The simple power of plain speech

I have always loved language, and languages. Words carry power. They really are creative little packets of energy that can cause things to happen. The more I learn about my own words and phrases--and the intentions behind them--the more I understand what I am creating in my life. This is happening slowly, over decades, but I can see it (alleluia). :)

The more I notice the power of speech, the more I want to use it clearly, simply, effectively. This is a good desire for a writer, but it's also more than that. It's a need to manifest what's true--to use words to bring about good for all, as much as possible. To be congruent in feelings and actions--and to be able to speak about it in a framework of language that flows naturally from the essence of the desire and hope. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

This learning about words draws me inward and down--inward into my own heart and mind and spirit and down to the clearest possible denominator of meaning. You and I will be closer when we can speak plainly, truthfully to each other. When we spiral up and out--mostly because of fear of judgment or of being misunderstood--we pad our language, we make it sound high-brow, we work on eloquent turns of phrase.

We "dialogue" instead of "talk." I'd rather laugh, love, fall on my face, and get up and do it all over again--joyfully, sloppily, imperfectly. Maybe we'll laugh together--I hope so. But let's not use our words to create things we don't want or--heaven forbid--separate us. Today Love beckons. Let's accept. :)

A daily guide for Ramadan

Hi everyone,

I just wanted to pass along this link to a gentle site called Existensis.com, now offering daily reflections throughout Ramadan. The author also has made available a downloadable e-book that is very clear and centered. These reflections are for people of all traditions and bring me into a feeling of celebrating spirit in harmony with others throughout the world. Beautiful!

The vital space of doubt

Today is Alfred Lord Tennyson's 200th birthday. Reading about him this morning, I discovered this quote:

There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.

I find beauty in all traditions and practices of faith, but the point Tennyson makes here strikes me as integral to a real, growing, embodied living out of an alive, aware, and owned faith. If we are just parrotting the views of our parents, our tradition, our region, our particular demographic, we are only participating in response to an external framework. We haven't owned it; the living out of our faith is not coming from within us, from a seed of transformation we plant and nurture. In my own life Love has grown greatly through doubt--pushing and prodding, asking "why?" and "why not?", and listening, discerning, and testing over time. For some reason I was willing to risk shaking my fist at the ceiling and yelling at God (literally...I know that's not a pretty picture), and even today continue to risk leaving groupthink, again and again, in spite of the sense of belonging the journey might cost me.

Knowing what I believe and in what and whom I believe and how that belief frames my life has always been important to me...and doubt opens up the vital space for me to explore, push, create, and show up as part of Life's arising. I, for one, need that.

Happy Tennyson's birthday!

How will you see today?

This morning I felt a need for refreshment and I picked up John O'Donohue's Anam Cara, a beautiful, spacious, and deeply kind book of Celtic spirituality. In the chapter where he writes about the senses as being the thresholds of soul, he says

Vision is central to your presence and creativity.

He describes--in a tenderly gentle way--the different kinds of eyes we may use to engage (or not engage) the world:

• The fearful eye, which sees all as threatening;
  
• The greedy eye, which sees everything as something to be possessed;
  
• The judgmental eye, which separates and compares;
  
• The resentful eye, which begrudges others what they have;
  
• The indifferent eye, which holds control and distance;
  
• The inferior eye, which sees everyone else as greater;
  
• The loving eye, to which everything is real.

May we know today that our seeing is a sacred, creative act and that as we look upon the world with love we are blessing it, and it, us. :)

One more today...

Hi again, I'm not sure why this popped into my head today, but I decided to prepare a book I wrote back in 1992 (during the heartbreaking L.A. riots) and post it on Scribd as a free download. I was still a "baby" writer in those days, but it's interesting to me that the thought--on Oneness, the light within, overcoming differences, and a desire to dissolve separation--is the sweet essence of the way I live today. Wonderful to see! If you feel so moved, please take a look and let me know what you think. Namaste. :)
Getting Over the Rainbow

Healing the Space

Hi everyone! I hope you're having a beautiful day in your part of the world. I just posted a new meditation on Scribd called Healing the Space. It is a gentle meditation with a blessing for the physical places we encounter. You can use it anywhere--in your house, in the country, in the forest...wherever it occurs to you. :) Peace.

Healing the Space

Seeing it all

Last night I took my older son to the immediate care clinic in the middle of a severe allergy attack. His eyes were swollen almost shut; he had hives and splotches everywhere; he looked like the losing prizefighter in a 12-round match; and most upsetting of all--he was suffering.

Immediate care centers being what they are, you are asked right away if you consider anything you're experiencing to be life-threatening; and if not, you wait. And wait. And wait. We sat with a dozen other people--all equally discouraged, hurting, upset, and worried--waiting for our turn to see the doctor. After a little more than two hours, we were ushered into a small room where we waited another 30 minutes. By this time, the Benadryl had begun to work and the cold wet towel my son had been holding to his face all evening had helped; the swelling had gone down and what was left was a still splotchy face and neck, bright red eyes, heavy fatigue (due at least in part to the medicine), and stopped-upedness.

The doctor walked in with lots of swirling energy, took a look at my son, noticed his eyes, and said, "looks like pinkeye" all in about 10 seconds. From that misdiagnosis, we worked backward, trying to push toward her the details of living with this allergy (from my view, as the mom, and his view, as the experiencer); what we thought about it; what we wondered; what we hoped.

She wasn't really listening. She adjusted her initial diagnosis a bit--it was an allergy-related conjunctivitis, she decided. But she was completely missing the point. He was suffering He was hoping someone would give him some indication that this suffering could end. He didn't want another drop for his eyes--he wanted this not to happen anymore.

The doctor had walked into the room, summed up the situation based purely on what she saw--which was simply what stood out to her most in that moment--and never listened to the full story in the room or the past or possible future of this story. We were never real whole living beings to her (even though she was friendly enough) and her mind never opened enough to let her heart suggest a couple of things that might have really helped.

I write this hoping that when I am called to make quick judgments--professionally or just in my daily life--that I can remember to take a deep breath and listen and receive what is present, to understand the story that is arising to be heard, before I diagnose the situation and act. There is a soul to be honored. There is a need to be met. And the answer isn't just to prescribe eyedrops to make the red go away--it's a need of the heart, the mind, the spirit.

An earth meditation

I've just returned from a weekend at Grace's House, the solar home on 40 acres beside the Abbey of Gethsemani in New Haven, Kentucky. The house is one of the retreat properties of the Merton Institute's Bethany Spring--nestled between hills, forest, and lake in a perfect, peaceful spot. I created the following earth meditation one night while I was there...these photos don't really capture the awe-inspiring beauty of the land, but they do help you glimpse at least the doorway in to the experience. :)

Let Your Longing Guide You

May the light of your soul guide you

Peace...
peace....
peace....

From John O'Donohue (1954-2008)...may the light of your soul guide you, dear:

May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work
You do with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.
May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal to those
Who work with you and to those who see and receive your work.
May your work never weary you.
May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment, inspiration and excitement.
May you be present in what you do.
May you never become lost in the bland absences.
May the day never burden you.
May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your new day with dreams,
Possibilities and promises.
May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.
May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected.
May your soul calm, console and renew you.

Walking Two Dogs

I just had an interesting object lesson a few minutes ago. For years now, I've had Georgie and Edgar. Georgie is an 8-year-old Newfoundland, and Edgar is an almost 14-year-old Bichon. When I take them outside on their leashes, whether we're just going out to the backyard or going for a walk in the neighborhood, they almost never want to go the same direction. Invariably I am pulled in two directions, or trying to compensate for one sniffing or squatting while the other pulls ahead. Always it seems I am the tension point between two desires--Georgie wants to go one direction, and Edgar the other.

Tonight it occurred to me that it's not fun to be that point of tension, trying to manage everyone else's wishes. How do you decide whose desires are more important? Is it more important to drag Edgar along to keep up with George or to hold George back so Edgar can take his sweet time? Either answer produces inner tension because I'm aware that one dog isn't getting what he or she wants. One has to be pushed somehow to meet the other's need. In a peer-to-peer relationship, they might be able to work that out themselves. But as the one trying to coordinate it all, I am responsible, so I have to choose. And I'm never comfortable because I am busy trying to keep it all balanced and as even as possible.

Of course, unseen in this push-me-pull-you dynamic is my own desires, which are probably acting the loudest of all without me noticing. Am I rushing them both because I've got other things I'd rather be doing? Am I letting them have their sniffy doggy moments, finding out which bunny has been in the yard today? What if I directly admitted how I felt about being pushed and pulled this way and just led them in the way I wanted to according to my desires? Wow, there's an interesting thought. And perhaps a key insight into some other puzzles in my past. LOL!

So tonight, seeing now a thousand stars shining in through the open window, I offer you this little flicker of light. The next time you feel torn between two choices, people, events, or priorities, ask yourself about the unspoken third voice that is waiting to be heard. It's the voice of your own desire that will clearly tell you what feels right for you in the moment. Then you have the choice to act on it or not, but at least you won't be unconsciously yanked along at the end of anybody's leash. :)

Joy within joy

It is a beautiful morning here in Indiana...I am sitting in the sunroom, drinking coffee, listening to the sound of the wind in the trees, watching the patterns of light and shadow move on the floor and wall. Peaceful, relaxed, enjoying.

Sid the cat has another idea. His idea of joy is a good healthy scratch on the head, between the ears. In fact, he'll climb into my lap and do quite a few calisthenics in order to achieve his goal. He flips around, he butts my hand (holding a full mug of coffee) with his head. He looks at me and meows. He's very persistent.

At first I resist. I want to sit quietly and witness all the beauty going on around me. I don't particularly feel like being bullied from my reverie by a three-year-old cat.

And yet, as I watch him persist, a little bud of admiration begins to smile within me. He really is a remarkable cat. And what an honor that he would choose me--choose my lap, choose this moment, need my hands--to help him find his joy. I give up my idea of nonmovement and pet his head, and he pushes his face into my hand, smiling and purring loudly. I have never seen a more appreciative cat. I laugh and continue petting.

I realize after a moment that I am experiencing joy, too. It is not the peaceful, introspective awe kind of joy I was feeling before Sid moved into my lap, but it is a rich, full, connected joy that comes from participating in the joy of another and knowing you had a part in making it possible. It is interesting to me that one kind of joy makes me want to avoid contact (because I will have to leave the quiet spot of wonder I have found), while the other joy draws me into contact (often, perhaps because of my introverted personality, against my own preference). How nice to realize that there is joy along both paths--and the one that is not my natural choice may be even richer for me because it draws me into relationship.

May you experience joy within joy--inwardly and outwardly--today.

Which shoes will you wear?

This morning I walked into the sunroom and noticed (odd how things just pop into your noticing like that) four pairs of my shoes by the back door. Four! The first thing that washed over me was the sheer extravagance of that. Do I really need four pairs of shoes? Three of them were sandals, and one a pair of boots for taking the dogs out in the rain and mud. And what's more, there are other pairs upstairs in my closet. Shoes with heels; shoes without. Fancy shoes, comfortable shoes.

The shoes have different personalities. The ones I'm wearing are made of hemp. Very light, soft, comfortable.

As I slipped my feet into the shoes, I thought of the way in which we put on our attitudes for the day. Will my approach to life be natural, soft, comfortable today? I hope so. May you choose the day you hope to create in much the same way you decided what to put on your feet this morning. It's all the same choice, you know. :)

Song of the body

Mary Oliver's new book of poetry (just made available in paperback) is Red Bird, and this poem is the last one in the volume. But it's beautiful, lifting up a key idea that's been gleaming at the center of my attention for the last few weeks--the tender interplay between body, mind, and spirit. So much of religion seems like it wants to cast off the body and value the soul or spirit; so much of practical life ignores or tunes out the call of spirit; but it's really a both/and--and that is the recipe for joy and peace. I'm learning that, g r a d u a l l y. :) Here's the poem:

Red Bird Explains Himself

Yes, I was the brilliance floating over the snow
and I was the song in the summer leaves, but this was
only the first trick
I had hold of among my other mythologies,
for I also knew obedience: bring sticks to the nest,
food to the young, kisses to my bride.

But don’t stop there, stay with me: listen.

If I was the song that entered your heart
then I was the music of your heart, that you wanted and needed,
and thus wilderness bloomed that, with all its
followers: gardeners, lovers, people who weep
for the death of rivers.

And this was my true task, to be the
music of the body. Do you understand? for truly the body needs
a song, a spirit, a soul. And no less, to make this work,
the soul has need of a body,
and I am both of the earth and I am of the inexplicable
beauty of heaven
where I fly so easily, so welcome, yes,
and this is why I have been sent, to teach this to your heart.

How to weed a garden

It's a beautiful rainy morning here in Indiana...the windows are open in the sunroom as I write this...gentle thunder rolls a few miles away...heaven...

Yesterday the weather was completely different--sunny, hot, with a wonderful spring breeze just when you needed it most. I spent part of the afternoon outside weeding the rose garden, and the following meditation (done in PowerPoint) was the product of the experience, several hours later:

• How to Weed a Garden: A Meditation on Belonging to and Honoring the Earth
  
  
• If you'd rather take a look on Scribd (instead of downloading it to your computer), click here. It won't include the animated features, but you'll still get the idea.

I hope you're having a rich, lovely holiday weekend wherever in this world--or any other world--you are. Namaste. :)

The solid nature of love

This morning early, as I was quietly beginning the day, I heard the thought "love never dies" in my head, and I was curious about it. I know that the world shows us otherwise, with conflict and breakups and people sometimes doing less-than-honorable things to each other. But as I made my bed, I thought about the people I have loved and have been loved by--some continue in my life, and some do not. I thought of my dad (the second anniversary of his death is next Monday), and realized that even though I still miss him, the feeling of love is still there inside--stronger than ever, really--real and solid.

I invite you to take a few quiet moments today to reflect on people, experiences, places, and ideas you have truly loved. Sense where that love for them is in your body, explore it in your being. Find it and know it's there. Maybe you will discover, like I did, that the love truly does remain, whether the recipient of your love is in your daily life right now or not...love is real, love is solid, love grows and remains forever. Like a collection of beautiful pearls--or an indescribably exquisite castle--love builds within us and around us always, never diminishing, never fading.

What a nice thing to know!

This is the day

...when anything and everything is possible. I feel it. What is that loving desire, that baby of an intention, that is taking shape in your heart just now? Turn and open your eyes wide, beloved, and let the image arise...feel it glow and shine within you...and at just the right moment, filled with gratitude, plant it in the soil of your life, knowing that it is for this moment you have come, the dream is yours to realize, and all of creation--this one Great Soul we share--is waiting for it to blossom.

The blessing is so big there's nothing you can say but "Thanks," whispered, with awe.

I am grateful to the earth

by Pablo Neruda, from the poem This Is Where We Live*

I am grateful to the earth
for having waited
for me
when sky and sea came together
like two lips touching;
for that's no small thing, no?--
to have lived
through one solitude to arrive at another,
to feel oneself many things and recover wholeness.

I love all the things there are,
and of all fires
love is the only inexhaustible one;
and that's why I go from life to life,
from guitar to guitar,
and I have no fear
of light or shade,
and almost being earth myself,
I spoon away at infinity.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

* Stavans, Ilan, ed. 2003. The Poetry of Pablo Neruda, 480-481, NY: Farrar, Straus & Giroux.

It's not a secret

Grace is the deepest reality.

The point at which all things meet

A big little thought this morning: Today is a coming together of all roads within your very own soul. All people you have ever known or been, all places you have ever visited or lived or thought about, all experiences you have had and have yet to have, come together in you in perfect harmony. All deeds, acts, smiles, hopes, fears, relationships, experiences, dreams, joys, and sorrows are the unique imprint your soul has made, is making, and will make upon this earth and all beings who are part of this One Soul.

Love your story today, and feel the richness you bring to this very moment. You are the point at which all things meet, and that reality, true for each and all of us, can only bless forever.

The task today

Our task today, I think, is

To load paper in the printer,
straight and uniform,
having tap-tapped it into a perfect white rectangle,
almost feeling the coolness of the gray, two-toned plastic
against the side of our hand
half-see the gleam of the green ready light
silently sipping its juice.
More than half-asleep, we are
lulled by the clocks and rhythms
of modern existence
when suddenly--
shockingly
and with no hope of return
a gust of wind from the forest of Borneo
leaps from the pages
we are lifted into the sway of the trees,
enfolded in a symphony of leaves,
inhaled into the fresh, moist, loamy earth.
We rise rise rise above the canopy to azure blue skies
we eagerly lean toward mountains, the earth's exposed roots
and awake joyfully to the memory
full of moonlight, knowing
that we once were and are
and forever more shall be
free.