I applied for the position of an “Opinion Columnist” in our local newspaper. A good friend/writer colleague had suggested I apply.
It might seem odd to those who might think a committed spiritual person may not have a lot of interest in the things of the world, but that is untrue. We care deeply about all of life, and we recognize our life in this world as the richest venue for development of consciousness.
Admittedly, spiritual practices are not the most commonly recognized ways of making a positive contribution.
For example, this quotation by Lewis Thomas that was the WORD FOR THE DAY from Gratefulness.org today: Society evolves not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other. An entire program of Nonviolent Communication has been developed by Marshall Rosenberg.
When I opened the Thought for Today from Deep Spring Center, Aaron’s words fit beautifully:
When groups get together to make a statement such as about the war, it’s easy for the fear elements of the group to become the most loudly heard. Thus in your present world it is all the more important that those of you who have some clarity and know how to be present with your fear with spaciousness, step forth and become an active voice for a force of change, a true expression of soul force, or satyagraha. You must be willing to actively involve yourself with the world rather than withdrawing from the world, for it is only by the modeling of you who are more clearly that others can learn such clarity.
Satyagraha is the idea of nonviolent resistance (fighting with peace) started by Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi used satyagraha in the Indian independence movement and also during his earlier struggle in South Africa.
The best way to understand this idea is to be honest about what I am feeling. If I am feeling angry, I am adding anger to the pot. Fortunately, it is possible to desire change, to speak up against things like cruelty or injustice, and to do so with a heart of genuine love. I can even feel compassion for those I am calling forth a different behavior from.
The Kusala Sutta from the Buddha speaks clearly to this idea:
Abandon what is unskillful . . . One can abandon the unskillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do so. If this abandoning of the unskillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to abandon it. But as the abandoning of the unskillful brings benefit and happiness, Therefore, I say, ‘Abandon what is unskillful!’
Cultivate that which is skillful. One can cultivate the skillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do it. If this cultivation of the skillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to do it.
I will let you know if I get the columnist position. It is a nonpaid job, but my opinion might just be very valuable.
heartbreak (noun): the vast pain that we suffer in response to our expectations
not being met in some way.
A facet of reality as a human being.
So if you’re experiencing heartbreak,
be it romantic, in your work life,
or if you feel let down by society overall,
I’m here for you.
Love Hurts:
Buddhist Advice for the Heartbroken
by Lodro Rinzler
I did not expect to be writing about heartbreak ten days before Christmas, but these words from Shambhala Publications seem so relevant.
Yesterday was the birthday of my dear friend, Claudia. Today, Claudia’s beloved husband, Wayne, was settled into the memory care unit of a facility about ten minutes from their home. Expectations not being met in some way? You bet.
One year ago, another friend, Erin, gave birth to twins knowing her daughter, Ella, had anencephaly. Ella packed a lifetime of memories into her short three-and-one-half-days. Heartbroken? Understandably so. (See About Our Ella.)
A family member is waiting for biopsy results, having received a diagnosis of cancer last week. A facet of reality as a human being.
I cannot address in one blog post all of the people I know who are heartbroken about life, and those feeling let down by society overall.
Last evening, Claudia and her adult daughter, Carmen, and I sat on my living room sofa wrapped in warm blankets. Zoom transported us into a spiritual group meeting being held a few hours away where we met with friends in Texas and Michigan and Canada. The message was one of love. Not just that you are loved, but that you ARE love.
While at retreat in October I wrote in my journal, “I want to celebrate Christmas.” (See Jesus Loves Me.)
Celebrating Christmas is not about buying presents, but it is about gifts. It was a gift to make a birthday dinner for Claudia, and a gift to be with our spiritual friends via technology. It will be a gift to spend time with Erin tomorrow, honoring Ella’s powerful life.
Although it is early, I am making my New Years resolution: Live what Wayne said the last morning he woke up in their home, “What I know to be true is love is all that’s real.”
When we were kids, we dealt with difficult situations.
Sometimes we were bullied.
Sometimes we didn’t get a new toy.
Sometimes we were yelled at.
We then developed defenses based on these events.
The problem is that a lot of the times we don’t grow up
and move on past these defenses or events.
They stay repressed and lodged within our brains,
and come out if we feel something similar to the past occurring.
As the saying goes: “You don’t fear the future, you fear the past recurring.”
The early morning events of December 8, 2016, were so unpredictable they beg being honored as the movement of the divine.
I had done a lunch & learn for a delightful group at the Kalamazoo County Justice Complex on Wednesday, and I had stayed over in Parkview Hills. About 7:00 am, Joel and I went out into his garage to leave for Full City Café to meet our breakfast book club group.
Joel pushed his garage door opener. The motor started and the door came up about six or eight inches and stopped as the motor kept turning. He repeated the process a couple more times with the same results.
“I can drive,” I offered. (He has two garage doors so each is on a separate opener. The door opener to the side of his garage that my van was parked in worked fine.)
We transferred all of our stuff into my van. I slid in behind the wheel. Joel got into the passenger seat.
“Let me see if I can open it manually,” Joel said as I backed out of the garage. I stopped.
Everything in me felt I should drive. I said nothing. Joel tried unsuccessfully to trip the release and open the door manually.
While we were at breakfast, it began to snow. It was coming down pretty hard, and we had to clean my van off when we left the restaurant. We had run some errands the evening before, and we agreed it was a good thing we had done that given the weather.
Traffic was backed up on Oakland as we headed back toward Joel’s. It was hard to see what was holding things up, but as we got a bit closer it was obvious cars were having difficulty getting up the hill after stopping at the light at Kilgore. Each time the light turned green, one or two cars managed to slip-slide up the hill before the light was red again.
When it was my turn my wheels just keep spinning. Any attempt to give it more gas only caused my van to slide sideways. It is a new vehicle and I don’t yet feel like I have a familiar sense of how it handles.
My nerves snapped. My breathing was spasmodic, and I could hear myself sighing. My heart was racing and I was gripping the wheel as though this was a life-or-death situation.
Joel sat calmly (if not patiently) in the passenger seat.
I swear my legs were jumping almost out of the sockets. I was so close to bursting into tears it is not even funny. Fortunately, after a couple more lights, I got enough traction to make it up the hill. We stopped at the health food store, and got back to Joel’s house without additional incident.
A bit later, as I left Joel’s house and headed back to St. Joseph, I had a powerful flashback.
I was five years old. My family had gone to Arkansas because I father’s father was gravely ill and not expected to live. On our way back to Michigan, we got caught in an ice storm in Cairo, Illinois. The hill was steep. Cars were sliding off into the ditches, some were bumping into each other. I remember seeing police flashers.
I think my dad must have been drinking. When my dad got out of the car to see if something could be done, he fell down. My mom was hysterical. I could feel my little body trembling.
Suddenly, my emotions behind the wheel a bit earlier made sense. My inner child was reliving that frightening event… My heart was overwhelmed with compassion.
As I was driving west, the eastbound vehicles on the overpass were having the same challenge we had been having on Oakland. I saw them in my rear view mirror.
In the sixteen years I have gone to breakfast book club with Joel I think that is only the second time I have driven. The other time was after his hernia surgery.
One of the other women in the book club (Deb) had just had their garage door opener not work; they could not open the door manually. Deb had the name and number of a repair company. Joel made the call and the door was repaired right after lunch.
What are the odds?
While it did not feel like gift at the time, I appreciate being aware and able to release those old fears by bringing love to myself for all time and on all levels.
My precious friend, Erin Hamilton, is one of the most courageous women I know, and I know a lot of really courageous women!
Erin opened her December blog post this week with the words, “Here we are.” Erin is writing about the birth of her twins, Lennox and Ella. Lennox will be celebrating his one-year birthday on Friday, December 16. Ella will join our celebration for both of them in spirit. Ella’s spirit came through with a message a few days ago. She wanted her mom to know that just as Lennox has grown and changed and learned this past twelve months, she, too, has grown and changed and learned.
How did it get to be December 2? My previous post was on Saturday, November 19, 2016. Of course, we got to spend almost a week in Tennessee with our daughter (Stacey Dodge) and her family.
We all have our personal, “Here we are.”
Stacey and her husband, Doug, have just bought a sail boat. Miss Magic has been delivered to Tennessee where she will get a good face-lift in preparation for their three-month cruise next year. “Here we are.”
Grandson, Brad, and his new bride are anticipating a move to Charlotte, North Carolina, shortly after the first of the year. “Here we are.”
No one I know is on hold right now. We are moving forward, moving back, getting better or worse. There is pleasure and pain, loss and gain.
A line from Erin’s blog says it all, “One does not cancel the other out.”
Erin is speaking of the rich emotions that accompany our everyday lives. She writes, “I can’t believe we’ve survived a year. It’s so hard to explain holding such grief and loss for our Ella and such love and happiness for our Lennox all at once. One does not cancel the other out. I’ve had to learn to let them coexist. To love with all of these feelings- through them, in spite of them, because of them- has been such a journey already.”
I will close with a favorite concept from anthropologist Angeles Arrien, author of The Four-Fold Way: Walking the Paths of the Warrior, Teacher, Healer, and Visionary, where she links the four directions with sage advice for us all, where ever we are:
We begin in the North, “The Way of the Warrior,” the place of the Leader, where we SHOW UP and take a stand and choose to be present. We then move to the East, The Way of the Visionary, the place of the Seer, where we TELL THE TRUTH about what works and doesn’t work for us. Then, we move to the South, the Way of the Healer, the place of the Lover, and PAY ATTENTION to what has Heart and Meaning for us. And then we move to the West, The Way of the Teacher, the place of Wisdom, where we LET GO OF EXPECTATIONS, and yet are open to what we do receive.
Then we begin the cycle again, refining as we go. Each direction has an energy of its own, and if we leave any part out, the cycle falls apart.
(If it would bless you, visit EllasSoapBox.com and check out a soap with a mission.)
Health and fitness are just the side-benefits of Hatha Yoga.
Classical Hatha Yoga is a powerful system
to prepare the system for a “cosmic download”
and explore our full potential.
Recently I was smitten by the title of an article by Stephen Cope about yoga: Everything Is Already OK. When I was thirty something, I wore out my copy of Richard Hittleman’s 28 Day Progam. The daily practice sheets in the back of the book were tattered, yellowed, and just looking at them you could almost smell Nag Champa incense.
In some ways, my relationship with my body got off to a shaky start. Another way to say it is that my life has been about bringing together my body, mind, and spirit. (Listen to “Loved and Wanted.”)
When I was five, I was diagnosed with (and treated for) polio. Thirty-three years later I discovered I had instead one of several mimicking viruses that went unrecognized during the polio pandemic.
Roller skating backwards ushered in a fractured left wrist in fifth grade, then at age 12, a drunk driver misjudged a stop sign, resulting in our vehicle hitting her vehicle broadside at about 50 MPH. I was left with massive facial lacerations, a dislocated hip at the pelvis, and my first bona fide out-of-body experience.
Yoga just felt right. I loved the breath work, the stretching, the feeling of being present. How the best habit of my life slipped through my fingers, I am not sure, but I can say I am profoundly appreciating the benefits of being back in a committed yoga practice now that I am sixty something.
A few years ago, I went to one yoga class with John Orr at the June meditation retreat. While it was impossible to miss my lack of flexibility, being in just that one class sparked a yearning.
Last year, I started attending a yoga class at the Y taught by my good friend, Kathy Zerler. Hatha Yoga is also called Kripalu, Restorative, or Gentle Yoga. I attended faithfully every Tuesday all last summer, but I could feel my body asking for more.
In April of this year (2016) I made the commitment to attend class every Tuesday and Thursday. In June, Kathy also added a small every-other Saturday morning class at the 815 Main Street office.
I was aware I loved class. I would notice the days my pelvis was not able to let me put my legs flat on my mat at the beginning of class but how I could comfortably melt into the mat for Savasana. Also known as corpse pose, this is when you lie on your back and relax your body and mind, reaping the benefits of your practice.
I hear Kathy’s words from class in my head all the time now. Interspersed below are Kathy’s words in italics.
“Let every part of your body now melt into the mat. Just let it all go. The melting, the release, the relaxation in yoga is just as important as the tension and the movement, and the balance and the strength and endurance. It is the rest in a piece of music, the comma in a sentence, so that release is a skill that is integral to the process.”
I began to record Kathy’s audio instructions. I have dozens of voice memos. This is letting me practice on my own when traveling or if I have to miss a class. I intend to practice with those while I am in Florida. I feel a sort of bliss knowing I have those. I appreciate that you can do yoga where ever you are.
“The breath is the connection. Imagine that you can follow your breath into the body part that you are working and soon you will see that you can.”
This year, when I went to meditation retreat in October, the full benefits of my yoga practice revealed themselves so beautifully.
“You are invited, more than that, you are expected to take good care of yourself. Every move is from the inside out.”
A meditation retreat involves a lot of sitting, starting at 6:30 am, and going until after 9:00 pm, with breaks for meals, walking meditation, and brief instruction.
“You are strengthening your spine, but you are also learning to watch what you are doing. You are learning to lift yourself with the core muscles and that includes the big muscles in the legs. And these are important things that will carry you safely or safer throughout every day.”
As I slid onto my chair in the meditation hall that first day, I placed a pillow between the small of my back and the back of my chair.
“Proper posture is the single best thing that we can do for a healthy spine.”
I felt my spine lift gently. My core engaged. I witnessed my shoulders rolling back naturally, with that slight engaging of my shoulder blades. I was not just sitting, I was being present in my body!
“Remember you are encouraged to stop whenever you feel like you’ve had enough. There’s nothing in this class that is mandatory. There are no grades. There are no pop quizzes. This is your yoga, for you, right now, for this hour. And so honor how you are feeling right now, and do what’s right for you.”
That is what this practice is doing for me. The class at the Y is large (30 students), so I close my eyes as much as I can. In the same way that my meditation practice has moved off the cushion, my yoga practice is moving off the mat!
“Letting go… Treating yourself as gently as you would treat your best friend, or a kitten, or a baby. How gently would you treat those people? You deserve that same gentle treatment.”
In walking meditation, I can feel that same sense of my shoulder blades engaging. I feel my core engaged when I ride my bike. While there is no goal or effort to attain in meditation or yoga, as I watch my breath, I know my heart is opening! I am benefiting body, mind, and spirit.
“It is the breath than connects your mind to your body. In yoga, the breath is the spirit part, so we’re working all parts of you. This is your yoga, designed to work your mind, your body, and your own sweet spirit.”
My friend Ray, a Zen practitioner, tells me when you get the posture right, you have the practice. I did not really understand what that meant until now. I can feel it in my precious body, and I am deeply appreciative.
“Without your body, where would you live?”
I will close with these wonderful words about Hatha Yoga Benefits, the science of using the body to ‘hasten your evolutionary process.’
When you experience everything as oneness in your consciousness, then you are in yoga. To attain that unity within you, there are many ways. You work with the body, then you move to the breath, then to the mind, then to the inner self. Like this, many steps have been created, but they are only different facets of yoga. It is important that all of them are addressed in a very balanced way, all at once, as one single unit. There is really no division as such; yoga employs all aspects of who you are.
“You have it all. We have everything we need to take great care of ourselves.”
It feels amazing to be present to this holy relationship of my mind, body, and sweet spirit.
Twenty years ago, the Friday after Thanksgiving, I ended my formal relationship with the organized Christian church. It would be too simplistic to say that happened over the curriculum of the Sunday school class I was getting ready to teach. A contributing factor for sure was pain related to a friend’s death from AIDS, and the ongoing fighting about homosexuality within the denomination.
For the most part, I did not miss being part of a church. I found community among wonderful, loving, spiritual people. I enjoyed the Friends of Silence meditation group. The interfaith experience nourished me deeply. I saw God everywhere. My ordination as a Minister of Reunion allowed me to be in ministry to many people who might have otherwise felt cut off from God/Source/Creator/the Universe. Not having a formal tie to a church was simply the next right step in my spiritual development.
What to do about my relationship with Jesus was not quite as simple. The question would come up for me from time to time, and many mystical experiences resulted. Sitting at Stillwaters in meditation I once heard Jesus’ voice chastising me, “Debra, why do you hold me accountable for what people say I said. You know my heart.”
My first time staying on Pine Island in Florida I was driving to a meditation off-island with the intention of making peace with my relationship with Jesus. In front of me was a car driven by a couple who were making out. They were barely driving 20 MPH, on the two lane road where safely passing is not very probable. Very frustrated about being stuck behind them and anxious about being late for the meditation, I totally missed my answer.
It was only after arriving at the mediation, walking into the meditation hall, and seeing a life-size cardboard cutout of Jesus in the corner of the room that my mind flashed back to that car. In huge letters, spread across the back of that station wagon, were the words JESUS LOVES YOU, not just in English, but also in Spanish!
That was the perfect answer to my question. My love for Jesus was born with the children singing Jesus Loves Me in church. I was five years old, and my two older sisters and I had gone to Sunday school. The children were already gathered and singing as we found our way. I knew instantly that song meant Jesus loved me, Debbie Smith. I drew comfort and strength and peace and wisdom from that truth. So making peace with this meaningful relationship was—well, meaningful.
A few weeks after my encounter with the Jesus-loving make-out station wagon, my friend Pamela Chappell was singing at Unity of Fort Myers. I stayed out in the bookstore at the table where Pamela’s CDs were for sale, and she saved me a seat in the sanctuary. I ended up seated directly in front of this portrait of what some call the surfer Jesus. I mention some of that experience in a 2012 blog post: “How to Argue About Jesus“.
This past winter, I got another opportunity to receive the assurance of Jesus’ love from yet another evangelical vehicle:
While at Oakwood on retreat in October 2016, things finally came together! This is the message that came through:
I will always walk with you. Don’t put me above you. Simply take my hand and say, “Jeshua, walk with me; walk by my side.” And in every moment, I am with you. How could I ever depart from you? For I love you so deeply, now and always. You are me, and I am you, and the heart must soften until you know this truth. Only then can you truly know your awakened nature and the service for which you came to this earth. You are love.
I wrote a simple sentence in my journal: I want to celebrate Christmas!
Later that day, I opened the book Presence, Kindness, & Freedom (p. 102-103) and read about habit patterns often being covered by a smokescreen. In a flash, I recognized the deep pain I had been covering up about having lost contact with my devotion to Jesus. I began to sing to myself, ‘Oh, Jesus, I have promised to love thee to the end…’
I emailed the surfer Jesus photo to the retreat center. I knew it belonged in my collage.
Friday morning I was up early. It was still dark as I left the community building under the moon to walk to the meditation hall for the 6:30 am sitting. I was still searching in my bag for my flashlight when someone with a light came up behind me to my left. I had been holding the light for others all week long, so I had a moment of bliss fully receiving the gift I had been giving.
With sweet appreciation, I picked up my pace and walked along with this person. Until we got to one of the two options to get to the bridge, I assumed it was Celeste, who had been at the dining hall with me moments earlier. As I slowed to see if she would turn, I got a view of this person in my peripheral vision. This person was not Celeste. Celeste was much taller.
In that instant of realizing I had been walking with someone other than I thought, my heart lurched! My breath caught in my chest. My heart broke open with the full realization that for all of these years while I searched for peace with all of this, Jesus had continued to walk with me.
Awash with emotion, I chose to follow this light bearer. I was living the symbolism. I surrendered completely.
My guide did not turn where I expected, but I followed willingly, even expectantly.
When we came to a ditch, I stopped. The light beam was sent down the ditch and up. I stood still, not quite understanding. Down, and up the beam went again.
Finally, my patient light bearer gave a little flick, flick to the beam, as if saying, “Go ahead, it is safe.”
In an altered state, my feet carried me down that ditch and I came up the other side. I found myself at the back of the meditation hall, but I had gotten there via a route I had no idea existed. This experience moved me to my core. The meaning washed over and over me.
At the 6:30 am sitting I heard Jesus telling me, “If I need you to help someone I will call on you. If you don’t hear me calling you to action, relax and enjoy being present to the moment.”
While it may not immediately make total sense to everyone, my silent insight meditation retreat week was made much richer just because on Monday when we arrived I signed up to be the bell ringer for Saturday.
Let me begin by sharing these comments from my meditation teacher, Barbara Brodsky:
Another way we create much pain for ourselves is by our inability to live in this moment. There’s nothing wrong with planning, but when we’re planning, we seldom KNOW we’re planning. We use it as a way of escaping our lives. Often, attention is scattered. We find little real joy and peace in this moment. We stop for a cup of tea; while we drink it, we plan the afternoon, trying to free the schedule to fit in the game of tennis. We rush through the work, and reach the courts. Through the tennis match, thoughts of the evening meeting intrude.
Signing up as Saturday’s bell ringer, I asked one of the retreat managers about the schedule. At previous retreats with this group, each bell ringing time was signed up for separately. I was always awake early, so I often chose the first bell of the morning. It was easy for me, and I considered it a gift because so many people don’t wake up early. At this retreat, we were making a commitment to ring every bell for an entire day.
I had carefully selected Saturday to give myself a few days off before providing the service to the community.
The manager responded to my question about the schedule with, “The times for the ringing of the bells are on the sheet. That sheet will go with the bell.”
My mind was off and running. I saw on the sheet that bells were scheduled at 6:00 am, 6:30 am, 7:00 am, 7:30 am, 9:00 am, 11:15 am, 12:00 pm, 2:00 pm, 2:30 pm, 4:30 pm, 5:15 pm, 6:30 pm, and 7:30 pm. Not much of a retreat day….
The purpose of the ringing of the bells is to allow attendants to let go of the slavery to planning mind, busy mind, and to be more present. The 6:00 am bell is the first wake-up bell, for those who will attend the early (6:30 am) chanting and meditation sitting. The 6:30 am bell is to announce that event. The 7:00 am bell is the wake-up bell for those who do not attend the early sitting. The 7:30 am bell announces breakfast. Each bell is to be rung five minutes prior to the event time.
This retreat was held at Oakwood Retreat Center a 40 acre property in Selma, Indiana. It takes a full 15 minutes to get around to each of the five residential buildings. (I know because I timed it.)
My habit energy fear of “not doing it right” revealed itself around bell-ringing. This was not the first time I had noticed this energy. At the very first Deep Spring retreat I attended, bell ringing had my mind in a twist. Did no one know that it was impossible to ring a bell five minutes before an event at every location when it takes ten or fifteen minutes to get across the campus? I thought many years at retreat had freed my mind from this habit energy, but alas, here was the subtle panic pattern again.
On Monday, I wrote an anonymous note on the flip chart in the dining hall: “What bells are to be rung?”
The answer from am equally anonymous retreat manager appeared on the chart: “The times are marked on the sheet with the bell.”
I noticed the churning thoughts. I would wake in the night. I considered crossing my name off the list to free myself from the mind twisting. Aware of the play of mind, and the opportunity to be present with that, I accepted as gift the ability to observe the workings of the conditioned mind rather than run from them.
On Friday morning, I decided I would ask someone in the community who was not going to attend the 6:30 am chanting and meditation to ring the 7:00 am and 7:30 am bells so I could. I wrote my request on the flip chart. Notes from two willing volunteers were placed in the basket. With profound appreciation, I accepted one offer.
At 10:30 Friday morning I went in to my small group with Barbara Brodsky. Before our group started, Ellen (the bell ringer for Friday) said, “I will need to leave about fifteen minutes early to ring the noon bell.”
Barbara responded to Ellen’s comment about needing to leave early to ring the noon bell with a question and a declaration, “Why are they ringing a noon bell? That is not necessary. You just stay here. Everyone will know it is time for lunch.”
I admit to jumping on that band wagon. I began by saying I had thought right away there were way too many bells, had even asked the managers about that, and I was the one signed up to ring the bells the following day.
When we gathered at 2:00, Barbara casually brought up the bell schedule. She apologized for having missed the mix up on the final schedule. I had already marked the five bells I thought were needed. It was agreed to those five bells as a revived schedule.
So, what is the moral of this ringing tale? So you can understand totally, I will share a few more of Barbara’s comments:
How we may learn to live more fully in this moment is a primary focus of insight meditation. We find much peace and happiness, and deeper ability to concentrate on the work at hand, when we learn such focus. We begin to understand what continually pulls us out of the moment and to not need to do that so much . And we find more kindness and patience toward ourselves when we DO repeat those old patterns! In learning kindness toward ourselves, we learn it toward others!
Regret & Remorse
Are photo-shopped
Pixels of fragmented
False memories.
Reboot.
Enjoy the whole show.
Francie Lynch, June 6, 2015
This is one of those lessons I hope I can remember to benefit from for the rest of my life.
I love scarves. Seeing a perfectly chosen scarf as the pièce de résistance began in my former life (1970’s) working as a retail fashion buyer, merchandiser, and salesperson.
Possibly the most expensive scarf in my collection is an Oscar de la Renta silk original I found at Goodwill for $1.99.
Now I may have worn it for the last time.
I was blessed to spend last week at a meditation retreat. In the sanctuary at Oakwood Retreat Center, there sat a beautiful quartz Tibetan crystal singing bowl. They are very easy to play and have an amazing sound vibration.
A suede covered mallet is used to circle the outside rim of the bowl. With a steady, even-handed pressure and continued movement around the rim, the tone initiated by the chime builds in clarity and intensity.
I looked for the chiming mallet—checking in the few places it might possibly have been left out of view, but no mallet was to be found, so I left the sanctuary wishing I could have played the bowl.
A couple of days later, I was back in the sanctuary again, and this time grasping mind got the best of me. I could figure out something I could use to get that bowl singing. I knew I could!
I took my little flashlight out of my bag, slid it lightly around the rim, but it was too harsh against the crystal surface of the bowl to be safe and it generated a squeaky pitch.
Without thinking, I took off my scarf, carefully wrapped it around the flashlight, pressed it against the rim of the bowl, and voilà, we had a mallet for the singing bowl!
The tones of the bowl came to life. The walls of the sanctuary were suddenly filled with lovely vibrations. My whole being sang along….
After my mini concert for an audience of one, I began to unwind my scarf from the makeshift mallet.
I now have the choice to remember the hole in Oscar’s silk scarf or the feeling of exhilaration I experienced hearing the bowl sing those beautiful tones to my heart and soul.
If you are a fan of the Chicago Cubs, you know that the events happening at this time are a very big deal. The Cubs won back-to-back World Series championships in 1907 and 1908, becoming the first Major League team to play in three consecutive World Series, and the first to win it twice. While the Cubs have appeared in a total of ten World Series, their most recent was way back in 1945, before I was born….
I find watching competitive sports an interesting activity, mostly because I want everyone to win. I celebrate a good play regardless of who made it. I appreciate the commitment, the dedication, and good sportsmanship. One of the things I treasure about the dancing reality shows (So You Think You Can Dance and Dancing with the Stars) is what I perceive as genuine support they express for one another in the midst of the competition. In spite of the fact that it is obvious only one person will win the coveted mirror ball trophy, or the quarter of a million dollars and the title “American’s Favorite Dancer,” they seem to truly care about the outcomes for each of them. Several of the professional dancers are in relationship to other professionals. Some are married. It is a fascinating model of possibilities.
If you don’t watch the show, you might be very impressed to watch a brief video of Terra Jole, the first “little person” to be on the show. (Subscribers to my blog should use the following external link to watch Terra Jole and Sasha Farber doing the jive.)
We can bring commitment, dedication, and good sportsmanship to all of life. I imagine this cooperative competition as our way of being in the world—including the world of politics.
If you agree, you might wish to join millions of people on Sunday, November 6, 2016, at 7:00 pm Eastern time. James Twyman is inviting folks for a synchronized meditation to lift the energy of the upcoming presidential election. He says, “THIS IS THE MOST POSITIVE THING YOU CAN DO! Please share with everyone you know.”
Here is a brief (2 minute) video about the meditation opportunity: (Subscribers to my blog should use the following external link to view the Lifting the US Election video.)
I am certainly thinking of my father in heaven watching his Cubbies. Whatever the outcome, pay attention to who’s team you are on. We are all in this game of life together. (My dad is the one right in the middle of this photo of him with his siblings.)
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