tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10590346193045532252024-03-12T21:02:00.790-07:00Ordinary MindfulnessSlow transformation is way better than no transformationMichael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comBlogger398125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-52424036472637714632013-09-17T09:17:00.000-07:002013-09-17T09:17:10.126-07:00Tasting LifeLife often feels good. Life sometimes also feels bad. Sometimes it's bland. Sometimes it's delicious. Slowing down helps us notice and honor--maybe even welcome--whatever life feels or tastes like.<br />
<br />
I love this Jean Janzen poem. It supports my own bias--to grow in openness and skill to taste life to the full.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
Wild Grapes --Jean Janzen<br />
<br />
Grandfather, dying in November,<br />
asked for wild grapes from<br />
a distant creek. He remembered them,<br />
sweet under the leaves, sent Peter,<br />
his eldest, on horseback.<br />
Through the window the light,<br />
golden as broth, filled his bedside cups,<br />
and the dusty air shimmered.<br />
<br />
I have known others who, at the end,<br />
crushed the flesh of nectarine against<br />
the dry palate, or swallowed bits<br />
of cake, eyes brimming.<br />
<br />
What to drink in remembrance<br />
of each morning that offered itself<br />
with open arms? What food<br />
for the moments we whispered<br />
into its brightness?<br />
<br />
Grandfather, the last pain-filled days,<br />
dreamed cures. He who loved God,<br />
who would go to him, but who also<br />
loved this world, filled as it is<br />
with such indescribable beauty that<br />
you have to eat it.Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-57233127051759667352013-09-02T07:06:00.003-07:002013-09-03T06:42:07.529-07:00Pilgrimage and Presence<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
There's a wonderful old prayer, formatted below as
a poem:<br />
<br />
<!--[endif]--></div>
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O God of peace, you</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
have taught us</div>
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that in returning</div>
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and rest</div>
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we shall be saved,</div>
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in quietness</div>
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and confidence</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
shall be our strength.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
By the might</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
of your Spirit</div>
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lift us,</div>
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we pray,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-align: center;">
into your presence,</div>
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where we may be still</div>
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and know</div>
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that you are God.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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If you haven't already, take an unhurried moment
to read, to move <i>with </i>these words at a pace where you neither
get ahead of them or fall behind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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If you find a word or phrase unhelpful do your
best to translate them into something that’s truer for you. </div>
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<br /></div>
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What else might you change to make this prayer a
prayer that describes what takes you into Presence? </div>
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<br /></div>
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I can imagine God might want to make changes too
(though we can never be really sure what changes those might be)!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I experience this as a wonderful prayer. Almost
every time I pray it, it functions for me like an incantation--like Gandalf
chanting "Speak Friend And Open," at the Gates of Moria. If I slow
down and move with these words, literally at the pace of comprehension, doors
open, and I am present for Presence.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Lots of people used to invest lots of time and
effort in order to come into Presence. People made pilgrimages to holy places.
'Holy Place' is how 'Sanctuary' translates. The <i>thing </i>that <i>sanctifies </i>a <i>place </i>is <i>Presence</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Read this snippet from an R S Thomas poem:</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In cities that<br />
have outgrown their promise people<br />
are becoming pilgrims<br />
again, if not to this place,<br />
then to the recreation of it<br />
in their own spirits. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
We live at a time when people are becoming
pilgrims to holy places in their own spirits. This doesn't mean we don't also
find Presence in traditional sacred places. It's a both/and thing for many of
us, though for some, for one reason and another, it's often necessary to make
new paths. Both old and new pilgrim paths move people toward Presence.
And both take people into community and adventure. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And both involve inspiration, effort and grace. But neither <i>guarantees</i> Presence—though
it's very rare when Presence is not experienced on the way to and
within the holy places of pilgrimage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Just slowing down and 'entering' the prayer at the
beginning of this post is a kind of pilgrimage. The 'returning' describes a
path we take and take and take. No guarantee of Presence. And yet....</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And yet...it is on journeys like this, short or
long, where we find the <i>quieting</i> and
the <i>stilling</i> and the <i>knowing</i> that something in us is always longing for.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-6511586969957544192013-08-26T07:03:00.004-07:002013-08-26T07:03:56.729-07:00Pace & Peace<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wanna find God? Simple. Drive slower--God doesn't break the
speed limit unless somebody's pregnant and needs to get to the hospital.<br />
<br />
Wanna find peace? No problem. Let the worries of your driven self race on ahead
while you stay behind with what's left.<br />
<br />
Wanna be joyful? Easy. Chew slow enough to taste your food. God prepares a table
for us every day--and even though it's often in the presence of our 'enemies,'
each bite of God's cooking is too good to miss.<br />
<br />
Do these and similar things figuratively and literally.<br />
<br />
By 'literally' I mean at least once a day drive slower than usual. Use your car
as a hermitage. Be kind. Make room for others on the road. Take the scenic
route.<br />
<br />
When you feel anxiety like a squirmy bunch of catepillars in your gut, pick
one, just one, and watch it until it metamorphs into a moth or butterfly and <i>under
it's own power</i> flies away.<br />
<br />
At 3:45 in the afternoon say to yourself, "How about a nice cuppa
tea?" Then put a kettle on and call the time it takes to boil a
sabbatical.<br />
<br />
All those wise ones over the years are right, you know?<br />
<br />
Going faster than the actual speed of life keeps us perptetually <i>just
out of reach</i>of what life actually can be--Real, Pithy, Delightful, Full of
Flavor.<br />
<br />
Wave your wand. Take one small step...backward. Exhale. Move at the pace of
Life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">(MH--re-posted from last year)</span></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-29161982966687210742013-08-20T08:47:00.000-07:002013-08-20T08:48:00.757-07:00Healing: The Mind<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Jesus said, "You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free." This is a favorite W<i>isdom saying</i> for me these days. Only I've been adding President James Garfield's addendum to it: "But first it will make you miserable."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This isn't always true. And Garfield says it in a way that shocks for emphasis. Yet when we're on a spiritual path, and we're inspired and brave enough to stay on it, it's true enough. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The following passage from Jack Kornfield is a good description of one of the unavoidable views we get along 'true' spiritual paths. It's the prettiest picture. Yet "True" trumps "Pretty." Doesn't it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Or at least, Shouldn't it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Mindful practice trains a person to observe the mind honestly and compassionately. What follows from JK is the honesty part--a <i>truth </i>that steady, clear, and brave observation always reveals. As you're reading it, remember the compassion part--the combination of clear eyes and warm hearts is the very prescription for deep and lasting healing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">('Sweeter' bits will follow soon)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">---</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just as we heal the body and the heart though awareness, so
can we heal the mind. Just as we learn about the nature and rhythm of sensations
and feelings, so can we learn about the nature of thoughts. As we notice our thoughts
in meditation, we discover that they are not in our control—we swim in an uninvited
constant stream of memories, plans, expectations, judgments, regrets. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The mind begins to show how it contains all possibilities,
often in conflict with one another—the beautiful qualities of a saint and the
dark forces of a dictator and murderer. Out of these, the mind plans and
imagines, creating endless struggles and scenarios for changing the world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Yet the very root of these movements of mind is
dissatisfaction. We seem to want both endless excitement and perfect peace.
Instead of being served by our thinking, we are driven by it in many
unconscious and unexamined ways. While thoughts can be enormously useful and
creative, most often they dominate our experience with ideas of likes versus
dislikes, higher versus lower, self versus other. They tell stories about our
successes and failures, plan our security, and habitually remind us of who and what
we think we are. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This dualistic nature of thought is a root of
our suffering. Whenever we think of ourselves as separate, fear and attachment
arise and we grow constricted, defensive, ambitious, and territorial. To
protect the separate self, we push certain things away, while to bolster it we
hold tightly to other things and identify with them. </span></span>Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-67930539709166593922013-08-14T08:10:00.000-07:002013-08-14T08:10:09.308-07:00Healing: The Art Letting GoRichard Rohr, in the three paragraphs that follow, connects 'letting go' with forgiveness. Both these practices, Forgiveness and Letting Go, are part of the life work we do to heal ourselves and our world.<br />
<br />
It's a beautiful teaching. Embodying it, practicing it, letting the habit of doing it become familiar (and almost delightful!) transforms us.<br />
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---</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What does letting go on the practical level tell
us? Letting go is different than denying or repressing. To let go of something
is to admit it. You have to own it. Letting go is different than turning it
against yourself; different than projecting it onto others. Letting go means
that the denied, repressed, rejected parts of yourself, which are nonetheless
true, are seen for what they are; but you refuse to turn them against yourself
or against others. This is not denial or pretend, but actual transformation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The religious word for this letting go is some
form of forgiveness. You see the imperfect moment for what it is, and you hand
it over to God. You refuse to let any negative storyline or self-serving agenda
define your life. This is a very, very different way of living; it implies that
you see your mistakes, your dark side, but you do not identify with either your
superiority or your inferiority. Both are equally a problem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Forgiveness is of one piece. Those who give it can
also receive it. Those who receive it can pass forgiveness on. You are a
conduit, and your only job is not to stop the flow. The art of letting go is really the secret of happiness and freedom.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-57831626382534672552013-08-12T07:07:00.000-07:002013-08-12T11:14:16.785-07:00Healing: The HeartWe continue the 'healing' thread. This week: healing the heart.<br />
<br />
Following is a short and very helpful 4 lines by Thomas Keating, the godfather of a resurgence of Contemplative Prayer in North America. And a longer section from Jack Kornfield's <i>A Path with Heart</i>.<br />
<br />
In this section JK quotes a wonderful poem by Windell Berry, <i>I Go Among Trees and Sit Still</i>. I've added a stanza that was left out.<br />
<br />
I find all of this very helpful, but also deeply intuitive. I had to read WB's poem 5 times before I could even begin to absorb who was scared of what, etc.<br />
<br />
Yet these re-readings were wonderfully rewarded--a growing understanding began to light up some of the typical stuff that troubles me, body and soul. <br />
<br />
I wish the same light for you.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
The mind
deceives.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The body
never lies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Listen to
the wisdom of your body.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Hear its
truth. --Fr.Thomas Keating</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Just as we open and heal the body by sensing its
rhythms and touching it with a deep and kind attention, so we can open and heal
other dimensions of our being. The heart and the feelings go through a similar
process of healing... Most often, opening the heart begins by opening to a
lifetime's accumulation of unacknowledged sorrow. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As we heal through meditation, our hearts break
open to feel fully. Powerful feelings, deep unspoken parts of ourselves arise,
and our task in meditation is first to let them move through us, then to
recognize them and allow them to speak. A poem by Windell Berry illustrates
this beautifully.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I go
among trees and sit still...</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then what
is afraid of me comes</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and lives
a while in my sight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What it
fears in me leaves me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and the
fear of me leaves it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It sings,
and I hear its song.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Then what
I am afraid of comes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I live
for a while in its sight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What I
fear in it leaves it,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and the
fear of it leaves me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It sings,
and I hear its song. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
After
days of labor,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
mute in
my consternations,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I hear my
song at last,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and I
sing it. As we sing,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
the day
turns, the trees move.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
In truly listening to our most painful songs, we
can learn the divine art of forgiveness; both forgiveness and compassion arise
spontaneously with the opening of the heart. Somehow, in feeling our own pain
and sorrow, our own ocean of tears, we come to know that ours is a shared pain
and that the mystery and beauty and pain of life cannot be separated. This
universal pain, too, is part of our connection with one another, and in the
face of it we cannot withhold our love any longer. --Jack Kornfield, A Path With Heart</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-74395921789271883822013-08-05T06:38:00.001-07:002013-08-05T08:32:57.705-07:00Healing: Suffering Is OptionalDeep in the DNA of mindfulness is the insight that suffering is optional. If you practice mindfulness, even after a few weeks, you'll likely begin to see this for yourself.<br />
<br />
However--there's a catch. There's some playfulness here with the definitions of pain and suffering. The Buddha used an example.<br />
<br />
You get shot in the arm with an arrow. It hurts. A lot. That's pain. It's very, very real.<br />
<br />
Ah, but then, you react to getting shot with an arrow. Who did this! Why me? Will my arm become infected? How long will it be before I can play tennis again? Maybe the Buddha didn't actually say this last bit. But he did say that this secondary discomfort is like getting shot by a second arrow. This is Me shooting Me, and You shooting You. This second arrow is suffering.<br />
<br />
Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional. Mindfulness both invites us and trains us to see which is which.<br />
<br />
We are invited to take pain for exactly what it is and to work with it skillfully. We practice giving our best attention to the first arrow and dealing with it wisely and kindly.<br />
<br />
And we are invited to take suffering for exactly what it is and work with it skillfully as well. <i>We train in slowing down</i> enough to note this second arrow--<i>and who shoots it</i>. In doing this we see (over and over) how reactive we are to pain.<br />
<br />
Pain is inevitable; pain visits us regularly. Suffering visits us regularly too. But it's not inevitable--in many ways it is truly optional. And we can progressively come to understand what <i>causes </i>suffering and what <i>cures </i>it.<br />
<br />
Below is another wise and helpful teaching on this from Jack Kornfield's <i>A Path With Heart</i>.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We can learn to be aware of pain without creating further
tension, to experience and observe pain physically as pressure, tightness, pin
pricks, needles, throbbing, or burning. Then we can notice all the layers
around the pain. Beyond this may be an emotional layer of aversion, anger, or
fear, and a layer of thoughts and attitudes such as "I hope this will go
away soon" or "I feel pain: I must be doing something wrong." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some practices try to conquer the body. Sometimes healers
will recommend consciously aggressive meditation for healing certain illnesses.
For certain people this has been helpful, but for myself and others, who have
worked extensively with healing meditation, we find that a deeper kind of
healing takes place when instead of sending aversion and aggression to wounds
and illness, we bring loving kindness. Too often we have met our pain and
disease, whether a simple back ache or a grave disease, by hating it, hating
the whole afflicted area of our body. In mindful healing we direct a
compassionate and loving attention to touch the innermost part of our
wounds--and healing occurs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bringing systematic attention to our body can change our
whole relationship to our physical life. We can notice more clearly the rhythms
and needs of our bodies. Without mindfully attending to our bodies, we may
become so busy in our daily lives that we lose touch with a sense of
appropriate diet, movement, and physical enjoyment. Meditation can help us find
out in what ways we are neglecting the physical aspects of our lives and help
us hear what our body asks of us.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-87799230648807283222013-08-02T06:57:00.001-07:002013-08-02T06:57:28.975-07:00Healing: We Must Study Pain.More from Jack Kornfield on healing--specifically healing for and through the getting in better and better touch with our bodies. JK's advice "we must study pain" sounds pretty unattractive. It sure is counterintuitive for almost all of it. Funny, how helpful it turns out to be.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, mindful practices get very specific in giving us both the <i>why </i>and <i>how </i>we do it.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
Meditation practice often begins with techniques for bringing us to an awareness of our bodies. This is especially important in a culture such as ours, which has neglected physical and instinctual life.<br />
<br />
With awareness, we can cultivate a willingness to open to physical experiences without struggling against them, to actually live in our bodies. As we do so, we feel more clearly its pleasures and its pains. Because our culture teaches us to avoid or run from pain, we do not know much about it. To heal the body we must study pain.<br />
<br />
However, most often the kind of pains we encounter in meditative attention or not indications of physical problems. They are the painful, physical manifestations of our emotional, psychological, and spiritual holdings and contractions. The Austrian psychoanalyst Wilhelm Reich called these pains our muscular armor, the areas of our body that we have tightened over and over in painful situations as a way to protect ourselves from life's inevitable difficulties. As we sit still, our shoulders, our backs, our jaws, or our necks may hurt. Accumulated knots in the fabric of our body, previously undetected, begin to reveal themselves as we open. As we become conscious of the pain they have held, we may also noticed feelings, memories, or images connected specifically to each area of tension.<br />
<br />
As we gradually include in our awareness all that we have previously shut out and neglected, our body heals. Learning to work with this opening is part of the art of meditation. We can bring an open and respectful attention to the sensations that make up our bodily experience. In this process, we must work to develop a feeling awareness of what is actually going on in the body.<br />
<br />
When you meditate, try to allow whatever arises to move through you as it will. Let your attention be very kind. Layers of tensions will gradually release, and energy will begin to move. Places in your body where you have held the patterns of old illness and trauma will open.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-91240161994787214412013-07-29T06:42:00.001-07:002013-07-29T06:42:44.018-07:00Healing Body, Mind & Heart<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm rereading Jack Kornfield's <i>A Path with Heart</i> and (yet again) finding it wise and helpful. I hope to be able to put some regular snippets here over the next month. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Early in the book JK points us to the relationship between mindfulness and healing: healing of our bodies, our minds, and our hearts. Not surprisingly, he slows us down, taking the time to allow us to consider and begin to understand why this is so--and how mindfulness both invites and enables healing to happen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I first read <i>A Path with Heart</i> about 6 years ago. Seeing it on my shelf a couple of weeks ago, part of me was thinking, 'I've already read this 3 times; it will probably be boring to read it again.' </span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ha! It's just as stimulating and challenging as it was before. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Though there is the difference of seeing how what I have been able to understand, take to heart, and practice has enriched my life over the past 5 years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As the banner of this blog declares, "Slow transformation is way better than no transformation."</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"> All spiritual practice is a kind of Path-ing: setting deep intentions and following them. Going where we hadn't yet been and gradually incarnating our deepest and truest desires.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">---</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Almost
everyone who undertakes a true spiritual path will discover that a profound
personal healing is a necessary part of his or her spiritual process. When this
need is acknowledged, spiritual practice can be directed to bring such healing
to the body, heart, and mind. This is not a new notion. Since ancient times,
spiritual practice has been described as a process of healing. The Buddha and
Jesus were both known as healers of the body, as well as great physicians of
the spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wise
spiritual practice requires that we actively address the pain and conflict of
our life in order to come to inner integration and harmony. Through wise
guidance, meditation can help bring to this healing. Without including the
essential step of healing, students will find that they are blocked from deeper
levels of meditation or are unable to integrate them into their lives.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Many people
first come to spiritual practice hoping to skip over their sorrows and wounds,
the difficult areas of their lives. They hope to rise above them and enter a
spiritual realm full of divine grace, free from all conflict. Yet at some point
we encounter all the unfinished business of the body and heart that we had
hoped to leave behind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">True
maturation on the spiritual path requires that we discover the depths of our
wounds: our grief from the past, our ceaseless longing, the sorrow that we have
stored up during the course of our lives. This healing is necessary if we are
to embody spiritual life lovingly and wisely. Unhealed pain and rage, Unhealed
traumas from childhood, abuse or abandonment, become powerful unconscious
forces in our lives. Until we are able to bring awareness and understanding to
our old wounds, we will find ourselves repeating patterns of unskilled desire,
anger, and confusion over and over again.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-82859423789992774862013-07-15T11:41:00.001-07:002013-07-15T11:41:50.067-07:00Home By Another Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0jGAqdyf4Zs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
We have the ability to recognize home. But the
complexities of human life cause us to forget. This forgetting feels like
exile, and we make elaborate structures of habit, conviction, and strategy to
defend ourselves against these feelings. But our condition isn't hopeless, it's
possible to work wisely with these evolutionary, cultural, family and religious
structures so we can turn and find our way home.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 4.5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
--based on a quote by Joan
Sutherland</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-53589579700529009202013-07-08T06:32:00.001-07:002013-07-08T06:32:20.432-07:00Getting Somewhere<div class="MsoNormal">
All the time I hear, "Oh, I can't do mindfulness--my mind just doesn't work that way." </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you were a kid, did you learn how to ride a bike? Remember how discombobulating it was a first? OMG, the WOBBLES! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But almost all of us really, really wanted to ride a bike. We kept at it. It didn't take nearly as long to learn to ride as we feared. Probably not a person reading this blog got good enough to do bike tricks. Probably everybody reading this got good enough to go places, to ride with friends, to occasionally experience the amazing freedom and joy that comes simply by being on bike. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mindfulness is like that. There's a learning curve. But within a week or two with a little regular practice and we begin to find that blessed sense of balance. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And we go places. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Below is our lectio from Monday Mindfulness. It's a piece from Jack Kornfield's <i>A Path With Heart</i>. He's writing not so much about how we initially find our balance. He's writing more about where we're able to go as we do begin to find that balance. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Wise words follow... (If you're looking for simpler instruction on how to begin, try <a href="http://ordinarymindfulness.blogspot.com/2012/03/mindfulness-of-breathing.html">here</a>)</div>
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---</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We cannot easily change ourselves for the better through an
act of will. This is like wanting the mind to get rid of itself or pulling
ourselves up by our bootstraps. When we struggle to change ourselves, we, in
fact, only continue the patterns of self-judgment and aggression. We keep the
war against ourselves alive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The purpose of a spiritual discipline is to give us a way to
stop the war, not by our force of will, but organically, though understanding
and gradual training. Ongoing spiritual practice can help us cultivate a new
way of relating to life in which we let go of our battles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we step out of the battle, we see anew. We see how each
of us creates conflict. We see our constant likes and dislikes, the fight to
resist all that frightens us. Our prejudice, greed, and territoriality. All of
this is hard to look at, but it is really there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When we let go of our battles and open our heart to things
as they are, then we come to rest in the present moment. This is the beginning
and the end of spiritual practice. When we come into the present, we begin to
feel the life around us again, but we also encounter whatever we have been
avoiding. We must have the courage to face whatever it is. As we stop the war,
each of us will find something from which we have been running. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You may have heard of "out-of-body"
experiences" full of lights and visions. A true spiritual path demands
something more challenging, what could be called an "in-the-body
experience."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
With wise understanding we allow ourselves to contain all
things, both dark and light, and we come to a sense of peace. This is not the
peace of denial or running away, but the peace we find in the heart that has
rejected nothing, that touches all things with compassion.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-9355922421064351612013-07-01T07:18:00.002-07:002013-07-01T12:06:12.757-07:00Aging WiselyWhat do you think of the number 62.5? How about strolling under a deep blue October sky and 62.5 is the temperature at 3:00 in the afternoon--jeans and sweater weather? That's many people's idea of a perfect Autumn day.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, 62.5 is my age right now and I have mixed feelings about that number. When I shaved this morning, the face I saw in the mirror was very different from the face that had seemed perfectly familiar until about 10 years ago.<br />
<br />
It was around that same time (10 years ago) that I went to my doctor with shoulder pain. Forgetting his bedside manner he casually observed, "Getting old is not for sissies." Recently, I returned the favor by casually saying the same thing when he was kvetching about his memory.<br />
<br />
Mindfulness practice, since it's always about cultivating the ability to be fully alive <i>now</i>, has a whole bag of tricks to help us 'age' gracefully. Maybe I should say <i>a whole bag of good medicine</i>.<br />
<br />
My doctor is right, growing old really isn't for sissies. Growing old is an adventure and so it's for adventurers--spelunkers, climbers, decathletes, mothers, fathers, pilgrims, magi.<br />
<br />
Below is the lectio we used for this morning's meditation group. Like the last couple of posts, it's from Ron Siegel's <i>The Mindfulness Solution.</i><br />
<br />
Wise words follow...<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As we age, most of us long for some aspect of the
good old days. We envy those with younger bodies who have their whole life
ahead of them. We don't realize that on average younger people aren't actually
happier. Monitoring the moods of people ages 19-94, researchers found that
older people experienced positive emotions longer and had negative emotions
subside more quickly than younger people.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
As long as our basic needs are met, much of our
well-being or misery has more to do with how we interpret our situation than
with the situation itself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What we learn through mindfulness practice is that
it's our attachment to how we see ourselves and our circumstances, rather than
age-related changes themselves, that cause much of our difficulty with growing
older. Once again, it is our wish to avoid unpleasant experience that's at the
root of our unhappiness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
What we learn from mindfulness practice is that it
is both possible and rewarding to face hard realities. In ancient texts,
students are encouraged to meditate on the following points:</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
1. I
am sure to become old. I cannot avoid aging.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
2. I
am sure to become sick. I cannot avoid sickness.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
3. I
am sure to die. I cannot avoid death.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
4. All
things dear and beloved to me are subject to change and loss.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto;">
5. I
am the owner of my actions; I will become the heir of my actions.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p> ---</o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p>I mentioned above that mindfulness practice has a whole bag of tricks. Committing to memory uncomfortable <i>Reality-Bites</i> is one of them. Oddly, and very counter-intuitively, regularly working with phrases like the above has the capacity to bring us to a very stable Happy Place. A place that doesn't argue with reality--but explores, affirms, navigates, and often celebrates it.</o:p></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-78062468718745450932013-06-24T08:18:00.000-07:002013-06-24T08:18:27.370-07:00'Me' and My Shadow<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm continuing a lovely, slow stroll through Ron Siegel's book, <i>The Mindfulness Solution</i>. As a therapist and teacher (Harvard for more than 20 years) his experience of life is a lot different from a priest or rabbi or Zen master. I'm appreciating his perspective (below).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Wise words follow...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">---</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Carl Jung described the parts of our personality that we
don't acknowledge because they don't fit our conscious identity as our shadow.
We all have one, made up of everything we don't like about ourselves.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">By illuminating how we construct our identity, mindfulness
practice helps us recognize and accept our shadow moment by moment. Every
desirable and undesirable feeling, thought, and image eventually arises in
meditation, and we practice noticing and accepting them all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We see our anger, greed, lust, and fear along with our love,
generosity, care, and courage. Seeing all of these contents, we gradually stop
identifying with one particular set and rejecting the other. We eventually see
that we have a great deal in common with everyone else, including those we are
tempted to judge harshly. We see for ourselves why people in glass houses
shouldn't throw stones.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It has been said that mindfulness practice is not a path to
perfection but a path to wholeness. We don't wipe out the aspects of our
personality that don't fit our desired identity, but rather make friends with
these elements. This is humbling but also freeing. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">By simply </span><i>practicing
awareness of present experience with acceptance</i>, we can see ourselves and others
more clearly, not distorted by the desire to see ourselves in a certain light.
Despite all our attempts to distinguish ourselves from one another, we share so
many human foibles. We naturally start to relate to others with compassion when
we see they're just like us. We also come to appreciate that we are
unique--just like everyone else.</span></span>Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-51538729932615456872013-06-17T05:53:00.001-07:002013-06-17T07:33:53.334-07:00Practicing PRESENCE<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Anne Lamott says, “My mind is like a bad neighborhood—I try not to go there alone.” But our minds are also rather like grammar school playgrounds—it’s not wise to leave the kids unattended. Seeing both of these metaphors as shrewd and potentially helpful invites us to cultivate them both. Go often to the playground and regularly to the bad neighborhood—but never go alone. Vaya con Dios, go with God, with Presence—whether our idea of Presence is “He walks with me and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own.” Or our idea of Presence is “Being Itself.” Or our idea of Presence is the quality of mindful awareness we cultivate and do our best to bring into any moment—focused, non-judging, kind, and curious. Go often. Vaya con Dios. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Below are 3 rich reflections about Presence.</div>
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---</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
With every breath I fill with God. And my life is a
table where I offer God to the world. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
–Thomas Aquinas</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
"There is need for awareness that the
mountains and rivers and all living things, the sky and its sun and moon and
clouds all constitute a healing, sustaining sacred presence for humans which we
need as much for our psychic integrity as for our physical nourishment. This
presence, whether experienced as Allah, as Atman, as Sunyata, or as the
Buddha-nature or as Bodhisattva; whether as Tao or as the One or as the Divine
Feminine, is the atmosphere in which humans breathe deepest and without which
we eventually suffocate." --Thomas
Berry</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<i>Flickering
Mind<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Lord, not you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
it is I who am absent....</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
I elude your presence.... Not for one second</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
will my self hold still, but wanders anywhere,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
everywhere it can turn. Not you, </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
it is I who am absent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
You are the stream, the fish, the light, the
pulsing shadow,</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
you the unchanging presence, in whom all</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
moves and changes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
How can I focus my flickering, perceive at the
fountain's heart</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
the sapphire I know is there? --Denise Levertov</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-23157105679830976982013-06-03T08:23:00.002-07:002013-06-03T08:23:23.302-07:00Welcoming AnxietyI dove into mindfulness practice because I needed a better way to work with raw family tensions. My daughter was 16, I was worried about her, and my worry--though coming from deep love for her--was too often expressed in ways that felt nothing like love to her. Getting better at working with my own anxiety about her showed me over and over how to better embody my love for her.<br />
<br />
Of course we're still working with our <i>stuff</i>--anxiety, frustration, communication, even as we continue to find ways of anchoring love in day to day life. Still, it's not a stretch at this point to say it's been a game changer.<br />
<br />
Our lectio for this morning's mindfulness group was about working with anxiety with growing skill. Wise words follow....<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
Oh the house of denial has thick walls </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and very small windows</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
and whoever
lives there, little by little, </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
will turn to stone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
--Mary Oliver, <i>A
Thousand Mornings</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Fear is our mind and body's ancient, hardwired
response to every perceived threat, no matter how subtle. We are therefore
frightened much of the time though we often don't think about it this way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
All worry is anticipatory. Even in terrible
current circumstances, our worry is about what is going to happen next, not
about what is happening right now. Since mindfulness practice cultivates
awareness of <i>present experience with
acceptance</i>, it tends to bring our attention out of the past or future and
into the current moment. And the present moment is usually safe.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
Mindfulness oriented approaches to anxiety involve
sitting with experiences (however disturbing) and letting them run their course
rather than trying to change them. When we do this, it interrupts an important
mechanism that maintains anxiety, since we're <i>no longer generating fear of the anxiety itself</i>. This approach also
frees us to make intelligent or skillful choices. Welcoming anxiety is actually
a powerful way to develop courage. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
--Ronald
Siegel, <i>The Mindfulness Solution</i></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-71247122362412329012013-05-14T08:41:00.001-07:002013-05-14T08:41:40.964-07:00Stillness<br />
This morning I woke up already feeling behind. So much to do--so little time. I did what I usually do: walk the dog, exercise (a little!), make tea, read something that feeds the soul.<br />
<br />
But through it all there was still a nagging sense of pressure. Too much left undone--so many worthy things. And a conviction--a hunch--a duty--a feeling--that if I only worked smarter or faster or harder or more skillfully I'd be able to do more stuff and do it better--and get the monkey of 'things left undone' off my back.<br />
<br />
But (probably influenced by reading something that feeds the soul) instead of simply believing the storyline in my head, I stopped. Breathed. Prayed. Listened.<br />
<br />
And listening deeply it was pretty easy to see what a bunch of crap my sense of Optimized Living was.<br />
<br />
I kept still for awhile. Then wrote a few things down to remind me what my saner soul was hearing. During breakfast I opened Mary Oliver's book, <i>A Thousand Mornings</i> (I try to read one Mary Oliver poem 3 or 4 mornings a week).<br />
<br />
What a lovely corresponding voice in the poem whose turn it was to be read <i>today</i>. What a blessing. Thank God for M O.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
---</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today I'm flying low and I'm</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">not saying a word.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The world goes on as it must,</div>
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the bees in the garden rumbling a little,</div>
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the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.</div>
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And so forth.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But I'm taking the day off.</div>
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Quiet as a feather.</div>
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I hardly move though really I'm traveling</div>
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a terrific distance.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Stillness. One of the doors</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
into the temple.</div>
</span>Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-51443513738456447572013-05-13T06:17:00.000-07:002013-05-13T06:17:11.670-07:00Growing in Listening<br />
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Lively interactions with others is one of life's treasures. How many times a day do we find ourselves in conversations? How often in those conversations do we find ourselves completely tuned in? </div>
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<br /></div>
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Steady listening is a rare thing. Staying tuned in to the person in front of us is really hard. But we can get better at it. And as we get better, life gets richer and richer.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The following is from Susan Chapman. Her most recent book is <i>The Five Keys to Mindful Communication</i>.</div>
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---</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Learning how to switch out of defensiveness into a more
humorous, receptive state of mind is a big deal.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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By shutting down the channel of communication, we put up a
defensive barrier that divides us from the world. In our mind, we justify our
defensiveness by holding on to an unexamined opinion that we are right. We
undervalue other people and put self-interest first. In short, our values shift
to "me first". Closed communication patterns are controlling and
mistrustful. We see others as frozen objects that have importance only if they
meet our needs.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In-between is a place we normally don't want to enter. We
find ourselves there when the ground falls out from beneath our feet, when we
feel surprised, embarrassed, disappointed, on the verge of shutting down. At
this moment, we might feel a sudden loss of trust, an unexpected flash of
self-consciousness. Learning to hold steady and be curious at this point is
critical to the practice of mindful conversation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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The in-between state of mind is where we gain both
compassion and insight. It is not only where we witness ourselves closing down,
but also where we notice the miracle of opening up again. Why and how does this
happen? What exactly is it that makes us stop caring about being right and
begin taking an interest in another person's point of view? Mindfulness makes
us more curious about this turning point, both in our communication with others
and within ourselves.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-60973242868475254922013-05-07T07:33:00.000-07:002013-05-07T07:34:24.335-07:00Don't Worry...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
We may not have evolved to be happy. Natural selection, the
process that guides our evolution, favors adaptations that help us reproduce
successfully. This means surviving long enough to mate, snag a partner, and
then support our children's survival. Evolutionary forces don't particularly
'care' whether we enjoy our life--unless this increases our survival for mating
potential. And they really don't 'care' about what happens to us after our
child-bearing and protecting years are over.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>But we care</i>. While
most of us think the survival of humanity is a good idea, we would also like to
be able to enjoy our lives while we're here. It doesn't seem like a lot to ask.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thinking and planning, wonderful and useful as they are, are
at the heart of our daily emotional distress because, unlike other tools, we
can't seem to put these tools down when we don't need them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They keep us worrying about the future, regretting the past,
comparing ourselves to one another in thousands of ways, and forever scheming
about how to make things better. This makes it very difficult to be truly
satisfied for more than a brief time. Our constant thinking can make it
impossible to wholeheartedly enjoy a meal, or listen to a concert, to fully
listen to our child, or to fall back asleep in the middle of the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mindfulness developed through thousands of years of cultural
evolution as an antidote to the natural habits of our hearts and minds that
make life so much more difficult than it needs to be. Mindfulness is a
particular attitude toward experience, or way of relating to life, that holds
the promise of both alleviating our suffering and making our lives rich and
meaningful. It does this by attuning us to our moment to moment experience and
giving us direct insight into how our minds create unnecessary anguish.<br />
<br />
--Ronald Siegel, <i>The Mindfulness Solution</i></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-8633260848541383142013-05-01T07:41:00.001-07:002013-05-01T12:55:48.631-07:00Getting to Cape Hatteras Without Taking the Ferry<br />
Choice. Options. The freedom to pick what we want. What a blessing.<br />
<br />
And yet...also...a bit of a curse.<br />
<br />
We've evolved to 'love' choice. It's natural for us to 'choose' what we prefer. And what we tend to prefer is what has kept us alive across millenia. Choosing quickly, almost instantaneously, has been a key to our survival.<br />
<br />
The curse of picking what we want (nearly instantaneously) is that in the world as it is now we often want what we don't need, even what's harmful. As Paul of Tarsus groaned, "The very thing I want I don't do. I wind up doing the very thing I don't want!"<br />
<br />
Slowing down, sinking down, into that quieter place where we can get centered, we find a different kind of choice--an ability to choose what we <i>really </i>want--to prefer something other than what we have tended to prefer.<br />
<br />
Think about that word, <i>prefer</i>. It comes from the root word for ferry, which is both a noun and a verb. To be ferried is to be taken across a river or a bay or even part of an ocean. Have you been ferried? It's an adventure for most of us, especially those who don't grow up on a coast or an island.<br />
<br />
Here in North Carolina we often take a ferry from 'Down East' to Okracoke--and then from Okracoke to Cape Hatteras. Wow. I've done this maybe three times. Never been the same journey. Rained one time. Rough sea once. Calm. Windy. Gray. Blue.<br />
<br />
The other part of prefer, <i>pre</i>, means before. To prefer literally means to <i>choose before</i>. To already like one thing, want one thing, count on one thing before we get to the thing itself--to come to something new with an old mindset, something fresh in a canned way. To <i>pre-fer </i>can mean something like<i> getting to </i>Cape Hatteras<i> </i>without the richness of <i>taking </i>the ferry. .<br />
<br />
Try this sometime. When you're with somebody who matters to you and you're trying to decide something together and you're about to go with the same old same old: Sink down into that quieter place in you, that place where time slows down and intuition pops up.<br />
<br />
Take a few seconds to feel what it feels like to PREfer whatever it is you often prefer. Just feel whatever it is that inclines you to stay on automatic pilot. After feeling the push of that feeling, do your best to let it relax.<br />
<br />
Then picture yourself at a dock, a landing, a ferry port. Don't PRE the ferry. TAKE it. Walk down together to the ticket window. Look at the options--the routes--the sailing times. Take joy in considering the possibilities.<br />
<br />
Life is full of options and routes and sailing times. We so often have choices we miss, neglect, ignore. We so often wind up doing what we want instead of what we <i>really </i>want.<br />
<br />
It's not that hard to get out of this habit. Don't PRE the ferry. Take it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-27567290937041318542013-04-24T07:04:00.000-07:002013-04-24T07:04:12.337-07:00What We Need Is Here<br />
I've experienced nothing in my life any more helpful than getting into the habit of pausing--hitting a kind of reset key that refreshes body, mind and soul all together. What follows is a short re-do of an older post about what this is and how can work.<br />
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---</div>
<br />
In the Wendell Berry poem below we can sense <i>his </i>deep sense of the sacredness of Life--something always available, always possible, always potentially sustaining:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What We Need Is Here</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Geese appear high over us,</div>
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pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,</div>
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as in love or sleep, holds</div>
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them to their way, clear</div>
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in the ancient faith: what we need</div>
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is here. And we pray, not</div>
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for new earth or heaven, but to be</div>
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quiet in heart, and in eye,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
clear. What we need is here.</div>
<br />
The poem also reminds us we don’t really have to go anywhere to get to a sacred place. 'What we need is here.' This doesn't necessarily mean we stop taking retreats and making pilgrimages--heaven forbid! It just means that life, in a strange and wonderful way, can be just as rich in our ordinary 'here' as in any extraordinary 'there'.<br />
<br />
By cultivating a habit of a Sacred Pause, over time we prove to ourselves this is so. A Sacred Pause is not complicated. It can be as simple as breathing in and breathing out, letting go of whatever we’re doing, whatever we’re holding to, or gently slipping out of the grip of whatever has a hold on us so that we can slip into being ‘quiet in heart, and in eye, clear.’<br />
<br />
When we stop our usual down-pat ways of 'doing’ life and start making room for ROOM--open, patient, playful, curious, kind--we get reoriented over and over to what matters most to us. If we cultivate these Sacred Pauses our experience of freshness and openness and possibility begins to happen consistently enough that we can't help but begin to trust the process. Practice builds trust. Trust sustains practice--a gracious spiral into sacred space.<br />
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-48869971770957317912013-04-22T06:49:00.000-07:002013-04-22T06:49:12.342-07:00Poem of the One WorldJesus clearly reaffirmed what is central: Love God with our whole being; love our neighbors as ourselves.<br />
<br />
I want to grow to love my neighbors as much as I love myself. And I want to grow to count the natural world as my neighbor. At best we tend to ignore what we don't love. At worst we misuse or abuse it.<br />
<br />
We humans don't have long to learn this. We misuse the natural world so 'effectively' these days, and there are so many of us now, that we are on the brink of effectively destroying what sustains life. Really.<br />
<br />
So many of us love Mary Oliver poems. May we learn to love them more! And differently--to hear them like bells across cities not only calling us to joy and insight but also to prayer and growth.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Poem of the One World, Mary Oliver </div>
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<br /></div>
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This
morning </div>
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the
beautiful white heron </div>
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was
floating along above the water</div>
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<br /></div>
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and
then into the sky</div>
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of
this the one world </div>
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we
all belong to </div>
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<br /></div>
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where
everything </div>
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sooner
or later </div>
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is
part of everything else </div>
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<br /></div>
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which
thought made me feel </div>
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for a
little while </div>
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quite
beautiful myself.</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-1772118449986873482013-04-15T06:59:00.001-07:002013-04-15T06:59:07.985-07:00The Gift of Drudgery William Blake famously invited use to see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower. How about getting a pinch of bliss doing chores--and a sense of joy in drudgery? Karen Madden Miller has some good advice for us below. <div>
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<br /></div>
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I have a garden in my backyard, and even if you don't call
it a garden, you do too. In the fall, the broad canopy of giant sycamores in my
yard turns faintly yellow and the leaves sail down. First by ones and then by
tons. A part of every autumn day finds me fuming at the sight of falling
leaves. Then I pick up a rake. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tell me, when I'm sweeping leaves till kingdom come, is it
getting in the way of my life? Is it interfering with my life? Keeping me from
my life? Only my imaginary life, that life of what-ifs and how-comes--the life
I'm dreaming of.</div>
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<br /></div>
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We don't just struggle with a shirt in a Zen koan. We
struggle with the shirts in our hampers. With the pants, the blouses, the
sheets and the underwear. Laundry presents a mountainous practice opportunity
because it provokes a never-ending pile of egocentric resistance. Its not
important to me. It's tedious. I don't like to do it!</div>
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<br /></div>
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If we're not careful, this is how we approach mindfulness:
as an idea, one we rather like, to elevate our lives with special contemplative
consideration, a method for making smarter choices and thereby ensuring better
outcomes. The problem is that the life before us is the only life we have. The
search for meaning robs our life of meaning, sending us back into our
discursive minds while, right in front of us, the laundry piles up.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Transcending obstacles and overcoming preferences, we have
an intimate encounter with our lives every time we do the wash. Its nothing out
of the ordinary, but no one turns their nose up at a clean pair of socks.</div>
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<br /></div>
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With only a slight change in perspective, the most ordinary
things take on inexpressible beauty. When we don't know, we don't judge. And
when we don't judge, we see things in a different light. That is the light of
our awareness, unfiltered by intellectual understanding, rumination, or our
evaluation. When we cultivate non-distracted awareness as a formal practice, we
call it mindfulness meditation. When we cultivate it in our home life we call
it the laundry, the kitchen, or the yard--all the places and ways we can live
mindfully by attending without distraction to whatever appears before us.</div>
</div>
Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-73576346965891997212013-04-09T04:47:00.002-07:002013-04-09T04:47:29.039-07:00The Wisdom of Not KnowingI'm reading a good, helpful & simple primer on Mindfulness--<i>The Mindfulness Revolution</i>. Very short chapters, each by a different writer covering many different takes, styles, and arenas. The bit below is an excerpt.<br />
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---</div>
<br />
Being uncomfortable and uncertain need not be seen as a weakness or problem that needs an immediate answer. Not knowing is a tremendous resource for being effective and innovative at work.<br />
<br />
Not knowing means being willing to slow down, drop our preconceptions, and be interested and present to our work situation as it unfolds. Not knowing in this sense is an exercise in balancing effort--actively and intelligently being somewhere in the process of getting somewhere.<br />
<br />
We no longer cling to what we know and instead become excited about what we don't know. We ease up on the race to get our jobs done and permit ourselves to notice things we don't normally notice. We let our curiosity have a free rein.<br />
<br />
Not knowing is highly inquisitive, and energetic curiosity that inspects then questions without being rude or disrespectful.<br />
<br />
We can allow ourselves the opportunity to appreciate, listen, and observe and to be curious about the incidentals, routines, surprises, and even irritations of our work rather than taking them for granted or being put off by them. We can afford to listen for the unspoken messages, often sent unintentionally and even more often misunderstood. By not knowing we open up and so does the world around us, offering an untapped wealth of insight and guidance.<br />
<br />
-Michael Carroll<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-10980052946606149132013-03-19T07:41:00.001-07:002013-03-19T07:41:22.412-07:00Take Control of Your LifeThe title of this post is ironic. I cringe when I see magazine articles titled "Take Control of Your Life!" The subtitle is usually something like "5 Secrets of Getting What <i>YOU </i>Want." Yet there is a kind of control we can begin to grow into. It has to do with choice--a rich ecology of choice!<br />
<br />
For me it starts with coming to understand that <i>all choices have consequences</i>. Mine, yours, and everybody else's. Including non-human beings.<br />
<br />
When I was 16 I chose to do that thing that teenagers often choose to do: friends each telling their parents they're spending the night with each other and then spending the night out 'raising hell.'<br />
<br />
It was fun for awhile. We'd had our obligatory couple of six packs, we were all buzzed, and at about 11:00 we all needed to pee--which we 'chose' to do in a mall parking lot. A policeman saw us. One of us yelled, "It's the cops--quick, jump in the car!" Then the driver chose to floor the accelerator and peel out the side of the parking lot.<br />
<br />
No surprise--the policeman chose to give chase and floored his accelerator, flashed his blue lights, and took off after us. The three of us not driving told the driver to give up, to pull over. That we were 'busted.' The driver said, "Don't worry, I've outrun many a cop before!" We said, "Don't be a damn fool--pull over!!!"<br />
<br />
He chose not to.<br />
<br />
20 seconds later, he lost control of the car, bounced off a tree, and slammed into a South Carolina red dirt embankment. The guy riding shotgun tore up his shoulder and broke 4 front teeth on the dashboard. The rest of us just got bounced and bruised. All of us got taken into custody.<br />
<br />
Choice: We can choose wisely, or stupidly, or choose not to choose and just go along for the ride.<br />
<br />
However we choose, we will still travel into the future, the immediate or distant future, and experience some form of consequence from our choices or the choices of others.<br />
<br />
We'll also experience the 'random' consequences of weather and earthquake, solar flares and asteroids, etc., etc. We all will always be experiencing, in one way and another, the consequences of being alive in a vast and measureless creation.<br />
<br />
This is why I cringe at "Take Control" articles. Nevertheless...<br />
<br />
Participating consciously in the collective karma of Life is the wisest thing any of us can do. And (big surprise) mindfulness is a huge help.<br />
<br />
One of the richest lessons in the Jewish scriptures is this: "Wisdom calls aloud at the crossroads." How many times will we come to a fork in the road <i>today</i>?<br />
<br />
These places where paths diverge are more numerous than we know. We miss most of them. And even the ones we notice, we often 'choose' by default--taking the fork we always take.<br />
<br />
Learning to notice forks in the road is a wonderful practice. Learning to pause at forks in the road is a more wonderful practice. Remembering that Wisdom calls aloud at forks in the road is the wonderfulest practice of all.<br />
<br />
Stopping, and doing our best to open our minds and hearts to what Wisdom is saying--now--this may be "The Secret of Life!" Surely it's one strand in the thread of Life's deepest grace.<br />
<br />
Briefly, when we practice meditation and contemplative prayer regularly, we begin to see the difference between our own habitual patterns of thinking or feeling and Wisdom's quieter, deeper Presence and Voice. We not only get in the habit of pausing and listening at forks in the road, we get in the habit of trusting that Wisdom will regularly give us those countless positive packets of wise and kind discerning that guide our choosing--and leaven the world.Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1059034619304553225.post-57271450183626707292013-03-12T08:13:00.000-07:002013-03-12T08:13:14.659-07:00Grieving and GratefulMany of you know that I had to put my wonderful dog down a couple of weeks ago. To say that Mattie was a dear companion doesn't quite hit the mark. She seemed more like an old wise woman in the second half of her life. An old soul. I miss her terribly.<br />
<br />
And I grieve.<br />
<br />
But the quality of this present grief is different from other heartbreaks I've had because of the mindful spiritual formation that's come as work and grace over the last 8 years. It's not exactly that it makes loss less painful. It's just better 'situated' these days.<br />
<br />
One of my first lessons in mindfulness was a practice called 'sitting in the fire.' Sounds fun, huh? It's somewhat like the 'welcoming prayer' of Contemplative Christianity. But it's more like the Marines might do it than the Monastics.<br />
<br />
When big pain comes, whatever source, whatever variety, we just sit with it, invite it, welcome the burn, the sting, the fear, every bad feeling it conjures. BUT...we do this in Deep Silence. Wordlessly. Each time words come up, we move our attention from their narrative back to full awareness of the sensation of pain, wound, hurt--wherever it is in the body. Chest, throat, cheeks, head, gut. Wherever.<br />
<br />
My own experience of this practice has been as promised. The pain has never been as bad as the fear of the pain has prophesied. And it doesn't last as nearly so long without its chatty narrative looping back, over and over.<br />
<br />
But there's something else. With this fresh grief for dear old soul Mattie I've been sitting in the fire and toasting marshmallows at the same time. After holding her, comforting her, laying a hand on her head, and telling our very kind vet I was ready, I watched Mattie die--almost in the blink of an eye. And then drove home choking with tears.<br />
<br />
Then I sat down to practice.<br />
<br />
It didn't take but a moment to 'see' in those powerful memories, emotions, and sensations I was experiencing, that GRATITUDE was all bound up in the grief. If she hadn't been so wonderful, losing her wouldn't have been so painful.<br />
<br />
When my father died I was 20. My mother and I dealt with the pain of his dying mostly with repression. We'd be desperately sad for a moment then we'd 'pull ourselves together.' I've spent a long time (and a good bit of money on therapy) learning to let go of anything kin to repression.<br />
<br />
So now, grieving for Mattie is a both/and thing. I've been anchoring it with breathing. When, as Keats wrote, "the melancholy fit shall fall sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud" I take the melancholy in, passionately, as much as I'm able to hold.<br />
<br />
That is, as much as I'm able to hold in one in-breath. As I breathe out, I connect (it's not hard!) with the gratitude that's somehow wrapped up in the same bits and pieces of memory the grief is wrapped in. I breathe in, I breathe out. I cry, and I smile. I hurt and <i>I give thanks</i>.<br />
<br />
Of course, I do this alone. I'm too self-conscious to be this weepy and loopy with others.<br />
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Well, not really alone. The gratitude part of the practice seems always to bring an awareness of the deep and participating presence of God.<br />
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Grieving and grateful. Who knew...Michael Hudsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659529045956530094noreply@blogger.com