Author: bondjanet

TRUE STORY

“You are in the world but not of the world.”
(John 17:14-15)

Yesterday afternoon our massive Viking refrigerator suddenly toppled towards me as I was innocently unpacking our groceries. Initially I had the vertiginous feeling that I was falling forward, only to quickly realize what was happening and cry out for Jim to help me. Luckily he was nearby and we both braced it up, watching helplessly as its contents slid onto the floor into a sodden mass of smashed glass and fast-pooling cranberry juice that had all the markings of a horror movie. Minus the truncated body. However, the olives added the suitably macabre suggestion of rolling eyeballs…

As the initial shock wore off I worked to keep my emotions in check, as gratitude for how lucky I had been to weather, unscathed, this narrow escape, battled with a desire to tear a strip off whomever was responsible. It took effort to stay focused on “what is” versus wild imaginings about what might have been if one of my grandkids had unwittingly swung the door open towards him, her or their self .

To distract myself from such catastrophic thoughts I tuned into a TV show called “Beyond Paradise”, (a spin-off of the murder mystery series “Death in Paradise”) that, for some unexplained reason, I find calming. Maybe it’s because they always get their man, or woman, within the time allotted. Or perhaps because, once the episode is over, I’ve forgotten whatever thoughts I was originally hung up on.

In the intro of either show, and at times throughout both, the camera pulls back to offer a bird’s eye view of the stunning local scenery that us earthbound folks rarely see. As I gazed, entranced, at the glorious patchwork of green, rolling fields on the TV, I felt the tension release, and with it thoughts of a witch hunt for whomever was at fault. It brought to mind the quote I used at the beginning of today’s blog:

“You are in the world but not of the world” is a phrase that means to be physically present in the world, but not to be consumed by its values and trends. It encourages people to maintain their own beliefs and principles, even if they differ from the mainstream.” (Verse Ministry International)

Another way to interpret this quote is: “To maintain a healthy skepticism about the opinions and beliefs generated in the mainstream, or worldly side of my mind”. Provided I am even remotely capable of discerning right from wrong, good action from bad, I know that certain behaviors do not fit the criteria to which the more enlightened part of me subscribes.

Hang gliding and airline travel notwithstanding, daily life rarely affords me the third person omniscient POV of my physical surroundings offered by a drone or the other aforementioned modes. But daily reflection gives me the cool lens I need to ensure that what I think and feel, do and say, is congruent with my highest ideals.

Being one day removed from my close encounter with a wayward refrigerator, I am grateful to my wiser side for taking the time necessary to let my emotional energy dissipate. I still have flashbacks of the crash, smash and splash of yesterday’s close call. A sobering reminder that life can change in a heartbeat, and a compelling reason to clear whatever karma I can within my allotted time.

Aum Satchitananda

PS Is anyone making a TV mystery series about a wackadoodle supervillain with designs over a land named after a color rarely seen on said land by an exiled Danish murderer who is also named after a complementary colour in order to attract other deluded types to the land of snow and ice? True story.

PPS And no, it’s not Canada.

PLAY IT FORWARD

“Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.”
—Satchel Paige epigraph

(Susan Rieger Like Mother, Like Mother, The Dial Press 2024)

As all good epigraphs are meant to do, the above quote from Rieger’s book piqued my curiosity right from the start. It was reinforced when, near the halfway mark of the story, one of the characters says the following:

“Did you notice”, Ruth said. “Francis looks backward. Lila looks forward.”

This morning, while swimming laps, I contemplated the notion of living life looking forward versus looking back, or living in the past. So captivated was I by these two divergent ways of “looking” (ergo living), that I made “looking forward” the primary goal in the letter-to self that I wrote on New Year’s Eve. In fact, that was the one resolution I made until the next day, when my ever-ambitious left brain added an addendum to the letter. Out of habit, or to hedge my bets, I therein listed all the usual goals that I have yet to deliver on, despite recording similar ones on many a previous New Year’s Eve: “dust off my French language skills; lose 10-15 pounds; get fit by cycling in the Lavaman; be early or easily on time for appointments; apply myself more diligently to a writing career. Oh, and be kinder to myself in the event I do none of the above”! Same old, same old.

When I started to pay attention to the direction of my thoughts, I caught myself “looking back” more often than I might have imagined. The other night offered a prime example. While groping my way to the bathroom in the dark of night, I had a flashback to my aunt Francis, who suffered from macular degeneration in later life. I said to myself “This is how it must’ve been for Francis, navigating a world of shadowy shapes as her eyesight progressively deteriorated”. This led me down a rabbit hole of unanswered questions, regrets and sad memories. Thanks to my new resolution I realized what was happening and snapped my mind back into the present with a stern: “That was then. This is now. Where do I want to go from here?”

Since then I’ve given some thought to the “how” of keeping my attention pointing in the right direction. Checking in or watching my mind several times (or at least once) a day is one way. If I register persistent but unwelcome thoughts, I set aside some time to process the emotional content that comes up. A lot of this processing happens during my swim, when my only task is to keep breathing and staying in my lane.

Today’s attention zeroed in on how a friend had called me thin-skinned, which, I realized, I was obviously being or I wouldn’t be obsessing about that comment! With the detachment afforded by my “happy place”, a lap pool, I observed how my physical momentum slowed as my mind preoccupied itself with possible responses. Not only was the quality of my exercise compromised, but it was evident that I was looking back, figuratively speaking, and at risk of compounding the problem with a “take that!” reaction.

Talk about a tempest in a hot tub.

Cultivating the self-awareness to see what’s actually happening in and around me requires a certain degree of patience, objectivity, candor and humility. Taking the time to reflect is a first step. Having the objectivity to witness myself candidly, without the usual emotional coloring (aka defenses) of the ego is a second. From a “third person omniscient” perspective I can “locate” my own reaction in the greater context, see the other person’s behavior more benevolently (another item on my New Year’s letter addendum) and register the absurdity of the whole situation. With my emotional horses back in the barn I can decide my response, do whatever damage control is necessary, and go forward with my day, which consists of putting Christmas to bed for another ten or eleven months. Whew! Focusing all my attention on whatever task is right in front of me is another way to stay centered in the present.

As I edit today’s blog I listen to a favorite old Gerry Rafferty album that we were given for Christmas. His lyrics speak to this year’s singular resolution:

“You gotta grow, you gotta learn by your mistakes
You gotta die a little everyday just to try to stay awake
When you believe there’s no mountain you can climb
And if you get it wrong you’ll get it right next time, next time.”

Here’s hoping that I get it right once in a while, and if I get it wrong, I can always look forward to the next time…

P.S. I removed the addendum to the Christmas letter with all its aspirations and potential for failure, so as to focus on one singular, potentially life-changing goal, playing it forward throughout 2025. And beyond.

Aum Namah Sivayah

BUOYANCY

“When we investigate rhythm, we see that life is not a straight line but a wave, with its many ups and downs. But whether up or down, it still has the same life Energy. As human beings we need the impetus to lift out from the down to the up. It does not happen automatically. We have to contribute to it through our attitude, our emotions and our choices. The power of choice must be fully recognized.” (Swami Sivananda Radha Light and Vibration)

There’s something satisfying about reaching a round number of blogs before the calendar year flips over to 2025. Of course calendars don’t really flip like a Rolodex any more, and likely nobody born in this century knows what a Rolodex is, but some things remain constant no matter what month or year we are talking about. I remember the rude awaking I once had when flipping through old journals and reading the same complaints and grievances as I might have written about yesterday. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose?

At one point I thought those old journals would make interesting reading in my sedentary old age, but was humbled to see, after randomly dipping into decades of “morning pages”, how little progress I’d actually made! The hope and faith, peace, joy and love that the advent season represents were so little in evidence that I ultimately had some twenty-years’-worth of journals shredded before we moved to our current residence.

Of course by then I had long since switched to making my journal entries on an iPad, where they generally languish out of sight and out of mind. When I do remember to reread them, I’m often surprised by what I find. Today I reread the following journal entry from a few days ago:

“Sure that I couldn’t celebrate another Christmas like yesterday’s ever again, I’m yet buoyed up by (my granddaughter’s) scrapbook showing what a special part her grandfather and I have played in her life.”

It took that reminder to shift my focus from a mutinous exhaustion to gratitude for a most meaningful Christmas gift . It was an affirmation that every effort I make to go from “the down to the up” takes me closer to becoming the embodiment of spirit that Jesus’ birth represents, and for which achievement we all have the potential.

I like to think of the impetus to go from the down to the up in terms of buoyancy. Buoyancy implies an innate tendency to pop to the surface like the bubbly folks open on a night such as this, New Year’s Eve, when an external pressure is released. At the moment, buoyancy also implies the flexibility to pivot (or bounce, as our eldest son would say) when I encounter an obstacle like a cabin full of people bent on writing New Year’s Eve letters — to themselves — that we would open together on December 31, 2025. As Swami Radha wrote, the power of choice must be recognized. I choose to go with the momentum of the group and hope this says something about buoyancy.

Happy New Years to all and to all a good, safe, satisfying, fun and laughter filled night.

ADVENT

ad·vent
/ˈadˌvent/
noun
the arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.
“the advent of television” (languages.oup.com)

Or

“Christmas represents the divine child born in each of us and the divine attributes we can develop as we learn to express our God nature in human form. The four Sundays of Advent proclaim aspects of our divine nature—hope and faith, peace, love, and joy.”
(Unity.org)

There’s always a certain amount of shuffling involved in getting our Christmas “jam” on in Whistler. Not having been here for several weeks means I see what I’d been ignoring during the outdoor-centric summer months. Hence the minute I get to the cabin I am seized by a de-cluttering frenzy. It’s as if a subconscious part of me is sprucing up the stable for the advent of a “notable person, thing or event”. In my case, the impending arrival of a couple dozen family members for a week of skiing, eating, sleeping and general mayhem. This requires no small feat (I typoed fear) of organizing, provisioning, delegating and holiday decorating.

Space has to be carved out for bags upon bags of groceries and unwrapped Christmas gifts. Not to mention places to put piles of coats and heaps of boots. Ski (and other outgrown) clothes that have been scrunched in the backs of closets get unearthed and redistributed, if we’re lucky, so as not to pose a fire hazard in the coming months. Fire is on my mind this morning as I examine the slight damage to our eaves left by an electrical fire caused by rain shorting-out the plug-in of the Christmas lights. Yikes.

Not wanting to dwell on the spectre of our thirty-year-old wood cabin going up in flames, I instead steer my focus to the ceramic salt and pepper shakers in the shape of loons that I just discovered in the back of a kitchen cupboard. They’re identical to the pair I sent to my brother as a memento of our visit to Algonquin Park last fall. The sight of them brings back images of morning mist hovering moodily over the glassy lake, the haunting call of a solitary loon disturbing the stillness…

Letting my memory take me to such a place of calm and solitude creates the mental space needed to put this hectic season in perspective. I’m reminded of a teaching story in which a student complains to her teacher about her many responsibilities. Leading the student to the shore of a lake, the teacher hands her a cup of salty water and asks her to take a sip. Doing so, the student immediately splutters and spits out the bitter mouthful. Then the teacher pours the salty water into the lake, stirs it around a bit, and scoops out a second cupful. This time the mouthful goes down much more smoothly. The moral of the story?

Expand your sense of things.

This morning, expanding my sense of things starts with counting my blessings, thankful for all the help others have given me to make this holiday not only do-able but a joyful, meaningful week. Not to mention gratitude for the slightly fire-damaged roof under which we lay our sweet heads. I’m even taking a healthy pride in what I’ve managed to pull off thus far. (Think laying tracks in front of a moving train). The dinner I made the night some of our family arrived comes to mind. Scrounging in the freezer I pulled out a big chicken put pie and popped it in the oven while I combined two frozen soups, a can of diced tomatoes, a cup of salsa and a splash of white wine to serve sixteen on our first Whistler evening. The story of the sage and the student reminded me to savor the mayhem as much as I savor the times of solitude. They all add up to a well-rounded life.

And, while a little late to the advent party, it’s my intention to celebrate this holiday by emanating the faith, hope, peace, love and joy for which the Christian Advent calendar was meant.

Now to gargle with that salt water. Lest I use up the free world’s supply of tissue for the sinus bug I seem to be hosting.

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?