I was about ten years old, walking up my street, when a younger neighbor named Tom came out from the wooded empty lots and said he’d found an enormous turtle. “Come see it,” he said, and of course, I followed.

Seeing a child’s eyes light up is a wonderful experience. When they finally understand something, grasp a concept, have an insight, or finally see what was hidden, they are a step closer to reaching the fullness of their life. For me, their most touching Ah Ha’s are those of the heart. 

After a lifetime of learning, you find yourself with a wealth of knowledge—perhaps even a wealth of wisdom. One of the natural fruits of living and learning is that we deepen and expand our worldview. Every new insight expands our comprehension of existence itself.

When I was nine years old, I met a set of my grandparents for the first time. It was a wondrous adventure sailing to England, my mother’s homeland, and meeting all the relatives I had only heard about. There would be hundreds of new things my brother and I would learn during the summer in and around Northumberland, with Mom and her family. 

As we live and learn, many of our most meaningful lessons are enlightening and heartwarming. They often turn into our most cherished memories. Perhaps your mother or father once pointed to a breathtaking sunset, and from that experience, you learned that the world turns. Maybe you watched birds build their nests and felt wonder stir within you. Or someone special may have taught you how to ride a bike or drive a car, and your world grew larger that day. Living and learning are not always about difficult experiences. It can include all the happy surprises and the Ah Ha’s of life. 

I learn something new every day. Many of those lessons are not pleasant, yet each one brings me into a deeper fullness of my humanity. We are all on a lifelong journey toward self-actualization, the unfolding of our true selves. But this “apex” of our identity is not a fixed peak. It continues to expand as we grow in consciousness, drawing us ever upward.

One of the first things we ever learn in life is trust. Our first course in trust might be called Nourishment 101, and we took it as infants. From our first breath, nourishment was essential, but we were helpless to provide it for ourselves. Our caretakers held our survival in their hands. We had to learn to trust them for food, warmth, love, and care. And food was the very first practical lesson. The feeding process itself became the laboratory for Trust 101.

We invite you to join us for this week’s series of Daily Reflections: “You Live and Learn.”

The old saying “You live and learn” has been around for centuries, appearing in English writings as far back as the 1500s. Its meaning is timeless: we gain wisdom and understanding through life’s experiences, especially the difficult or surprising ones. George Gascoigne wrote in 1576 in his play, “The Glass Government,” that life itself is a kind of school, and according to our teachers, our mistakes become lessons. 

A guided meditation for you:

During the first part of meditation, many of us experience constant mind chatter—continuous random or fixated thoughts about “what is next?”, “what if?” Business and personal matters fly in front of our eyes, This phenomenon is directly related to the ego’s desire to perpetuate the “story of me.”

Many people may think it “weird” to chant the word “Om” before entering a meditation. But the ancient Hindu and Buddhist practice of chanting this curious word has a method in its madness. According to spiritual teachers down through the ages, “Om” elicits the energy of the universe by vibrating our bodies with the basic vibration of all creation.

The human organism, like all of nature, seeks homeostatic balance. When one aspect is out of order, the other aspects prop it up until it can function normally again. This phenomenon occurs in all of nature. In his book, The Hidden Life of Trees, biological scientist Stephen Wohlleben points out that a stand of trees whose roots are inter-connected become an organism unto themselves. And when one of those trees is ill, the others send extra nutrients to the ailing tree until it recovers. The trees are individual parts of a common life, shared by each of them. All the parts work in concert to compensate for any lack or deficit in the community.

Gratefulness is one of the most cherished qualities of the soul. It arises from an awareness that we are blessed. Something has entered our lives that we could not have given ourselves. Gratitude awakens when we recognize that without that gift, we would be at a loss.

There are many levels of the meditative state just as there are many levels of dream states. The deeper we are into the rapid eye movement (REM) stage of sleep, the more vivid and intense are our dreams. Similarly, the deeper we go in meditation, the freer we become from the monkey mind, and the more satisfying is the meditation.

Once we close our eyes and follow our breath, we have virtually shut out the outer world. As we “go down into the deep of our own being,” we relinquish to the Higher Power. And because we have surrendered to the Divine, our meditative experience is like being on a guided tour.

A hypnotist takes us into a trance by inviting us to focus on one thing such as her voice or a pendulum she swings before our eyes. In a trance, the mind is “blank,” and therefore highly suggestible. In a trance state the ego is not engaged. Therefore, the mind is more likely to think or do as the hypnotist instructs. The person under hypnosis has a new reality.

I first became aware of my heartstrings when I saw the film Old Yeller. 

It was about a wonderful dog that grew in my heart as I watched the movie. The boy reminded me of myself and my dog, Sparkle. Oh, the hikes in the woods, the walks in the neighborhood and catching sand crabs on the beach! Travis was the boy in Old Yeller. He, too, considered his dog his friend and companion.

Just think about why a child or an animal pulls on our heartstrings: we all have an innocent and helpless part of ourselves and identify with that helpless child or animal on some deep level. It could be an insurmountable struggle that we must cope with or a deficiency for which we have spent years compensating. It could be a long-held resentment or rage. It could be a loss or rejection. It could be an inability to feel joy, but we do not know why. It could be that we never found the love we had hoped for.