Heaven and Hell

Do we create our own heaven and hell in our daily lives?  Here is a story that is food for thought:  A big burly samurai comes to the wise man and says, “Tell me the nature of heaven and hell.” And the roshi looks him in the face and says: “Why should I tell a scruffy, disgusting, miserable slob like you?” The samurai starts to get purple in the face, his hair starts to stand up, but the roshi won’t stop, he keeps saying, “A miserable worm like you, do you think I should tell you anything?” Consumed by rage, the samurai draws his sword, and he’s just about to cut off the head of the roshi. Then the roshi says, “That’s hell.” The samurai, who is in fact a sensitive person, instantly gets it, that he just created his own hell; he was deep in hell. It was black and hot, filled with hatred, self-protection, anger, and resentment, so much so that he was going to kill this man. Tears fill his eyes and he starts to cry and he puts his palms together and the roshi says, “That’s heaven.”

I believe that this story points out that in each moment we are in a position to choose where we will be.  The samurai asks the roshi/holy man to tell him the nature of heaven and hell.  The roshi allows the samurai to experience the difference in the moment of their encounter and to feel both hell and heaven. It then became his reality.

I believe this is a daily occurrence in life.  Feelings of anger and rage can pull us into our own hell, while acceptance, surrender, and love allow us to experience heaven. When something provokes our anger, the reason we get angry is because we are holding on to how we think something should be. We are denying how it really is. It is the expectations of the mind that creates the experience of hell.  Examining our expectations, rather than just our frustrations, we find that much of our emotional suffering is created by what we think should be rather than our being able to accept things as they are.

It seems to me that the samurai in the above story believed the roshi would supply a direct answer to his question, but the holy man let him have his own experience of the nature of these two states.  In a flash the samurai felt rage, drew his sword, prepared to cut off the roshi's head.  When the roshi pointed out that this is hell the samurai realized that his rage created his hell and in that moment he surrendered to love and felt the peace of heaven.

In that moment the samurai examined his expectations of what he thought should happen (he thought the holy man would provide the answer), and surrendered to what was happening (he felt hell and heaven within himself) and surrendered to the reality and wisdom of what was rather than clinging to what he thought should be.  How often do we find ourselves in similar situations, trapped between our expectations and the reality of things? 

I can think of numerous times in a day where my expectations cloud my perception and acceptance of reality.  I find that expectations can often be subtle and when I find myself reacting I realize that my expectations create my agitation.  Learning to be sensitive to myself helps me to realize when my acceptance of reality is being clouded by my expectations.

Expectations are a part of enculturalation; a part of what culture has taught me to believe is truth.  Learning how to think critically helps me to examine and evaluate these encultureated beliefs for myself.  In doing this I begin to step beyond my expectations and the cultural concept of truth.  Shedding these encultureated truths allows me to move out of a state of conflict and into a place of peace.  The journey from hell to heaven, or vice-versa, is generated from within and I am responsible for this.  

  
I make this journey by my choice of hanging on to encultureated expectations, or surrendering to the energy of the moment and going with the flow that allows me to move beyond expectations.  Like the samurai when I accept the wisdom of my experience, not my expectations but my experience, then, as the roshi says, that's heaven. 

It is always our choice.  

Being Gentle With Myself

I find that being upset with me results in devastating effects on my self esteem.  Criticizing and devaluing myself only leads to making me feel ill and not healthy.  Self criticism plays havoc with my state of well-being.  It sends a danger signal to my nervous system that can result in a fight/flight mode just like being chased by a bear.  Being chased by a bear will resolve itself rather quickly, but continued emotional stress and trauma can go on and on.

Danger from within is more devastating than danger from without because it is constantly being agitated by my thoughts and feelings.  Being in this constant state of agitation slows down my cellular growth and repair, digestive and immune functions, and higher cognitive processes in order to help me prioritize my mid-brain function to facilitate escape.  Unfortunately in this play of self criticism it is me that I am trying to escape from; an impossible task...

Learning to value me as I am is where I begin to be gentle with me.  Being gentle with myself I learn to accept my mistakes as just that, mistakes, not major catastrophes.  Mistakes are lessons to teach me as I move through life. I learn from them and move on.  I don't define them as who I am but only that they are the teachers that guide me on my life's journey. My world and my self esteem do not rise and fall on my mistakes, they are just the sign posts on this journey.

In being gentle with me I learn not to take myself so seriously.  It is a lesson in staying present in the moment.  Past regrets and future anticipations do not exist in the present.  Letting them go allows me to move fully into the joy of the moment. In each moment I do the best that I can which moves me out of the could have, should have, would have thinking.  If I don't like something I am doing, feeling, or thinking then I change it in the moment.  If I do like it then I can stay present in that awareness.

Every moment is a new beginning and as I remember this I am reminded to be gentle with me. Realizing and understanding this I am propelled into self-love and self-acceptance and this helps me remain strong at the center of myself.  When I stay in that place it is much easier to be kind to me.  I then am not sending danger signals to my body because I see and treat me as a loving friend rather than someone to fear.  I no longer gear my senses for escape but know that all is well within me.  My thoughts and feelings are in balance with my body, and my physical and cognitive functions are free to support rather than work against me. 

  

My inner landscape resembles this picture of calm and tranquility instead of fighting and trying to escape from myself.  In doing this I promote my health, physically, mentally, and emotionally.  It is, I believe, a state we all want, and by stepping out of our way of fighting with ourselves I feel we each have the opportunity to reach this.  Staying present in each moment and loving and accepting ourselves we learn to move out of the agitation of fight/flight mode and into becoming peaceful with ourselves.  This gentle approach to ourselves lengthen lives and brings tranquility into the world. I believe that learning to be gentle with ourselves is one of the most important lessons of life. 

Enjoy the day, my friends....
                 

Attachment

"Attachment has no nobility. Attachment to knowledge is not different from any other gratifying addiction. Attachment is self-absorption, whether at the lowest or at the highest level. Attachment is self-deception, it is an escape from the hollowness of the self." 

An interesting look at the universal human experience of attachment.  Perhaps we do attach to "things" to avoid our feelings of being hollow/empty within.  The past three years I daily confront this sense of "hollowness of self", and daily I must decide how I wish to fill it.

It can be a struggle to not give into becoming self absorbed.  There are times that I teeter on the edge, and sometimes fall into the feelings of making this all about me.  There is the "poor me" side that takes me toward self pity, and there is the "I am doing so well" side that takes me into a sense of self grandeur.  Both are an attachment to my ego which gives a false sense of self.

If I will live only in each moment appreciating what is taking place I am less likely to fall into the me-isms of me.  Being in the moment it is difficult to fall into self pity or self grandeur because those thoughts occur out of the now.  When I am not in the now I become attached to the "what ifs" of life and indulge in the play of self-deception.

Self-deception is hollow.  It is the creation of self-illusion to which great amounts of time and energy must be applied to sustain the illusion.  If I engage in this deception I then create an illusion for attachment.  An illusion is something that is wrongly perceived or interpreted by the senses.  The more ingrained the illusion is to my senses the more tightly I attach to it.  

This image shows an illusion; depending on how you focus your gaze you can see two very different things.   Some see a cup others see two faces and many can discern both.  Once you have recognized both images it is easy to switch your focus back and forth.  I do not attach to either picture because I discern both, but when I first looked at this image I saw the cup; after gazing at it for awhile I discerned two face.  Both exist; depending on your focus.

Attachment is how I believe in my perception and often won't or can't recognize another perception.  I can like my perceptions, enjoy my possessions, and at the same time know that these things do not define who I am.  My car is not me even though others may identify me with my car.  My car is an outer symbol of me but it is not me.  Everything in my life symbolizes me but these things are not me.  Clinging to these things is attachment, and it is this that causes suffering.

Suffering is not caused by these things it is caused by my hanging on and attaching to these things.  If I lock in my perception to these things I attach to them and that will lead to suffering.  If I change my focus, like with the above picture, I learn to relax my grip on my perception and begin to accept that none of this is really me.  I am not my car, my house, my belongings, what I do, etc; these are what others recognize me through but none of this is me.

How I relate to all the existential trappings of my life can become a gratifying addiction for me.  Learning to detach, to realize these are not me, helps me loosen my grip and to move into letting go of my mind/ego hold on these trappings.  It is not about what I have or don't have, it is about how I relate to these things.  Addiction of any kind may be defined by how I relate to the outer trappings in my life.  

Hmm---food for thought. 

Ah Ho, My Friends 

Leaving, Loss, and Grief

This is a subject I have thought a lot about since my stroke.  There is the obvious loss of some of my abilities and the grief I have had to work through, but what I am talking about today is the loss of so many people who I thought were my friends....

I have spent the past three plus years coming to grips with this.  While in the hospital I was flooded with visitors and well wishers.  People were there to support and encourage me in this life changing event, and for that I am grateful.  But, and this is the caveat, when I came home, when the fact of dealing with a post stroke friend in a wheelchair became a reality many people left me.  

I have intellectually realized that their abandonment is about them, not me, but in my heart I felt angry and alone.  I also knew that to continue on my road to health I needed to resolve this anger and until I did I would trap myself in a place I did not want to be.  My writing about this today, and my plan to publish this post, is a declaration of my stepping beyond this anger and grief and into a place that I feel good about and about the work I continue to do.

It also has been a wonderful, put painful, reminder that we all abandon each other in times of need; that, unfortunately, is the human condition.  So when anger begins to grow I need to stop and look at each person from their point of view, their fear, there unwillingness to address this vulnerability within themselves.  

I know that it is easier to face the vulnerabilities in those you do not really know.  To become a hospice volunteer, to send money to causes, to speak in hushed tones about the losses of those who have only marginally touched your lives, but to embrace someone you know and say you cared about in the midst of their suffering is another matter entirely.

I say this because I have been there, have been such a friend, and have walked away when the going got too tough.  I understand how and why such things happen.  The people who have fallen away from my life are no different than me.  They are good people who couldn't stand strong, can't walk beside me not carrying me but only supporting me, as I regained my strength.  Their fears are that my needs will be too great.  I also know that no ones needs are too great; it is the unmet dependency needs we each must dance with that causes our fears.  When that dance is resolved we then know in our guts that no ones needs will overwhelm us.  When we have danced that dance within ourselves we are free to be.  What an amazing, wonderful, freeing feeling this is..............FREE TO BE!!!

As I sit here composing this post many names and faces of past friendships pass through my thoughts.  There is a moment of sadness, but that is quickly replaced with joy.  These past friends have touched me, changed me, and taught me valuable lessons.  To be who and where I am today is the  gift they have left me with.  As I write this it is with humble gratitude that I accept this gift.  It is the next step in my journey and I am grateful. It transforms leaving, loss, and grief into the freedom to be me..... Thank you!!! 

       

The Red Bench Of Waiting

It is often difficult to wait.  As I wait for the arrival of a friend my thoughts flow to other times and places that I have had to wait.

Like the above picture waiting can feel like the red bench in a black and white photo.  I sit quietly attempting to harness my impatience, but underneath I sit on the red bench of anticipation. 

In the waiting there is much I can do; my thoughts run in many directions, from worry, to letting go, to so many things.  Since my stroke life for me has been about waiting; whether it be for a friend, an appointment, results, or life.  I use to take life head on; setting goals, planning my days and my actions during those days, and at some level mistakenly feeling in control.

The biggest lesson I have learned post stroke is that I am not, and never have been, in control.  That is an illusion of ego.  My mind and ego may believe that I am in control, but the truth is I am not.  Perhaps the greatest lesson of waiting is patience.  With patience I am reminded that the only way to be in control is to surrender; and in that surrender I find that I do have control over my destiny; one moment at a time.

My friend's lateness led to this post.  Posting about waiting helped me understand that the red bench of anticipation helps me look at and explore my options in the moment.  Exploring my thoughts and feelings about waiting and anticipation allowed me to forget my friend being late and when she arrived I had become so absorbed in this post that I no longer thought she was late.

My stroke happened; I can either work with is or against it.  I have learned when I work against something I increase the resistance of whatever "it" is.  When I work with "it" the resistance evaporates.  Whether dealing with waiting for a friend or accepting and working with my post stroke symptoms the results of surrender are amazing.  Surrender is not giving up, rather it is learning to go with the flow of the energy in any situation.

In surrender I learn discernment that helps me to be impeccable in my actions.  When I do this I no longer question my choices but act from the certainty of being centered in me. It is a freeing and empowering feeling; to chose me and to know that this choice is centered in me; not self centered me, but in the me that is centered in myself.  That is a huge difference.

It is the lesson of balance.  When I stand in that place I make choices that are life enhancing.  I chose myself, not over others, but with all others in mind, and the awareness of the good of all.  Whether it is waiting on a friend or a life changing experience like my stroke it is the discernment of balance that creates impeccable actions.

Point and Period!!  

 

Hidden Things

Another painting has been discovered beneath Picasso's masterpiece "The Blue Room".  X rays show that the painting underneath is this portrait...

It has long been a practice for artists to paint over an oil on canvas; probably to conserve canvases, or to begin another painting over one that they don't like, or to change the direction a painting is going.  The world is now fascinated by the portrait of the man beneath The Blue Room.  Who was he?  What significance did he have for Picasso?  Why did Picasso choose to paint over this portrait in favor of The Blue Room?  Much has been speculated and written about The Blue Room, but nothing is known about the man in the portrait.

It may have been as simple as a young, starving artist like Picasso who at the time reused the canvas to conserve his money.  Or perhaps Picasso saw an opportunity to have a woman model nude for him and felt the man in the painting could be painted over.  Whatever the reason a masterpiece came about; a very decisive moment for Picasso as an artist.

The point of my interest in this comes from the idea that painted over images are like our past and our ability to remember.  What is visible to the observer is often not the whole story....Thus the title of this post...Hidden Things.  

What is hidden from view in our lives?  Many things are hidden from that person as well as, and perhaps more so, than from the observer.  Painting over and rewriting our histories is a part of the human experience. Unfortunately the unremembered experience can have a powerful impact in and on our current functioning.

There are times when my life has gone in a direction that I came to not like.  These were times I have often attempted to hide from my conscious self.  Like the artist who paints over her previous brush strokes to create a different picture, my changing can be like the hidden images beneath the finished masterpiece.  But unless I recognize and accept these hidden images under the picture I cannot become who I truly am.

These hidden brush strokes are a part of who I am today.  The work, like the starving artist, are each a brush stroke toward the masterpiece; whether I like them or not, they are the strokes that have gone into my creation.  If we would consider our lives as masterpieces and that their creation is the process of all our work, conscious or unconscious, perhaps we can learn to accept ourselves without judgement and with the understanding that we each are a work in progress.

The process is what makes us interesting.  It is not for judgement by ourselves or others, but is for our learning from each experience.  In this way the different brush strokes create the masterpieces of life.  Painting over what was once there is how we evolve and grow.  Learning from both our successes and our mistakes are the brushstrokes that creates our lives.  All is necessary and important.  When we learn this important lesson we begin to step beyond judging and into the awareness that each life is special.

The realization that artists may start, paint over, and start again their art is a wonderful metaphor of living life; realizing that each brushstroke is a learning experience that helps us unfold and evolve into becoming authentically who we are.

It time and with conscious work I believe we each will become a masterpiece of our lives; much like Monet's Morning on The Seine: 

 

The Age Of Me....isms

I recently posted about learning how to become a reflective listener.*  Today I am reflecting about a trend in journalism that seems to focus more on the reporter than on the news she/he is reporting.  The journalist, whether in print, on electronic media, or on TV should, I believe, separate him/herself from the story, and report on the facts.  If those facts have been hidden from the public then a good reporter rolls up her/his sleeves and wades into the quagmire of this non-transparent situation.  Getting and reporting the truth becomes more important than personnel accolades.

The news is not about the person reporting it; it is about the facts and presenting these facts in a clear concise manner that helps the reader discern the truth of a situation.  The reporters' thoughts and feelings will be reflected in the words of the report, but do not have to include personnel antidotes of the reporter's life.  The reader/listener should be able to discern on their own the tone and texture of the article....

This, I feel, is the mark of a good journalist.  It comes with practice, maturity, and with wise counsel and good mentors.  New reporters can benefit from sage guidance.  Realizing that thousands have proceeded them; reviewing these peoples vast works; learning to apply what they learn to their own style; and learning that their gift and skill is to be accurate reporters of all events is where to begin.  Taking who they think they are out of the mix, letting their personalities flavor the report, but not be the main ingredient is what I believe separates good reporters from the want-to-be amateurs. After all it is not their being there that is important it is their ability to report what they see, hear, and experience that is important.  

As on old ad says, "an inquiring mind wants to know"... I add not only an inquiring mind, but an impartial mind... Remove ME...isms from news reporting and focus on the news that is happening out there not on who you are.

An impartial mind that is not self-centered, but is rather centered in self, allows for the reporting of all news to be more honest, helpful, and non-prejudiced.  This in my opinion is the mark of excellent journalism and great journalists.  

* Refer to earlier post "Reflections" *   

Sea Dragon

A sculpture by Nita Sunderland graces the courtyard of the Peoria Civic Center.  It is called the Sea Dragon; Nita is one of the great and talented people of Peoria.

 Read on to uncover the connection to today's blog....


Here is a blog that is by a young man who is the son of a good friend: http://storyofthesummer.tumblr.com/

It is about the story of summer in Peoria, and about the disenfranchisement of many who live here.  I see this disenfranchisement of many others than those reflected in his article, and who are ignored by the powers that be...  Some of these folks have risen in spite of how this community has received them, and in some cases has literally slapped them down in their attempts for recognition.  My blog today is for all the disenfranchised... who ever and where ever you are. 

Interesting article on the full moon and the other Peoria; having lived here since the early 1970’s I have always seen this other Peoria; the Peoria that Richard Pryor has described and mocked through his comedy.  It is a community that snubs or ignores its famous; a community that is more interested in serving the great yellow god called CAT than acknowledging and rewarding those who have talent and could bring real fame to this community.  A city where mediocrity is rewarded and genius is ignored, at best, and is punished at worst.

When the great yellow god held power, until the early 1980’s, this was a city whose main focus and function was to produce workers whose effort fed this hungry god.  Education and educators were programmed to serve this need for mediocrity by encouraging their young not to think critically; after all critical thinking does not produce the fodder needed by the hungry manufacturing industry.  A population of critical thinkers may have no interest or desire to feed this god, and if there is no supply of workers how would this industry god survive?

So slowly but surely critical thinking as a part of education was removed from Peoria’s educational system and from most of those employed by it.  Students were no longer challenged to think critically, to solve real problems, or to make real contributions to the world.  The community ignored or pushed out those who have made deep insightful and meaningful contributions to society.  Sadly many of these great people are not known by the majority of the folks that populate Peoria; other Peoria, real people of Peoria, or otherwise.

Jose Phillip Farmer, Nita Sunderland, Preston Jackson, Marlene Miller, Richard Pryor, Betty Friedan to name  just a few.  There is no interest by those in political power to remember the talented brilliant people that add a whole new dimension to the term “other Peoria”.  This Peoria, like the one you write about is also populated by folks who have been disenfranchised, like those in your Story of the Summer, but they too are as you say, "more resilient than every moneyed politician, developer and powerful member of the status quo could ever be".

The names I mention, and many, many others, have risen above the petty political games of this community; and in spite of this they have used their talents, their intellect, and their ability to express their beliefs to make great contributions to the world.  Perhaps someday each of those who have made a real mark on the world will be taken in by this community, recognized, and honored for their great contributions.  At least that is my dream.  But until then your words of pointing out what to me is obvious may cause people to wake up and realize what really is going on right here and now in River City.

Good article!!

Google the names I have mentioned above and read about some of the great and lasting contributions made by these treasures from Peoria. Nita Sunderland is one of many such Peorians, and this makes me proud to say that I am from Peoria. 

A Life Well Lived

I spent this morning watching a live stream tribute to Maya Angelou's life, from Wake Forrest University.  One of the most poignant things said was by Bill Clinton; he said, and I paraphrase, "Maya did not speak for five years of her young life, but when she finally did what a voice she had; almost like God had loaned her his voice.  God knew it was time to take that voice back for awhile and so Maya slipped away in her sleep".  I thought what a beautiful way, with meaningful words, to celebrate her life and her death.

I feel a tribute is for us to take away something that is important to our lives and perhaps something that will change us.  What I heard this morning was that Maya was always working on changing and improving the human experience.  She was tireless in her work and millions have been touched and changed by her words and her life.  She was not shy or reticent, stood when and where she needed to stand for right treatment of all all people, and with that strong deep voice, she stood and spoke for those who had momentarily lost their voices.

It was helpful to hear Michelle Obama describe her first meeting with Maya in 2008 when they shared the stage in Winston-Salem North Carolina.  Maya was by then in a wheel chair, but Michelle related that as she was rolled onto the stage her essence captivated the audience; and Michelle felt her own spirit rise with Maya, and she knew that she was in her right place.  Such is the grace and power of a Phenomenally Phenomenal Woman.  And Maya's words spoke to and touched a young white girl in Kansas, so that her daughter was named after Maya, and she raised her son to become the first black President of the USA. 

What a legacy she leaves to all of us; to never give up no matter what happens; to always believe in ourselves; to face success and disaster with the same grace; and to realize that we each are chosen to do great and wonderful things.  Dare to be brave and to have the courage of your beliefs....  Hers was a life well lived.

So as I sit here in a wheelchair realizing that her last years were spent in a wheelchair, I am reminded that this wheelchair and my stroke do not define me and my life.  They are where I am now, but they are not not me, yet they  can strengthen both my voice and my words.  Like the Phoenix and Maya I rise to soar strong and free.

In October I will present a four week class on "Mapping Your Life" at Bradley University.  My wheelchair does not define me but it does add strength and resilience to my words.  Thirty years ago Wake Forrest University invited Maya to join their faculty.  Though she was a life-long learner Maya did not posses a college degree.  This did not stop her from being a teacher who wrote, and a writer who taught; her life was her education, and she lived it fully and completely.

She has for me become, like in her poem "On the Pulse of Morning", the Rock.  From her death she invites me to come and stand upon her shoulders and face my destiny, but to seek no haven in here shadow, there is no hiding place down here. 

I realize that she has given us each a foundation to build from.  She was human, and even though it may have seemed to many that she spoke with God's voice, it really was her voice that had grown and developed throughout her life by the way she allowed her experiences to shape her. It is her life that defined her just as mine defines me.  She did not hesitate or back away when her life beckoned her forward and that is the example I will follow; to have the courage of my beliefs.  That, I believe, is a life well lived.      

D-Day 2014

A friend shared this email with me today:

We were in Normandy 2 years ago and when we were at the American cemetery our young guide shared with us a wonderful tradition that the people of Normandy have carried on for 70 years now.  After the war, everyone or almost everyone, in Normandy “adopted” a deceased soldier  and they would prayer for that soldier and his family, correspond with that soldier’s family, decorate their grave and do anything they could to honor that soldier.  She showed us the grave of the soldier her grandfather “adopted” and how he decorated the grave and corresponded with the family until her grandfather died.  Then her father carried on the tradition and now our young guide and her sister carries it on.  She said when she has children and she becomes too old to care for the grave or correspond with the descendants of the soldier’s family, her kids will carry on the tradition.  She reiterated over and over how thankful the people have Normandy are for what the American soldiers did for them and that they are just ingrained with gratitude from the time they are young.  

I thought it was a lovely tradition and showed how after 70 years they are still so grateful.

Yours in remembrance,

Nancy

Our American culture has never experienced the ravages of war and occupation, unless you are Native American, and then these facts are all too well known to you.  But as a culture we have forgotten the importance of tradition and to honor those who have sacrificed for us.  We may have lost our connection to family where a tradition like the one described above could happen.  It is encouraging to find that in some cultures this tradition remains and is passed down from generation to generation.  

Remembrance allows us to honor those who have gone before and to live our lives is a way that honors those who will follow.  Native American culture teaches honor to the past seven generations and to the next seven generation.  In this way there is a continuity of honor and remembering of those who have gone before and to those who will follow.  This is how tradition is made and carried on.

It seems that in Normandy a tradition of honoring those soldiers who gave their lives in the war has carried on through several generations. And the tradition appears to be done with love and gratitude for the sake of remembering the sacrifice that was made so that others could be free.

Another friend of mine's adult son ask for remembrances of D-Day so I forwarded him this email.  I am happy that many young people are remembering what was done that day and the sacrifices that were made.  I hope that we never forget.

I also remember that my father who was in WWII, and my mother who waited with faith that he would return unharmed, believed that this was the war that would make the world safe.  Unfortunately it didn't.  We are still fighting wars in foreign lands and lives are still sacrificed, although we, the American public, have come to realize that war is fueled by greed, and only benefits those in power.

Our returning soldiers are now treated better than those who returned from Viet Nam, but they still are left to heal the psychological wounds that war causes.  At least these wounds are now acknowledged and somewhat better understood than in my husband's day as a Viet Nam Vet, and my father's day after WWII.  

I guess we call this progress; although I feel real progress is the ending of the need and greed that fuels the hungry war machine.  So I sit between my desire to honor those who made this sacrifice and my awareness that war is the most useless and destructive force in the world.  War feeds our most basic instincts, but those who have served deserve our highest honor for their sacrifices.

The people of Normandy give us an example of how not to forget those brave souls who answered the call of our country, who served, and the many who have died in this service.  Gratitude is a gift each soldier demands and deserves.  I hope that on this D-Day we each will take a moment to remember all those who have served our country.

Namaste, my friends.

Reflections

Several years ago I decided on the above logo for my office. A willow reflected in water, and movement seen in that reflection of the tree..................

It's what I did as a therapist; reflective listening.  It taught me that most people want this in life; someone who will listen without judging and who will reflect what they hear.  It can help change the course of a life.  To be heard without judgment, to experience understanding, can help another reflect on her/his life, and in that reflecting make different choices.

So I become a reflecting pond; in which the client can begin to see him/herself realistically, and through that reflection can begin to move toward change.  It sounds like a very good thing, and it is.  But, and this is the caveat, the reflective listener must be at a place in her/his life where he/she can listen without the client's story activating the reflective listener's story.  If that happens then the process of being able to listen reflectively is no longer working....

Over the years and with a lot of work on me I became a reflective listener.  I had to get out of my way, which in essence meant I had to resolve my past.  We all have past issues that unless they are resolved blocks our ability to reflectively listen to each other.

There are countless examples of those who make every conversation about them.  I think far more people fall into this category than that of a reflective listener.  We live in a "me" centered culture.  This seems to be a growing malaise, and has, in my thinking, drastic long term effects. 

I believe that more and more people are raised in a climate of tolerance for living a self-centered life, as opposed to a life of being centered in their self.  There is a vast difference between self-centered and centered in the self.  When I am centered in myself I can relax into hearing what another has to say without making it all about me.  Being self-centered I need to make it all about me.

If someones story becomes all about me I cannot help them seek solutions and make changes in their situations.  The story has become about me, and I respond by telling them what I did in a similar situation, or what I think they should do, and in doing this I take the focus off of them and place it directly on me.  I am no longer listening reflectively.

I think most people can recount stories of experiences like this; where someone hears what is said but turns it around to be all about them.  I feel that when this happens we abandon each other.  As a therapist it was my job to be present to hear the others story, and to have my own issues, at the very least, under control, and at the very best, resolved so that I did not make their stories about me. 

 
I feel it is a rare and valuable gift to find a friend who can hear me without making it all about her or him.  I have been fortunate to have a few such friends, not as therapists or professionals, but just as friends who will listen reflectively, and I feel completely heard by them.

I feel the art of reflective listening has become a lost art.  So many people are lost in their own heads, thoughts, lives, and concerns that they have no idea how to listen reflectively.  As they are listening to another their thinking is so self involved they can't break out of the restraints of being self absorbed.  This is, I believe, an awful prison to be trapped in.

I recently read a comment by a chef whose goal is to teach people to cook for their families.  He feels that if families learn to communicate with each other over food they prepare then he will contribute to society by teaching them the art of cooking.  Instead of watch TV, texting, playing with hand held computer games this chef hopes the meal time will become a time when family members get to know each other.  So many me-centered people have not had this experience; there is no family time, no opportunity to get to know each other, which makes it almost impossible to learn the skill of reflective listening.

Remaining human, listening to each other in ways that they feel heard, and being totally present in each moment will result in breaking the bars of this self involved prison.  Stepping out of the narrow constraints of self into the larger world allows us to become reflective listeners. 

In my experience doing this takes courage; the courage to come to know my self, and the courage to act in accordance with my beliefs.  As I practice this I impact others, and my actions show the courage of my beliefs.  This is how I believe we change; one person at a time.  In the words of the lazy yogi: Courage.... "Don't argue your path with other people; walk it..."

Hari Om my friends....

Midwestern Renaissance

So many of my friends including both of my sons live in very cool, exciting places.  I often feel that coming from Peoria, IL seems boring by comparison. Then I experience a moment where I realize that every place has its own character and holds a sense of wonder and excitement of its own, if I will just take the time to notice.

This picture was taken last spring when we had flooding; it made me think of Venice with its waterways and channels.  After all it is not about changing my view but is about changing my perception of that view.  Rather than seeing my hometown as boring I might need to take a new look at it through fresh eyes.  There is a group of people, merchants and community leaders, who are doing just this right here in Peoria.

Their excitement spurred me to post the following on Facebook...

So, on a recommendation on Renaissance Park Community Association web page I decided to try A world of wings Wed 20 wings for $10. I am so glad I did. First the new intersection and traffic flow pattern are great. W Main Street is beautiful. There are green spaces between the buildings and street that not only are visually pleasing but it has to make the pedestrians feel safer as they walk. The intersections are nicely laid out and are again walker and biker friendly. Although Main Street was busy the traffic flow was good and easy to navigate. A World of wings is not handicapped accessible, I knew this from pictures on their web page, so we ordered take out. Ranch wings, which they say is the favorite, and Parmesan garlic, which is my favorite, are the wings we ordered with a large side of their hand cut french fries. We were not disappointed; the wings were large, meaty, flavorful, and messy. Unfortunately by the time we got home the fries were soggy, but were definitely real potatoes that probably would be great if eaten when served. 
W Main is being revitalized thanks to the work of groups like Renaissance Park Association, and it is exciting to see and feel the new energy that is flowing into this area. Take time to go by, visit the many new businesses that are popping up throughout the area, and if you are free check out their first Friday happening on June 6th. Plan to have lunch or dinner at one of the many restaurants in this area, enjoy the art open houses, and listen for the live music coming from their community gardens; you will be glad you did!!  

As I rode down Main Street I was delighted at the world that unfolded before me.  Old buildings had been revitalized and are being maintained.  Young faces and new businesses are cropping up along this old street, intermixed with new buildings as the community prepares for a Renaissance. Hope and new life are pouring into this area that is being called Renaissance Park.  New life is springing forth; where revitalization meets western world thought.

A community garden grows next to a gas station and old buildings are transformed into new business, with new owners, and are repaired and cared for.

This is the place I come from and for me there is a sense of pride is in this.  Peoria holds as much potential as do the other exciting places that my friends and my sons live.  Changing how I view my environment is as beneficial as changing that environment.  A big THANKS to all who hold a similar vision of making life beautiful where you live.