A yogini at large

June 27, 2023

“The dawn of the Great Eastern Sun is based on actual experience. It is not a concept. You realize that you can uplift yourself, that you can appreciate your existence as a human being. Whether you are a gas station attendant or the president of your country doesn’t really matter.” (Trungpa 1984)

Sunrise Vision vs Sunset Mind

At breakfast the other day I asked my friend a question that I gleaned from reading Walt Whitman, who asked his friends: “What has become clear to you since last we met?” It cuts through some of the shallower stuff we can get preoccupied by, and strikes me as a better use of our precious, shared time.

Her answer didn’t surprise me. She expressed disenchantment with her fellow humans, having too often encountered what Trungpa would describe as the setting sun mind: a self-serving attitude that lacks honesty, reliability and/or integrity. In essence, this mindset has its roots in fear, first and foremost of death, and secondly, of pain in its many iterations. Much human behavior stems from attempts to avoid this basic truth: death and suffering are intrinsic to human existence. In other words, you’re going to feel bad, sad, angry, lonely, alienated and frightened etc some of the time.

As I understand it, having sunrise vision means having the courage and willingness to directly acknowledge and embrace what one sees and feels, whereas the sunset mind is fearful and strives to avoid or escape these realities.

This begs the question “How does one cultivate courage?”. If nothing else, one has to exercise one’s power of choice, which is so often lost in the heat of knee-jerk emotional reactions.

Trungpa has this to offer

 "We can give in to our fear and anxiety, or we can surrender to this great mystery with courage. When we see people on a roller coaster, we see that there are those with their faces tight with fear and then there are those that smile broadly, with their hands in the air, carried through the ride on a wave of freedom and joy. This powerful image reminds us that often the only control we have is choosing how we are going to respond to the ride.

 "There are, of course, constant challenges, but the sense of challenge is quite different from the setting-sun feeling that you are condemned to your world and your problems. Occasionally people are frightened by this vision of the Great Eastern Sun. Not knowing the nature of fear, of course, you cannot go beyond it. But once you know your cowardice, once you know where the stumbling block is, you can climb over it—maybe just three and a half steps.”

To help you climb over, I offer a walking meditation that serves to calm and synchronize body and mind.

Choose a spot where you have room to walk without obstacles. Stand in a relaxed but erect posture, with your hands gently cupped, palms up, fingertips touching lightly, and held level with your navel (the navel in shakti yoga is the location of the third chakra, the seat of the emotions). From this position slowly raise your palms up to the center of your chest, approximately level with your physical heart. Slowly describe a circle by moving the hands forward and down to the navel, then scooping them back up to the heart center. Continue this circular motion – arms widening as you reach forward and then narrowing at the navel – while repeating the affirmation: I am functioning from my heart center, I am functioning from my heart center…” as you let your feet choose a meandering route. Do this for a few minutes and then return to your journal.

The scooping motion is symbolic of raising your troubled emotions to the level of love, compassion, patience and understanding that are associated with the spiritual heart center. As you spread your arms in front of you think of expanding your sense of things, dissipating whatever darkness your mind is harboring (the setting sun’s dread and despair) as you come back to the best that you would offer yourself or anyone else.

Take a few minutes to sit quietly absorbing the effects of the practice, then note in your journal any insights or shifts in perspective that arise in this quiet, reflective time. Repeat the practice, if only by saying the affirmation in your mind, whenever you find yourself sinking into the darkness of the setting sun mentality. As the Buddhists say, pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.

You have the power to choose, to move. Even three and a half steps are great progress.

Besides, what have you got to lose?

SUNRISE MIND

“The way of cowardice is to embed ourselves in a cocoon, in which we perpetuate our habitual patterns. When we are constantly re-creating our basic patterns of behavior and thought, we never have to leap into fresh air or onto fresh ground.” (Chögyam Trungpa, 1984)

Lately the temptation to crawl into a cocoon has been all too compelling for me. I’m hoping you can identify with such times as make one want to crawl under a rock or escape to a desert island, or whatever metaphor floats your boat!

Whether or not this urge is familiar to you, I am fairly certain we all have times when our coping skills don’t rise to the challenge in a way that would make us proud. As Trungpa put it earlier: “If you feel bad when you come home because you had a hard day at the office, you can tell the truth about that: you feel bad. Then you don’t have to try to shake off your pain by throwing it around your living room.”

Well, the other day I threw it around the living room. And splattered a few innocent bystanders while I was at it.

I perpetuated a pattern of thought and behavior that no longer serves me. But there was a silver lining to seeing the mess it left, to stepping back, reflecting on how things got that way, and discerning what needed to change. Trungpa would call that cleaning up our world:

“In this world there are always possibilities of original purity, because the world is clean to begin with. Dirt never comes first, at all. For example, when you buy new towels, they don’t have any dirt on them. Then, as you use them, they become dirty. But you can always wash them and return them to their original state. In the same way, our entire physical and psychological existence and the world that we know—our sky, our earth, our houses, everything we have—was and is originally clean. But then we begin to smear the situation with our conflicting emotions. Still, fundamentally speaking, our existence is all good, and it is all launderable. That is what we mean by basic goodness: the pure ground that is always there, waiting to be cleaned by us. We can always return to that primordial ground. That is the logic of the Great Eastern Sun.”

In contrast to Trungpa’s “setting sun world” — a closed loop of conditioned actions and reactions that create and perpetuate our problems — his rising sun vision is one of original purity. Other spiritual writers would perhaps refer to it as our soul or essence, over which is built up a lifelong dross of misunderstandings and coping mechanisms that Trungpa would have us scrape away in order to embody the pure gold that remains.

Put more simply, we can enact our desire to purify our minds (however vague and theoretical that sounds) by taking a very practical approach to cleaning up our surroundings. I call this cleaning up my own back yard. Whatever I do, literally, towards home maintenance and improvement, can be seen symbolically as a desire to clean up my karma, my thoughts and actions, and the effects of these on the people around me. Same with my physical appearance. I can develop habits of dress and personal hygiene that reflect both my self-discipline and the integrity of my beliefs. Beliefs that what I think and feel, say and do are either part of the problem or part of the solution. In order to discern which is which, I apply a method that was given to me long ago.

Generating a calm, receptive state with a simple centering meditation (as described in blog 4) I ask these questions:

What is the core issue here?
What am I contributing to the problem, and how can I change it?
What am I contributing to the solution, and how can I keep doing it?
Protect me from the problem, because I’m in it.
And I surrender it now.

I then spend time reflecting in my journal about the possible causes and solutions to the problem in question. Following that I surrender these musing to whatever higher intelligence is available to me (what I call my divine committee) and get on with my day. Throughout the day I then hold the thought gently that I want to see what’s really happening. At day’s end I go back to this reflection and see if anything has come clear to me.

By applying Trungpa’s advice to “perceive the world directly” and “see on the spot with wakefulness” I begin to see beyond my personal opinions and priorities to a much bigger picture. Granted it can come as a shock to register my relative insignificance in this bigger picture, but it also deprives my ego of thinking I’m the center of the universe.

The beginning of spiritual warriorship is marked by this profound shift in focus from a “me-centered” attitude to a “we-centered” reality. The reality that it’s NOT.ABOUT.ME. Needless to say, no offense, but it’s not about you either. It’s about all of us, working separately and together, to clean up the mess.

June 12, 2023

BE.HERE.NOW.

“Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.”

“Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring” by Wu-Men, The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. © Harper Perennial, 1993.

Years ago, at a yoga retreat, we were given an exercise which effected me profoundly. It came back to me today as I sat outdoors in a sheltered, sunny spot watching the world go by. The exercise we were given at the ashram was broken into four parts. We were first asked to reflect on what we would do if we only had a year to live. We then went off for an hour or so to ponder that question. After writing about a hundred things I wanted to do with the time I had left, I returned to the classroom and was asked to reflect on what I would do with six months to live. In the next hour I whittled my list down to half. Following that the class was given a week to live. My list consisted of writing letters to special people in my life. Maybe the odd phone call. Thereafter our final assignment was to choose what we would do with one hour to live. Shelving all my hasty plans, I walked around to the sheltered lee of an isolated cabin and sat in the sun, watching the light shimmer and dance on the waves of Kootenay Lake. Did not think, plan, scheme. Silently absorbed the sights and sounds, the smells and sensations of that quiet, peaceful space. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be. Simply bearing witness to my surroundings.

Reflecting on those “final” moments, I suddenly understood on a visceral level what Trungpa meant by basic goodness:

“When you experience the goodness of being alive, you can respect who and what you are. You need not be intimidated by lots of bills to pay, diapers to change, food to cook, or papers to be filed. Fundamentally, in spite of all those responsibilities, you begin to feel that it is a worthwhile situation to be a human being, to be alive, not afraid of death.”

According to Trungpa, a prerequisite to experiencing this goodness of being alive is meditation, which in turn is meant to synchronize body and mind. Meditation doesn’t come easily to me. At least not what I think meditation is supposed to be. Nor is it easy to explain in a blog. So I thought I’d take the memory of that peaceful hour by the lake and see if it fit Trungpa’s description.

“Synchronizing mind and body is looking and seeing directly beyond language. This is not because of a disrespect for language but because your internal dialogue becomes subconscious gossip. You develop your own poetry and daydreams; you develop your own swear words; and you begin to have conversations between you and yourself and your lover and your teacher—all in your mind. On the other hand, when you feel that you can afford to relax and perceive the world directly, then your vision can expand. You can see on the spot with wakefulness.”

Bearing witness to my surroundings at the ashram on Kootenay Lake, without my usual stream of internal chatter, is about as close as I’ve ever come to synchronizing mind and body. From that experience, I can suggest a beginner’s way to meditate:

Take a comfortable seat in a quiet corner of your home, in or out of doors. Start by spending five or ten minutes simply observing your surroundings. Just observing. What do you see, feel, hear? If your mind fixates on anything — maybe you see a cobweb you hadn’t noticed before and have an urge to clear it, or hear an ambulance screaming past and wonder what’s happened — just acknowledge that. Let it pass. You’ll get to that. For whatever length of time you decide to sit in silence, relax and perceive the world directly.

“In that way, synchronizing mind and body is also connected with developing fearlessness. By fearlessness, we do not mean that you are willing to jump off a cliff or to put your naked finger on a hot stove. Rather, here fearlessness means being able to respond accurately to the phenomenal world altogether. It simply means being accurate and absolutely direct in relating with the phenomenal world by means of your sense perceptions, your mind, and your sense of vision.”

To me, this translates as acknowledging my immediate experience of and engagement with my surroundings, with what’s happening in the here and now. Bringing my undivided attention to where I am, to what I am feeling and perceiving from moment to moment. Bringing full awareness to what I and others are doing, and responding accordingly, if a response is called for. Fearlessly.

It means giving the inner narrator a break. Try it. You’ll thank me one day.

Blog 3
June 5, 2023

“As a man thinketh, so is he [or she, or them]”. (James Allen, among others…)

The logical sequence of this blog should follow what Trungpa is saying in Shambhala, which would mean a focus on both meditation and synchronizing mind and body. In fact, his approach to synchronizing mind and body is via meditation, so I should say a word about all that before I plunge into the topic that interests me today. But having used two “shoulds” in the first two sentences, I’m just going to dive in to something more relevant to me in the here and now. I figure if I can apply what I’m learning in my studies, I will be practicing what I preach. Otherwise, I might as well just tell you to buy the book. I’ll get back to the other stuff eventually, or you might get there ahead of me. No biggie.

So this is what I want to focus on:

“In working with ourselves, cleaning up begins by telling the truth. We have to shed any hesitation about being honest with ourselves because it might be unpleasant. If you feel bad when you come home because you had a hard day at the office, you can tell the truth about that: you feel bad. Then you don’t have to try to shake off your pain by throwing it around your living room. Instead, you can start to relax; you can be genuine at home. You can take a shower and put on fresh clothes and take some refreshment. You can change your shoes, go outside, and walk in your garden. Then, you might feel better. In fact, when you get close to the truth, you can tell the truth and feel great.” (Trungpa)

That well-describes my day yesterday. I came home saddled with various disappointments and frustrations that would normally be projected onto the people or things around me. But having just read the above, I took a page from Trungpa’s notebook and made up a charcuterie board, quickly hopped into the shower, put on clean clothes from top to toe, and took this mini feast outside to share with my hubby on our freshly landscaped balcony. The result was nothing short of miraculous, or at least wonder-full.

By the time I was ready to share my truth, I was well past the frustration, sadness and negativity that had clung like burrs to my psyche.

From this “stepping away” I could better see what was happening in and around me, and communicate my truth clearly and succinctly. Which turned out to be unnecessary, because in the absence of any action on my part, the problems that dogged me were solved. As some part of me knew they would be!

Which brings me to James Allen’s observation: “As a man thinketh, so is he.” I had initially let my thoughts run away with me. I had witnessed a problem that tugged at my heart strings, and from which I wanted instant relief. I found that relief in a change of pace: a shower, clean clothes, some charcuterie, a glass of something pink and bubbly. Relief came with this simple engagement in the minutiae of my life. And with this change of pace came a shift in perspective. As I sat outside observing the world around me — the people coming and going along the sea wall, the boats and freighters swinging slowly around their anchors — I sensed a shift in me. It seemed that all of nature was telegraphing a message that there is a natural order to the world, an ebb and flow, and that I can trust in that natural order and let go. Trust in the basic goodness of Trungpa’s rising sun vision (more on that later) and let those natural rhythms shift the tide of emotions in my mind.

Om shanti, shanti, shanti. Peace, peace, peace.

BASIC GOODNESS

“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.” William Morris

To be completely honest, I’m not sure I’m equipped to expound on Trungpa’s Shambhala Vision or that of his spiritual warrior. I’ve reread the first few chapters over and over again, and find it nearly inaccessible in its simplicity. I know. That sounds like an oxymoron. A part of me says: “What’s going on here? Where’s the esoteric philosophy? The multi-syllable foreign words and obscure religious doctrines? The fire and brimstone?”The latter is what I feared awaited me as I experimented with “Beyond Meat” to “beef up” (pardon the pun) the leftover bolognese sauce that we’re planning on eating at my daughter’s this week. The conversation in my head as I defrosted this faux meat product was anything but encouraging, fearing it would be rejected by all and a general waste of my time and energy. I ploughed on anyway, because of something I’d just read in Trungpa/Dorje:

“You have to relax with yourself in order to fully realize that discipline is simply the expression of your basic goodness. You have to appreciate yourself, respect yourself, and let go of your doubt and embarrassment so that you can proclaim your goodness and basic sanity for the benefit of others.”

In brief, the first half dozen chapters of Shambhala expound on this theme of basic goodness and intelligence, or sanity. It’s a reiteration of a popular self-help book I’m OK — You’re OK written by psychiatrist Thomas Anthony Harris in 1967. Though I read the latter when I was a teen, it stuck with me for the same reason I bring it into this essay today. Harris’s work emphasized how universal are the problems arising from the culture of comparing and competing that pervaded my formative years, and likely yours. This culture has spawned many great accomplishments — we have put humans on the moon and increased our convenience and longevity through science and technology. It has also sown the seeds of insecurity and anxiety that are rampant in 21st century society. Hence Trungpa’s insistence on a new vision for what he calls an enlightened society. Through explanation and meditation he aims to synchronize mind and body, and attune these to the natural order. As Morris would say, to take a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.

One of the obstacles to such an attunement is fear in any of its various forms: fear of rejection, of inadequacy, of pain and shame, and ultimately, fear of our mortality. Trungpa writes:

“The key to warriorship and the first principle of Shambhala vision is not being afraid of who you are. Ultimately, that is the definition of bravery: not being afraid of yourself” and
“If we are willing to take an unbiased look, we will find that in spite of all our problems and confusion, all our emotional and psychological ups and downs, there is something basically good about our existence as human beings. Unless we can discover that ground of goodness in our own lives, we cannot hope to improve the lives of others. If we are simply miserable and wretched beings, how can we possibly imagine, let alone realize, an enlightened society?”

Trungpa also provides this answer:

“The discovery of basic goodness is not a religious experience, particularly. Rather it is the realization that we can directly experience and work with reality, the real world that we are in. Experiencing the basic goodness of our lives makes us feel that we are intelligent and decent people and that the world is not a threat. When we feel that our lives are genuine and good, we do not have to deceive ourselves or other people. We can see our shortcomings without feeling guilty or inadequate, and at the same time, we can see our potential for extending goodness to others. We can tell the truth straightforwardly and be absolutely open but steadfast at the same time.”

Sounds simple enough, right???

Blog 2

Introduction: The path of the Spiritual Warrior

“Arise, awake and stop not [until] the goal is reached.”

“The [foregoing] inspirational sloka was Swami Vivekananda’s message to the [Indian people] to get out of their hypnotized state of mind. The sloka was meant as a call to his countrymen to awaken their “sleeping soul” and propagate the message of peace and blessings given by the “ancient Mother” to the world. “Awake” also denotes the awakening of one’s real nature…”

(Wikipedia citing of Swami Vivekananda’s Rousing Call to Hindu Nation, By Swami Vivekananda, 1963)

With that admonishment, my fellow seekers, I begin my foray into Part 2 of whatever it is that I’m doing. While my first fifty-two blogs were dedicated to the theme of leading an examined life, I aim for these next blogs to focus on what it means to be a “spiritual warrior”, to hone my skills for the purpose of waking sleeping souls, including my own. Towards that end, I’m culling through the resources I’ve accumulated throughout two plus decades of spiritual study and practice to find and share the voices that inspired my journey and increased my understanding of spiritual warriorship. My aim is to provide you, the reader, with references and questions that contribute to awakening your true nature, your spiritual warrior, in an era when “spiritual peace and blessings” appear to be sorely
lacking.

Much inspiration is to be found in: Shambhala: the Sacred Path of the Spiritual Warrior by Dorje Dradul of Mukpo, otherwise known as Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche. I could spend a lot of time expounding on what a REALLY BIG DEAL it is that Trungpa decided to use his given name — Dorje Dradul of Mukpo, but instead I will simply say that this venerated leader and teacher chose to step away from his roles and religious affiliations in order to address his readers from the standpoint of an ordinary lay person, a fellow seeker, or “the average Joe on the street”. But a seeker who might be curious about what is meant by the “awakened state”. As am I.

So where to begin?

If I asked you to define a spiritual warrior you might call to mind a great crusader like Martin Luther King, or a saintly person such as Mother Theresa. And you would be right, partially. For here I am compelled to clarify that, to my mind it is not their external actions and achievements that belie a spiritual warrior so much as the inner work that ultimately shaped them into influential leaders and social change-makers. Gandhi, another great change-maker, would say their power and influence was built upon an inner congruence: their thoughts and feelings were congruent with their words and deeds. And they used them to the benefit of humanity.

Hence my understanding of the term “spiritual warrior”: I am first called to create an inner congruence, to gain mastery over the small “s” self that is, well, self-ish. If this makes a greater contribution to social justice and welfare, then so much the better. But if such changes stem from “unskillful means”, aimed at elevating one’s status or esteem (aka one’s ego), it will not bring about the transformation of which I speak.

In the short term, then, there is much work to be done in my own back yard. And this work is, first and foremost, about shrinking my ego. Which is no fun at all! My ego wants to be seen and heard, accepted and respected, and above all, to be counted a valuable (read indispensable) member of the community — all stemming from an ingrained need for survival and security — a personality aspect that thinks if “I” get rejected by the tribe, I’ll die.

Much of what I had learned up to a certain point in my life, namely the start of my spiritual journey, was about getting along or getting ahead in the aforementioned tribe. One of the first things I’ve had to understand is: it’s NOT. ABOUT. ME. And, sad to say, it’s not about you, either. It’s about getting out of your own way so that your essence, or what Vivekananda calls your “real nature”, can shine through. And this requires the courage to face your “near enemy”, the “you” that you think I’m talking to! Paradox is the language of self-transformation, and it begins by stepping away from thr “hard-wiring” of conditioned beliefs and preconceived ideas, with curiosity, resilience, and humility.

As Trungpa/Mukpo writes: “Warriorship here does not refer to making war on others. Aggression is the source of our problems, not the solution. Here the word warrior is taken from the Tibetan and literally means ‘one who is brave.’ Warriorship in this context is the tradition of human bravery, or the tradition of fearlessness.”

It is the fearlessness of suspending what you think you know, of bravely stepping into the darkness of the unknown, and learning to navigate life in a refreshingly different (albeit less self-assured) way. I think it’s called a leap of faith. Or as T.S. Eliot would say: “You should be satisfied to have sufficient light to secure the next foothold”. For me, the next foothold is to study the way of the spiritual warrior, to awaken my true nature or inner essence, and, ideally, to propagate the ancient Mother’s message of peace and blessings.

I hope you’ll be curious enough to keep me company

hi folks…

“Meaningful dialogue is absolutely necessary if one is to remain human.” (Thomas Merton New Seeds of Contemplation)

After quietly congratulating myself for having done what I set out to do, (fifty-two in fifty-two) I rested on my laurels for a few days, until my “itchy fingers” told me I was missing my blog Ohana and the focus it gave me!

Contemplating my next steps on this great blogging adventure, I’ve begun formulating a course on leading an examined life that I want to share with those of you who wish to pursue your inner growth and development in a little more depth. And for those of you who just want a weekly reading, you can do that too.

In a series of six or eight segments I plan to focus on the various teachings and practices – and the written resources – that have informed my personal journey, or those whose journeys have inspired me. While introducing some of these ideas in my blog, such as journaling or balanced breathing, I felt that there was more I could do to provide structure and generate further discourse around developing one’s inner potential. From personal experience, I can state, unequivocally, that there is so much more to explore. And to share.

One of my writing teachers, Paul Belserene, motivated his students with this admonition: “Just get to the heart of the matter, and tell the truth.” For those of us who have been focused on building what pundit David Brooks (The Moral Bucket List) called the “resumé virtues” — a list of the degrees and achievements that testify to our socio-economic successes; the focus on his “eulogy virtues” — one’s spiritual life or soul journey has been hit-and-miss at best, if not entirely absent from our lives.

This course would be aimed at addressing this void, at enhancing our self-awareness and understanding, and fostering more meaningful dialogue among those closest to us (including our innermost selves), yet with whom we often relate in a superficial and ultimately unfulfilling way. As we go along, I hope we will become clearer on how to discern what feelings and beliefs ring true for us, and what opinions and conditioning no longer give our lives direction and meaning. Or authenticity.

In order to do justice to this new chapter, I intend to spend the next few weeks outlining and fine-tuning this course offering, and plan to put something online by the beginning of February — after our move to the North Shore (of Vancouver). Once again there will be an option to subscribe ( or not, no offence taken) to the (free) weekly installments of Leading an Examined Life: The Next Chapter.

I hope I’ll have the opportunity to continue learning and growing with you as I embark on the second incarnation of fifty-two-in-fifty-two! Inshallah, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Jolly Kwanzaa, Naw Ruz, Now Rouz, and Gung Hay Fat Choy. And of course, Mele Kalikimaka. If you don’t see your particular festive greeting, it’s because I haven’t fully got to know you yet. Like I said, so much more to explore…

“Aloha is not a word with a simple translation. It doesn’t mean just one thing. Aloha has several meanings. But it’s so much more than just a word.” (Joe Flanagan)

Here I am, back in Hawaïi, contemplating my 52nd blog, and in awe at all the changes that a year of ’living Aloha’ has wrought. Having returned to B.C. (kicking and screaming) in August after spending nine months on the Big Island, I was determined to finish my commitment in the place whose language and culture have had a powerful but ineffable effect on me, as it has had on so many people. This ineffable effect has been called, by some, the Aloha Spirit, and it permeates the islands like something organic, something intangible, something simply embedded in the land and embodied in its people. 

To look more deeply into the many meanings of Aloha (from “hello” to “goodbye” to “I love you”, to name a few), I ordered the English-Hawaïian dictionary created by Mary Kawena Pukui with Samuel H. Elbert. Checking the fine print, I saw that it will arrive around Christmastime. Oops. So back to the internet I went, gravitating to what Joe Flanagan offers by way of explanation:

“…more than just a word, aloha is also a way of life. You may hear the phrase “spreading the aloha spirit.” What exactly does that mean? To answer that question, let’s break down the word into two parts.

     “The Hawaiian word “alo” means “presence” or “share” and the word “ha” means “breath of life” or “essence of life.”

     “So the word aloha is something that you experience, your interaction with life, passion, joy, something that’s present within you. But at the same time, it’s something that you share, something that is spread to those around you, sharing that energy and joy that is within you.”

By this definition, Aloha is not – or should not be – exclusive to the islands of Hawaïi. How often do we register, as our duty to humanity, this sharing of the energy, passion and joy that is within us? The degree to which we take this message seriously, that we pay forward our gratitude, share our passion and our happiness, is the degree to which we embody the spirit of Aloha. 

By this logic, we are responsible for clearing away any obstacles to this exchange of positive energy or essence, this flow of love, compassion and understanding. To me, this means leading an examined life. Tracking my footprints, taking responsibility for the effects of my thoughts and actions and their impact on our planet. It is what inspired me to write a blog for fifty-two weeks. To use any words I might possess – or learn – to convey the meaning and spirit of living Aloha. And what did I learn in the nine months I spent living on the Big Island? 

I learned to pace myself rather than rush around madly trying to tick off boxes created by my inner task master.  

I learned to plant seedlings and stay in one place long enough to see them grow. To harvest arugula and tomatoes, and find homes for an over-abundance of basil and mint, for dozens of lemons and bananas, and the Breitenbach’s surplus mangoes (with permission, of course!) Not to mention learning to compost. The results of which are finally ready, I might add, to spread on the flower beds, though some of the straw etc from those fateful Christmas wreaths look suspiciously “composed”. Aka unchanged from their wreathing days. 

I learned about the patience required to play a musical instrument and render the simplest version of “Over the Rainbow”. Badly. But I still dream of jam sessions down at the beach (or around a campfire at the bottom of the Grand Canyon – the location doesn’t matter) with far better players than me. The more the merrier. 

I learned the importance of getting in touch with what matters, what gives my life purpose and meaning — sharing what I’ve gleaned from decades of studying yoga psychology, philosophy and spirituality in workshops and classes. Daring greatly, as Brené Brown would say, to offer my innermost thoughts in a weekly blog. Which brings me to…

MAHALO

The latter portion of this week’s blog is dedicated to thanking the people who have come on this journey with me. Like Aloha, the Hawaiian word for thank-you, Mahalo has more nuances than that of expressing gratitude; it is both a noun and a verb that convey admiration, regard, respect and esteem. Praise and appreciation. 

I hold all of that and more for the people who have taught me, by walking their talk, how to be living examples of Hawaiian values and proponents of Hawaiian language and culture. Those who have created large-scale community initiatives like Mike Hodson’s (of WOW Tomatoes) Farming for the Working Class; medium-sized initiatives like Mattie Mae Larsen’s Upcycle Hawaïi; and smaller, individual efforts, like Sandy Littelfield’s “tiny houses”. 

There are so many more people with whom I have interacted, shared joy and energy and passion and empathy while living briefly on the Big Island, and many more friends and family on the mainland who equally give my life its true heart and meaning. 

Mahalo nui loa to you all, and to those who have been willing to explore, in their own quiet way, the topics I thought relevant to the theme of leading an examined life. Mere words cannot express my gratitude. 

ʻO wau nō me ka mahalo. ― Respectfully yours, Janet

“Follow your bliss and the Universe will open doors where there were only walls.” (Joseph Campbell)

It’s a beautiful, misty morning in Whistler. The deck is damp and glistening with the rain. The maple tree, only recently aglow with brilliant yellow leaves, is now etched, dark and spidery against the shifting gray skies. Occasionally the clouds part and reveal the snow-coated peaks of Armchair Glacier looming across the valley where, not long ago, I would paddle on the glassy-calm waters of Green Lake. With each rain in the valley, the snows creep lower and lower down the mountain. I remember the barely-containable excitement I felt as a teen in years when the snows came before Remembrance Day, and I’d head eagerly up to Jasper or Banff to scrape my way down the half-white, half-grass-brown mountain. That’s as close an example as I can find of following my bliss. Hmmmmm. That was also several decades ago.

What does following my bliss mean, or look like, in my seventies? I know what it doesn’t look like. Despite the appeal of Campbell’s one-liner, it plays into a pattern that is all-too-prevalent in today’s burgeoning self-help industry. The notion that catchy phrases like “Follow your own star”, and “Existence wants you to be you” etc. are the guiding lights of one’s life can lead to more confusion than clarity. Meaning, I am not the only one who is seeking purpose and meaning, who is questioning the status quo and wanting to go beyond pat prescriptions for happiness.

Another obstacle to discerning what gives my life meaning and purpose, and making my unique contribution to the world is what Eric Maisel calls “automatic thinking”. By automatic thoughts I mean words and phrases that come to mind unbidden and unrecognized. Opinions and biases that have been conditioned into my psyche before I had the power to discern their validity. These become unconscious rules to live by, and because they were imprinted from birth, become both the manual for my survival, and the dictums of my self-worth.

Because of their unconscious nature, these automatic thoughts can quash innovative ideas that percolate up from my creative lifestream before they reach my conscious, reasoning faculties. Instead they get stomped on by an over-riding, self-protective personality aspect whose purpose it is to keep me safe, boxed-in by the status quo.

How to keep these automatic thoughts from interrupting my intuitive, imaginative inner processes? I picture a cordon of “keep off the grass” signs that protect the new green shoots from wayward footsteps that might squash their progress.

I see my reflection time as that cordoned-off space in which I let my creativity run freely. And my journal serves as an easy receptacle for these ideas. Unconstrained by must-do lists and other practicalities, one can — for a time — imagine solutions and outcomes that may at first seem like escapes from reality. A graphic example of squashing my own creativity comes in the form of a mental commentator who says, “Surely you’re not going to use this topic and these thoughts for your next-to-last blog!” But experience has taught me to “hear the inner naysayer and do it anyway”.

The inner naysayer is like an old governess who wants me to toe the line of the ruling tribe. To step out of familiar, conditioned patterns of thought and behavior takes a major leap of faith. I have to trust that my education, experience, and — equally important — my sincerity have earned me the right to share my ideas with other people who may well be dealing with the same cares and concerns, or hopes and dreams. And by other people, I mean you, my loyal reader.

By this train of thought I arrive at the answer to what “following my bliss” means in my seventies. It means creating opportunities for open and honest communication. Not always profound thoughts on the meaning of life, but always a two-way stream of empathy, mutual respect and shared humanity.

It means honouring a gentle passion that has been burning, like a low but steady flame, throughout my decades of study and training. It’s simply this: I want to know what makes me tick, what makes you tick, and how, between us, we can advance our self-awareness and understanding. Build character and stamina to meet life’s challenges head-on. Not so much to become “better” people in a comparative or hierarchical sense, but better at navigating the many shifts and changes that occur over time with what transpersonal psychologist Ken Wilber calls “grace and grit”. The grace to accept the indignities of aging (such as my embarrassing episode of vomiting on the street) with a degree of equanimity; and the grit to make our lives matter, not in spite of but because of our decades of tenure on the planet.

I have tremendous respect for — and some envy towards — the youth of today. And awe at the vast array of anti-aging interventions and ameliorations now available. But I can’t help thinking I have a larger purpose than turning back the clock with lasers and Botox. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!

Instead, I gravitate to “Tawanda’s” reply to the taunt: “Face it lady, we’re younger and faster!” in the film Fried Green Tomatoes:

“Face it girls, I’m older, and I have more insurance.”