Author: bondjanet

IMAGINE

“Vision without action is merely a dream. Action without vision just passes the time. Vision with action can change the world.”

(James Christensen, The Art of James Christensen: A Journey of the Imagination)

One of the things that has occurred to me in the process of recovering from surgery is a need for some kind of creative stimulation, something engrossing that can help pass the time I’d normally be spending in more outgoing, physical activities. Sadly, I’ve spent too much of this precious “down time” binge-watching Jack Ryan, and then trying to erase that gratuitious violence with episodes of “Young Sheldon” and/or “Frasier” reruns.

I am well aware how toxic it can be to feed my imagination such disturbing images as often witnessed on TV, or described in the books I’m reading. (NB Thanks to “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” I now scrupulously read reviews and download samples/trailers before committing to any book or film that might give me nightmares for weeks). This strategy is not a case of sticking my head in the sand and avoiding anything controversial or unsettling. Rather it’s a matter of using my inner resources, in this case my imagination, to the best possible advantage.

As to cultivating imagination, I once gave a workshop in which I asked participants to write down any pressing issue, obstacle or problem they’d brought with them to the workshop. Then, after a time of spiritual practice or quiet reflection, I posed the question: “If it didn’t have to be this way, how else could it be?” (This is also useful in dealing with problematic habits like procrastination — which is why I’m “cramming” to finish this blog before midnight on Monday). The point is, we often create a self-fulfilling prophesy by telling ourselves why things have to remain the same: “I can’t change X,Y,Z because of A,B,C!”

In some cases this is indisputably true. But not all. And probably not even most of the situations in which we feel stymied and/or incomplete. If we genuinely wish to make changes in our lives, (vs blaming and complaining) we need to at least suspend this belief about how things have to be, and recruit two of our most powerful tools: the power of choice and the power of imagination. Rather than accepting something as a necessary evil, say watching the evening news, I can choose to engage in any number of more constructive activities that will better prepare me for a peaceful night’s sleep. Researchers tell us that what we see or hear just prior to bed is apt to both seed our dreams and influence the next day’s mood.

Despite having created some helpful bedtime routines, and starting my day with practices designed for balance and equanimity, I am not impervious to the bombardment of information that Swami Radha describes below, in Kundalini Yoga for the West;

“The complexity of life has become such that one becomes either panicky or lethargic. In the latter case, the attitude of “It doesn’t matter anyway” may act as a key sentence in the mind and, through its unaware repetition, may achieve an almost hypnotic effect. Once settled in the mind, it is kept alive by emotions that can be both desperate and depressive. If violence is not one’s nature, resignation to life seems the only way. The natural life rhythm simply cannot absorb the constant impact of news, television and urban living, combined with the many power struggles that are outside the domain of an individual’s control.”

I refuse to buckle to either hypnotic suggestion or desperation/depression. Instead, I have begun a practice of listing what is currently disturbing me, and, after quiet reflection, asking myself how else it could be. When I hear stories of cruelty, corruption, hatred or greed I enlist the opposite of these behaviors, thus substituting gentleness for cruelty, honesty for corruption, loving kindness for hatred, and generosity for greed. Every day presents myriad opportunities to embody these and many more positive qualities. As Swami Radha would say:

“It’s up to each of us to develop a balanced, healthy diet for the imagination, a taste for quality and compassion, that can then manifest and help create the kind of world we want to live in.”

The power of choice emboldens me to co-create the change I wish to see in the world today. Besides, I can still eat popcorn without having to watch TV or movies…

TENACITY

“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you…” (from If, by Rudyard Kipling)

The above quote from Kipling’s famous poem comes to mind as I watch all manner of palm fronds tossing crazily around the property like people losing their heads. Even though I sit in the protection of our main hale and have the luxury of watching these phenomenal winds from a safe distance, something of the disturbance in the atmosphere has upset my own equilibrium.

The other day the roar of the ocean was sufficient to draw us out, bowl of popcorn in hand, (wisely covered by a towel to weigh it down) and propel us to what we hoped might be a sheltered place at the beach to witness nature’s power and majesty. We found that tenuous shelter in the lee of a large ironwood tree, from which base we could view one hundred and eighty degrees of ocean fury, great white plumes erupting as wave after wave crashed into the reef and sea wall along Kuki’o Bay, and south to Kikaua and other tempestuous bays.

While, of course, I have the option to remain indoors when the natural world is deemed inhospitable, I don’t have such a ready escape from the realities that buffet mind and spirit on a regular basis. I’m always surprised that buffoons in high places can find willing henchmen to satisfy their foolish whims. Much of what I hear and read beggars belief. While it’s true that BS baffles brains, it must be equally true that stupidity begets stupidity, attracting and multiplying itself like the heads of Hydra.

What prompted this rant was a dispatch I recently received from a friend in Jerusalem, detailing the history of violence against the Jewish race, and which has revived its ugly head in the form of fresh aggression and rising anti-semitism.

I’m not suggesting that I know enough to have an opinion about world affairs. Certainly I’m not seeing much to convince me that we’re not all going to Hades in a hand basket. The furious winds that are literally raging around me seem like dramatic foreshadowing, and I wrack my brain for something positive to hang on to. Hence the reference to If. And a further reference to Willian Ernest Henley’s Invictus, the poem that carried Nelson Mandela through his darkest hours imprisoned on Robben Island:

“Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

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

As for Robben Island, although it is most famous for being the site of Madiba’s (Mandela’s) imprisonment, the island is a microcosm of Cape Town’s [and arguably our own] social and natural history. Today, it is a profound reminder of the brutality that was apartheid, but also a reminder of the tenacity of the human spirit and the resilience of nature.

As a bulwark against cynicism and despair, I mentally transpose Mandela’s ultimate triumph onto all the struggling tribes, nations and individuals I’m hearing about today. Like Mandela, stubbornly holding out hope in the face of all this daunting information. Clearly Henley and Kipling experienced their own dark night of the soul, and shared their struggles, as do poets and even pop singers today, to inspire others with their messages of optimism and bravery. Reaching beyond their individual experiences to express what is intrinsically human — the struggle between good and evil, selfishness or self-less-ness. Obstinately clinging to the belief that small acts of kindness and compassion will ultimately prevail.

Who am I to disagree?

FAITH

“Be faithful to that which exists within yourself.”(André Gide)

The other morning I watched what I thought was a frog bobbing around in the flower bed. Before long I realized it was a tiny earth-coloured bird, clumsy and almost flightless. After observing its attempts to fly, I got the sense that it had fledged too early, and it’s likelihood of survival, especially in a garden frequented by feral cats, was discouragingly low. And thus commenced the perennial human dilemma, do I intervene in some way to increase the odds of survival, or let nature run its course?

I intervened.

I sprinkled a handful of ground chia seeds on the sidewalk nearby and checked periodically to see if it had been depleted. My spirits lifted when I saw that the seeds were almost gone, until I learned that my husband and current nurse-man/sherpa had swept them off the path.

Later, reading on the lanai, I observed the two parent birds hopping and chirping, demonstrating flying to their floundering chick. To no avail. Later, finding the chick huddled next to a table leg, I had Jim place a dish of water on the deck next to it. He kindly splashed some water on the ground to clue in our chick to the contents of the dish. Then we left for dinner and it was too dark to see the baby bird on our return.

I woke the next day reflecting on the necessities for survival. With the vulnerable chick in mind, the first words that came to mind were food and water, safety and shelter. So I decided if I found the chick again I would bring it inside our main hale, leaving the sliding glass doors open wide during the day, so the parents could still encourage their offspring, but where the cats wouldn’t be so bold as to enter. As of this writing, I have only heard various chirpings, but no sign of our baby bird. Would I dare to activate my plan if I were to find it again? If not, why wouldn’t I?

Well I did find it again. Or at least what remained of it. A small scattering of minute feathers told me all I needed to know. Then the recriminations started. I should have searched for it the night before. Could have better ensured it’s safety. Could have acted more decisively. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

The whole process showed me how I’ve elevated self- doubt and second-guessing to a fine art, one in which, regardless of what I choose, I’m damned if I don’t, and damned if I do. It’s not so significant that my dilemma be a matter of life and death, albeit a baby-bird-size one, as it is important to see how crippling indecision and self-doubt can be. To compound it with self-recrimination only adds insult to injury. How to break this vicious circle? As I was ruminating about this pattern a friend sent me the quote from André Gide:

“Be faithful to that which exists within yourself”.

If faith is the antidote to doubt then what exists within me that I might have faith in? My intuition? My inner wisdom? What happens when I can’t hear or don’t respond to intuition’s promptings? What is happening when I’m crippled with indecision?

To answer these questions I turned to a post by life coach Martha Beck: “How to Stay True to Yourself—No Matter Who You’re Talking To.” Beck writes that crippling indecision is often caused by looking to others for acceptance, approval or affirmation. Even if there’s nobody around! Being ruled by what others might think compels me to take on the role of two or more people: myself and whomever else I have internalized. It is fear, on some unconscious level, of making mistakes and being ostracized from the tribe that creates the endless loop of yes-no-maybe-so. Step one in getting out of this loop is choosing to believe in my own intrinsic value.

According to the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy:
“The intrinsic value of something is said to be the value that that thing has “in itself,” or “for its own sake,” or “as such,” or “in its own right.” Extrinsic value is value that is not intrinsic.”

The more value I place on extrinsic markers of success and acceptance (aka fame and fortune) and by which yardstick I compare myself and everyone else, I will lack faith in my innate worth as a person. And unfairly place people above or below me in an arbitrary hierarchy as unsound as a house of cards. Better I do unto others as poet Roy Croft wrote in his “I Love You” poem:

“I love you for
putting your hand into my heaped-up heart
And passing over all the foolish, weak things
that you can’t help dimly seeing there,
And for drawing out into the light
All the beautiful things
that no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find.”

Amor Vincit Omnia

BLOG 34

CURIOSITY

“This is a dream. I am free. I can change.”
(Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche)

As I begin this week’s blog, I shield myself from a fiercely windy Hawaiian morning in the relative shelter of the lanai. Across from me the soaked trunk of a coco palm, its crown cut off by the roofline, so resembles the leg of an elephant that it gets me thinking about these magnificent beasts (about which I know next to nothing). Because the theme for this week’s blog presented itself as ‘curiosity’ I became curious about elephants, and curious to know if they were known for having curiosity. This sparked a fascinating foray into elephant research and lore. So much so that I lost my original train of thought and got wrapped up in the ethics of keeping such known-to-be-highly-intelligent creatures in circuses, zoos and even sanctuaries.

The following quote brought my attention back on topic:

“One characteristic that is readily apparent with elephants—and with many other species—is that they can exude a wide variety of personalities. They can be bold or shy, laid-back or short-tempered, curious or afraid, and the list goes on.”

In fact, scientists are discovering that elephants are also creative problem solvers, they mourn their lost loved-ones, and are self aware:

“Self-awareness in both animals and young children is usually tested using the ‘mirror self-recognition test’ to see if they understand that the reflection in front of them is actually their own. Only a few species have so far shown themselves capable of self-recognition – great apes, dolphins, magpies and elephants.” (Cambridge University)

It’s humbling to contemplate just how smug we humans can be regarding our presumed emotional or intellectual superiority over the animal kingdom with which we share our origins. But, once aware of this tendency, we can use our mental capacities to adapt and change in ways that improve living conditions for a wide variety of life forms. Flexibility of thought combined with creative application of new insights and ideas are what give us our advantage over less evolved creatures. By constantly pushing out boundaries, humans have come from living in caves without plumbing or electricity to inventing the plethora of mod-cons that we take for granted today. From occupying a small plot of earth from cradle to grave, we have used modern technology to travel the globe and extend our reach even into outer space.

In this spirit of exploration and discovery I have begun studying Andrew Holecek’s Dream Yoga; Illuminating Your Life Through Lucid Dreaming and the Tibetan Yoga of Sleep that was casually given to me by a neighbor who somehow ended up with an extra copy. In this offhand way I received something that has more than piqued my curiosity, seeming to answer a question I had been asking as to the next steps on my evolutionary journey. My question had been: “If life is but a dream, how can I free myself from the illusions that I have mistaken for reality? How can I change my sense of self in essential and profound ways? Upon first perusal I read:

“This book is like a tour into your innermost self. As many guidebooks say, we’re going to leave familiar territory and journey into foreign lands. It takes an intrepid spirit to leave the comfortable and familiar and travel into the unknown, but as any seasoned world traveler knows, the moments of hassle and discomfort are worth it. You will return from this inner journey, just as you would any outer sojourn, a better and more worldly person. You will become infinitely more cosmopolitan because you will connect not just to the people you might meet in places like Istanbul or Delhi (if you were to venture out into the world), but to all people everywhere as you venture into a shared inner domain.”

What better time to take such a journey than when I am sentiently recovering from hip replacement surgery? As is my wont, I looked up ‘sentiently’ to make sure it was a word, and found the definition: “a way that shows that someone or something is conscious and able to experience feelings.

I had actually meant to use the word sedentary: “(of a person) tending to spend much time seated; somewhat inactive” but gravitate to ‘sentiently’ because it conveys my intention to use this fallow time to take stock of my life. To come to terms with the feelings of apathy, and thoughts of mortality that had lately taken up residence in my mind, circumscribed as it was by chronic pain and limited mobility.

As I’ve just begun reading, there’s little I can say about this new line of inquiry, but am encouraged by what I gleaned from the introduction:

“This inner journey may take you temporarily out of the comfort zone of your familiar home in the gross mind and outer body, but it will eventually deliver you to your true home in the center of yourself, and the bed of mind that you share with all sentient beings. Then you might arise from this bed and come back from this inner journey to re-inhabit your outer forms, and your everyday life, with the newfound treasures you have discovered within. And perhaps, just like the masters of old, you will then offer these riches to others and invite them to do the same.”

Heigh ho, heigh ho, it’s off to dream yoga I go…

“THE GUEST HOUSE

“This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.”

— Jellaludin Rumi

Today is Sunday, and normally, on a Sunday I would have a blog under way, or at least an idea of a blog that could be sent off on Monday. But I am not at that place. And I’m not there because pain has zapped all of my energy, and pain meds — taken or not taken — have put me in a fugue mood, which I will now have to look up to see if it means what I think it does.

It doesn’t.

“Mental health professionals can diagnose dissociative fugue disorder using the DSM, or Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. The symptoms are: sudden travel with the inability to recall one’s past and confusion about one’s identity. If these symptoms are causing distress or impairment, and cannot be explained by another condition, it is a fugue state.”

Well, there goes that approach; I’m not in a fugue state. ‘Funk’ might sum it up, but fugue has an appealing sort of onomatopoeia about it. Fugue just naturally bleakens one’s mood. It’s a sludgy-molasses-in-January sort of word that I’m thinking suits me perfectly this early evening. It’s not a state of mind that I’m willing to entertain very often, or for very long. But this funky-wannabe-fugue mood has a place in Rumi’s teachings, and that’s a compelling enough reason to bring in into the room, as they say:

“The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.”

So how does one greet the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that occasionally come calling? How does one incorporate or embrace pain? And how might having my mental furniture, my thoughts, opinions and constructs ‘swept away’ serve my greater well-being? To me, the answer is simple. Know thyself.

I cannot imagine a more important reason to know and master myself than to discern when my thoughts are not my own. Whether they be chemically-induced or brought on by a steady diet of other people’s opinions and beliefs, I need the self-awareness and strength of character to separate these external influences from my authentic thoughts and ideas. That’s what the Buddha meant by: “…after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it.”

In last week’s blog I asked “Is there some way to reframe our worldview to include the good, the bad and the ugly that we cannot avoid witnessing? Without becoming cynical and fatalistic, discouraged and defeated? If the point is not to reshape the world to comply with our cherished ideals, in what way might we reshape our minds to embrace the world as it is, and find a purposeful way to exist within it?”

Simply by observing my mind I could recognize the thoughts that were as unwelcome as they were improbable: my Apple Watch was, in all likelihood, not gaslighting me, and my carpet was not deliberately trying to trip my walker. My bath towel was not intentionally trying to sprain my wrist by snagging on the hook, and finding the toilet seat down in the middle of the night was not some kind of evil conspiracy.

It’s easier to spot the ridiculous thoughts than the subtle self-sabotage that says the nurse, surgeon, physiotherapist, receptionist etc. don’t know what they’re talking about. And then give myself permission to act contrary to my best interests. My greatest hedge against that happening is to maintain a consistent spiritual practice. To clear my mind with mantra and/or centering breath work. To observe the inner narrative first in my journal, before giving any power to it.

Then, I can eat a Justin’s dark organic chocolate peanut butter cup and vow that tomorrow will be a different day.

Amen

WELTSCHMERZ (World Sorrow)

“You said one could be deformed by this country, and yet it seems to me one can only be deformed by the things one does to oneself. It’s not the outside things that deform you, it’s the choices you make. To live anywhere in the world, you must know how to live in Africa. The only thing you can do is love, because it is the only thing that leaves light inside you, instead of the total, obliterating darkness.” (Criena Alcock in My Traitor’s Heart, by Rian Malan)

Wikipedia defines Welt (world) schmerz (pain) as a combination of sadness brought on by witnessing the evils of the world; and the suffering brought on when reality falls far short of one’s standards, expectations or ideals.

In essence these are the same thing, but they differ in degree. It’s undeniable that there exists in the world death, disease, hatred, cruelty, injustice, poverty, and countless other evils. This fact alone can swamp a person in confusion and sorrow. But to experience true Weltschmerz one must be under the illusion that this is NOT how the world is supposed to be. This suggests that somewhere in our collective or individual imagination there “exists” a world that has never actually been. The pundit Travis McGee describes Weltschmerz as “homesickness for a place you have never seen”.

There must be some perceived advantage to this belief, or it wouldn’t be held by so many people. Nonetheless, it needs to be more thoroughly examined to discern whether or not it continues to serve a useful purpose.

From whence do we get our illusions or beliefs? Is there some way to reframe our worldview to include the good, the bad and the ugly that we cannot avoid witnessing? Without becoming cynical and fatalistic, discouraged and defeated? If the point is not to reshape the world to comply with our cherished ideals, in what way might we reshape our minds to embrace the world as it is, and find a purposeful way to exist within it?

In the closing section of his book My Traitor’s Heart, Malan visits a White woman named Creina Alcock, whose life shines like a beacon of hope in a strange and complicated land. Alcock lived on the border of Msinga, a tribal homeland, where she and her husband struggled to build a sustainable rural development project among the local black communities. When Alcock was widowed after her husband was murdered while trying to negotiate peace talks during a tribal disturbance, Criena was pressured by friends and family to abandon the project.

With ample reason to give up on Africa, and humanity in general, Criena instead chose what she called the way of love:

“I felt utterly betrayed by loving. All the things I had ever been told about love just weren’t true. It was all full of false promises. I understood that love was a safety and a protection, and that if you loved you would be rewarded by someone loving you back, or at least not wanting to damage you. But it wasn’t true, any of it. I knew that if I stayed, this was how it was going to be: It would never get any better; it would stay the same, or get worse. I thought, If you’re really going to live in Africa, you have to be able to look at it and say, This is the way of love, down this road: Look at it hard. This is where it is going to lead you.”

Malan, an investigative journalist, chose to focus on Alcock in the closing section of his book in order to shed a glimmer of hope on what otherwise reads like an apocalyptic inevitability. It’s also a cautionary tale for those of us living outside Africa.

Watching TV or reading print media, I too fear that the world is careening towards the obliteration of which Alcock is speaking. So I ask myself: What can I do to reverse this trajectory? What can anyone do to bring about a peaceful resolution? While there’s much to address on so many national and international levels, I can think of no better place to start than in my own back yard. And, thanks to my impending hip surgery, I’ve experienced first-hand the kind of love and care for one’s neighbors (read Aloha and Ohana) that Alcock is talking about.

I can honestly say I’ve never experienced such an outpouring of well-wishes nor such genuine offers of help. Which tells me that love goes both ways — in Alcock’s case, it’s about persistence and forgiveness when our best efforts are met with resistance or rejection. And it’s about loving our neighbors and lending a helping hand in times of need. It’s the strength of conviction that every act, no matter how small, truly matters. And it’s gratitude for all the large and small gestures of Aloha that have come my way. All that remains is to pay it forward, with interest.

“E lei kau, e lei ho’oilo
I ke aloha.”

“Aloha is everlasting,
Worn like a lei throughout all seasons.”

ACCEPTANCE IS KEY

“Think of people like flowers. Roses are beautiful, but they have thorns. You have to be very careful before you touch thistles, but even weeds are healing plants.” (Swami Sivananda Radha Time to be Holy)

Lately I have made myself homesick by using a screen saver app that posts a random selection of people from my photo archives, some that go quite far back in time. This morning I was treated to a candid photo from several years ago, featuring a young grandson in a rather hostile pose. Normally I try to preserve the happy-face photos that one sees on family holiday greetings, but I’ve taken so many of the grandkiddies that some of them will inevitably be captured in boredom, anger or simply a goofy mood. (One such photo features a grandchild rolling his eyes back as if having a seizure, which creeps me out whenever I see it, but it’s hard to find and delete the actual image).

Many of the photos remind me of our now teenaged grandkids at a time when they were sweet and cuddly and virtually worshipped their grandfather and me. And when they never thought to lip me off! Seeing such before-and-after photos of our grandkids reminds me that whatever stage they’re now in will also, inevitably, pass. This makes it easier to forbear when one or two of them are being royal pains in the…tuchus.

A word closely related to forbearance is acceptance, and in it’s more sublime form, we have equanimity. Perhaps these are sequential steps along the evolutionary journey. Forbearance implies a stoic, stiff-upper-lip attitude that is only apt to hold for so long. When something comes along to trigger that pent-up frustration, anger or resentment, we risk blowing up at some relatively innocent “victim”. It’s called taking hostages. In fact, I gave someone a taste of that today, sad to say.

Having the humility and self-awareness to accept these irritations as necessary to my spiritual growth can be a bitter pill to swallow. When one can say “thank-you” for such unsolicited (read unwelcome) sources of learning, one will have come a long way towards self-mastery. Which is the point of leading an examined life.

In her chapter titled “Getting (I typoed “Gritting”) Along With Others” in Time to be Holy, Swami Radha offers the following:

“There really isn’t anything or anyone absolutely bad or negative, and nobody benefits from your effort to understand that, except you. It helps to remember that each one of us is not an island, and that we have our seasons, and our ups and downs. Life is not just a straight line. It’s a wave. Sometimes you are on top of the wave, sometimes you have to go to the bottom, and then you have to make sure you have enough momentum to come up again on the other side.”

In an ideal world, forbearance evolves into acceptance and acceptance evolves into the more steady state of balance and harmony that I associate with equanimity. Conversely, the degree to which I can maintain a state of equanimity is a measure of how far I have come in accepting myself and others.

In Sharon Salzberg’s Lovingkindness: the Revolutionary Art of Happiness, equanimity is said to be the most essential of the four brahma viharas or “sublime states of mind” to which Buddhist seekers aspire. The first three virtues consist of metta (gentle friendship), sympathetic joy (celebrating the good fortune of others), and compassion (walking with others through their sorrows); while the fourth, equanimity, is described as a “spacious stillness of the mind, a radiant calm that allows us to be present fully with all the different changing experiences that comprise our world and our lives.”

Equanimity is something I aspire to but am a long way from making a steady state, so today I’m setting my mental compass on ‘acceptance’. With my word of intention for 2024 being ‘trust’, I am doubly equipped to deal with the hiccups that presented themselves this week, as furniture that was ordered months ago finally arrived but was the wrong quantity, colour, shape and size. Perfect, I thought! I can accept that this too shall pass, and trust that we can rectify this first world problem. Would I prefer not to have to do that. Absolutely. But personal growth is about dealing with the situation in which I find myself and doing my best to problem-solve and move on, without blowing up or taking hostages.

If life were always easy there’d be no need to work on myself, no incentive to evolve at all. Difficulties and dissonances are catalysts for leading an examined life. As Swami Radha asks:

“Can you put yourself on a course of evolution and cooperate with it, not leaving it to chance – wondering, will it work, will it not work? Can you take matters into your own hands and direct your life so that you can say, “Living is a particular art and I have made the best of it.”?”

Can I? It’s worth a try!

January 8, 2024

TRUST

“To move on to your next phase, you need to shift from the outer guru to the inner guru, or what Jesus called “the kingdom of God within.” It means quieting the emotions and really listening. When you need the guidance most, it is available – but you have to look for it.” (Swami Sivananda Radha: yoga a path to awareness)

The day after a very low-key New Year’s Eve (a glass of bubbly at a neighbor’s, followed by bed at 10:30 with a grand-dog burrowed between us, quaking with fireworks fright) I was reminded that I hadn’t yet committed to a “word of intention” for 2024.

In a pre-Christmas meeting some friends and I pondered this suggestion of choosing a word of intention, something that would succinctly remind us of a quality we wished to cultivate in 2024. At the time I chose the word “trust”. I had so much going on and so little control or certainty that the best I could do was trust it would all work out.

Then I promptly forgot all about it.

But no matter, for when someone asked me how our holidays went, I replied that I felt lucky not to have been run over by the moving train that I had set in motion with my pre-Christmas ambitions. Maybe a better metaphor would be that of riding a wave that miraculously didn’t break and smash me on a reef. The wave was one of trusting that my motivations were pure and my intentions sincere: I just did what my heart compelled me to do. In some ways it felt like a wild ride because my usual control-oriented patterns were suspended and I led with a kind of trust that has been inhibited for much of my life.

My previous and long-standing M.O. was to operate from a risk-averse place of needing to assess any negative consequences and/or anticipate what could possibly go wrong. Some call that paralysis by analysis. It’s a surefire way to stay mired in indecision and second-guessing. As Goethe wrote (and I’m so fond of quoting):

“Until one is committed, there is always hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too.”

In my case, the commitment I made in November to “trust”, (despite having let it slip my mind) worked its way deep into my psyche, so that I acted on it spontaneously, somehow circumventing the gatekeeper of my risk-averse ego and simply riding the flow that I couldn’t predict or control. Swami Radha would call it cooperating with my evolution of consciousness:

“Once you see the tremendous opportunity that life gives you to cooperate with the law of spiritual evolution, you will want to increase your efforts in personal development. Divine law has a specific application for each individual, suited to the karmic situations of our unique paths, but the overall purpose of life is the same for everyone. If you accept the challenge of evolution of consciousness, you will find that you have much greater equanimity to face whatever life offers. The option is always open to either cooperate with evolution or to resist the divine plan. If you make the choice to cooperate, you will undoubtedly experience increased peace and happiness.”

Over the holidays I did experience increased peace and happiness over years past, and much of that is due to having trusted my inner guru, my heart.

Otherwise, there is simply too great an array of external authorities offering advice about how to lead my life.

A sampling: “”Ego Death: Restore Your True Self-Identity”; “Change your mindset, change the game”; “Breathe to Heal”; “How to protect your brain from stress”; “Test your might! Shaolin spirit”; Quantum physics for 7 year olds”. And that’s only part of a YouTube page. It’s a smorgasbord that gives me a stomach ache even before attempting to ingest any of it.

This “indigestion” is as good a reason as any to build trust in my own authority. And NOT because I’ve done years of study and practice. Much of that was just a distraction, driven by a need to excel at something. That’s not what you need to be your own authority. To be your own authority takes courage and conviction, the belief that the wisdom and guidance one needs is within and can be accessed by quieting the emotions and really listening. Right now. Right where you are.

Of course this is ironic because here I am blogging, offering suggestions about leading an examined life, giving my ego a boost when I hear back from one of you. But all of it is in hopes of your finding your inner guru, to assure you that cooperating with your evolution of consciousness is worth it.

As T.S. Eliot said: “…and the end of all our searching will be to arrive where we started, and know the place for the first time”.

Whatever your word of intention, my wish is for you to become your own authority, discover your inner wisdom and divinity, and set an example for other people.

Jan. 1, 2024

RISK

“The person who risks nothing does nothing, has nothing. All we know about the future is that it will be different, but perhaps what we fear is that it will be the same. So we must celebrate the changes because as someone once said, everything will be alright in the end, and if it’s not alright, then trust me, it’s not yet the end.” (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel)

As New Year’s Day approaches I weigh the risks involved in answering a dare to polar plunge in Green Lake with my son and various other family members. This should not be too intimidating. I’ve already plunged in the ocean a few times since returning to B.C., with the difference being a pool, hot tub, steam room, and hot drinks a few steps away. Unless we break a hole through the albeit thin ice in front of the lake cabin, this adventure requires a drive to where we last saw open water, which will at least be a walk of some distance from where we park the car. That, for me, will be the hardest part. Because I’m already strategizing how to answer this challenge, I know I will inevitably go. Which may be why the above quote stood out for me.

I’d been looking through my notes for a quote by Hillevi Ruumet, a transpersonal anthropologist and professor at ITP, now Sophia University, whose work on the evolution of consciousness has had a lasting impact on me. But, as is often the case, what I’d recorded about risk, from Marigold Hotel, is not unrelated to what drew me to Ruumet this particular morning.

In her model of psycho-spiritual development, Ruumet uses the chakra system to describe the various stages a human attains to in order, ideally, to fulfill their evolutionary potential.

In explaining what she calls the “Spiral Dance” Ruumet outlines several stages that build on both horizontal (psychological) and vertical (spiritual) growth and integration. Think of a seven or eight story building that fans outwards and upwards from a central core with differing tasks associated with each “floor”.

In her chapter on “Evolution and Maya” Swami Radha expands on this theme:

“THERE IS A DISPARITY in the evolution of consciousness in human beings. Groups of people develop at different rates, side by side. There are on earth right now some people who have still not developed a written language. Yet there were people living in the Middle East thousands of years ago who wrote works which later became part of the Bible’s Book of Proverbs. They were people with very high ideals and insights on how to conduct life and how to take care of other human beings less fortunate in their grasp and intelligence.”

For those of us who have the luxury of time and/or inclination to devote to our personal growth, there is also an unspoken imperative to do so. As much as we have a duty to secure our socio-economic futures, we have an equal responsibility to fulfill our psycho-spiritual potential, in order to care for other, less fortunate beings. I know from experience how intimidating real personal growth can be. Confronting our illusions is hard, as is cleaning up our karmic back yard. Once we have achieved a certain degree of material comfort and financial stability it is tempting to stay with the devil we know even if, in some vague way, we sense we’re missing something vital to a full “360 degree” life.

Ruumet offer this insight:

“There can be no happiness in staying at a stage we have outgrown, because a part of us always remembers what we were really called to do, and failed transitions can be tragic, even lethal. The depression that often accompanies such a failure in someone who has clearly been called to the next stage but refused it (often for “sensible” reasons) can manifest across a whole range of psychopathology, have personal and career consequences, and cause “soul loss”. We must keep growing or, as Jung suggested, we risk becoming caricatures of ourselves.”

I have built my spiritual house, such as it is, over decades of daring to face my own demons (which frankly don’t seem to get any less, so much as just different) and in doing so I’m building spiritual resilience in the same way I’ve built physical resilience by regularly dipping into the frigid Pacific. And now Green Lake! For the past couple of nights my three sons, a daughter-in-law and I have made our way down to the dock and gingerly climbed off into the glacier-fed water.

No Wim Hof’s us, we were nonetheless chuffed to have done it, not so much for bragging rights (though I did get the record for number of dunks, three) but for the sake of pushing beyond our limits, our fear of the dark and the unknown. Not to mention the cold! Which is also why I lead an examined life. I know from experience that there is always more to explore, and each small victory over some bad habit or each way that I add value to someone else’s life is its own reward. And taking calculated risks is the only effective way forward.

As Anais Nin wrote: “And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

Is today your day?

CHARISMA

charisma (n.)
1875, “a special spiritual gift or power divinely conferred, talent from God” (as on the early Christians in “Acts,” etc.), Latinized form of Greek kharisma “favor, divine gift,” from kharizesthai “to show favor to,” from kharis “grace, beauty, kindness”.

“The meaning “gift of leadership, power of authority” is from c. 1930, from German, used in this sense by Max Weber (1864-1920) in “Wirtschaft u. Gesellschaft” (1922). The more mundane sense of “personal charm” recorded by 1959.” (Wikipedia)

The other night I attended a high school holiday concert consisting of various band and vocal performances, and featuring the usual range from sullen teens barely moving their lips, to those outstanding few who were fully invested in what they were doing. Despite wanting to be democratic in my attention span, I was consistently drawn to one or two performers who stood out by the gusto with which they played their instruments, or projected not only their voices but something of their personalities. The word “charisma” came to mind. Despite their awkward teenaged bodies, and probable social anxieties, there were certain students who consistently drew my gaze with their beaming smiles and utter lack of guile. I wanted to hug them, or better yet, swaddle them in bubble wrap. I wanted to protect them from the petulant miasma of their peers. And from an adult world that would judge them by other, soulless criteria.

But another thought superseded this negative assessment and shifted my perspective a hundred and eighty degrees. I suddenly realized that I was not there to watch Mr. or Ms. High School Popularity perform for posterity, but rather to witness a precious few who seemed impervious to what their peer group considered cool. And who, by their very resilience, had the future potential to become powerful leaders and influential teachers.

This reflection on resilience and imperviousness brought to mind the lotus, a plant that has, since ancient times, featured prominently in the yogic teachings.

Considered one of the most sacred plants in the world, the lotus is a perennial, aquatic specimen that has a daily-life cycle like no other plant. The ultimate light-worshipper, the lotus roots itself in the muddy bottom of still or slow moving water, its lengthy stem reaching through the aqueous gloom to the surface, where it emerges in a starburst of exuberant bloom. Thanks to a protective outer coating that repels dirt and water, these day-blooming plants close and submerge at night, only to re-emerge, gleaming and pristine, with bright morning sunlight.

Symbolically speaking, because the lotus rises from the murky water without stains, it is often viewed as a symbol of purity, as well as strength, resilience and rebirth. Yet another association with the lotus is transcendence: it represents the transcending of man’s spirit over worldly matter, since it rises from the underworld into the light. And therein lies the thread (dare I say stem) that connects the choir, charisma and the lotus.

I ask myself what special qualities, grace or gift might these few students possess in order to make such a touching impression? How to define their unique appeal, the je ne sais quoi that drew my attention to them, time and time again? And what special sauce makes them impervious to other people’s actions or thoughts? What makes up the protective outer coating that, as for the lotus, repels figurative dirt and water? And finally, how am I to protect myself, not only from such external “slings and arrows” but also from inner thoughts that wander down crooked emotional paths and psychological dark alleys?

Can one cultivate charisma? Or is it a divinely conferred spiritual gift, talent or power that is forever out of reach of mere mortals like me? When I think of the students who impressed me at the concert, I imagine that they came by their skills through a combination of innate talent, practice and training. But their appeal had more to do with who they were as humans, their courage and commitment. Their capacity for joy and humility. And for not taking themselves too seriously.

I can’t much carry a tune, and was a dismal ukulele player, but I believe I can, inspired by these outstanding student examples, make the best of what God, and my gene pool gave me. Which today means diving whole-heartedly into our chaotic and excessive family Christmas gathering. Celebrating the gift of exuberant grandchildren. Patiently catching the crickets that escape from the bearded dragon’s cage. Passing around the expensive but slightly bent chocolates that were inadvertently melted over the heating vent. Working around a dog that lies in the middle of the kitchen when we’re trying to make dinner. Biting my tongue when tempted to tell others how things should be done. And praying for the resilience to count my blessings as we spend the next week cleaning up the mess.

Ad Lucem.