01.11.12
Posted in Meditation, Philosophy at 18:46 by Administrator
I received an email from a dear friend a couple weeks ago containing a “Letter from Jesus” in response to the holiday season. I don’t know if my friend actually wrote that part or if someone else did, but I really liked the point of view because the letter focused on what it really means to have faith in a tradition and to demonstrate that faith with an open heart and an open mind. I’ve met people of different faiths who not only believe theirs is the only way to have faith and to believe in something greater than ourselves, but also believe it is okay to hate, be critical, and judge other people and traditions. The letter was so profound in its simplicity and openness to differences, I had to muse that Buddha would only reply, “Yes. What Jesus said.”
This brings to my mind the very best bumper sticker I’ve ever read: “Who Would Jesus Hate?” I wonder. Would he hate Obama? Would he hate those who occupy Wall Street? Or those who work in the Stock Exchange? Would he hate the government? Would he hate whole countries? People of different color? Would he hate Jews? Muslims? Buddhists? The B’Hai? The Indigenous? Christians? Catholics? Would he turn up his nose at the homeless? Immigrants? Migrant workers? Single mothers? Surely he would hate crack addicts? Alcoholics? People in prison? People on welfare? The people at your workplace? Maybe he would just hate your stupid boss. Or maybe that idiot who cut you off on the drive to work? He has to hate those who are trashing the planet. Or maybe he hates those who are trying to save the planet? After all, they are the reason I can no longer catch more than one salmon every season, right? Surely he hates the guy or girl who took your guy or girl? Perhaps he hates your neighbor? Your crappy car?
“Yeah, I know it’s written “Love thy neighbor as thyself,” but really, we’re talking about my neighbor. Puh-leeeeze.”
Oh sure, it’s easy to justify how we feel. Easy to be smug. Easy to say we’ve been wronged, we’ve been tricked, even easy to blame previous generations for not teaching us better. Easy to hide behind our beliefs or our faith and rationalize why we feel what we do and tell ourselves it’s okay to hate those who hate us. An eye for an eye, right?
But there’s something related that’s not so easy to do. It’s not easy to unconditionally love. It’s not easy to have an open heart. It’s not easy to change the way we believe to bring ourselves to a place where we can see clearly that what we do to others, what we say about others, and what we believe about others we also do, say, and believe about ourselves. You see, no matter how horrible we are, even the very worst among us is part of a mysterious, divine creation. I beieve we are here for a very fundamental reason: to evolve and grow, and to help others evolve and grow. When one of us takes a step forward and sheds an old belief or prejudice, it benefits the whole of Creation. Likewise, when one of us takes a step toward prejudice or hatred, it harms the whole of Creation.
Loving our neighbor as we love ourself has a very deep spiritual and holistic meaning. As we do to others, we do to ourselves. As we hate, we destroy ourselves. As we love, we create ourselves. As we judge, we find ourselves guilty. As we forgive, we find ourselves exonerated.
Mother Teresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
Thomas Merton said, “We are not here for ourselves.”
I had breakfast with a good friend yesterday, and we talked briefly about the purpose of human life – why we are here and what we are to do. I can think of no better answer than what these two sages have given us. We are here to bring our gifts into the world, to give and receive love, and to learn how to acknowledge that no one of us is greater than any other – that we are each an apple in God’s eye. That we are perfectly and divinely created, and that it is a simple matter to adjust our viewpoint to THAT which is in us, THAT which connects us all, making us brothers and sisters of the Cosmos. As within, so without. As above, so below. If I and my Father are one, then are not ALL of us one with the Father? I believe so.
With this belief comes an awareness that each person is on a path using their own Sacred Point of View. What is true for one of us is not true for all of us – and that has to be okay. Ours is not to judge or question what another does – only to assimilate what has happened in a way that acknoweldges we cannot always understand why things happen as they do, and that there may well be many things about the lives of others that we do not know and cannot understand. This does not make others wrong nor us right. It is a simple way to recognize others’ points of view and aspects that differ from us. It is a simple truth that creates so much freedom.
I believe nothing is outside the Mind of the Creator, and we are each a piece of that. Bits of stardust from the same source. Bits of God-Dust. I read once that perhaps it is not our destiny to worship God, but to create God. I like to think of us that way: Creating God. Can you imagine how it might be on this planet if we remain consciously aware of how our actions create?!? And that what we do creates God? Wow. Something to think about. How do I want to create more of God?
As I contemplate the coming year, I look forward to creating more God. I welcome Life to happen in whatever way it will. I pray for wisdom and courage for our world leaders. I pray for our evolution and enlightenment as a species. And I look forward to each rising of the Sun as a new opportunity, each setting of the Sun as a death to the old ways of the day, each night as an opportunity to go within and strengthen our connection to eternal knowledge and wisdom. To Dance. To Sing. To Create.
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11.20.11
Posted in Holistics, Meditation, Philosophy at 15:32 by Administrator
I often hear others say things that indicate their life would be so much better if factors outside of themselves changed. If only a girlfriend or boyfriend would start or stop some behavior. If only a job, boss, or coworker could just, would just, or should just be some other way. If only parents, siblings, children, friends could see, feel, or say something they are not. If only so-and-so hadn’t done such-and-such. If only someone we love hadn’t died. If only we had stayed married or gotten divorced. If only the doctor had listened. If only it hadn’t rained today. If only…then all would be well.
The idea that any other person or condition can be a key to our happiness, safety, health, or well-being suggests all outside of us should align to our ideal. Pretty preposterous, really. That it shouldn’t rain because I want the sun that day? That a doctor is to blame for my health? That a loved one should not have died when they did? That my boyfriend will make me happy if only he would change to be the way I want him? That I can’t be happy unless I have the perfect car, shoes, or latest cool gadget on the market? It’s like saying “If only people, things, and circumstances weren’t like themselves, then I could be more like me.” It does sound pretty ridiculous, doesn’t it?
There are several ways to change perspective when we find ourselves caught up in the if only mindset. Working to own our stuff isn’t easy, but it is do-able and generally leads to transformational growth and a greater sense of well-being. Breaking if only thinking takes practice. Here are three methods I use to help myself stay in a better frame of reference:
One effective way is using the word I instead of you. We break the connection between ourselves and what we say by using you instead of I. Here’s what I mean by that: You know how you feel on those days when you just don’t want to get out of bed? There. I did it right there. Did you catch it? Often we communicate in this way. Subconsciously, I think it says that I am not associated with or willing to own how I feel on those days when I don’t want to get out of bed. It’s a very subtle thing, but be listening for it. When people talk this way to me, I stop them and say, “No, I don’t have that feeling, but how do YOU feel?” I’ve tried to tune my ear over the years to hear when you falls out of my mouth when I should be saying I. I still work hard to use language that really says I own my own thoughts and feelings.
The same is true for phrases like that makes me angry, she hurt my feelings, and so forth. Just remember to put “I” first: I am angry or I feel hurt goes a long way to shifting toward ownership and away from blame, and may even help the conversation along when you feel like confonting the situation. I feel angry when you do XYZ, because…rather than You make me angry…will go a long way to keep things on an even keel and get yourself heard.
Another way to shift away from if only is replace the word can’t with the word won’t. This subtlety invites courage and enables one to take a more positive stance. Hear and feel the difference in these two statements:
“I can’t go to the dance if so-and-so is going to be there.”
“I won’t go to the dance if so-and-so is going to be there”
Both statements are very clear about a problem with so-and-so. You see, it’s fine to have the problem, but it’s not fine to give over your personal power. The first statement very clearly gives so-and-so the power, but the second shows who owns the decision. I think of it this way: words have weight and sound has energy. Every cell in my body will hear I can’t and make a subtle adjustment to that. The more I say can’t the more it becomes true for my body and mind. This language connotes being a victim, being incapable, and having no power. That’s not the kind of energy I want to embody and its not the story I want to tell about myself. Saying I won’t or I will rather than I can’t or I can renews personal resolve and helps make a subtle shift away from being incapable to standing in our personal power.
Finally, any language referring to yourself or others in a negative or harmful way demands consideration. Whether you say it out loud or just think these things, your body will embody meaning and intention. Calling yourself (or others) stupid, silly, inept, unworthy, incapable, messy, obnoxious, or in any way choosing language indicating not enough in some way can have quite harmful effects on your health and ability to relate to others. When you speak in these or other ways, stop in that moment. Where did you first hear it? When did you learn it? In what way have you made it your own? Then consider ways in which you have clearly demonstrated the opposite or ways in which you can learn a new habit. As an example:
I’m so clumsy and stupid! when I spill something. Stop. I first heard this when I was five and dropped a gallon of milk all over the floor. I literally learned to cry over spilled milk. New pattern: No crying over spilled milk.
What we say of others lives somewhere in us, else we wouldn’t know what to call it. Willingness to dumpster-dive into beliefs about clumsiness and stupidity helped me identify an even deeper pattern. When I spill now, I’m able to just clean up the mess and go on without hurtful thinking, Sometimes I even smile and mentally hug those poor little kids: me, who was only trying to help at the dinner table, and my dad, who learned at some time in his life to be hurt by stupid and clumsy, too. And I learned a LOT about how to heal and let go of other spilled milk.
Words and language have meaning, history, and depth. There’s so much behind the words we choose (and don’t choose) – waking up to that and becoming more aware of what we say and how we say it is essential to gaining more subtle energetic freedom. It’s important to tune into our choice of language to see how we may be leaking our energy and personal power. Using voice and specific language can be difficult when we’ve learned not to speak up, or we’ve developed habits or patterns of speaking that give away our power, ownership, or connection to how we really feel and think.
I invite you to consider other ways you use language to give away your power and energy or attempt to exert your power over others. Ask significants in your life to help when you’ve identified words you want to stop using. Have fun with inventing new ways of speaking and thinking. Make ceremony or have a funeral for the old words and patterns you are discarding. Leave a note to yourself on the bathroom mirror. Do whatever it takes to become aware of and then eliminate ways you engage if only in your life. Until next time.
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11.04.11
Posted in Dying, Meditation, Philosophy at 00:47 by Administrator
It’s been one of those weeks. I just feel out of sorts. Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. He died in 2001. Hard to believe it has been ten years already. That puts me…let’s see…about ten years closer to my own death. It isn’t easy to think of my life that way, but it’s necessary. It helps me keep my perspective. Like when his Holiness, The Dalai Lama, jokes about how he is getting older and getting ready to leave. He makes it seem so easy to feel the temporary reality of my time in a meat suit.
In 1799, a fellow by the name of Samuel Stanhope Smith wrote a sermon titled Discourse XIV. On Death. The Uncertainty of that Interesting Event and the Proper Improvement of It. I love the title and find his thoughts compelling. He said that death “should occupy the mind with the most interesting reflections.” He went on to say there was no topic more important, nor one that we try so hard to avoid.
One of my favorite books about dying is Talking About Death Won’t Kill You by Virginia Morris. I purchased it after my sister died because I couldn’t resist the title. I sometimes wonder if I had found and read it long before, I might have been better able to help my dad talk about things. But we did have a few moments to say some pretty important things to each other. He let me ask probing questions and he gave me honest raw answers. It surprised me. And I knew him better for it. He had a hard time with his dying in some ways. I had a hard time with his dying, too. Once in a while I still do, even after all this time. That is just the nature of it when someone dies. The living are left with unfinished business. Morris’s book is an opportunity to learn how to minimize that. But not if one reads it after.
Please read it now. It ought to provoke the most interesting reflections.
Dad, I still miss you. Sometimes I can hear your laughter. The other day, I heard your voice in my brother’s mouth. I see your body language in my mirror. Every now and again I hear myself say something you frequently did and I have to shake my head in wonder over the amazing things that came along with your DNA. It really bowls me over when I hear my son say something you used to say, something I never said and I know he never heard you say. It feels like an echo of you. And I get choked up, feeling all weepy when that happens. When I remember funny things you said or did, I smile. Actually, sometimes I grin like an idiot.
I miss you often, pop. I just wanted you to know.
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Posted in Dying, Meditation, Philosophy at 00:04 by Administrator
The most profound helping experience I’ve ever had is mid-wifing my sister’s illness and death. What I gained from the experience is an entirely different perspective on my own life. As I sat watching her die a little more every day, holding her close, loving every ounce of her so much, remembering with her and not wanting to let her go, another part of me began to realize that is precisely what I was being asked to do. I learned that life won’t always deal the cards I want to hold. I learned that wishing things weren’t so is a lot like telling the Universe, “No, I don’t want to participate in life.” Through my sister’s death, I learned how to quietly and courageously say, “Yes,” to Life and all if offers.
I felt like I was dying as I watched her die. She expressed such sadness over her failing body; her depth of regret over life’s circumstances was at times more than I could bear to hear, her agony so much I thought I would break from hearing it. Yet from a reserve of my own, I somehow knew she needed to say so much—to say it out loud in safety, in an unconditional space free of judgment or prejudice. I learned so much about her in those three short weeks—I had known her for forty-nine years, yet I had never known the sacred privilege of sharing the deepest, most private parts of her inner world. I had not known of her capacity for surrender, grace, and courage—but I learned of it in the most profound ways. As she lay dying, disclosing her soul in sisterly trust, whispering her greatest pain and sorrow into a still space I had somehow managed to hold on her behalf, I learned more about unconditional love and tolerance than I thought possible. I learned to set aside my grief to make room for hers.
I learned to be open to anything that may arise, to not anticipate what might be needed. I found if I had a plan for the day it was quickly derailed by the unanticipated, so I had to shift gears and simply be open for whatever was going to be needed at that moment. I realized how liberating that is, to just be open without expectation. Mostly I learned that in the face of human suffering, there is no end to the possibilities when I am able to surrender to what is and let go of what I wish was. I learned that holding someone as they die is perhaps the most profound, sacred, and exquisitely painful thing I have known or experienced. Being her sister was, for me, the ninth wonder of the world, and I miss her so. As hard as it was for me to lose her sooner than either of us ever expected, I am so grateful to have been her gate-keeper. She helped me by graciously allowing me to participate in her dying. I know it helped me to help her.
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10.26.11
Posted in Holistics, Meditation, Philosophy at 18:07 by Administrator
If I knew the answer to this question I could write and publish A Failsafe Recipe for Change, hit the best-seller list and make a few million, at the very least bringing about a change in my economic status. I can only contemplate my own experience of change with any degree of certainty, so best I share how I change. I may never identify the actual internal mechanism—that particular instance of awakening which activates my internal change alarm—but I am able to say with absolute conviction that change only comes about in my life when it becomes far too difficult for me not to change. The tension between where I want to be and where I am eventually becomes unbearable enough to prompt some action. I suppose stated this way the recipe is pretty clear (come to think of it, I may write that book after all.):
The Essential Kitchen: A Failsafe Recipe for Change
Combine the following ingredients under any circumstances:
1 State of Having/Doing/Being that is unsatisfactory
1 State of Having/Doing/Being thought to be more satisfying
1 Measure of unbearable tension between the two
Mull over until tension stretches, evaluating against personal values, beliefs, knowledge, wisdom, and self-concept. Stew on low heat to envision outcome. Toss with trusted others to taste. Remove to back-burner, depending on circumstances, to gain more insight and discern potential fall-out/consequences. Stir occasionally to prevent stagnation. Heat to boiling and make the leap, or remove from heat and recombine until tension is again unbearable. Repeat as often as necessary to continue evolution.
I would be unwise to suggest this recipe only results in beneficial changes – after all, it is possible to change for the worse, rather than the better. I have certainly veered off course enough times, leaving the kitchen an utter mess with Holy-Crap or You’ve GOT to be Kidding Me dripping from the ceiling. On those battle-scarred occasions I landed squarely on my backside, back in the kitchen before boiling pot with recipe in hand, tension nearing the breaking point, older (definitely), wiser (not always), working feverishly to sift an ounce of Try-Again with a pound of What-the-HELL-Was-I-Thinking!?! Sometimes my efforts do no better than a fallen cake or burnt toast; other times I am able to bring about savory, mouth-watering change, thereby dramatically improving my state of having/doing/being. But this is usually only after reaching for a box of Eyes-Wide-Open and a bottomless bag of Don’t-Give-Up-the-Ship, both of which I keep strategically located next to my reserve supplies of Do-or-Die, Hard-Won-Experience, and Never-Say-Never.
Once in a very great while a change implemented after several failed attempts is literally so profound I am able to top it off with a huge dollop of Heartfelt-Gratitude and one really healthy scoop of Hallelujah. It has taken me many years to discover the perfect ingredients for changes of the monumental variety. Those are the kinds of changes that are not even conceivable unless I remember to throw in a heaping helping of Sweet-Surrender gently blended with equal parts of Precious-Time and Steady-as-She-Goes. They are the most difficult to create, but the few I have managed from my Essential Kitchen have been, by far, the most delightful of all my recipes.
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10.11.11
Posted in Holistics, Meditation at 09:52 by Administrator
I once read that people only die if you forget them. I feel now as I did then: It must be true. Others live on in us and through us. People look at me and remember my parents, my uncle, my sister; I love that about our features – that we share certain traits and that some are so strong they mark a family’s history. Years ago as I was working on a family genealogy project, I arranged to meet a distant relative of my mom’s at a cafe. They were related through a family tie seven generations prior. But when he walked through the door, I knew beyond doubt that he and my mother were related. I had grown up with certain of his facial features embodied in my mother’s face. It was an amazing experience to see genetics in action; seven generations is a long time, and yet he was regonizable to me as my mother’s kin.
I wondered if my kin, seven generations from now, would cross paths and remember. In Africa, there is a group of indigenous people who greet one another by saying, “It’s good to look into your eyes.” A similar greeting was modeled in the movie Avatar: “I see you.” These greetings connote more than “Hey, nice to see you, how are you doing?” There is something deeper happening when we look into another’s eyes and really see; we look past our projections, past our assumptions, and past our beliefs, diving headlong into the truth of the other: we remember them. It is as though when we stand before them, looking into their eyes, we see behind them their parents, and their parents, and their parents, and so on, to the beginning of time, and we can literally see how we are related. Flesh, bone, and blood fall away giving rise to something ageless, timeless…something forgotten until we make an effort to remember it: our eternal connection to one another through the Divine conduit that gives life to all things.
In shamanic practices, this is called re-membering. In the modern world, we know the word simply as remembering, but we have oddly enough forgotten what it really means. To re-member means to take apart and put back together, to reconstruct one’s self without all the baggage, to recreate our story. It has little to do with being sure to pick up our dry-cleaning, or stopping on the way home for a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. It means to see and recall who we really are and tune into the sacred knowledge that we have all come from the same place. Regardless of your tradition of faith, this idea is at the core of all sacred teachings. We are not separate from one another and we are not separate from the Divine. We have just forgotten.
I was able to refresh my re-membering this past weekend as I rode in the Dempsey Challenge, an event sponsored by the Patrick Dempsey Center for Cancer Hope and Healing. I rode with my friend, Diane, who established our team three years ago. She lost her husband some years earlier to cancer. I lost my uncle, then my dad, and then my little sister. This year’s ride was absolutely beautiful, the sky that color of impossible blue that only happens on fall days as the leaves are turning. As we rounded the last mile, we slowed to look at the many memorials people had placed in honor of their loved ones, those who have fallen to and those who have survived cancer. As I saw the beautiful signs and looked into the eyes of so many photographed faces, I felt it: That which connects us. I wondered in awe at the power of a single cause to bring so many people together to do so much in just one weekend, and I prayed then that we all come together as a species, to look into one another’s eyes and re-member who we really are. To save ourselves. To save our planet for the next seven generations. And the seven after that. And after that. If we did collectively begin to focus together, my guess is we could solve world hunger, discover low-cost and environmentally no-impact alternatives to fossil fuels, and eliminate discrimination, disease, war, and hate in a relatively short period of time…just to name a few global problems that really need our attention. Can you imagine the power of almost seven billion people focused on solutions?
If you can’t, can you imagine it is possible? And if you can’t, can you imgine that it might be possible that it is possble (and here I give credit to one of my teachers, Anam Thubten, who often asks about the possibility of possibility).
It’s time to wake up. Stop hitting the snooze. Re-Member.
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10.06.11
Posted in Dying at 00:16 by Administrator
Uncanny that my last post published shortly before the announcement of Steve Job’s death at the very young age of 56 years. But WOW what a life. What a contribution. What a genius. Rest in peace, Mr. Jobs. You’ve earned it. And thanks a thousand times over for the iPod.
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10.05.11
Posted in Dying, Meditation at 18:19 by Administrator
I wonder if you would take a few minutes to just stop. Whatever it is you are doing – just stop it. Breathe. Clear your mind. No, wait – don’t go yet. I know you’re busy. That’s kind of my point. Maybe you’re too busy? If you can’t stop to just enjoy a breath with a clear mind, you could be moving through your life way too fast.
I realize nobody wants to think about their own death. Too morbid. Too depressing. Too…something. But think of it this way: you die every night. Your life closes the day to darkness, you go to sleep, and you probably don’t give a second thought to the potential for not waking the next morning. You just unconsciously set your alarm and expect you are going to wake up…for work, for play, for school, for church, for your next appointment…for whatever.
Did you ever stop to think, “What if I don’t?” I’ll bet not. But I’m going to ask you to do just that in this brief moment that I have your attention. “What if you don’t wake up?”
Notice what is happening in your body as you contemplate this. Is your heart rate rising? Are you thinking about all the things you haven’t done yet? The people you wish you hadn’t said something to? The people you wish you had? The loved ones you’ll never see again? Wishing you lived your life a different way? Had another chance?
Don’t want to die? I promise, you WILL die some day. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe fifty years from now. My point is that you just might get more out of your life by contemplating your inevitable death and really paying attention to your own responses.
You have a perfect opportunity to take a personal inventory right now. To actively consider what you are doing, how you are living, and how you are experiencing your life circumstances, the people you care about, and the way you hope to be in this world.
Don’t save it for later. You may not get later.
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