For each of us, our joy is made up of a multitude of subtle and sublime aspects of our being, unique to us, yet universal as well, for we all are capable of joy. Joy is transcendant, mysterious and powerful, running deep and reaching far. If you would like to tune your frequency to joy and know the magic of this tuning, you must explore the potential for joy that is within you. In the posts that follow, I will trace the contours of joy's form and feeling. Colour the space thus created with your own innate knowing and feel joy grow within you.
Let us begin with enjoyment.
My father's old Oxford Concise Dictionary gives one definition of joy as 'exultation of spirit' and that is the definition that comes closest to what I mean when I speak or write of joy. Joy is not happiness; it is deeper and richer in its meaning than that. But continued happiness and contentment often leads to a state of joy. I think of happiness as a response to some situation or circumstance and joy as a more permanent state of being. Happiness is a response to the world around us. Joy is a frequency state that informs the world around us.
Enjoyment is ongoing, through moments in time as we interact with the world around us in ways that fill us with enthusiasm. Think of something that you love to do, something that when you are doing it, makes time seem to disappear. Gardening is that for me. Cooking is sometimes that for me. Writing is always that for me. Always. And it doesn't matter whether it is 'going well' or not. It doesn't matter if it is easy or not. That is why it is not equated with happiness. I am happy when my writing is going well, but I am in the state of joy whenever I am writing, whether it is going well or not.
Think of something that, when you do it, you forget yourself, because you become so involved in what you are doing. So we say that we enjoy music, or baseball, or driving. Now recall the feeling that is in you when you are doing that. Recall the feeling. It will be in your body, in your consciousness, in your being. That is true enjoyment. It comes close to bliss, for me. Time has no meaning, except that it can press us out of that enjoyment and into doing something else, something that we feel we have to do. Self has no meaning - we forget ourselves. When we are doing that, we are totally in the Now, engrossed in our endeavour.
For me, gardening is not work, even though for some other people, it probably is work. You bend and pick up and carry and dig and cut and clean. That could easily seem like work. But to me, it is not work. Similarly, when I am clearing the forest of tripping hazards and dead wood that clutter my trails, it's very taxing physically, but to me it is not work; it is joy. Going to a party feels like work to me. All that standing around and making small talk with people feels like work. To many people, that probably feels like play, or even like joy. For each of us, our joy is our own.
It's not important for you to understand what other people enjoy; it's important for you to understand what you enjoy. What lights you up? What fills you with enthusiasm? My dad's dictionary gives this definition of enthusiasm: 'possession by a god,' or 'supernatural inspiration.' That's pretty close to the exultation of spirit that I mean when I use the word 'joy.' When we feel enthusiastic about something, we are literally enlightened, filled with light and love and joy to think of that wonderful thing. What is that thing for you?
What I love about being in the world, in a world with seven billion people, is that every single one of those people has something that they are enthusiastic about, something that lights them up and fills them with joy. Whatever that thing is for you, as long as it harms no other, nor takes from others what they believe to be their own, go and do that thing, pursue that thing, enjoy that thing. It might be stamp collecting, bug watching, gold-digging or diapering your infant child. Whatever it is, be it a life-long passion or a passing enthusiasm in the Now, fill your spirit with the exultation of immersion in that activity or pursuit.
It doesn't have to be something that you do for your whole life. I have loved plants and flowers always. That seems to be a life-long passion for me. But I used to create weavings to hang on the wall and I would gladly immerse myself in the creation of one of these weavings for hours and hours. I was very enthusiastic about this. After creating woven wall-hangings for a number of years, I moved on to other things. As a student, your enthusiasm might be to explore ideas and apply them to your own experience. As you move on into another phase of your life, your enthusiasm might come when you start your own business or develop some new program with the understanding and skills that you acquired as a student.
When you do this thing, this thing that you are so enthusiastic about doing that you completely forget about time when you are doing it, it doesn't matter what other people think about it or whether the world around you validates it or not. It is yours. Find this thing that fills your consciousness and allow yourself to enjoy it thoroughly. You don't have to be good at it, you just have to enjoy doing it, thinking about doing it and remembering doing it. Familiarize yourself with the feeling of it. That is the feeling of joy. It isn't love and it isn't ease. It isn't happiness, although it can easily bring happiness. It's deeper than that. It's enjoyment. Get to know it, so that you can recall it and use it whenever you decide to tune your frequency to joy.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Nothing to Fear
Imagine having nothing to fear. Imagine having no regrets, no feelings of shame or guilt. What a relief that would be! What a clear space in which to experience the world!
I find myself coming closer and closer to that. Indeed, it is becoming familiar ground to me, a garden of peace and joy where I enjoy all that grows, no matter the season.
There is no way out, but through. Fear must be felt and met. Shame and guilt must also be faced and faced with great courage. You can do this, as I have done this. It is worth every moment that you spend facing these troubles. Once faced, they quietly take their leave. Once they have been fully seen, witnessed and heard, once they have said all that they have to say to you, they have no further reason to trouble you. They dissolve, disappear, and leave you clean, clear and free.
I believe that shame and guilt stem from fear. We fear that we are not, cannot be, loved. We fear that we are not worthy. We fear that we are too tainted, too much at fault, to receive the acceptance and validation, not to mention the affirmation of ourselves, that we need.
Only we can deliver ourselves from the fear that is in us. No one else can do this. Not now, not later. No one else can do this for us. Only we can provide for ourselves the validation, the acceptance and the affirmation of ourselves that we need. No one else can do this for us. Any validation, security, love or acceptance that comes from outside of us, unless it also comes from within us, will be seen by us as a lie, a trap, or a desperate illusion on our part. And, unbelieving in our own strength, our own goodness, our own worth, we will pick at it and demand of it until, no matter how loving the person who has given it to us, they will tire of trying to convince us of our worthiness, our loveliness, our own resources, and will begin to echo back to us our own fearful beliefs about ourselves.
Yes. I've seen it happen. I've felt it within me.
The only way out is through. The only way through is on your own, with all the courage and integrity that you can muster.
There is a process, a way, that I have used to do this in the past. I find that I have little need of it now. My garden is a peaceful place, and I have it with me wherever I am, for it is self-generated and self-sustaining. That is true peace. That is true security. That is true love. And that is the only validation of self that will ever be enough for you; it is the validation of yourself by yourself.
The process that I have used is a simple one. Go to where you can be alone, all alone, for a time. It might be an hour or two that you will need for this. I doubt it will be more than that. Sit or walk alone and ask yourself the questions that need to be asked. Be the wise and loving friend or counsellor that you have always wished you had. Be that for yourself. Ask the questions that need to be asked with the compassion and love that you would give to your own beloved child. Pretend that you are parent to that child, and yet, know that you are the child as well.
The questions are not difficult to find: What are you afraid of? What is the worst that could happen? What would that look like? Feel like? What would you do? Would you die? Are you afraid to die? Why?
Do you feel guilty? Why do you feel guilty? Do you feel worthy of forgiveness? Why did you do that thing that you feel so guilty about? If your friend came to you and told you that he had done that, what would you say to him?
This is the work of clearing. It is the work of self-knowledge, self-acceptance, self-forgiveness, self-appreciation and self-love. It is necessary work. It is yours and yours alone. And for each person whom you know and care about, they also have this work to do, when they are ready, when they are able to do it. And only by doing this work with the self, for the self, can we clear a space for the divine frequency of joy to flow into our consciousness and bring light to our world.
Imagine knowing no fear, only peace. Imagine knowing no shame. only self-knowledge and self-acceptance. Imagine the joy that we can experience, the love that we can share, when we are clear of all of this fear and loathing.
I find myself coming closer and closer to that. Indeed, it is becoming familiar ground to me, a garden of peace and joy where I enjoy all that grows, no matter the season.
There is no way out, but through. Fear must be felt and met. Shame and guilt must also be faced and faced with great courage. You can do this, as I have done this. It is worth every moment that you spend facing these troubles. Once faced, they quietly take their leave. Once they have been fully seen, witnessed and heard, once they have said all that they have to say to you, they have no further reason to trouble you. They dissolve, disappear, and leave you clean, clear and free.
I believe that shame and guilt stem from fear. We fear that we are not, cannot be, loved. We fear that we are not worthy. We fear that we are too tainted, too much at fault, to receive the acceptance and validation, not to mention the affirmation of ourselves, that we need.
Only we can deliver ourselves from the fear that is in us. No one else can do this. Not now, not later. No one else can do this for us. Only we can provide for ourselves the validation, the acceptance and the affirmation of ourselves that we need. No one else can do this for us. Any validation, security, love or acceptance that comes from outside of us, unless it also comes from within us, will be seen by us as a lie, a trap, or a desperate illusion on our part. And, unbelieving in our own strength, our own goodness, our own worth, we will pick at it and demand of it until, no matter how loving the person who has given it to us, they will tire of trying to convince us of our worthiness, our loveliness, our own resources, and will begin to echo back to us our own fearful beliefs about ourselves.
Yes. I've seen it happen. I've felt it within me.
The only way out is through. The only way through is on your own, with all the courage and integrity that you can muster.
There is a process, a way, that I have used to do this in the past. I find that I have little need of it now. My garden is a peaceful place, and I have it with me wherever I am, for it is self-generated and self-sustaining. That is true peace. That is true security. That is true love. And that is the only validation of self that will ever be enough for you; it is the validation of yourself by yourself.
The process that I have used is a simple one. Go to where you can be alone, all alone, for a time. It might be an hour or two that you will need for this. I doubt it will be more than that. Sit or walk alone and ask yourself the questions that need to be asked. Be the wise and loving friend or counsellor that you have always wished you had. Be that for yourself. Ask the questions that need to be asked with the compassion and love that you would give to your own beloved child. Pretend that you are parent to that child, and yet, know that you are the child as well.
The questions are not difficult to find: What are you afraid of? What is the worst that could happen? What would that look like? Feel like? What would you do? Would you die? Are you afraid to die? Why?
Do you feel guilty? Why do you feel guilty? Do you feel worthy of forgiveness? Why did you do that thing that you feel so guilty about? If your friend came to you and told you that he had done that, what would you say to him?
This is the work of clearing. It is the work of self-knowledge, self-acceptance, self-forgiveness, self-appreciation and self-love. It is necessary work. It is yours and yours alone. And for each person whom you know and care about, they also have this work to do, when they are ready, when they are able to do it. And only by doing this work with the self, for the self, can we clear a space for the divine frequency of joy to flow into our consciousness and bring light to our world.
Imagine knowing no fear, only peace. Imagine knowing no shame. only self-knowledge and self-acceptance. Imagine the joy that we can experience, the love that we can share, when we are clear of all of this fear and loathing.
Monday, August 29, 2011
From Depression to Joy
Yes, that's right. I'm bringing up all of the scary monsters in our closets and under our beds these days. Don't worry. I'll soon be speaking of brighter things.
The truth is that many of us have known depression. Many of us know it still. And there's no use pretending that it's not there - a seemingly formidable opponent, something that blocks joy, smothers love, fuels fear.
I want you to know that I have direct, personal experience with depression. I have been depressed myself. Over many years I would feel the depression washing through my body, my consciousness. I would despair, and fear it, for I knew what it could do. I knew its power. My family has a history of depression. My younger brother, Christopher, died trying to rid himself of a terrible despair from which he was not able to escape while he lived. Other members of my family continue to struggle with the hopelessness of it even now. Brave Christopher tried talk therapy, drug therapy and even electro-shock therapy. He felt trapped by it, engulfed in it and smothered to the point that he could not go on. Many of us have felt something very similar to that. Many of us have contemplated ending our lives to escape the chilling, numbing despair.
I do not take depression lightly. I do not demonize it either. I think that we label almost any sadness, now, as depression. The world is filled with darkness, even as its light shines; we are allowed to feel sad about how things are in the world, in our lives, in ourselves. One of the reasons why I write about pain, grief, depression and other dark and terrible things is because I do not believe that we can truly avoid them. They are the darkness that outlines the light. They are as much a part of our world as are our happiness, our gladness, our hope and our joy. And if we pretend that they are not there, we deny a part of ourselves. We cannot do that and hope to come to our truth, our full centered being in the world. We have to bring all that we are with us into the frequency of joy. There's no other way than to bring ourselves whole into this new light.
I'm going to tell you what I have done with depression. You can decide for yourself what you will do, if you feel it within you sometimes.
I never took medication for my depression. I was afraid of the medications, of their side effects. I wanted to deal with my depression myself. I stumbled along for years with it. I came to understand just how much exercise could help me to manage it. Depression is chemical. I could feel it in my body. Exercise helped to mitigate the heaviness of the depression. Just going outside for a walk around the block helped. The more exercise I could manage to bring myself to, the better I would feel in my body, even as I felt the depression there still.
Ultimately, I was afraid of the depression. Terribly afraid. Especially after Christopher's death, I was afraid. I would feel it coming, note the tell-tale signs. It was like watching the approach of some terrible and implacable enemy.
I decided to face my fear. That is the first thing that we need to do with depression. We need to decide whether or not we are going to be filled with fear of it. The fear is a very real potential for us.
Depression terrified me. I chose to face it. And in order to face the depression, I had to choose not to be afraid of it. I knew what it could do. It could do to me what it had done to my brother. It could take my life.
But I decided that I couldn't live a life of fear. I just couldn't. So I faced it. And I'll tell you something: the instant that you decide to face a fear, it gets smaller and less powerful. It's pretty wonderful the way that works. One minute it's this huge and horrible thing, and the next minute it's manageable. It's still there, but it's the same size that you are - it's just something you're feeling - a part of your experience of being in the world.
Once I had faced the fear of the depression, I was able to actually sit with the depression itself and face it. I already knew it very well. I knew how it felt, how long it lasted for me, and how exercise helped a bit. But I had never really sat with it before. I had never just been with it without being in some kind of resistance to it. It was scary, but it wasn't worse than anything else I'd ever faced, including Christopher's death. I decided that I wasn't going to try to get away from it; I was just going to let it be there and I was going to listen to it. I was going to hear whatever it was that the depression had to say to me. What's the worst that it could say? "You are a big fat loser and your life is a joke and has no meaning and you would be better off dead..." Well, if it said that to me, I would have a choice of being miserable about it, or saying, "Okay," or deciding to change my life. Anyway, that isn't what it said.
It said, "I am here. I am this. I am with you. I am what you are right now." That's all it said. That big, bad, scary depression just said that to me. I waited for it to say something else, something worse. It didn't. It just said, "I am strong in you right now." And I felt it. I didn't run away from it, to the television or food or friends, or drugs or alcohol. I just sat there and breathed in and out, and felt it and said, "Okay. That is what I am feeling right now. That is what is in me." And it wasn't so bad. I could breathe. I could choose things. I could choose to go outside, to move, to feel. And when I faced it, spent time with it, not afraid, not trying to get away, I learned to accept it and to accept my own life, my own truth about myself. I cried with the strength of it in me. I'm not going to tell you that it wasn't strong. But it just needed that acceptance from me and all of its implacability, all of its fierce, sharp strength, seemed to just flow out of it and into the world. And I was free. There is no way out, but through. I went through it and came out much stronger and more aware because of it. And I truly believe that if I can do that, so can you. I don't know if Christopher could have done that. I think perhaps he could have. I know that medically speaking, his depression was very severe.
Depression deafens us to the joy that lives within us, that waits, like autumn's seeds wait for spring. Depression seems to defeat us because it fills us with the feeling of defeat. I believe that we just need to sit with that feeling, not to fear it, not to run from it. It won't end us. It won't swallow us whole. It will give us the experience of defeat, of despair, of hopelessness. That's a colour that we can then know and understand. It's a dark colour, but no darker than some others. When we fight it and fear it, we give it strength beyond its own. When we face it and come, over time, to an acceptance of the feelings that it engenders in us, we lessen its impact, soften its lines and bit and bit we allow ourselves to hear once again that sweet song of joy that has been hidden from us.
Once I had faced the depression that filled me and faced it squarely, it never returned. It has been years now since I have felt it. That does not mean that I haven't felt sad. I have felt sad many times. But there is a difference. I know the colour of depression. I know what it means to be depressed. So many of us know. But when we are able to be with it in acceptance and to stand in our truth, on the solid ground of our being what we are, what we truly are in the world, then it cannot do us any harm. And as we breathe in and out with it, not trying to get away from it, just being, it fades and eases and slowly moves away. And then we are free of it, but only because we've faced it fully. Then we are free, free to love, to laugh and feel joy.
The truth is that many of us have known depression. Many of us know it still. And there's no use pretending that it's not there - a seemingly formidable opponent, something that blocks joy, smothers love, fuels fear.
I want you to know that I have direct, personal experience with depression. I have been depressed myself. Over many years I would feel the depression washing through my body, my consciousness. I would despair, and fear it, for I knew what it could do. I knew its power. My family has a history of depression. My younger brother, Christopher, died trying to rid himself of a terrible despair from which he was not able to escape while he lived. Other members of my family continue to struggle with the hopelessness of it even now. Brave Christopher tried talk therapy, drug therapy and even electro-shock therapy. He felt trapped by it, engulfed in it and smothered to the point that he could not go on. Many of us have felt something very similar to that. Many of us have contemplated ending our lives to escape the chilling, numbing despair.
I do not take depression lightly. I do not demonize it either. I think that we label almost any sadness, now, as depression. The world is filled with darkness, even as its light shines; we are allowed to feel sad about how things are in the world, in our lives, in ourselves. One of the reasons why I write about pain, grief, depression and other dark and terrible things is because I do not believe that we can truly avoid them. They are the darkness that outlines the light. They are as much a part of our world as are our happiness, our gladness, our hope and our joy. And if we pretend that they are not there, we deny a part of ourselves. We cannot do that and hope to come to our truth, our full centered being in the world. We have to bring all that we are with us into the frequency of joy. There's no other way than to bring ourselves whole into this new light.
I'm going to tell you what I have done with depression. You can decide for yourself what you will do, if you feel it within you sometimes.
I never took medication for my depression. I was afraid of the medications, of their side effects. I wanted to deal with my depression myself. I stumbled along for years with it. I came to understand just how much exercise could help me to manage it. Depression is chemical. I could feel it in my body. Exercise helped to mitigate the heaviness of the depression. Just going outside for a walk around the block helped. The more exercise I could manage to bring myself to, the better I would feel in my body, even as I felt the depression there still.
Ultimately, I was afraid of the depression. Terribly afraid. Especially after Christopher's death, I was afraid. I would feel it coming, note the tell-tale signs. It was like watching the approach of some terrible and implacable enemy.
I decided to face my fear. That is the first thing that we need to do with depression. We need to decide whether or not we are going to be filled with fear of it. The fear is a very real potential for us.
Depression terrified me. I chose to face it. And in order to face the depression, I had to choose not to be afraid of it. I knew what it could do. It could do to me what it had done to my brother. It could take my life.
But I decided that I couldn't live a life of fear. I just couldn't. So I faced it. And I'll tell you something: the instant that you decide to face a fear, it gets smaller and less powerful. It's pretty wonderful the way that works. One minute it's this huge and horrible thing, and the next minute it's manageable. It's still there, but it's the same size that you are - it's just something you're feeling - a part of your experience of being in the world.
Once I had faced the fear of the depression, I was able to actually sit with the depression itself and face it. I already knew it very well. I knew how it felt, how long it lasted for me, and how exercise helped a bit. But I had never really sat with it before. I had never just been with it without being in some kind of resistance to it. It was scary, but it wasn't worse than anything else I'd ever faced, including Christopher's death. I decided that I wasn't going to try to get away from it; I was just going to let it be there and I was going to listen to it. I was going to hear whatever it was that the depression had to say to me. What's the worst that it could say? "You are a big fat loser and your life is a joke and has no meaning and you would be better off dead..." Well, if it said that to me, I would have a choice of being miserable about it, or saying, "Okay," or deciding to change my life. Anyway, that isn't what it said.
It said, "I am here. I am this. I am with you. I am what you are right now." That's all it said. That big, bad, scary depression just said that to me. I waited for it to say something else, something worse. It didn't. It just said, "I am strong in you right now." And I felt it. I didn't run away from it, to the television or food or friends, or drugs or alcohol. I just sat there and breathed in and out, and felt it and said, "Okay. That is what I am feeling right now. That is what is in me." And it wasn't so bad. I could breathe. I could choose things. I could choose to go outside, to move, to feel. And when I faced it, spent time with it, not afraid, not trying to get away, I learned to accept it and to accept my own life, my own truth about myself. I cried with the strength of it in me. I'm not going to tell you that it wasn't strong. But it just needed that acceptance from me and all of its implacability, all of its fierce, sharp strength, seemed to just flow out of it and into the world. And I was free. There is no way out, but through. I went through it and came out much stronger and more aware because of it. And I truly believe that if I can do that, so can you. I don't know if Christopher could have done that. I think perhaps he could have. I know that medically speaking, his depression was very severe.
Depression deafens us to the joy that lives within us, that waits, like autumn's seeds wait for spring. Depression seems to defeat us because it fills us with the feeling of defeat. I believe that we just need to sit with that feeling, not to fear it, not to run from it. It won't end us. It won't swallow us whole. It will give us the experience of defeat, of despair, of hopelessness. That's a colour that we can then know and understand. It's a dark colour, but no darker than some others. When we fight it and fear it, we give it strength beyond its own. When we face it and come, over time, to an acceptance of the feelings that it engenders in us, we lessen its impact, soften its lines and bit and bit we allow ourselves to hear once again that sweet song of joy that has been hidden from us.
Once I had faced the depression that filled me and faced it squarely, it never returned. It has been years now since I have felt it. That does not mean that I haven't felt sad. I have felt sad many times. But there is a difference. I know the colour of depression. I know what it means to be depressed. So many of us know. But when we are able to be with it in acceptance and to stand in our truth, on the solid ground of our being what we are, what we truly are in the world, then it cannot do us any harm. And as we breathe in and out with it, not trying to get away from it, just being, it fades and eases and slowly moves away. And then we are free of it, but only because we've faced it fully. Then we are free, free to love, to laugh and feel joy.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Pain
I find that no one talks about it in spiritual circles. No one mentions it. It seems that we treat pain as if it were a small thing, but it is not a small thing. It sometimes seems that we treat pain as if it were a shameful thing, as if to say that if we were really so spiritually enlightened, we wouldn't experience pain, or the exigencies of our pain wouldn't keep us from experiencing unconditional love and joy.
The reality is that many of us experience pain, sometimes severe, sometimes chronic and continuous and it looms large in our consciousness at times. This is not shameful; it is a part of our experience of being in the world.
I don't have a lot to say about it, but I will say this. When we convince ourselves that pain is best ignored and pretend that it's all okay, we do ourselves a disservice. I believe that we do better when we acknowledge the pain and feel it, not to try to enjoy it, but to bring ourselves once again into that acceptance of our experience in the moment.
We can practice dissolving all resistance to it. I've done that and been surprised by the results; it's an exercise that has taught me a great deal about my response to pain and the choices I have with regards to it. Yet every now and then I just give up and take a mega-dose of pain killing acetaminophen. And sometimes, if the pain has been too strong for too long, I break down and cry. That doesn't make me weak and it doesn't make me less spiritually enlightened than anybody else. It just makes me human.
We are consciousness that is divine and infinitely loving. Yet let us remember that we are consciousness embodied and that sometimes our bodies experience pain. Pain then fills our consciousness more or less. Breathing deeply and slowly helps immeasurably with this. Acceptance and the dissolving of resistance to the pain is a practice that offers great benefits. The pain is lessened when we relax our bodies out of the instinctive tension brought on by the pain and our consciousness is expanded by our practice of dissolving all resistance to this most personal of problems. When we center ourselves in our hearts and breathe deeply, we can actually come to a full acceptance of the pain. This too is of our being in the world, and our being in the world is a sacred thing.
That's all I wanted to say, really. I just don't like to completely ignore such a powerful experience, especially since I am so well acquainted with it!
The reality is that many of us experience pain, sometimes severe, sometimes chronic and continuous and it looms large in our consciousness at times. This is not shameful; it is a part of our experience of being in the world.
I don't have a lot to say about it, but I will say this. When we convince ourselves that pain is best ignored and pretend that it's all okay, we do ourselves a disservice. I believe that we do better when we acknowledge the pain and feel it, not to try to enjoy it, but to bring ourselves once again into that acceptance of our experience in the moment.
We can practice dissolving all resistance to it. I've done that and been surprised by the results; it's an exercise that has taught me a great deal about my response to pain and the choices I have with regards to it. Yet every now and then I just give up and take a mega-dose of pain killing acetaminophen. And sometimes, if the pain has been too strong for too long, I break down and cry. That doesn't make me weak and it doesn't make me less spiritually enlightened than anybody else. It just makes me human.
We are consciousness that is divine and infinitely loving. Yet let us remember that we are consciousness embodied and that sometimes our bodies experience pain. Pain then fills our consciousness more or less. Breathing deeply and slowly helps immeasurably with this. Acceptance and the dissolving of resistance to the pain is a practice that offers great benefits. The pain is lessened when we relax our bodies out of the instinctive tension brought on by the pain and our consciousness is expanded by our practice of dissolving all resistance to this most personal of problems. When we center ourselves in our hearts and breathe deeply, we can actually come to a full acceptance of the pain. This too is of our being in the world, and our being in the world is a sacred thing.
That's all I wanted to say, really. I just don't like to completely ignore such a powerful experience, especially since I am so well acquainted with it!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Death, Illness and Endings
When we hear that a loved one is seriously ill, terminally ill or dying, we tend to wrap ourselves in a sort of armour so that we can cope with it. We might be better served by wrapping ourselves in compassion, for all of our fears about death and dying come into us at such times. Illness and dying are not wrong, not bad and not untimely. Every person who is going through something like that has, at the deepest level of the soul-self, chosen to go through it. It is an integral part of living, this dying. It is an integral part of being, this illness, disability and death.
I've lost three close members of my family, one to physical illness, one to mental illness and one to a sudden and totally unforeseen death. I have communicated with all three afterward, and I have heard and felt them from beyond the grave, or what some call 'the gateway to larger life.' I contend that death is much harder on those left to grieve than it is on those who pass through and go beyond. We might as well envy them their newfound freedom from the aches and pains that seem to be a part of what it means to be in the world.
When a loved one is very ill or dying, it is giving them a great gift to be in acceptance of their experience, in quiet compassion. They are allowed to be ill. They are allowed to be dying. Often we become quite dramatic and demanding in our own grief at the prospect of losing them, or faced with the challenge of watching them suffer. They know that our overwhelming emotions are a sign of how much we love them, but we can let them know that we love them and at the same time, let them go through whatever they are going through without having to worry about how we feel about it.
Doing this takes courage. If you choose to have such courage, you will have it. When our loved one does pass over, we can let them know, in our hearts, that we accept their passing. We can give them leave to go.
We may have a loved one who is very old or very ill and is close to death, but terribly afraid of it. Many people are afraid of death, for many reasons. I knew an old woman, 96 years old and in poor health, although still able to walk and take care of herself in her own apartment, with support from family members. She told me that her life felt very small and solitary and empty, and that she was ready to die and glad to die, except that she was so very afraid. She had been raised as a Catholic and she was certain that she would be judged, and terribly judged, strictly judged, judged with no leniency or mercy. She was afraid of that and so she clung to her lonely and increasingly small life - two rooms and a visit here and there from her daughter, bringing in a few groceries and tidying up. All I could do was listen with compassion. I tried to do more, but to no avail. No one can take away another's fear. Only they can do that for themselves. She is allowed to be afraid, this old woman. He is allowed to deny his own mortality, this old man who has seen countless friends buried.
Some say that our life is defined by the manner in which we face our death. All I know for certain is that I am not afraid of death and yet I deeply honour the feelings of each person with regards to it. I see death as something sacred, something infinitely perfect in its imperative upon each of us.
When a loved one dies, everything stops for us. Our own lives are put to the side for so long as it takes to follow the compulsions of our hearts. We pour ourselves out for the one who has passed and for those gathered in remembrance of that life. Acceptance and unconditional love are our ground at such a time. Accept our own grief and the grief of others. Accept our own anger, sense of betrayal or other emotions. Accept all that is in us and love ourselves anyway, just as we love the one who is gone. Eventually, we are able to accept the death itself.
Until we do this, our joy seems gone from us. It is not gone. It holds itself in the deepest compassion for all that we are in every moment. Our joy is our divinity expressed within us. Our divinity has all the wisdom of the angels, all the compassion of the Christ Consciousness of which it is a part. Our joy does not leave us, but goes very quiet, waiting with infinite patience until we are ready, once again, to hear its song.
And so it is with every loss, every calamity, every ending. The loss of a job, of an identity and a livelihood, is as devastating as the loss of a loved one oftentimes. The loss of a friend, through distance or deep disagreement can be a terrible blow. We lose marriages. We lose children to addictions or distance. We lose our sense of ourselves as having abundance when we lose money on the stock market. We lose faith sometimes and this is very hard.
Whenever we experience a loss, best to call it what it is and allow ourselves to feel whatever it is that comes up for us to feel. Breathe with it, cry through it, talk it over with someone we can trust to hold that space of allowance for us.
For it is absolutely crucial to us that we know we are allowed to feel. And we can give this to each other, this allowance. We can give it to our children as well. Too often, I believe, we tell each other, "Don't cry. Don't be sad." We mean well, but it does not serve. I would much rather hear someone telling me, "Cry for as long as you need to. I'll be right here beside you. Feel whatever it is that is in you. You are allowed to feel sad, or hurt, afraid or angry. You are allowed, dear one. You are allowed."
From that place of allowance, that place that honours us as we are, now, in this moment of grief and vulnerability, we can move the energies of our feeling through us. We can experience these incredibly strong emotions that wash over us like river water in flood. And that is exactly what they are, in a sense. Like floodwaters, they wash through us, wash us clean, clear out our sediments, our emotional debris. They leave us stripped, shaken and gouged out like flashflood canyons in some deserted place. But they leave us clean and clear, knowing ourselves in that moment better than we have ever known ourselves before, and clearly defined, like a riverbank after a storm.
Then comes the sweet, soft sound of our life and love returning to us, with the deepest respect and honour for our feeling and our movement through this storm.
And when we are ready, when we are clear and have allowed a quiet space within so as to hear its slender-noted voice, comes the tuning of our joy song, always there for us, always true.
I've lost three close members of my family, one to physical illness, one to mental illness and one to a sudden and totally unforeseen death. I have communicated with all three afterward, and I have heard and felt them from beyond the grave, or what some call 'the gateway to larger life.' I contend that death is much harder on those left to grieve than it is on those who pass through and go beyond. We might as well envy them their newfound freedom from the aches and pains that seem to be a part of what it means to be in the world.
When a loved one is very ill or dying, it is giving them a great gift to be in acceptance of their experience, in quiet compassion. They are allowed to be ill. They are allowed to be dying. Often we become quite dramatic and demanding in our own grief at the prospect of losing them, or faced with the challenge of watching them suffer. They know that our overwhelming emotions are a sign of how much we love them, but we can let them know that we love them and at the same time, let them go through whatever they are going through without having to worry about how we feel about it.
Doing this takes courage. If you choose to have such courage, you will have it. When our loved one does pass over, we can let them know, in our hearts, that we accept their passing. We can give them leave to go.
We may have a loved one who is very old or very ill and is close to death, but terribly afraid of it. Many people are afraid of death, for many reasons. I knew an old woman, 96 years old and in poor health, although still able to walk and take care of herself in her own apartment, with support from family members. She told me that her life felt very small and solitary and empty, and that she was ready to die and glad to die, except that she was so very afraid. She had been raised as a Catholic and she was certain that she would be judged, and terribly judged, strictly judged, judged with no leniency or mercy. She was afraid of that and so she clung to her lonely and increasingly small life - two rooms and a visit here and there from her daughter, bringing in a few groceries and tidying up. All I could do was listen with compassion. I tried to do more, but to no avail. No one can take away another's fear. Only they can do that for themselves. She is allowed to be afraid, this old woman. He is allowed to deny his own mortality, this old man who has seen countless friends buried.
Some say that our life is defined by the manner in which we face our death. All I know for certain is that I am not afraid of death and yet I deeply honour the feelings of each person with regards to it. I see death as something sacred, something infinitely perfect in its imperative upon each of us.
When a loved one dies, everything stops for us. Our own lives are put to the side for so long as it takes to follow the compulsions of our hearts. We pour ourselves out for the one who has passed and for those gathered in remembrance of that life. Acceptance and unconditional love are our ground at such a time. Accept our own grief and the grief of others. Accept our own anger, sense of betrayal or other emotions. Accept all that is in us and love ourselves anyway, just as we love the one who is gone. Eventually, we are able to accept the death itself.
Until we do this, our joy seems gone from us. It is not gone. It holds itself in the deepest compassion for all that we are in every moment. Our joy is our divinity expressed within us. Our divinity has all the wisdom of the angels, all the compassion of the Christ Consciousness of which it is a part. Our joy does not leave us, but goes very quiet, waiting with infinite patience until we are ready, once again, to hear its song.
And so it is with every loss, every calamity, every ending. The loss of a job, of an identity and a livelihood, is as devastating as the loss of a loved one oftentimes. The loss of a friend, through distance or deep disagreement can be a terrible blow. We lose marriages. We lose children to addictions or distance. We lose our sense of ourselves as having abundance when we lose money on the stock market. We lose faith sometimes and this is very hard.
Whenever we experience a loss, best to call it what it is and allow ourselves to feel whatever it is that comes up for us to feel. Breathe with it, cry through it, talk it over with someone we can trust to hold that space of allowance for us.
For it is absolutely crucial to us that we know we are allowed to feel. And we can give this to each other, this allowance. We can give it to our children as well. Too often, I believe, we tell each other, "Don't cry. Don't be sad." We mean well, but it does not serve. I would much rather hear someone telling me, "Cry for as long as you need to. I'll be right here beside you. Feel whatever it is that is in you. You are allowed to feel sad, or hurt, afraid or angry. You are allowed, dear one. You are allowed."
From that place of allowance, that place that honours us as we are, now, in this moment of grief and vulnerability, we can move the energies of our feeling through us. We can experience these incredibly strong emotions that wash over us like river water in flood. And that is exactly what they are, in a sense. Like floodwaters, they wash through us, wash us clean, clear out our sediments, our emotional debris. They leave us stripped, shaken and gouged out like flashflood canyons in some deserted place. But they leave us clean and clear, knowing ourselves in that moment better than we have ever known ourselves before, and clearly defined, like a riverbank after a storm.
Then comes the sweet, soft sound of our life and love returning to us, with the deepest respect and honour for our feeling and our movement through this storm.
And when we are ready, when we are clear and have allowed a quiet space within so as to hear its slender-noted voice, comes the tuning of our joy song, always there for us, always true.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
A Troubled Heart Holds Joy at a Distance
I recently went through an emotional scene with a family member. I fell out of joy, out of ease, out of peace. When we are faced with a conflict, a hurtful encounter, or a serious difference of opinion about how something should be handled, our inner world seems to be taken over. Everything becomes centered around that one space where things are not well, not balanced, not at all as we would have them be.
There are many ways that people find to deal with these kinds of things and there have been many books written giving advice and wisdom about these challenges. I have a perspective that I offer here.
Always it begins with our truth. We listen to ourselves. We ask ourselves how we are feeling, what we are feeling and then we ask ourselves why. And since we are swimming in these feelings anyway and nothing else seems to matter in the moment, we delve and we swim and we dive and we surface again. We stay with it until we have a clear sense of why we are upset and off-balance.
I was in a joyful and serene state before the upset occurred and at first I didn't make much of it. I went on with the activities and enjoyment of the day. But as evening came and with it a quiet time to sit and feel into what had happened, I realized that I needed to release the sense of hurt and insult that was in me. And the only way out is through.
From a place of peace and joy, we cannot always delve into the murky tangle of our ego concerns and fears of lack. We need sometimes to voluntarily relinquish joy, turn from peace, in order to clear and release the detritus that is in us from much earlier days and much earlier fears and hurts.
My mother spoke unkindly to me. That is the gist of what happened. It wasn't the end of the world, but it triggered something in me, and I knew that it went beyond that particular moment and that particular thing said and into a deeper and older place within me. Put very simply, if something hurts, find out why and then find out what the very essence of that hurt is so that you can realize it within you and accept it.
For us to ask these questions of ourselves, for us to probe the hurt, we need sometimes to turn away from joy and peace and love for all that is, as cleanly and clearly as we so often turn toward them. I'm reminded of a lovely home with dirty closets. What we really want to do is to clear out all the closets and cupboards and under every bed. Then, we can dwell in that house in all of our integrity, all of our truth and with all of our love and beauty unimpeded, unencumbered, free.
So for as long as it takes to hold that steady gaze upon our own selves being in the world with that person, that conflict, that situation - we do it. Breathing helps. We take long deep breaths that fill us with the courage and the strength to go on. We ask of ourselves that the truth be known to us. We accept that truth when it is presented to us. We listen to the small voice inside of us, the voice of our own wisdom, the voice of our own divinity speaking to us with such love, such compassion. That quiet voice speaks with a certain knowing, a certain authority. It provides insight. It resolves.
Then we stay with that understanding, so precious to us, and we let it sink in, let it soothe the hurt, soften the anger, slow the tears. We take the time to come to peace with that hurt, that fear of lack. For so often, these upsets have their origin in fear and in a hurt that was first felt when we were very young, very small and vulnerable. When we can accept it as an integral part of our experience of being in the world, we breathe that acceptance into our bodies and know peace. For there is nothing that we are, or have ever been, that is not a valid experience of what it means to be in the world. All of it enriches us and enriches the gift of experience that we give to Source through our being in the world.
Finally, with peace and acceptance within us for what happened, for what we felt and what we feel we need going forward, we release it with a sense of gratitude for what it has brought to us of understanding, of knowledge and wisdom, of experience. We let it go.
And it is then, and only then, that we can return to balance within ourselves and tune our frequency to joy once more. If we try to rush this process, it backfires on us and hurtles us back into imbalance and upset. And we cannot be in any way dishonest with ourselves. If there is a hurt, it will make itself known and we, in our love for ourselves, take the time to feel it and know it and call it our own before letting it go.
I have not completed the process of making peace with my mother after what happened the other day. She is away visiting friends at the moment, so our conversation about what I feel and need is delayed. But the conversation will take place. That is the other side of all of this. We are individuals functioning among other individuals in the world and we need to make our needs known to the people around us. When we have done the work of becoming clear to ourselves, for ourselves, we can make our needs known without a lot of drama. We can be clear with our loved ones and co-workers about our boundaries and our needs. This is always our right as human beings choosing to live in the frequency of joy.
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