Messy Guru

Spinning Circles

I recently completed a 10 day meditation course serving students here in Dallas.  Its the sixth course of its kind that I have attended at this center.  I spent most of my time cooking meals that were vegetarian and worked with 12 other older students and also meditated 4 hours a day.  It was an unexpected break that left me feeling empowered and empty of thoughts.

I had moments during the course that felt like it was a purging of thoughts, emotions and physical symptoms that were deeply embedded into my being.  The acid test of sorts that indicates the Vipassana meditation technique is truly working as it is intended to.  

On day 9 of our course, I was waiting for the night discourse to be finished and was returning from my room to the meditation hall.  I was coming down a set of stairs and I heard this awful sound coming from a man in the men's dormitory.  The sounds he uttered was chilling and urgent.  A primordial call of sorts from the base of his being.  The sound you would imagine of man being tortured.  He was making repeated sounds of distress and getting to him seemed paramount.

I could feel my body moving toward the sound and my footsteps quickening.

I had reached the spot where the sound was coming from and saw a younger man on his back on the floor, spinning in circles, propelled by moving of his feet.  It was a heart quickening moment and I quickly knelt down near him and quietly starting talking in a calm manner.

My words seem to resonate with him and after awhile he stopped moving and just stared at me.  I asked him if he would get up and sit on a nearby chair and he slowly got up from the floor.  When he was seated I kept repeating for him to breathe through his nose and that he would be ok.  He slowly got up without saying a word.  He had walked away to his room and I returned to the meditation hall.

I wondered the rest of the night whether the man would make it through this demanding course.

The next morning I happened to see him in the men's dinning hall.  His eyes were clear and his energy bright.  A complete transformation from the night before.  I asked him if he was indeed ok and he said yes.  He mentioned that he was ashamed and that his mind could not take it anymore with nothing to do.  I responded with my own experience on my first and subsequent courses and told him that I had admired his courage to face his own mind out of control.

We both soon had stopped talking and tears poured from both our eyes and I could no longer speak.

"I am glad you were there." he softly said.

I am too, I had thought, and bowed to him in respect and walked away.

I spent the last few days ruminating that entire experience.  Perhaps this was the perfect setup for me to see the growth of my own existence and to help somebody along the way.  I remembered the entire sequence of events and how my body moved towards the pain and it knew intuitively what to do and say.  

This is what the heart would do I thought.  It moves without judgement or self protection and is naturally spontaneous.

"The mind creates the abyss, the heart crosses it."  Nisargadatta  

 

 

Love can Build a Bridge

 

I had recently attended a funeral for my niece in my hometown. 

It would have been unlikely I would have attended this funeral a few months ago with all my "justified resentments" I had towards my family of origin.

I kept the past in my present and was bound and determined to keep myself in a safe place in my head and in my space of my Being.

I was right.  They were wrong.

About everything.

And anything.

I had to hold them accountable to my story of them no matter what.

What I had realized in the past few months is that it is impossible for my past stories to appear in this moment. 

This moment is all that there is.

When I heard the news of the death of my niece, I had an immediate intuitive reaction to attend the funeral.  I thought to myself:

"If not now, when?"

I dropped the stories of my past and thought of my dear younger sister and the loss of her daughter.  Everything inside me seemed to flow from a natural place of love. 

Love has no story or reasons.  It flows naturally and in all circumstances.

It is who I am when I am in reality and out of my head.

I trust myself in this space.

Meeting my sister that first moment was sad and joyous all at the same time.  Years of life fell away between us and we were once again together.  The tears flowed and I could feel my heart opening up for her and me. 

The funeral itself was of course heartbreaking.

After the funeral I had the opportunity to speak with my sister while eating food right next to each other.  A moment of light opened up a space for us to be alone in the midst of the people attending the luncheon.

She had the grace and space to tell me what it meant to her that I had come up here for their funeral.  The words spoken there are private.  But they fell deep into my soul.  I had not expected to find love, grace and freedom from such a tragic life circumstance.

But my sister did.

Love can build a bridge I thought, and it comes with love and simple kindness for another human being.

Regardless of the stories from my past.

 

 

 

Mirror in the Sunlight

 

Yesterday I had arrived a bit early to an empty yoga studio.  I placed my mat up near the front and close to the large studio mirrors and looked at my body in the sunlight.  My stomach has 5 scars on it in various stages of healing and I have gained considerable weight.  The kind of body an old ancient warrior would have been proud of.  

I immediately thought of a story Martha Beck had written in one her books, "Following Your Own North Star" when she was a college art student and they had a model to sketch that was less than ideal:

"She looked well over sixty, with a deeply lined face and body that was probably fifty pounds heavier than her doctors would have liked.  She'd had a few doctors, too, judging from her scars.  Shining purple welts from a cesarean section and knee surgery cut deep rifts in the rippled adipose fat of her lower body.  Another scar ran across one side of her chest, where her left breast had once been.  When she first limped onto the dais to pose, I felt so much pity and unease that I physically flinched.  But we there to draw her, so I picked up a pencil.

"The thing about drawing is that you can't do it well with your social self.  You have to bring out your essential self, which doesn't know anything about social stereotypes.  And so, as I began to draw this maimed old woman, the most amazing thing happened.  Within five minutes, she became a person of absolutely wondrous beauty.  She didn't look like a supermodel; she didn't have to.  Her body, in and of itself, was as beautiful as a piece of polished driftwood, or a wind carved rock, or a waterfall.  My essential self didn't know that I was supposed to compare the woman to various movie stars, any more than it would have evaluated the Andes Mountains by judging how much they looked like an Iowa cornfield.  It simply saw her as she was:  an exquisite sculptural form.

"When this perceptual shift happened, I was so surprised that I stopped drawing and simply stared.  The model seemed to notice this, and without turning her head, looked straight into my eyes.  Then I saw the ghost of a smile flicker across her face, and I realized something else:  She knew she was beautiful.  She knew it, and she knew that I had seen it.  Maybe that's why she had consented to pose nude in the first place.  Knowing that a roomful of artists couldn't draw her without seeing her--I mean really seeing her--she may have decided to give us gentle education about our perceptions."

I stood there watching myself carefully while smiling as I remembered her beautiful story.   My "essential self" didn't seem to mind either of my supposed liabilities.  I glanced up and down my body while allowing the sun to look in without having any judgements.  The surgery cuts were miraculously healing without me reminding it to do so.  The belly hung there in confidence like a snow drift that had been blown upon for a bit too long.  It seemed perfectly content and happy.  Healthy enough to take on a 90 minute yoga class in 105 degree temperature.  

I watched my body move in and out of the postures as the class started and I marveled at the way my belly and scars moved with me.  I caught glimpses of myself as Martha did with the older model.  Shiny skin would appear and disappear into the mind and the mirror held out for me a new way of looking at myself.

It is strong and healthy.  

Full of wisdom and wonder.

This is what the woman model must have seen in herself too. 

 

Justified Resentments

 

I tend to hold all my fears, resentments and anxieties in my stomach area.

I have had a couple of surgeries recently also in the corresponding area.  I also asked my therapist for a session involving this issue and we worked on it with the EMDR technique.  I looked up the spiritual definition according to Louise Hay:

"Stomach: Holds nourishment. Digests ideas. Dread. Fear of the new. Inability to assimilate the new."

I also remembered Wayne Dyer saying he saw a sign in an AA meeting once that read, "There are no justified resentments" and I remained puzzled by that.  I looked that word up:

"Resentment, or the strong and painful bitterness you feel when someone does something wrong to you, doesn’t have actual physical weight, but it feels very heavy and can last a long time. Forgiveness is one way to get rid of resentment.

While I "knew" this on many levels and could articulate that pretty well, I still seemed unconsciously stuck and the appearance of it showing up physically was a good indication that I had some inner work to do.

Over that past few months I've also heard from Dr. David Hawkins speaking "...We need to apply our spiritual principles to EVERYBODY."  That quickly caught my attention of people that I knew where it was easy to do and also the ones that have been buried in the past.

I looked at this principle with 2 caveats:

1.  Who would you be without your story?  A book by Byron Katie with the same name.
2. You have no need to defend any of your current or past behavior. 

This idea came to me as I was sorting out who I wanted to meet with and how I would let whatever was to unfold without a story.  It seemed fraught with the possibilities of me ending up in a pile of trash at the end of it.   I also wanted to know if I was as able to "apply" this spiritual principle with my 2 reference points.  It would also test me if I could remain balanced and in the present moment without quickly jumping to a defensive posture or lassoing a story from the past.

I met with my mother and sister both individually and separately on 2 occasions.

We sat and talked for hours and I was surprised how much I could hear when I was not in a resentment or defensive posture.  It did not erase my past history and put me in a happy place of denial.  I simply sat and listened and shared my experiences of the past 9 or so years. I did not attempt to change their minds or hold them accountable for my justified resentments.  I did not need to.  It's not my job to do that.  Perhaps it is for others.

It did relieve a lot of space in my stomach area and I walked away feeling heard.  

This was for me and my journey.  It may not be for others.  I also am not advocating we meet with our abusers face to face to find peace or ask them for forgiveness.  I respect any boundary that anyone feels is necessary for their own journey. 

I believe that a space opens up when you can be in the present moment and stay centered without jumping into the past where Byron Katie says:

"“As long as you think that the cause of your problem is “out there”—as long as you think that anyone or anything is responsible for your suffering—the situation is hopeless. It means that you are forever in the role of victim, that you’re suffering in paradise." 

When I gave up defending my past story it relieved me of the burden of holding others responsible for it.  

 

 

 

A Successful Year

  

I had a recent epiphany with the meaning of the word success.

It seemed strange that I had not really understood its meaning and how it was defined and applied to my lot in life.  The word in the past was applied to my current status and seemed to be "about" things I acquired rather than a change of perception, pathway or reaching a signpost thats signals I am headed in the right direction.  

My partner's definition of success is the "overcoming of obstacles" .... while walking a path from one position to achieve the wisdom needed to continue the journey with experience in a way that strengthens your mind, body and soul.

What surprised me is he did not include material objects, money, fame, etc in his definition.  My definition seemed to be a mixed bag of tricks that could be moved or taken from you at any moment based on current events in your life or the way your obituary was written.  

Odd.

When I glance backwards for a minute I see a lot of "successes" along my pathway and where I am currently residing in with his definition and sprinkle of achievements in mine.  One of the dictionary's definition of success is "favorable outcome".

What confused me is at what point can my old definition be applied to my obituary of sorts.  It came from others perception of me.  I had no say in the matter and from someone in a moment of time to a sudden explosion of embolden emotions from others.  Like a flash of truth from a camera light flung carelessly about a room.

I sometimes complain to my partner and to my work companions that we never celebrate the current success we have had or the "favorable outcomes" we had when the last big project was accomplished.  An endless list of things to do and a tight rope of walking a fine line between success and failure.

I have had the biggest breakthroughs while working with acrylic paints when I push myself to the very edge of failure.  The paint brush seemed to know when  a stopping point of now was more effective than pushing for an easy definition or stroke of success.  

I believe joy and success also resides there in that space between freedom in the present moment and the unknown expectation of what is there waiting in the next breath.  

One of my favorite spiritual teachers Byron Katie, would define success, as any state or position you are currently residing in, even if you are just sitting there quietly in a chair breathing.  She would be thrilled even how successful you were while doing just that without a story of the past, future or the agonizing task of tightly "holding" people accountable for their actions now or in the past.  

While lying in my bed yesterday after my surgery,  I looked up the definition of current and past ailments and afflictions as defined by Louise Hay, "...causes of illness however mild or severe is an indicator of your current emotional state, caused by your thoughts and focus."

Appendicitis causes:  "Fear, fear of life, and blocking the flow of good".

Hernia causes: "Ruptured relationships. Strain, burdens, incorrect creative expression".

What I realized is while that is true for me, it also meant that I have been successful simultaneously with my new definition of success:

Success is the current moment of whatever is happening in my life without my story and your beliefs about it, or a label of judgement, guilt or blame placed upon top of it.

It is what it is.

And life cannot get better than that.

 

 

Love Changes Everything

I recently sat with my partner before and after his recent surgery.  It seemed like a kind thing to do.  He was nervous before the procedure and I wanted to assure him that it would be ok.  I myself, having had the same procedure, knew what to expect afterwards.

After his procedure was finished I was allowed to sit with him while he recovered from the anesthesia and the invasive procedure.  He was still sleeping when I sat down next to him and I watched him breathe slowly in and out.  

In the stillness of the room I watched my hand slowly move and caress his cold hands and held it warmly.  While I was doing this I was observing my emotions slowly changing.  The concern I had been holding was replaced with tears in my eyes.  I felt a blanket of love fall out of me and unto his body and Being.  It seemed so natural and yet it was so fresh and new.   The love was coming out of me and into the room and around him.  

I watched spellbound.

Love.

Pure and joyful like gently falling snow.

When he awoke he slowly reached his hands out to me and tried to touch my face.  Gentle tears fell down from his eyes.

"I love you" he whispered.

"I love you too" I responded.

The doubt I had about being capable of truly loving another human slowly left me.  On a certain level I knew people "liked" me and that seemed and felt like love, but this was far different.  

Love Is not a choice like I had imagined it would be, rather it's a state of being. Complete and whole.  It moves accordingly and without an agenda.  Dr. David Hawkins defines it this way:

"Love is misunderstood to be an emotion; actually, it is a state of awareness, a way of being in the world, a way of seeing oneself and others.” 

I agree.

 

 

The Drama of Trauma

In Annie Roger's second book, "The Unsayable:  The Hidden Language of Trauma" she writes:

via messyguru.typepad.com

I wrote this 4 years ago and I've spent the last 5 days still allowing the trauma to to slowly leave my body. The only way out is through.

Shame on Love

I sometimes believe from time to time that I am healed.  I'm not sure if and when I will be healed but it feels like it always right about now or I just haven't recognized it just yet.  It's not really out of arrogance, but an erroneous assumption I make.

My therapist and our partners show us otherwise. 

Recently my therapist pointed out to us in couples therapy, that the dysfunctional family that I grew up with was influencing my current behavior.  I felt the sudden rush of shame and immediately I began to doubt that I had anything to offer another human being.  

I sat there stunned in silence and anxiety.

I was stunned that these old, uninvited ghosts were arriving to stake claim yet again on my sense of Being.  A repeated record that had been indelibly scratched on my psyche.  A fatal flaw of sorts.  

How can this still be there?

When will I ever be free to express and receive love open and joyously?

My therapist and I completed an EMDR session on this and I was surprised to find that I had a hidden belief that I am not worthy of love and a adult relationship.  It seemed to match the shame I felt.

We dug deeper and I was asked to close my eyes and find a memory of when this felt like this in the past.  My mind immediately drifted back into our old house and into the sauna with my Uncle.  This twisted scene that I thought I had dealt with and processed.

But.

There was more to be unraveled and the hidden belief sat there like I did as a boy.  What I had discovered was correct.  The belief stood in tact.  I was unworthy of love an adult relationship in my mind.  We worked it loose and I then I went looking for proof in my current life.  

My behaviors of receiving and giving love was directly influenced by this belief.  I felt a sudden sense of relief as my body and chakra's relaxed. I finally had an answer why I could not just relax into a relationship.

I was holding myself and my inner child to a belief that was no longer true.

What I've come to realize and feel is that life brings to us these moments to set us free.  I used to see them as an act of war and the other person the enemy.  That war is over.

Now I will focus on the present moment and bring my new understanding to my partner and feel the love wash over me.  

I am worth it.  

Damit.

  

River Ganga

I recently traveled over 8,000 miles to the country of India.  It had been a lifetime dream of mine to visit this land that I found oddly familiar and life affirming.  I visited many places while in the country and the place I found to be the most spiritual and remarkable is the city of Rishikesh in India's northern state of Uttarakhand in the Himalayan foothills by the Ganges River.  The river is considered holy, and the city is renowned as a center for studying yoga and meditation.  Walking around the foothills and near the river is this raw spiritual energy that I found healing and tangible.

Electric even.

Chanting from a temple across the river Ganga was ringing with familiar music I've been listening to for years.  All the years of reading books about it are true.  One must be there to experience it.  Perhaps only a earnest spiritual student comes in contact with it.  

"Hindus consider the waters of the Ganga to be both pure and purifying.  Nothing reclaims order from disorder more than the waters of the Ganga.  Moving water, as in a river, is considered purifying in the Hindu culture because it is thought to both absorb impurities and take them away.  What the Ganga removes, however is not necessarily physical dirt, but symbolic dirt; it wipes away the sins of the bather, not just of the present, but of a lifetime."

I had the wonderful opportunity to get into the Ganga via a raft.  Halfway down we jumped into the river.  This part is really hard to explain in simple words of what happened when my body was full immersed in it.  

Joy.

Freedom.

Love.

The water caressed my body and I could feel like I was flying/floating in the air.  It was cold and comfortable.  Cloudy yet clear and tasted wonderful.  

Home.

A seventeenth century poet Jagannatha came to the Ganga in despair and wrote:

"I come as an orphan to you, moist with love.

 I come without refuge to you, giver of sacred rest.

 I come a fallen man to you, uplifter of all.

 I come undone by disease to you, the perfect physician.

 I come, my heart dry with thirst, to you, ocean of sweet wine.

 Do with me whatever you will."

I remember standing up after getting out of the raft and I could feel this strong energy lifting me up and centering my chakras.  

Yes, "A river moist with love."

I am grateful and filled with Grace.

 

Paint it Black

A childhood friend of mine recently reached out to me after many years of righteous silence.  The kind of silence that adds a deeper shade of shame and it penetrates deeply into my sordid world.

His words backed by biblical proof and the seemingly indifference of the laughter, joy and memories we shared together for so many years.  It seemed impossible the years of experiences and memories had added up to this. 

I often wondered how he explained away my existence so easily.

He seemed to hold the proof of my poor choices of a wicked sinner that will be sentenced to a life of eternal damnation.  A stupid choice from such a simple menu of ideas and beliefs, mixed with his sense of assuredness that only the chosen few have the right to express so arrogantly. 

A long slow burn of a jaded soul painted black.

Black like the night or a fire pit on a cold, frigid morning.

His voice on the phone however, seemed different this time.  

A familiar voice brought back to life by a change of heart.

I immediately felt at ease.  We quickly moved from the talk of our daily jobs and moved backwards and forwards towards our life of our memories and laughter.  It moved effortlessly from picture to picture.  Almost as though a brilliant film director decided to do a short documentary film on the story of us:  How a man can change his mind about the past and heal the present by witnessing another man's pain and torment.  An atonement of sorts of an afflicted man.

We talked for hours.  Our minds flooded with hilarious scenarios and outrageous laughter.  I could barely keep up with his quick wit and photographic memory.  I slowly brought him up to speed on my own life experiences.  He seemed surprised I had traveled into so many dark holes and stepped upon so many land mines.   

It felt good to be heard and validated.

I didn't seem to mind what he had said to and about me in the past.

I also didn't forget it.

It seemed to place a marker on just how far we can go when we stop trying to be "right" and truly listen to another human being.  I could feel my right to exist in his memory and slowly coming back to life in mine.  The painful memories came out of the darkness and into the light of day.  A healing balm slowly covered up the empty years.

It's easy to forgive the truth.

Even if your right.