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?
19 September 2010
16 August 2010
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.
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.
14 August 2010
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.
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.
06 August 2010
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.
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.
16 July 2010
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.
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.
08 July 2010
When Nature Comes Calling
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
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.
08 June 2010
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)