There are many risks that I have a hard time taking. They're mostly internal and involve making myself visible in some way - doing my work and sending it out in the world, going to a big party alone. There are others but they all raise up in me a resistance because I don't want to be evaluated - because I automatically assume I will be found wanting.
I've waged many battles with my resistance and the default certainty of rejection. I've learned all about them, their psychogenesis, their repercussions. I know what resistance feels like in my body and I know to shake hands with the negative voices in my head and then act despite them.
But it's one of the mysteries of my life that I can know the symptoms and what I should do to overcome them, and still not be able to do it. You don't want to go out? Well, that's the resistance - just work past it. Those voices in your head? You know they're ephemeral, thoughts just passing through, with no importance other than what you give them. Act despite them! Other people have the same fears and negativity but they act anyway. Why not you? Get a grip!
My resistance to change and taking a risk by walking fully into the world isn't a solid wall stopping me. It's amorphous, viscous, a thick swamp to slog my way though. Many times I make it, but sometimes I don't and, when I don't, I can feel the depression that is more powerful than my desire to act. And I can feel the depression deepening because one more time I have failed myself.
There is hope. I can't think my way past my resistance but I can acknowledge that I'm powerless over it. I can stop fighting to figure things out. I can let myself see the truth, that resistance and negativity have no solid reality. They are only products of my insecure ego. I can focus on the moment and reach for that field beyond my ego where stillness silences my mind. Above all, I can let compassion come flooding in, hold myself gently, and feel love for all my struggles, for my very human desire to be better, to do better, to free myself from all the obstacles I put in my own way. And I can fully embrace the fact that I will have to make this struggle again and again. Each time I do, I will be a little stronger, more able to push past the things that block me.
I choose to believe that is the truth for me. I choose to believe my faith in that truth will make it so.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
HUMILITY
I'm thinking of how often in the past I've been wrong about things. I've made assumptions about people - that one is uninteresting, that one is wearing the wrong shoes, that one will never see the solution right in front of his face. I've made snap judgments, misunderstood intentions, proudly spouted what I see now was absolute nonsense.
Sometimes I like to remember the times I was wrong because they show me how far I've come. I hear something I said twenty years ago and instead of cringing with embarrassment I want to throw my arms around that poor misguided girl. You'll see, I want to say, you'll see how much you're going to change.
Remembering is humbling and I like the feeling of humility, which is a far cry from humiliation. Humility opens me up and helps me feel right-sized. It gives me the sense that all of us are fallible, sometimes living in illusion, sometimes deluded by self-interest or insecurity. Humility tells me that I'm no different than anyone else and sometimes that thought floods me with compassion, with love for us all.
Sometimes I like to remember the times I was wrong because they show me how far I've come. I hear something I said twenty years ago and instead of cringing with embarrassment I want to throw my arms around that poor misguided girl. You'll see, I want to say, you'll see how much you're going to change.
Remembering is humbling and I like the feeling of humility, which is a far cry from humiliation. Humility opens me up and helps me feel right-sized. It gives me the sense that all of us are fallible, sometimes living in illusion, sometimes deluded by self-interest or insecurity. Humility tells me that I'm no different than anyone else and sometimes that thought floods me with compassion, with love for us all.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
PURPOSE
If you know the why, you can live any how...
Years ago, lying in bed one night waiting to fall asleep, it came to me that I had made a crucial turning in my life, the most crucial one: I had had a spiritual awakening. I had seen there was a power greater than myself in the world, a power greater than my own self-will and all the views and opinions of my own judgmental ego. I could have no idea what life had in store for me, but I knew that whatever it was, I would experience it and come to understand it in the context of my deepening spiritual connection. I realized I had developed faith, that as long as I saw my life as grist for the mill of spiritual expansion, I would be all right no matter what.
My faith in what I understood that night has only deepened over the years. When I become willing to let go of all the noise in my head, the doubts and fears and resentments, the fantasies and expectations, when holding on becomes more painful than taking the risk of letting go, I find myself in the calm center of possibilities. I become able to ask, what is the purpose of my experience, what does it have to teach me? I no longer want to run from discomfort, pain, and suffering., but rather to embrace them, bring them inside so I can digest them and find whatever bits of nourishment they have to offer. I want to learn from them and in that learning feel myself expand.
Years ago, lying in bed one night waiting to fall asleep, it came to me that I had made a crucial turning in my life, the most crucial one: I had had a spiritual awakening. I had seen there was a power greater than myself in the world, a power greater than my own self-will and all the views and opinions of my own judgmental ego. I could have no idea what life had in store for me, but I knew that whatever it was, I would experience it and come to understand it in the context of my deepening spiritual connection. I realized I had developed faith, that as long as I saw my life as grist for the mill of spiritual expansion, I would be all right no matter what.
My faith in what I understood that night has only deepened over the years. When I become willing to let go of all the noise in my head, the doubts and fears and resentments, the fantasies and expectations, when holding on becomes more painful than taking the risk of letting go, I find myself in the calm center of possibilities. I become able to ask, what is the purpose of my experience, what does it have to teach me? I no longer want to run from discomfort, pain, and suffering., but rather to embrace them, bring them inside so I can digest them and find whatever bits of nourishment they have to offer. I want to learn from them and in that learning feel myself expand.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
NIETZSCHE
He who has a why to live can bear
almost any how -- Nietzsche
There it is - find a purpose to your suffering and you can bear your pain.
almost any how -- Nietzsche
There it is - find a purpose to your suffering and you can bear your pain.
Monday, January 25, 2016
GOOD ENOUGH
I was once talking to someone who said she was too much of a perfectionist. Well, I thought, I'll never have that problem - I mess up whatever I try to do, don't follow through, always disappoint myself - I don't try to do something perfectly because I know I never will.
I knew there was a voice, a presence in my head that I came to think of as the Nazi with a whip. This voice said nothing I did was ever good enough. You're not good enough, the voice said again and again, like a diabolical mantra. It was a long time before I realized that was the voice of perfectionism, the demand I put on myself to meet some impossible standard, impossible so I was destined always to fail. Of course, there actually were things I messed up or did halfway but that wasn't the point. No matter how well I did, it would never be enough.
The English pediatrician and psychoanalyst, D.W. Winnicott, is known for his phrase, "the good enough mother." A mother doesn't have to be perfect to give her child a true self, one that is alive, spontaneous and unafraid. She just has to pay enough attention, be loving and encouraging enough and all the other things that help develop self-love in her child. She just has to be good enough. I've made that a new and productive mantra - I just have to be good enough. That doesn't mean that I don't want to excel, to succeed, even to stand out. It simply takes off the pressure for perfection, and that frees up more energy to actually make my best effort.
And here's something else: as my demand that I be perfect slowly lessened its grip on me, my demand that you be perfect also fell away. As I developed compassion for my beleaguered self, I became more able to look out at the world, to see the struggles everyone else was dealing with. And in seeing it, I began to develop compassion for you and you and you...
I knew there was a voice, a presence in my head that I came to think of as the Nazi with a whip. This voice said nothing I did was ever good enough. You're not good enough, the voice said again and again, like a diabolical mantra. It was a long time before I realized that was the voice of perfectionism, the demand I put on myself to meet some impossible standard, impossible so I was destined always to fail. Of course, there actually were things I messed up or did halfway but that wasn't the point. No matter how well I did, it would never be enough.
The English pediatrician and psychoanalyst, D.W. Winnicott, is known for his phrase, "the good enough mother." A mother doesn't have to be perfect to give her child a true self, one that is alive, spontaneous and unafraid. She just has to pay enough attention, be loving and encouraging enough and all the other things that help develop self-love in her child. She just has to be good enough. I've made that a new and productive mantra - I just have to be good enough. That doesn't mean that I don't want to excel, to succeed, even to stand out. It simply takes off the pressure for perfection, and that frees up more energy to actually make my best effort.
And here's something else: as my demand that I be perfect slowly lessened its grip on me, my demand that you be perfect also fell away. As I developed compassion for my beleaguered self, I became more able to look out at the world, to see the struggles everyone else was dealing with. And in seeing it, I began to develop compassion for you and you and you...
ANONYMITY
There are different kinds of anonymity. There's the anonymity a celebrity uses to protect privacy or a web trawler uses because be doesn't want opinions traced back to him or a 12 step group member uses because recovery is private, both for the member and the 12 step program's public face.
There's another kind of anonymity that is an aspect of selflessness. The actions in this anonymity don't need recognition for generosity or good deeds or kindness. In fact, the person acting with the desire for this kind of anonymity draws satisfaction not only from the act itself but also from the actual rejection of recognition. To go unseen and unacknowledged when giving, to seek out that kind of anonymity, can contain the delight of keeping a grand secret. But there's something much deeper, a confidence in self, in your own being. You don't need outside approval; there is no insecurity that needs another's applause.
It's another of the paradoxes that confidence should be a part of selflessness. It seems that confidence, security in your being, is a prerequisite for taking,actions performed in anonymity.
There's another kind of anonymity that is an aspect of selflessness. The actions in this anonymity don't need recognition for generosity or good deeds or kindness. In fact, the person acting with the desire for this kind of anonymity draws satisfaction not only from the act itself but also from the actual rejection of recognition. To go unseen and unacknowledged when giving, to seek out that kind of anonymity, can contain the delight of keeping a grand secret. But there's something much deeper, a confidence in self, in your own being. You don't need outside approval; there is no insecurity that needs another's applause.
It's another of the paradoxes that confidence should be a part of selflessness. It seems that confidence, security in your being, is a prerequisite for taking,actions performed in anonymity.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
CHATTER
Much of the time, the chatter in my head is pointless. I don't mean those times when I'm thinking about ideas or focused on what I'm doing or talking to friends. I mean those times when all the chatter comes out of either vanity or insecurity, when I'm judging other people or rehearsing the slights and resentments I've accumulated during the day or comparing myself to other people or fantasizing an impossible future.
Sometimes I'm so caught up in the chatter it seems all of reality. But then It,s as if something awakens me, l take a step back, realize how much the chatter has taken over and in that realization become able to stop it. I close my eyes and wait for the silence, letting go, coming into the moment, surrendering the chattering mind. It's peaceful in the silence, I become aware of my breathing, and with each breath I feel myself expand.
Sometimes I'm so caught up in the chatter it seems all of reality. But then It,s as if something awakens me, l take a step back, realize how much the chatter has taken over and in that realization become able to stop it. I close my eyes and wait for the silence, letting go, coming into the moment, surrendering the chattering mind. It's peaceful in the silence, I become aware of my breathing, and with each breath I feel myself expand.
Friday, January 22, 2016
IRRITATION
I got irritated today. When I got back to my hotel room, the key card didn't work. It meant I had to go back to the front desk. I had to drive there because there are many buildings in this hotel and it was too long a walk. The clerk gave me a new key and you may be able to guess what happened next. This key didn't work either. This time I tried calling the desk but for some reason I couldn't get through. So it was back into the car to the front desk. I was by now very irritated. The clerk gave me another key, I said I want someone to go with me because I'm not coming back again. He said he was calling the engineer since something was obviously wrong with the lock. When, I wanted to know in an irritated voice. As soon as he can walk over from wherever he is on the property. I drove back to my building, took the elevator up and went to my door. I looked at the time and said to myself, if he isn't here in twenty minutes, I'll -- what? My things were in the room so I couldn't storm off. Then, just as I looked up from the time, there was the engineer. The problem was the lock but his master key worked. I thanked him for coming so quickly, went inside and plopped on the bed.
I thought about irritation, mine in this particular case. I was tired but my real question was why did I want the clerk to know I was irritated? What was the point? He didn't do something to the lock and I could see the edge in my voice made him nervous. My ego wanted to show the irritation, to say I'm important! Drop everything right now and fix the lock! That would be counterproductive to say the least; I learned a long time ago that showing anger or irritation only makes A bad situation worse.
As I relaxed it came to me that the opposite of irritation and anger is humility. The way out for me from the driving back and forth and the frustration of the key cards not working was to acknowledge that these things happen, they happen to everyone and I'm not exempt. Daily life is full of obstacles and problems - if I don't take them personally I'll be helping them get resolved.
Three cheers for humility, for recognizing that I'm not the center of the universe!
I thought about irritation, mine in this particular case. I was tired but my real question was why did I want the clerk to know I was irritated? What was the point? He didn't do something to the lock and I could see the edge in my voice made him nervous. My ego wanted to show the irritation, to say I'm important! Drop everything right now and fix the lock! That would be counterproductive to say the least; I learned a long time ago that showing anger or irritation only makes A bad situation worse.
As I relaxed it came to me that the opposite of irritation and anger is humility. The way out for me from the driving back and forth and the frustration of the key cards not working was to acknowledge that these things happen, they happen to everyone and I'm not exempt. Daily life is full of obstacles and problems - if I don't take them personally I'll be helping them get resolved.
Three cheers for humility, for recognizing that I'm not the center of the universe!
Thursday, January 21, 2016
GRACKLES
Years ago, every once in a while I would stumble into a feeling I called "on the verge." It usually happened when I saw a beautiful sunset or sat in the silence of the redwood trees, or let myself connect with the beauty of Nature. It had happened once when I had spent a few days at Zion National Park. I'd been disappointed at how crowded the park was and on the morning I was driving out, I happened to be stopped by a road crew so that traffic heading in my direction could pass. I happened to be the first car in the line and the flagman, who happened to be a woman, was standing very near my window. As we waited, I asked her if there were back roads in the park where tourists didn't go. She said she and her husband went camping off a road up ahead, she told me where and when it was my turn, I thanked her and drove on.
I found the turnoff easily. The moment I turned right, the car and I started to climb. Parts of Zion reach over 8500 feet elevation. I don't how how high I was but I was definitely going higher. The sky was bright blue, the sunlight sharp, the aspens had already turned and were very bright yellow. I was amazed when the trees gave way to an alpine meadow and there was a farm just beyond it. One farm, all the way up here.
I found the turnoff easily. The moment I turned right, the car and I started to climb. Parts of Zion reach over 8500 feet elevation. I don't how how high I was but I was definitely going higher. The sky was bright blue, the sunlight sharp, the aspens had already turned and were very bright yellow. I was amazed when the trees gave way to an alpine meadow and there was a farm just beyond it. One farm, all the way up here.
Eventually the pavement ran out and I continued on a dirt road, still going up. The air was so clear and all the colors, the hundred different shades of green, the glinting granite of rocks in the distance, the brown dirt -- everything was clean and hard edged, beautiful. I didn't see another car or person. It was just what I wanted.
Then the dirt road petered out, ended. I got out of the car and started walking straight ahead, through some bushes and heavy growth. I don't know what instinct told me to walk in that direction, but suddenly the undergrowth ended and I found myself on the top of a cliff with a very deep steep sided canyon below. It was breathtaking. There were miles of mountains falling away whichever way I looked, the wind was the only sound except for the cries of three or four huge blackbirds flying circles in the canyon. ( I looked them up in my bird book when I got home and I think they were grackles.) I felt myself flying on the backs of those birds, circling lazily on currents of air. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. That all that wildness and grandeur existed whether I or anyone was here to see it, was somehow comforting. When I opened my eyes, I felt again that sense if being on the verge. On the verge of what? I couldn't say but it was a big feeling, the biggest I'd felt, set off by the beauty of the world around me.
I've thought of that feeling many times over the years. I understand it now. It was the yearning deep inside me to connect with the world, to be right-sized in it, to give myself over to the great mystery at the center of the world. I saw myself laughing, wanting to pull long beautiful ribbons out of my chest and throw them in the air so the sun could shine on them. Joy. I didn't know it then but I was on the verge of joy. Years would go by before I was no longer on the verge, but opened fully, ready to walk through the door into Spirit.
Wednesday, January 20, 2016
COMPASSION
I was daydreaming this afternoon, not really thinking about anything. Slowly things intensified - the room around me, my sense of being - and then I was simply flooded with love for the world. Everything was rich, fluid, and I was connected to everything, all that is, but something more, connected to a world of endless possibility. My body and my spirit reached out to embrace it; I felt myself open to whatever the mystery is at the heart of the world. No fear. No concepts and ideas. Only the expanding universe of love.
When the feeling faded, I was left thinking about compassion, and how when we feel it we are opening up our love for the world. To feel the pain of another's struggles, to reach out with kindness, to want to help, to say, I hear you - there's selflessness in that.The focus shifts outward, we are giving out the best part of ourselves and that's when love can come flooding in.
I know I can't will myself into moments like I had this afternoon. What I can do is prepare the way so that those gorgeous feelings can come again. I can set an intention, to be alert to others, to listen and empathize, to acknowledge the kindness of others, to notice the beauty in the world around me. It's one of great paradoxes of the spirit that turning attention outward is so often the way to feel in yourself that brimming over of love.
When the feeling faded, I was left thinking about compassion, and how when we feel it we are opening up our love for the world. To feel the pain of another's struggles, to reach out with kindness, to want to help, to say, I hear you - there's selflessness in that.The focus shifts outward, we are giving out the best part of ourselves and that's when love can come flooding in.
I know I can't will myself into moments like I had this afternoon. What I can do is prepare the way so that those gorgeous feelings can come again. I can set an intention, to be alert to others, to listen and empathize, to acknowledge the kindness of others, to notice the beauty in the world around me. It's one of great paradoxes of the spirit that turning attention outward is so often the way to feel in yourself that brimming over of love.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
THE VITAL CENTER
In his essay, "What Makes A Life Significant," William James begins with a wonderful example of differing perspectives. Jack falls madly in love with Jill and she becomes extraordinary to him. He grasps her "essence," sees and understands all her thoughts and feelings, marvels endlessly at the marvel she is. But we can't imagine what he sees in her; to our minds, she's dull, ordinary, hardly worth thinking about. Yet Jill, knowing how Jack feels about her, blossoms not only in his eyes but in her own. She responds by seeing how extraordinary Jack is. They take each other completely.
Who is right here? Is Jack a "maniac" filled with delusion that he sees Jill in that way? Or is it we "dull clods" who are missing the true essence of both of them? In fact, there is no right or wrong. What matters is what happens to Jack and Jill as they perceive all the little joys and disappointments, the thoughts and feelings each of them has - everything that is a hallmark of each other's humanity. Those intense, reciprocal perceptions add up to the significance they feel in themselves and in each other.
The rest of the essay is filled with examples of how easy it is to miss the vital center, the deep and complex humanity at the heart of us all. I often think of this as I move through the day - passing so many people without registering anything about them, or murmuring "excuse me," or "thank you" to faceless shadows passing by. Even the way I sometimes listen with half an ear to a good friend while my attention roams. All the ways I don't pay attention.
By missing the vital center in other people, I keep my own center buried in my consciousness. I go along skimming the surface of all the possibilities that exist in the world. But if I pay attention, sympathy, empathy, projecting imagination into the heart of another - they make me feel connected, in touch with a deeper source of energy. They bring me alive. Then anything can happen and the new, the creative, the expansiveness of the world can come in.
The cliche holds: to give is to receive.
Who is right here? Is Jack a "maniac" filled with delusion that he sees Jill in that way? Or is it we "dull clods" who are missing the true essence of both of them? In fact, there is no right or wrong. What matters is what happens to Jack and Jill as they perceive all the little joys and disappointments, the thoughts and feelings each of them has - everything that is a hallmark of each other's humanity. Those intense, reciprocal perceptions add up to the significance they feel in themselves and in each other.
The rest of the essay is filled with examples of how easy it is to miss the vital center, the deep and complex humanity at the heart of us all. I often think of this as I move through the day - passing so many people without registering anything about them, or murmuring "excuse me," or "thank you" to faceless shadows passing by. Even the way I sometimes listen with half an ear to a good friend while my attention roams. All the ways I don't pay attention.
By missing the vital center in other people, I keep my own center buried in my consciousness. I go along skimming the surface of all the possibilities that exist in the world. But if I pay attention, sympathy, empathy, projecting imagination into the heart of another - they make me feel connected, in touch with a deeper source of energy. They bring me alive. Then anything can happen and the new, the creative, the expansiveness of the world can come in.
The cliche holds: to give is to receive.
Monday, January 18, 2016
SURVIVAL
I'm fascinated by stories of people who find spiritual freedom in the most unfree of circumstances. For a while, I read everything I could find - books by concentration camp survivors, prison memoirs, stories of people who had survived the imprisonment of poverty and disease. I was looking for examples of survival; I needed to know that it's always possible to emerge out of despair into a sense of freedom My actual circumstances were nowhere near as dire as those of the men and women I was reading about. I had food and shelter and freedom of motion. But I felt myself imprisoned by fear and self-loathing and the particular kind of hopelessness that told me nothing good could ever come.
I needed to know that there is always the possibility of getting. I was desperate to feel that possibility, to believe there was something that would help me leave depression and fear behind. I wanted to believe that my human spirit, like the spirits of the people I read about, could transcend suffering and let go of fear.
I know now from direct experience what that letting go feels like. When suffering cuts deep enough, the body and the spirit must make a choice - either to go under and face annihilation, or to let loose the survival instinct that's in all of us. It's that instinct which finds a way out of suffering and moves us toward the solace we seek, even if we don't understand it and have no faith at all. Spirit wants expansion and freedom. It wants to be set on fire. Strike a match and watch the light grow. Survive.
I needed to know that there is always the possibility of getting. I was desperate to feel that possibility, to believe there was something that would help me leave depression and fear behind. I wanted to believe that my human spirit, like the spirits of the people I read about, could transcend suffering and let go of fear.
I know now from direct experience what that letting go feels like. When suffering cuts deep enough, the body and the spirit must make a choice - either to go under and face annihilation, or to let loose the survival instinct that's in all of us. It's that instinct which finds a way out of suffering and moves us toward the solace we seek, even if we don't understand it and have no faith at all. Spirit wants expansion and freedom. It wants to be set on fire. Strike a match and watch the light grow. Survive.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
FREEDOM IN EVOLUTION
Returning to Basho: everyday is a journey and the journey itself is home...at home in the flow, in the constantly arising present...
All models of evolution appeal to me. Anchored in the always changing, all things contingent and in motion...
This is why people are still fighting against Darwin, against an evolutionary model. Many people want to hold to what they believe is eternal, written in stone, unchanging. The idea that everything is in motion terrifies them or at least makes them seasick; their way of being rooted (so different from mine) is to attach to what they believe is solid and predictable. Attachment to what is unchanging makes them feel safe. It's the conservative personality.
My safety is in the constantly evolving world and my place in it. Nothing is solid in my being and that is freedom - my perspective and attitudes are all liable to change, which means that I can go through the looking glass and experience black turning to white, negativity turning to optimism, fear turning to faith. Evolving consciousness means that I can awaken at any time and have the possibility of liberation.
All models of evolution appeal to me. Anchored in the always changing, all things contingent and in motion...
This is why people are still fighting against Darwin, against an evolutionary model. Many people want to hold to what they believe is eternal, written in stone, unchanging. The idea that everything is in motion terrifies them or at least makes them seasick; their way of being rooted (so different from mine) is to attach to what they believe is solid and predictable. Attachment to what is unchanging makes them feel safe. It's the conservative personality.
My safety is in the constantly evolving world and my place in it. Nothing is solid in my being and that is freedom - my perspective and attitudes are all liable to change, which means that I can go through the looking glass and experience black turning to white, negativity turning to optimism, fear turning to faith. Evolving consciousness means that I can awaken at any time and have the possibility of liberation.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
FLOODS AND WATER SPOUTS
"There is a state of mind, known to religious men, but to no others, in which the will to assert ourselves and hold our own has been displaced by a willingness to close our mouths and be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God. In this state of mind, what we most dreaded has become the habitation of our safety, and the hour of our moral death has turned into our spiritual birthday. The time for tension in our soul is over and that of happy relaxation, of calm deep breathing, of an eternal present, with no discordant future to be anxious about, has arrived. Fear is not held in abeyance as it is by mere morality, it is positively expunged and washed away."
That's William James in "The Varieties of Religious Experience." He was, in his way, as fine a writer as his brother, Henry and it's hard to think of a better description of the transcendent spiritual experience. "A willingness to close our mouths and be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God..." To surrender will and the desire for control and what we most dreaded, the surrendering of ego, has turned out to be our one true refuge. Our moral death...the death of all our concerns with right and wrong, our views and opinions, with everything which inhabits our rational mind. Fear isn't defused by thinking. It ceases to exist.
I keep returning to "to be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God..." That image of water washing over me, and my submerging myself in it, taken completely out of my fearful defensive ego, floating in an eternal present. No words, no ideas in that beautiful water, only the oceanic tides of transcendence.
That's William James in "The Varieties of Religious Experience." He was, in his way, as fine a writer as his brother, Henry and it's hard to think of a better description of the transcendent spiritual experience. "A willingness to close our mouths and be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God..." To surrender will and the desire for control and what we most dreaded, the surrendering of ego, has turned out to be our one true refuge. Our moral death...the death of all our concerns with right and wrong, our views and opinions, with everything which inhabits our rational mind. Fear isn't defused by thinking. It ceases to exist.
I keep returning to "to be as nothing in the floods and waterspouts of God..." That image of water washing over me, and my submerging myself in it, taken completely out of my fearful defensive ego, floating in an eternal present. No words, no ideas in that beautiful water, only the oceanic tides of transcendence.
Wednesday, January 13, 2016
ME AND MACHIAVELLI
A couple of weeks ago, my wi-fi kept dropping out, coming back up, then dropping out again. I called my ISL provider.* I was on the phone for almost two hours with the tech. My job was mostly to be silent and tap some keys when I was told to. I could have gotten irritated or impatient when nothing worked, but I could tell she was trying everything she could think of to fix the problem without having to send someone to my house. She finally ran out of options and we made appointment for someone to come the next day. "I know you tried everything you could think of," I said, as we were saying goodbye. "And you've been very patient," she said.
In fact, I was amazed at how patient I'd been. But I knew that if I'd gotten irritated or sounded impatient, it would have made the tech defensive, she would feel pressured and wouldn't have been so willing to try so many things. If I had said, forget it, I see you can't fix it, she would hear that I thought she wasn't any good at her job, and both she and I would have walked away angry. Anger is something I no longer want to carry around; far better to be patient and polite.
Over the years, I've developed what I guess you'd call a technique for dealing with people who won't do what I want - for instance, correct the phone bill. I keep my voice neutral and never say anything remotely adversarial. "You're absolutely right," I say if they accuse me of some non-existent infraction. "How can I fix that? What would you do?" Since everyone likes to be told they're right and to be asked their opinion, they and I become allies, collaborators in finding a solution to the problem. I - and they - go away happy.
Here is the thing I think about. Is this technique I use simply a social skill I've picked up? Or, since I'm saying things to produce a certain result and the other person is unaware of it, is that actually manipulation? It certainly isn't Machiavellian but still...I think about a director doing whatever it takes to get a good performance out of an actor - it's a worthy goal, for the sake of art, so does that justify belittling the actor so she'll explode in anger in the scene?
The more I think about it, the more I see that everyone uses what I'd call small manipulations and probably many times a day. Why else are we polite but to have people think well of us and to keep the peace? (That one is so small I'm not even sure you can call that manipulation at all.) We all have goals and it's only human to try to arrange things so we can reach them.
But it's worth asking, when do these small manipulations cross over into something we feel is unfair? Where is the line between using social skills and taking advantage of someone? At what point, do we get a whiff of Machiavelli? Granted that line is hard to pinpoint. It's something like what the judge said when asked for a definition of pornography: I can't define it, but I know it when I see it. Each of us senses when the line is crossed.
We sense it because each of us, without even thinking about it, carries around a set of ethical standards bred in us by the culture and now, given recent studies of babies who show an innate sense of fairness, in our genes. Why some of us are able very easily to ignore those standards is a question for another day.
*There are phrases that float through the atmosphere, in the background, hardly registering. ISL provider. Jack-knifed big rig. Monsoonal moisture. On the 405...I love them all. I also love K for C: Klip and Kurl, Kathy's Kabinet...you probably know many more.
In fact, I was amazed at how patient I'd been. But I knew that if I'd gotten irritated or sounded impatient, it would have made the tech defensive, she would feel pressured and wouldn't have been so willing to try so many things. If I had said, forget it, I see you can't fix it, she would hear that I thought she wasn't any good at her job, and both she and I would have walked away angry. Anger is something I no longer want to carry around; far better to be patient and polite.
Over the years, I've developed what I guess you'd call a technique for dealing with people who won't do what I want - for instance, correct the phone bill. I keep my voice neutral and never say anything remotely adversarial. "You're absolutely right," I say if they accuse me of some non-existent infraction. "How can I fix that? What would you do?" Since everyone likes to be told they're right and to be asked their opinion, they and I become allies, collaborators in finding a solution to the problem. I - and they - go away happy.
Here is the thing I think about. Is this technique I use simply a social skill I've picked up? Or, since I'm saying things to produce a certain result and the other person is unaware of it, is that actually manipulation? It certainly isn't Machiavellian but still...I think about a director doing whatever it takes to get a good performance out of an actor - it's a worthy goal, for the sake of art, so does that justify belittling the actor so she'll explode in anger in the scene?
The more I think about it, the more I see that everyone uses what I'd call small manipulations and probably many times a day. Why else are we polite but to have people think well of us and to keep the peace? (That one is so small I'm not even sure you can call that manipulation at all.) We all have goals and it's only human to try to arrange things so we can reach them.
But it's worth asking, when do these small manipulations cross over into something we feel is unfair? Where is the line between using social skills and taking advantage of someone? At what point, do we get a whiff of Machiavelli? Granted that line is hard to pinpoint. It's something like what the judge said when asked for a definition of pornography: I can't define it, but I know it when I see it. Each of us senses when the line is crossed.
We sense it because each of us, without even thinking about it, carries around a set of ethical standards bred in us by the culture and now, given recent studies of babies who show an innate sense of fairness, in our genes. Why some of us are able very easily to ignore those standards is a question for another day.
*There are phrases that float through the atmosphere, in the background, hardly registering. ISL provider. Jack-knifed big rig. Monsoonal moisture. On the 405...I love them all. I also love K for C: Klip and Kurl, Kathy's Kabinet...you probably know many more.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
GANDHI AND SIGNIFICANCE
I have a tee-shirt stuffed away on a closet shelf. Someone gave it to me years ago, it's never fit and I've never worn it. But I can't throw it away because on the front is a drawing of Gandhi and a quote: What you do may be insignificant but it is very important that you do it.
So simple, so direct. I have very little control over the outcome of my actions. What I do may have very little effect. But it's very important that I act in whatever way I can - to protest injustice, to maintain integrity, to have the courage to face my personal demons and defects.
Here is the freeing thought: the real importance of my life isn't in what the world tells me I've achieved but in my working to achieve it. My sense of worth, of fulfillment, comes from what I do in any given day to deepen my connection to the world and the energy inside me, to practice kindness and compassion, to work toward goals I believe in and do the work I want to do. I don't know where it all will lead in the future but if I do my best on this day, I know the satisfaction I will feel when I close my eyes tonight.
So simple, so direct. I have very little control over the outcome of my actions. What I do may have very little effect. But it's very important that I act in whatever way I can - to protest injustice, to maintain integrity, to have the courage to face my personal demons and defects.
Here is the freeing thought: the real importance of my life isn't in what the world tells me I've achieved but in my working to achieve it. My sense of worth, of fulfillment, comes from what I do in any given day to deepen my connection to the world and the energy inside me, to practice kindness and compassion, to work toward goals I believe in and do the work I want to do. I don't know where it all will lead in the future but if I do my best on this day, I know the satisfaction I will feel when I close my eyes tonight.
Monday, January 11, 2016
STEPPING OFF
As a queen sits down, knowing that a chair will be there,
Or a general raises his hand and is given the field- glasses,
Step off assuredly into the blank of your mind.
Something will come to you.
Those are the opening lines of "Walking to Sleep," a poem by Richard Wilbur. They remind me of when I was in graduate school and had paper after paper to write. With experience, I realized that even when I felt overwhelmed by the reading or was certain I had nothing of interest to say, if I sat in front of the computer - stayed in the chair - something would come to me and lead me on from there. As if obeying an order from the Red Queen in "Alice In Wonderland," I would start at the beginning, work through the middle and stop when I came to the end. I developed some faith that if I focused, something would come.
There is a deeper meaning to those lines; faith is the real topic Wilbur writes about. "Step off assuredly..." Step off - not merely face, but step off into the blankness, give yourself up to it, let yourself be submerged in that still, clear pool, that cloud of unknowing. And be assured, step gingerly, with confidence, in faith. Free yourself...and something will come.
In fact, we are all stepping off from moment to moment; we step off into what we don't know and can't see; we are always risking going forward into the unknown. I may do it with confidence or I may do it with fear, but confidence and fear are two sides of an ancient coin that comes from the past. I want to leave both of them behind, to face the future with the freedom of the blank, free of opinions and ideas that can only narrow my view. Faith is the ledge I step off from. Without it, I would be paralyzed, unable to take a step at all, and then I would miss the world as it reveals itself to me. I would miss all that might, undoubtedly shall come to me.
Or a general raises his hand and is given the field- glasses,
Step off assuredly into the blank of your mind.
Something will come to you.
Those are the opening lines of "Walking to Sleep," a poem by Richard Wilbur. They remind me of when I was in graduate school and had paper after paper to write. With experience, I realized that even when I felt overwhelmed by the reading or was certain I had nothing of interest to say, if I sat in front of the computer - stayed in the chair - something would come to me and lead me on from there. As if obeying an order from the Red Queen in "Alice In Wonderland," I would start at the beginning, work through the middle and stop when I came to the end. I developed some faith that if I focused, something would come.
There is a deeper meaning to those lines; faith is the real topic Wilbur writes about. "Step off assuredly..." Step off - not merely face, but step off into the blankness, give yourself up to it, let yourself be submerged in that still, clear pool, that cloud of unknowing. And be assured, step gingerly, with confidence, in faith. Free yourself...and something will come.
In fact, we are all stepping off from moment to moment; we step off into what we don't know and can't see; we are always risking going forward into the unknown. I may do it with confidence or I may do it with fear, but confidence and fear are two sides of an ancient coin that comes from the past. I want to leave both of them behind, to face the future with the freedom of the blank, free of opinions and ideas that can only narrow my view. Faith is the ledge I step off from. Without it, I would be paralyzed, unable to take a step at all, and then I would miss the world as it reveals itself to me. I would miss all that might, undoubtedly shall come to me.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
A SIGH IS JUST A SIGH
All afternoon, as I trudged through a very tired day, I found myself sighing. It occurred to me that sighs are actually interesting. Even though a sigh is half inhale and half exhale, it's different that deep breathing or the inhale/exhale of meditation. When I sigh, at the moment inhale becomes exhale, I make a sound as I push out the breath, or even murmur, "Oh, my."
That sigh wants to be heard. It's a signal: I'm tired and oppressed with how much I have to do, or how little the world is rewarding me, how much I have to resign myself to. Even when I sigh when I'm alone, it's my way of asking the world for a metaphorical hug, a comforting pat on the back, at least an acknowledgement that poor pitiful me is in need of sympathy.
Saying all that has made me sigh. It was a deep one, and long; I managed to release some of the tension in my chest and that feels great. Of course, I know the tension will be back but I'll deal with it. I can always sigh again.
That sigh wants to be heard. It's a signal: I'm tired and oppressed with how much I have to do, or how little the world is rewarding me, how much I have to resign myself to. Even when I sigh when I'm alone, it's my way of asking the world for a metaphorical hug, a comforting pat on the back, at least an acknowledgement that poor pitiful me is in need of sympathy.
Saying all that has made me sigh. It was a deep one, and long; I managed to release some of the tension in my chest and that feels great. Of course, I know the tension will be back but I'll deal with it. I can always sigh again.
Saturday, January 9, 2016
THE BONDAGE OF SELF
The bondage of self...prisons of our own making...it's very true that each of us is an interpreter of her own experience. The information that comes to me through my senses, the thoughts and feelings it gives rise to, are all filtered though the whole of my consciousness and then it is I who assign it meaning and value. I grew up with a mother whose anxiety undermined me and whose certainty that nothing good could ever happen filled me with despair. That insecurity and despair became the deepest part of me. Freud talked about drives, the inner unknown compulsions and reactions which unconsciously control what we do, what we think, what we believe. Insecurity and despair were driving me. They were the oldest part of me, and they colored everything that happened to me. No matter what happened, I found a way to turn it into proof of all my failings and that I was doomed to be alone, unloved and unfulfilled. There was the bondage of self, the prison of my own making.
I used to blame myself for the black cloud that seemed to follow me around. "All right, I see the insecurity and despair but I can't seem to get past them. I'm too weak, too resistant; I have a fatal flaw I can't even see much less do anything about. I'm fairly sophisticated about psychological twists and turns; I've been in therapy; I've studied the great universal spiritual principles that human beings have turned to to quiet and comfort the turmoil. So I must be to blame that none of that has taken away the darkness at my core."
But somewhere along the way, I began to understand that the core of darkness wasn't solid, real, written in stone. It was entrenched but as ephemeral as the lightest idea, a snippet of song floating through my head. I began to imagine it as the purveyor of bad news, a witness for the prosecution, a broadcaster with a very faulty signal. I saw it as something fluid, amorphous, viscous that I could move and shape. I began to understand that what we call reality is only the product of our imaginations. That was the great insight, that all my dark thoughts and feelings had no reality but the one my interpreting consciousness gave to them. That core had given me a very harsh view of my reality but I could create a new way of seeing. I myself could bring down the prison walls.
Change comes in fits and starts, sometimes with a rush and a sense of exhilaration. Sometimes I feel I'm a rabbit in a burrow, nosing a rock inch by inch that completely blocks the way ahead. But I keep pushing, in the hope that the rock will fall away and a wide vista will stretch out before me and I'll know that I am heading where I want to go.
My daily life goes on and some days are good and some days are bad. But behind all of it is a hard won bedrock faith that change is possible. even for me.
I used to blame myself for the black cloud that seemed to follow me around. "All right, I see the insecurity and despair but I can't seem to get past them. I'm too weak, too resistant; I have a fatal flaw I can't even see much less do anything about. I'm fairly sophisticated about psychological twists and turns; I've been in therapy; I've studied the great universal spiritual principles that human beings have turned to to quiet and comfort the turmoil. So I must be to blame that none of that has taken away the darkness at my core."
But somewhere along the way, I began to understand that the core of darkness wasn't solid, real, written in stone. It was entrenched but as ephemeral as the lightest idea, a snippet of song floating through my head. I began to imagine it as the purveyor of bad news, a witness for the prosecution, a broadcaster with a very faulty signal. I saw it as something fluid, amorphous, viscous that I could move and shape. I began to understand that what we call reality is only the product of our imaginations. That was the great insight, that all my dark thoughts and feelings had no reality but the one my interpreting consciousness gave to them. That core had given me a very harsh view of my reality but I could create a new way of seeing. I myself could bring down the prison walls.
Change comes in fits and starts, sometimes with a rush and a sense of exhilaration. Sometimes I feel I'm a rabbit in a burrow, nosing a rock inch by inch that completely blocks the way ahead. But I keep pushing, in the hope that the rock will fall away and a wide vista will stretch out before me and I'll know that I am heading where I want to go.
My daily life goes on and some days are good and some days are bad. But behind all of it is a hard won bedrock faith that change is possible. even for me.
Friday, January 8, 2016
BILL RUSSELL'S LAUGH
Years ago, I wrote a line of dialogue: "Like driving home at 3AM and making all the lights." It's stayed with me I think because it gets to something we all know, those times of perfect synchronicity when all systems are go, it's smooth sailing, when without even thinking about it, everything works.
Bill Russell, the great basketball hero, wrote a book and in it he talked about how in some games, not very often and not for very long, it's was if the players were lifted up into a new dimension, all of them in sync playing without thinking. Russell said it stopped mattering who won and lost. The opposition stopped being the opposition; all the players on the court were part of a completely organic whole. It was deep joy in the game. "In the zone" is too small a phrase for it. What I prefer is transcendence.
You can't decree these moments, but you can do what you can to prepare the way. Russell and the others worked very hard and very long to be the best they could be, and they got so good, they were ready for those moments of joy. I want to do whatever I can to smooth my own path, to practice being open and willing, to nourish the connection to my spirit and heart, so that I create at least the possibility of such golden times.
(By the way, I've often thought that if I could take only one thing with me to a desert isle it would be Bill Russell's laugh. Talk about joy. If you haven't heard it, you should try to track it down.),
Bill Russell, the great basketball hero, wrote a book and in it he talked about how in some games, not very often and not for very long, it's was if the players were lifted up into a new dimension, all of them in sync playing without thinking. Russell said it stopped mattering who won and lost. The opposition stopped being the opposition; all the players on the court were part of a completely organic whole. It was deep joy in the game. "In the zone" is too small a phrase for it. What I prefer is transcendence.
You can't decree these moments, but you can do what you can to prepare the way. Russell and the others worked very hard and very long to be the best they could be, and they got so good, they were ready for those moments of joy. I want to do whatever I can to smooth my own path, to practice being open and willing, to nourish the connection to my spirit and heart, so that I create at least the possibility of such golden times.
(By the way, I've often thought that if I could take only one thing with me to a desert isle it would be Bill Russell's laugh. Talk about joy. If you haven't heard it, you should try to track it down.),
Thursday, January 7, 2016
TEMPERAMENT
I've been thinking about the power of temperament. Some people naturally gravitate toward conservative ideas and structures while others gravitate toward liberal ideas and a less regimented life. By nature...is temperament something we're born with? And if it is, can we change it? And if we can change it, how?
There are no concrete answers to those questions but the exploration, an ever-widening exploration, leads from an intellectual description into the deepest part of me, the part that feels despair that no amount of change will lead me where I want to go, and the part that chooses to have faith that I can get, not completely free, but freer so I can act.
That isn't exactly a matter of temperament; it has also to do with upbringing, the traits that are imprinted on us by our experience. But by temperament, I gravitate toward change and evolution. I want to do what I can to cultivate that predisposition, to have faith in its possibilities and allow that faith to carry me forward.
There are no concrete answers to those questions but the exploration, an ever-widening exploration, leads from an intellectual description into the deepest part of me, the part that feels despair that no amount of change will lead me where I want to go, and the part that chooses to have faith that I can get, not completely free, but freer so I can act.
That isn't exactly a matter of temperament; it has also to do with upbringing, the traits that are imprinted on us by our experience. But by temperament, I gravitate toward change and evolution. I want to do what I can to cultivate that predisposition, to have faith in its possibilities and allow that faith to carry me forward.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
CLARK KENT'S SHIRT
I don't like to do anything on a daily basis. I don't like routines. I've known people who thrive on routine; they know where they'll be next Monday and every Monday after that, they have a set time for various activities, they always go to the same restaurant on Sunday night.
It may be that routines make people feel safe. I can see there's comfort in structure, not only in not having to think about what to do next but in the repetition itself which can function as an anchor.
I'd like to say I'm a spontaneous person, a free spirit, easily jumping into the unknown. But in truth my disdain for routine comes from two issues I have always and still struggle with: commitment and self-discipline. The commitments I don't keep are mostly to myself - I say I will meditate and don't, or write for an hour in the morning and don't, or clean the bathroom and don't. I say, I need to sit down and do my taxes and don't, I need to make that phone call I've been putting off and don't.
In a sense, lack of commitment and lack of self-discipline are two aspects of a single coin. They both lead to a life of little accomplishment. I sometimes think I've been like a seed in a field. I sprout, took around, decide there's more sun over there and run to that new place, then look around and decide there's more water of there and run....again and again. But one day I look around and I see all the other sprouts who have stayed in the same place have put down roots and are thriving while I am stunted and weak. I may have seen more of the world but I have less to show for it.
The sprout story actually describes the way I used to be. Somewhere along the line I learned that the resistance that comes up in me at the thought of routine or the thought of doing what I say I'll do about my work or the house - that resistance keeps me from connecting with myself and others. And I know now I want the energy and well-being that comes from those connections.
So I focus on resistance. I've learned what it feels like in my body so that I'm able to recognize it. Oh, this is my old old friend Resistance, one of my oldest responses - which I don't want to drive me anymore. I want to break free. I often get the image of something like a beetle, an insect with a thick carapace and I feel I have one, too, and I begin expanding until it cracks and I can get my hands in the crack and pull it open. It occurs to me that is what Clark Kent does as he changes into Superman. Rip open that shirt! Rip open that carapace! Do what you can to get free!
It may be that routines make people feel safe. I can see there's comfort in structure, not only in not having to think about what to do next but in the repetition itself which can function as an anchor.
I'd like to say I'm a spontaneous person, a free spirit, easily jumping into the unknown. But in truth my disdain for routine comes from two issues I have always and still struggle with: commitment and self-discipline. The commitments I don't keep are mostly to myself - I say I will meditate and don't, or write for an hour in the morning and don't, or clean the bathroom and don't. I say, I need to sit down and do my taxes and don't, I need to make that phone call I've been putting off and don't.
In a sense, lack of commitment and lack of self-discipline are two aspects of a single coin. They both lead to a life of little accomplishment. I sometimes think I've been like a seed in a field. I sprout, took around, decide there's more sun over there and run to that new place, then look around and decide there's more water of there and run....again and again. But one day I look around and I see all the other sprouts who have stayed in the same place have put down roots and are thriving while I am stunted and weak. I may have seen more of the world but I have less to show for it.
The sprout story actually describes the way I used to be. Somewhere along the line I learned that the resistance that comes up in me at the thought of routine or the thought of doing what I say I'll do about my work or the house - that resistance keeps me from connecting with myself and others. And I know now I want the energy and well-being that comes from those connections.
So I focus on resistance. I've learned what it feels like in my body so that I'm able to recognize it. Oh, this is my old old friend Resistance, one of my oldest responses - which I don't want to drive me anymore. I want to break free. I often get the image of something like a beetle, an insect with a thick carapace and I feel I have one, too, and I begin expanding until it cracks and I can get my hands in the crack and pull it open. It occurs to me that is what Clark Kent does as he changes into Superman. Rip open that shirt! Rip open that carapace! Do what you can to get free!
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
DON'T KNOW MIND
I often find myself doing what some people would call praying, but I don't believe in "God" so who or what am I praying to? I ask, "Show me what to do in order to let go of fear" - or anger or an obsession that's taken over my being, or anything else that's creating turmoil in me. Who or what do I ask, "Show me what to do in order to get free?"
When I ask these questions, my head is metaphorically bowed, and I'm reaching for the kind of humility that helps me surrender all the machinations of my relentless ego. I'm encouraging myself to put aside my demands, my expectations, the scheming for control. I'm becoming willing to connect with another aspect of my consciousness, whatever that "place" is beyond my ego's narrow awareness. There are no words in that place, no views and opinions, no clinging and no demands. Religion, psychology and spiritual experience have many names for what is a universal sense that there is something beyond our human Small-Mind with its self-centeredness, fear and pride.
When I allow myself to expand fully into the spaciousness beyond my own Small-Mind, I'm in what the Buddhists call Don't Know Mind. (This is a description that is full of wonderful connotations for me, but I think each of us finds our own descriptions and resonances.) In that expansive, borderless "place," I lose all sense of my conscious will, become alert and receptive, allow for deeper and more intuitive knowledge to emerge. This knowledge may or may not provide answers to my specific questions; it may simply be a building block on the path I'm trying to find, the path to freedom.
When I ask these questions, my head is metaphorically bowed, and I'm reaching for the kind of humility that helps me surrender all the machinations of my relentless ego. I'm encouraging myself to put aside my demands, my expectations, the scheming for control. I'm becoming willing to connect with another aspect of my consciousness, whatever that "place" is beyond my ego's narrow awareness. There are no words in that place, no views and opinions, no clinging and no demands. Religion, psychology and spiritual experience have many names for what is a universal sense that there is something beyond our human Small-Mind with its self-centeredness, fear and pride.
When I allow myself to expand fully into the spaciousness beyond my own Small-Mind, I'm in what the Buddhists call Don't Know Mind. (This is a description that is full of wonderful connotations for me, but I think each of us finds our own descriptions and resonances.) In that expansive, borderless "place," I lose all sense of my conscious will, become alert and receptive, allow for deeper and more intuitive knowledge to emerge. This knowledge may or may not provide answers to my specific questions; it may simply be a building block on the path I'm trying to find, the path to freedom.
Monday, January 4, 2016
TWILIGHT
There's a beautiful sunset tonight. The sky has more clouds than is usual here in Los Angeles and they have a deep blue-grey color. There's a church not far away and the top of its steeple is lighted and stands out; it has that sun-is-setting glow that seems to come in the early evening. Looking west, the clouds make a pattern on the sky and in between them is a vivid band of gold and orange. This is the sort of scene that makes me want to keep looking. It slows me down so that I can watch the colors and the light fade. There is a line of palm trees now silhouetted against the sky, the tall thin kind, and they too are still as if caught in whatever slow motion world I've gladly entered.
The lights of the city are already coming on. The deepening dark of the clouds now looks like velvet as if they have a nap, a surface dimension. The orange has become a red made of many tones, as if it were airbrushed onto the sky. Everything is full of a slow evolving, an almost imperceptible transformation.
Watching, I feel right-sized. My ego is stilled and I become part of what I'm looking out at. It reminds me of a wonderful poem by the Polish Noble Prize winning poet, Czeslaw Milosz. He was in Berkeley when he wrote it and looking out at the day rather than night. But stopping for a moment, sighing a sigh of release, connecting with the beautiful world around us - it's all the same.
A day so happy.
Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden.
Hummingbirds were stopping over honey-
suckle flowers.
There was no thing on earth I wanted to
possess.
I knew no one worth my envying him.
Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot.
To think that once I was the same man did not
embarrass me.
In my body I felt no pain.
When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and
sails.
The lights of the city are already coming on. The deepening dark of the clouds now looks like velvet as if they have a nap, a surface dimension. The orange has become a red made of many tones, as if it were airbrushed onto the sky. Everything is full of a slow evolving, an almost imperceptible transformation.
Watching, I feel right-sized. My ego is stilled and I become part of what I'm looking out at. It reminds me of a wonderful poem by the Polish Noble Prize winning poet, Czeslaw Milosz. He was in Berkeley when he wrote it and looking out at the day rather than night. But stopping for a moment, sighing a sigh of release, connecting with the beautiful world around us - it's all the same.
A day so happy.
Fog lifted early, I worked in the garden.
Hummingbirds were stopping over honey-
suckle flowers.
There was no thing on earth I wanted to
possess.
I knew no one worth my envying him.
Whatever evil I had suffered, I forgot.
To think that once I was the same man did not
embarrass me.
In my body I felt no pain.
When straightening up, I saw the blue sea and
sails.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
GRATITUDE
I've had a good day today and I feel grateful for it. Gratitude, I think, is the aristocrat of emotions. When I open myself up to it, I feel a kind of grandeur, an expansion, a softening of boundaries so that I'm embracing my fullest self and connecting to everything that is in me and outside of me. There is something exhilarating in that kind of gratitude, transcendent, and once I first experienced it, I found I wanted more.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
PEELING THE EGG
Every morning, I make myself two hard boiled eggs. When I peel the shell, I see a thin membrane and if I catch that membrane the shell peels off easily. If I don't catch it, the egg winds up with gouges and they're in the white which I particularly like.
There are some people who seem to always catch the membrane. Their lives, at least from the outside, look smooth. They have success, money, a solid, long term relationship, children; they look like they've done everything right and been very lucky.
There are other people and I'm one of the one. Sometimes I catch the membrane and things go very right; sometimes I make a mess of things and things go very wrong. But, despite appearances, I don't think anyone gets out of this life without some gouges and bruises, without some suffering, loss and regrets. It's the way of the world, part of the human condition.
All I can do is be careful and pay attention. I can let the eggs cool enough for the membrane to contract. I can crack the shell at the bottom, where there's an air pocket, and with just enough force to avoid the shell itself digging into the eggs. Then I can take care when I begin peeling so that I don't use too much pressure. If I do all that, the shell comes off easily and I get to enjoy the egg.
Catching the membrane isn't rocket science. It just takes reminding myself to pay attention, focus and have patience.
There are some people who seem to always catch the membrane. Their lives, at least from the outside, look smooth. They have success, money, a solid, long term relationship, children; they look like they've done everything right and been very lucky.
There are other people and I'm one of the one. Sometimes I catch the membrane and things go very right; sometimes I make a mess of things and things go very wrong. But, despite appearances, I don't think anyone gets out of this life without some gouges and bruises, without some suffering, loss and regrets. It's the way of the world, part of the human condition.
All I can do is be careful and pay attention. I can let the eggs cool enough for the membrane to contract. I can crack the shell at the bottom, where there's an air pocket, and with just enough force to avoid the shell itself digging into the eggs. Then I can take care when I begin peeling so that I don't use too much pressure. If I do all that, the shell comes off easily and I get to enjoy the egg.
Catching the membrane isn't rocket science. It just takes reminding myself to pay attention, focus and have patience.
Friday, January 1, 2016
QUIETING THE FEAR
While there are times when it's useless to wait to be changed, there are also times when it's better to get quiet and listen. When I'm in fear, I want more than anything to get out of it, and I can feel my mind racing, jockeying for some position to give myself the sense that I'm in control. I want to believe I'm on top of things, that I have and can keep it together.
Fear comes up for all of us at any time. What will I do if I lose that job and can't pay the rent, or if something happens to my partner or my child, or if I develop a dread disease? Fear is a very human emotion and it can be healthy and self-productive. But sometimes it takes me over. What will I do if I don't get any of the things I want most? What if it turns out that every choice I've made has been the wrong one? What if the abyss still looms ahead of me?
When I'm fixated on those fears, I can feel my mind racing, jockeying to find some solid ground to stand on. I come up with rationalizations, seize on what I think are certainties, decide what I must do, all to give me the sense that I'm in control. But it's little more than grasping at straws. Besides, some part of me senses that I'm really filled with doubt and confusion - and that only doubles back and increases the fear.
I no longer blame myself for feeling fear and wanting so deeply to move out of it that I rush from answer to judgment and back again. The ego is a powerful entity and it will go a great distance in order to feel secure. Experience, though, has shown me again and again that ideas I construct in the midst of fear seldom lead to useful, constructive actions. In fact they open the way for the fear to return.
Instead, I'm learning to do whatever I can to get quiet, even in the face of fear, especially in the face of fear. Deep breathing, meditation, simply surrendering to the fear, acknowledging that I don't know what I should do - those things, both physical and emotional, create a space around the fear. That space is also a part of me and I remind myself it's at least as real as the fear. Sometimes an image comes, the hard kernel of fear wrapped in the soft cotton of spaciousness, or an immovable rock in a stream slowly shifted by flowing, clear water. These images are personal and no one has to respond to them but me. Anyone can find the ones that resonate and create a space so that anxiety, doubt and fear can be brought down to size, sometimes slowly, always gradually. In that space, answers can come from beyond the fears, projections and illusions of ego; they can come from a deeper internal space. Intuitively I feel when these are answers I can act upon even though I can't know beforehand if these answers are the "right" ones, by which I mean, the ones that will be productive, will lead me forward on this path I'm walking. Only action, one action leading to another will tell me, and if my choices aren't productive I can get quiet again to deal with the new circumstances.
I want to keep learning this lesson, that in the face of fear, it does little good to impose my frantic will. Instead, I want to be receptive, surrendered, so that I can hear the deeper truth inside me and be free to act.
Fear comes up for all of us at any time. What will I do if I lose that job and can't pay the rent, or if something happens to my partner or my child, or if I develop a dread disease? Fear is a very human emotion and it can be healthy and self-productive. But sometimes it takes me over. What will I do if I don't get any of the things I want most? What if it turns out that every choice I've made has been the wrong one? What if the abyss still looms ahead of me?
When I'm fixated on those fears, I can feel my mind racing, jockeying to find some solid ground to stand on. I come up with rationalizations, seize on what I think are certainties, decide what I must do, all to give me the sense that I'm in control. But it's little more than grasping at straws. Besides, some part of me senses that I'm really filled with doubt and confusion - and that only doubles back and increases the fear.
I no longer blame myself for feeling fear and wanting so deeply to move out of it that I rush from answer to judgment and back again. The ego is a powerful entity and it will go a great distance in order to feel secure. Experience, though, has shown me again and again that ideas I construct in the midst of fear seldom lead to useful, constructive actions. In fact they open the way for the fear to return.
Instead, I'm learning to do whatever I can to get quiet, even in the face of fear, especially in the face of fear. Deep breathing, meditation, simply surrendering to the fear, acknowledging that I don't know what I should do - those things, both physical and emotional, create a space around the fear. That space is also a part of me and I remind myself it's at least as real as the fear. Sometimes an image comes, the hard kernel of fear wrapped in the soft cotton of spaciousness, or an immovable rock in a stream slowly shifted by flowing, clear water. These images are personal and no one has to respond to them but me. Anyone can find the ones that resonate and create a space so that anxiety, doubt and fear can be brought down to size, sometimes slowly, always gradually. In that space, answers can come from beyond the fears, projections and illusions of ego; they can come from a deeper internal space. Intuitively I feel when these are answers I can act upon even though I can't know beforehand if these answers are the "right" ones, by which I mean, the ones that will be productive, will lead me forward on this path I'm walking. Only action, one action leading to another will tell me, and if my choices aren't productive I can get quiet again to deal with the new circumstances.
I want to keep learning this lesson, that in the face of fear, it does little good to impose my frantic will. Instead, I want to be receptive, surrendered, so that I can hear the deeper truth inside me and be free to act.
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