Pause...

I step outside and into the pearly sort of darkness that tells of low clouds and falling snow. Sure enough, the white stuff is everywhere. It mounds on the ashcan, covers the cars, piles atop the birdfeeder.

           

This snow swallows every sound and brings a hush to the night. I stand still and feel the coolness of the air, its dampness against my cheek. I stretch out my hand and tiny flakes grace my palm. Dropping my arm, I remain a bit longer, steeping myself in stillness. Finally, my robe no match for the cold, I go back inside.

           

I have just taken what psychotherapist and meditation teacher Tara Brach calls “a sacred pause,” one of the key practices detailed in her thoroughly engaging book, Radical Acceptance. As the title suggests, Tara walks us through a process of receiving whatever comes our way with an openness larger than any preferences we might hold.

           

“Radical Acceptance is the willingness to experience ourselves and our life as it is,” she writes. Accepting "absolutely everything" allows us to be aware, “of what is happening within our body and mind in any given moment, without trying to control or judge or pull away.”

Accepting the peace of a snowy night, though, is one thing. Let us fast forward now to a wholly different situation...

Sunshine streams through the dining hall windows as I sit at the nursing home with my elderly father. His cancer has returned, and I’ve just learned of two incidents of explosive behavior the day before. As we sit together now, he's telling me a story that's an alarming jumble of past and present, so confused I find it nearly impossible to follow.

I remember to pause. I then work with what Tara calls the two wings of Radical Acceptance. With the first wing, I simply notice…Tightness in my shoulders and stomach. Helplessness, anxiety, sorrow. An urge to ignore my uneasiness, or get rid of it by trying to fix what cannot be fixed.

Instead, I breathe deeply and welcome the second wing. I bring a compassionate presence, a kindly awareness to all that is rising in me and everything occurring in this moment. And something begins to shift.

           

No longer resisting what is, a tenderness begins to emerge. My body softens and my heart becomes less constricted. Gradually, it opens. Affection swells and spills over, affection for myself as a struggling daughter and affection for my father, in all his human fear, anger and confusion.

           

This is the fruit of genuine acceptance. Tara writes, “We meet the ever-changing stream of life--this living, dying, breathing world--with accepting presence, and our hearts invariably open.”

           

And it all starts with a pause, one that clears the way for Radical Acceptance. Such acceptance is not passive. We may act, but whatever action we choose will likely be wiser and more effective, streaming as it will from an open heart.

So, my friends, may we pause well and often. And may every aspect of our lives, those we relish and those we find difficult, open our hearts more fully.

Blessings on all your pauses,

Loanne Marie

I highly recommend Radical Acceptance. Tara does an incredible job making these concepts accessible within the context of our very human lives. To visit Tara's website, chock full of info and free audio and video talks, click here.

Touching Together

 As we move deeper into cold and a flu season, I find myself thinking about the word contagion. It comes to us from the Latin con, meaning “together with,” and tangere, meaning “to touch.” So contagion means, quite beautifully, “a touching together.”

It feels, therefore, a bit unfair to this word’s etymological roots to use it most often to talk about contamination. Sure, we can become infected with cold germs, but touching together can have positive effects as well. Dis-ease may be contagious, but so is ease, a word from the Old French, meaning “comfort, pleasure, well-being.”

All of us have had the experience of being brought down by another’s negativity. We have also been buoyed by a joy freely shared. A necessary step on the path of spiritual growth is becoming aware of this energetic level of interaction and living from it.           

We begin to notice how certain people and activities affect us. We recognize, for example, that hours of mindless TV feel bad, and that gossiping leaves us somewhat sullied ourselves.

We also become more sensitive to the effect we have on others. No longer satisfied with merely not behaving badly, we begin to intentionally work with subtler energies.

We notice what’s emanating from us in any interaction, what we’re adding to the mix. And we learn to shift it when necessary, with our allegiance firmly placed with the highest good.

In an online course, meditation teacher and breath worker Julia Mikk, describes this as “becoming a force field of good will.” Reminding us that we “cannot solve anything by making it wrong,” she encourages us to recognize instead that a “vibration of unconditional love can touch what you see and inform it of possibilities of wholeness and completeness.”

Imagine, for example, a tense moment with some fellow humans, a disagreement perhaps. First, you notice. Voices are strained, your breathing constricts, muscles tighten a bit.

Then, with all you’ve gained from spiritual practice, you begin to alter the flow, first in yourself. You breathe fully, relax your shoulders, ask for guidance. You welcome the vibration of harmony into the situation, and then engage in whatever way feels appropriate, doing your part to bend dis-ease toward ease. 

Will everything magically change? Perhaps not. But then again, maybe so. Julia suggests that relating in this way can awaken the "inherent divinity” present within each moment and any interaction, no matter how tense or difficult.

Ultimately, though, the outcome is really not your concern. Your task is only to be a force for love, choosing it over all else.

The Christ whose birth we’re celebrating this week was, by all accounts, supremely adept at doing this. His very presence was vivifying, and those who touched together with him were lifted out of turmoil and pain.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if, in the coming year, we enacted the deeper message within the Christmas story by allowing the love in the manger of our own souls to flourish? As that love is set free, we will be offering our essence to a contagion, both precious and powerful.

Contagious love, a touching together that touches us all together. Hallelujah, and have a blessed New Year!

Namaste!

Loanne Marie

Here's a link to Julia's online course, Sacred Self~Mastery. I've just finished this 10~week walk and found the weekly didactic material combined with daily guided meditations and journalling to be quite effective in incorporating spiritual principles more deeply into my life. If your journey has you stepping off the mainstream western path~~and I assume it does if you read this blog!~~you might find this delightful course to be of benefit. 

Rise and Shine!

I recently came upon an excerpt from an Actor’s Studio interview with stage and screen actor Hugh Jackman. Though I’ve never seen Jackman’s work, his discussion of the acting process was invaluable.

            

“The life of an actor is really about being awake,” he explains. Speaking specifically of stage work, he discusses the importance of keeping a performance fresh, night after night, by truly listening to his fellow actors in a scene. "You do eight shows a week, and if you're not awake, that thing is going to be stale by the 5th show," he explains. Each performance, "has to be for the first time."

Sounds a lot like life, this amazing play that dawns fresh in each moment. 

When we move across the stage on autopilot, however, preoccupied and speaking our lines from rote, that freshness is lost. We become stale and life loses its rich flavor. But when we awaken, our authentic presence is offered to even the simplest experience, and we are enlivened in the process.           

            

When we speak to a loved one or greet a coworker, for example, we can do so in a daze, just another weary actor reading from a barren script. Or we can pause to truly see the person in front of us and speak from the heart.

            

The interval we’re discussing here is more one of awareness than of duration, as even the busiest day allows time for an authentic hello. The challenge is to cut through our inner landscape, to get out of our own way in order to perceive the person before us simply as they are in that moment. When we do so, we connect with the essence shining through. Our attentiveness enlarges the channel through which that vitality flows, and we both are nourished.

            

As I type that last sentence, my fingers drop from the keyboard and I turn toward the window. A deep blue sky cradles a westering sun. The garden lies in shadow and a breeze stirs the leaves of backyard trees.

            

It has been a stressful day. With lots to do and deadlines looming, I have constricted and become depleted. Now, as I consciously lay down my busyness, an oasis spreads out before me.

            

Earlier I’d discovered, not surprisingly, that Hugh Jackson is a meditator. In a 2006 interview in O Magazine, he refers to meditation as “dipping into that powerful source that creates everything.” I do this now. I steep myself in that which gives rise to it all. I awaken once more and am soothed.

           

Many believe we are here on this dear planet for precisely this purpose~~to awaken again and again, until living in full awareness becomes the new norm. And then, no matter our role or who shares the stage with us, we will know with our whole being that all is well.

Happy dipping! Oh, and double dipping is allowed!!!

Loanne Marie

And click here to get to Jackson's interview clip. Links to the full interview and an earlier one, too, can be found to the right.

Meditation Prayer

In two recent essays, Shadow Play and Song and Flame. I referred to a prayer I often use during meditation. Many of you have asked that I share that prayer. So here it is!

But first, a bit of explanation. A few of the lines below came from a prayer that made the rounds on the internet near the Winter Solstice of 2010. You can find a link to the site that includes this original prayer here, though you'll need to scroll way down the page until you reach A Solstice Prayer. It surprises me to see how different this original prayer is from the one I now use.

I'm not one for rote memorization. When I work with prayers or affirmations, I actively engage with the words, the feelings, the concepts. They are quite real to me and, therefore, do not remain static. Words and phrasings change with the day, my mood, my sensitivities. I add lines and take those away that no longer fit well or feel inspirational. The phrases on love grew from a single line from A Course In Miracles some friends had on their bedroom wall. In this way, the prayer informs my life and my life informs the prayer. We are linked together. 

Rarely is every word spoken or thought throughout an entire prayer. Rather, I think the meaning or feel the sensation or connection, without it being encapsulated in the form of words. So it was a bit of a trick to lay them out here, to dress them in the clothing of our common language. And if I were to do so tomorrow, likely some words would be different.

What I offer is an outline of a prayer I've found very helpful in orienting me to meditation and throughout my day. Here it is, along with some asides that give a feel for how I work with the prayer.

I breathe with the universal forces of creation…

~~Pause for several breaths, experiencing the fullness of the energizing Yang inhale and the fullness of the releasing Yin exhale~~

…under the guidance of...

~~Name those who have been important in your spiritual development, pausing a few moments after each one. I recognize it as an invocation of energy, usually with a strong sense of Presence surrounding me on the cushion as I go. Here is my own list, but of course create your own~~

the Buddha and his earthly representative Thich Nhat Hanh; Jesus Christ; the saints and sages of all spiritual traditions; all those who have, throughout time and without fanfare or recognition, infused ordinary human lives with Spirit; all my personal guides; all who have brought me to this place and time. 

~~And this next passage is where you bring it all back home, where the magic happens~~

I open to you now, as well as to all others who at this very moment are opening to Spirit in whatever way. I join my small voice to your vast chorus, add my tiny flame to your glorious fire.

~~Here, I often envision the Earth surrounded by innumerable points of light,
knowing one of them as my own.
Enter meditation, sensing or knowing yourself linked with a multitude of others as part of a greater whole, a greater flow. Allow yourself to become one with it.

When my meditation time is over, I start again at the beginning and complete the prayer~~

I breathe with the Universal Forces of Creation. Divine Source fills the spaces and cells of my being with pure Love and Light. I am healed, whole, and renewed and ready to move out into the world as your hollowing reed, allowing your Light to shine through me to all I meet this day, especially…

~~Name particular individuals, those you anticipate coming into contact with throughout your day. This is also a good time to send Light to someone in need.~~

…Love is the voice I listen to. Love is the voice I honor with my thoughts and actions. Love is the voice I remember as my own. I gratefully accept my role as a force for positive change 
at this time in Earth’s history.

Amen

I hope this has been helpful. Feel free to use these words as I wrote them or, better yet, make the prayer your own with changes coming immediately and continuing as you move forward. Let this prayer, and others you create, inform your life as you inform them. 

Many blessings!!!

Loanne Marie

Dawn

Bundled against the autumn chill, I walk up the hill to a grouping of large sandstone rocks rising in lovely swirling formations. The westerly wind is already stirring, so I find a protected alcove and position my blankets in that soft curve of hard rock.

Light is just now coming to the eastern sky. As I take my seat, vivid pink brightens the bottom of a single cloud, farther away than the others. This morning’s sky~~a layering of clouds within an otherwise clear expanse~~promises a lavish display of progressing light. The anticipation quickens my senses, yet I stay with each moment so as not to miss a single step in the process.

I settle into my breath and know that I do not breathe alone. Life is one grand inhale and exhale. Beings and galaxies come into existence and pass out of it again. Rocks rise up from the earth and are eroded back into dust. Tides ebb and they flow. Seasons move one to the other as Earth ambles along its elliptical path around the sun, sweeping to the furthest point before turning back again. Night follows day as day follows night.

And I have been given a front~row seat. As the earth rotates me toward the sun, the cirrus clouds high above grow salmon~colored, a backdrop to the cumulus below, whose gray has just now shifted toward purple.

A deer and her twins munch their way through the meager grass below me. My head turns of its own accord toward the bush that brushes my left shoulder. How can it grow here, in only a few cupfuls of dirt collected in a shallow dip of rock? As I look closer in the strengthening light, I notice what I have missed before~~the tiniest, most slender catkins I have ever seen! Less than an inch in length and thinner than a piece of yarn, they are this bush’s ultimate gift, an offering from deep within its genetic code. And I open to its teachings.

Life gives of itself so freely, so beautifully, so continuously. The sun’s warmth and the glory of its rising and setting, the magic of photosynthesis, the begetting of the next generation of flora and fauna from the one that comes before~~everywhere one looks, this reality shines out.

The fawns are nursing now, one on each side of their mama. High above them, pink walks its way westward, followed by a rich and brilliant orange which gradually dissolves into a simple golden light. From my rocky perch, the whole valley opens to me. Vast stretches glow golden in the angled sunlight, the occasional hillock and cluster of trees casting long shadowy fingers.

As I breathe it all in, I wonder what my exhale will be. Having received so much, what will I pass on?

A neighboring husky releases a series of ululating howls, her offering to the risen sun. As the last soulful note dies away, I gather my things and return home.

I prepare a bowl of oatmeal, add yoghurt, a sprinkling of nutty granola, and sweet cantaloupe chunks the color of the sky I’ve just seen. Placing my hands on either side of the bowl, I utter a silent blessing for these gifts. And I vow to transform the energy given me according to the deepening capacities of my own soul. I vow, also, to give back with the same generosity with which it has all come my way.

My actions, my thoughts, the choices I make in each moment~~these are my own slender catkins, my offering to life.

Blessings on all our catkins. May these fuzzy little flower clusters, in all their marvelous and varied manifestations, tickle our world pink!

Loanne Marie

The Fourth Moment

I have always been awed by the sand painting tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. Monks, very slowly and with deep meditative awareness, spend days or even weeks creating a piece boldly colored and intricately detailed. Spirituality merges with art in this process called dul~tson~kyil~kho, literally “mandala of colored powders”.

Mandala is a Sanskrit word loosely translated as circle, though its meaning is much richer than that word may convey in English. A circle symoblizes wholeness, eternity, All That Is in perfect balance. A mandala then becomes a symbolic representation of life itself, a sort of cosmic diagram. Each shape and ancient symbol embedded within the finished whole is rich with spiritual significance. But so is the process of its creation. The monks’ complete absorption is a teaching in itself and illustrates the Buddhist concept of the fourth moment.

We are all familiar with the division of time into three parts~~past, present and future. The fourth moment, however, refers to those states of consciousness that stand outside time all together. Ken McLeod, Tibetan Buddhist, teacher and text translator, describes it as an “open awareness that is the capacity to know clearly and respond appropriately to what arises in experience.”

When we are in this state, all seems particularly vibrant, fresh, flawless. We expand beyond our everyday awareness and are saturated by a sense of timelessness. Such states often come through deep meditation and prayer, though we can fall into this exquisite awareness within the ordinary moments of our lives~~while, for example, immersed in nature or a loved one’s eyes, engaged in a mundane household chore, or absorbed in a creative endeavor.

The fourth moment is a term new to me, a gift from multimedia artist Sarah Bouchard. In her MFA thesis by that name, she describes an artistic process that emerges out of a silent meditative awareness. “I devote time and space to witness the mind at work,” Bouchard writes, while “…allowing each movement of the hand to be as considered as a Buddhist’s intake of breath.”

Bouchard walks the reader through the creation of a large~scale installation at the Masonic Temple in Portland, Maine. When completed, hundreds of spheres, individually crafted of vellum and paper mache, will be internally lit and suspended within the grand Corinthian Hall.

Bouchard’s meditative approach is beautifully depicted in the following passage describing the cutting of the thousands of strips of paper needed for the mache.

“At first, each passing of the scissors through paper requires pin~point focus. A wavering of thought produces a tear in the paper that impedes subsequent steps of wetting and applying the strips. Eventually, there is a letting go, a recognition that focused, self~conscious effort is not only unnecessary, but an impediment to smooth progress. A gentle ease sets in and the movement of scissors through paper becomes integrated, taking on an effortless motion, until another disruption of the mind starts the process again~~effort, focus, letting go, ease.”

Bouchard beautifully characterizes art work that arises from this sort of contemplative awareness as “an experience of eternity in bodily form." And that brings us to another teaching from the Tibetan sand painting tradition~~an instruction on impermanence. The final painting is ritualistically destroyed soon after completion, with the spent sand often released into a body of flowing water.

What a graphic reminder! That which stands beyond time can never be captured and held tightly within it. The paper on which Bouchard’s thesis is printed will age and disintegrate. Her artistic creations, as well as her physical body, are on the same trajectory. The things of this world are indeed fleeting.

Each one of us can, though, take the grains of sand that are the stuff of our individual lives and consciously craft from them a unique piece of art, boldly colored and intricately detailed. And when our time is done and our mandala complete, perhaps we can smile as all those varied grains of colored sand, on loan to us for a short while, are swept back into a larger flow.

Blessings on your very own mandala in process~~it is, indeed, uniquely yours and a thing of beauty!

Loanne Marie

PS. I highly recommend Sarah's thesis, especially for those of you who are artists. More lovely words on the blending of art~making with meditation, lots of luscious quotes, and several evocative pictures. Her thesis can be purchased here~~The Fourth Moment. And you can learn more about Sarah, the artist, on her website here~~sarahboss.com

Open That Love~Window!

When I was a little girl in that developmental stage between highchair and big person chair, my mother would place our 4~inch thick big~city phone book on a grown~up seat and help me climb aboard. I saw this scene repeated with my younger siblings at dinner tables spanning years. The ritual usually ended with a statement something like, “Now, let’s move that chair in so you’ll be in the same county as your food.”

That line returns to me now as I think back on my brisk walk around the lake this morning. I was moving within a crescent of mountains, beneath a huge, shockingly blue sky, the sun low in front of me. Too bad I wasn’t there.

My body may have been walking within beauty, but my thoughts were some place else. Likely I was thinking back on an interesting conversation, or scheduling my day, or simply drifting from one random thought to the next. But I definitely wasn’t fully on that lakeside path. To paraphrase Mom, I wasn’t in the same county as my nourishment.

A week earlier, I’d attended a performance by musicians Jenny Bird and Michael Mandrell. One of the songs of that evening popped into my head this morning and helped return me to the lake. In Some Kiss We Want, Jenny put to music the Rumi poem of the same name.

There is some kiss we want

with our whole lives,

the touch of spirit

on the body.

At night, I open the window

and ask the moon to come

and press its face against mine.

Breathe into me.

Close the language~door

and open the love~window.

The moon won't use the door,

only the window.

Sound advice, I thought. So with Rumi and Jenny as my guides, I once again closed the language~door. I let go my thoughts and opened my heart, my very own love~window.

And I woke to what was...Early morning light dancing on ripples of water churned by a soft breeze which riffled, too, my hair...Glorious blue of a sky found only at high altitudes, streaked with the feathery remains of a plane’s vapor trail mingling with a bevy of cirrus clouds...Solid earth beneath my feet, and delight in a body that brings the capacity to perceive such beauty.

And just then, a Great Blue Heron, hidden behind a rocky outcropping nearby, took flight. Broad wings beat a leisurely but powerful rhythm, lifting a body wrapped in blue~grey feathers, long stick legs trailing behind, orange in the morning light.

Having been alive to the experience, I saw and felt it all.

There is, of course, nothing wrong with language or the thinking of thoughts Rumi was referring to in his poem. But thoughts unchecked can whisk us away. And words, as much as I love them, are not real. They give us only an approximation of reality, merely pointing us in a certain direction. As the Buddha would say, words are the finger pointing to the moon. They are not the moon itself.

And it’s the moon we long for.

Rumi’s words, imprinted in my mind by Jenny’s marvelous voice, pointed me to the moment. I needed only to take the next step. When I opened that love~ window, the moon~~and the lake, the sky, and that magnificent heron~~ breathed into me.

What joy! A joy that urges me to remain in the same county as my nourishment, throughout all the moments of all my days.

Blessings on your very own love~window. May it open wide!

Loanne Marie

To learn more about Jenny Bird's music, go to her site jennybird.com. And here's the link to the Mystic Muse CD, which includes the Rumi song above and quotes put to music from other mystics and visionaries. You can listen to St. John for free!

Walkin' the High Wire

Recently, my husband and I watched the documentary Man on Wire, which recounts the true story of Philippe Petit’s 1974 feat~~walking the space between the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers on a high wire.

Much of the film focuses on the details of Petit and his ragtag crew of accomplices developing and carrying through their plot to sneak nearly a ton of equipment and themselves onto the buildings’ rooftops. However, the movie soars when Petit begins his walk.

Petit’s personality~~driven, self-absorbed, at times abrasive~~completely disappears. His face transforms as he stands erect at roof’s edge, dressed entirely in black, holding his 26~foot balancing pole. Slowly, Petit extends a leg. His foot, enveloped in thin ballet shoes, reaches out, feels for the wire. Tentatively, some weight is given. And then, Petit commits. Back foot joins front upon the narrow wire, and he walks.

Looking straight ahead, fully absorbed, completely focused, he is a study in intentionality. He walks one quarter of a mile above concrete, balanced on a cable 7/8 of an inch thick that sways and bounces in the wind. Talk about your one~pointed meditation!

Petit walks forward. He walks backward. He turns, kneels, lies down. And as he moves with grace and an astonishing inner stillness, the wind continues to whip between the Towers, blowing hair, buffeting that small wire that holds him.

The immediacy of the filming captivated me. I was there with him, mesmerized, sharing a bit of his experience.

The image of this narrow cable reaching across a chasm has stayed with me. When my day is more hectic than usual, I see this wire and know it is mine to walk. Though the wind howls and seems intent on knocking me off, if I can muster just the smallest fragment of Petit’s concentrated energy, I too can maintain my balance, a balance that appropriately shifts as conditions change.

Petit uses a balancing pole. We have ours as well. Our poles are made of the spiritual teachings of Christ and Buddha, of saints and sages, of earth~based religions. They are imbued with all the love and all the harm we’ve ever received, the loveliest of gifts and the hardest of lessons.

Woven through these poles, too, are all those committed to their own wire~walking. We steady one another and our very existence is a hand up when one of us falls.

And our poles carry, too, the memories of all our mishaps~~the ones in which we fell flat on our faces and the ones in which we managed to hook a foot or finger over the wire just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding a crash. These experiences continue to teach us to find and better hold our center.

Learning to maintain balance, on days calm or blustery, is our task. Leaning neither too far right or left, forward or backward, we increase our harmonious movements in this wire~walking life of ours.

One of Petit’s signature moves is the knee salute. Gracefully, one knee bends while the other sinks to touch the wire. As back arches slightly, an arm sweeps toward to the sky. Face tilts upward. What a tribute~~body, mind, heart and spirit shining forth, reverently, as one! Such beauty! Such joy!

We each walk our own wire. We fall often, for through falling we learn to better hold a dynamic balance. And by bringing grace, joy, and clear intention to our individual walks, we too salute the heavens.

Walk with grace!

Loanne Marie

P.S. You can watch a lovely animated short about Petit's high wire walk here~~ The Man Who Walked Between The Towers.

P.P.S. I'm putting the final touches on a 2~CD offering, Seeds For Your Garden. This CD set is intended for beginning meditators and offers information, addresses myths and misconceptions about meditation, and contains several short guided meditations from a variety of traditions. I'll post more about it on this page when it's ready for sale, hopefully sometime in the next 4~6 weeks. Stay tuned!

Return to the Still Point

Whew! We’ve made it through another December, and the frenzy has finally come to an end.

Religious observances have drawn to a close. Another solstice has come and gone, as has the meteor shower and lunar eclipse which made this last one so spectacular. The advertising blitz is done. Potlucks and family gatherings are back to accustomed frequencies. Wrapping paper has gone to the recycling bin, and the hoopla of New Year’s eve is behind us.

It’s January, the month that comes after. Dark and often bitterly cold, January seems to encourage us to turn inward, to quiet ourselves after so much ado.

Let us return, then, to the still point, right here, right now. As you read these words~~

~~Feel the rise of chest or belly as your lungs fill with sweet air. Just as attentively, note the sensations as the breath releases on the exhale.

~~Observe the quality of light streaming through the window or radiating from an electric bulb. Become aware of gradations of color in the objects occupying your field of vision.

~~Notice the sounds that come your way as vibrations funnel into your ear canal, setting in motion the delicate apparatus of the inner ear.

~~Become attuned to your body in space. Notice skin brushing against clothing, resting on furniture.

~~Take a moment, as life~giving oxygen travels throughout your body and as carbon dioxide is gathered up and released, to marvel at a process as amazing as all this.

~~And notice, too, that you are settling into the still point.

Activities come and they go. Emotions and thoughts rise up and drift away. The still point, though, remains always. It exists independent of our awareness. Yet, when we consciously turn toward it, settle into it, it feels like coming home. For where else would home be? Certainly not in the hubbub that usually claims our attention. No, our true home is within this still center.

The world’s religions offer techniques to help us return here. Meditation, prayer, sacred dance, yoga and ritual are all designed for just this purpose. It is here, as we let go of all our mental and emotional machinations, that we can most easily, most fully, open to the Infinite. As author Alan Cohen puts it, “If you want to find God, hang out in the space between your thoughts.”

While the Divine permeates every facet of existence, the still point within us is the clearest access point, our doorway. When we enter there, we are poised for deep communion with that which transcends and infuses, that which endures. Engaged in such contact, we become steeped in an energized restfulness. We can then return to our lives renewed, able to joyfully do what’s ours to do.

T. S. Elliot wrote, “Except for the point, the still point, there would be no dance, and there is only the dance.” Our lives and the world itself are expressions of that glorious ballet. But as any dancer will tell you, the beauty of our individual dance rests on an ability to hold the still point. As we return to stillness again and again, we become more adept at maintaining a vibrant balance. We can then delight in gracefully and creatively dancing the steps that are uniquely ours.

Still point and dance, Yin and Yang~~complementary forces enunciating the whole.

The midpoint ever awaits. It’s right here, as you breath in, right here as you breathe out. Now, from this still point, dance the rest of your day. In the dark and cold of January, dance! Throughout the coming year, dance! Hold the still point~~and dance, dance, dance!!!

Loanne Marie

Hold Your Horses!

In an old Zen tale, a man on horseback streaks through a village at breakneck speed. “Hey, Mister!” a child calls out as he races by. “Where ya goin’?” “I don’t know,” the man yells over his shoulder as he disappears from view. “Ask the horse!”

As with most parables, this one can be read on various levels. So often, life seems to carry us in directions not of our choosing. Whether in relationships, careers, or the particulars of a given day, we often view ourselves as passive participants, shuttled here and there without conscious choice. While there is much to be said for giving ourselves over to the flow of what is, this story reminds us that, ultimately, we bear responsibility for how we fashion this precious life of ours.

This allegory also calls attention to how we are repeatedly carried off by our accustomed ways of thinking and reacting. Perhaps anger, sadness or hopelessness automatically arise when things don’t go as we wish. Maybe anxiety is our frequent companion, accompanying us into the unknown. We might slide easily into well~worn mental grooves of mistrust, negativity, reverie or busyness. Perhaps we display a quickness to judge others or to find ourselves lacking or slighted.

Whatever the habitual responses might be, they color our perceptions. They also lead us to make certain choices and, thus, their effect streams out into the world, further influencing our experience and affecting others through our demeanor and actions. In Buddhist psychology, these phenomena~~these horses that rapidly carry us away~~are term habit energies. We are encouraged to transform them through the shining light of our awareness.

To do so, we must first increase our capacity to identify these responses as they occur. Changes in the rate or quality of our breathing are the surest, most immediate indicators that we’ve been hauled off by one horse or another. By then following our breath~~attending to it and nothing else~~we begin to slow down. Depending on the nature of our upset, this process can take a few moments or much longer.

But sooner or later, our mad gallop becomes a canter, and then a slow walk. If we stay with it, we eventually arrive at a poised stillness that offers an opportunity to look deeply into our reaction and see what really caused it. Since not everyone responds the same, external events cannot truly be the origin of our agitation.

By delving deeply into our pattern of responses, we can often detect the influence of a past set of experiences or a dispositional makeup we’ve inherited through our bloodline. These conditioned reactions, reinforced with each passing year, seem to most often trigger our disturbances. Rather than continuing to respond unconsciously, however, increased clarity brings the possibility of fresh responses. We also begin to take profound responsibility for how we are in the world and become freer to ripen into the person we wish to be.

Scheduling time for structured meditation and prayer is enormously helpful in this regard. Such a proactive approach allows us to work with this material on a regular basis, rather than waiting for difficulties to occur. It also helps us grow in our ability to return, again and again, to a simple, open delight in the present moment, our true home.

These horses of ours are frisky creatures. However, they will slow down if we provide consistent soothing opportunities~~regular watering holes, so to speak, on this path of life.

Happy trails, ya'll, and namaste!

Loanne Marie

PS. For more on this, see Transforming Habit Energy, 9/18/10.

Centering Prayer

I first encountered Centering Prayer over a decade ago. At that time, I was reconnecting with the church of my childhood and a Christianity from which I had felt estranged for years.

I was discussing this process with a friend who had spent time living among the Trappist monks at their monastery in Snowmass. When I shared my wish to blend my newly reclaimed Christianity with my love of Eastern meditative traditions, he told me of Father Thomas Keating’s work resurrecting the tradition of contemplative prayer, a form of Christian meditation.

I was enthralled. I knew my meditative experiences were authentic and knew, too, that something profound and true brought me to Christianity. The possibility that these two paths could merge into one resonated immediately. I bought Keating’s book Open Mind, Open Heart and was on my way.

Centering Prayer and Eastern meditative traditions have many elements in common. In both, attention is focused to allow a slowing of the usual thoughts that parade endlessly through a busy mind. In Centering Prayer, however, the intent is to consciously open to the Holy Spirit. Keating clarifies that this method is “not concentrative, but receptive” and aims at “the surrender of one’s whole being to God.”

This form of meditation “presupposes a personal relationship” with the Divine. While such a relationship is a component of other traditions as well, the idea of a personal connection stands at the forefront of Centering Prayer.

As a symbol of the intention to open to “the mystery of God’s presence beyond thoughts, images, and emotions,” one begins by choosing a sacred word to act as a focal point for the mind. Since this word only directs the attention toward God, it is not held tightly or repeated continuously, but is returned to whenever attention wavers or thoughts return.

To capture the essence of Centering Prayer, an experiential telling may be helpful. And so, I close my laptop and rise from my desk, walk slowly to my meditation chair, and sit. I set my timer so as to be less tempted to check the clock as the minutes pass by.

My breath finds a steady rhythm. I welcome my sacred word into my awareness, gently repeating it with each in~breath. Consciously I open to the Holy Spirit.

A soothing warmth soon fills my chest, though I sometimes have no particular physical sensation. I repeat my word until it naturally evaporates. I am receptive and still.

Soon thoughts arise~~of squash bought at the farmer’s market this morning and needing an onion to cook with it for a meal tomorrow. I realize the tangent and return gently and without judgment to my sacred word, repeating it in sync with my breath until it fades away once more.

The sensation in my chest wanes, but a sweetness of experience continues. My breath becomes soft and feather~light.

My left shoulder begins to ache. I reposition it, relax tense muscles. My sacred word rides the wave of my breath again until it quietly drops away.

I begin crafting an inscription for a book I will give a dear friend tomorrow. I reorient myself, word and breath together once more.

Father Keating describes Centering Prayer as bringing us “the experience of resting in the Spirit.” This is certainly how it feels to me in this moment.

My timer chimes. I bow my head in gratitude and return to my desk refreshed.

I certainly wouldn't attempt to prove that I have felt the touch of the Holy Spirit during these times. I know only that something good has occurred. And I trust that.

May we all touch something good in the coming days.

Blessings,

Loanne Marie

Clear Eyes

I return from a month’s absence from these pages to reflect on the delights of time away. What is it that is so magnificent about a vacation, even from work that is engaging and meaningful? While time off can be filled with wondrous moments, I haven’t found these to be necessary in making a vacation beneficial. For me, it is the break in my routine that is essential, and what such a break brings my way.

I become so acclimated to my daily life that I cease to fully experience it. For example, we live in a particularly beautiful part of the world. I know the mountains that ring our town are amazing, and yet I become so accustomed to their presence that I no longer truly see them. One of the joys of having folks spend their vacations with us is that I borrow their eyes to behold what is here before me each and every day. And certainly one of the delights of leaving our small town on a vacation of my own lies in coming home to it, seeing it fresh once again.

In just this way, when I take a break from the routines of my life, I gain a perspective that allows me to return to them refreshed and open. I can see my life as it is, without the familiarity that leads me too often to take aspects for granted. And such a clarified vision may prompt a much needed evaluation. There have certainly been times in my life when the angst I felt at returning to a particular job, for example, powerfully signaled that an examination was in order. But whether I return with gratitude for the life I am blessed to live or an uneasiness that tells me it’s time for modification, I usually come back with a clearer perception than when I left.

Yet some vacations bring, along with the break in routine, special delights. This August, I spent nearly 2 weeks in Greece. There I found ancient traditions, beautiful terrain, a language new to me, foods I had never eaten and familiar ones prepared in novel ways, and a whole culture which differed from my own. I was exposed to fresh views of my own world and life in general, ways that I trust have become part of the weave~~at least in small part~~of who I now am.

When I am away from my routines, life takes on an immediacy. Everything is so there, vibrant and without the overlays bred of long acquaintance. And I am reminded that this intimate and vivid experience of life is the goal of any deep spiritual practice. I meditate to slough off the tendency to move through my days on autopilot, to better see what is with fresh eyes, to be more fully and richly present in each moment. These are the very things I value most about a vacation.

Meditation as a vacation from the routine of life? Yes, it seems so to me. And all without the expense and jet lag!

So, now I return to my life. The discipline of weekly writing is a part of that. Tomorrow I resume my work with folks who dig deep for healing and search for an enhanced awareness of their own lives. My wish is to better see, through eyes more thoroughly cleansed of preconceptions, the unique variations of Spirit reflected in each individual and in every interaction that arises between us. And, as always, I hope to more truly recognize and graciously welcome the guidance of that indefinable Other who always shares the room with us.

May your week, too, be full of moments of unbridled perception.

Namaste!

Loanne Marie

Mastering One's Own Nature

I work with a young man who behaves badly when he believes he’s being treated unfairly. I’m sure you’ve seen this process: perceived injustice leads to outrage, outrage triggers explosion, explosion results in consequence, and the original inequity is all but forgotten. Except by the young man, of course, who harbors resentment which becomes kindling for the next match.

In our discussions about this, I have invoked the spirit of Gandhi. My TIVO found the wonderful Attenborough movie Gandhi with Ben Kingsley. It also found a Biography Channel segment on this amazing man. At least initially, my client reacted favorably to the idea that there is a way to fight that enlarges, rather than cripples, the fighter.

As so often happens, an effort to assist another brought riches my way as well. I don’t know when I first became aware of Gandhi~~certainly well before I saw that award winning movie in my late twenties. I had been quite affected by his approach to injustice and the courage he demonstrated in standing up to power. Just like my client, battling unfairness was a major focus when I was young.

At 52, however, I was struck by something else this time around: Gandhi’s emphasis on self~mastery. As I saw footage of Gandhi explaining that it would be wrong to harm the British for qualities we all possess and teaching his followers that the real task is to master one’s own nature, his tutoring reached within me to a deeper level.

I began to ponder this notion of self~mastery. I know it is, indeed, my work in this lifetime. Of course, I believe in harmony, in being kind, in speaking my truth with respect. Am I always successful in enacting this approach? Absolutely not! I also believe that even the most painful experiences can teach us much if we choose to truly listen. However, I succumb to victim thinking in one of its many forms~~self-pity, anger, insecurity, fear, discouragement, hurt feelings~~all too often.

While I do feel regret if I have hurt another or missed an opportunity to grow myself, I don’t feel particularly bad about my shortcomings overall. It is simply my life lesson, and I am a work in progress. Life will always throw me something that will test me, and I will pass or fail those tests. This is just the way things are and, I assume, the way they are meant to be. As long as I’m attentive and generally moving forward, I feel I’m doing okay.

Seeing my task as self~mastery makes things rather simple. Each interaction becomes merely a different verse of the same song. No matter what confronts me~~from within or without~~my challenge is the same. When I choose to perceive the incident as opportunity rather than imposition, the context changes. I am offered an opening to deepen, to smooth my rough edges, to grow in wisdom. That certainly beats victim mentality any time!

I think self~mastery has been given a bum rap. Our 60’s culture taught a necessary wariness of control and discipline. By self~mastery, though, I don’t mean a regimentation that strangles the life from each moment. As we all know, some of the most spiritually advanced individuals are also the most spontaneous, flexible, and child~like in their ability to find pleasure in the simplest experiences.

By self~mastery, I am referring to the quest to know oneself well, and the ability to act from a deeper place than superficial egoic impulse. Self~ mastery requires and inspires an allegiance to a higher good than momentary personal whim.

In marital therapy, individuals are often assisted in aligning themselves with the needs of the couple, rather than simply pushing their own agendas. Self~mastery requires this same type of shift to that which is good for the whole. If I ‘win’ a battle by diminishing another, it is a Pyrrhic victory indeed since my adversary and I are joined in this thing called life. However, when I find a way to be true to my own conscience while respecting my opponent and the opportunity we are both being offered, an authentic victory is already achieved, no matter the actual outcome. And this type of victory is one that can enlarge us both.

So, let's bring this down to earth. The decision to write this essay came to me in the wee hours of the morning as I sat meditating (see Hot Flash As A Call To Prayer). I saw my task then as mastering a mind that prevented sleep by grabbing on to minutiae, a spirit that spun disastrous webs about the effects of sleeplessness on my day, and a will that was having trouble welcoming meditation when sleep was preferred, albeit seemingly out of reach. And of course, after the idea for this essay was established, self~mastery included releasing these thoughts to return to my meditation. This morning when plans for the day changed due to another’s anxiety, mastery included being flexible and welcoming other opportunities. When Plan A was reinstated, mastery required compassion for the rippling effects of fear. Mastery also entailed discussing with a dear friend my reactions to a misunderstanding, and doing so without rancor.  And within this writing itself, self~mastery reminds that when one word doesn’t work, a more appropriate one will appear and I needn’t fret. In other words, whatever occurs is just part of the song, and my reaction the next verse.

Self~mastery. A challenge that offers gifts aplenty. I hope this week finds you reaping your own rewards.

Namaste,

Loanne Marie

Worry, Epilogue

When I left for vacation, I thought I’d finished my exploration of worry and the anxiety that fuels it. I was wrong. At the very start of my journey, I realized I was merely takin’ it on the road...or to the airways, in this case.

The tiny prop plane I had boarded a few minutes earlier was now buffeted by strong winds zipping down the mountains to our west. There was to be no beverage service on this leg of the journey due to the turbulence. The flight attendant, strapped into her facing seat, sat with her eyes closed; I suspected she was praying. My fellow passengers were eerily quiet.

Although I no longer mind traveling by air, this flight was quite a challenge. I didn’t really believe we’d drop to the ground and burst into flames; other than the occasional stray thought, my attention wasn’t consumed by such pictures. My anxiety, however, was being tossed around with the rest of me.

I knew my emotions were responding to the signals of danger sent by a body and primitive brain structure that had no frame of reference for being bounced about like this a few thousand feet above the ground. I recognized I had a choice~~I could give my panic full sway, or I could opt for a more helpful focus. I chose the latter. I elected to trust in my safety and in the guidance available to me. I also chose to trust that there was a richness offered by this experience I was finding so unpleasant, if only I could meet it halfway. Meet it I did. I asked for help.

Immediately, my mind filled with an impression of a hurricane with its calm center. Not a particularly fresh metaphor, but exactly the one I needed at that moment. I got the message. This image was reminding me that my personal storm could best be dealt with by retreating into its eye.

So I withdrew into the undisturbed midpoint of this inner hurricane, and recognized it as the same spot I find in meditation and other such experiences. For a few seconds, I breathed within a place of stillness and watched the anxiety retreat. Very quickly, though, my balance wavered only slightly, centrifugal force kicked in, and I was thrown back into the tempest again.

But the metaphor continued to serve. I needed only to recall the image to know where I wanted to be. Imagery does that~~it communicates instantaneously, bypassing the slower, and often more entrenched and disagreeable, rational mind. I didn’t need to reason with myself or talk myself into anything. I just knew, and that knowledge seemed to shorten the path back to center. Once safely there again, the stage was set for the process to repeat, as it did many times~~calm, slip, zip, panic, imagine, traverse the path, calm.

Luckily, this was a short flight! Its lesson, however, remains with me. Not all my turbulence is so fierce; the challenge may be as innocuous as a busy brain or attention that meanders. But whether amid a taxing incident or within the quiet of my meditation, the image of the storm with its tranquil eye, continues to speak to me. While this metaphor has three components~~the storm, the eye, and the pathways that connect them~~ I am most cognizant these days of those connecting avenues.

Slipping back into the tempest is such an effortless thing~~that centrifugal force is mighty powerful! I know this is evidence that my balance is still quite precarious~~ one infinitesimal move away from absolute center, and I’m tossed out of Eden, swept into the winds once more.

Returning to the eye takes more finesse. First, I must see that I’ve again been pulled into the storm’s strong currents. This isn’t as easy as one might think~~ I am often zipping about in those blustery winds for quite awhile before I even notice my spinning! Once I’ve got that, I need to also recognize that an eye exists, as well as the pathway to get there. Then, I focus my eye on the eye, knit my intentions together, and choose to be there.

This metaphor both describes a familiar process and gives me a picture that helps me return to center when I’ve strayed. My consciousness relates holistically, and since this is the part of me that needs to catch what’s happening and decide a proper course of action, an image becomes effective shorthand. “Oh, it’s a hurricane! Get to the eye!”

Now, as is true of all things my mind can grasp, this metaphor is not perfect.  All is holy, whether it be the eye, the storm, or the paths between them.  And such divisions, too, are illusory.  However, this image does provide a shorthand clarification of my current task~~to choose to live in harmony rather than in discord.

So I wish you all smooth flying in the coming week. But if you do find yourself circling within your own storm, get ye to the eye!

Blessings!

Loanne Marie

Worry, Part I

In a recent essay, I defined meditation as the “gift of one’s complete attention to an activity.” When looked at from this viewpoint, we meditate in a variety of ways, and worry~~that all-consuming phenomenon~~is one of them.

As I’m using the term here, worry is comprised of both specific thoughts and the emotions and perspective that provide nourishment for those thoughts. Training our minds to forgo their tendency to gnaw on disturbing ideas and scenarios is necessary, but not sufficient. To make a profound change, one must go to the heart of an anxiety-provoking approach to life.

I know something about this topic, having personally wasted a fair amount of energy on anxiety. My current commitment to altering this tendency began several years ago. I’ve used the Tarot for decades, not in its predictive capacity, but for guidance in psychological and spiritual development. During the time period I’m referring to, I found myself frequently drawing the X of Wands. As anyone who has used the Tarot will tell you, when a card makes its appearance time and again, it’s a message to look at the issue embodied in the card.

The image in the traditional Waite-Ryder deck depicts a man trudging forward under the considerable weight of the 10 Wands he’s carrying. While interpretations vary somewhat, this card generally is seen as signaling a feeling of being overwhelmed.  Importantly, much of this burden is viewed as self-imposed. In addition to other suggestions, we are urged to lighten our load by becoming aware of, and changing, our perspective.

The X of Wands captures how I feel when I’m fretting--too much to carry, but with a surprising resistance to laying any of it down. And since this resistance seemed key, I knew a conscious decision to adopt a different outlook was needed.

As I worked with this card further, two additional images arose. The first was a figure, who now bore a striking resemblance to me, offering her wands to an unseen Presence. The second showed the wands suspended within a golden light and the woman sitting off to the side in meditation. These two images, drawn by my own hand, are now taped on either side of the window in my meditation space. They remind me to consciously offer my worried thoughts and feelings to Spirit, and to fill the space thus vacated with the Holy.

So, with all this as background, I found the process of writing this essay rather humorous. Time had been given to other things, and I was feeling rushed.  The writing was not going well. Without realizing it, I zipped into a worried outlook~~this as I wrote about worry! Would I finish the essay by my self-imposed deadline? Would I be able to craft my thoughts into an effective piece? Did I even have anything worthwhile to say on the subject?

The process of worry was thus delineated quite clearly. I had moved rather quickly from feeling a time pressure to doubting my worthiness. Quite the leap, eh? Worry is like that. It offers doubt a toehold and, if we don’t turn it around, zaps our spirit.

The definition of meditation I gave above was missing an all important word: conscious. Meditation is the conscious gift of one’s complete attention to an activity. A worry fest is, therefore, not truly a meditation as it is essentially an unconscious phenomenon. We unwittingly allow our attention to be consumed by anxiety, and our fear carries us off into territory that is not soul-friendly. Who would consciously choose that?! Life as it is, with its many dazzling manifestations and opportunities, passes right by--and so consumed are we by the web of our own creation that we hardly notice!

And so we need to replace our unconscious meditation with a conscious one. To that end, we need to accurately perceive what we’re giving our precious energy to and make other choices. For me, the image of offering up my anxiety works. It’s what I did~~finally~~in regards to this essay, and what came back to me was clarity about my own process, a suggestion to share that with you, and the groundwork for further exploration on this subject next week. A much better solution than a needless funk!

I wish you a worry-free week. But should you find yourself spinning your own anxious web, experiment with giving it away and filling yourself instead with Spirit.

Blessings!

Loanne Marie

Narrow Straw or Deep Smooth-Sided Aqueduct

There was a quote popular in the burgeoning spiritual movement of the late sixties that went something like, “Life is a feast and most of you are starving yourselves.” The truth of that resonates still, although a different metaphor comes to me these days. Despite the fact that we are surrounded by immense beauty, unbounded vitality, and profound love, we often sip these delights unaware and through the narrowest of straws.

Here’s how I conceptualize it. Each one of us exists in this world due to the gift of an indefinable energy. This animating force is infused into every cell of our bodies and each smidgeon of our spirits. It is always there, forever available. And yet, this substance that fuels our consciousness is most often hidden from it. Being the stuff of life, it is omnipresent and so, unfortunately, easy to ignore. As we take this immense gift for granted and instead focus our attention elsewhere, we allow the conduit for this life force to become puny, with just enough flow to sustain a meager life. We become stunted, experiencing a mere reflection of the richness we could have, the fullness we could be.

A main task of soulful living is to enlarge the channel. Here arises the image of an ingress for an abundance of that indescribable life energy--a deep, smooth-sided aqueduct. Rather than take the available bounty for granted, we build a channel worthy of such a substance. Rather than be content with a paltry flow, we choose to enlarge our capacity to partake of it.

But, how do we transform a tiny straw into a sturdy waterway? A good question for each of us to which we likely already know the answer. We each have at least an inkling of what brings us that experience of soul. For most of us, the difficulty is not so much in the knowing as in the doing. The trick is to value that intuitive guidance enough to follow it. We may need to override a dismissive tendency, or a belief that we can attend to our soul’s needs only after everything else is done. No, it needs to be a priority if we want to live an authentic life, wide open to the Sacred.

The ways to craft or enlarge our aqueduct will vary, given that we’re each uniquely wired. We may find what we need in the natural world, artistic endeavors, prayer, tending to the needs of others, meditation, church services...the list goes on. However, it is not enough to paint a picture, traverse a path through the deep woods, or sit in silence. One must create a stillness that is receptive to the flow. One must consciously and intentionally open. One must welcome the gift.

Opening is the key. The particular activities that enlarge our aqueduct are simply those things that encourage us, propel us, into openness. The lovely thing about this truth is that everything we do, if approached with a welcoming attitude, can become an avenue for the Sacred. When the Sacred, which is always present, meets our openness to it, which we can cultivate, then things really begin to happen. When that free will of ours is turned toward Spirit, a switch is thrown and a process of transformation is set in motion that seems to expand exponentially.

This metaphor grows stronger for me as I use it in meditation. When my aqueduct is wide open, I am filled with a hearty tide. As I become consumed by some variation of my personality’s minutia, I feel the channel of my consciousness narrow--only to expand again as I recognize the constriction and return to receptive awareness.

This image assists me, too, when my energy wanes during a busy day or when I get unreasonably annoyed or dismayed by life’s not conforming to my expectations. If I can remember then to consciously exchange my unintended straw for an intentional aqueduct, I immediately--after a few deep, soul-filling breaths anyway--feel better. Not totally filled, since I’m still comparatively new at this, but better.

Our part is to create, tend, and nurture the aqueduct, and then welcome the river it carries. The river does the rest. That’s when things start to happen that I can only begin to comprehend--a cleansing, a deepening, a clearing away of negativity accumulated over a lifetime. I suspect it is this internal healing process that accounts for the transformation so many of us experience following a conscious opening to Spirit.

The flow is there; it’s just a matter of how deep, wide, and smooth our channel to receive it...and how welcoming we are of the healing waters that wash through it and into us.

May your channel be deep and wide,

Blessings!

Loanne Marie

This, Too, Shall Pass

A few weeks ago, I gave up meditating on my zafu. It seems that my various body parts have aged at different rates, with my knees being at the front of the pack! The simple fact is that these two joints are much happier when I meditate sitting in a chair. This is just one of the reminders that, at age 52, my body is moving forward as planned on its trajectory toward dissolution.

I don’t find that fact morbid to acknowledge. If there is any truth to the assertion that we are spiritual beings having an earthly experience, it would seem that remaining cognizant of the transitory nature of our lives is, in fact, essential. The changes that come with age can thus become important reminders that everything, including oneself, will pass away.

It is quite a common human experience to become a bit flummoxed when one’s body begins to change. We all know the confusion adolescents often feel as puberty grabs hold and carries them off into adulthood. The process of physical decline that becomes apparent in mid~life and accelerates into old age is often disturbing as well. The fact that these changes carry us toward death adds a unique flavor to the challenge and puts us right up against what we really feel about the cycle of life.

I used to say, only somewhat facetiously, that I had no problem with getting older, I just never expected my body to change. It’s easy to acknowledge in the abstract that we’re all going to die. But when we see evidence of that fact in process through the aging of our bodies, it is another thing entirely.

The changes that come with age are simple reminders that we will not be long in this world. We can greet them with angst and do our best imitation of a poor sap in the throes of an unconscious mid-life crisis~~doing battle with the inevitable or attempting to avoid it through numbing or distracting ourselves with vapid new forms of entertainment. Or we can use these realities to nudge ourselves into a greater awareness of Spirit.

As the process of aging becomes irrefutable, many of us begin a period of evaluation. Are we living as we feel called to live? Does our life accurately reflect our core values? What aspects of our experience are working for us, and where are we holding ourselves back? What changes are we ready to make?

Approached with wisdom and intention, this mid-life questioning can bring a rich and vital reorientation, essential to allowing our inner spark to continue to shine brightly. As the process extends further, however, a subtle change may begin to take place. We may no longer simply reevaluate our life, but begin the process of letting go of it, or rather, letting go of the parts of it that are extraneous to soulful living. We can pare down, bit by bit, moving closer to that which is essential, to that which is true. The deterioration of our physical form can, if we let it, be the catalyst for this shift.

Sometimes growing older feels like a continual process of letting go~~of expectations, of illusions of control, of loved ones who move away or precede us across death’s threshold, of egoistic plans that show themselves finally to be empty of heart, of the self-image and schemes we’ve spent the first half of our lives creating, and yes, of our attachment to our physical being. This process accelerates in old age, and it seems wise to me that it does. During this time we are moving closer to the point of letting go completely~~of this body, this identity, this world. If we’re lucky, we might arrive at our death free of all but a rich and vibrant spirit.

I have a 98-year-old friend who talks with me about spirituality. I didn’t meet Jeanne until she was 82, so I don’t know what she looked like in her younger days. However, during the many silences that weave their way through our conversations, I gaze at her face and see a beauty I feel certain has grown deeper over the years. Yes, her body has aged~~her eyesight and hearing are failing, the condition of her lungs makes the simple act of breathing a challenge, and her once strong dancer’s body is now mostly confined to a wheelchair. But Jeanne radiates a loveliness and grace that has not been diminished by age. Her dancer’s soul remains and has grown more radiant, I suspect, as she has let go of much that is superfluous. In those moments of silence that envelop us, I see that Jeanne has relinquished more than physical weight. She has jettisoned much of what is unnecessary, and continues to discard more as she threads her way toward death.

The image of a hot air balloon comes to mind. Ballast is the material that provides stability to these vessels; throwing it overboard allows the balloon to rise to greater heights. I find this a lovely image for the process of conscious aging. Having become steadier within ourselves, we are free to discard what has now become simply extra weight. Thus, we soar higher...and higher still.

The physical changes of aging are simple facts speaking of what is true~~our time here is limited. If we’re wise, though, we will recognize these facts as the attention-getters they seem designed to be. It is important to take loving care of these bodies, our constant companions, so they can continue to support our living. It seems imperative, though, to also perceive the message behind the aches and pains, the hot flashes, the memory issues, the lowered energy levels. We will be movin’ on down the road relatively soon; given the possibilities of illness, natural disaster, and accidents, that time might come sooner than we think. It, therefore, seems essential that we not forget where we’re going, how we want to get there, and what condition we’d like to be in upon arrival~~whenever that might be.

I don’t mean to minimize the challenges inherent in such an endeavor, either for ourselves or as we watch our loved ones die or struggle with difficult illnesses. This afternoon I will attend a funeral of a dear man, dead in his early 60s from a virulent cancer. I love two women, recently widowed much earlier than expected, and a third who is now placing her husband in a nursing home due to advancing Alzheimer’s. As a psychotherapist, I understand that grieving and railing against the inevitable process of death and loss is a necessary undertaking. But when the anger is spent and the tears shed, where are we? What do we have? An acceptance that this is the way of life: birth, blossoming, maturity, decay, and death. Our emotional reactions will not change one thing about this succession, just bring an honest acceptance of it. These things will come to pass, whether or not we greet them consciously. And in that conscious greeting are gems that remain hidden should we turn our backs.

And so, my knee joints are giving out. They are simply at the forefront of an inevitable physical decline. Their deterioration brings with it an opportunity to practice letting go. Now, I let go of my beloved zafu, of my attachment to the image of sitting serenely (or not!) upon it. And as I do so, I realize I am flexing my letting-go muscles. There will likely be an untold number of letting-gos between now and the final one. Hopefully, by the time I arrive at my death, I will be well-versed in the practice, so that my ultimate departure will be a celebratory event that I am able to welcome with grace.

This, too, shall pass away~~whatever this might be, whenever that passing might come. So, here’s to greeting the inevitable signs of aging as reminders that our time in these bodies is limited. May we ultimately greet each one with warmth and another slight shift toward Spirit.

Namaste!

Loanne Marie

PS. There will be no change in this blog’s name. From the Chair, just doesn’t have the same ring!

Meditation Myths and Half Truths #3

Myth #3: The purpose of meditation is to have a mystical experience.

This is a popular misconception. It is also one of those myths that leads folks to abandon the practice when such experiences don’t come--or when those that do, don’t last.

Transitory experience of any kind is not the goal. The purpose of meditation is something much deeper and more lasting--the complete transformation of our lives. Sounds heady, I know, but it’s true. While you will have some meditations that are delightful, and may even have moments that could be described as mystical, you will likely have many sessions that are boring, irritating or downright disturbing. A meditation high is not the goal. If it is--even on an unconscious level--your meditation will be in danger of devolving into a technique for entertainment, an additional method of grasping, or just another project. And really, don’t we all devote enough of our precious energy to that sort of thing already?

Meditation helps us learn to be right here, right now. Our attention strays repeatedly, and we continually draw it back from wherever it has gone. In so doing, we begin to gain clarity about what we gravitate toward in the absence of any external stimulation. We become aware of the webs we weave, of our habitual tendencies and agendas, of the way we dissociate from pure experience--including experience of the Infinite--as a matter of course. But more important than any of these realizations--which might be interesting, but when all’s said and done, somewhat irrelevant--we increase our ability to bring it all back home, back to this moment. We learn to be present.

Over time, the effects of such a practice begin to filter into the rest of our lives. We learn to live more fully, to experience more deeply, to choose our focus more consciously. It’s what meditation does for us off the cushion that really matters. Are we calmer and more loving? Can we keep things in perspective? Do we recognize when we’re being carried off by a story line about the life in front of us rather than remaining alive to things simply as they are? Do we catch ourselves sooner when we’ve been snookered once more by our mind’s version of reality or when we behave badly? Can we come back to center? These abilities are the gifts of meditation.

And there is another one. Ultimately, as we practice wholeheartedly and steadily, we will be better able to recognize and open to the Divine as It appears within the stuff of our lives. Here’s the truth embedded within this particular myth. By enhancing our ability to be present, meditation can over time increase our capacity for direct experience of the Holy. So, while going to our cushion with an agenda is detrimental to being present with whatever happens there, we may eventually find ourselves coming into a more intimate relationship with the Sacred.

While many committed practitioners never have a direct experience of the Infinite while meditating, others do. Such encounters, however, are not worth much if they come without a sense of the Holy that carries into daily life. Being able to experience the Sacred in every moment of our small lives--in the beautiful and the terrifying--and to act from that awareness is to live within a mystical perspective. Meditation may or may not bring us the Hollywood version of discreet technicolor mystical encounters, but it can be a method toward adopting a mystical way of life. This is so much more valuable.

As has been said before, meditation is a relationship like any other. There will be highs and there will be lows. It is the ability to nurture an abiding devotion--day in, day out--that’s crucial. Otherwise, just as is the unfortunate reality of too many human marriages, you and your meditation practice may go your separate ways once the novelty wears off. And this is so unfortunate because, just as in those human relationships, it’s when the novelty wears off that things really get hoppin’. That’s when you can truly begin to grow and deepen.

One of the things I’ve learned as a psychotherapist is that big, in-your-face changes are not nearly as trustworthy as those that start small and steadily grow to bear fruit. I believe the same is true of meditation. If you do have a wildly ecstatic incident or an amazing vision, just be there as fully as you can--just as you do when you sit through a particularly annoying time. Keep your focus steady and remain open to whatever is given you. But don’t become too enamored of these times, and keep coming back to the process even when those knock-your-socks-off moments are few and far between. Remember, the real fruits will be experienced over time within your daily life.

While lovely experiences are...well...lovely,we do not meditate to get goodies. We meditate to live more fully--which I guess you could say is a goodie. It’s a goodie, though, that keeps giving long after your meditation session is over. Every moment we fully experience is a gift. And to the extent that these moments contain the seeds of further gifts, there is an exponential growth of goodies awaiting us. We just need to allow ourselves to perceive them and be with them fully. As we do, a mystical way of life may, indeed, become ours.

I have heard it said that our job in meditation is simply to show up. The rest is in God’s hands--however you conceptualize Him/Her/It. I like that. Our responsibility is to show up, day after day, through dry times and moist, through boring sittings and ones we might describe as magical. Just sit. Just be here. Now.

Namaste!

Loanne Marie

PS. For other Meditation Myths and Half-Truths in this series, please see Myth #1, Myth #2, and Myth #4. I'd love to hear about your experiences!

Meditation Myths and Half Truths #2

Myth #2: Meditation is for patient people only.

Not true! Patience is not a prerequisite. Most committed meditators have logged in many hours of impatience and restlessness--have become convinced their timer has malfunctioned or they’d forgotten to set it; have taken a break ‘just for a second’ to jot down an earthshaking insight or deal with a VERY IMPORTANT task; have answered the phone because it might be something urgent; have gotten up to put the cat out, let the cat in, check to see if perhaps the cat might be thinking of going out--whatever! Sitting still--minute after minute after minute--is enough to make anyone buggy at times.

With steady practice, though, one learns the ploys of a restless spirit and becomes less apt to snatch the bait. Gradually, one learns to rest within the stillness, even to rest beneath the agitation.

And so this myth does contain a truth. One needs to be patient with the overall process. Remember, this is a relationship like any other--the relationship between you and your meditation practice, between you and Spirit. It will take a while to recognize, and learn how to effectively cope with, the various strategies of a rambunctious disposition.

What’s important is having a method to work with impatience. In an earlier post, Myths #1, March 3rd, 2008, I discussed helpful ways to conceive of a meandering mind. Since restlessness is to the emotions what a wandering mind is to the intellect, the view I shared in that essay will work here as well, and I refer you back to it. To see your impatience as an expression of the ceaselessly creative universal force may help you be, well, more patient with your impatience. Gentler. Restlessness really is just the stuff of being human.

But other than having a helpful way of conceptualizing such basic human traits, what can you do? The first task is to pull back from judging. Truly, what would make you conclude you should not be impatient? Assuming you were raised in mainstream Western culture, you have had little encouragement to be still. Everything is fast-paced and oh, so busy. Stimulation abounds. Never a dull moment. Until you sit down to meditate, that is.

So, an individual who has been surrounded by busyness, infused with busyness, sits down for half an hour to meditate. How do you suppose such a person will react? If your answer is that they’d be delighted as the silence stretched out ad infinitum, you’d likely be wrong!

We human beings are quite the hoot. We seem to assume that whatever struggle we’re having is some sort of aberration, and that the rest of the human race sails through such waters with hardly a ripple. Even when we know better intellectually, we still respond as though we’re defective.

And if you give that tendency full sway, you will expand a smallish difficulty into a big ISSUE. You will not only feel impatient, but will feel inferior about feeling impatient! At the very least you’ll feel impatient with your impatience! And then, well, you might as well give up meditation all together because why bother, you’re hopeless! Obviously, not a helpful process!

But lets say, just for argument’s sake, that you are particularly impatient, more so than most. So what?!! One thing about sitting in silence is that it will likely bring up whatever entanglements you have. That very patient person you know? Sit him in silence for an extended period of time, day after day, and his issues, whatever they might be, will rise to the surface just as certainly as do yours. If you already know your challenge is impatience, congratulations! You’re just that much farther along.

Don’t turn this proclivity into something so big you’ll sabotage the whole endeavor. When we clamp down on a tendency such as this, we concretize it. What could have been a momentary, passing impatience becomes something we KNOW about ourselves, now and for all time. Instead of feeling fidgety at a particular moment, you may begin to view yourself as AN IMPATIENT PERSON. Case closed. Obviously, this is not true. Even someone with more than their share of impatience is not impatient every moment of every day. Repeatedly reinforcing a stereotype will give it so much more power, and will make it more difficult to see yourself with all your gradations, nuance, and rich textures.

So, now that we’ve cut this predilection down to size, what can you do about it? There are several techniques you might find helpful. And these can be applied to a wandering mind as well.

~~You can simply note the impatience and return to a concentrative technique--focusing on the rise and fall of your chest, counting each breath, repeating a mantra, etc. This method assumes that, in that moment and over time, withdrawing your precious energy will dissipate whatever emotional reaction you’re having. As often as it arises, just that often can you decide not to feed it, choose to disengage.

~~You can simply watch the impatience, noting where it’s centered in your body, it’s quality, its moment to moment alterations. Neither jumping in nor moving away, you let it be. Most often, something will change. Thoughts, feelings, and reactions tend to be quite fluid, seldom remaining the same for long. Without the story line, your experience can simply be what it is, thereby allowing for the possibility of change.

~~You can welcome Spirit in. Allow Spirit to enter you, let it permeate each cell of your body, each fragment of your soul--including, of course, the impatience. Turn the restlessness over to Spirit. Don’t grasp it so tightly; give it away, perhaps just for this instant. Ask Spirit to attend to it, while you let go into richness of the moment. Obviously, this works best for those who conceive of meditation as a communion with Spirit. You touch Spirit simply as you are, impatience and all. No need to be shy. No need to be other than you are. Just show up and give yourself--yes, all of you--to Spirit.

Over time, each of these approaches will teach experientially that we are more than our fleeting reactions. But these are just some ideas. If restlessness is your issue, you can also ask directly for guidance on how best to respond. Then be still and listen. Whether it’s Spirit or intuition that answers, you’ll likely get a nudge in one direction or another. Honor it. Follow it.

Months may pass before you find a rhythm that translates into a more accepting, calmer approach to meditation. Allow yourself this time to settle in. Trust the process. Trust your process. If you have felt ‘called’ to meditate, trust that the appropriate skills and attitude will come to you. Give yourself a chance to discover that this is, indeed, true.

May we each show up in our meditation practice, in our lives, simply as we are, and come to accept the inevitability of our blossoming, trusting and allowing the Essence within us to flower.

Namaste!

Loanne Marie

PS. For other Meditation Myths and Half-Truths in this series, please click on Myth #1, Myth #3, and Myth #4. I'd love to hear about your experiences!