Sometimes we get on a train of thought that is taking us somewhere we don’t need to go. The alarm clock doesn’t chime, the newspaper is wet, and the cat messes on the carpet. It’s easy to believe “Nothing goes my way.” We’re late for our first appointment and we add, “It’s always been this way and it always will be.”
We can embellish that belief with more “proof” or we can stop and practice presence in the moment. We can notice what is right this moment—we have enough air to breathe, we have clothes to wear, we can appreciate being alive this second. By being available in the moment we board another train.
There are any number of trains we can take. No matter which we choose, we’re all going home. The journey may be comfortable or challenging. One train isn’t preferable to another. We can choose the drug addict/incarcerated train or the respectable/law-abiding train. It doesn’t matter.
We all need to learn and to grow and to practice self-acceptance. One scenario may garner approval from the society while another insures locked gates. But we all have the same lessons to learn. And the lesson is not about being successful.
Our challenge is to acknowledge the flow within us and around us and to work with Life. We find peace when we accept that state of affairs. It’s momentary and ever-evolving, but it’s the only game that really matters. If a drug addict works to insure his sobriety, a jail cell may be his perfect situation. If a felon learns forgiveness by delving to the depths of who he is and working through his self-hate, prison may be his church. If the wealthy attorney never gets past his need to compete, he’s missed the point. If a famous actress doesn’t love herself, she’s lost in the midst of her fans.
Life is about welcoming our challenges. We value our experience no matter what it is and we never blame others. The corollary to “Don’t take anything personally” is “Never make the issue interpersonal.” Our feelings are ours. Whatever I experience this second I need to experience and I own it and embrace it and learn from it. I don’t try to escape from my inner world by fleeing into busyness or distraction or thinking or controlling. Gratitude is always an appropriate response. This moment is perfect for me to learn what I need to learn. The only question is, Will I?
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Freedom In The Pen
When new attendees enter stress management, anger management, or depression management, we breathe. I facilitate groups for mentally ill inmates at a men’s state penitentiary. The group members have been diagnosed as having a thought disorder or a feeling disorder. They may have a short prison term or a life term. Most have substance abuse in their backgrounds. Today they cope with incarceration and its stresses. They can’t walk 100 yards in a straight line and some never will again. They eat what is given to them, not what they want. Privacy is lacking and quiet comes only in the early morning hours.
At the first class I talk about attention and I guide them through a breathing exercise in which we focus on the in-breaths and the out-breaths. We look at the breath. We don’t criticize the breath or change the breath. We simply practice focusing our attention and the breath is always available so we focus on that. We don’t mention the word meditation and we don’t intellectualize. We only experience.
I tell them that we are not trying to achieve anything by breathing; we just practice presence in each second. Anything that occurs around us is acceptable. They learn not to be concerned with what isn’t their business. The difference between what they can control and what they cannot control becomes clear.
At the end of class I say that the second daily practice in addition to being Observers inside is to be Observers outside. We don’t take anything personally. No matter what anyone does or says, it’s not personal to us. It’s personal to the speaker and we don’t have to react. Being in their detached Observer gives them time and space so they don’t get caught up in another inmate’s drama.
At the next few classes we talk about forgiveness. They say it’s easier to forgive others than to forgive themselves. They carry significant self-hate and admit that they deserve incarceration even though they suffer. Keeping their hearts closed promised them safety in a cruel world. Now, opening those bruised and wounded hearts challenges the inmates.
I encourage them to be their own best friend. I suggest that they pat themselves on the back each night for doing something right that day. Relating to themselves as responsible adults fosters a sense of integrity. They learn to refer to themselves for judgment about how they live.
We practice gratitude. Many say they are grateful to wake up each day. I encourage them to give thanks for small things—having fingernails, being able to tie their shoes, and having a bed. (It’s a relief for many of the mentally ill not to be homeless.) And then I recommend being grateful for what they don’t like and don’t want—saying thank you to themselves for the cell mate who snores, accepting rude words from an officer without responding and blessing him silently, being grateful when no mail arrives. They learn that their circumstances don’t determine their behavior or their feelings.
After weeks of practice I notice that the committed men are stiller, apparently happier with themselves, more present to the moment with less talk about the future. They are more available to their brothers who need guidance. I’m touched by their patience with the inmate who is developmentally delayed or by their explanation (in street terms) of why we breathe. (“It’s so we don’t hit the guy who pisses us off. I used to just cut anyone who dissed me but now I can wait and see that he’s just a loser who ain’t doing too good himself.”)
Their words are crude but the longer they breathe and practice being in their Observers the more I can feel their gentleness, the part of themselves they tried to destroy decades ago. They remain basically decent humans struggling to climb through layers and layers of hate and guilt and confusion. They gave up on themselves when everyone else gave up on them. They didn’t know how they were going to survive the pain and alienation and solitude of their miserable lives.
By breathing and identifying with their Observers, they find a meaning to their existence which they haven’t known. They can’t articulate a philosophy but they wake up each day with some small hope and some willingness to reach out. They don’t necessarily understand why their outlook has changed but without thought they replace their previous addictive behavior with their new-found commitment to breathing and observing.
They find power inside themselves instead of by using their fists. Their journey all along has been one of warrior but now they see it’s a warrior with their own demons not with others. In the past it was easier to focus on another man than to face their inner turmoil. With their skills of detached observing and breathing they can process any feeling or thought or impulse without destructive action. They say they feel freer practicing breathing and detached observing in prison than they ever felt on the streets. They had imprisoned themselves in their minds years ago when they tried to escape from themselves. Now when they open to every part of themselves, they resist nothing and resent nothing and accept what exists each second. They say they have found freedom.
At the first class I talk about attention and I guide them through a breathing exercise in which we focus on the in-breaths and the out-breaths. We look at the breath. We don’t criticize the breath or change the breath. We simply practice focusing our attention and the breath is always available so we focus on that. We don’t mention the word meditation and we don’t intellectualize. We only experience.
I tell them that we are not trying to achieve anything by breathing; we just practice presence in each second. Anything that occurs around us is acceptable. They learn not to be concerned with what isn’t their business. The difference between what they can control and what they cannot control becomes clear.
At the end of class I say that the second daily practice in addition to being Observers inside is to be Observers outside. We don’t take anything personally. No matter what anyone does or says, it’s not personal to us. It’s personal to the speaker and we don’t have to react. Being in their detached Observer gives them time and space so they don’t get caught up in another inmate’s drama.
At the next few classes we talk about forgiveness. They say it’s easier to forgive others than to forgive themselves. They carry significant self-hate and admit that they deserve incarceration even though they suffer. Keeping their hearts closed promised them safety in a cruel world. Now, opening those bruised and wounded hearts challenges the inmates.
I encourage them to be their own best friend. I suggest that they pat themselves on the back each night for doing something right that day. Relating to themselves as responsible adults fosters a sense of integrity. They learn to refer to themselves for judgment about how they live.
We practice gratitude. Many say they are grateful to wake up each day. I encourage them to give thanks for small things—having fingernails, being able to tie their shoes, and having a bed. (It’s a relief for many of the mentally ill not to be homeless.) And then I recommend being grateful for what they don’t like and don’t want—saying thank you to themselves for the cell mate who snores, accepting rude words from an officer without responding and blessing him silently, being grateful when no mail arrives. They learn that their circumstances don’t determine their behavior or their feelings.
After weeks of practice I notice that the committed men are stiller, apparently happier with themselves, more present to the moment with less talk about the future. They are more available to their brothers who need guidance. I’m touched by their patience with the inmate who is developmentally delayed or by their explanation (in street terms) of why we breathe. (“It’s so we don’t hit the guy who pisses us off. I used to just cut anyone who dissed me but now I can wait and see that he’s just a loser who ain’t doing too good himself.”)
Their words are crude but the longer they breathe and practice being in their Observers the more I can feel their gentleness, the part of themselves they tried to destroy decades ago. They remain basically decent humans struggling to climb through layers and layers of hate and guilt and confusion. They gave up on themselves when everyone else gave up on them. They didn’t know how they were going to survive the pain and alienation and solitude of their miserable lives.
By breathing and identifying with their Observers, they find a meaning to their existence which they haven’t known. They can’t articulate a philosophy but they wake up each day with some small hope and some willingness to reach out. They don’t necessarily understand why their outlook has changed but without thought they replace their previous addictive behavior with their new-found commitment to breathing and observing.
They find power inside themselves instead of by using their fists. Their journey all along has been one of warrior but now they see it’s a warrior with their own demons not with others. In the past it was easier to focus on another man than to face their inner turmoil. With their skills of detached observing and breathing they can process any feeling or thought or impulse without destructive action. They say they feel freer practicing breathing and detached observing in prison than they ever felt on the streets. They had imprisoned themselves in their minds years ago when they tried to escape from themselves. Now when they open to every part of themselves, they resist nothing and resent nothing and accept what exists each second. They say they have found freedom.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Non-Resistance
The days when my groups at the prison don’t go well and the wind is cold and my phone calls aren’t returned, I give thanks. When I feel stuck and frustrated, I am grateful. When my disappointment colors every interaction, I say Yes and Thank You.
Not because I am so lucky and I have so much and many others would trade places with me. My feelings are fine and I want to honor them. I give thanks because that’s all I can do. It’s the most selfish thing I choose because it always makes me feel better. So to get what I want, I release my hold on my intentions, I back off, and I assume a stance of non-resistance and grateful receptivity.
Thank you for the delayed mail. Thank you for the small turnout at my event. Thank you for the opportunity to forgive a hurtful remark.
When I don’t resist anything, everything proceeds more smoothly.
I trust that my time on earth is for learning lessons on levels my mind can’t reach. Life tries and tries and tries to teach me. I notice patterns in my experience—friendships that end abruptly, well thought out plans which don’t succeed, varied and impersonal but effective obstacles. My options in response: bloody my head further by continuing what doesn’t work, criticize others loudly (or even just to myself) and blame them, think, or surrender.
Anyone can grasp the futility of the first two choices but I’ve learned that thinking is also inappropriate at best and often self-indulgent. When it comes to life, experience is the teacher and to open to our experience we can’t be in our heads or close our hearts in fear of our feelings or curtail our vulnerability. We embrace our vulnerability and say Yes. We feel every scintilla of hurt and shame and powerlessness. We stay on our own side and keep our hearts open. We don’t disparage life’s messengers; we receive the message and focus on our experience. We feel and maybe cry and we hold ourselves as our loving Parent would and we surrender.
We practice surrender when we give thanks and when we feel our feelings and when we wait to be led. We practice surrender when we trust a guidance that is not from our mind. We adopt an attitude of non-resistance as a pattern for moving through Life. And by not resisting we partner with Life.
And then the fun begins!
Not because I am so lucky and I have so much and many others would trade places with me. My feelings are fine and I want to honor them. I give thanks because that’s all I can do. It’s the most selfish thing I choose because it always makes me feel better. So to get what I want, I release my hold on my intentions, I back off, and I assume a stance of non-resistance and grateful receptivity.
Thank you for the delayed mail. Thank you for the small turnout at my event. Thank you for the opportunity to forgive a hurtful remark.
When I don’t resist anything, everything proceeds more smoothly.
I trust that my time on earth is for learning lessons on levels my mind can’t reach. Life tries and tries and tries to teach me. I notice patterns in my experience—friendships that end abruptly, well thought out plans which don’t succeed, varied and impersonal but effective obstacles. My options in response: bloody my head further by continuing what doesn’t work, criticize others loudly (or even just to myself) and blame them, think, or surrender.
Anyone can grasp the futility of the first two choices but I’ve learned that thinking is also inappropriate at best and often self-indulgent. When it comes to life, experience is the teacher and to open to our experience we can’t be in our heads or close our hearts in fear of our feelings or curtail our vulnerability. We embrace our vulnerability and say Yes. We feel every scintilla of hurt and shame and powerlessness. We stay on our own side and keep our hearts open. We don’t disparage life’s messengers; we receive the message and focus on our experience. We feel and maybe cry and we hold ourselves as our loving Parent would and we surrender.
We practice surrender when we give thanks and when we feel our feelings and when we wait to be led. We practice surrender when we trust a guidance that is not from our mind. We adopt an attitude of non-resistance as a pattern for moving through Life. And by not resisting we partner with Life.
And then the fun begins!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
The Controller and the Hero
The Controller part of us knows how things ‘should’ be. She knows what’s right and what’s unacceptable and how we should look. She ‘has a vision’ which, she is sure, will make our lives turn out just the right way which will then lead us to happiness.
We listen to her and trust her during the first half of life. She gets us through school and work and child rearing. She focuses on behavior and activity and doing. And we garner some rewards. We fit in, our kids look fine, and we’ve achieved respectability. And then after a few years we say, ‘And what now?’
We can let the Controller keep pushing and positing goals for us and repeat the first half of life but really isn’t it a bit empty? There must be more to life than our minds can suggest. And then we realize we’ve benefitted as much as we can from the Controller. Now we need to listen to an as-yet-unheard-from part of us. In our quiet moments when we’re not too focused, we hear from our Hero.
The Hero is not ego-based or fear-based as is the Controller. The Hero lets go and surrenders and lives in a state of surrender. Life flows through her, she doesn’t direct life. And if she forgets that momentarily she breathes into that peaceful place inside, even if she can’t feel it at the moment (because she remembers that it’s there) and says , ‘I’m available.’ She knows that the second half of life is for practicing attunement and she must check in regularly by meditating to practice that attunement. It’s not about success or acclaim. It’s simply experiencing her oneness with God.
At the end of the day the Hero gives thanks for experiences of God and she also gives thanks for everything else. She knows that disappointments are opportunities to move more deeply inside and to heal at a depth of consciousness that hasn’t yet been explored.
The Hero pays attention to the details of daily life in a non-proprietary way. She observes the patterns and the themes. She watches her feelings and reactions and releases them and lets them pass. She watches the outside world and notices the details that mirror the inside world and she breathes and surrenders. She appreciates the oneness of the world around her and the world inside. It’s all the same.
It is truly a Hero’s journey to maintain a constant state of attention and availability. When the Controller intrudes too loudly, the Hero gives her a job to do that is appropriate for a Controller–managing a project or organizing a closet or making a list. The Controller solves problems. The Hero keeps her focus on attunement and availability.
Owning our power is the greatest second-half-of-life challenge for us all. What if I’m not good enough? What if I don’t know enough? What if I mess up? The truth is we’re not good enough, we don’t know enough, and we will and do mess up all the time. But that’s not the point. Owning our power is jumping into the game and saying, ‘I’m willing to play. I’ll do my best and I’ll check in for guidance by meditating. I don’t know where I’m going but I know I must show up and bring all of myself.’ No excuses, no delays.
We come from our peaceful centers and we nurture that peace. That’s what power is–our personal experience of the peace that exists beyond our individual selves. That peace exists. We can participate in it or not. It’s up to our Hero.
‘Be still and know that I am God.’ We are asked to ‘know,’ that is to be present, to experience our oneness with God. Isn’t that an amazing thought? I am one with God. My power lies in being still and knowing my oneness with God and that is Hero’s work. The Controller stays busy and gets tired and maybe frustrated and sometimes she’s a little tense and maybe short, but who can blame her? She does so much.
The Hero is still and knows her oneness with God. The Hero listens and is committed to being present. She doesn’t know if she will act or what she will do. She doesn’t think about the future. The Hero is simply available now. She’s not caught in resentment from some injustice that truly was an injustice but now is past. She doesn’t take offense because taking offense is as bad as giving offense and breaks her knowing that she is one with God. She practices forgiveness so she won’t lose her experience of oneness. The Hero doesn’t let anything interfere with her experience of oneness, not even the Controller.
The truth is that the Controller doesn’t want to be one with God. She wants to have her own identity and her own way and to get a lot done and to move fast and cram as much in a day as she can. The Hero is still and knows her oneness with God and that is all. She knows that life is about learning and she is humble and always alert for her lessons. She is a student, she is receptive, she waits to be shown. She says ‘Yes’ to Life and works in partnership with Life.
The Controller and the Hero are each good parts of us. Are you willing to let each part of you have time this week? Your Controller can get something done and your Hero can practice availability. Will you do that?
We listen to her and trust her during the first half of life. She gets us through school and work and child rearing. She focuses on behavior and activity and doing. And we garner some rewards. We fit in, our kids look fine, and we’ve achieved respectability. And then after a few years we say, ‘And what now?’
We can let the Controller keep pushing and positing goals for us and repeat the first half of life but really isn’t it a bit empty? There must be more to life than our minds can suggest. And then we realize we’ve benefitted as much as we can from the Controller. Now we need to listen to an as-yet-unheard-from part of us. In our quiet moments when we’re not too focused, we hear from our Hero.
The Hero is not ego-based or fear-based as is the Controller. The Hero lets go and surrenders and lives in a state of surrender. Life flows through her, she doesn’t direct life. And if she forgets that momentarily she breathes into that peaceful place inside, even if she can’t feel it at the moment (because she remembers that it’s there) and says , ‘I’m available.’ She knows that the second half of life is for practicing attunement and she must check in regularly by meditating to practice that attunement. It’s not about success or acclaim. It’s simply experiencing her oneness with God.
At the end of the day the Hero gives thanks for experiences of God and she also gives thanks for everything else. She knows that disappointments are opportunities to move more deeply inside and to heal at a depth of consciousness that hasn’t yet been explored.
The Hero pays attention to the details of daily life in a non-proprietary way. She observes the patterns and the themes. She watches her feelings and reactions and releases them and lets them pass. She watches the outside world and notices the details that mirror the inside world and she breathes and surrenders. She appreciates the oneness of the world around her and the world inside. It’s all the same.
It is truly a Hero’s journey to maintain a constant state of attention and availability. When the Controller intrudes too loudly, the Hero gives her a job to do that is appropriate for a Controller–managing a project or organizing a closet or making a list. The Controller solves problems. The Hero keeps her focus on attunement and availability.
Owning our power is the greatest second-half-of-life challenge for us all. What if I’m not good enough? What if I don’t know enough? What if I mess up? The truth is we’re not good enough, we don’t know enough, and we will and do mess up all the time. But that’s not the point. Owning our power is jumping into the game and saying, ‘I’m willing to play. I’ll do my best and I’ll check in for guidance by meditating. I don’t know where I’m going but I know I must show up and bring all of myself.’ No excuses, no delays.
We come from our peaceful centers and we nurture that peace. That’s what power is–our personal experience of the peace that exists beyond our individual selves. That peace exists. We can participate in it or not. It’s up to our Hero.
‘Be still and know that I am God.’ We are asked to ‘know,’ that is to be present, to experience our oneness with God. Isn’t that an amazing thought? I am one with God. My power lies in being still and knowing my oneness with God and that is Hero’s work. The Controller stays busy and gets tired and maybe frustrated and sometimes she’s a little tense and maybe short, but who can blame her? She does so much.
The Hero is still and knows her oneness with God. The Hero listens and is committed to being present. She doesn’t know if she will act or what she will do. She doesn’t think about the future. The Hero is simply available now. She’s not caught in resentment from some injustice that truly was an injustice but now is past. She doesn’t take offense because taking offense is as bad as giving offense and breaks her knowing that she is one with God. She practices forgiveness so she won’t lose her experience of oneness. The Hero doesn’t let anything interfere with her experience of oneness, not even the Controller.
The truth is that the Controller doesn’t want to be one with God. She wants to have her own identity and her own way and to get a lot done and to move fast and cram as much in a day as she can. The Hero is still and knows her oneness with God and that is all. She knows that life is about learning and she is humble and always alert for her lessons. She is a student, she is receptive, she waits to be shown. She says ‘Yes’ to Life and works in partnership with Life.
The Controller and the Hero are each good parts of us. Are you willing to let each part of you have time this week? Your Controller can get something done and your Hero can practice availability. Will you do that?
Monday, May 2, 2011
Owning Our Power Through Meditation
I get crazy when folks in the meditation group ask me “why” questions or repeat what the current guru has said on television or talk in abstractions off the top of their heads. I have committed to make the Saturday morning meditation group a healing experience and healing never happens intellectually. The Controller tells us to get into our heads. The Controller is trying to protect our vulnerability, to prevent too much feeling, and to live superficially. The Controller is never the figure we call on when we want to live with passion and depth, the essence of meditation.
The Controller helps us keep our lives going by attending to necessary details–keep food in the fridge, cut the grass, balance the bank statement (or at least know pretty much where you stand), pay bills on time, change the sheets regularly, buy clothes on sale, and generally use good judgment in practical matters.
That’s great and we absolutely need the Controller’s input. I hope you have a strong Controller. But as with everything else there is a time and place for the Controller. If we indulge the Controller with too much of our energy we’ll have trouble sleeping, lose our spontaneity, forget how to have fun, and turn our lives into a series of projects to be completed.
The Controller is a subpersonality we develop from our experience growing up. In school we meet certain expectations–arrive on time, keep our desks neat, hand in homework, and sit quietly when the teacher speaks. We restrain our here-to-fore unrestrained natural enthusiasm in deference to the demands of the world around us. We all need to learn that lesson and to give it priority in many parts of our lives–our work, our responsibilities as citizens and neighbors, our conduct with strangers, and our planning for the future. We don’t want to live without a Controller.
However, the Controller is not how we heal. Healing requires vulnerability and an open-ended commitment to be present and to see what happens. We don’t want to use that presence and vulnerability with the tax collector. We give the state its due. But just as we have responsibilities to the outside world we have responsibilities to the inner world, also. “Why,” you ask, “is it not enough to obey the law, live a decent life, and contribute in our own particular way?” Certainly no one will criticize you and you will build a comfortable life for yourself. If you are satisfied with ceasing your questing at that point, OK.
Some of us feel pulled to look more deeply, however. The death of a child thrusts us into an agony we don’t think we can survive. An unexpected turn of events leaves us without the future we had counted on. Or simply living every day pulls us away from the world and into spaces inside which scare us. For whatever reason, we want more. The surface verities don’t satisfy and our heads can’t answer soulful questions. Our churches offer comfort and support but this delving to which we are called is so personal that we must set out alone. It would be easier if we could take the latest best seller with us and we could read about our lives but at some point we are confronted with experiencing our lives. Just experiencing. Not understanding, not controlling, not directing. Simply experiencing. Saying Yes to the moment and experiencing what is at any given second.
At first this exercise may serve to get us through a strained time but eventually it becomes a way of life. And then we don’t identify with the Controller but with the one caught in the current. We don’t know where we are being carried and we don’t need to. We simply say Yes.
On an inner level we practice non-resistance to everything–I won’t fight any feeling which comes up, then acceptance of everything–thank you for this feeling which I don’t like, then trust–I say Yes to this second. Owning our power includes each of these steps. Non-resistance challenges those of us who like to act, who judge and want to correct. But as we accept that life is not a problem to be solved and that our minds (our Controllers) don’t know best, we acknowledge the beauty and wisdom in the patterns of our lives which lead us to heal. Life is for healing through experience. If our Controllers cut off our experience, we can’t heal. We can’t stay safe, intellectual, above it all, comfortable and still heal. Healing is messy and sometimes painful and always vulnerable and we’re never in control. Life knows what experiences we need to heal. We can go with them or resist and stay in our heads.
Owning our power may manifest in our gratitude for every little thing. “Thank you for my breath today.” “Thank you for that driver cutting me off and taking my parking place.” “Thank you for the latest disappointment.” How many times have I heard, “That’s crazy to be thankful for what you don’t like and didn’t choose and don’t want!”
It is. But what’s the alternative? To be angry or hurt and vengeful? To take it personally and hate others? I’ve lived that way and it doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t empower me, and I don’t heal. My life works better when I say, “Yes, thank you, and what’s next?” I can get very angry and very self righteous and very intellectual when I’m hurt. I can demolish another with my analysis and words. But where does it get me? I’m still in the world and so are they and I’ve just contributed a whole lot of pain that didn’t need to be there. All because I was insulted, which is to say, not in control. Control is useful only in circumscribed situations. With God, the soul, eternity, feelings, or relationships, control is a dirty word.
Meditation is practice for life. We practice letting go of our minds, accepting what comes, releasing what we no longer need to hold onto, breathing, trusting, and waiting to be shown the next step. If we can do that for twenty minutes we can do it throughout the day. We practice the relationship we want to have with Life in meditation and then we live it all day. And that’s owning our power.
The Controller helps us keep our lives going by attending to necessary details–keep food in the fridge, cut the grass, balance the bank statement (or at least know pretty much where you stand), pay bills on time, change the sheets regularly, buy clothes on sale, and generally use good judgment in practical matters.
That’s great and we absolutely need the Controller’s input. I hope you have a strong Controller. But as with everything else there is a time and place for the Controller. If we indulge the Controller with too much of our energy we’ll have trouble sleeping, lose our spontaneity, forget how to have fun, and turn our lives into a series of projects to be completed.
The Controller is a subpersonality we develop from our experience growing up. In school we meet certain expectations–arrive on time, keep our desks neat, hand in homework, and sit quietly when the teacher speaks. We restrain our here-to-fore unrestrained natural enthusiasm in deference to the demands of the world around us. We all need to learn that lesson and to give it priority in many parts of our lives–our work, our responsibilities as citizens and neighbors, our conduct with strangers, and our planning for the future. We don’t want to live without a Controller.
However, the Controller is not how we heal. Healing requires vulnerability and an open-ended commitment to be present and to see what happens. We don’t want to use that presence and vulnerability with the tax collector. We give the state its due. But just as we have responsibilities to the outside world we have responsibilities to the inner world, also. “Why,” you ask, “is it not enough to obey the law, live a decent life, and contribute in our own particular way?” Certainly no one will criticize you and you will build a comfortable life for yourself. If you are satisfied with ceasing your questing at that point, OK.
Some of us feel pulled to look more deeply, however. The death of a child thrusts us into an agony we don’t think we can survive. An unexpected turn of events leaves us without the future we had counted on. Or simply living every day pulls us away from the world and into spaces inside which scare us. For whatever reason, we want more. The surface verities don’t satisfy and our heads can’t answer soulful questions. Our churches offer comfort and support but this delving to which we are called is so personal that we must set out alone. It would be easier if we could take the latest best seller with us and we could read about our lives but at some point we are confronted with experiencing our lives. Just experiencing. Not understanding, not controlling, not directing. Simply experiencing. Saying Yes to the moment and experiencing what is at any given second.
At first this exercise may serve to get us through a strained time but eventually it becomes a way of life. And then we don’t identify with the Controller but with the one caught in the current. We don’t know where we are being carried and we don’t need to. We simply say Yes.
On an inner level we practice non-resistance to everything–I won’t fight any feeling which comes up, then acceptance of everything–thank you for this feeling which I don’t like, then trust–I say Yes to this second. Owning our power includes each of these steps. Non-resistance challenges those of us who like to act, who judge and want to correct. But as we accept that life is not a problem to be solved and that our minds (our Controllers) don’t know best, we acknowledge the beauty and wisdom in the patterns of our lives which lead us to heal. Life is for healing through experience. If our Controllers cut off our experience, we can’t heal. We can’t stay safe, intellectual, above it all, comfortable and still heal. Healing is messy and sometimes painful and always vulnerable and we’re never in control. Life knows what experiences we need to heal. We can go with them or resist and stay in our heads.
Owning our power may manifest in our gratitude for every little thing. “Thank you for my breath today.” “Thank you for that driver cutting me off and taking my parking place.” “Thank you for the latest disappointment.” How many times have I heard, “That’s crazy to be thankful for what you don’t like and didn’t choose and don’t want!”
It is. But what’s the alternative? To be angry or hurt and vengeful? To take it personally and hate others? I’ve lived that way and it doesn’t feel good, it doesn’t empower me, and I don’t heal. My life works better when I say, “Yes, thank you, and what’s next?” I can get very angry and very self righteous and very intellectual when I’m hurt. I can demolish another with my analysis and words. But where does it get me? I’m still in the world and so are they and I’ve just contributed a whole lot of pain that didn’t need to be there. All because I was insulted, which is to say, not in control. Control is useful only in circumscribed situations. With God, the soul, eternity, feelings, or relationships, control is a dirty word.
Meditation is practice for life. We practice letting go of our minds, accepting what comes, releasing what we no longer need to hold onto, breathing, trusting, and waiting to be shown the next step. If we can do that for twenty minutes we can do it throughout the day. We practice the relationship we want to have with Life in meditation and then we live it all day. And that’s owning our power.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Anxiety Addiction
Anxiety becomes an addiction when we use it to reassure ourselves that we are doing everything we can to be safe and comfortable. “I can only control what I can” becomes “And I’ll worry about the rest.” Anxiety is a motivator, it gets us to move in response to our thoughts of lack. “If I don’t prepare myself, how will I ever get a good job?” We learn skills and acquire certificates of competency and then we are acceptable. Suddenly the arena is no longer what I do but who and how I am. And life becomes an endless struggle. With each accomplishment, I become more OK. But the anxiety never diminishes. In fact, with each hurdle jumped, it increases. What’s next? How can I make a bigger goal materialize? What do I need to do to increase and prolong my success?
After decades on this treadmill, we tire. We may question our belief in lack. “Does life work because I push it? How come some people receive huge rewards in their early 20s without much effort when I knock myself out and still I’m not satisfied? I’m such a good worker but I can’t get through an invisible ceiling and I’m frustrated and ANGRY.”
If we believe we earn what we receive by the sweat of our brows only, we’ll cry “Unfair” when we don’t win the big prize for which we have worked diligently. Apparently another factor is involved. One that is subtle. One that lives inside our heads. A scrim that our eyes look through but don’t see. We have assumptions about How Life Is and How I Am but we don’t even know what these assumptions are. We have beliefs that severely limit our experience and we don’t know that we are the ones who choose mediocrity for ourselves.
Common wisdom would tell us, “Only a few can be great. Most of us are ordinary.” But if we examine life by its rules and not our mind’s, we notice something different. Our mind values control and hard work and discipline. Life outside us reflects our mind’s life. What I believe to be true in my mind will take form in the world around me. In the Catholic Church I learned to say, “I am not worthy.” I manifested folks who would verbalize the same for me. That felt right. I believed life is a struggle and there is virtue in struggling without reward. Outer circumstances aligned to provide me with opportunities to struggle. As long as I didn’t step back and look at the light I was shining on the situation from my thoughts, I could feel like a virtuous martyr.
But repetitive victim experiences tell me that I am choosing that and somehow benefitting. I’m not struggling for God nor for the polish on my soul but simply to make true my mind’s erroneous belief that I should suffer and struggle. In grade school the good Sisters told me (or did I misunderstand?) that life on earth was for suffering to make up for our sins so that when we die we can go to heaven without delay in purgatory. My former classmates and I now laugh at the scary beliefs we developed from catechism class, but something seeped into the marrow of my bones and I still trip on a too easy acceptance of limitation.
My experience is that when I am “in the flow” doors open. Life welcomes me when I affirm myself. When I recognize Spirit in me and rejoice, Life applauds. When I share myself without comment or fear or need for any response, Life receives me. When I trust, I am given what I need.
Not so when I struggle. Anxious struggling offers my Controller comfort that her belief in limitation is correct because “see how I struggle and still there’s no reward?” But when I depose the Controller, I no longer need anxiety and I can open to experience Life. And really all it takes is being present and a willingness to be vulnerable. Not doing. Definitely not struggling. Just being and breathing and waiting and noticing. No need for anxiety in that! Just trust and acceptance–two qualities no Controller can provide.
After decades on this treadmill, we tire. We may question our belief in lack. “Does life work because I push it? How come some people receive huge rewards in their early 20s without much effort when I knock myself out and still I’m not satisfied? I’m such a good worker but I can’t get through an invisible ceiling and I’m frustrated and ANGRY.”
If we believe we earn what we receive by the sweat of our brows only, we’ll cry “Unfair” when we don’t win the big prize for which we have worked diligently. Apparently another factor is involved. One that is subtle. One that lives inside our heads. A scrim that our eyes look through but don’t see. We have assumptions about How Life Is and How I Am but we don’t even know what these assumptions are. We have beliefs that severely limit our experience and we don’t know that we are the ones who choose mediocrity for ourselves.
Common wisdom would tell us, “Only a few can be great. Most of us are ordinary.” But if we examine life by its rules and not our mind’s, we notice something different. Our mind values control and hard work and discipline. Life outside us reflects our mind’s life. What I believe to be true in my mind will take form in the world around me. In the Catholic Church I learned to say, “I am not worthy.” I manifested folks who would verbalize the same for me. That felt right. I believed life is a struggle and there is virtue in struggling without reward. Outer circumstances aligned to provide me with opportunities to struggle. As long as I didn’t step back and look at the light I was shining on the situation from my thoughts, I could feel like a virtuous martyr.
But repetitive victim experiences tell me that I am choosing that and somehow benefitting. I’m not struggling for God nor for the polish on my soul but simply to make true my mind’s erroneous belief that I should suffer and struggle. In grade school the good Sisters told me (or did I misunderstand?) that life on earth was for suffering to make up for our sins so that when we die we can go to heaven without delay in purgatory. My former classmates and I now laugh at the scary beliefs we developed from catechism class, but something seeped into the marrow of my bones and I still trip on a too easy acceptance of limitation.
My experience is that when I am “in the flow” doors open. Life welcomes me when I affirm myself. When I recognize Spirit in me and rejoice, Life applauds. When I share myself without comment or fear or need for any response, Life receives me. When I trust, I am given what I need.
Not so when I struggle. Anxious struggling offers my Controller comfort that her belief in limitation is correct because “see how I struggle and still there’s no reward?” But when I depose the Controller, I no longer need anxiety and I can open to experience Life. And really all it takes is being present and a willingness to be vulnerable. Not doing. Definitely not struggling. Just being and breathing and waiting and noticing. No need for anxiety in that! Just trust and acceptance–two qualities no Controller can provide.
Monday, April 4, 2011
God's Little Box
Isn’t it funny how we try to be strong and impervious to life’s challenges? We must distance ourselves from our vulnerability (read: feelings) and pretend we can handle it, whatever today’s “it” happens to be. We want to look “together” so we cut off our vulnerability. Is that nuts?! We hate our vulnerability and, yet, that is the only way to God. Our minds with all their intellectualizing don’t need God, our hearts do. It’s only when we are broken that we allow God to show us another way. When we are broken and down on our knees and blinded by our tears and humbled by our failed efforts, we are ready to listen. Finally, we acknowledge we can’t do it on our own. We long for wholeness and peace and we know we can’t effect either by our will. Addiction is a good model for this process. We substitute something—alcohol, drugs, work, exercise, TV, food, success—when we long. We want to fill a hole inside us and we hope these means will suffice. But they never do. And by the time we’re addicted we can’t tolerate the longing. But the longing is our recognition that something essential is missing in our lives. Thus, longing is the first step to knowing God. But how many of us permit ourselves to long? It’s so not cool. But cocaine looks cool and cigarette smoking looks cool and sipping brandy looks cool. Longing for God is not cool. It’s desperate and confusing and humbling. But it’s the essential basic step for all humans to acknowledge that missing piece. We need God but we look for drugs. We want wholeness but we choose division in ourselves. We long but we look outside us for something/someone to satisfy us. We lose something of our fabricated selves to experience wholeness. What is that? It’s not integrity. We lose integrity when we choose a God substitute. On a conscious level we say we want to experience our oneness with God, but unconsciously we fear it. Truly, we can’t handle it--it’s overwhelming and unlimited. Easier to stick with alcohol or work. They don’t completely satisfy but they don’t threaten our integrity, except that they destroy our integrity. Wholeness without God is impossible and wholeness with a strong sense of individuality is inauthentic. When we demand the real thing, when we insist—“Give me your blessing”—we stay true to ourselves. Wrestling with the angel all night to garner a blessing—that is a spiritual experience. We stay true to ourselves, we don’t deny any part of us, we don’t walk away alone, we don’t pretend. We insist on a blessing. Not a reward for specific action but a recognition that we are God. We demand our blessing and we won’t go away without it. And that’s when we let God out of the box. When we take responsibility for acknowledging God in us each second and we allow God to be God in our lives.
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