What Makes You Come Alive?

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Howard Thurman

One of the great things about having a blog is hearing from, and being inspired by, people I'm not in constant contact with. Yesterday, I heard from Candace Atwood, a therapist who usually lives and works in Montana but took a month to play and visit in New Zealand. The photo comes from her four day trek on the Queen Charlotte Track walking and seeing sperm whales on the surface dancing with 300 dusky dolphins. "Way cool!" Candace writes.

It is wonderful. Candace included a quote from Howard Thurman which is above. How utterly true -- the world does need people who have come alive. I'm inspired by Candace and your zest for life.

And so I reflect on what makes me come alive? What helps you come alive? Are we ready to go and do it? To live fully, without shame, without fear.

Count on Mary Oliver....

.... to speak with a simple, true clarity. Here's one of her poems:

The Messenger

My work is loving the world.

Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird -
equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?

Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me

keep my mind on what matters,

which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be

astonished.

The phoebe, the delphinium.

The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.

Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart

and these body-clothes,

a mouth with which to give shouts of joy

to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,

telling them, over and over again, how it is,

that we live forever.

Thank you, Mary Oliver. The last line for me would say... "telling them, over and over again, how it is, that we love forever."

A New Metta

We all have such beauty inside us. One of the great gifts of doing the work I do is listening to others and witnessing them as their unique spirit arises and flows freely.

The photo above is a gift of stark winter beauty, taken by David Boor.

Late last week I received this new metta written Jane. I asked her permission to share it with you. With her permission, here it is:

A new metta

May I see the varied threads that make up my history.
May I recognize the pattern, the blending and unblending, that is me.
May I recognize the weave as sacred, and love it, if just for a moment, today.

May I catch the breeze of my larger self,
May I feel myself as an opening, unbound from time,
May I recognize my self as big and small,

as timeless and historical,

as woven and broken,

as sacred and honorable,

if just for a moment,

today.

--- jane

The Gift of Trauma

Last week I sat in a meditation retreat. It had been a while since I had taken a week out of my life to just sit, to be still, and to train my mind. This year the sitting was easy, almost simple, much different from years past. I didn’t have a lot of internal noise to sort through.

Having been on silent retreats since the late 1970’s it felt like a joy to arrive carrying so little inside. There was less that I had to drop, or set aside in order to be there. As a consequence the retreat unfolded into states of bliss and love.

Over the years, I’ve tasted these states. I’ve come to know that love is what unifies everything. This retreat deepened that knowing and solidified it.

At one point during the week I flashed in awareness that my history of trauma, as painful as it was to move through and to frequently feel stuck in, was the exact configuration that allows me to be open to love more fully now.

The gift of trauma is its promise of living a life undefended knowing of love. All those moments of painstakingly putting internal pieces together, one by one, over and over again, despairing or ever getting anywhere. All those moments solidify an internal self structure which then allows us all to choose to open without fear, instead trusting and knowing, being led from within.

I recently said this to a client with a devastating history. She nodded along as I was speaking then used her words to agree. She knows. It feels true to her. And then, it’s like the darkness of history floats over and shields her from her own knowing, protecting her from this absolute sure future that shimmers ahead.

She says at one level she knows parts of her protect her, keeping her from jumping there -- so that can has to be here – has to put the pieces together so that her spirit can later be unbound and free to love without fear.

Giving Better Back

Mona Barbera is a terrific therapist, especially with couples. She recently wrote a book "Bring Yourself To Love: How Couples Can Turn Disconnection Into Intimacy" and it's really worth reading. I've had many clients read her book and find it immensely helpful.

Here's an interview she gave on Fox News in Boston.

One of Mona's key points is Giving Better Back. The idea is that when someone is reactive with you try not to react back to the reaction. Instead offer them something better, offer them the response you would have wanted for yourself. Give them something better. The simple beauty of this small jewel is that when we give our partner, loved ones, friends something better, their defenses relax and the end result is they give us the better back.

Young @ Heart

It's a new year. I celebrated it watching the documentary Young@Heart which is heartwrenchingly beautiful and moving. Tissues are a requirement. I cried my way through it. How utterly gorgeous to see these people in there 70s and 80s singing and living and loving there way through every song. Bob Cilman, you inspire me! Thanks for taking such a simple thing of getting 25 old men and women together and getting them to sing -- and then getting them to sing for people all over the world. What joy you all bring. Thank you for bursting my heart wide open.

Snow Goddess

And as life has it, I just posted the video Stand by Me sent to me by Jane Axelrod, and lo and behold, another email of connection and sacred spirit arrives. This one comes from Bindu/MJ Delekta who teaches her special brand of yoga at The Sacred Circle of Yoga on Martha's Vineyard. Bindu just built the Snow Goddess at her yoga studio. Her retreats are worth the trip at any time of the year.

Standing By Each Other

The world is wonderful in how small it has become and how easy it is to reach out and be with others. An email communicating the very spirit of connection arrived in my mailbox from Jane Axelrod, a therapist in the Boston area who is the epitome of joy in connection.

Jane sent me this video of musicians around the world playing Stand by Me. I had to do my part and pass on the spirit of joy.

Thanks to all you who have stood by me through so many years. May we all stand together in creating a world of love, joy, and good health.

The Guiding Arrow

Perhaps this life is about remembering who you really are. Walking like Hansel and Gretel into the dark forest, dropping bread crumbs to find your way home. What trauma does is send in the wolves to eat the bread crumbs so we can’t find them when we look for them. Yet, the path out of the darkness remains. The path has always been there, it has been obscured, hidden, gotten completely covered over. But it’s there.

My father had always wanted to walk the Camino de Compostela in Spain. He had learned about it in the 1950’s when he was living in France. The Camino is one of the oldest Christina pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela in Spain.

Having wanted to make the journey, my father put aside this dream when he met my mother, had five kids, and lived a full life. Many years later, almost fifty years later, my mother had died, my father was 84 and he remembered his dream. My sister and I offered to go with him.

Ah, I digress from the main part of the story.

Over the centuries, the Camino had fallen into disrepair. People who walked the Camino had a difficult time finding their way. The path, even today, can be pretty treacherous. Someone decided to help and walked the Camino a box of spray paint and marked the way with arrows: this is the way. Now this way. Take this right.

Those arrows guided our journey. We walked the last 100 k’s which still took 10 days. Those arrows marked the path, and brought us to the cathedral in Santiago de Compestolo.

This story comes to mind as I reflect on my what I'm up to in this life. As I listen inside I'm aware that part of my path is to illuminate that path for others who suffer. Part of what I am called to do is be a signpost on the journey – go this way – this way, try this…. We get lost in this dark period of our life, We feel stuck and unfortunately feel terribly alone. Yet, we aren’t. You aren’t.

What I want is to create a resilient community of people who understand the dark and forboading world of trauma, who have lived the chaos but are willing to serve as helping hands, as guides along the way.

You are not alone. There is help on the road. The path is there. You can, and will, find your way to safety, sanctity, care, kindness, possibility.

Change is coming

Truth is, I wasn't able to blog right after I wrote about the Inc article. Why, you ask? Well, the week after I blogged about the Treadless article, I got an email from Jeffrey Kalmikoff who is the CCO of Treadless. Frankly, reading the email I felt my eyes fall out of my head.

Jeffrey wrote, "It's a great feeling when you read something from someone who not only lives outside of the tech "bubble" but also seems to understand our motivation better than people within it. You're right, it is about connectivity between ourselves and the people in our community, forming and nurturing those relationships."

Now I know there are spiders and robots and all kinds of techie things that monitor postings and web info behind the scenes. I know that and it makes sense that some spider/robot/secret agent thing trolled through the net and pinged the info to Jeffrey.

That's not the big news. The big news is that Jeffry takes the time to respond to these things, to drop a little note of appreciation for the post. (And yes, one of his parents responded too. I'm still reeling from that.)

Imagine if someone in General Motors or General Electric were to take the time to respond to positive press out there in the ether. Imagine the good will that would be generated. Someone told me yesterday that he's been a customer of Verizon since they first started a wireless business. (Frank disclosure here: I've been totally, thoroughly impressed with Verizon's behind the scenes support for our office DSL. Truly magnificient.) But this person, let's call him Keith, has never heard a word of appreciation for his business with Verizon. Not a thank you, not a discount, not a title of "preferred customer" after over 10 years.

Gosh, perhaps Verizon could use a little coaching from Jeffrey. (Okay, I apologize for the sarcasm....) Maybe these "old school" businesses might want to learn to take the time to say thanks, we appreciate your business.

Interesting, isn't it?

The gift for me in this reflection is about learning to be appreciative, learning to give thanks more often, relaxing into the moment and seeing the moments of generosity that live quietly in the corners of our worlds. What Jeffrey did was write a note, probably no big stretch for him. For me, though, it had me realize how amazing the world can be if we're willing to include and appreciate and give thanks.

The weekend after I got the note from Jeffrey I was giving a presentation to the New England Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation. Yes, it's a mouthful. Usually people just say, NESTTD. Anyway, I told the story of writing this blog and getting the response... and the standing room only crowd of therapists listened intently. For them, my writing a blog is somewhat mind boggling -- but more than that is knowing and hearing and validating how much the world is changing. The gentle moments of appreciation have quiet, steady ripples throughout our world.

May we open even more to the goodness in the world.

Bringing Up Hope

Inc Magazine is undoubtably one of my favorite magazines. It highlights innovations that are happening in entrepreneural businesses. I find it uplifting, exciting, interesting. There's generally something that makes me think differently or shifts my perspective.

I'd gotten behind in my reading recently. Buried under a pile was the June, 2008 issue of Inc. The front cover (shown above) were these two (young) guys in t-shirts and the headline "The Most Innovative Small Company In America." It made for great late night reading.

It makes me feel old to say, or think, this, but boy, these young kids are really interesting. It's a whole new world. Instantly I was reflecting on attachment and how these kids were brought up differently from those of us brought up with depression era parents. It's fascinating.

So, let me slow down. The guys on the cover are Jake Nickell and Jeffrey Kalmikoff, executives of Threadless, which is a t-shirt company, well, not just a t-shirt company, they run design competitions on social networking sites whose members vote on the designs they like best. Threadless then prints up the t-shirts and sells them.

Well, if you're like me, one of the old folks, you'd wonder how t-shirts could be such a hot item. Hot they are. Inc writes, "Revenue was growing 500 percent a year, despite the fact that the company had never advertised, employed no professional designers, used no modeling agency, ... had no sales force, and no retail distribution."

But more interestingly, from a psychological perspective, these guys are wired differently. They are connected in ways we (those of us over 35) never were growing up. Yes, it's obvious, we were never wired to the internet. But I mean wired for connection to other people.

Those of us with depression era parents grew up thinking we were on our own, it was up to us, we had to do it. This article illustrated what my younger clients have been describing. The Threadless guys are listening to people. There's a distance that's been eliminated. The roles have changed. It's not "I'm the company and I'll make what I think you need" but as Nickell is quoted in the article, "Why wouldn't you want to make the products that people want you to make?"

It really alters the power relationship, a movement away from passive consumerism. It makes me wonder -- who are you inside to hold power so differently? What kind of modeling did you have in order to have you think so differently? What environment supported you in being so related to others instead of having to do it alone, tough it out?

Reflecting on those younger than me coming of age, formed by relationships, connected to others, interested in what others have to say gives me great hope. It's intriguing to me to sit here in midlife seeing the hope and connection that those younger are bringing forward.

The Couple

How long has it been? I wondered to myself as I sat with this couple across from me. Probably a year and a half.

I knew something had changed when the wife sat on the couch with her husband - instead of on either chair across from him where she'd sat for most of our sessions. Today the wife glowed with her unique combination of light, grace, joy, innocence, and playfulness.

Flirting with her husband, reaching out, touching him the room was filled with this radiant warmth and sexuality. It fluttered around and settled on us all. There were no words. There really was nothing to say but to savor.

I told thim when I first me with them the same thing I say to every couple. I don't know if it's right for you to stay together. But whatever you decide, let's find a way to do it with love, respect, kindness.

Well, they certainly did. There were times when I thought, gosh, I don't know. They may not make it together. The strife, the unspoken and spoken upsets, the small but chronic rejections were there. Yet, they moved through the struggle, the anger, the despair, the ruptures, and somewhere in the middle of all that they each found their own self - and each other.

As the husband readied to leave into the cold November evening he said he wished I would write more in this blog.

This is for him, for his wife, for all of us who sink into the unknown hiding the secret hope that life can get better while doubting it at the same time.

How lucky am I to see through the layers of pain and suffering into the shining truth that love prevails. What a gift to journey with people through such muck and anger and come through to warmth, connection and radiant love.

Link

Looking for Possibilities

I'm a bit puzzled when people ask me how I feel about global warming. People have a lot of energy, a lot of charge about being on one side of the issue or the other. I haven't been able to find myself on that polarized spectrum. Which isn't to say that there isn't an issue worthy of exploration. How about it if we talk about solutions, possibilities instead of who's right or wrong on the issue.

Let's look more at the creative solutions, the possibilities. That's what appeals to me in situation slike this. I'm not interested in positions that ring of doom and gloom or the destruction of the world as we know it. Let's instead unite our create capacities to find unique and exciting solutions to the problems that face us. Let's find ways to bring those solutions to market.

Let's take for example the Tesla, the 100% electric car that can go from 0-60 in 4 seconds and can drive 200 miles on one charge. Now, that's great ingenuity. At the moment there have only been 100 Tesla's produced - and yes, at a steep price, $100,000 (okay, I'm exaggerating, it's really $98,950.) But the company is committed to finding a way to bring the same technology to a more moderately priced car. What's intriguing is that if they can do this for an expensive car, and if there's demand, there will be moderately priced cars out there soon, running only on electricity.

Or, let's look at what's been going on the the International Development Design Summit at MIT. This group is a collection of 50 students, teachers, and community partners who are looking for solutions for some of the world's poorest people. It's quite moving to see what they're coming up with. One solution is a transparent plastic backpack that uses the sun's heat and ultraviolet rays to disinfect the water inside the backpack. This allows the water to be carried much more easily than in a heavy pot on your head as many women in poor rural regions do. In addition to having to carry such weight over often long distances, the United Nations says that almost one-fifth of the worlds population doesn't have access to safe drinking water. This little gadget would disinfects the water on the way home. All for $5. How ingenious is that!

And then there's the charcoal briquettes made from sugar cane refuse intended to provide fuel for the poor in Haiti. These were created by Amy Smith, a MacArthur Fellowship "genius" award winner who wanted to find alternative fuel sources to help alleviate Haiti's deforestation and lack of afforable fuel. She was also concerned with how existing charcoals create respiratory problems. The solution: these sugar cane refuse briquettes. I love that they're made from "refuse" the throw away parts of another product - sugar cane.

Finding out about solutions like these give me a sense of hope, excite me with possibility, stimulate the creative ideas of what else can be. There is an antidote to hopelessness. It lies in looking for possibilities in the midst of what looks dark and empty. It lies in believing in what's next. There's always something else emerging.

Coming Home to Yourself

You believe in something, don’t you?” clients have asked me over the years. I do, it’s true. Even though there are times, like this past week, when I can spin into a crisis of doubt and confusion about what I do believe in. I do believe in goodness, that the world is basically veers toward kindness, that we can change and grow and become more loving. I believe that compassion can encompass all. And yet, like this past week, I cycle into criticizing myself for being so simplistic and overly hopeful, and can’t I see how much pain and suffering there is. I have a part that will soundly rail at me saying, "Who do you think you are…..." After years of living intimately with these parts, I know how easily theses parts can hijacked me into pain. disgust, hurt, or betrayal. More and more, though, I hear an instinctive response of compassion rising to meet those parts. I was actually startled to see myself responding so seemingly effortless to myself with a soft note of compassion. First there was surprise, and then a sinking into the compassion, an opening in my heart, and a relief. Absolute relief. Maybe, I marveled, compassion and kindness is becoming a habit. That kind of habit is what I want more of. Thich Nhat Han says that meditation is really a process of coming home to yourself. Interpreting that psychologically, when our parts relax and give us some internal room, we’re left with our true nature. Our true nature, many of the great spiritual teachers say, is one of quiet, confidence, kindness, clarity, softness, and compassion. One of my clients said it so beautifully today. We were talking about some of Thich Nhat Han's teachings. She said she realized that when Thich Nhat Han says “I am the flower” he isn't separate from that essence. She said, laughingly, that when she sits to imagine the flower, she has to conjure up the image and then become the flower. How nice, she imagined, to arrive at a state inside when she would know that she simply was essence, instead of having to work so hard to become it. I couldn't agree more.

Courageous Moments

For some reason this morning I told a client the story of my mother’s passing. On reflection, it was because this woman had been struggling for twenty years to accept a devastating experience in her life. She hadn’t accepted it twenty years ago and still couldn’t come to terms with it, all these years later. She hated what it had done to her life.

During our conversation, I flashed to my mother’s passing three years ago and decided to tell my client the story. My mother had had a massive heart attack and had lost half her heart. Unable to breathe on her own, she was put on a respirator while we waited for the rest of the family to arrive. My dad wanted to make the decision with all five kids there. So we waited in that limbo space with her, with him, with all of us. When we were all there my dad gave the order to have the tube removed. It took some time for my mother to regain consciousness. When she did, she looked around, blinking, and with a scratchy voice asked, “What happened?”

That moment will live as the defining courageous and humble moment of my life. My dad, my Irish Catholic, not very talkative dad, looked at my mother and spoke without embellishment or elaboration. The clarity defined the moment. “Dorothy, you’re dying.” He let the words hang in the air. I felt myself explode into the grandness of the moment. The immense reality had been spoken. There was no dissonance there.

My mother, trying to grasp it, spoke the question back, “I’m dying?” “Yes, Dorothy, you’re dying. You had a heart attack and you won’t recover.” No “ifs,” “buts,” or any confusion. There it was. The reality of the moment. My father opened us to reality and allowed us to enter this sacred journey with my mother as she left her body.

The story led my client and me into a larger question: How often do we let ourselves be with reality as it is? Mostly we seem to want to change it, alter it, shift it, bargain with it. What courage it takes to be with it. Soften into it. Allow it to be there, talk to us, communicate with us and alter us. My client thanked me for the story. I thanked myself actually. The memory always alters me. The inquiry invites me into quiet reflection. Mostly I thank my father for the courage of his being.

The Mermaid Chair

“I felt amazed at the choosing one had to do, over and over, a million times daily – choosing love, then choosing it again, how loving and being in love could be so different.”

It is as though life is about making those small, moment to moment choices to love to step into that dance. Sue Monk Kidd wrote her novel, The Mermaid Chair about a woman Jessie who travels into her life to re-find what the love that is precious to her. Along the way Jessie dives deeply into herself and begins to dance again, stepping into the dance of the divine running rampant.

“Sometimes I experience God like this Beautiful Nothing…and it seems then as though the whole point of life is just to rest in it. To contemplate it and love it and eventually disappear into it. And then other times it’s just the opposite. God feels like a presence that engorges everything. I come out here, and it seems the divine is running rampant. That the marsh, the whole of Creation, is some dance God is doing, and we’re meant to step into it, that’s all.”

On"Mattering" and Being Aligned

Not being much of a celebrity watcher I had never seen Reese Witherspoon do much until she accepted her Academy Award for Best Actress for her role as June Carter in the movie, Walk The Line. After watching the Academy Awards (which I love since I love seeing people being acknowledged, more than I care about the films) I heard that she was commanding the highest fee (supposedly $29 million) for women in film, equaling that of the top men. In her speech that night, Reese spoke of her parents, "I am so blessed to have my family here tonight. My mother and my father are here. And I just want to say thank you so much for everything, for being so proud of me. It didn't matter if I was making my bed or making a movie. They never hesitated to say how proud they were of me. And that means so very much to a child."

Imagine having someone proud of you for every little thing you did. It's easy to be proud of someone for getting an award or doing something that is obviously successful. It's much harder to remember to be proud of others, or ourselves, for the simple things, like making your bed. I reflect on the lives of most of my clients. They haven't had the experience of someone being consistently proud of them for the big things, let along the little things.

Watching Reese accept her award that night, I could see the "energetic" difference that made in her. She held herself with a certain clarity that was solid and yet clean. Knowing she has a "good" image in the press, I could see why. She looks like someone who doesn't attract "icky" stuff. She seems to radiate goodness and ease and a certain comfort level.

Reese also spoke of the impact her grandmother had on her, "My grandmother was one of the biggest inspirations in my life. She taught me how to be a real woman to have strength and self respect, and to never give those things away. And those are a lot of qualities I saw in June Carter. People used to ask June how she was doing, and she used to say -- "I'm just trying to matter." And I know what she means. You know, I'm just trying to matter, and live a good life and make work that means something to somebody."

How simple that statement is, "I'm just trying to matter." Seeing that desire to matter in Reese combined with the internal, psychological platform of growing up knowing what she does matters to others (like making her bed!) shows up in her energetic alignment. What was/is, so striking is how she has that sense of being completely aligned inside. All the internal pieces line up (hence her ability to command a terrific fee for each movie). The inside lines up with the external reality.

It's so much easier to have that kind of alignment when you had a childhood that laid those positive pieces down. But not having it earlier on doesn't mean we can't have it now! Reese gave us in her speech keys to doing it for ourselves: having our lives matter and being proud of every little thing we do. Sometimes the teachings come in interesting ways!

Finding New Thoughts?

It’s hard to find something to be uplifted about when our minds have been bogged down with negativity for a long time. I saw that this morning as I watched a client this morning come in feeling lousy, heavy, despondant. Having centered myself before she came I wanted some shift to occur and was willing to wait patiently for the opening to support the shift in happening. We explored the anger and hatred that fills her like the tree roots spread deep through her system. Feeling like that how could she change she asked? We tried some techniques to support her shift, especially Internal Family Systems. That worked a little bit.

And then we fell to talking. She expressed how she couldn’t even imagine feeling good each day. She hasn’t felt like that in 20 years. I challenged that thought, after all I knew there were tiny, overlooked moments in every day where she had a laugh or felt a tiny bit better. I told her it only takes seconds built on other seconds for each moment to shift. She had seen the movie, What the Bleep? and loved it. I thought it a handy moment to remind her about Candace Pert’s work and how these little synapse get reinforced with each thought that we have. Each thought builds on the other, sending neurons firing in one direction. The more we repeat the thought the more habituated the synapse are. That path is so familiar and easy. The thoughts come without thinking.

Finding new thoughts can feel more difficult. Thinking about the work of Abraham I suggested we take 20 seconds to feel good. Just 20 seconds. No big deal, I’d help her I told her. I asked her what happens in her body when she imagined her son seeing her feeling good and doing better in life. Relief she says. How’s that feel in your body? Better. Let’s think of other thoughts to help you move in that direction. For the next minute we sat there and felt the relief and the ease and how good it would feel if he saw her that way. Happened easily and effortlessly. Only 60 seconds. Sounds like a miniscule amount of time, but you know, we all know, that when we are feeling bad, shifting those thoughts is not the easiest thing to do.

It’s really the razor’s edge. Shifting our thoughts. Bob Proctor has an excerpt on his website called the Razor’s Edge. He reminds us that there’s can sometimes be not much difference between one person and the other. Often it’s just those little thoughts that over time tip in one direction or the other.

Thinking about that my client told me that she and her son like to watch American Idol. I had actually caught 20 minutes of the show last night so I could be somewhat intelligent about it. They love watching it and seeing what makes the difference between one kid that wins and one that gets told it’s the end of the road. I asked her if she remembered the kid on the show, Kevin Covais, the one that looks nerdy, with the really short, stubby hair and glasses. Ah, yes! She lights up. Her son loves him. Feels that kids is the underdog and identifies with him. I asked her how a kid like that could have such good energy. Right away she’s nodding. She knows exactly what I mean. This kid wouldn’t be on the show without whatever light he has inside him. He feels like such a good kid. Makes you just want to love him.

She got it. I asked her how she felt inside. Relaxed, happy, pleased. Not like she came in. It’s not anything I did. She did it. All she had to do was remember what makes her feel good and expound on it. Second upon second, minute after minute, until it becomre more of a habit than the anger and pain she’s been living with.

She left smiling. Feeling inspired. Gotta say, I did too.
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Belonging

One of my clients spoke of it today. Was it just that I was listening for it? I’d been thinking about it for weeks now. Is that why the topic showed up? Or is it just that much more present in the world than I had thought? She spoke of needing to find something to belong to. Having been unemployed for well over a year now she no longer wanted to belong to that world, she wanted to work, to find her beloningness in another realm. It’s not, as she said to me, that she doesn’t belong to her partner, her mother, her family, but she wanted more. She wanted more.

I thought once again of a conversation I had had many years ago with the poet David Whyte. We were talking about my work with trauma survivors. He pointed out that everyone belongs to something, even if it’s their depression, their rage, their commitment that nothing good happens to them. David gave me a gift that day. In pointing out that we all belong to something, the psychic itch to support people to belong in more empowering ways began.

“….this is where I want
to love all the things
it has taken me so long
to learn to love.”

David Whyte wrote those lines in a poem, The House of Belonging. It speaks of the necessary shift to love the things it has taken me so long to learn to love. How often I hear clients long for this life they haven’t yet learned to live. It’s just as often that I hear clients, and myself, riveted to their stories of what isn’t there, what isn’t working, and why it can’t, and won’t, work in the future.

What does it take to learn to love, to belong to something more meaningful?

Over the years, as I listen to clients and hear their profound longing, I marvel at our world which has us live so disconnected from the energy of life that springs unbidden. I watch as people struggle to let go of what they’re supposed to do, who they are supposed to be, to slowly grasp for the energy inside that bubbles and bursts with joy and well being.

Why is it so hard to listen to that well-spring? Why do we struggle to follow it? That is a thread to follow for another day. Today, I write of belonging, of knowing the gentle letting go that comes from holding a baby or an animal, feeling it’s breath going in, and out, and in, and out. Today I want to remember the feeling of my nervous system letting go, one synapse at a time. I want to remember and relax into the groundswell of wisdom that arises in those precious moments of letting go and opening to something new.

“…. Now their loneliness
feels familiar, one small thing
I’ve learned all these years,

how to be alone,
and at the edge of aloneness,
how to be found by the world.”
-- David Whyte Ten Years Later

Life as a Guru

There are moments when life has a will of its own. Those are not the moments I love when they happen. They are, however, the moments that have marked my ongoing evolution. I’m grateful for the years of ashram life that invited me to see everything, and everyone, as a potential teacher. Not always easy when the event, as Rumi wrote, is “a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture.”

I recently had one of those moments. You know, those moments, that last longer than the chronological experience. I shan’t describe it in detail. Its not an event in which I look the hero. I wasn’t at my best. I spent some time struggling to meet that experience in the way Rumi suggests, “treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.”

Those are the ancient teachings of yoga. Rumi continues, “The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.” Therein lies the heart of yoga. Whoever, whatever, is the teacher, the guide, the key to transformation.

Well, as I said, those are hard concepts to keep in place when you’re seeing the worst in yourself. I’m relieved to read Rumi’s humanness, to hear that he knows and writes about the darker side of life, “the dark thought, the shame, the malice.” I know them well. They have visited me on more than one occasion.

Having a spiritual life or framework makes it easier for me to bear the dark underbelly of life. Perhaps the cynics are right, spirituality is a panacea. They may be right, but living life where the shitty things are guides to transformation makes it easier for me to bear the heavy ache of my heart when my darker demons emerge. It helps me soften the edge of defensiveness, of protectiveness that I imagine keeps me safe.

My beloved David told me recently that I am a porcupine. Reflecting on that I know the prickly truth. Deepening into those words I felt the flood of compassion that comes from bearing the vulnerability of life. I’m prickly not to hurt others out there from whom the perceived threat comes, but to protect the soft, tender core that still believes there is no love to come her way. In terms of the Internal Family Systems model, that is clearly an exile, a part that has been cordoned off to protect it from harm.

And as I meet this part, perhaps not quite yet laughing as Rumi suggests, but meet it with compassion and tenderness, I find the way through the dark underbelly of life. This is why this experience has come: to invite me beyond the pricklyness of my defended life into a life more rich in love. Softening into life instead of defending against it gives me the possibility of living with my heart steady in the midst of the “crowd of sorrows ready to sweep my house empty of all its furnishings.” Now I can be ready to embrace the events in a wholly different way.

Here's Rumi's poem

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes with an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

Trauma Conference 2005

Writing for this blog has been a learning experience. I’m always aware of the internal threshold I have to cross in order to write something, express something from my heart. There are some old fears about being seen, yes. But there’s also this internal desire to shift my working vocabulary from old patterns of Irish Catholic sarcasm and fear to the steady perspective of seeing the best in others. I don’t know if it’s true for others, but it's a discipline, a real spiritual practice.

This reflection arose as a few people mentioned to me that they noticed I hadn’t been posting anything. How gratifying that people notice. There are parts of me that are surprised that people take the time to seek this blog out.

One of the reasons I haven’t been posting to this blog is that I was co-presenting a workshop at Bessel van der Kolk’s Trauma Conference and had some work to do to get ready for it. I’ve been to innumerable conferences throughout the world over the years, but this one affected me in ways conferences don’t. As with most of the conferences, Bessel had a number of people from the “hard” sciences, meaning not the touchy-feely ones that psychotherapy can be a part of. What affected me so much was that these very rigorous scientists spoke from their hearts while they were talking about research studies and neurobiology. Steve Suomi talked about his work with rhesus monkeys and what they are learning about attachment. They’re even exploring the genetic component that might be there between individual monkeys and their inability to fit into monkey society. He spoke very fast for well over an hour and a half, and I sat there enthralled. I can honestly say that doesn’t happen much at conferences!

Alexander (Sandy) McFarlane was another one. Brilliant man and terrific poetic speaker. He wove together the arts and the study of trauma. Again, another chance to sit there for an hour, present and listening while he presented research graphs and described the effect of trauma on a person. He presented studies that showed the delicate interaction of cognition and trauma. There are those with trauma who can’t pull on their cognition as those who haven’t been traumatized. They can be flooded with stimuli and unable to sort out the irrelevant with the necessary. I’m sure I was listening not just to help my clients but to map it onto my own experience.

We also had a talk from David Servan-Schreiber the author of a run-away bestseller in Europe, The Instinct to Heal. The title says it all, the body has an organic instinct to heal itself if we listen to the body, integrate the body and mind, generate more calm and relaxation than not. I bought the book, of course, and am enjoying the read.

The everyday clinical experience was presented by Janina Fisher, who gives wonderful support to the day to day treatment of trauma. Her easy, thoroughly accepting manner calmed us all and reminded us to enjoy the roller coaster ride that is trauma treatment.

We watched the videos Karlyn Lyons-Ruth presented from their attachment research. The most painful was seeing what happens to babies who are ignored by their caretaker. Heartbreaking……

One of the most personally striking impressions for me after the conference was how differently I listen and pay attention when someone is talking from their heart, from their enthusiasm than if they are divorced from their experience. I stopped going to some conferences because the scientists just talk and I sit out there listening and inevitably clicking off inside. I try to return to the talk, try to bring my focus back, but I inevitably wander off again. Yet, here, where people were alive with their work, I can no problem focusing and attending.

The result of the conference was returning me to me. What opens my heart? What thrills me? And how do I continue to learn to speak from that. The last four months I have had to pull back from the busyness of life, of my practice, of teaching and traveling. I want to more balance so that I can genuinely link together my love of life, the work that I do, and my desire to generate more love with others. What could be better than that?

The Quilters of Gee's Bend

What is it like to be dormant for your whole life, in poverty, with no access to a larger life, and no hope of anything more occurring? What is it like to live like this for years and then have the world come to your door, wanting what your heart and soul created during those dormant years? What is it like to suddenly be noticed and be paid large sums of money for doing the simple things you’ve always done: keeping your kids warm and warming your own heart with the creation of colors and shape into form? What is it like to go from quilting in Gee’s Bend, Alabama to having articles written about you in The New York Times and having your quilts shown in The Whitney Museum and soon at the MFA in Boston? This journey of women, descendants of slaves, who live in a in a small town whose poverty sounds like the kind those of us brought up in a gentler world run away from was written up in The Boston Globe on Sunday. Their story is not my story, and yet it resonated with my story, or maybe the universal story of being hidden, lost, unseen and then the mythic coming visible, becoming known. What is it that allows that to happen? How do we journey from that kind of dark, insular world to one in which the world is large, bountiful, and gracious? What transformations are necessary inside in order to allow that kind of opening? Reading the story I read my heart's hope that life does allow for miraculous unfolding. But why? Why for some and not for others? What creates the space for the dynamic intersection of individual desires and global generosity? And do we have to live for generations in the dark before the world opens its doors? Or, is Kafka right when he wrote, You don't need to do anything. Remain seated at your table and listen. You don't even need to listen, just wait. You don't even need to wait, become still, quiet and solitary And the world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice. It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

Ashes and Snow Exhibit

Gregory Colbert is exhibiting his extraordinary Ashes and Snow show at the Nomadic Museum in New York. The exhibit is housed in this nondescript building on the West Side piers. From the outside it’s nothing. On the inside, it’s like a minimalist cathedral. Sublime photos of people and animals line the aisle while a video beacons you from the front.

The photos are entrancing. The juxtaposition of animal and human and the sensitive interplay between them is beguiling. Most of the humans in the photos have their eyes closed inviting me into a shared meditation. Their stillness reminds me to surrender. Contentment swelled inside me as I saw the bodies relaxing as they were nestled against the elephants or the whales.

The video installation played while Colbert read from his letters. At one point his words wrapped around my heart and opened it. “My heart is like a book that hasn’t been opened in a very long time.”

I’m surprised at the general state of shut down I’ve lived in as I focused on my profession. How did that happen? How did I live with my heart open to such a little degree? The journey I am on in writing this blog is an exploration of coming from an open heart regardless of the situation. As I make that the focus of my inquiry I see how often, and how easily, the door to my heart narrows every more. Without tending, it closes like those pneumatic hinges that close softly behind me.

I'm grateful for the shift in my focus, away from the hurly burly of life into a grander inquiry. Moments like these during the Ashes and Snow exhibit I appreciate those like Gregory Colbert that take their time to invite me into a tender embrace of life.

Let Me Meet You Somewhere Today

Today I met with a nun (I'll call her L) who told me how she starts every day. Before her feet touch the ground she says a statement, "Lord, let me meet you somewhere today." Then she told me some stories of how, and who she met during the day. People who felt loved by being with her, without her needing to do anything. The quality of her care communicated everything. I felt it in the moment of her telling me as well. Tears sprang to my eyes and fell. How lovely. What a wonderful way to prepave the day, let me meet you somewhere today.

I'm struck by the simple expectation that I will meet you today. Not the presenting part of you, not the social part that knows how to interact in the necessary necessities of every day, but the You, the part of you that is connected to God, to Love, to Source energy. Whatever word we use to call upon that -- how that opens my heart and prepares me to meet the best in you. It's as though those words call forth the best in you.

Recently the Boston Globe ran an article about Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, the spiritual teacher of Shambala who ran the Boston Marathon this past month. The article caught my eye. I was curious about a Tibetan lama running, getting sweaty and out of breath. It seems like an oxymoron. The running part of the article was interesting, but a quote intrigued me more. "Every human being is born with basic goodness, a quality inherent even in unpleasant individuals."

Part of my need (?) to write this blog was to reconnect to that awareness, that each and every one of us is basically good. It seems like I've been through a period of negativity, being more critical than I like to be. I found a bitterness in me that was beginning to gnaw on my heart. Hearing these words from this nun full of Love and then reading the article of the Rinpoche reminded me, redirected me to where I want to go.

Rinpoche continued in the article, 'An example is the sky," he said. "It's always blue but there can be clouds. Sometimes you think you're a cloud, but in reality, you're the sky. Through meditation, you can stabilize the mind and not be so carried away by your thoughts. What you do in life allows you to bring that basic goodness out."

How simple, and yet so complicated it is to shift from those cut off states back to a place of love, back to a state where the basic goodness naturally arises.

And how wonderful for me, that I met the presence of Love today through the gift of L. May I live in that expectation every day.

Inherent Goodness

Recently the Boston Globe ran an article about Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, the spiritual teacher of Shambala who ran the Boston Marathon this past month. The article caught my eye. I was curious about a Tibetan lama running, getting sweaty and out of breath. It seems like an oxymoron. The running part of the article was interesting, but this quote intrigued me more. "Every human being is born with basic goodness, a quality inherent even in unpleasant individuals. 'An example is the sky," he said. "It's always blue but there can be clouds. Sometimes you think you're a cloud, but in reality, you're the sky. Through meditation, you can stabilize the mind and not be so carried away by your thoughts. What you do in life allows you to bring that basic goodness out."

Ahh, that's what I like, reading things like this. And yet, I know the shifting I have to do inside in order to keep my mind stablized over time and to see the basic goodness in others.

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Creating Space for Uplifting Support

It's really all because of my friend Dakota Feinstein that this blog has been invented. She opened up avenues of thought I hadn't ever considered. She started a blog and has been running it for, gosh, has it really been years? It's wonderful. Her wit, insight, courage, and writing style makes visiting it a must-do. She gave me a wonderful means to do something I had thought about for a while.

I imagined creating an environment for myself and others that is about a joyous celebration of life - of love - even when we want to close our hearts, shut down, be self-righteous, defensive, critical. What if there was a space where all those aspects of ourself were acknowledged, appreciated, but where we are seen as more than that. A space where we are reminded of who we really want to be, who we really are, underneath all our defenses. I know after 28 years of spiritual practices and close to that many years of psychotherapy, that being human is glorious, that the pursuit of freedom and enlightenment is not just about sitting quietly and seeing the divine. Being fully alive is about knowing all those icky parts of us while also knowing we are more than that. This blog is to celebrate all that uplifts us and gives us joy while being with the ordinary events of life. It's to serve as a reminder for me when I forget.....

I wanted to create a space where we could remind ourselves that underneath all our stubborn upsets we are actually loving, caring, positive, joyful people. I thought it would be grand to come to a space where we could encourage and nurture the positive directions and experiences we want to have. In the past couple years I realized that all the negative media, all the critical and judgemental people, all our fears that life will contract and all the good things will go away, all of those things will always be there. I wanted a space that was dedicated to inspiring and reminding myself, and hopefully others, that life is ever expanding with love, that it's safe to live with an open heart, and that when I live that life more fully, I am happier and more joyful. I want to live in this moment, open to the thrills of the mediocre existence, and in that find the love that connects me to everything.