Author: bondjanet

AWAY IN A MANGER

“Psychological development…without corresponding spiritual development tends to leave a person at the typical mid-life crisis point: many accomplishments but a life that feels empty of meaning and purpose even if one is engaged in community service or other worthwhile activities. The final spiritual passage through, where the ego is decisively dethroned in our psyche feels experientially like a real death, with all the fears and inner chaos this brings up.”

(Hillevi Ruumet Pathways of the Soul)

Being in a transition from tropical sunlight and warmth to the chill and rain of the great gray north, I reach for the same creature comforts that have appealed to generations of hardy Canadians: soups and stews, crackling fires, music, books, puzzles, cheesy rom-coms and Christmas lights times infinity. And the companionship of others, not because “misery loves company” but because we crave the feelings of acceptance and belonging generated by the presence of our loved ones. This is especially important as the nights get longer and we have fewer reasons to venture out of doors. This protracted period of darkness has its echo in the spiritual journey as well. Though this can occur at any time in one’s life (not just in December, or among our elders) there are common elements between the winter solstice and the “dark night of the soul” as written about in contemplative Christianity, or as the apotheosis of the ego in transpersonal psychology.

Hillevi Ruumet describes it thus:

“How many people at midlife, feeling a vague call to something deeper or greater, have unconsciously sought in a new personal love relationship the connection with divine Love, often betraying commitments and breaking up families in the process? But if in this waltz where both are struggling to lead, the Ego manages to see that the Self knows the dance better and consents to follow, their struggle can lead to the birth of a capacity for love as Aloha, embedded in the Divine and grounded in well-developed Egoic skills that will help to implement the person’s newly realized values in the world.”

Without trying to sound sacrilegious, I ask myself: What if the Christmas story were simply metaphorical for this birth of a capacity for love as Aloha? Ruumet explains Aloha with the following: “According to the late and much respected Hawaiian elder Nana Veary, ‘Alo’ means the bosom, the center of the universe. ‘Ha’ is the breath of God. Aloha is a feeling, a recognition of the divine. It is not just a word or greeting. When you say Aloha to someone you are conveying or bestowing this feeling. [It] is about the heart energy of the divine, and seeing our common divine essence in every human being.”

Seeing our common divine essence hinges on the discovery that we are not the unique, independent and self-sufficient individuals we imagine ourselves to be. It requires a basic cognitive shift from the perspective of “us versus them” and “me versus you” to an understanding that we are all interdependent, and nobody wins unless everybody wins. Aloha levels the playing field, as it were. It comes with the acceptance of our relative insignificance.

This transformation occurs slowly because the ego is highly defended against anything that threatens its dominance, its sense of control and all-knowingness. It’s just too humiliating for the ego to admit that it doesn’t have all the answers. But if one learns to trust in the power of love over the love of power in which the ego is embedded, the world takes on a much different hue. Spiritual expression can then evolve into the practice of compassion, arising out of a sense of connectedness and empathy with all humanity.

I believe that every individual comes to this Rubicon between the ego’s I, me, and mine, and the sense of connectedness with all humanity that Ruumet is describing. Each of us is at some time a babe in the manger with Fate or circumstances rendering us helpless — if only in our ability to find meaning and purpose in serving the demands of an overgrown ego. May we all see and follow the bright star of an open, caring and compassionate heart.

So as not to get coal in our Christmas stockings.

WONDER, JOY, LAUGHTER

“Today, try pausing before any action you take and recall how that action made you feel in the past. For example, writing often seems frightening or burdensome to me before I start, yet as many writers before me have said, I love having written. On the other hand, while nothing seems more appetizing to me than baked goods, I know that both wheat and sugar leave me feeling droopy and queasy. Just pausing to vividly recall the past result of each action helps me choose writing over procrastination and bananas over cookies. If you think through how each action leaves you feeling, you’ll find yourself more and more able to choose those that add up to your best life.” (Martha Beck)

On Saturday morning I was inspired to drive up to the farmers market in Waimea in search of a few made-in-Hawaii Christmas gifts, and stock up on some fresh produce before having our grand-daughter come to stay on Sunday. Not having eaten any breakfast in my haste to head for Waimea, I ate one of the half dozen chocolate croissants I bought from what is rumored to be the best bakery in Hawaii. It was delicious! But once the sugar rush wore off I could hardly stay awake for the forty five minute drive back to our place.

This provided a graphic example of what Beck is saying in the above quote. I’d always wondered what was meant by “follow your bliss”, “go with the flow” and other such glib expressions that inevitably left me doubting the structures or lifestyle disciplines I have developed in order to lead what I deem a healthy, satisfying and productive life. Flossing isn’t fun, but I like the way my mouth feels after a good dental cleaning. Folding the laundry or tidying the house aren’t initially appealing, but I breathe more easily without having clutter all around me. And while following my bliss might suggest I binge watch episodes of a favorite tv show, writing my blog can be a struggle indeed. I know I said I was taking a break, but when it comes to answering how I feel after having written a blog, I find nothing more fulfilling or satisfying.

By thinking through how each action leaves me feeling I’m at least able to register what results I wish to perpetuate and what choices or decisions I won’t make again. Somewhere between always choosing what is considered good for me, and giving in to the temptation of immediate gratification lies what I think of as a balanced, examined life. Checking in with my feelings is the most reliable gauge of whether I am following my bliss, or have somehow lost my way. Daily reflection helps me catch myself before falling off the spiritual wagon, as it were, and some form of spiritual practice restores my equanimity and helps get me back on track again.

Three words came to me as I reflected on what feelings would indicate that my life is on track: wonder, joy and laughter. When I take time to truly register my surroundings, wonder bubbles up like a fresh spring inside of me. When I transcend my ego and do something selfless for somebody else, joy suffuses my body. And when talking story or sharing a joke, laughter feels like a balm to my soul.

May I suggest you find your own “feeling words” to track in your journal, and, ideally inform what you choose to do in future.

Now I can reward myself with another episode of Death in Paradise. To each his/her/their own.

Maybe not the best choice. 🤔 What’s the banana of tv shows?

December 2, 2024

THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US

“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. —Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.”

(William Wordsworth 1807)

Though I’m taking a break from writing my blog I’m compelled to share the above poem as a pre-Christmas gift to those of you who are already worn down to cynicism and apathy by the barrage of adverts coming at us from every corner of the media’s reach. How did so many companies end up with my email address, my phone number, and my Instagram account (which I’ve taken off my phone in a last ditch attempt to preserve my sanity and objectivity)?

According to Wikipedia, “The World Is Too Much with Us” is a sonnet in which Wordsworth criticises the world of the First Industrial Revolution for being absorbed in materialism and distancing itself from nature.”

Since I don’t want to ruin anybody’s day with the observation that we’ve done little to refute Wordsworth’s accusation as to how far Western civilization has “strayed”, I’m going to make a suggestion that might help turn the tide in favor of nature, our own and that of the environment around us.

Do a daily Savasana (corpse pose).

Physically easy to do. Mentally and emotionally? Not so much. The would, should, could and ought thoughts create a maelstrom whenever I attempt to lie down, in anything other than a yoga class, for even five minutes of undisturbed R&R. (That’s REST and RELAXATION, if you’re unfamiliar with the term). During the hectic holiday season it seems counterintuitive to stop the frantic momentum of “getting and spending”, but if done with awareness ,Savasana can put things in perspective in a powerful way.

In death we surrender everything.

To lie still and hold that thought for even a few minutes reminds us that so very little is within our control. With or without doing the actual pose, stop to consider: “If I were to die tomorrow, would any of this to-do list matter? What would rise to the top of that list if I knew today were my last day on the planet? How would I want to be remembered? What would I like my legacy to be?” You can form your own questions, with the purpose being that of stepping away from the ego’s drives or the emotions’ striving for relief from anxiety, insecurity and a litany of hostile sensations that compel one to escape.

Which is what I intend to do momentarily as I power down my iPad and go help harvest this week’s yield in a neighboring vegetable garden. And drop off the contents of my compost bucket while I’m at it. Sheer bliss.

“Composting your karma means to take the residual, undigested events and habits and digest them. Just as a compost pile needs tending, so does our karma. Rather than feeling hindered by our karma, we can attend to it. The product in our healthy garden compost is humus, the living part of soil. The product of our composted, digested karma is learned lessons. As we learn our lessons, we become more and more aware. We learn to openly question, and we learn to listen. These lessons open us up to our innate compassion and wisdom. We become the Buddha we already are.”

(Excerpted from: Composting Our Karma: Turning Confusion into Lessons for Awakening Our Innate Wisdom)

If I were so motivated I could look back through my blogging history and find the exact date that I published my blog on Mindfulness, (Jan. 2021) that also marks my first attempt at composting. I wrote:

“As with home maintenance, personal growth can be mind-numbingly boring, lending credence to the John Lennon quote: “My life is what’s happening while I’m making other plans.” One to-do-list item after another gets in the way of a more exciting, care-free, (albeit imaginary) life. Hardly the stuff of our daydreams, inner transformation can be painfully slow. Like turning clippings to compost, change can take a very long time.

“But what if these seemingly insignificant, recurring activities were to serve a “higher” purpose? What if all the minutia I attend to on a daily basis were performed mindfully, purposefully? What if it were symbolic of the personal growth work that, while being done internally, profoundly affects not only myself, but people and things around me?”

These observations hold greater relevance in light of what I’ve been contemplating lately. Over breakfast with a friend we discussed the tendency, as we age, to resist change and wax nostalgic over the good old days. Our conversation was relative to her own parents’ recent move to a seniors’ community, and how difficult it has been for them to integrate into this unfamiliar place with its population of unknown faces. I could relate.

Since moving to West Vancouver, a neighborhood skewed to the over 65 age group, I’ve seen my fair share of canes, walkers and handiDART transit vans. Or maybe they just stand out because of what they represent, a decline both in independence, physical agility, and the mental ability to remember where I left my purse, hat, glasses.

So what options or strategies might my friend’s parents have besides “looking on the bright side” or “just sucking it up”? Since neither of those options appealed to me, I couldn’t imagine how they could be palatable to people older, and likely even more set in their ways, than me. (If that’s possible). And then of course there’s the perception that seniors’ residences are just “God’s waiting room”, a move to be put off for as long as possible.

For me to embrace aging there has to be more meaning and purpose in “seniority”. Fortunately there’s a great many wisdom texts that point to an engrossing and rewarding inner, spiritual journey that takes over for (or at least supplements) the more outgoing and physically active life I’ve been leading until now.

In Meditation in Action Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche writes about becoming the Buddha we already are:

“HOW TO GIVE BIRTH to bodhi, the awakened state of mind? There is always great uncertainty when you don’t know how to begin and you seem to be perpetually caught up in the stream of life. A constant pressure of thoughts, of wandering thoughts and confusion and all kinds of desires, continually arises. If you speak in terms of the man in the street, he doesn’t seem to have a chance, because he is never really able to look inward; unless perhaps he reads some book on the subject and has the desire to enter into a disciplined way of life, and even then there seems to be no chance, no way to begin. People tend to make a very sharp distinction between spiritual life and everyday life. They will label a man as “worldly” or “spiritual,” and they generally make a hard and fast division between the two.”

Fortunately (in retrospect at least), I was introduced to the bodhisattva (or awakened) path as a relatively young adult. Like a retiree who has lost the sense of purpose and identity that they got from their job or involvement in the community, so too the recession in the ‘80s took away most of the markers upon which I had based my sense of self-worth and security. After walking away from our home and most everything else we owned, I was challenged to find a new sense of meaning and purpose that wasn’t dependent on social status or material possessions. I found it in Vedanta philosophy, transpersonal psychology, and Yasodhara Yoga.

Because of this head start, I’m compelled to find words or examples of how to make the shift from “worldly” to “spiritual” more accessible or appealing to people for whom it is unknown or confusing, such as my friend’s parents. This aim is not entirely altruistic. As a spiritual seeker living in a secular community, I sometimes find myself doubting the value of inner work. Perhaps that’s a more candid reason why I want to interest people in a spiritual path. For the company, or sangha of people interested in awakening their innate wisdom. To make their years golden in more than name only.

Now where did I put my car keys?

THE HEART LOTUS

“The ancient yogis believed that within each of us lies an actual center of spiritual consciousness, called “the lotus of the heart,” situated between the abdomen and the thorax, which could be revealed during deep meditation. It is said to have the shape of a lotus flower and that it shines with an inner light.”

(by Pushker Panday, Dec. 29, 2022 jamesislandyoga.com)

Early the other morning I sat outside to do my centering practices and admired the sunrise silhouettes of the cabada palms that line our property. Their graceful, fanlike fronds reminded me of the lotus mudra, or hand gesture, that is used in various yoga practices. Compassion, forgiveness, affection and lovingkindness are just a few of the qualities that are symbolized by the lotus mudra. More significantly, in these “interesting” times, the lotus mudra represents growing out of darkness into light, because it is rooted in the muck at the bottom of the pond, and yet blooms in pristine, multi-petaled glory on the surface of the murky water.

Gazing upon water lily or lotus blossoms is enough to soothe body, mind and spirit, but why resort to mudras or indeed any of the Eastern spiritual teachings in this modern, Western, day and age? I guess the obvious answer is “why not?” Considering what we see and hear about socio-economic crises, polarizing political parties, rampant consumerism and widespread environmental destruction, I’d say we need all the help we can get.

Transpersonal anthropologist Hillevi Ruumet writes of the evolution from lower levels of awareness or consciousness to what she calls the Aloha Center: “Much of what we decry as deterioration in today’s Western cultures, particularly in the United States…is [due to] a tragic spiritual vacuum resulting in pathological ego-centeredness and its fallout in brutal competition, “win-at-all-cost” attitudes, violence, suicide, homicide, hopelessness and an epidemic of addictions. Moving to Aloha [the heart lotus] would solve many of these collective problems.”

Ruumet believes it is imperative that we progress both individually and collectively from the base instincts and primitive urges of our ancestors to the intelligent, compassionate, and altruistic humans we have the capacity to be. The lotus is a perfect symbol of this growth, and one that I am adapting into my daily routine, to remind myself that, though I may have fully matured physically, I still have a lot to learn on this evolutionary journey.

To perform the lotus mudra one places the lower palms, baby finger and thumb-tips together, and spreads the other fingers into a wide bowl shape that represents the open flower of the lotus. I visualize this bowl full of light, representing everything one needs to progress in their evolution of consciousness, and then I place in the bowl the names of people or projects that I wish to see sustained and guided by the inner light that Panday describes.

The branch of yoga that is mudra is way beyond the scope of this blog, but, to my mind, it’s not so important that I do the lotus, or any mudra perfectly (indeed there are many internet websites that offer different variations) as it is to set my intentions clearly and practice my chosen mudra consistently. My intention is a response to what I see as an either/or, “us vs them”, winners and losers mentality. Nothing that I have studied about the evolution of consciousness supports this way of relating or behaving. I agree with Ruumet that the only way we can perpetuate the human race is to reach a critical mass of people who subscribe to collaboration and consensus over confrontation and combat, operating on the premise that nobody wins unless everybody wins versus the divide and conquer model that seems increasingly popular.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

WHAT’S YOUR BUT?

“Whatever you do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”

(Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe)

I’m pretty sure my mouth is writing chèques that my body can’t cash. I blame it on the Ironman World Championship Triathlon that was held this year in and around Kona on the 26th of October. The week before the race saw many of the world’s top tri-athletes cruising up the Queen K (Ka’ahumanu) Highway as they trained for the bike leg of the race, passing duffers like me as if we were standing still, if not going backwards. I was so inspired that I started talking up doing another Lavaman relay (bike leg only), which is scheduled for early next April. This Olympic length race is much shorter than an Ironman. The bike leg is a mere 40k. So how hard could it be? I’ve just started getting back on my bike, but I used to do that ride two or three times a week for several months of the year. Prior to COVID I even competed in two previous Lavaman relays. All it asks is a firm commitment and consistent effort from me. Do you hear me warming up to the “But now I’m too old…”excuse?

In order to make a commitment I have a habit of telling people I’m going to do something so that I feel responsible to do whatever it was I said I was going to do. It’s only a problem if they call me on it. This time I claimed to need a goal for my 75th birthday — some challenge to motivate me to greater fitness, and to exercise better “portion control”. Training for the Lavaman would probably tick both of those boxes. At least I’m back on my bike after an almost two year hiatus.

It’s hard to describe what a great morale-booster it was to be “back in the saddle” after many months of limited physical activity (swimming was a godsend but one can only spend so much time in cold water. I’m no Wim Hof). The lack of mobility imposed by my arthritic foot, and recovery from hip surgery left me lacking not only in the physical wellness that influences my mood so positively, but, equally or more importantly, it also deprived me of the camaraderie generated amongst the groups of friends with whom I enjoyed doing these activities.

In the months post-surgery I observed myself sinking into a sort of defeatist ennui, losing a lot of my joie de vivre. My notion of training for the Lavaman was as much from a desire to perpetuate the positive feeling I got from biking again — a renewed sense of inner strength and stability — as it was to get in shape physically.

Having voiced my brilliant idea out loud seems to have set subtle forces in motion that brought to mind Goethe’s quote. A friend with whom I used to bike came back on island. We biked on Thursday and Sunday. I started looking at my (very arbitrary) schedule for days I could train and for people with whom I might do so. Being surrounded by extremely fit people (there were over two dozen people who came out for Friday’s mile long ocean swim) should be incentive enough to make a wholehearted commitment to do the Lavaman. But it’s not.

So I went on the Internet with the question: How to get off your “but” and, lo and behold, discovered a book by that title written by Sean Stephenson, a late American author and motivational speaker who was born with a disease (osteogenesis imperfecta) that gave him extremely brittle bones, many of which were broken in the process of being born. At birth his parents were told he likely wouldn’t live through the night, and that they should be prepared at any moment to say goodbye to their acutely compromised baby, then child, young adult, husband and father who lived forty challenging and amazingly inspirational years in his wheelchair-bound, three foot tall body. So of course I bought the book and have just read the below in Anthony Robbins’ prologue:

“The way a person lives his life can either serve as a warning or as an example to us. Sean is the example! An example of how to get over your fears, insecurities, and excuses. Sean could have sentenced himself to a lifetime of misery, yet he consciously chose to pardon himself from the pity. Sean amazes me not because he overcame his struggles, but because he chose to dedicate his life to helping others do the same.”

I got so engrossed in reading the book that I almost ran out of time to finish this blog. So I will close with Sean Stephenson’s own no-nonsense words:

“I have traveled to forty-seven states and six countries, meeting thousands of people a year. And here’s what I’ve learned: the only thing that has ever held you back from having what you want in life is the size of your BUT.

“Our BUT is that cushy excuse that we rest on when we want to quit, when we believe that there’s nothing more we can do to resolve our challenges or accomplish our goals or fix our mistakes.”

So what’s your “but”? And what are you going to do about it?

IF AT FIRST YOU DON’T SUCCEED…

“The [ants] came back/The very next day
The [ants] came back/We thought they were a’goners
But the ants came back/They just [wouldn’t] stay
Away, away, away…”

(Adapted from “The Cat Came Back”, by Harry S. Miller, 1893)

The above slightly-amended poem came to mind the other day, after two weeks spent battling a steady stream of the little buggers (can you tell my patience is wearing thin?) with numerous liquid ant bait traps and different sprays that worked for about a minute and a half, and put me in mind of the famous Leiningen, whose struggle with army ants is the stuff of literary legend. (You can look it up.)

Adding insult to injury, I next sat on a lawn chair at the beach and was immediately crawling (literally) with what looked like two sets of minuscule “predators”. Tiny green spidery things (aphids?) and great numbers of equally small but transparent antish-looking bugs were stirred into a frenzy of activity by my presence, only rivaled by my flailing attempts to rid my chair and body of these miniature but multifarious “enemies”.

All this preceded the final KO punch of what I wrongly identified as a swarm of termites that plastered themselves on the exterior glass doors (and my iPad screen) like some sort of Hitchcockian pre-Hallowe’en.

When A.J. (no relation) from Smart Pest arrived I was apprised of my mistake, and shown how to differentiate between termites and carpenter ants, how to distinguish white sand from termite droppings, and why our bathroom invaders weren’t being successfully eliminated. The good news, neither carpenter ant nor termite nests were detected on our property. The swarms were a couple of those random acts of nature over which a mere human such as I have little control, except when it comes to bringing in the heavy artillery of an antidote (pardon the pun), that we successfully applied the next morning.

Why am I telling you all this? Because it seems I’m being challenged to practice what I preach. It’s all well and good to pontificate from a lofty perch of a yoga philosopher, removed as I might be from the worst provocations to my peace and equanimity, on an island thousands of miles from anything even remotely threatening. So how did I handle this first world problem, this triple-insect threat to my peace, harmony and ease of well-being?

Not well. Not well at all.

They say the meek shall inherit the earth, and if the past week is any indication, I’d say the insect kingdom is well on its way to world domination. To feel so defeated by such tiny creatures (albeit numbering in the hundreds) was a humbling barometer of how well-equipped I am to handle pressure or adversity. But I do have some things going for me.

Aside from knowing people who know people who will respond quickly to my panicky SOS, I have the tools of reflection, journaling and mindfulness that give me some distance from the story my unchecked imagination is telling me. When I observed myself running around like a chicken with its head cut off, with visions of having to tent our cottage for termites two days before a month-long run of company, I stopped.

Breathed.

Slowed down.

Collected my thoughts and feelings in my journal. Shared some of them with an empathetic friend. Did some inspirational reading. (I recommend When Things Fall Apart, by Pema Chödrön). Treated myself to some (disappointing) Hallowe’en candy. Chanted. And finally, napped.

I wonder if Leiningen did any of that?

Ultimately, we also prevailed over our insect pests, but, for me, the greater success was in transcending my emotional knee-jerk reactions long enough to effectively address the problem. We did not have to tent the cottage for termites. We did not have to find alternate places for the next three sets of guests to “vacay”. We did not have to track down errant termite and carpenter ant nests. The swarmers moved on. The fix was relatively easy: a few drops of Advion gel dealt with the lingerers.

The point being, we all have provocations, great and small, but the greater threat to our ease of well-being is the story, or illusion, we create around what’s actually happening. The purpose of this blog is not to know it all, or remain at all times preternaturally calm, but just to share some of the tools and practices that have helped me see what my inner storyteller is doing, and helped me respond vs react to challenges or problems.

P.S. The above-mentioned tools might come in handy on November 6, for anyone who follows American politics. (Though I don’t recommend it, you should at least have lots of leftover candy with which to celebrate or compensate, as the case may be…)

THE EYE OF THE CAT

“It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishment the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.”

(From Invictus, by William Ernest Henley)

One benefit of doing an early morning practice in the out-of-doors is witnessing our furred or feathered friends wake up and start their day. Because our family eat meals outside in Hawaii, the odds are I’ll first see the sparrows (and their attendant predator, the feral cat) as they swoop in to see what’s left of last night’s dinner. The cat, skinny and brindle-colored, is particularly stealthy, padding about with feline grace, and startled to see me sitting quietly on the sidelines of this morning’s performance. I could almost see its mental wheels spinning as it turned its mesmerizing eyes on me, debating if I was friend or foe, before haughtily gliding off as if to say “I knew you were there all along. So what?” This little episode prompted me to wonder just how and what a cat sees. This in turn led to the question of how and what a human sees.

But first, a few fast cat facts. From the Animal Eye Group website I learned that “cats have 20 degrees more peripheral vision than humans do, which is perfect for staying aware of their surroundings. They identify things by motion, so the ability to spot movement is very important”.

Further, I read that cats don’t see colour like we humans do. They pick up faint yellows and blues but otherwise are limited to indistinct shades of gray. They excel at night vision, though, with pupils that can expand to let in a maximum of light, which they need to hunt well after dark. During the day, their lack of focal acuity makes them quite near-sighted. It’s a good thing they can smell and hear so well — they rely on those two senses and use vision to confirm what they already know they’re smelling or hearing.

In humans, the sense of sight generally plays the more dominant role, though we too depend on our sense of smell and hearing, not to mention taste and touch, to navigate the world around us. Problems arise when any of the senses are compromised in some way, potentially giving us incorrect information. How do we discern what is actually happening from what any particular sense is telling us?

Though in this limited blog I can’t do justice to Swami Radha’s Kundalini Yoga for the West, I have learned from years of studying the kundalini system that I can be the master, or at the mercy of my senses — in this case, my sense of sight. In the chapter on the third (Manipūra) chakra Swami Radha asks many questions to stimulate our thoughts about sight:

“What would your life be if you had no sight? Have you taken sight for granted? Is there a difference between “I look” and “I see”? What is sight? Do the eyes record as efficiently as a photographic camera? Watch the process of seeing, then analyze it. When you “look,” do you “see”? When does awareness come in? Can sight be cultivated?

“In fact, all five senses have to be exercised to bring them to their highest potential. If seeing is a mental process as well as physical, then the question of “How do I see?” carries more importance. If the eyes register the visual impression and the mind interprets it, is “clear sight” really possible? When the mind interprets, what is the basis of the interpretation? What prevents clear sight?”

It’s not important that you have answers to all such questions as it is necessary to cultivate a healthy curiositym in order to increase awareness and advance mentally, emotionally or spiritually.

And now, my friends, I must sign off without completing these thoughts. We apparently have a swarm of termites that is attracted to the light of my iPad. Yikes.

A day later I’m compelled to finish what I started with the questions that Swami Radha poses regarding sight. The whole idea of posing open-ended questions is new to a lot of people. We’re uncomfortable without the security blanket of certainty, of guarantees. Thus my inquiries into sight led to an epiphany about the overarching need to be right. 

Psychologist Mel Schwartz posted an insightful article in Psychology Today titled: “Why Is It So Important to Be Right?” 

He posits that our education, as with most things in our upbringing, has been geared to memorizing information and producing the right answers on demand:

“Our educational [and therefore our societal] system is rooted in the construct of right and wrong. We are rewarded for what are deemed to be correct answers and the ensuing higher grades, which generally lead to more successful lives. Being right affirms and inflates our sense of self-worth. As students we learn to avoid as best we can the embarrassment of being wrong. Getting the right answer becomes the primary purpose of our education. Isn’t it regrettable that this may be inconsistent with actually learning?

“Can you imagine the generative and exciting learning environment that would result from a class that rewarded asking the best questions? If you think about it, the most intriguing questions are those that don’t offer simple answers. Even more, they drive our thinking into greater complexity and curiosity. This would be a most wonderful learning experience. No need to be cautious about a wrong answer. And everyone would be invited to safely participate in a generative and shared inquiry.” 

I’ve often wondered why Swami Radha’s approach, congruent with the above article, was so appealing to me. Now I see what a relief it has been to not need to know everything, not provide the right answers all the time, but rather, let her questions stimulate my thinking about things I have taken for granted, or unearth incorrect beliefs that have gone unchallenged. 

Socrates said something to the effect that “Wisdom begins when we realize that we don’t know what we think we know.” I vote for a world where everyone is encouraged to participate in a generative and shared inquiry about unknowns that effect all of our lives. Otherwise known as leading an examined life. 

GOODBYE BARBIE

“In the simplest terms, the shift we are undergoing right now has to do with recognizing ourselves as being more than human, remembering that our earthly aspects are a very small part of who we are. In truth, we are multidimensional beings. When we begin to realize this, the life we planned for a limited conception of ourselves no longer fits. We must meet the needs and qualifications not only of our bodies but also of our souls”…”and we all must find the way that works for us to integrate this new and larger sense of self into our life plan.” (Daily Om, October 16, 2024)

This past week I had the good fortune to briefly share our grand-daughter’s first foray into “higher education”; strolling around campus, visiting the dorm, the sorority, the student union building for schwag, and the eating spots — pizza, frozen yogurt, noodles, burritos — popular with a certain budget and demographic. I felt giddy seeing all the myriad learning opportunities (and extra-curricular activities) on offer at this vaunted university. By day’s end, however, I felt equally giddy returning to our spacious hotel room and six lane pool where I could soothe my overstimulated mind and overheated body. In the peace and calm of the nearly empty pool, I mulled over the impressions of the day, at which time a bittersweet realization dawned on me: I no longer have the time, energy, inclination or envy to join this teeming sea of bright young people. By comparison, it’s all too easy, in my mid-seventies — recovering from hip surgery, collapsed arches and other infirmities — to see myself as a salmon who has, after a lifetime at sea, swum upriver and spawned, and, thus having served my purpose, should be preparing to exit stage left. This is not a fate I am keen to embrace.

That’s why I endeavor to lead an examined life.

I like to believe that, for humans of any age there is so much more to explore, no end of wonder to experience, no end of learning and growing to do. As challenging, frustrating or disappointing as daily living can be, it also provides many subtle answers to the questions that I pose in my spiritual journal, and satisfies my desire to understand the deeper motives and meanings of what’s happening around me.

To get these answers and foster this understanding requires me to be receptive and curious, taking note of the symbolism and metaphors that stand out from the constant flow of information coming my way. No matter how small and insignificant the encounter might seem, there is often a message lurking just under the surface. Today’s insight came through observing a frog no larger than a raisin.

Though the mighty-voiced coqui frog has been all but eliminated from this part of the island, I spotted one hopping across the stepping stones in our garden on the day of our arrival in Hawaii. Curiosity led me to an internet search of the frog totem in Native American spirituality. In the “Spirit Animal Blog” posted by Urban Healers of L.A., the following spoke to me:

“In native teachings, there are three stages of life; the Child, the Adult, and the Elder. The Elder is the most highly honored position among Native communities who recognize that the health and wellness of the individual is inextricable from the health and wellness of the tribe, which is only possible due to the unbroken chain of effort of ones ancestors who survived the trials of life. Elders are the guides who tell the tales of instruction passed down from generation to generation by the sacred fireplace. It is likely that your experience of family was not filled with such community and wisdom. Frog medicine asks that you let yourself grieve for that reality and begin the journey to become an Elder for others.”

In retrospect, it’s easy to see the progression from “Child” to “Adult” in the loss of attachment to the shiny objects that attracted me in the past. I no longer covet the latest Barbie doll, yearn for my own pony, or prefer bubblegum ice cream to Kona coffee or a nice dark chocolate.

But learning to let go of things that bring comfort, security or satisfaction as an aging adult requires another level of maturity, another step in the process of becoming an elder and “meeting the needs and qualifications” not only of my body but of my soul. Indeed, I am beginning to realize, as the Daily Om quote predicts, that “the life [I] planned for a limited conception of [myself] no longer fits.”

On the one hand this is a difficult pill to swallow. In a society that regards aging with trepidation, if not disdain, I see the marks that living has left on my face and body and reluctantly acknowledge that this trajectory is only going one way! It’s encouraging to note that “these earthly aspects are only a small part of who I am”. My task now is to find ways of integrating a new and larger sense of self into my life plan, to shift the demands I make of my mind and body to something more fitting for this unprecedented (for me) stage of “eldering”.

And now, an intermission, while I track down whoever helped themself our ripe white pineapple…🤔

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

“Everything in the universe is within you. Ask all from yourself.” (Rumi)

I found it difficult to parse what Rumi is saying with the above quote. But it resonated with a thought process I’ve been exploring for the past few weeks. And the discovery is this: depending on how much sleep I’ve had, or when I’ve last eaten, or what I have on my “dance card”, or a host of other variables, a different personality aspect tends to hold sway in my psyche. How I experience my life, whether I’m happy or sad, brave or afraid very much depends on whatever personality aspect has control of my inner narrative at any given time. And, too often, the aspect in control of my thoughts or emotions is what I’ve begun to think of as the Beast. I know my inner Beast to be a temperamental creature who can be sullen and judgmental, irritable and demanding, much like a child who needs a nap, or a snack, or a distraction. Another name for this beast is my ego.

Thankfully, I’ve observed another facet to my nature that I’m calling the Beauty. Beyond being just a contented ego, my inner Beauty or Light shines when I am not thinking of myself at all, but functioning from a selfless or egoless place — not trying to meet some personal need or agenda but am simply present to what is happening in the moment. That Beauty and the Beast struggle for control of what I think and feel, do and say, is an understatement. Which is why I engage in a regular spiritual practice to referee between these facets of my psyche. I begin by pouring thoughts and feelings into my spiritual journal before they become more solid and convincing, compelling me to say or do something I ultimately regret. The stronger the impulse to act out, the more effort it takes to rein in whatever energy I’m itching to expend. I’m sure I’m not the only one who comes to her senses in a moment of quiet reflection and asks “What was I thinking?!” after having created some major or minor catastrophe.

Hillevi Ruumet, a transpersonal anthropologist of whom I was a student at what is now Sophia University writes about this inner struggle in terms of Ego versus our inner Divine Light or Self, calling it the Transpersonal Passage:

“But if in this waltz where both are struggling to lead, the Ego manages to see that the Self knows the dance better and consents to follow, their struggle can lead to the birth of a capacity for love as Aloha, embedded in the Divine and grounded in well-developed Egoic skills that will help to implement the person’s newly realized values in the world.

“We can now grow into the ability to compassionately witness our own behavior and inner process, as well as that of others. For the first time, we can see what the ego is doing and decondition negative patterns with which we have identified before. We are able to be generous towards others and take care of ourselves. A basic cognitive shift occurs from seeing the world from an either/or perspective to seeing it as both/and”… “Self-aggrandizement is no longer a primary goal. Some may join civic-minded people who form the backbone of community service all over the world. Others may extend feelings of kinship to all people and/or all of life, so that the perception of “we/they” yields to the “we” of our common humanity (and for many, to all forms of creation).”

This brings me to the Rumi quote that everything in the universe is within me. If I understand that the universe is composed of energy, the same energy from which I draw my existence, then it stands to reason that everything and everyone else is, in essence, an extension of this energy, me of them and they of me.
The example is given of a wave that is at once individual and yet also insperable from an ocean of energy.

In terms of asking all from myself, I read that as meaning I can tap into this vast ocean of energy that is beyond my ego, beyond my small self-identity, and not only get the answers I need, but the wisdom and strength, confidence and clarity to act from my highest ideals.

Daily Om sums it up thus:

“We cannot help but be part of the realities of the people around us because we take form from the same energetic force, and this force unifies all life. This force is the light that all the great mystics and gurus encourage us to move toward, and it is the light we will dissolve into when we move beyond our individual egos.”

Aum Namah Sivayah