Happy, Healthy, Interesting New Year!

Wishing you a happy, healthy, interesting 2011!

And may the journey be rewarding.

Keeping Friends Close and Enemies Closer

Sun Tzu, a Chinese general and strategist from long ago, suggested we keep our friends close and our enemies closer.  From a strategic perspective, of course you want to know every move your enemies make.

Here's another perspective.  Both our friends and our enemies are on our minds a lot: we wonder what they're doing, have imaginary conversations (or battles) with them, wonder how they would like this or react to that.  This tells us about ourselves, too: how we think of them, how that reflects on how we think of ourselves, what's important to us.

Who our friends and enemies are also shows us what parts of ourselves we are friendly or inimical toward.  For example, a close friend of mine has some qualities that I find very irritating (the reverse is true, too) - directiveness (or, perhaps, bossiness).  The truth of the matter, when I look at myself, is that I have a strong aversion to being bossy myself.  It's part of my possible self that I don't know very well because I have consistently shoved it into a closet - a closet without a light, and with a pretty strong latch on the outside.

If friends can show us those parts of ourselves that we don't really want to look at or challenge, imagine what our enemies could do for us if we kept them close enough!

Heart's Desire

There's a teaching on the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path called the Staffs of Power.  These are not physical objects, but types of maturity related to our aspects (emotional, physical, mental, spiritual, soul force).  The very first one, the one upon which all the others are dependent, is related to our heart's desire - developing the ability to assume authority for it.

Sounds simple, doesn't it?

And yet, how many of us are actually good at it?  I know I'm not.  Perhaps I'm better than I used to be - almost certainly I'm better than I used to be.  But all kinds of things interfere with even knowing my heart's desire, much less assuming authority for it.

In fact, sometimes I don't think I really even know what "heart's desire" means.  Does it mean the thing I think will bring me happiness?  Something that I long for?  Something that will satisfy me in some way?  Something that will bring pleasure?  A relationship, perhaps?  (A Google search on "heart's desire" turns up a bridal shop, cross stitch shop, gift shop, among other things.) 

And there are so many aspects to desire - so many facets, different types and intensities, different directions of desire, which sometimes reinforce each other but often work against each other.

But maybe awareness of that tension is part of really knowing and assuming authority for my heart's desire.  As I've imagined it, this "assuming authority" thing would involve being aware of and responsible for what I truly desire - whether it is something I choose to act on or not.

As 2010 draws to a close, I'm looking back and reflecting.  It has been a year filled with changes and challenges. Some patterns I thought I had left behind me - this year especially related to work and food - have reappeared; at the same time, they have also shown me some new things about myself - for example, why I have developed such expertise at keeping people in my acquaintance circle rather than my friend circle.  And how habit combined with allowing pressure from others to guide my priorities keeps me quite distant from my own heart's desires.

Dreaming in this reality

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where something needed to happen very quickly, and for that to come to pass, a bunch of other things needed to come together?  And suddenly, as though someone had prepared the way for you, everything you needed to happen just happened, almost magically?  People you needed to talk to suddenly appeared or called you, events were cancelled leaving you with time to care for other pieces, and so on?

This happened to me recently.  It was a remarkable experience - so remarkable, in fact, that I remarked upon it to a mentor in the situation.  She said, essentially, it happened that way because you dreamed it into being that way.

That is a stretch for me.  And yet, it is certainly within the milieu of spiritual and personal growth, and/or pop culture (see, for example, Sweet Medicine SunDance Path Course of Study The Art of Dreaming, or Carlos Castaneda's The Art of Dreaming, or Harvey Mackay's Control Your Reality in Dreams).

I've experienced other instances of this, being at the right place at the right time for something perfect to happen. And in previous years I would probably have said, simply, sweet coincidence!  Now I'm not so sure.  I have a sense that there is some kind of interconnection between all things, which makes it possible either for me to know (at some still subconscious level) how to put myself in those situations, or for me to influence movements so that the situations are possible.

What do you think?  Have you experienced this?  Think the idea is ridiculous?

The Road Trip of Life

I came across a blog entry from Christopher Penn using a road trip analogy to illustrate the differences between vision, strategy and tactics, and, loving road trips but also knowing how they can sometimes go wrong, it provoked me into thinking about life.

 

Briefly, here is the analogy:

• vision = knowing why you're going
• strategy = knowing where you're going (that is, the destination)
• tactics = having the map which shows ways to get from here to there

 I like road trips, partly because I always learn something when I hit the road; and so this appeals to me.  I'm thinking about how it also helps demonstrate some of the things to watch out for in the strategic plan of everyday life.

A strategic plan is like a battle plan: you are putting together the best plan you know how to make in order to maximize your chances for victory. With a battle plan, it may be life and death; with a strategic plan, it's usually not quite so dire, but definitely can be success or failure for your endeavor. So, how best to approach it? As a warrior!

Or, in this case, as a road warrior.
Starting from the bottom with tactics: when you're on a road trip and you run into a detour, what happens?  You go out of your way, first of all, adding time and miles - energy expenditure.  Second, you may get lost.  Third, you may get distracted by what you find on your detour, spending more time than you intended.  Fourth, you may get so very distracted by the entrancing things on your detour that you completely lose sight of your original destination and purpose, and either get completely lost or just decide to stay there.

Not all of these are bad outcomes.  Sometimes, you have created your particular strategy (where you're going) or even vision (why you're going) from a place of ignorance: you simply didn't know a better reason or place existed.  Well, now your detour has shown you that it does.  Are you going to stick to your original plan even though you now know something much better, more effective exists?  A good warrior will not.

On the other hand, it is also completely possible to become so immersed in details - follow this detour sign, then that, turn left here and left again then right, now where the heck are we? - that you lose sight of the bigger picture - the ultimate destination.  You get lost, end up going in the opposite direction from your desired destination.  This is astonishingly easy to do in life.  In the satisfying of the moment-to-moment wants, or needs, or apparent needs, one can begin to make decisions which are not guided by the larger strategy and do not actually lead one to the desired destination - though they may make us momentarily more comfortable or happy or less distressed.

As I look at the times (and there are plenty) when I've gotten off track, they can certainly be characterized in this way: lost sight of the destination, started making decisions based on the wrong priorities.

  

Power is a Horse

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. Or so they say, reminding us that wishing and begging are two flavors of the same thing: being squarely rooted in lack, with no activity to bring about gain and an accompanying air of not deserving the gain being sought.

If beggars and wishers alike are horseless, what is the nature of the horse? In her book Medicine Cards, Jamie Sams writes about Horse as a teacher of power, a connection that resonates well with this adage. Power is what's missing when name a goal or desire but do nothing to achieve it.

In their vision statement, the non-profit group known as the Deer Tribe Metis Medicine Society (DTMMS) identifies power as a horse as well, along with beauty, knowledge, and freedom - the defining qualities that bring about a better world. Again, this is not just about waiting for things to get better - it's about making it happen.

One of the teachings of the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path (the spiritual lineage of DTMMS) looks at what it takes to master power. The secret? The Teacher of Loneliness. Hmmm.

On the surface, loneliness seems a bad thing - it certainly gets a bad rap. Loneliness is something we try to fix or solve, a state we try to avoid.

But in truth, loneliness is unavoidable. Our lives are so uniquely ours, there is no way to exactly align with another's. And really - isn't that a relief?

Meanwhile, birth and death are things we must do on our own; it's in the grand design. And though we may fear them because they are unknown, deep down isn't there a quiet knowing of just how utterly precious they are?

So, loneliness is a given, and there's something precious about it. But what? How about this: when we're lonely we don't even have the option of trying to please someone else. Being born and dying are audacious acts that are not performed for any other human being - they are fundamentally our own. And every lonely moment in between is the same story - when I'm the only one around, I'm the only one left to please.

Power is facing the depth of my own desire and purpose, stripped of the distractions of who I think I should be for others. Power is a horse we were each born to ride.

Rejuventation

I have been working (and working, and working - which is just wrong) on finding some balance in my life.  I have a darned good life - but sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed by it.  Often.  In fact, almost perpetually.  And this has been going on for several years now, intensifying each year.  Doesn't that sound charming?

Let's face it: there is just not much I do that I am willing to give up.  So I'm not going to achieve balance by making more time in my life.  In fact, I generally speaking would like to spend MORE time on each and every one of the things I already do. 

That's it's own challenge.  But the question of how to rejuvenate myself has become critical.

Here, in the US, we traditionally have several rejuvenation choices at our disposal: eating, sleeping, watching tv, taking a holiday or vacation, going out drinking/partying.  Some of those never worked for me; and now, none of them really do. 

I've been watching my energy levels as I go through my days, to see which of my activities leave me energized and which leave me drained. 

A good indicator - if a little late in the process - is checking in on how much hope I have.   Am I looking forward more than I was before to what's next, or to tomorrow, or to my next class or work task?  If so, whatever I just did brought some energy back into the system - good!  If not, if I'm dreading it and/or feeling like I don't have what it takes to get through it, then we have a problem.

I am surprised to see that some high-energy-output activites, like leading classes, are my current rejuvenators.  Go figure!

And I am curious: what do you find rejuvenates you these days?

A Spiritual Path Requires Balance

What is a spiritual path? Great question! The two preceding posts by Woman in the World definitely stir up some familiar thoughts, memories, and feelings. I, too, grew up Protestant. (Although likely in very different flavor than she did - the whole mega-church thing is a little suspicious among the Christians I know and love.) And by my young adult years, I also was yearning for something more.

For me, the initial hallmark of that longing was better recognition of the balance between the male and the female energies. I went to churches and prayed with people that were very inclusive of women, but the Christian pattern of either starting with male images and references and then working to expand from there, or of relegating the female to key support roles while defining the starring roles as male, just didn't work for me.

I found the counterbalance to this in pagan/wiccan spirituality in my 20s. There, the honoring of the feminine helped me learn about the unbounded mystery and power of the feminine, and taught me to a better connection to the earth and sky and moon, and to honor the wildness of nature that I found both around and within me.

But, indeed, my experience in pagan spirituality was a counterbalance - as skewed toward the feminine as my experience of Christianity was skewed toward the masculine. In both places I found myself subtly at war, working against the settledness and constraints of these spiritual expressions in order to honor something I knew instinctively as missing or off.

When I found the Flowering Tree Lodge, a teaching the Sweet Medicine SunDance tradition, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and had a palpable feeling of "coming home" - in large part because male/female balance is such a core tenant in this tradition. Here I found a radical challenge to know and discover on a daily basis how men and women are equal, even amidst all our differences; to honor and develop both the masculine and the feminine energies within me in balance; and to understand how its the balance and interaction of these two energies that makes creation possible.

And that, creation, is what I see as the defining characteristic of a spiritual path. Woman in the World talked about it as growth, some might call it evolution, or you might even just call it change. All of it is an act of creation, a birthing. And birth requires the egg and the seed and the mystery of what is made in their joining.

Like Woman in the World, I now have the sense that many forms of spirituality have the capacity to be a spiritual path: Christianity, wiccan spirituality, Judaism, etc. To find that stream, though, requires finding those arenas that are truly alive, that are based in the balance of female and male energies and thus able to produce life.

Celebrating and appreciating the life that has been produced has its place - I do enjoy showing up at 2 p.m. for the guided tour of some historic mansion where I learn about the story, triumphs, and challenges of some historic figure. There is much to be learned and appreciated there. But wandering repeatedly through those rooms is a path to nowhere.

The old saying "we create the path by walking it" says it well. Walking naturally happens in balance, shifting from left to right to left to right in a smooth flowing motion that takes us where we want to go. And it's out of that balance that we create the world we choose to walk in, and the person we choose to be in that world.

For me, that's the basis of a spiritual path.

More on the concept of Spiritual Path

I finished up my last entry with a statement about finding what I needed, namely, a spiritual path.  That, of course, brought up more questions for me.  For example: why did I need a spiritual path?  Why wasn't what I had in my church-of-origin "good enough"?

And here's the truth, sad though it may be: I needed a spiritual path because this whole connection to spirit thing was very hard for me.  I could not conceive of what it was, nor how to do it.  (Or, at least, say I was blocked in my conception of it.)  Though I definitely got something, a variety of things, out of going to church, I felt something missing, and I did not know how to take what I had into what I was seeking.

In other words, I needed more help.  I needed something that would start where I was, and that would speak to me in a language that I could understand.  That is really what I was looking for.

And the very first thing I needed was a better (that is, more understandable to me), broader, different, deeper, something, understanding of what spirituality is, of what "spirit" is.  Some of the first teachings (they come along in the first year of Red Lodge, for example) in the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path are related to exactly that: our human aspects (emotions, physical, mental, spiritual, and soul force) and what part they play in our lives.  For me, that was very helpful indeed.  Without that teaching, I'm not sure I would have made it.

So, one of the biggest gifts this Sweet Medicine SunDance Path has given to me is simply the ability to expand my understanding of what a spiritual connection is and how one might make that connection.  For that, I am and will forever be grateful.

What Is a Spiritual Path?

Not so long ago I asked a friend - someone I know has a variety of spiritual connections - what she considered to be her spiritual path.   After some reflection, she responded that her art was her spiritual path. 

That conversation set me to thinking about the meaning of "spiritual path" as opposed to "spirituality."

I grew up in a Protestant family.  I went to church for many years, and had very moving spirtual experiences.  But, as I look back on that time, I know that it never felt like a path.  That is, I felt like I was either in or out; either connected to Christ and God, or not.  And in my conversations with Christian friends, and with folks who were evangelizing, that was usually the question: have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior?   If one had, then one went to heaven; if not, well, tough luck.  Rather than a path, it felt more like a fork in the road. 

The church I attended has grown from a rather small neighborhood church to a mini-megachurch in the years since then, so obviously what they are doing works for a lot of people.  It just left me feeling like there should be more - but I didn't have any idea what that "more" might be.

Though I was aware that one could mature emotionally and physically, and continue learning, I had no concept of the development of spiritual maturity. 

Years later I found the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path.  In this tradition, there are progressions of ceremonies and teachings for the development of spiritual (as well as emotional, physical, and mental) maturity.  I initially came in because some of the teachings were so immediately useful - but have stayed because it consistently helps me to see increasingly deeper things about myself, about life, about spirit; and gives me tools to grow with that.  It's incredibly rich and varied, and has this progression - which, in my experience, works.

As I reflected on the conversation with my friend, I realized that this progression, this growth path, is exactly what I missed in my earlier Christian experience. 

So, for me, there are 2 keys to "spiritual path": the connection to spirit, and a path for growth.

Now, with more knowledge and experience, I know that Christianity also provides this. Could I have found this at the church I attended early in life?  Not easily.  Had I wanted to become a minister, I might perhaps have found it in the education.  In an earlier era, I might have found it as a nun.  But my childhood church was more focused on building a cohesive community than on individual spiritual growth (beyond the necessary acceptance of Christ, of course).  It wasn't quite what I was looking for.

I was looking for what I needed: a spiritual path.

When Nature Comes Calling Part 2

There was another nature incident at my house.  One morning walking through the garage, I heard a strange noise.  It was not a big noise, just a little one; coming from among a stack of stored boxes and things. 

It was a rattlesnake - a very handsome one, too.

I would say I am not scared of them, but that I do have a healthy respect for them.

I've encountered them before, on the trails around Phoenix; I've even been that close to them before (about 1 1/2 feet away).  I've had them rattle at me before.  I've even captured one, using a snake catcher, from my yard and moved it into a nearby vacant area.

I've never had one in my interior living space before, however.

This one was tucked in between some boxes, well protected, very difficult to reach.  I decided to call the local herpetologists.  They came, and quickly and efficiently removed the snake.

Here's the part that keeps tugging at me.  Once the herpetology fellow had placed the snake safely in the container and we were just chatting, I heard a persistent meowing at the back door.  There was a cat out there that I had never seen before.  It was very friendly and very communicative.  I explained to it what was going on, and apologetically closed the door so it wouldn't come into the garage.  Never since have I seen that cat.

Like Gibbs on NCIS, I don't really believe in coincidences.  And, although I don't believe that all of nature is conspiring just to tell me something, I do believe that (a) I can learn from any situation, and often something deeper than initially appears; and (b) there is more to the way things work than I know.  I have no doubt that the simultaneous presence of the snake and the peculiar cat meant something, and was an opportunity for me to learn something about my connection to nature (yes, a link to another Sweet Medicine SunDance teaching).  And the beauty and strangeness of the moment is undeniable.

Leaving me to wonder - and in wonderment.  Though I can't say what it means, I can say that it was a moment of magic.

When Nature Comes Calling

The house in which I live suddenly started dripping honey. 

Turns out there was at least one, possibly several bee colonies/hives in the walls of the house.  The one removed today weighed over 100 lbs.  That's a lot of honey.

So we know these things:

• if we wanted to be beekeepers, we should have given them a place to live that worked for us, too
• if we didn't want to be beekeepers, we should have encouraged them to move out much sooner
• part of the reason we didn't was pure ignorance - we didn't know what they were actually up to, had never experienced a bee colony
• bees are incredibly good at what they do, and are masters at community cooperation, efficiency, and (within their scope) protection

In the process of dealing with this, we investigated bees and learned quite a bit about them (e.g., see the Carl Hayden Bee Research Center site), including how to deal with a bee attack as victim or rescuer; also generally more about what Africanized bees are and how they differ from European honeybees (which, in case ya didn't know, are also not native to this continent, which apparently got along ok without that style of bees for a long, long time). 

We also learned some choice bits about how we face the unknown, what specific kinds of fears come up. 

Not to mention learning how hundreds of live, angry bees sound, or how the floor looks with hundreds of dead bees on it.  And, not to be too mushy or sensitive, but also how it feels to know you are responsible for killing hundreds (thousands?) of creatures that were not intentionally causing you harm - but nevertheless were causing you harm.

Wouldn't it be great if we could communicate with them?  If we were so aligned with the world and all the other creatures that we could just have a little conference with them and say, hey, that's a really bad place for you to live.  How about this place over here instead? 

Sometimes the link between the everyday world and spirituality seems a little vague, a little misty; other times, visible but just not touchable.

Healing and the New Day

Well, the spiritual impact of disease and healing seems to be the topic of choice. Not just Woman in the World and her bout with appendicitis, but my friend Joan is writing about healing, too. Ok - I'm in!

The connections between illness and spiritual awakening are familiar ones to me. It was a summer spent in the hospital thirteen years ago that launched me on some of the spiritual work I find most valuable now - not because of some big confrontation with death (although there was a bit of that), but because I'd been longing to make that change before the hospital stay but denying myself on the grounds of too little time, too little money. My body blew that argument out of the water, pointing out that there was plenty of time and money to be sick and in pain. Finding the time and money to be happy took on a new meaning after that.

But maybe more important are the profound little changes that illness and healing have brought me. Like the vow I made many years ago in a healing ceremony to caress my body each and every day of my life, viscerally remembering how astoundingly grateful I am to be incarnate. In the beginning, that vow took a lot of attention. Over time it became second nature, something I did easily, casually, reliably.

And then it expanded from there. I began seeing myself in mirrors and acknowledging my reflection in the same way, caressing the image through my glance, loving myself for being myself. It became my own private joke, a wink I shared with myself, an affirmation that continually caught me by surprise and never failed to feed me.

Now these caresses, this intimacy with myself, have become my foundation, my way in the world. Yesterday morning I glanced in the bathroom mirror and felt a thrill, seeing the lover in myself. Today was more about curiosity, glimpsing the way age is changing me, expressing itself through me. Whatever the flavor, each day is welcome. And that, I must say, is a healing many times over.

Appendicitis

This may be a "part 1" - appendicitis is, for me, a big topic.  That's because - as you might guess - I had it not so very long ago.  And it was a very significant experience.

First of all, there's the knowledge that, if it had happened in another time and place, I'd be dead.  That's all.  I'd just be dead.  So what I have now, post-appendicitis, is in a sense a new life.  I need not have had it, but I do.

Second, there's the impact of the experience.  When I was feeling well enough to stand up and wash myself, I had the rather painful luxury of being able at the same time to look at myself in the mirror.  It was like getting a preview of what my body would look like in 5-10 years if I didn't take care of it.  It scared the heck out of me.

The combination of those two things was a little like that old movie, It's a Wonderful Life.  I got to see two alternate realities, with the opportunity to choose either of them - or something different.

In the Sweet Medicine Sundance healing paradigm, an illness is sometimes referred to as a "knock of spirit."  That is, it's our higher self's way of saying, hey, bud, wake up!  Is this what you really want to be doing?  Appendicitis was like that for me.  It's easy to say that at the time something like that happens, but - speaking for myself - the proof of it really comes later.  Did I really take the opportunity to change something?  Or did I just make a big fuss about how profound it was and go back to exactly what I was doing before?

I was just looking at this a few days ago, and realizing that I had indeed, without really acknowledging it (though certainly intentionally), made some significant changes in my life.  They're not really huge - certain things that I used to do with less dedication are not negotiable anymore; and I'm more likely to be guided by my body's needs rather than attempting to silence or distract from them. 

The changes are subtle enough that, until I sat down to write to a friend and did some reflection about my life now, I had not known they were in place.  I wasn't exactly trying to make them; I simply did.

Hunger for the More

It's striking to me how relentlessly life can seem a struggle, cycles of feeling thwarted, lost, adrift in doubt and negativity. In truth, though, flooded in all that self-pity, the real world is drowned.

Reality is fairly simple. Yes, there is pain, and dishes to be done. And that to do list looming...But what is to be gained by poking and prodding at each of those details, searching them for meaning or, worse, for a different reality than the one that truly is?

How do I stop playing with misery, knowing that there is more to my relationship with God than supplication? It is not so hard to love myself, or to see how each day is precious, or even to see that joy is somehow fed by my breath. It's easy to see the light bouncing off the faces of those I spend time with, reflections of the curious wonders of life and the delight of sharing them with others.

These are secrets easily known if only I am willing to stop the habit of denying them. And a good weapon for that is realizing how much the negativity bores me, always looking and sounding the same, creating the same predictable outcomes.

But there's a stronger weapon yet: hunger. It's not just a matter of rising above it all, untouched. There is something here, in my human moments, in this body and this life, something that needs tending and transforming. But working at, making it a struggle...that's not the point. What is life if I stop arguing and instead open to my longing, letting it guide me?

What if I stop trying to prove that I'm worth something more, and instead just choose it?

Making Changes

Several years ago, I found the absolute best system for making changes in my life that I have ever come across: the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path .  The combination of teachings and ceremony on this path are hands-down the most effective tools for making conscious, proactive, holistic change that I've encountered.  (I've linked above to the Red Lodge description because it comes closest to describing how the teachings, ceremony and experience fits together to create the fertile change ground I've felt.)  Because of this, I've been able to make my life much better, much faster, than I had thought likely possible.

And yet - there are still places in my life where I'm just not where I want to be, where I've been stuck for a while, and I don't know how to move from where I am.  Some of them are pretty important.

This week, I found myself (ok, it wasn't an accident, or unexpected) observing a workshop on making organizational change. One of the techniques they used was Force Field Analysis, a social science technique developed by Kurt Lewin.  Here is a vast simplification:

1. related to the change you desire to make, list the forces driving the change and the forces opposing
2. evaluate the driving forces - which are the strongest? which can be easily increased?
3. evaluate the opposing forces - which are the strongest? which can be easily weakened?
4. develop a plan of action based on the above analysis

I think this is usually applied in business or social settings rather than individual (but it's so new to me I don't know for sure).  In this setting, there are application worksheets and 2nd-level analysis and so on. 

However, for me, in my state of stasis, the idea that by simply increasing or decreasing the strength of one force will change the balance of forces in such a way that the change can happen - in whatever time frame - is really exciting. 

It gives me a new tool, a new approach, for those things that don't respond well to the tools I have.  If the nut won't come off with the open-end wrench, maybe you need a socket wrench with a long handle.  If you can't pull the screw out with a hammer, maybe a screwdriver would work better. 

I'm already making my list of driving and opposing forces.  I'll let you know how it comes out.

Here are a couple of places to fine force field analysis information:

• On valuebasedmanagement.net
• At Mind Tools

Walking Our Own Road

A friend of mind is a health coach and also a spiritual seeker - she writes about the intersection of the two on her Blogger blog: The Path to Enlightenment Is Paved By... I love that title - the way it makes you think about the end of the sentence, realizing that each of us have to pave our own way, in our own way.

She's taught me a lot about how that's true with healing. We're both kind of unique, having each healed ourselves from some pretty major arthritis. We both got it young (me at 14, her in her 20s I think), and we both had a lot of pain for a lot of years. And we both found our way out to the other side. So, the irony is there is that we're pretty similar in our uniqueness.

But we're really different, too, and we each created our healing our own way. Her strategies, discipline, and sequence didn't look very much like mine at all, and we each embraced truths along the way that didn't hold true for the other.

Healing, enlightenment, oneness...there is no one recipe, formula, or law to get there. What matters is the going - "the will to do, and the willingness to engage," as another friend of mine says. That old "we make the road by walking it" thing - each of us, our own footsteps, our own way.

Balance

There was a time not so long ago that I could at least count on December to be a fairly quiet month.  The school year was mostly over, and the holidays, though busy, were nothing like the rest of the year.  Somehow that changed over the last two years or so.  And with that change, the rest of the year also stepped across the next threshhold of more-things-than-the-time-available-would-seem-to-allow.  I have not yet come into balance with this new way of things - heck, I hadn't really come into balance with the older, somewhat less busy way of things. 

Clearly, something is being demanded of me - by me.  I am at a point where, because of this imbalance, I am giving less than my best to things which need only my best.  And there are still more things asking for my time and attention. 

And, on top of that, there are things demanding an even higher standard of integrity and command than I have ever encountered in my life.

I admit I am somewhat at a loss.  One thing that seems relevant is strength of mind (see http://dtmms.org/readingroom/7values/strength_of_mind.htm).  In particular, allowing "pretender voices" (the negative self-talk that shows us ourselves and the world around us through our version of funhouse mirrors - see "Board of Mis-Directors" site http://boardofmisdirectors.com/ for examples from a different perspective) to rule our thought processes screws everything up. 

Another piece, I think, is related to effort.  When I take the direct route - not to say the path of least resistance, by any means, but the route that leads most directly to the outcome I am seeking - it often frees up time and energy for other things.  Even if it is impolitic, or unexpected, or different from the social norms I'm supposed to follow.  "Supposed to" - that's probably a key phrase.

Again, I come back to questions: is it just a matter of saying "no"?  Is it efficiency, and/or ruthlessness (in the best sense, of course)?  Is it just the way life develops?  Does everyone experience this? 

Alone and Together

For the past few years, my most searing question has been one of connection - what does it mean to be both an individual and part of something greater? There are days I ache with this question and all its unknowns and contradictions. There are days when this question sustains me, an infinite well of inspiration.

Of course I find my answers through living the question. Today I find them in quiet moments alone spent reading, feeling lonely yet full to bursting with the gift of others, all at the same time. I'm reading My Name is Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok, about a boy who is both an Hasidic Jew and a brilliant artist - a nearly unbearable contradiction. In my quiet moments with this book I am living his need to be who he is, and these moments caress all the other moments of my life, awakening them further.

This concept of artistic originality is truly compelling to me - what does it meant to bring the raw truth of who we are, in many ways rejecting what the world would impel us to be? How can it be that this very act of rejection is the most sure way to embrace and love the world we are in?

Some days I feel overwhelmed by these questions. That is when I write, seeking the connections.

Cultural Trajectories

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I recently read a couple of books about Islam:

Destiny Disrupted: A History of the World Through Islamic Eyes, by Tamim Ansary

The Trouble with Islam Today, by Irshad Manji

Destiny Disrupted in particular was a revelation.

At the risk of appearing to oversimplify, let me say this: one of the things that impressed me about this sweeping history was how much and how persistently people are people, no matter where they live, what their culture or religion.

Here’s the theme that I saw in common with all the other histories I’m familiar with.

1. Someone has a really good idea. In this case, it was Mohammed. In other cases, it might be Jesus, or the founding fathers of the US, etc.  
2. People (in one aspect of their peopleness) are impressed by this idea, and align themselves with it.
3. All goes well for a while, except of course having to deal with the existing societal structure (i.e., power structure) that is threatened by this new idea. (The ruling class tried to kill Mohammed, leading to the Hijra; Jesus was crucified and his followers persecuted; and England didn’t take kindly to the colonies’ leaving the fold.) But by and large, this new idea actually works and things go well.
4. Over time, however, another aspect of the peopleness of people takes over, and the powerful find ways to infiltrate the new system and leverage it to their advantage. This leads to a corruption of the system, stratification of society, consolidation of power once again.
5. However, it also leads to a boom in culture. Once some people have the wealth to have leisure, all kinds of things like writing, education and study, music, philosophy, architecture, and so on, bloom.
6. And then it fades, often because of the weakening of the ruling class through the adoption of hereditary succession (not every son is as good as his father), or because someone more brutal comes in and takes over.
7. And then someone says, hey, this bad thing happened because we were not true to our original principles. We need to go back to where we started, to re-purify, and everything will be all right.  (Or, alternately, someone could suggest reformation to fix the problems.)
8. Then we start a perhaps smaller cycle as above.

It's a bit of a spiritual (and societal) conundrum.  The acquisition of power leads to some level of security, which in turn makes it possible to develop culturally, but also makes corruption pretty much inevitable.  And corruption is rather like kudzu - hard to eradicate.  The introduction of a powerful new idea can shake it up for a bit, but maybe not long.  The tension between the two is one of the ways we grow, both culturally and as individuals. 

And yet, eventually, the resulting culture becomes weak enough that another sweeps in and takes over.  Inevitably? 
The measure of safety/security and  reliable abundance seems to be critical.  At the point where we give up too much to get or retain those things, we lose something important.  ("It is only through ignorance that we surrender our freedom"; "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.")  But is that only true if we give up freedom to the wrong powers (that is, is it ok to give it up to the Catholic Church, say, or to the government of our own country)?  And exactly where is the balance?

Again - more questions than answers.  Dang.

Islam, History, Spirituality, Individuality - Questions

It is one of those days where, while highly peeved about having a cold, I am also grateful for it. Without the cold, and my resulting lack of energy to do much besides read, I don’t know when I would have gotten to these two books which have been on my reading list for months now:
Destiny Disrupted: A History of the World Through Islamic Eyes, by Tamim Ansary

The Trouble with Islam Today, by Irshad Manji

I started with Destiny Disrupted, because it promised not just a look into what’s happening now, but an overview of the arc of the history of Islam and hence a deeper understanding of its course of development. And wow. Did I learn a lot.

I realized shortly into the book that my ignorace about Islamic history was nothing short of profound. I hesitate to admit it – but I didn’t realize that the Ottoman Empire was Islamic. I just thought it was Persian. I didn’t realize that when the Mongols swept down through that part of the world, that they settled in to an existing Islamic society – at least, what was left of it after their devastating invasion - and adopted Islam. In short, I was clueless about the importance of Islam in the history of the Middle East (not to mention northern Africa, southern Spain, eastern Europe, and much of Asia).

One of the most interesting aspects, for me, was the perspective on the development of the parameters of Islam.  From both books, it sounds like the structure of Islam has developed primarily through scholars devoted to the study of what Mohammed did in his time, and for new situations, the careful deduction of what he might be supposed to do based on his life.  Because there are generations of scholars who have devoted their lives to this study, the common person has no reason even to think about these things - and in fact is discouraged from such thinking. 

This is pretty much diametrically opposed to something like the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path (see the article on the acquisition of knowledge, in particular the 4th paragraph, or Why Do We Need Rites of Passage?), with the emphasis it puts on free-thinking and autonomy as the ideal for all people and absolutely necessary for spiritual evolution, or the highly decentralized Wicca (see http://www.religioustolerance.org/witchcra.htm), or perhaps any spiritual path that emphasizes individual experience of God or Spirit.  Some of this is almost certainly cultural: Islam emerged in a society where the cohesion of the collective was critical for survival; other spiritual paths came out of cultures that emphasized individuality more. 

Overall, the reading left me with many more questions than answers.  I now have many more books on my reading list.

Self-respect for a New Year

It's the new year, and of course that raises questions: for example, just exactly how will this year be new?

I found myself digging through my files today, looking for notes on a writing project that's held my attention for a long time, but never enough to actually bring it to completion. Turns out the last time I looked at it seriously was nearly seven years ago. Yikes.

There was nothing new on this project last year, or the year before, or the year before that...and it would be so easy to for this year to be the same old same old: all the reasons I put this project down are alive and well.

But, here it is, January 1, and look - the year is indeed new! I have already done something different by remembering it, digging it out, thumbing through the pages. But how does this one step actually become something new rather than than just being swallowed up in the stultifying old pattern of neglect?

I'm reading an article that suggests that self-respect is the key. Self-respect as in: setting a clear intent, taking responsibility for seeing it through, standing accountable for all that comes of it. Or, in other words, doing it because it's important to me rather than letting all those reasons win the day.