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.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Forgiveness
Do you have trouble forgiving? Does it become a matter of pride? Have you ever said, “I can’t let her get away with that?” Or, “I should teach him a lesson!” Have you thought, I don’t want to forgive because they will think I’m weak? Or maybe you’ve thought, if I forgive it means that what they did was acceptable. The truth is forgiveness means “I choose not to carry resentment any longer. I don’t want to give my time and energy to something/someone who doesn’t deserve it.” Forgiveness is not about the other person. S/he won’t know that I’ve forgiven. It’s totally an inside job--I release my anger because I no longer benefit from holding onto it. I’m ready for the next stage. I need to be me fully. I want to live with integrity and I can’t do that until I forgive. Forgiving opens spaces inside me which my resentment has closed. Forgiveness frees me. The person I forgive never knows that my outlook has changed. But I know. Forgiveness removes all traces of what isn’t really me and what I don’t need to hold onto. Forgiveness cleans up my personal space. I feel different, more myself. After all, my job is to focus on my lifetime, not on anyone else. Forgiveness opens me to meet life this moment and to be fully present. I can forgive if I will. It’s a choice but it requires determination and perhaps re-affirmation of my intent. Why wouldn’t I forgive? It makes my life better. And in the end that’s my responsibility.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Allowing God
At Mass when I was a kid we said, “I am not worthy. I am not worthy. I am not worthy.” Without realizing it, I learned shame and self-hate. I maintained a low level depression throughout much of my youth. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Even today at my lowest moments I hear the words, “I am sorry I’m not good enough.”
Immediately, I catch myself and yell “Stop!” I cannot afford to deny myself. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to God. When I deny myself I deny God. God needs me. This all powerful omniscient being needs me in order to express on earth. What a kick that is!
I had thought that my life was about pleasing God (or at least trying to earn his approval) but that basically He was ill-tempered and irascible. I thought I was meant to work and strive and suffer until I could squeeze a blessing from Him. I used my brain to devise beneficial deeds that would justify a spot in his good graces.
Now I see that thinking and creating worthwhile projects and doing good works is another way to deny God. When I rely upon my head and make decisions based upon my thoughts, I make my brain God. Whatever is the basis for our decisions is our God.
When I want to know God and hear from God, I maintain silence and I wait. I imagine that God lives inside me in my very center as a tiny flame. I can breathe into that center space and pay attention and listen and, thus, I allow God. God is. When I pay attention I experience God. That experience is momentary. I don’t know in advance what I will find. I say, “I am available” and then I wait and I pay attention and I allow.
God moves in me and through me. God is a verb. In the first part of my life God was a judge and a critic. Now God is creativity and passion and involvement. God moves and I don’t know why or how or when. My job is to pay attention and try to keep up. I follow as I’m led. I sit in the back seat and appreciate the perfection of each moment. I’m not driving the car and I don’t know where I’m going. And isn’t that exciting?!
My spiritual life is an adventure. No one has ever lived my life and no one else ever will. There isn’t a right way to be me. Now, in the second half of life, I allow God to peek through and speak through me. I remember that wherever I am, God is. And I allow.
Immediately, I catch myself and yell “Stop!” I cannot afford to deny myself. It’s not fair to me and it’s not fair to God. When I deny myself I deny God. God needs me. This all powerful omniscient being needs me in order to express on earth. What a kick that is!
I had thought that my life was about pleasing God (or at least trying to earn his approval) but that basically He was ill-tempered and irascible. I thought I was meant to work and strive and suffer until I could squeeze a blessing from Him. I used my brain to devise beneficial deeds that would justify a spot in his good graces.
Now I see that thinking and creating worthwhile projects and doing good works is another way to deny God. When I rely upon my head and make decisions based upon my thoughts, I make my brain God. Whatever is the basis for our decisions is our God.
When I want to know God and hear from God, I maintain silence and I wait. I imagine that God lives inside me in my very center as a tiny flame. I can breathe into that center space and pay attention and listen and, thus, I allow God. God is. When I pay attention I experience God. That experience is momentary. I don’t know in advance what I will find. I say, “I am available” and then I wait and I pay attention and I allow.
God moves in me and through me. God is a verb. In the first part of my life God was a judge and a critic. Now God is creativity and passion and involvement. God moves and I don’t know why or how or when. My job is to pay attention and try to keep up. I follow as I’m led. I sit in the back seat and appreciate the perfection of each moment. I’m not driving the car and I don’t know where I’m going. And isn’t that exciting?!
My spiritual life is an adventure. No one has ever lived my life and no one else ever will. There isn’t a right way to be me. Now, in the second half of life, I allow God to peek through and speak through me. I remember that wherever I am, God is. And I allow.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Hate and Fear
We hate what we fear. It’s more comfortable to feel hate than fear because it seems less vulnerable and we’ve learned that being vulnerable is to be avoided.
We don’t always say we hate, though. We’d rather say, “That’s illogical” (and, thus, not to be considered seriously) or “That’s immature” (and, so, unworthy of attention) or “That’s what they asked for” (and I can’t do anything about their poor choices). We separate ourselves from “them,” having already separated ourselves from what we fear inside ourselves -- vulnerability, pain, sorrow, hopelessness.
Isn’t it some form of hate to talk about another disparagingly or to ridicule someone who chooses another path? Probably what we hate most is our own vulnerability so when we see it mirrored in another, we simply direct the hate we already feel about that part of ourselves towards the other person or group. How often are unsophisticated country folks portrayed as yokels? We have felt humiliated by having an older brother or cousin laugh at our confusion so we don’t admit it anymore. But we’ll laugh at others.
A client this week said, “Life wasn’t supposed to be the way it turned out.” Is there a more controlling statement? Implicitly she was declaring, “I know what reality is and how it should look and what is is not that. And I refuse to feel how scared I am right now.” How better to eliminate vulnerability? We so want to be comfortable that we will cut huge areas of ourselves off rather than own them and heal them. When we dissect ourselves, we dissect the reality we are willing to look at and to know both inside of ourselves and around us in other people.
What happens when we don’t reflect and don’t question our unwillingness to own our vulnerability or to experience our feelings but prefer our intellectualizations and deluded bifurcations? When we get too sure that we know “how life should be,” we may forget that we are here to learn. Not to be comfortable. Not to be right. Not to impose our choices on others.
Wisdom leads us to accept what is if our commitment is to grow and to learn. That’s vulnerability in capital letters -- simply accepting situations we find and people we encounter and feelings which arise with no thought or judgment involved, no resistance. Saying “Yes,” and then allowing ourselves to be flooded with whatever experience (inner or outer) life delivers.
Why don’t we make that choice to learn from life rather than trying to manipulate and control? Our fear. Fear is one of our most basic feelings. We’re not born knowing hate -- we learn that. We know fear when we are infants. Fear stays with us even when we push it out of our awareness and use every means we can to avoid recognizing it -- intimidation, intellectualization, denial. And yet accepting our fear and our vulnerability would heal so much discord in our relationships and within ourselves. Not doing anything, just accepting and allowing and breathing.
We don’t always say we hate, though. We’d rather say, “That’s illogical” (and, thus, not to be considered seriously) or “That’s immature” (and, so, unworthy of attention) or “That’s what they asked for” (and I can’t do anything about their poor choices). We separate ourselves from “them,” having already separated ourselves from what we fear inside ourselves -- vulnerability, pain, sorrow, hopelessness.
Isn’t it some form of hate to talk about another disparagingly or to ridicule someone who chooses another path? Probably what we hate most is our own vulnerability so when we see it mirrored in another, we simply direct the hate we already feel about that part of ourselves towards the other person or group. How often are unsophisticated country folks portrayed as yokels? We have felt humiliated by having an older brother or cousin laugh at our confusion so we don’t admit it anymore. But we’ll laugh at others.
A client this week said, “Life wasn’t supposed to be the way it turned out.” Is there a more controlling statement? Implicitly she was declaring, “I know what reality is and how it should look and what is is not that. And I refuse to feel how scared I am right now.” How better to eliminate vulnerability? We so want to be comfortable that we will cut huge areas of ourselves off rather than own them and heal them. When we dissect ourselves, we dissect the reality we are willing to look at and to know both inside of ourselves and around us in other people.
What happens when we don’t reflect and don’t question our unwillingness to own our vulnerability or to experience our feelings but prefer our intellectualizations and deluded bifurcations? When we get too sure that we know “how life should be,” we may forget that we are here to learn. Not to be comfortable. Not to be right. Not to impose our choices on others.
Wisdom leads us to accept what is if our commitment is to grow and to learn. That’s vulnerability in capital letters -- simply accepting situations we find and people we encounter and feelings which arise with no thought or judgment involved, no resistance. Saying “Yes,” and then allowing ourselves to be flooded with whatever experience (inner or outer) life delivers.
Why don’t we make that choice to learn from life rather than trying to manipulate and control? Our fear. Fear is one of our most basic feelings. We’re not born knowing hate -- we learn that. We know fear when we are infants. Fear stays with us even when we push it out of our awareness and use every means we can to avoid recognizing it -- intimidation, intellectualization, denial. And yet accepting our fear and our vulnerability would heal so much discord in our relationships and within ourselves. Not doing anything, just accepting and allowing and breathing.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Our Three Judges
We’re given trials as part of our life journey. An expected good doesn’t materialize. A friendship ends badly. We lose what we thought we’d gain. Surprise disappointments dot our days. What do we do?
For each trial we’re assigned three judges. Our inner Critic has been with us seemingly forever. Characteristically, he responds, “It’s your fault. Just another example of how you are not good enough.” We sigh and hurt and feel ashamed. That’s his job—to shame us and hurt us and leave us further away from our Adult.
The second judge is the Observer we practice when we meditate. The Observer is grounded, has no agenda, and is present to what is at each second. The Observer notices . . . and releases . . . and notices . . . and releases. No matter what is the Observer maintains detachment, never condemning or belittling, just acknowledging.
The third judge is the divine I Am. This judge knows your core is good and deserving of good. Your behavior doesn’t affect this judge’s total unconditional acceptance. Whatever you did in the past is unimportant to this judge for he focuses on the present and the future. He knows you have another choice and chance today and tonight and tomorrow.
His concern is the very long term. He will support you in learning what you need to learn and he doesn’t limit you or pressure you. You may have all the experiences you want. He doesn’t condemn you for your choices or love you less but he does insist that you grow.
The first judge has the loudest voice and the most familiar one. The second judge allows us to look at the first judge without being destroyed. The third judge opens our hearts and allows us to believe in ourselves. Because he knows that we deserve the highest and the best, we can know it, also. We can learn to listen to this judge and to see the world as he sees it and to see ourselves with his gentleness and compassion and trust. Lovingly, he invites us to grow into ourselves.
For each trial we’re assigned three judges. Our inner Critic has been with us seemingly forever. Characteristically, he responds, “It’s your fault. Just another example of how you are not good enough.” We sigh and hurt and feel ashamed. That’s his job—to shame us and hurt us and leave us further away from our Adult.
The second judge is the Observer we practice when we meditate. The Observer is grounded, has no agenda, and is present to what is at each second. The Observer notices . . . and releases . . . and notices . . . and releases. No matter what is the Observer maintains detachment, never condemning or belittling, just acknowledging.
The third judge is the divine I Am. This judge knows your core is good and deserving of good. Your behavior doesn’t affect this judge’s total unconditional acceptance. Whatever you did in the past is unimportant to this judge for he focuses on the present and the future. He knows you have another choice and chance today and tonight and tomorrow.
His concern is the very long term. He will support you in learning what you need to learn and he doesn’t limit you or pressure you. You may have all the experiences you want. He doesn’t condemn you for your choices or love you less but he does insist that you grow.
The first judge has the loudest voice and the most familiar one. The second judge allows us to look at the first judge without being destroyed. The third judge opens our hearts and allows us to believe in ourselves. Because he knows that we deserve the highest and the best, we can know it, also. We can learn to listen to this judge and to see the world as he sees it and to see ourselves with his gentleness and compassion and trust. Lovingly, he invites us to grow into ourselves.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Transcending Limitations
Working in a men’s prison, I reflect on the experience of being incarcerated. The men can’t walk too far in one direction, can’t stand in groups on the yard, can’t watch cable television or research the internet or choose their meals. What they can’t do outnumbers what they can do by about 1000 to 1.
So many of them say they are angry about being in prison but they admit they were angry before they entered prison. They say it frustrates them that they can’t work for pay but admit they didn’t show up for work when they lived “on the streets.” They say that when they are released they will be happy but confess they never have been happy.
No matter what external changes they crave, their inner worlds seem locked up. Locked up by the anger they first felt when they were powerless children who were mercilessly abused. Locked up by their fear of yet another failure when they attempt to read or learn a trade or complete high school. Locked up by their inability to tolerate their own vulnerability which leads to rigidity, unconsciousness, and violent behavior.
These inmates are afraid of being present to themselves. They are afraid of feeling their longing and their hurt and their sadness. They choose hopelessness as a mask to forestall disappointment. The resulting numbness in their hearts can be tolerated.
Is that so different from how many of us middle class folks live? We’re caught on the success treadmill and fear falling off the conveyor belt. We want to function as well as “everyone else” so we don’t know what to do with our desperation and our emotional isolation. Resentments from decades past haunt us. We’re confused. We do what’s “right” but we don’t feel truly alive.
We can pretend these feelings are not there and hope they disappear. We’re willing to sacrifice hope for security. Maybe we’ll never try to paint or to sail or to live in Fiji or to hike through the West. Our dreams seem expendable. We even feel good about choosing practicality.
But what have we lost? Inmates see the walls which limit them. The rest of us can’t discern our inner walls. We feel restless and frustrated and dissatisfied. Passion seems a luxury. But, we repeat, “I’ve done what was expected.”
By our 50’s life demands more. We must embrace our passion and say Yes to what we don’t understand and can’t see. An invisible level of reality tugs incessantly until we deny it at the risk of losing our souls. It’s a solitary jump by definition. Our focus shifts from outer world and intellectual concerns (a career, mortgage, family) to our shadowy inner world. No one else knows what it’s like inside us. We’re surprised by our sudden intolerance of what has always been OK. We must have more and we must have it now. We may not know what more looks like but we know a change is required.
The inmates who make their inner world jumps move into those dark spaces which have dogged them forever and immerse themselves in their overwhelming fear and rage. But they don’t act out. Now they tolerate their feelings and watch them and own them and, thereby, heal them. Just by being present to themselves they move through their limitations. Thus, they find freedom and peace inside themselves. They accept their feelings and don’t shrink from feeling them. They choose happiness because they acknowledge that they have no good reason to be happy so they must generate their own. Meaning becomes more important than comfort. They can’t waste anymore time with resentment. So they say Yes to life in each moment of each day.
Just as with the inmates, by mid-life those of us who are not incarcerated are challenged to find meaning by delving more deeply into ourselves than we ever have. We risk losing comfort but we acknowledge that we have outgrown the lives we have been living and truly we are not comfortable now. For us, too, meaning becomes more important than comfort. And now we find meaning in the moments of our day. We make the mundane sacred by the attention we give it. We practice presence and availability. We, too, say Yes to life in each moment. We realize that we have been limited inside our heads and our hearts by a false way of acting and being that promised safety but has only delivered compromise.
For both the inmates and for us, the struggles are internal. We all need courage and commitment to face our inner world demons and stand firm and breathe and persist. That’s when real freedom and passion manifest.
So many of them say they are angry about being in prison but they admit they were angry before they entered prison. They say it frustrates them that they can’t work for pay but admit they didn’t show up for work when they lived “on the streets.” They say that when they are released they will be happy but confess they never have been happy.
No matter what external changes they crave, their inner worlds seem locked up. Locked up by the anger they first felt when they were powerless children who were mercilessly abused. Locked up by their fear of yet another failure when they attempt to read or learn a trade or complete high school. Locked up by their inability to tolerate their own vulnerability which leads to rigidity, unconsciousness, and violent behavior.
These inmates are afraid of being present to themselves. They are afraid of feeling their longing and their hurt and their sadness. They choose hopelessness as a mask to forestall disappointment. The resulting numbness in their hearts can be tolerated.
Is that so different from how many of us middle class folks live? We’re caught on the success treadmill and fear falling off the conveyor belt. We want to function as well as “everyone else” so we don’t know what to do with our desperation and our emotional isolation. Resentments from decades past haunt us. We’re confused. We do what’s “right” but we don’t feel truly alive.
We can pretend these feelings are not there and hope they disappear. We’re willing to sacrifice hope for security. Maybe we’ll never try to paint or to sail or to live in Fiji or to hike through the West. Our dreams seem expendable. We even feel good about choosing practicality.
But what have we lost? Inmates see the walls which limit them. The rest of us can’t discern our inner walls. We feel restless and frustrated and dissatisfied. Passion seems a luxury. But, we repeat, “I’ve done what was expected.”
By our 50’s life demands more. We must embrace our passion and say Yes to what we don’t understand and can’t see. An invisible level of reality tugs incessantly until we deny it at the risk of losing our souls. It’s a solitary jump by definition. Our focus shifts from outer world and intellectual concerns (a career, mortgage, family) to our shadowy inner world. No one else knows what it’s like inside us. We’re surprised by our sudden intolerance of what has always been OK. We must have more and we must have it now. We may not know what more looks like but we know a change is required.
The inmates who make their inner world jumps move into those dark spaces which have dogged them forever and immerse themselves in their overwhelming fear and rage. But they don’t act out. Now they tolerate their feelings and watch them and own them and, thereby, heal them. Just by being present to themselves they move through their limitations. Thus, they find freedom and peace inside themselves. They accept their feelings and don’t shrink from feeling them. They choose happiness because they acknowledge that they have no good reason to be happy so they must generate their own. Meaning becomes more important than comfort. They can’t waste anymore time with resentment. So they say Yes to life in each moment of each day.
Just as with the inmates, by mid-life those of us who are not incarcerated are challenged to find meaning by delving more deeply into ourselves than we ever have. We risk losing comfort but we acknowledge that we have outgrown the lives we have been living and truly we are not comfortable now. For us, too, meaning becomes more important than comfort. And now we find meaning in the moments of our day. We make the mundane sacred by the attention we give it. We practice presence and availability. We, too, say Yes to life in each moment. We realize that we have been limited inside our heads and our hearts by a false way of acting and being that promised safety but has only delivered compromise.
For both the inmates and for us, the struggles are internal. We all need courage and commitment to face our inner world demons and stand firm and breathe and persist. That’s when real freedom and passion manifest.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Erecting the Barrier
Will you please join me for a few minutes in the presumption that although we say we want a relationship with God, in fact, that is not true. That basically we don’t want to know or be known by God, we don’t want to lose our boundaries and our separateness and our uniqueness, we don’t want to disappear as one drop disappears into the ocean. Our egos are much preferred as our god.
Building our Controller takes time and work and comes out of disappointment or hurt and is designed to insure safety. In the first part of our lives, we all prefer safety. Then we reach our 50's and suddenly safety seems like a coffin and we are not ready for that quite yet. And the balance shifts in the safety vs. the unpredictable-aliveness-that-is-God question.. I have heard many people say that they started their spiritual practice originally out of great pain, with hopes of ending their pain and finding a path that worked to keep them safe from hurt. God was an analegesic. They subscribed to the butterflies and sunshine theory of spirituality: if I am good, life will be easy.
This is a stance most of us outgrow. When we see that we can’t manipulate God into giving us what we want, we may assume an attitude of never-mind-I-will-take-care-of-myself. And by the way, screw you, God, for not being what I wanted. This is a good platform for building a Controller. We can erect an image of ourselves that is hard to see through, that erases vulnerability, and that is generally admired. How long we dally in this stage is related to the success of and the rewards we receive from doing our In Control number. It’s possible to live an entire lifetime here.
For those of us fortunate enough not to be too successful, we move on to, OK, I can’t do it on my own. I need your help, so what do you want? This is said with a sigh and an air of resignation which is not surrender. It is not a total letting go. It’s said on the downward slide when we see that we are losing, hoping to recoup some of our goodies by letting God be the one in front. However, our Controllers haven’t released the strings. We do “spiritual” acts but our hearts are not present. We putter along without experiencing the depth and intensity of our feelings. We’re still relating to ourselves in a superficial way and hoping that that will suffice for God, too. It is only when we have lost all hope, when we know we can’t survive on our own, when we can’t even find the path, much less make our way down it, when we lose hope in everything we have known, when we are shattered beyond apparent repair, that is when we can approach God.
What does God want with our Controllers and our success and our self congratulations? Those are just barriers which keep us from knowing God. When we truly want a relationship with God, when we are finally clear that we can’t live our lives meaningfully and satisfactorily on our own, when we know that there is more we must have but don’t know what it is or how to get it, when we can’t play the game anymore and have released our Controller’s claims to worthiness and safety, only then are we ready to stand naked and undefended, and say, I am here, God.
And then we wait.
For God isn’t far away, but is in the deepest cells of our being. God is deeper in us than our bone marrow and more essential to our being who we are. So after we have spent most of a lifetime getting away from our weakness and vulnerability and sadness, we are thrust right back. Into it.
And that is where God waits for us.
It’s funny, isn’t it, that what we can do for ourselves isn’t of much interest to God. She is not a teacher with rewards for work but a lover who says, Give me your heart. Personally, I would rather do something any day than just be and trust and feel all that ensuing anxiety. Having God say, I am here, let me love you, makes me nuts. I want to say, Yes, I am here, or at least I will be this afternoon after I’ve made some phone calls. And as for loving me, well, I’m still in process, God, and I’m working on this anger thing and I’ve almost got it, so let’s just wait a week and then I will really be ready for your love. Don’t give me too much now. I don’t want to lose my momentum. Not too much joy or prosperity or, heaven forbid, love from another human. I’m not quite ready yet, but I promise you, I’m working on it.
God hears, I’m not available. And accepts that. So we are the ones (entirely) who decide how full a relationship with God we are open to. She is always there. Granted, her terms are harsh and it seems like through the first part of our lives, they get harsher and more demanding. Maybe She tolerated us doing our Controller number out in the world in our 20's and 30's but by our 40's, She is saying, Come on now. What about those parts of you you left behind? You, remember, that sadness from your childhood you never did heal? What about feeling that now?
Because we can’t separate ourselves from any parts of ourselves--uncomfortable feelings, perceived weaknesses, fears, vulnerabilities--without separating ourselves from God. God is not on the altar in a cathedral with a sparkling chandelier. She is in the darkest, most hateful spot in our hearts, waiting, hibernating, but not dying or disappearing. She will be patient for just so long and then she demands that we look where we have avoided looking, that we acknowledge what we have denied and tried to kill inside ourselves. She is not in the shiny facade of the mansion; she is in the closet behind the door, under the clutter, in the dusty corner of the basement.
And that’s where we have to be, also, if we want to be present to God. She waits for us and calls to us softly at first and then increasingly loudly, through our bodies’ aches and our drinking and our tears and our broken relationships. That’s where we find her and where she waits and will always wait. Only when we go back to our messes, can we find God.
God is to be experienced, not talked about. Even though “knowing” is an intellectual word, knowing God is an experience, not an intellect driven endeavor. When we stay in our heads we avoid God and we avoid the deepest parts of ourselves. It is only when we dare to immerse ourselves in our passion and let it carry us that we are open to God. As long as we feel in control, we don’t need God. Allowing ourselves to experience needing God, to know that we are not whole in and of ourselves, is the first step. Realizing that we cannot do what we need to to make our lives complete is terrifying. The further realization that what is required is unknown and out of our grasps is unnerving.
But by the time we have been beaten down so many times and discouraged and totally without hope that we can make things turn out “right,” then surrender doesn’t seem impossible. In fact, it is the only door open. How much more can we hope and try and how long will we bloody our heads against the wall that we are now seeing we have erected? How many heart attacks are enough before we change? How many lost loves before we say, What I need I can’t get from anyone else? What does it take before we are ready to concede that while this ego ride has its moments, it is not a long term satisfying way to live. Only a life based on a strong personal relationship with God offers that and that isn’t something that can be received from outside. It can’t be bought or earned or given in a church. No matter who your teacher is, it doesn’t come from outside. Its strictly an inside job and God awaits. Only not where you want Her to be and not in the way you prefer.
God always chooses what is our least together area, our most unfocused point, and then demands that we live out of that. None of our worldly successes are any help and, in fact, the defenses we have created hinder us in knowing God personally. That is what is required–a commitment to a complete, full, total relationship with God. No holds barred, no escape routes open. Everything is on the line and there is no safety net.
And from that point we say, Your will be done.
And we usually add, But not in this way or not quite yet and don’t let it hurt. Be gentle and I promise I will get it.
But as long as we have that pleading, fearful relationship with God, we’re not ready. Because as our other relationships have matured, so must our relationship with God. We are not pleading and fearful with our friends or our parents or our colleagues or our business partners. We don’t try to manipulate or shield ourselves from other humans. And so must it be with God, also. We stand in front of Her and we can’t impress her and we can’t convince her to love us more or that we are preferable to another human.
We simply stand and we be and we breathe and we wait.
And that’s it. I am here, we say. And we don’t know what to expect and we no longer think of trying to control or limit God.
I am here and I am available. Your will be done.
Building our Controller takes time and work and comes out of disappointment or hurt and is designed to insure safety. In the first part of our lives, we all prefer safety. Then we reach our 50's and suddenly safety seems like a coffin and we are not ready for that quite yet. And the balance shifts in the safety vs. the unpredictable-aliveness-that-is-God question.. I have heard many people say that they started their spiritual practice originally out of great pain, with hopes of ending their pain and finding a path that worked to keep them safe from hurt. God was an analegesic. They subscribed to the butterflies and sunshine theory of spirituality: if I am good, life will be easy.
This is a stance most of us outgrow. When we see that we can’t manipulate God into giving us what we want, we may assume an attitude of never-mind-I-will-take-care-of-myself. And by the way, screw you, God, for not being what I wanted. This is a good platform for building a Controller. We can erect an image of ourselves that is hard to see through, that erases vulnerability, and that is generally admired. How long we dally in this stage is related to the success of and the rewards we receive from doing our In Control number. It’s possible to live an entire lifetime here.
For those of us fortunate enough not to be too successful, we move on to, OK, I can’t do it on my own. I need your help, so what do you want? This is said with a sigh and an air of resignation which is not surrender. It is not a total letting go. It’s said on the downward slide when we see that we are losing, hoping to recoup some of our goodies by letting God be the one in front. However, our Controllers haven’t released the strings. We do “spiritual” acts but our hearts are not present. We putter along without experiencing the depth and intensity of our feelings. We’re still relating to ourselves in a superficial way and hoping that that will suffice for God, too. It is only when we have lost all hope, when we know we can’t survive on our own, when we can’t even find the path, much less make our way down it, when we lose hope in everything we have known, when we are shattered beyond apparent repair, that is when we can approach God.
What does God want with our Controllers and our success and our self congratulations? Those are just barriers which keep us from knowing God. When we truly want a relationship with God, when we are finally clear that we can’t live our lives meaningfully and satisfactorily on our own, when we know that there is more we must have but don’t know what it is or how to get it, when we can’t play the game anymore and have released our Controller’s claims to worthiness and safety, only then are we ready to stand naked and undefended, and say, I am here, God.
And then we wait.
For God isn’t far away, but is in the deepest cells of our being. God is deeper in us than our bone marrow and more essential to our being who we are. So after we have spent most of a lifetime getting away from our weakness and vulnerability and sadness, we are thrust right back. Into it.
And that is where God waits for us.
It’s funny, isn’t it, that what we can do for ourselves isn’t of much interest to God. She is not a teacher with rewards for work but a lover who says, Give me your heart. Personally, I would rather do something any day than just be and trust and feel all that ensuing anxiety. Having God say, I am here, let me love you, makes me nuts. I want to say, Yes, I am here, or at least I will be this afternoon after I’ve made some phone calls. And as for loving me, well, I’m still in process, God, and I’m working on this anger thing and I’ve almost got it, so let’s just wait a week and then I will really be ready for your love. Don’t give me too much now. I don’t want to lose my momentum. Not too much joy or prosperity or, heaven forbid, love from another human. I’m not quite ready yet, but I promise you, I’m working on it.
God hears, I’m not available. And accepts that. So we are the ones (entirely) who decide how full a relationship with God we are open to. She is always there. Granted, her terms are harsh and it seems like through the first part of our lives, they get harsher and more demanding. Maybe She tolerated us doing our Controller number out in the world in our 20's and 30's but by our 40's, She is saying, Come on now. What about those parts of you you left behind? You, remember, that sadness from your childhood you never did heal? What about feeling that now?
Because we can’t separate ourselves from any parts of ourselves--uncomfortable feelings, perceived weaknesses, fears, vulnerabilities--without separating ourselves from God. God is not on the altar in a cathedral with a sparkling chandelier. She is in the darkest, most hateful spot in our hearts, waiting, hibernating, but not dying or disappearing. She will be patient for just so long and then she demands that we look where we have avoided looking, that we acknowledge what we have denied and tried to kill inside ourselves. She is not in the shiny facade of the mansion; she is in the closet behind the door, under the clutter, in the dusty corner of the basement.
And that’s where we have to be, also, if we want to be present to God. She waits for us and calls to us softly at first and then increasingly loudly, through our bodies’ aches and our drinking and our tears and our broken relationships. That’s where we find her and where she waits and will always wait. Only when we go back to our messes, can we find God.
God is to be experienced, not talked about. Even though “knowing” is an intellectual word, knowing God is an experience, not an intellect driven endeavor. When we stay in our heads we avoid God and we avoid the deepest parts of ourselves. It is only when we dare to immerse ourselves in our passion and let it carry us that we are open to God. As long as we feel in control, we don’t need God. Allowing ourselves to experience needing God, to know that we are not whole in and of ourselves, is the first step. Realizing that we cannot do what we need to to make our lives complete is terrifying. The further realization that what is required is unknown and out of our grasps is unnerving.
But by the time we have been beaten down so many times and discouraged and totally without hope that we can make things turn out “right,” then surrender doesn’t seem impossible. In fact, it is the only door open. How much more can we hope and try and how long will we bloody our heads against the wall that we are now seeing we have erected? How many heart attacks are enough before we change? How many lost loves before we say, What I need I can’t get from anyone else? What does it take before we are ready to concede that while this ego ride has its moments, it is not a long term satisfying way to live. Only a life based on a strong personal relationship with God offers that and that isn’t something that can be received from outside. It can’t be bought or earned or given in a church. No matter who your teacher is, it doesn’t come from outside. Its strictly an inside job and God awaits. Only not where you want Her to be and not in the way you prefer.
God always chooses what is our least together area, our most unfocused point, and then demands that we live out of that. None of our worldly successes are any help and, in fact, the defenses we have created hinder us in knowing God personally. That is what is required–a commitment to a complete, full, total relationship with God. No holds barred, no escape routes open. Everything is on the line and there is no safety net.
And from that point we say, Your will be done.
And we usually add, But not in this way or not quite yet and don’t let it hurt. Be gentle and I promise I will get it.
But as long as we have that pleading, fearful relationship with God, we’re not ready. Because as our other relationships have matured, so must our relationship with God. We are not pleading and fearful with our friends or our parents or our colleagues or our business partners. We don’t try to manipulate or shield ourselves from other humans. And so must it be with God, also. We stand in front of Her and we can’t impress her and we can’t convince her to love us more or that we are preferable to another human.
We simply stand and we be and we breathe and we wait.
And that’s it. I am here, we say. And we don’t know what to expect and we no longer think of trying to control or limit God.
I am here and I am available. Your will be done.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Poetic Justice Project
Review: The Poetic Justice Project, a film by Matthew J. Evans
I’m one of the lucky ones--a middle class person. I had a stable home, a crime-free neighborhood, and schools that taught me well. Always there was someone who believed in me. I knew it, and I believed in myself. I never questioned my right to a place in society.
Matthew J. Evans’ film, The Poetic Justice Project, http://www.imdb.com/video/wab/vi2291112729/chronicles the lives of the less fortunate, the “throw away people.” Those highlighted in this film live in families and neighborhoods where criminal activity is a way of life. Their communities are segregated, poor, and without opportunity. No one believes in the young people here. In fact, it is expected that they will go to prison.
And they do.
In prison they find the same rigid societal blocks that they experienced in their neighborhoods. Racism is rigidly enforced. Abuse is abundant and freely administered. Opportunities for education are limited. Upon release, many return to their criminal practices. They haven’t learned to believe in themselves.
Deborah Tobola, an artist/facilitator in the Arts in Corrections Program, has taught incarcerated men to heal themselves through the arts in her program, The Poetic Justice Project http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBzr0nO21K4 . A brilliant playwright, she has penned several insightful and compassionate plays about redemption in the prison system. By seeing the depth of humanity in her inmate/students, she has led them to see themselves and to value themselves.
The Poetic Justice Project focuses on the value of participating in the arts for the rehabilitation for the inmates. In Off the Hook, Ms. Tobola’s latest play, the actors portray themselves for the education of the audience and for their own healing. This play both chronicles the actors’ recovery and sustains it. We view “real life” happening.
Matthew J. Evans is a gifted film maker with an ability to identify and illuminate the human struggle. This powerful documentary poignantly shows us the challenges facing humans who have not been given a solid foundation in childhood and, yet, as adults have committed to live with meaning and purpose. This film inspires each of us to be a better person.
I’m one of the lucky ones--a middle class person. I had a stable home, a crime-free neighborhood, and schools that taught me well. Always there was someone who believed in me. I knew it, and I believed in myself. I never questioned my right to a place in society.
Matthew J. Evans’ film, The Poetic Justice Project, http://www.imdb.com/video/wab/vi2291112729/chronicles the lives of the less fortunate, the “throw away people.” Those highlighted in this film live in families and neighborhoods where criminal activity is a way of life. Their communities are segregated, poor, and without opportunity. No one believes in the young people here. In fact, it is expected that they will go to prison.
And they do.
In prison they find the same rigid societal blocks that they experienced in their neighborhoods. Racism is rigidly enforced. Abuse is abundant and freely administered. Opportunities for education are limited. Upon release, many return to their criminal practices. They haven’t learned to believe in themselves.
Deborah Tobola, an artist/facilitator in the Arts in Corrections Program, has taught incarcerated men to heal themselves through the arts in her program, The Poetic Justice Project http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KBzr0nO21K4 . A brilliant playwright, she has penned several insightful and compassionate plays about redemption in the prison system. By seeing the depth of humanity in her inmate/students, she has led them to see themselves and to value themselves.
The Poetic Justice Project focuses on the value of participating in the arts for the rehabilitation for the inmates. In Off the Hook, Ms. Tobola’s latest play, the actors portray themselves for the education of the audience and for their own healing. This play both chronicles the actors’ recovery and sustains it. We view “real life” happening.
Matthew J. Evans is a gifted film maker with an ability to identify and illuminate the human struggle. This powerful documentary poignantly shows us the challenges facing humans who have not been given a solid foundation in childhood and, yet, as adults have committed to live with meaning and purpose. This film inspires each of us to be a better person.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Critics, Inner and Outer
We all have a Critic living and breathing inside our heads. This figure tells us we’re not OK, we don’t look OK, we don’t act OK, and no one thinks we’re OK. Once in a while we get reinforcement from another person who repeats those statements, sometimes verbatim. That’s eerie when it happens and only proves that, yes, that Critic is finely in tune with external reality.
My own Critic hates me. He’s been with me for as long as I can remember and probably before that. He sits on my chest and makes breathing hard. I feel hopeless and helpless when he’s around. My Controller developed to assuage this relentless Critic. My Controller told me how to do things right (and exactly what right was) in hopes that the Critic would be assuaged and thus convinced to relent with his constant abuse. My Controller gave me no leeway for creativity or joy, just accomplishment and production and work, work, work. The Controller was trying to satisfy the angry Critic by “doing.”
When I work at the prison I see my Critic around me. Some inmates hate me without knowing me. They don’t say or do anything but they communicate their disdain palpably. I just notice them. I see their smoldering resentment and their blocks to receiving. I can’t make a difference with them, just as I can’t with my Critic. My Controller thought she could, but she can only keep me imprisoned in my fear -- doing, doing, doing.
When I have inmates in groups I can’t react to them. I can only observe. As I know them better over time, I see their pain and their fear of their vulnerability and their feelings. These big ferocious guys are children hurting behind their violent masks. They roar and threaten but they do nothing. They are too scared. They fear that they are not enough, just as I have. They can’t tolerate those feelings, though, so they distract with their shouts and their acting out and their threats. They appear intimidating until I notice the silence when I ask about their mothers or the sadness when they speak about their children. They are just like me but their facade looks different.
When I imagine the Adult me, bathed in golden light, powerful and loving, living as I choose to, I see my Critic as an inmate. I look into his soul and see the hurting Child there and then I bathe that Child in golden light. I see that as an Adult I can heal my Child and be there for that Critic/Child to heal him, too. Healing doesn’t come from pleasing the Critic so he will back off. It comes from empowering the Adult to love the Child who hides behind the Critic’s mask. That’s all the Critic is -- a mask to hide vulnerability.
So many years of my life I was intimidated by the mask. By knowing the inmates, I can see the feelings behind the mask. The inmates don’t intimidate me and now my Critic doesn’t, either. I heal my inner wounds by knowing the men who hate me and helping them to heal. They are my gift because they hate me. They don’t give me approval for achievement. They just show me my Critic without apologies. They are there, they are angry, and they are unavailable for relationship. The only way I can relate to them is by acceptance, non-resistance, and detachment. I can’t expect anything from them, including change. I have to accept that and let go. Knowing them demands that I remember that I am valuable in myself and fine just the way I am. It helps me release my Critic.
What a fabulous gift!
My own Critic hates me. He’s been with me for as long as I can remember and probably before that. He sits on my chest and makes breathing hard. I feel hopeless and helpless when he’s around. My Controller developed to assuage this relentless Critic. My Controller told me how to do things right (and exactly what right was) in hopes that the Critic would be assuaged and thus convinced to relent with his constant abuse. My Controller gave me no leeway for creativity or joy, just accomplishment and production and work, work, work. The Controller was trying to satisfy the angry Critic by “doing.”
When I work at the prison I see my Critic around me. Some inmates hate me without knowing me. They don’t say or do anything but they communicate their disdain palpably. I just notice them. I see their smoldering resentment and their blocks to receiving. I can’t make a difference with them, just as I can’t with my Critic. My Controller thought she could, but she can only keep me imprisoned in my fear -- doing, doing, doing.
When I have inmates in groups I can’t react to them. I can only observe. As I know them better over time, I see their pain and their fear of their vulnerability and their feelings. These big ferocious guys are children hurting behind their violent masks. They roar and threaten but they do nothing. They are too scared. They fear that they are not enough, just as I have. They can’t tolerate those feelings, though, so they distract with their shouts and their acting out and their threats. They appear intimidating until I notice the silence when I ask about their mothers or the sadness when they speak about their children. They are just like me but their facade looks different.
When I imagine the Adult me, bathed in golden light, powerful and loving, living as I choose to, I see my Critic as an inmate. I look into his soul and see the hurting Child there and then I bathe that Child in golden light. I see that as an Adult I can heal my Child and be there for that Critic/Child to heal him, too. Healing doesn’t come from pleasing the Critic so he will back off. It comes from empowering the Adult to love the Child who hides behind the Critic’s mask. That’s all the Critic is -- a mask to hide vulnerability.
So many years of my life I was intimidated by the mask. By knowing the inmates, I can see the feelings behind the mask. The inmates don’t intimidate me and now my Critic doesn’t, either. I heal my inner wounds by knowing the men who hate me and helping them to heal. They are my gift because they hate me. They don’t give me approval for achievement. They just show me my Critic without apologies. They are there, they are angry, and they are unavailable for relationship. The only way I can relate to them is by acceptance, non-resistance, and detachment. I can’t expect anything from them, including change. I have to accept that and let go. Knowing them demands that I remember that I am valuable in myself and fine just the way I am. It helps me release my Critic.
What a fabulous gift!
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Teaching Meditation
Teaching meditation always presents a challenge. Two groups I teach--felons in a men’s state prison and educators in primary and advanced levels share similar styles. Both value control which proves to be a major impediment to meditating.
We all develop a Controller to shield us from life’s blows. The Controller relates to a valued image of ourselves we hold in our mind’s eye. The Controller tells us how to be OK. It just requires that we cut off part of ourselves–whatever is unacceptable. The Controller hates vulnerability and tells us not to appear weak or foolish. The felons “give attitude” to intimidate. The educators speak from their intellects about what an “expert” writes. In their own ways these groups avoid being present to themselves. Just being themselves doesn’t seem safe (to the felons) or good enough (to the educators).
And yet that is what meditation is about. We don’t meditate to look good or to impress anyone or to pass time pleasantly. We meditate to experience our own truth at the deepest level of our beings. We meditate to look into the shadows which scare our rational minds but which hold the path to our healing. We meditate to be more sincerely alive than we are if we don’t meditate.
The felons in stress management or anger management or depression management, aka meditation, know what it means when life doesn’t work. By the time they arrive in prison they have encountered the judicial system repeatedly. Most have served multiple terms for various offenses, usually related to drug or alcohol addiction. Now without family support, they believe they are inevitable losers and they hate themselves. They walk through their days trying to balance their despair with a shaky hope (they don’t dare trust) that maybe life could be different. On good days they manage to avoid conflict with others or being overwhelmed by their soul-numbing depression. Other days find them fighting, caught up in a physical struggle to dispel the tension which haunts their hearts.
We talk in class about not taking anything personally. How is that related to stress management, they want to know. So we practice detachment, identifying with the Observer, just noticing what is, not judging or changing, just breathing and experiencing the moment. We look at the Controller messages which say, Don’t let him talk to you that way, or Be a man and defend yourself. We breathe and we notice the messages but we don’t act. We stay in the Observer.
They practice being in their Observers when they encounter other inmates but don’t react to them. They practice owning their power by maintaining their boundaries. This is the only power they have and they assume it by identifying with the Observer.
The educators feel comfortable in their heads. They have learned that there is a right way to do everything and their job is to teach us how to do things right. When it comes to being themselves, they want to know how to do that right. Do I breathe through my nose or my mouth? Do I sit on a cushion and hold my hands like this? They like to focus on details and they give their authority to me to teach them how to be themselves.
We talk about the Controller but they identify with their Controller. Isn’t that how I’m supposed to be? It’s challenging to stay in the Observer and look at the Controller because the educators believe their Controller is a voice of wisdom instead of a defense. The Controller is like wallpaper for them. They take it for granted and don’t easily look behind it. For them intellectual detachment precludes presence to what is this second. They relate to their image of the Controller more than to the momentary truth in their hearts which exists behind their Controller.
The felons need support to stay in the Observer and not act. The educators need support to stay in the Observer and not think. Each group fears simply breathing and being and allowing Life to unfold. Each needs to let go of its chosen identification and to face Life without preconditions or defenses. Each needs to release its hold on the Controller.
Meditation teaches us to say Yes. No Controller is needed for that. Yes to what we don’t know and don’t understand. Yes to what is unpredictable. Yes to this second. Yes. I am. I breathe and I be and I say “ Yes.” And then I do it again.
We all develop a Controller to shield us from life’s blows. The Controller relates to a valued image of ourselves we hold in our mind’s eye. The Controller tells us how to be OK. It just requires that we cut off part of ourselves–whatever is unacceptable. The Controller hates vulnerability and tells us not to appear weak or foolish. The felons “give attitude” to intimidate. The educators speak from their intellects about what an “expert” writes. In their own ways these groups avoid being present to themselves. Just being themselves doesn’t seem safe (to the felons) or good enough (to the educators).
And yet that is what meditation is about. We don’t meditate to look good or to impress anyone or to pass time pleasantly. We meditate to experience our own truth at the deepest level of our beings. We meditate to look into the shadows which scare our rational minds but which hold the path to our healing. We meditate to be more sincerely alive than we are if we don’t meditate.
The felons in stress management or anger management or depression management, aka meditation, know what it means when life doesn’t work. By the time they arrive in prison they have encountered the judicial system repeatedly. Most have served multiple terms for various offenses, usually related to drug or alcohol addiction. Now without family support, they believe they are inevitable losers and they hate themselves. They walk through their days trying to balance their despair with a shaky hope (they don’t dare trust) that maybe life could be different. On good days they manage to avoid conflict with others or being overwhelmed by their soul-numbing depression. Other days find them fighting, caught up in a physical struggle to dispel the tension which haunts their hearts.
We talk in class about not taking anything personally. How is that related to stress management, they want to know. So we practice detachment, identifying with the Observer, just noticing what is, not judging or changing, just breathing and experiencing the moment. We look at the Controller messages which say, Don’t let him talk to you that way, or Be a man and defend yourself. We breathe and we notice the messages but we don’t act. We stay in the Observer.
They practice being in their Observers when they encounter other inmates but don’t react to them. They practice owning their power by maintaining their boundaries. This is the only power they have and they assume it by identifying with the Observer.
The educators feel comfortable in their heads. They have learned that there is a right way to do everything and their job is to teach us how to do things right. When it comes to being themselves, they want to know how to do that right. Do I breathe through my nose or my mouth? Do I sit on a cushion and hold my hands like this? They like to focus on details and they give their authority to me to teach them how to be themselves.
We talk about the Controller but they identify with their Controller. Isn’t that how I’m supposed to be? It’s challenging to stay in the Observer and look at the Controller because the educators believe their Controller is a voice of wisdom instead of a defense. The Controller is like wallpaper for them. They take it for granted and don’t easily look behind it. For them intellectual detachment precludes presence to what is this second. They relate to their image of the Controller more than to the momentary truth in their hearts which exists behind their Controller.
The felons need support to stay in the Observer and not act. The educators need support to stay in the Observer and not think. Each group fears simply breathing and being and allowing Life to unfold. Each needs to let go of its chosen identification and to face Life without preconditions or defenses. Each needs to release its hold on the Controller.
Meditation teaches us to say Yes. No Controller is needed for that. Yes to what we don’t know and don’t understand. Yes to what is unpredictable. Yes to this second. Yes. I am. I breathe and I be and I say “ Yes.” And then I do it again.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Responsibility and response-ability
So much of spiritual attunement is being available. Attunement implies a sensitive attention and readiness. A spiritually attuned life is not one that is planned in advance. It is not one that knows the answers or even the questions. Attunement is a process, a way of being. If the “doing” aspect becomes too important, the attunement is lost. Whether it is doing good works or doing evil deeds or just doing the list of chores the job demands, it is the attitude and the attunement that count. With whom/what is the primary relationship? Is it with the demanding Controller who is most interested in checking off the to-do list? Or is it with the spontaneous daily flow of Life? What are we responding to? Where is our attention directed?
I find that I am easily seduced by my Controller. It is hard for me to believe that God would be satisfied with my working 1-2 hours a day and watching television in the evenings. Certainly, my Controller doesn’t condone that schedule. Not enough suffering or struggle. God does not require struggle. Actually, the fastest route to God is to release all struggle, not to have a position, and to accept whatever is. A simple Thank you, Your will be done suffices.
Why is that so hard for us humans?
My theory is that it is not because we would have to admit that we are not God and accept a submissive position, but that we would have to admit that we are God, that there is no difference between an all powerful supreme Being and the core of ourselves, and that, in fact, what is being asked of us is what we long for already–oneness. What a kettle of fish that is! We act like we are gods and that we want to work our wills and now we hear God saying, OK, You are. Do what you want.
I don’t know about you but that leaves me sputtering. Immediately my Controller intrudes and wants to structure the experience for me–Be perfect, Think before you speak, Be careful! And I stop breathing and become completely self conscious. I think I can hear God giggle in the background.
Accepting our oneness is another letting go, not taking on a new burden. It is not about performance that comes from a belief in separateness but from doing less. Doing as little as possible, actually. Waiting for direction and then acting instead of choreographing our weeks and months. It is not about having a five year plan.
What is this, you say? I am an adult. Any baby can do nothing. I have more to offer than that.
Do you? Unfortunately, God may not be interested. She wants an open heart and an open mind. Do you have that to offer? Are you available to feel any feeling that arises in you without reacting? Are you open to reconsidering your strongly held political beliefs? Would you take that person who irritates you so much to lunch? About that one whom you criticize in your mind, Can you say he and I are one? He shows me myself? Where is the line that is hard for you to cross? At Jesse Helms? Or Jesse Jackson? You are one with each of them.
On the surface the pre- and the trans- of spirituality have some commonalities–a small ego, spontaneous accepted feelings, presence in the moment. But a mature spirituality is based in a state that has developed a strong ego and then moved beyond it. So much transformational writing discusses the ego in pejorative terms, but having a strong ego is essential to the development of a mature spirituality. It is not a virtue to retain one’s innocence past the time when one has been called to be powerful. Innocence is a given. Living adds experience. Refusing experience is refusing to grow into one’s power. Individual power is a maturing and a refinement of the being we are born with. Trying to maintain the purity of a neonate is refusing God. Life demands that we engage. Participating in life soils us. We make mistakes and we cause pain. We acknowledge our responsibility and clean up our behavior. We do our work in therapy and clean out our closets packed with repressed material from our pasts. Each of these steps is essential but not sufficient for a mature spirituality. Responsibility extends to correct behavior, to emotional healing of our inner wounds, and then to the availability to respond to God momentarily from a place of wholeness.
We become increasingly more passive as we learn what living responsively/responsibly entails. Our action is directed and chosen, not compulsive to avoid our fears. We operate from a peaceful reserve which is funded by our daily practices of experiencing oneness (meditation, yoga, visualization, affirmations, prayer, journal writing). We are present to the moment and fully alive. We don’t struggle. Whatever happens we accept and say, Thank you, and we breathe.
That’s all.
I find that I am easily seduced by my Controller. It is hard for me to believe that God would be satisfied with my working 1-2 hours a day and watching television in the evenings. Certainly, my Controller doesn’t condone that schedule. Not enough suffering or struggle. God does not require struggle. Actually, the fastest route to God is to release all struggle, not to have a position, and to accept whatever is. A simple Thank you, Your will be done suffices.
Why is that so hard for us humans?
My theory is that it is not because we would have to admit that we are not God and accept a submissive position, but that we would have to admit that we are God, that there is no difference between an all powerful supreme Being and the core of ourselves, and that, in fact, what is being asked of us is what we long for already–oneness. What a kettle of fish that is! We act like we are gods and that we want to work our wills and now we hear God saying, OK, You are. Do what you want.
I don’t know about you but that leaves me sputtering. Immediately my Controller intrudes and wants to structure the experience for me–Be perfect, Think before you speak, Be careful! And I stop breathing and become completely self conscious. I think I can hear God giggle in the background.
Accepting our oneness is another letting go, not taking on a new burden. It is not about performance that comes from a belief in separateness but from doing less. Doing as little as possible, actually. Waiting for direction and then acting instead of choreographing our weeks and months. It is not about having a five year plan.
What is this, you say? I am an adult. Any baby can do nothing. I have more to offer than that.
Do you? Unfortunately, God may not be interested. She wants an open heart and an open mind. Do you have that to offer? Are you available to feel any feeling that arises in you without reacting? Are you open to reconsidering your strongly held political beliefs? Would you take that person who irritates you so much to lunch? About that one whom you criticize in your mind, Can you say he and I are one? He shows me myself? Where is the line that is hard for you to cross? At Jesse Helms? Or Jesse Jackson? You are one with each of them.
On the surface the pre- and the trans- of spirituality have some commonalities–a small ego, spontaneous accepted feelings, presence in the moment. But a mature spirituality is based in a state that has developed a strong ego and then moved beyond it. So much transformational writing discusses the ego in pejorative terms, but having a strong ego is essential to the development of a mature spirituality. It is not a virtue to retain one’s innocence past the time when one has been called to be powerful. Innocence is a given. Living adds experience. Refusing experience is refusing to grow into one’s power. Individual power is a maturing and a refinement of the being we are born with. Trying to maintain the purity of a neonate is refusing God. Life demands that we engage. Participating in life soils us. We make mistakes and we cause pain. We acknowledge our responsibility and clean up our behavior. We do our work in therapy and clean out our closets packed with repressed material from our pasts. Each of these steps is essential but not sufficient for a mature spirituality. Responsibility extends to correct behavior, to emotional healing of our inner wounds, and then to the availability to respond to God momentarily from a place of wholeness.
We become increasingly more passive as we learn what living responsively/responsibly entails. Our action is directed and chosen, not compulsive to avoid our fears. We operate from a peaceful reserve which is funded by our daily practices of experiencing oneness (meditation, yoga, visualization, affirmations, prayer, journal writing). We are present to the moment and fully alive. We don’t struggle. Whatever happens we accept and say, Thank you, and we breathe.
That’s all.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
God in the Moment
So often we fear vulnerability and want to insure that it never recurs. We might say, “If I were (fill in the blank) then I wouldn’t feel (fill in the blank).” Perhaps it is: “If I were married, I wouldn’t struggle with this deep fear that no one could ever love me.” Or: “If I had money, no one would laugh at me.” Or: “With enough education, I will be as good as everyone else.”
Those thoughts are logical and all that our Controller minds can do to with our feelings, but feelings are to be felt, not managed. It’s terrifying and overwhelmingly painful to feel “I’m not good enough to be loved.” Of course, we want to escape that experience but it is an experience. Experiences exist in the moment. They are not terminal judgments. Feeling afraid of being unlovable is a momentary experience. “This second I am overwhelmed by my fear.” OK--breathe, stay focused on that feeling, and allow.
When we breathe and accept our feelings without struggle or judgment or interference from our Controller minds, they heal and pass. Feelings are just feelings, always in process. Feelings move. They heal and pass naturally unless we interfere in that process by thinking. No matter what is in our feeling realm, if we acknowledge it, feel it, keep breathing, and allow, it will heal and pass.
Why do we fear our vulnerability so much that we block this natural flow? My guess is that it’s because we’re not anchored in that central place of peace which exists absolutely in each of us. At our core we’re one with the greater reality. In our place of peace we know we are protected. We know we always have a home and that whatever we need will be provided. And when we know that, we also know that the feeling of this moment will pass and we will be fine.
It comes down to who or what is your God. Using the word God doesn’t matter. Dogma is irrelevant, structure is only external. Having a peaceful core inside us makes life experience meaningful and, thus, tolerable. The peaceful core offers us an anchor.
Anchoring doesn’t happen from our heads or our thoughts. No one can give you an anchor. An anchor inside develops from the experiences of staying present to yourself no matter what. Whatever feeling, whatever thought, whatever impulse, we stay present to ourselves. We stay focused and open to everything going on in us and we pay attention.
I don’t know of a better way to build self esteem. By practicing presence, we give ourselves more than we can get from another’s adulation. We can’t take in from outside us that kind of solidity. We stay with ourselves no matter what. And we confirm ourselves. By our presence we say, “I know I am worth love” for we are practicing loving ourselves. We treat ourselves gently and, yet, we know every ounce of what it is to be us—the fear and the shakiness and the immaturity—and still we say, “I choose to be on my own side.” What more could we want from anyone?
A peaceful core exists for every human but we have to work to find it. It abides under the struggles and the mind’s activity and the distracting busyness and the compulsivity. That peaceful core is our essence and the only place where we feel satisfied. Efforting, amassing, achieving, competing don’t bring us peace. And yet those are the gods many of us choose. Your god is whatever is the basis for your decisions. Do you make choices you hope will make you look good to others? Do you make choices in favor of denial of your hurt? Do you choose to remain aloof and unknown? That tells you what is your god.
When you make choices from that place of peace at your core, then that is your experience of God. And like all experiences, it is momentary. So God becomes an experience of the moment. Always you have a choice. Do you want to be open to your inner world? Do you want to know your oneness and your perfect center? Do you want to operate from that deep place of peace? Or do you prefer busyness and distraction and appearance? It’s your choice.
Those thoughts are logical and all that our Controller minds can do to with our feelings, but feelings are to be felt, not managed. It’s terrifying and overwhelmingly painful to feel “I’m not good enough to be loved.” Of course, we want to escape that experience but it is an experience. Experiences exist in the moment. They are not terminal judgments. Feeling afraid of being unlovable is a momentary experience. “This second I am overwhelmed by my fear.” OK--breathe, stay focused on that feeling, and allow.
When we breathe and accept our feelings without struggle or judgment or interference from our Controller minds, they heal and pass. Feelings are just feelings, always in process. Feelings move. They heal and pass naturally unless we interfere in that process by thinking. No matter what is in our feeling realm, if we acknowledge it, feel it, keep breathing, and allow, it will heal and pass.
Why do we fear our vulnerability so much that we block this natural flow? My guess is that it’s because we’re not anchored in that central place of peace which exists absolutely in each of us. At our core we’re one with the greater reality. In our place of peace we know we are protected. We know we always have a home and that whatever we need will be provided. And when we know that, we also know that the feeling of this moment will pass and we will be fine.
It comes down to who or what is your God. Using the word God doesn’t matter. Dogma is irrelevant, structure is only external. Having a peaceful core inside us makes life experience meaningful and, thus, tolerable. The peaceful core offers us an anchor.
Anchoring doesn’t happen from our heads or our thoughts. No one can give you an anchor. An anchor inside develops from the experiences of staying present to yourself no matter what. Whatever feeling, whatever thought, whatever impulse, we stay present to ourselves. We stay focused and open to everything going on in us and we pay attention.
I don’t know of a better way to build self esteem. By practicing presence, we give ourselves more than we can get from another’s adulation. We can’t take in from outside us that kind of solidity. We stay with ourselves no matter what. And we confirm ourselves. By our presence we say, “I know I am worth love” for we are practicing loving ourselves. We treat ourselves gently and, yet, we know every ounce of what it is to be us—the fear and the shakiness and the immaturity—and still we say, “I choose to be on my own side.” What more could we want from anyone?
A peaceful core exists for every human but we have to work to find it. It abides under the struggles and the mind’s activity and the distracting busyness and the compulsivity. That peaceful core is our essence and the only place where we feel satisfied. Efforting, amassing, achieving, competing don’t bring us peace. And yet those are the gods many of us choose. Your god is whatever is the basis for your decisions. Do you make choices you hope will make you look good to others? Do you make choices in favor of denial of your hurt? Do you choose to remain aloof and unknown? That tells you what is your god.
When you make choices from that place of peace at your core, then that is your experience of God. And like all experiences, it is momentary. So God becomes an experience of the moment. Always you have a choice. Do you want to be open to your inner world? Do you want to know your oneness and your perfect center? Do you want to operate from that deep place of peace? Or do you prefer busyness and distraction and appearance? It’s your choice.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Presence
Owning our power is the opposite of how it sounds. It isn’t about increasing anything but about letting go. Letting go of the defenses we have unconsciously assumed to get us through life whether that be working hard or avoiding work. Whatever we chose which reduced our anxiety and told us how to proceed, well, now at mid-life we release that. If our Controller told us to be good, now we step back and look at that Controller. So many of the new meditators I meet in the meditation group talk about being ‘good’ and doing what they ‘should.’ One man said his doctor told him to meditate daily. He came in with lots of questions, clearly wanting to meditate the way he does everything else–gathering information from authorities and reasoning his way through.
I like to use meditation as an example of how we do life. Meditation is just being present to the moment. We don’t know what we will experience. We just show up and say “I’m available.” When a new meditator comes to group talking about the latest Wayne Dyer PBS show, I know we have some adjusting to do. I love Wayne Dyer and I watch the PBS installments eagerly. However, at meditation time I want to focus on being present to what is inside me at that second. As long as we stay in our heads looking outward at another, we cannot be present in meditation.
Meditation is life cut small. Whatever we do in meditation we do in life but probably without awareness. In meditation we turn on the spotlight and notice simply what is. If we power our way through life using our minds, that’s what we will see in meditation and that’s great. As long as we don’t identify with our minds. Or maybe it’s not your mind that provided you with a vehicle to motor through the exigencies of the first half of life. Maybe it was your humor or your athletic ability or your appearance or your charisma. Whatever we chose (long ago when we didn’t know we were choosing it) to ease our way has curtailed our aliveness. Whatever we have done, we look at in meditation. We notice the process which by now seems natural.
Controllers do what they do to be right or good or appropriate. But we don’t meditate for any of those reasons. We meditate to be. We just “be” and notice what it is “to be” this second. Fairly simple but what consternation it arouses! Meditation provides us with a snapshot of how we live. And it’s how we live that’s the backdrop for owning our power. So meditation helps us see what is.
The magic part of mid-life (and meditation) is the power of the unconscious to heal. Suddenly (it seems) something inside us brings us to experiences which release any tension we’ve maintained. And if we’ve lived listening to our Controllers we’ve probably stored a lot of tension over the years. So we meditate which is to say to Life, “I’m available to be healed. I don’t need to hold onto the shield my Controller has provided. I’m ready to see Life for what it is. More importantly I’m ready to experience Life without padding to reduce its shock.” In meditation we say “Yes, I’m available this second. And this second. And this second.” And that is what owning our power is about.
Meditation certainly isn’t the only way to effect this shift. It’s just an easy way to notice it. Owning our power comes down to not using our defenses, not structuring our experience, not closing off parts of ourselves, just being present to receive. Because when we get out of the way, we notice that Life has its own guidance for us and it’s not what our minds have concocted. Owning our power is saying “Yes” to Life. Not “Yes, I think that’s a god idea so I’ll try it for a day.” Owning our power is assuming a totally different relationship to Life.
In mid-life we move an additional step and say, “My primary relationship is with my inner world and I will trust its guidance no matter what. I won’t put stipulations on the guidance I receive. I won’t say, Now remember, Life, I don’t want to be homeless and I don’t want to be uncomfortable and please make sure retirement is pleasant.” No. Owning our power is a complete letting go. It’s saying, “Yes, I am available.” And saying that again every day.
I like to use meditation as an example of how we do life. Meditation is just being present to the moment. We don’t know what we will experience. We just show up and say “I’m available.” When a new meditator comes to group talking about the latest Wayne Dyer PBS show, I know we have some adjusting to do. I love Wayne Dyer and I watch the PBS installments eagerly. However, at meditation time I want to focus on being present to what is inside me at that second. As long as we stay in our heads looking outward at another, we cannot be present in meditation.
Meditation is life cut small. Whatever we do in meditation we do in life but probably without awareness. In meditation we turn on the spotlight and notice simply what is. If we power our way through life using our minds, that’s what we will see in meditation and that’s great. As long as we don’t identify with our minds. Or maybe it’s not your mind that provided you with a vehicle to motor through the exigencies of the first half of life. Maybe it was your humor or your athletic ability or your appearance or your charisma. Whatever we chose (long ago when we didn’t know we were choosing it) to ease our way has curtailed our aliveness. Whatever we have done, we look at in meditation. We notice the process which by now seems natural.
Controllers do what they do to be right or good or appropriate. But we don’t meditate for any of those reasons. We meditate to be. We just “be” and notice what it is “to be” this second. Fairly simple but what consternation it arouses! Meditation provides us with a snapshot of how we live. And it’s how we live that’s the backdrop for owning our power. So meditation helps us see what is.
The magic part of mid-life (and meditation) is the power of the unconscious to heal. Suddenly (it seems) something inside us brings us to experiences which release any tension we’ve maintained. And if we’ve lived listening to our Controllers we’ve probably stored a lot of tension over the years. So we meditate which is to say to Life, “I’m available to be healed. I don’t need to hold onto the shield my Controller has provided. I’m ready to see Life for what it is. More importantly I’m ready to experience Life without padding to reduce its shock.” In meditation we say “Yes, I’m available this second. And this second. And this second.” And that is what owning our power is about.
Meditation certainly isn’t the only way to effect this shift. It’s just an easy way to notice it. Owning our power comes down to not using our defenses, not structuring our experience, not closing off parts of ourselves, just being present to receive. Because when we get out of the way, we notice that Life has its own guidance for us and it’s not what our minds have concocted. Owning our power is saying “Yes” to Life. Not “Yes, I think that’s a god idea so I’ll try it for a day.” Owning our power is assuming a totally different relationship to Life.
In mid-life we move an additional step and say, “My primary relationship is with my inner world and I will trust its guidance no matter what. I won’t put stipulations on the guidance I receive. I won’t say, Now remember, Life, I don’t want to be homeless and I don’t want to be uncomfortable and please make sure retirement is pleasant.” No. Owning our power is a complete letting go. It’s saying, “Yes, I am available.” And saying that again every day.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Just Do It
We’ve heard about surrender and trust and perhaps those words sound appealing if somewhat unsettling. You may roll the thought around in your head and debate the advantages of each side. But at some point it isn’t an intellectual decision anymore. When you just can’t convince yourself to put one foot in front of the other in the same way you’ve always done it, when the moments of your life are so precious that even if you are terrified it’s preferable to being comfortably numb, something shifts in your heart and you know you must commit.
Then you are ready.
And you jump.
Into what--you can’t imagine. But you haven’t felt this much yourself in a long time so you know it’s exactly the right thing to do.
You consult that voice inside you with every step you take. You practice partnership-- being silent and listening and receiving and only then responding and moving and then being silent again. You notice how the moments of your day go, how some doors present themselves and open and others slam shut. How the phone rings when you are emotionally available or the mail that has been delayed arrives when you resolve a conflict. You know when you’ve closed your heart by the stony cold emptiness you feel. Your intuition becomes more valuable than your thoughts.
For me this step of partnership--acknowledging God’s presence in my life daily-- is facilitated by journal writing and meditating. In both these ways I create a space and I receive. With a partnership there is always dialogue. Most of us are better at speaking than listening, so we practice listening and receiving. We finely tune our receivers. It’s a matter of attention. Attending to the subtleties and nuances both inside us and around us. Noticing patterns in what happens to us. Finding consistency in the day when you can’t get the lid off the jar or the window open and the battery in your car has died. Noticing that what happens to you reflects what is happening inside you, that there is a one-to-one correlation between the inside and the outside.
At some point in this process of trust and surrender and attunement, you will hear from your Controller. This figure inside you was created to limit your vulnerability and insure your safety in the world by using logic and practicality. She urges you to follow normally accepted ways of operating. Your Controller is the one who says to you, ‘Use your head.’ Or, ‘Don’t expect too much.’ Or even, ‘What will the neighbors/relatives/co-workers say?’ Your Controller tells you to listen to your reason and the outside world and not to your intuition and your feelings.
Your Controller is concerned with fitting in with others and being accepted by them so, of course, when you make this leap into the unknown her anxiety skyrockets. That’s a sign that you have realigned your allegiance. She will tell you that it’s not reasonable or realistic to live by following your intuition. Logically speaking in the short term, she may be right.
In the eternal scheme of things, however, it is not realistic to live any way other than by aligning with God (Your Higher Power, the Universe). You know who will prevail in the end so the winning side is clear. If you want to fool around in the first part of your life and try your hand at creating an ego and an empire, that’s fine. But once you walk through your 40s and 50s, you may not be content with such mundane concerns. You have learned how to master daily life and have received the rewards and . . . so what? It’s fine but it isn’t enough. This leap into the unknown engages your passion and your trust. This is the only way of living your life that allows you to feel completely alive. It is only with the acknowledgment of the Divine in our consciousness which shows in our everyday activities that we experience the wholeness which we know in the marrow of our bones is our birthright. It is the only satisfying and, yes, reasonable way to live.
So, without understanding what we are committing to, we commit to the process of trust and surrender. The process becomes all important, not the outcome or the appearance. We are not doing this to earn something or to get somewhere. We align with the deepest part of ourselves for wholeness and unity. We know we are not living our lives completely and fully by just staying in our heads and being successful and nice and respectable. It is only by allowing the God essence in ourselves to guide us that we are truly living in integrity.
Being a partner with God is simple. It demands only that we listen, receive, and say, ‘Yes.’ Nothing complicated there. It is only our fear that blocks us. It is not feeling our fear that is the problem but it is not feeling fear (which truly is present) and pretending it’s good judgment we’re using. Our Controllers are so adept at rationalizing and seeming Adult that sometimes it is hard to see the fear behind the Controller’s words. It is always feeling some feeling directly and responsibly and completely that the Controller wants to avoid. She uses good reasons to not be present to herself and, thus, to God.
If you need to avoid anything inside yourself, you are avoiding God. God is present in the ugliness inside you and in your hate and greed and immaturity and hurt and selfishness and shame. The Controller is in your self righteousness and apparent togetherness and your political power. Your Controller, who pushes you to participate in the social order, is not God. Your Controller may lead you to organize the church bazaar which is praiseworthy, but your Controller is not doing God’s work.
It is fine and often laudable to do good works. It is valuable to go to church. But neither of these necessarily comes from the depths of who you are. Churches encourage character development. Nothing wrong with that and it contributes to the community and culture proceeding smoothly. Religion structures our freedom and points us in a direction which may be good for us but it offers us an external referent. It gives us the rules and assumes the authority. Again, there is nothing wrong with that at a certain point in our lives. Before we learn to know our own inner authority, the conscience the church provides keeps us in line.
Being active in the church may come from our Controllers who prefer focusing on behavior rather than the open-endedness of consciousness and oneness with God and momentary attunement. It is easy to ‘do.’ It is defined and time limited. But to ‘be,’ well, that’s another story. Being/consciousness doesn’t end. It doesn’t cease when we sleep or when we’re silent or even when we die. It is ongoing, constantly evolving. And it is our job to continue this refinement of our own consciousness that permits the experience of greater and greater oneness with God.
For, really, that is all there is. God is. We are expressions of God. We use the first part of our lives to enhance our separateness. We develop strong egos and good reputations. In our 40s, 50s, and beyond, we release our striving and realize that the struggle itself is the problem.
So, we choose to just be. We be and we breathe and we wait.
Then you are ready.
And you jump.
Into what--you can’t imagine. But you haven’t felt this much yourself in a long time so you know it’s exactly the right thing to do.
You consult that voice inside you with every step you take. You practice partnership-- being silent and listening and receiving and only then responding and moving and then being silent again. You notice how the moments of your day go, how some doors present themselves and open and others slam shut. How the phone rings when you are emotionally available or the mail that has been delayed arrives when you resolve a conflict. You know when you’ve closed your heart by the stony cold emptiness you feel. Your intuition becomes more valuable than your thoughts.
For me this step of partnership--acknowledging God’s presence in my life daily-- is facilitated by journal writing and meditating. In both these ways I create a space and I receive. With a partnership there is always dialogue. Most of us are better at speaking than listening, so we practice listening and receiving. We finely tune our receivers. It’s a matter of attention. Attending to the subtleties and nuances both inside us and around us. Noticing patterns in what happens to us. Finding consistency in the day when you can’t get the lid off the jar or the window open and the battery in your car has died. Noticing that what happens to you reflects what is happening inside you, that there is a one-to-one correlation between the inside and the outside.
At some point in this process of trust and surrender and attunement, you will hear from your Controller. This figure inside you was created to limit your vulnerability and insure your safety in the world by using logic and practicality. She urges you to follow normally accepted ways of operating. Your Controller is the one who says to you, ‘Use your head.’ Or, ‘Don’t expect too much.’ Or even, ‘What will the neighbors/relatives/co-workers say?’ Your Controller tells you to listen to your reason and the outside world and not to your intuition and your feelings.
Your Controller is concerned with fitting in with others and being accepted by them so, of course, when you make this leap into the unknown her anxiety skyrockets. That’s a sign that you have realigned your allegiance. She will tell you that it’s not reasonable or realistic to live by following your intuition. Logically speaking in the short term, she may be right.
In the eternal scheme of things, however, it is not realistic to live any way other than by aligning with God (Your Higher Power, the Universe). You know who will prevail in the end so the winning side is clear. If you want to fool around in the first part of your life and try your hand at creating an ego and an empire, that’s fine. But once you walk through your 40s and 50s, you may not be content with such mundane concerns. You have learned how to master daily life and have received the rewards and . . . so what? It’s fine but it isn’t enough. This leap into the unknown engages your passion and your trust. This is the only way of living your life that allows you to feel completely alive. It is only with the acknowledgment of the Divine in our consciousness which shows in our everyday activities that we experience the wholeness which we know in the marrow of our bones is our birthright. It is the only satisfying and, yes, reasonable way to live.
So, without understanding what we are committing to, we commit to the process of trust and surrender. The process becomes all important, not the outcome or the appearance. We are not doing this to earn something or to get somewhere. We align with the deepest part of ourselves for wholeness and unity. We know we are not living our lives completely and fully by just staying in our heads and being successful and nice and respectable. It is only by allowing the God essence in ourselves to guide us that we are truly living in integrity.
Being a partner with God is simple. It demands only that we listen, receive, and say, ‘Yes.’ Nothing complicated there. It is only our fear that blocks us. It is not feeling our fear that is the problem but it is not feeling fear (which truly is present) and pretending it’s good judgment we’re using. Our Controllers are so adept at rationalizing and seeming Adult that sometimes it is hard to see the fear behind the Controller’s words. It is always feeling some feeling directly and responsibly and completely that the Controller wants to avoid. She uses good reasons to not be present to herself and, thus, to God.
If you need to avoid anything inside yourself, you are avoiding God. God is present in the ugliness inside you and in your hate and greed and immaturity and hurt and selfishness and shame. The Controller is in your self righteousness and apparent togetherness and your political power. Your Controller, who pushes you to participate in the social order, is not God. Your Controller may lead you to organize the church bazaar which is praiseworthy, but your Controller is not doing God’s work.
It is fine and often laudable to do good works. It is valuable to go to church. But neither of these necessarily comes from the depths of who you are. Churches encourage character development. Nothing wrong with that and it contributes to the community and culture proceeding smoothly. Religion structures our freedom and points us in a direction which may be good for us but it offers us an external referent. It gives us the rules and assumes the authority. Again, there is nothing wrong with that at a certain point in our lives. Before we learn to know our own inner authority, the conscience the church provides keeps us in line.
Being active in the church may come from our Controllers who prefer focusing on behavior rather than the open-endedness of consciousness and oneness with God and momentary attunement. It is easy to ‘do.’ It is defined and time limited. But to ‘be,’ well, that’s another story. Being/consciousness doesn’t end. It doesn’t cease when we sleep or when we’re silent or even when we die. It is ongoing, constantly evolving. And it is our job to continue this refinement of our own consciousness that permits the experience of greater and greater oneness with God.
For, really, that is all there is. God is. We are expressions of God. We use the first part of our lives to enhance our separateness. We develop strong egos and good reputations. In our 40s, 50s, and beyond, we release our striving and realize that the struggle itself is the problem.
So, we choose to just be. We be and we breathe and we wait.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Self Acceptance
We each have a Hero in us. Our Hero is the best and the noblest we can be. Our Hero emerges after we have healed our childhood wounds and after we have moved past our habitual defenses (drinking, eating, compulsive busyness, endless chatter, blaming). Then we spend time in the stillness at our core. The Hero tints the light that lives at our center and expresses our individuality.
Self-acceptance is the hallmark of the Hero. We accept ourselves not because we are impressed with our achievements and not because we approve of the person we’ve become. We accept ourselves because that’s our job. We stay on our own side no matter what. When we succeed and when we fall short, we are our own best friend. When we embarrass ourselves publicly or choose poorly and incur severe consequences, our response is always, “I’m here for you and with you.”
Lack of self-acceptance shows when we lack self-discipline, when we demand excessive time and attention from others, when someone else’s opinion can devastate us, when we criticize another, or when we tolerate disrespect. Not everyone will know us or appreciate us. We accept others as we accept ourselves; we allow them their opinions and their preferences. We don’t need anyone to be like us or to like us. And we support others in living their own lives with or without us.
Our Hero never disparages us but always whispers through us, “I am a winner.” The Hero lives in us deeper than our minds or our personalities. The Hero isn’t based on behavior but on self-love. And that self-love is a given. No matter what we do, we practice commitment to ourselves. We apologize when we err, but we never condemn ourselves. We always progress and we can always choose again. Through our Hero we learn and we grow and we say Yes to the expression of Life that we are.
The Hero in us watches and wonders and celebrates Life. And practices gratitude for everything.
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