A yogini at large

GOING BANANAS

“The phrase “we are spiritual beings having a human experience” is a quote often attributed to French philosopher Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, meaning that our physical lives are only one part of our existence, and our true nature is a spiritual one that transcends the physical body; essentially, we are spiritual beings temporarily inhabiting a human form.”
(AI Overview)

While lying on my mat on the lanai for the last few minutes of our online yoga class, I watched a sparrow hop ever so tentatively towards the open doors of our compact kitchen-dining-living hale (powder room, laundry, pantry…) Not knowing how aware of its surroundings a sparrow might be, I nonetheless got the impression it sensed a certain level of danger as it hopped onto the carpet, the back of a chair, then out of my line of sight, only to bolt back outside a short while later as if making a narrow escape. But, not long after, it was back looking speculatively at its new territory before I shooed it away. This little sketch recalled something Swami Radha said about evolution:

“You can see this evolution beginning in the animal kingdom with monkeys. I once saw an experiment where monkeys were kept without food for two days, then taken to a beach where some food was thrown on the soft sand. The monkeys grabbed up the food, all covered with grains of sand, and stuffed it into their mouths. Then, of course, they had to spit a great deal to get the sand out. Next, the researcher put some of the food covered with sand into the water, and the sand fell off. Some of the monkeys saw this and grabbed the food quickly as it surfaced with the sand washed away.

“Then a big basin was put into the water some distance from shore and heaped with bananas. Some of the monkeys walked on their hind legs through the water to get to it. But the moment they grabbed a banana, they reverted to their habitual way of moving on all fours, and had to run back through water with waves over their heads. Some monkeys took this chance, but there were some who would rather die of starvation. That’s precisely the human picture too. There are some people who will take the chance, and there are some others who would rather die of physical, mental or emotional starvation.” (Evolution and Maya, Time to be Holy)

In the current state of world affairs, I cannot help but look beyond the headlines to the teachings of Swami Radha and other luminaries who spent their lives studying and teaching the evolution of consciousness, lest I get pulled under by those crashing waves. Swami Radha describes it as “peeling the onion one layer at a time until you come to the essence that is you” (Ibid)

In my own experience, the mere fact that I am looking for greater insight and understanding suggests that a part of me knows there is something beyond the obvious three dimensions in which I experience my existence. (Mainly because I’d go bananas if I thought otherwise). It is difficult, but not impossible, to define this impulse towards a different way of knowing, or of navigating the confusion and injustice I witness around me, as the journey of the soul. In the introduction to Pathways of the Soul Hillevi Ruumet offers this encouragement:

“We each have our own way to wholeness — holiness — our unique way back to our home in Spirit, which our essence has never left. This journey takes us through the spiraling labyrinth of our individual lives, with many twists and turns, and occasional dead ends. Yet deep down our heart recognizes our authentic path when we encounter it, and then it becomes a matter of motivation and courage to commit to it and stay on it.”

Because there are few if any literal signposts that tell me I’m following my authentic, or soul path, I keep a journal in which to track my thoughts and feelings, words and actions which, in turn, show me how well I’m navigating that spiraling labyrinth. I can see progress when I reflect on simple, day to day choices or actions I’ve made. When I opt for healthy food versus the much-preferred chocolate mousse, I’m advocating for the health of my physical body — the embodiment of my soul journey. When I resist the urge to vent frustration or resentment, I’m advocating for my emotional maturity. When I take time to think deeply about my own and other’s opinions and beliefs, I’m advocating for my intellectual growth and development. When I go beyond the promptings of a dominating Ego, I am advocating for the wellbeing of my soul. With constructive use of my imagination, I can create a vision of a world remade. And in every way that I act with integrity, kindness, inclusivity, compassion and understanding, I’m helping to smooth the way for other seekers and spiritual leaders. That’s what I call cooperating with my evolution of consciousness.

Btw: Why are bananas, nuts and crackers the only foods that say ‘crazy’?

LIGHTS, CAMERA, EXCUSES

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that receives it.” (Edith Wharton)

This morning marked my first bike ride since mid-December. Not the most auspicious start of my training for the Lavaman relay being held at the beginning of April. In fact, I wasn’t planning on mentioning the Lavaman again in hopes that my blog Ohana might forget I ever mentioned it. Then, in the event that I cancelled for less than convincing reasons, the only people I would have to answer to would be my two trusting teammates, who are, nonetheless, enough to make an honest cyclist out of me.

One of the bigger obstacles to fully committing to this goal is the memory of having been hit by another cyclist in my last Lavaman, prior to COVID. On that fateful day, thinking I’d pulled far enough out of the way to dismount and check a misbehaving chain, I next heard a crunchy-clattery sound before flying backward and landing on my butt at the side of the road. Having also ridden over and bent my tire, the cyclist who hit me carried on, after apologizing profusely, leaving me to wait for Race Assistance to drive me the eight miles back to the start of the race. Unable to turn off the highway into the congested race runway, I suffered the further indignity of being dropped off and forced to walk my broken bike through the last couple of miles to the car park. I was not happy. Swore I’d never enter another Lavaman. (Kinda what I swore after giving birth to my first child…of four!) Time heals all wounds? Or perhaps forgetting past mistakes sets us up for making the same regrettable choices again?

Ever since suggesting to friends and family that we do a Lavaman in 2025, my mind has been pervaded by bad memories and second-guesses re: what actually happened at that fateful race. The inner narrative goes something like: “I obviously didn’t get far enough out of the way to keep from being hit by a fellow racer. And how did I/we miss the mechanics of my bike that left the chain out of alignment? Surely my takeaway from that mishap should be never to do a Lavaman again!” Looking for scapegoats as much as for explanations, I heard an echo of my initial reaction to the fridge fiasco, which is probably why the following quote caught my attention:

“To live more peacefully with the past, it helps to remember that once we know better, we tend to do better. Prior to knowing, we generally do our best, and while it’s true that from the perspective of the present, our best doesn’t always seem good enough [we] can, at least, give our past selves the benefit of the doubt. We did our best with what knowledge we had. Beyond this, we serve the greater good most effectively by not dwelling on the past. Instead we should focus our energy and knowledge into our present actions. It is here, in this moment, that we create our reality and ourselves anew with our current knowledge and information.” (“The Past in Light of the Present”, Daily Om, January 23, 2025)

Is this what Wharton meant by two ways of spreading the light? By focusing our reflections (on the past) and actions (in the present) through the lens of knowledge and wisdom that we have gained from our mistakes? Is not light symbolic for the highest and best we could offer ourselves or anyone else? If so, how can I deal with the present in such a way as to auger for an (as yet) unimaginably bright future? In what way might my actions and words reflect, or emanate a light of insight and understanding? And what would be the point?

To answer that I was moved by what Heather Cox Richardson posted on January 25/25:

“…as some of you have heard me say, I write these letters with an eye to what a graduate student will need to know in 150 years.”

What might my present actions convey to those putative future students? I don’t believe that a viable future can be built by denying or decrying what went before. Nor can we use what happened in the past as an excuse to not do better, try harder or be braver about doing the right thing in the present moment.

As Daily Om offers:

“From ideas about how to raise children to how to treat the environment, our collective human past sometimes reads like a document on what not to do. In many ways, this is exactly as it should be. We learn from living and having experiences. It is from these past actions that we garnered the information that guides us to live differently now. In our personal lives, we probably had to have a few unsuccessful relationships or jobs, [or bike races] learning about our negative tendencies through them, in order to gain the wisdom we have now.”

Every day is my opportunity to make up for past mistakes and exercise my hard-won wisdom in all that I think or feel, do or say.

No excuses.

RELEVANCE

“To live in communion, in genuine dialogue with others is absolutely necessary if one is to remain human. But to live in the midst of others, sharing nothing but the common noise and the general distraction, isolates a man in the worst way, separates him from reality in a way that is almost painless.”

(Thomas Merton: New Seeds of Contemplation)

I’ve been thinking about the fires in Los Angeles, how they slip from the news headlines in a way that is almost painless, drowned out by the “common noise and general distraction” to which Merton is referring. The collective “we” (who are not directly affected) are now on to inauguration speculations: “Was Trump’s hand on the Bible during his inaugural oath of office?” “How tall is Barron Trump?” Oh, and by the way, “California wildfires update…” to be followed, perhaps, by Greenland, Canada, and, along with Elon Musk, world domination.

When confronted by such a torrent of information — some sensationalized so as to draw attention away from what is actually important — I feel compelled to crawl under the proverbial rock, or as an ostrich might do, bury my head in the sand of insignificant minutiae that can so easily consume my day. Which is why the word relevance has been preoccupying my mind lately. I remember a comment made decades ago at a PAC (Parent Advisory Committee) meeting at my children’s then school. Having squandered the better part of a meeting in irrelevant segues of all sorts, a frustrated parent made this observation:

“Let’s please just focus on what we can reasonably hope to achieve.”

What can I reasonably hope to achieve with my time and energy? Trying to take in and process even a fraction of what is happening in the global news, but also in our more immediate surroundings, (Kilauea is erupting again; the Big Island is in desperate need of more emergency services; everybody everywhere seems to need money) can, as I said, overwhelm me so utterly I’m not even available to do what I can, with what I have, where I am. I struggle to figure out where, how and why to invest my particular skills and abilities. And what might the latter be? A quote from Mother Teresa comes to mind:

“We can’t all do great things, but we can all do small things with great love.”

That should probably have been the quote to introduce today’s blog. But Merton’s quote brings home the need for what he calls communion, or genuine dialogue with others if one is to remain human. While there are many sources of knowledge and authority, I don’t find anything more salutary than sharing what has heart and meaning in a communion, or gathering, of enquiring minds. People who are willing to check their egos at the door and loosely follow what Transpersonal Anthropologist Angeles Arrien taught as her four rules of engagement:

1. Show up. [Be fully present and engaged].
2. Pay attention to what has heart and meaning.
3. State your truth without judgment or blame.
4. Be open to outcomes, not attached to outcomes.

Which is where relevance comes in:

“Relevance is simply the noun form of the adjective “relevant,” which means “important to the matter at hand.” Artists and politicians are always worried about their relevance. If they are no longer relevant, they may not keep their job. Someone without relevance might be called “irrelevant.” (Vocabulary.com)

I want to focus on what is important to the matter at hand. It doesn’t require special credentials or advanced degrees. It requires showing up, paying attention to what has heart and meaning, and responding with compassion and understanding to whomever, or whatever is right in front of me. This is what Merton intended by communion, by genuine dialogue with others. And it is essential if one is to remain a relevant human being.

And now, somewhat irrelevantly, I’m going for my daily chai tea.

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.