Intellect & Emotion

Last night I had a really interesting dream. Two friends who had been living together for a long time were breaking up. One woman followed the other out on the front lawn, yelling at her. She was completely consumed with her upset. At one point she threw something (a  glass something) at the little orange VW bug that apparently belonged to the other woman. The other woman was calm and sad. She was quiet, resolute. She had packed her things and loaded them in the car and was about to drive away from the apartment they'd shared for a long time.

In my dream, I stood at the back of the car (having just helped to load it, I guess), looking on with love and compassion. These women were both apparently my good friends from college. In my dream, I understood that even though there were many hurt feelings right now, we would all remain friends. I wasn't worried. I was even a little amused, because I knew the end of the story.

As I wrote in my journal and reflected on the dream (common theory being that all characters in our dreams are really parts of us), I asked myself where I was the woman heaving the glass vase at the other woman's car. And who was that other woman, calm, sad, quiet, but not operating from emotion?

She was my rational side, my intellect.

I think it's part of the human condition to be living out many influences at the same time. We are pushed and pulled between desire and will; between hope and doubt; between feelings and thoughts. We can intellectualize our experiences, but processing them requires opening to, being honest with, and giving our feelings a voice. And then after they've thrown glass vases at our reasoning, we need to give our intellect a chance to make meaning of the experience--what just happened? What does it mean? How does it enrich and expand the story my life is creating with itself?

I think the part of me standing behind the car (by the engine, in a VW bug, btw), smiling and knowing everything was okay, was my spirit. In spirit there was no argument--there's no division--there's no struggle or shouting on the lawn. The spirit has a vision I can only glimpse fleetingly, in harmonious moments.

And, of course, in my dreams. :)

God as gravity

This morning I was thinking about Oneness, about how it's more than a pleasant concept or some ideal we try to live up to. The idea of Oneness is becoming more real to me the older I get. The mistake of separation--the idea that we're little, alone, and vulnerable--is seeming more obviously a mistaken belief of the ego to me.

I remember years ago trying to imagine a sense of everything being One. The picture in my head was something like sunlight spreading over an open field--how it expands and lights up everything it touches. I thought one basic thing we have in common is that all of us, sooner or later, touch the earth in some way--right now you're sitting on a chair that touches the floor that touches the foundation of your house of office, which touches the earth. We drive in cars or ride in busses with tires that touch the earth. When we walk, run, jog, or bike we touch the earth. Even when we fly, at the start and end of our flight, we are touching the earth (and some would argue that we are still in earth's atmosphere even in the air, so we're still part of the earth.)

So as I experiment with ideas of Oneness, it occurred to me that maybe God is gravity--unseen like that natural force, but giving us such a powerful and constant hug that he holds us on the planet, each and every one of us, every minute. :)

A Moment of Grace

In the Today's Gift email I get from Hazelden, I found the following quote:

"Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied." --Pearl S. Buck

This is one of those ideas that stunned me for a moment because (1) I'd never had this thought in my head before, and (2) because it is so true. I can think back to choices I made in my life that caused me pain (or at least gave me a mess to dig out of later), and I can remember clearly the moment when I was struggling with whether to go forward or choose a different route. Even when I prayed about some of those decisions, I still often made choices that turned out not to be for my good. Turns out that I didn't know it at the time, but I was unclear at my hurting places, and I could easily be swayed into choosing the wrong thing for me. As a friend told me over coffee one morning, "The next time you face something like that, call me--I think even though you were praying about it, you ultimately told yourself what you wanted to hear."

A lot of healing and radical commitment to self-love gradually led me into a place where I could discern whether something was good for me or not. But I love the idea that this moment of grace is built into every choice. God puts it there for us. And we will eventually have the eyes and heart to see it. When you're pivoting on the edge of a decision, look for it. If you can't see it, ask a friend. If it still isn't clear, wait for it. Grace is always present. Sometimes our eyes just need time to adjust to the light.

Readiness

Indiana is poised and waiting. In the last two days, the temperature dropped from 89 degrees in the blazing afternoon to a cool 73. The sky is thick with big gray clouds. The leaves shimmer on the branches, just ready to begin turning.

The river birch tree in our garden has already begun shedding her leaves. Maybe she's more interested in being one of the first of the season than she is in displaying any colorful magnificence. :)

It's one of those moments of heightened awareness when the fullness of summer is all around you. You take a deep breath and look all around. In just a moment--any moment now--everything will begin to change very quickly. The leaves will turn colors and become a carpet on the ground; the sky will clear and become frosty blue. Soon the snow will fly.

But for this moment, the air is big with the abundant life and growth of summer. We have something to celebrate. We are ready. Let the winds of change bring the next awesome vista in this journey.

The Perfect Blessing

I found this wonderful blessing in this month's edition of Yoga Journal:

Lokah Samasta

Sukinoh Bhavantu

May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute to the happiness and freedom for all."

Doesn't that just cover what you would wish for every living being everywhere? If everyone everywhere were happy and free, there would be no war, no hate, no sickness, no hardship, no poverty, no isolation, no rejection of anything God created, ever. It's the ideal of the kingdom of heaven realized within us.

May you be happy and free today, moving in harmony with the limitless Love that created, sustains, and cares for you. :)

The crime of comparison

This morning as I was driving through the misty countryside (the sun was just coming up and lighting the fog hovering over the cornfields--gorgeous!), I thought about the fresh intensity of beauty, perfection, life. This moment is unlike any other. It has its own gift, its own peace, its own perfection. I don't need to compare it with any other moment--when, I muse absently, I was either happier or sadder, more preoccupied or more present, more in tune or more out of sync. This moment is perfect now. I feel joy and appreciation in it. End of story.

The crime of comparison, I think, is that when we line a moment up with another--or compare our accomplishments with another person's, someone's house against another person's house, this car against that one, this talent and that, we overlook the sacredness of both people, places, moments, or events we're comparing. Each has a gift, if we have the open eyes and heart to receive it.

May each of us be open to the holy gift in each and every moment, person, and experience today. :)

Efficiency

My son Cameron is 13 and loves golf. He loves it so much that he played on average three times a week throughout the summer. By the end of the season, he was ready for some better clubs. His score for 18 holes had dropped from 100 to 88. He started watching every golf match he could find on television. He observed the pros. He spent lots of time on the course. It seemed to be the one thing he couldn't get enough of.

I decided that this was enough of a passion that I wanted to invite an expert to give him some feedback, so I contacted the golf pro at the course where Cameron plays. The lesson was interesting and packed with really amazing but subtle information that applied not just to golf but to life. Chuck talked about the importance of taking time, looking clearly, noticing your energy, balancing on your feet. He explained (and demonstrated through some actions Cameron could immediately feel and understand) how the muscles work together to support you in a natural, efficient swing.

He demonstrated how when all these forces are in tune--sight, balance, and motion--the contact with the the ball is natural and fluid, sending it 240 yards straight toward the pin at the end of the farway.

This morning I've been thinking about efficiency. When our forces--mind, emotions, body--are in tune, I think efficiency is dramatically increased in all areas of our life. We move with grace; we respond emotionally to the present moment and then move on through it; we have the energy we need to complete the tasks of our day with joy and appreciation. Efficiency makes things look easy, because everything is in alignment leading up to that point. When the contact--with the ball, the event, the obstacle, or the person--is made, all the harmony of the universe is lined up to support it. :)

Listen

I found this amazing quote by Franz Kafka in a powerful book I'm reading right now called Essential Aurveda: What it is & what it can do for you:

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstacy at your feet."

How wonderful is that?!

I picked up this book because although something I found in an article on Auryvedic eating cured 25 years of chronic headaches for me (no kidding!), I had never really understood Auryvedic principles enough to know how to put balanced meals together. I thought it was complicated. But this book makes it simple, and elegant, and clear. And what's more, the author, Shubhra Krishan, writes about health and beauty in all elements of life--not simply diet (although what we put into our bodies--physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually is very important in terms of encouraging or creating obstacles for health).

Just what we need, when we need it

I am continually surprised to discover that I tend to write about things that I will need later that day. It's curious--the post I wrote yesterday had occurred to me as a flash of an idea when I was writing to my friend. After I posted it, I thought I'd wrapped up the idea and put it out there, and that was that. But at 2:00am this morning it really came in handy. Something startled me awake and then I was suddenly beset by a huge cloud of anxiety--about everything, from my work to my relationships to my house. I was so churned up inside I couldn't get comfortable and tossed and turned. It was so unlike me (I usually sleep soundly and well--especially when the nights are cool enough to have the windows open!) and the fact that it was unusual gave me something else to worry about!

But then I remembered my post from yesterday morning. I noticed instantly that my stomach was tightened into a knot. Even my jaw was tight. I realized that I was fighting imaginary problems in the dark, when I was only partially conscious and not clear-headed enough to refute the worries as I might in the light of day. What I really needed to do was identify the sources of the upset--real or not--and then, one by one, give them to God and leave them for Him to deal with. So I mentally grabbed hold of the first worry, and put it in God's hands with a prayer. There, that felt better. I did it with the next worry, and the next one, and the next one. My jaw relaxed. My breathing slowed and lightened. Soon my stomach had unknotted. Soft and open, remember? By the time I'd handed off all my mostly imaginary worries to God, I was well on my way back to sleep.

Thanks, God, for giving us what we need before we even know we need it. You think of Everything. :)

Who's speaking, God? You or me?

Corresponding with a dear friend the other day, I realized that I use a kind of built-in discernment tool when I'm trying to determine whether a leading is coming from God or from me.

When there's something going on--maybe something that I'm praying for that I really want to happen--and I get that sense of peace about it, I feel that I've "turned the battle" over to God and it's out of my hands. But to really be sure, I check in with how I feel.

If I feel soft and open inside, knowing that I'll trust God no matter what happens, I feel like I'm in tune with God.

If I feel hard and rigid inside, thinking, "this just HAS TO happen!," then I usually think I haven't really turned the situation over to God and I'm still clutching to it and hoping I'll get my way, whether that is God's way or not.

For me, God's thoughts bring a strong sense of peace and everything's okay-ness. They always join, share, include, love. The thoughts I have that do not spring from my connection with God are often about worry, control, or my own protection. That seems really significant to me.

Luckily God will bring those hurting thoughts back to the whole, sooner or later, when I realize what's happening and really turn the issue over once and for all.

The Centering Point

This morning I awoke with such a strong sense of okayness at the core of my being. It's hard to describe, but it's as though I finally found that place within where God is always shining, untouched and uninhibited by the worries of the world or the demands of my day. During yoga, I let the feeling of that sacred space wash over me. In meditation, it was still there. I wrote about it (such as I could, with words and their limits) in my journal. Now, five hours later, it's still with me. Could it be a new piece of understanding that has come to stay? God, I hope so. :)

Bidden or Unbidden

Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit

Called or not called, the god will be there

-inscription on Carl Jung's gravestone


I just finished reading a beautiful and soul-filling book called, "Carl Jung: Wounded Healer of the Soul," by Claire Dunne. Ms. Dunne has somehow, miraculously, painted a vibrant portrait of Jung, who seems so fully alive he still pours off the pages. God's gift of life continues to radiate stronger and stronger. Called or uncalled, how can it be missed? :)

Photo from pg 2 of book, credited to K. Mann Library, NY

Nothing Is Missing

This morning I awoke and heard the pouring rain hitting the roof, the trees, the grass, the flowers, and thought, "Nothing is missing--God has provided everything we need, eternally."

The principle of harmony--that there is an underlying, balanced harmony among everything God created--has been floating around in my awareness for the last several weeks. Like a leaf on the water that floats closer to you and then drifts away again, I feel as though I almost grasp something important about the concept and then, as I reach for it, my excited movement causes a ripple that pushes it just outside my reach. So perhaps time is an important tool to use as I grow into an awareness of harmony. Not because time is real (because I'm increasingly questioning that--time is at least, I'm convinced, expandable), but because by using time in a spiritual way, we open up in patience and trust that the leaf will float all the way up to us at just the right time.

After all, the principle of harmony is at work. :)

Joy

There are those moments in life that are fully rounded, perfect, joyful. This weekend I experienced many of those moments as we watched Christopher graduate from high school. The whole family came together--we laughed, we hugged, we told stories, we relaxed. Thank you SO MUCH, God! :)

Love Means Both/And

Every so often when I'm working in the late afternoon, I turn on the television and listen to Oprah as I work. Yesterday was one of those days. In recent months, Oprah has added an amazing woman, known as Dr. Robin, to her shows that deal with emotional issues, patterns, problems. This woman is a real truth-teller; she's compassionate but doesn't pad anything. She inspires courage in others. She calls people to better care of themselves because they deserve it--not because they've been bad or wrong or incomplete. In my opinion, she's really got it together and serves people lovingly and truthfully.

Yesterday she asked a man on the stage to consider where he first witnessed or experienced the kind of destructive pattern he was now creating in his family life. She said, "A wound like this can only come from early childhood--where did you first see someone treating others this way?" The man at first said, "I don't know--my parents were perfect, the best..." but as Dr. Robin continued to ask the question, he began to cry. He said, "I love my dad, but he did't respect my mom--I love you, Dad--he never listened to anyone, not ever." Dr. Robin said, "He didn't listen to you," and he responded, "He didn't listen to anyone."

Dr. Robin said this was a very deep and important issue--we need to be able to hold those two realities--"I love you and you hurt me"--in the same space. Our tendency is to group people into "good" or "bad" groups. When they do things that affirm, uplift, reassure, or accept us, we think they are "good" and we love them. When they do things that tear us down, reject us, hurt us, or judge us, we think they are "bad" (or worse, that we are the bad ones and deserve it), and we believe we should stay away from them and not love them. So it becomes hard to us to be honest when we are hurt by the people that we have to love for our own sense of identity; we will deny the hurt, put it away, blind ourselves to it--and then later in our lives, unknowingly recreate it so it can be welcomed out and healed. Maybe this is where the whole "us and them" game comes from in life. This may be the root of the conflicts we have in our workplaces, our congregations, our marriages.

This morning in my reflection time, I was thinking about how important it is to be able to speak the truth and say, "I love you and you hurt me. I was hurt by your words, your example, your messages--and I love you and know you were doing the best you could at the time." Telling the truth is the first step. Loving anyway is the second.

Maybe that's what Jesus was getting at when he wept over Jerusalem and when he said, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." He still loved--and loves--us, even now.

Bouncing Back

Last night we had one of the first torrential rains of the season. By that I mean the raindrops were big, pounding, relentless. Some areas of the state received up to 3 inches of rain in just a few hours. The rain fell for the first time on the heads of my poor petunias, geraniums, zinnias. I noticed when I opened the curtains early this morning that the sand cherry bush had a serious droop--she looked like she'd been beaten down through the night by the driving rain. The instant after I noticed her sad look, though, I envisioned the bush springing back, tall, growing, blossoming. It's really a beautiful bush, and a little rain isn't going to change that.

I thought about experiences we have in our lives when we're beaten down by relentless rain, negativity, "bad luck," unhappy circumstances. Our leaves droop; our flowers fall off. Our smiles are gone. We may feel down and out for a little while; but after the rain stops, our leaves will begin to perk back up; the life will flow through our veins; we'll lift our heads. Over time, we may even see that we came back stronger than ever, fnding that the flooding nourished our roots in a way a surface watering couldn't.

Wherever you are today, whether there's rain or sunshine in your life, know that there's a strength inherent in you that is eternal and divine. We always bounce back--not because of anything we do, but because it's the nature of God's hope.

An Alive Stillness

Last night I decided to sleep with the windows and the blinds open because for the first time this season I could hear crickets chirping, and the moonlight on the tree outside my window was lighting up the leaves and windowsill in such a beautiful way. Sometime in the middle of the night, I was startled awake by a sound. An owl was calling out in the woods right behind our house. Twice, three times. An eerie, other-worldly sound. A few minutes later, I heard a plop! which sounded like it happened right beside my head. It was the frog in the pond right outside my window.

When I opened my eyes at 6:00am, my ears were already full of the sounds of the morning. Songbirds--many songbirds--were already greeting the day. A woodpecker knocked on a tree not far away. The frog was making that low chiiiii--rup sound. I sat up and stretched, and thought about the difference between silence--the lack or sound--and stillness, a sense of harmony that occurs in listening, waiting, participating in the moment.

It's interesting to me how all these joyful, life-filled sounds arise and return to stillness. It's the underlying harmony of all things. Stillness is not lack of sound but the full potential of all sound. Our spirits rise and rest in stillness. Our love radiates from stillness. Our laughter erupts from stillness. And our prayers spread and smooth and expand the stillness, rippling it calmly outward in an embrace for the entire world.

Blessings on your day!

Releasing Others

Have you ever had a hurt that keeps bubbling up in your thoughts over and over again? Months after I thought I was done with a painful situation, I found myself still trying to figure it out, get my mind around it, decipher what had happened and understand once and for all how the other person could have acted that way. I realized (maybe because I'm rereading The Power of Now, by Eckhart Tolle) that I was wasting time and energy trying to resolve something that isn't even here, isn't real, isn't happening now--it was over and done with months ago. Why was I spending so many of my present moments stuck on that past event?

As soon as I realized I was spending my time, energy, and focus on something that doesn't exist (and keeping myself stuck in the past at the same time), I also saw that when I focus on the past hurt that way, I am freezing the other person there as well. I am believing them to be that person who hurt me, and while I keep them stuck there, I am not forgiving them. So playing that mental videotape of what they did wrong, how insensitive they were, or how they hurt me only continues to keep us both stuck--and here's the most important point: it's not real. God would have us both be free!

This was a huge insight for me. Immediately I prayed, "In the name of Christ, who is all freedom and joy, I release you, _____, from the image construction I held of you in my mind. I give you absolute freedom. Blessed be!"

I felt such a huge sense of relief and release after praying this that I wanted to share it with you. If you are feeling stuck or keep reliving past moments that hurt you, ask yourself (and your spirit, and God) who it's time to release. Then go out into the sunshine, and enJOY your day! I know I will. :)

[Thank you, God!] :)

Radical Self-Acceptance

I've been doing a lot of healing over the last eight or nine months, working through old beliefs and messages that shape my thinking and my experience in the world. I feel that's part of God's work, helping us dissolve whatever holds us back from radiating more and more light. And I've come to believe that none of the blocks are really outside me--any obstacles I experience have to do with something in my thought system that is ready to be recognized and brought to truth.

Because I'm aware that I've been changing and getting clearer, I was surprised to find that I spent this weekend chained in the basement of "not good enough." I am behind on several writing projects (I'm writing two books at once for Microsoft right now and the deadlines overlap); I am not working as fast or as intensely as I usually do; I am not driving myself with the same unbending discipline that used to keep me up working until 2 or 3am. In other words, the thought, "What's wrong with me?!" was rattling around in my head almost all weekend. And like anything else in life, when you ask the question, you get the answer. So I was receiving a steady stream of negative thoughts that told me exactly what was wrong with me--and none of it was kind, compassionate, or understanding.

I realized finally late last night, after suffering and beating myself up all weekend (while I tried to work--which was double agony), that this situation of being behind on my deadlines was kicking up all the places where I wasn't yet able to be loving with myself. Does my good care of myself depend on me getting my chapter done on the exact day I promised? Does meeting a deadline make me a good person? Of course not. I know all these things--and I thought I'd worked through them. But here again I found myself living out old beliefs--unconsciously hurting myself and pushing myself and chastizing myself, trying to drive myself into that place where I would feel I was "good enough."

What a blessing to witness this attitude in myself! It is old thinking; untrue beliefs; attitudes that don't fit me anymore. I already know that, but like the smell of last night's dinner still lingering in the kitchen, the effects of that thinking still echo around inside me sometimes (usually when I'm under pressure). Recognizing the echos, I can throw open the windows and let the old beliefs out. They don't live here anymore. They aren't part of my new life of radical self-acceptance. The God I know and follow is about mercy, compassion, true love, and forgiveness--not control, judgment, criticism, and continually raising the bar so I have to jump ever higher in hopes of somehow earning that ellusive "unconditional love."

So I'm starting the week released from the prison of self-judgment. That's worth at least one Hallelujah, don't you think?

Present Perfection

Last night we went to hear a band concert at Christopher's school. A variety of different ensembles played the pieces they performed at the state band competition two weekends ago. Some groups--and some players within those groups--seemed more "on" than others. I sat in the darkened auditorium, enjoying the music and the kids, caught up in the swells and patterns (and sometimes squeaks) in the music filling the space.

Suddenly I had an image of the music in my mind, and I thought about all the groups through the years that had played this piece by Grainger, or Bach, or Sousa. These musicians were looking at notes on a page--the same notes dozens (if not hundreds) of ensembles had played before them. Some of those musicians had good days; some not so good; but the music was a constant, always finished, always perfect, always the base of possibility.

I thought how much like that the laws of God operate in our lives. We have the notes--we know it's possible. Creation exists; truth exists; love exists; perfection exists. How open are we to that completeness flowing through us? Some days we are fine instruments, completely in tune, present and willing for the Spirit of God to flow through us. Other days we are worried, or tense; our valves need oiling or our reed is worn out. We are fatigued and fearful. The Spirit through us may sound squeaky or small or miss a few notes (or make an entrance at the wrong time); but the essence of being--the music on the page--is always perfect, always complete, always eagerly awaiting the next musician's loving focus and willing heart.

May we each have a sense of God's perfection within us today, as we yet again sing another day to God. :)