The Jewel in the Heart - Pema Chodron

"Spiritual awakening" is frequently described as a journey to
the top of the mountain.  We [supposedly] leave our attachments
and our worldliness behind and slowly make our way to the top.
We [supposedly] transcend all pain...

On the journey, however, the path goes down, not up...
Instead of transcending our suffering, or that of others, we
move toward our own turbulence and doubt, and that of others,
however we can.  We explore the reality and unpredictability of
insecurity and pain, and we try not to push it away.  Even if it
takes years, we let it be what it is.

At our own pace, without speed or aggression, we  move down
and down and down.  With us move millions of others, our
companions in awakening from fear.  At the bottom we discover
water, the healing water of our heart - our wounded, softened heart.
Right down there in the thick of things, we discover the love that
will not die.  This love is called Bodichitta.  It is gentle and warm;
it is clear and sharp; it is open and spacious...

Healing can be found in the tenderness of pain itself.  Without
realizing it we continually shield ourselves from [emotional] pain
 because it scares us.  Based on a deep fear of being hurt, we erect
 protective walls made of our strategies, opinions, prejudices and
emotions. Yet, just as a jewel that has been buried in the earth
 for a million years is not discolored, the Heart of Bodchitta
is not affected by all the ways we try to protect ourselves from it. 
The jewel can be brought out into the light, and it will glow...

.....tenderness for life....awakens when we no longer shield ourselves
from the vulnerability of our condition, from the basic fragility of
existence.  It awakens through the kinship with the suffering of others.

Pema Chodron
Buddhist Teacher

Excerpts from:  Comfortable with Uncertainty
by Pema Chodron

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering
Jewel in the Heart

 

Everyone Is Wounded - Rachel Naomi Remen

All people are wounded, but people who come here can't cover
it up the way the rest do.  Everybody has pain, everybody is
wounded.  And because [Commonweal] participants can't cover up
 their woundedness now that they have cancer, they can trust each
other. I can trust another person only if I can sense that they, too
have woundedness, have pain, have fear.

[When you have cancer, or other chronic or serious illness]
you feel separated from the whole  human race.  You feel
 as though you're looking at the world through plate glass. 
You can see other people, but you feel as if you can't touch them
 or be with them, because you are different.  They say that the
sense of isolation, of being separated from people who are
well, is as painful as chemotherapy, as cancer itself...

Years ago, when I was Associate Director of the pediatric
clinics at the Stanford Medical School, one of my
colleagues, Marshall Klaus, did a study which at the time
was extremely innovative.  He was chief of the intensive
care nursery, where all the babies were these tiny little
people you could hold in your hand.  Each incubator was
surrounded by shifts of people and millions of dollars worth
of equipment.  Everything was high-tech. Of course, we
didn't touch these infants because we'd get germs on them.
But Klaus decided to do an experiment in which half the
babies in the nursery would be treated as usual, and the 
other half would be touched for fifteen minutes every few
hours.  You'd take your pinky finger and rub it up and down
the little baby's back.  And we discovered that the babies
that were touched survived better.  No one knows why.
Maybe there's something about touching that strengthens
the will to live.  Maybe isolation weakens us.

Rachel Naomi Remen
Cofounder of the Commonweal Cancer Help Program,
as interviewed by Bill Moyers in
Healing and the Mind

with thanks to Rod MacIver 
at Heron Dance
Rod is a survivor of 4th stage Lymphoma.

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

~

"People don't care how much you know,
until they know how much you care."

whatever happened to compassion...

 

The Wound - Maya Luna

Maybe you don't heal 

The wound

Maybe it becomes an

Opening

Where buried truths can finally

Speak

Maybe it's a portal into

An abandoned universe

Crying out to be

Known

Maybe the rip and tear is tilled

Ground

Where fresh creation

Blooms

Maybe it wasn't meant to be

Closed

Maybe its a secret

Well

A blackened vessel

Where power flows

Maybe the raw cut was meant to

Bleed

Vital Medicine into

Thirsty Hearts

Maya Luna

with thanks to No Mind's Land

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering
2004

 

Because We Are Human - Dr. Jacqui Lewis

I think grief puts us in touch with our vulnerabilities.
I think the feeling of grief lets us know the power of wounds
to shape our stories.  I think it lets us know how capable we
are of having our hearts broken and our feelings hurt.

I think it lets us know the link that we each have because we're
human.  Because we're human, we hurt.  Because we're human,
we have tears to cry.  Because we're human, our hearts are
broken.  Because we're human, we understand that loss is a
universal language.  Everybody grieves.

All humanity grieves,  All of us have setbacks, broken dreams.
All of us have broken relationships or unrealized possibilities.
All of us have bodies that just don't do what they used to do.
Though grief is personal, every person grieves.

Dr. Jacqui Lewis

With thanks to The Beauty We Love

~

Photo - Mystic Meandering

 

The Great Transition - Matt Licata

 In the current global environment.....as we navigate this
period of great transition, while we don't know exactly where
we're headed, we can slow down and prepare for what is 
coming next by deepening our wisdom and compassion,
both for ourselves and others.

By turning toward the Soul, the Heart, the Self, and attuning
to its intelligence and guidance, we can recommit to our
unique path of transformation, and remember what is
most important.

Each of us is called in our own way towards a life of
wholeness, purpose, and meaning, and we each have our
own hurt, pain, grief and wounding to tend to.

We affect, and are affected by, those around us.  We are
affected by life everywhere.  We come to this life with
unique gifts, and ways of engaging The Mystery.

We have all been wounded and the path of seeing our
wounds as initiation is one that is as old as recorded
history.  It is not an easy path, but one that is imbued
with mercy, grace, and a certain poetic beauty.  It is a
path of courage and kindness...

It is essential that we honor our unique sensitivities and
eccentricities and open to the possibility that even our
deepest wounding may be filled with guidance,
medicine and meaning.  [It is essential] to recommit
to the path of [the Soul], to embodied transformation
and healing, to participate consciously and access the
alchemical gold  at the core of our wounds as a gateway
to a life of deeper meaning, connection and aliveness.

Matt Licata, PhD

~

Photo from the internet

The Path of the Wounded - Matt Licata

 Many of us on the ["spiritual path"] have been wounded -
physically, emotionally, or at a soul level.  Whether this 
wounding takes form by way of relational trauma, or
through personal betrayal, it has a way of coloring our
perception and affecting our capacity to feel safe.

Our increasingly speedy and fragmented culture has 
pathologized valid human experience, such as grief,
melancholy, anger, and uncertainty, giving rise to a
psychiatric and self-help community determined to
"cure" or "transcend" dimensions of the psyche that
contain important (and even holy) data for our unique
 paths of creativity and meaning.

For some, this occurs only by way of transition, dissolution,
and loss, through an embodied confrontation with the
unconscious and the unlived life.  These experiences are
not signs of error or mistake, but calls to depth and
evidence of how our wounding can serve a function.

At times, deeper "healing" will require that the wound
disclose itself in more subtle ways within the psyche and
the body, where it can seem like things are getting worse.
Tending to this organic unfolding of the healing process
requires newfound levels of courage, patience and trust.

It is not an easy life/path - one that we do not choose
consciously....  It requires that we walk in this world
against the grain and remain open to further wounding
 and revelation of shadow, and dare to consider the
radical possibility that the ally will appear in infinite
ways.  Not to harm, but to reveal.

Even though it may seem as if we are alone - and in
part we must walk this path by ourselves - we are never
truly alone, as unseen helpers, friends, and companions
are always nearby...

Matt Licata, Ph.D.

From the Path of the Wounded Healer

~

The wound is the place where the light gets in.

Rumi

~

Photo taken by my brother

Holy Wounds - Pesha Joyce Gertler

Finally on my way to [saying] yes [to life]
I bump into
all the places
where I said no...

all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that send me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds

the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and say - holy
holy...

Pesha Joyce Gertler

"The Healing Time"

via: Beyond the Fields We know

Sorry the photo is not clear
it was taken many years ago
with a very old camera,
but I like the colored water :)

"Simple Minded"

My mother is becoming more “simple minded” – meaning – she is showing clearer signs of dementia. She has been “showing signs” for several years, but it is more pronounced now. Within 5 mins she has forgotten what you have said, especially if it is detailed, has to be reminded over and over again, and is learning to write things down. The other day she said to me – after having to repeat myself several times – “I am beginning to forget things.” She has been “beginning” to forget for years now, but is only now just noticing the forgetting – or let’s say – is now accepting and admitting it. I think she’s known for a while, but could hide it. Well, she *thought* she could, but the rest of us knew. But she can’t hide it from herself anymore. And gets frustrated when we pick up on it, and doesn’t like being questioned in order to seek clarity.

In many ways her strong-willed, head strong personality has changed. That’s what personalities do, they change and in some cases dissolve… She seems more “simple” now – not asserting her power, her will, her motherly authority, her need to control; instead getting lost in herself, and lost in simple things, in simpleness. And I wonder if “she” is getting lost. I’m sure the fact that she can’t see well, or hear well has only added to her “simpleness.” And I wonder if this is such a bad thing – this simple mindedness that allows us to come out from hiding – and just be… But I also wonder to myself if one loses the awareness that we are more than our self, our personhood, (if one has ever realized that, if you know what I mean). And if we do lose that sense of inner Beingness - what then...

In some ways she is easier to be around because there are fewer “personality struggles”, as if this simple mindedness has allowed the veil of personality to drop somewhat – but not by volition. I see her vulnerability and fragility of mind and body – and I soften. I feel compassion for her, and yet frustration arises because her cognitive abilities and comprehension are slipping. She is less and less able to understand. She gets information wrong, and therefore passes on incorrect information, which tends to get everybody else’s wires crossed.

I feel compassion as well as anger and irritation when she can’t “get it”, or gets confused, or can’t get the words out. On the one hand I want to try to explain things to her so she can understand, and be understood, but realize it doesn’t do any good. She is incapable of understanding complexity, and her mind forgets. Her brain isn’t working like it used to. I understand that but it is hard to experience. Neither is mine for that matter. I am losing my words… I can describe what the word I’m groping for does, but sometimes just can’t come up with the word, which boggles my mind even more. How could I *remember* how to describe what a word does, but *forget* the word…. Strange brain… It is disconcerting to lose the ability to articulate… So we laugh about the fact that we are both losing our words, both forgetting. But the reality of it is, well, scary - this untimely “simple-mindedness” that creeps in over time as we age.

In Mom’s simple-mindedness I notice that she relies on things being as they always have been, how things used to be, on things being consistent, reliable, and gets confused when they are not. Don’t we all! And yet, she seems adaptable as well – able to move with life as it is, through her simpleness. Not a bad quality actually. Isn’t that what I’ve been trying to do all these years on a “spiritual path” – find the simpleness and simplicity of just living – just being. But I am *aware* that this is what I’ve been doing. And I know it’s not really the same. When the brain-mind starts to go it’s really a forced simpleness through a loss of connection somewhere in the brain, which means *her* reality of things doesn’t always coincide with actual reality. Well, neither does mine actually! :) And I don’t see that as “bad” either! :) It’s just what’s happening now…

My sister, you remember - the prickly personality, lives with her, and is having a hard time with Mom’s simple-mindedness. Her own brain being short-circuited through years of drug abuse and alcohol - is also forgetting; although insists her memory is accurate, which creates unnecessary conflict. She cannot adjust to my mother’s growing simpleness, and is short-fused. Mom is no longer able to be who she was, or the image of who we want her to be – the “mother.” That role is dropping as well. My mother was never really “mothering” in the sense of being the nurturer, the encourager, the emotional supporter. There really wasn’t much of a “heart connection.” The baggage and the woundings from all that are still there of course. But it’s really time to put that baggage down. In fact I think I already have, although I don’t remember when. It must have slipped out of my hands when I wasn’t looking. I realize there is no point in holding onto the baggage and trying to hold her accountable for old wounds that she can now neither understand nor do anything about. The time for discussion and trying to get her to understand, without creating more wounds, has passed. There is only what is…

I see that more and more. And I see that I am going to have to meet her in her simpleness - *her* reality – to accept her simple-mindedness – to allow her to simply be the way she is, without struggling against it, without closing my heart… I’m sure that will be a challenge for all of us - as we all slip down that rabbit hole of “simple-mindedness” together…

Bleeding Enso

I was inspired today by Genju’s post over at 108zenbooks on the Enso. So I thought I’d give it a try. (Please see her post for a more complete explanation of the meaning and significance of the Enso.) From my own brief research the Enso is a Zen symbol of completeness, wholeness, infinity, the universe, the absolute, the cyclical nature of existence, and the true nature of existence. It is considered to be a form of meditation showing the expressive movement of the spirit of the person painting at that moment.

I have never done an Enso before, although I have been strangely soothed by viewing them. I saw Genju’s post as an opportunity to play, to be creative, as well as a way to possibly peek into the reflection of where my spirit is at the moment…

The first few I tried, I knew I was “trying” - trying to make the circle complete – trying to get the circle “right” – because I knew how it was “supposed” to look. Mind was trying to control, and they looked “contrived.” It wasn’t until I got to this one – the 5th “try” – that the mind at least partially let go of trying, and the stroke became more expressive of the “spirit” within. I was using a clean make-up brush, watered down acrylic paint, and different kinds of scrap paper that I had. When I got to this one I had switched to a pad of wax coated paper that I used to practice folk art painting on a long time ago – to get the strokes just right before messing up a piece of wood. Always trying to get it “right.” :)

In the Enso pictured here, the original circle was not complete. It started out as a big blob of paint at the top left and ended with hardly a wisp of paint at the end. Then something unexpected happened. I picked up the piece of paper to look at it. The paint literally began to bleed – to run. At first I was a bit panicked: a - this isn’t supposed to be happening - kind of feeling. But I relaxed, became curious and just let it run, turning the paper with the flow. Ah - still trying to control! :) Or – looked at another way - maybe just spontaneously letting life turn the way it does – adjusting and adapting… As the paint flowed a “bridge” appeared between the beginning and the end of the original stroke, and tendrils dripped into the center. I watched mesmerized as redness oozed its way around the circle, and the tendrils just kept going till they ran out of paint. Something inside deeply resonated with it, and I *felt* the reflection of what was expressed in the moment: not quite complete, not finished, not fully "enlightened" – in fact, rather raw and bleeding – life energy running everywhere; even though I keep *trying* to bridge that gap – to keep turning life around so “I” will finally feel complete. Yep – the Enso pretty much sums it up…

I don’t know if this is a” true” Enso, as I get the sense one is not supposed to play with them, or alter them in any way. They are just supposed to be a single brush stroke. But here it is – my “first” (5th) Enso… Something about it fascinates me – being able to peek into the nature of how “spirit” speaks to me, without self-analysis… I like the expressiveness of the movement, watching it unfold, seeing where it all goes – on paper that is. Every day life, not so much… :) The Enso reminds me, however, that even in the midst of the messiness and woundings of life, we are already whole and complete in our true nature. We are embraced just the way we are, even if things are not precise and clean… Wonderfully soothing isn’t it? :)

Thank you Genju for the inspiration and call to creativity!

~*~

Darth Vader Strikes Again...

Today I came crashing back to Earth, and in a flash I experienced “the dark side” again. I discovered just how much anger is still here. Whoa. Get ready for the laser show folks. It was triggered in a flash by ignorant words spoken from frustration. This I know in my Being, but my reaction came from my own old wounded heart. I saw exactly how it gets triggered in me, and how it spreads like wild fire when unchecked. It’s a little embarrassing, but thought it would be therapeutic for me to blog about it here… And maybe you can relate too. And just when I thought the non-duality cosmic light show was getting pretty spectacular too… Darn… Anything to keep me humble. So it’s story time… Oh c’mon, you know you still like a good story! :)

I called my sister today, as it is her birthday tomorrow and we were planning a little get together for her to help celebrate how far she’s come since her “accident” March 3rd when she broke her back and injured her neck. I called to make sure that everything was still on for tomorrow and to find out what else, if anything, she wanted for her birthday dinner, (which is take out btw. Short order cook I’m not. My family doesn’t like the kinds of foods I prepare. You know, the “good” stuff. So take out it is!) Anyway, it was clear that my sister was not in a good space, so I did my usual song and dance routine about look how far you’ve come – trying to encourage. But that wasn’t good enough. I maintained my composure as she went on about how bad everything was for her: the heat, the air-conditioning that wasn’t working right, her life that isn’t going the way she wants it, etc. Still, I was trying to put a good face on it. (Maybe that was my problem.) I tried more encouraging words, and empathy. I asked if there was anything in particular that was causing her to feel this way. It was met with the statement: It’s just my whole f-ing life in general. Where have you been for the last three months!? (Said sarcastically, as if I didn’t know how hard her life has been – and not just for the last 3 months.) And of course I was the one who was there for her, who kept her secrets, her lies. I was there for her physically and emotionally, despite my own physical and health difficulties, for 6 straight weeks, until she was more capable and independent enough to be on her own. And I’ve still been available to her as needed for the last 6 weeks as well. I mean, last I checked I was there. Maybe she just didn’t *see* me… But maybe that’s the issue – it’s all about “me.” Ooops.

Her words cut deep. Her excuse was that she was hot and cranky. I got off the phone as quickly as I could, before the eruption - ready for a rant.

It surprised me the level of anger her insult brought; the level of hurt. That’s where the anger comes from – being hurt - wanting to protect against the pain that only family can inflict. And it’s not about being appreciated. But I certainly didn’t anticipate being insulted either, even if I know that she acted in ignorance. Evidently there’s still a strong sense of “self” here. The “me” was offended. The mind kicked in – creating a story: How dare she, after all I’ve done for her… I reached for my laser gun under my cape. I made a phone call – no chanting or meditating here – oh no. It was time for the light show! I sputtered and fumed, waving the laser wand in huge sweeps of angry reactivity, wiping out those little birthday candles on the cake with a few choice words of my own. It still didn’t make me feel better. In fact, the amount of reactivity surprised me – as I indulged. I could not muster compassion. I could not step away from the story, the hurt, the emotion. I just had to allow the anger to run its course… However, I don’t recommend venting. It involves people you don’t really want to involve and it doesn’t really solve anything constructively. It relieves a little steam, but then there’s still the gaping wound. Even if I rationalize that she acted in ignorance, from a place of unconsciousness, and she can’t help herself – the wound is still there. And just because I may be on a “spiritual path” doesn’t mean I have to accept rudeness and insult, especially from someone who has a history of mowing people down verbally when things don’t go her way. Or so the “me” tells itself.

Interesting emotion Anger is. It has been a life long companion of mine; the twin of Anxiety. I *know* what triggers it: the “self” feeling slighted, insulted, misunderstood, abused, not heard, dismissed, disrespected, disregarded, unattended to by significant others in my life; fear, frustration and pain. Shall I go on… :) Yes, this is a familiar “friend”, and I don’t expect she will be leaving any time soon. So little Darthie still has a place at the table, except, I didn’t expect her to show up unexpectedly today. Like she was going to notify me first!?

So here I sit with “anger” – the Mystery as Darth Vader playing itself out in the shadow side of life. Little Darthie has tucked the laser gun under her cape – for now. It is safe to approach.

~*~

Wounded Puppies & Unexpected Grace

This blog has been percolating up all week – waiting for me to just sit and write it.

Tuesday I picked up a copy of the latest Shambhala Sun. I put it near the pile of books on the coffee table waiting to be read. Later, while lunch was cooking, I took advantage of the few minutes of Stillness and started leafing through it to see what was there. There was something comforting about just sitting and turning the pages, reveling in this silent moment. Not really reading anything. Just the act of repetitively turning the pages, sitting in the silence of the living room, was like a meditation. In that moment I once again became aware of a deep inner Stillness that had made its appearance the day before. At the turning of the next page there was a picture of a sad looking puppy in an ad for a Tibetan organization that helps take care of abandoned animals. I was drawn in by its sad eyes and furry coat. I paused for a moment, looked out the window – thought about our cat who died in August, thought about how it would be nice to have another warm, cuddly animal – and then kept flipping the pages until lunch finished cooking. The day went on and I was captured by the busyness of “the business.”

We have been in a pretty dark place here lately with the weight of life circumstances. Things have been tense and stressful, experiencing a lot of frustration and anger. We have often been like a couple of old barking dogs, yapping at each other, rather than playful puppies full of life and enthusiasm. And yet, in the last several days I have felt this strange sense of “contentment” – a strange sense of openness, acceptance, and a deeper Flow with inner Stillness that is absolutely unexplainable. I did not seek it out. “IT” just showed up. Later that afternoon, as I continued working with my husband, it occurred to me that he seemed like that puppy in the magazine – sad, wistful eyes, and scruffy fur – a kind of defeated look. Not unlike a lot of other people these days – including myself. It occurred to me that in many respects we humans are like wounded puppies, in one way or another – traumatized either physically, mentally, emotionally, or otherwise displaced – just trying to survive. Doing what we can to make life work. And sometimes in that woundedness we come out fighting like pit bulls. But behind the façade of the anger, the fear, the violence, even the sadness, there is a wounded puppy inside that just wants to be hugged, to be treated with kindness and respect – to be fed, and sheltered from the storms of life. In the seeing of this my heart softened – not only towards my husband, but towards all who are experiencing difficult life circumstances.

And what about this sense of “contentment” that showed up unexpectedly and uninvited - *before* this realization? The more of this open space that I felt internally this week, the more I was drawn into it with curiosity. What *is* this that seems to underlie all this other “shtuff” that I’m *also* experiencing – that we are all experiencing. When I brought my awareness to it, it felt like a spacious sense of grace, a spacious contentment in the *midst* of chaos; not because I had somehow gotten rid of my feelings of anger and frustration or anxiety, or because I had analyzed anything away. It was just there, waiting for me to notice. It was there underneath the moments of anger and frustration, like a constant, unexplainable Presence. All that was needed, it seemed, was to just be aware of IT, to *feel* it, to experience it – not work on eliminating anything *before* I could experience it, because I was – after all – experiencing IT! It was as if Grace flowed beneath it all - like a current of contentment ~~~ an unexplainable serenity that was available in every moment of experience.

I know it sounds so simplistic to say “just open to the Flow” that underlies it all. And I don’t mean to sound Polly-annish. But it appears to be true – at least from my experience this week. There *is* something unexplainable beneath our experience. This does not mean I haven’t felt the mind kick back in, creating anger and frustration and discontent about my life circumstances, but I can *also* feel this Flow, this Presence, and I realize again and again – Grace is there beneath my life experience. She is inviting me in – embracing this wounded puppy – offering me shelter from the torrents of storms. I can feel the tail begin to wag again. Excuse me while I take her up on the invitation and follow her Home…

Photo - Barnie the dog...