In honor of Earth Day I’ll be posting and blogging about ecospiritual poems this week over at inscendence.
And forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. ~ Kahlil Gibran
And forget not that the Earth delights to feel your bare paws and the winds long to play with your fur. ~ my dog Saxon
As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.
~ Goethe
I think Goethe was right when he said this. And rather than feeling uplifted, it makes me melancholy. I think lack of self-trust is the core reason why most of us (myself included) don’t really know how to live. What to do.
Moreover, it seems that everything in our culture conspires to keep us in self-doubt, looking always outward for our marching orders. For our significance. Validation. Identity. Parents and teachers are well-meaning, but I believe a lot of our early obedience-training reinforces us in a deep disquiet: that we are basically not okay, and we’re supposed to be doing something different.
So we form strategies for dealing with this and they typically involve either conforming or rebelling. Conforming tends to be the more successful option in terms of getting the goodies that our culture offers. But regardless of which strategy we choose, we still end up with a weird existential anxiety. When the soul starts calling us to authenticity, whichever pattern we’ve fallen into is inevitably in the way. Sooner or later on the soul journey, some disassembly is required.
Old patterns die hard. Self-trust and self-acceptance do not come easily. Especially to conforming types. But this is what the soul demands. It will have its way with us. And for that may we be grateful.
As I loosen the rusty bolts on my own patterns I like to read Derek Walcott’s poem “Love After Love” for encouragement. It helps.
The time will come
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror,
And each will smile at the other’s welcome…
Credit: Michael Wer
We don’t talk much about the underworld any more. The dark realms were such a strong undercurrent in pre-modern consciousness. There were so many stories. And ceremonies. Occasionally, even now, reminders surface. Little sparks and shadows that flicker at the edges of awareness, like the melody of a song that we dreamed long ago. But for the most part, we carry on as though it’s not there.
Society has trained us to be high-functioning in the middle world, now dominated by rationality, consumerism, and the institutions of modernity. Interestingly, though our culture is self-consciously secular, we still have robust traditions that encourage spiritual transcendence. Reaching towards the upper world remains a legitimate part of the human enterprise. But we no longer descend. At least not with clear intention or with the willingness to let the shadows instruct us. When we tumble down the rabbit hole it’s usually because we’ve tripped.
I want to make space in this blog for Persephone’s path – the descent and return. The soul journey often takes quite a few underground detours and I think it’s important to explore that terrain. But “detour” is the wrong word, already implying a bias. Instead, I suspect these are necessary adventures. On Persephone’s path I need to use night language, and the best way to do that is either to speak a poem or tell an old story. So here is a story from Northern Europe. It’s called the Erlkönig and I first heard Clarissa Pinkola Estés tell it.
There was a village at the edge of a forest. People there told stories about a supernatural being called the Erlkönig, who lurked in the forest at night to steal away the souls of anyone who happened to wander out into the woods. One night a man was riding home with his young son on his horse. They were tired. To save time, he decided to go through the forest. As they made their way through the woods, the boy became very afraid. He heard something, and told his father he thought it was the Erlkönig. His father reassured him, saying the Erlkönig did not exist, and all would be well. They rode on. Then the boy saw a figure coming closer, and again he warned his father. But his father said he was just imagining things and scaring himself with foolish stories and nonsense, and there was no Erlkönig. They rode on. But now the boy could see someone right behind them, reaching toward them, and he cried out in terror and the horse panicked and surged ahead at full speed and the man had to use all his strength just to hold on. When they arrived at their home the horse collapsed in exhaustion. And the man discovered that his son was dead.
I think of the man, the boy, and the horse as different aspects of the self. Because he operates purely in the world of rationality, authority, practicality, and the five senses, the man is not able to see the danger or to save his son. The boy – the part of the self that is emotional, open and transparent – is able to perceive the world of shadows and imagination, to see in the dark. The horse, representing nature and the aspect of the self that is connected to the earth, responds both to the boy and the danger.
Our culture trains us relentlessly to be like the man. But the story reminds us to stay connected to the parts of ourselves represented by the boy and the horse – to stay in contact with wonder and wildness. The story calls us not to transcend, but to something else…
credit: Oskar Henriksson
Have you ever been meditating only to find yourself completely overwhelmed and frustrated by the incessant, acrobatic gyrations of monkey mind? Some spiritual paths put a lot of emphasis on getting the little chimp under control. Or rather, getting better at being present, so he eventually decides to go sit in a corner and quietly amuse himself with a twig or leaf instead of bothering you. I don’t mean to pick on any of these well-intentioned traditions. The teachings aren’t the problem, it’s the way that we apply them. Namely, sometimes we put way too much pressure on ourselves.
Evolutionary psychology offers some insights that put the way I experience my inner world in context. As a result, I feel affection instead of exasperation towards my monkey mind, and showing the chimp a little love actually settles him down rather nicely. I wanted to share some of that wisdom from brain science as it applies to spiritual practice.
The human brain is the product of several iterations. The prototype reptilian brain is composed of the cerebellum and brainstem. These structures govern the five F’s: fight, flight, freeze, food, and the four-letter word that sounds like “fire truck”. These instinctual responses make our survival possible, and we should be very grateful to have them. But the reptilian brain can also get in the way of our best interests. For example, as I am writing this I notice that Katrina just posted a great piece about fear at Freedom to a Full Life that dovetails nicely with my point.
The limbic system developed with mammals. This governs the ability to feel emotions, and its healthy functioning includes dreaming. It enables mammals to form bonds and nurture young, which is unnecessary for reptiles (who lay eggs and set off to find a new partner to make more). The mammalian brain also enables the development of social groups, hierarchy, and the notion of status. Again, while I deeply appreciate the ability to form deep bonds and have feelings, I also see how this can get out of hand. And in so far as it amplifies reptilian drives with strong emotion and competitive status-seeking, the limbic system can get me into even deeper trouble.
Evolution came out with a new mammalian brain model via the primate neocortex. I think you can guess that this is where the monkey mind lives. The neocortex is akin to a computer – constantly processing permutations and combinations of information, including input from the reptilian brain and the limbic system. The primate brain is capable of generating scenarios, looking back into the past, or forward into the future. It weighs pros and cons, calculates probabilities, predicts consequences, and scientists speculate that this part of the brain is what makes free will possible.
What I appreciate about knowing this is that it shows me that many of my troublesome tendencies have their roots in ancestral ways of operating. Though evolution has added new elements, the old structures remain, as do certain unwanted patterns. When I understand where these patterns come from, they are easier to deal with. So I don’t have to beat myself up for eating that last piece of pie or missing my bus stop because I was daydreaming. Of course that doesn’t mean we get a free pass. It is not OK to simply shrug your shoulders and blame an affair on your reptilian brain. My point is that we can be a little more forgiving and gentle with ourselves for not being perfect when we understand and appreciate our less evolved parts. Fortunately, evolution is not done with us yet and has already provided a way to manage this motley inheritance.
We humans have a unique pre-frontal cortex or frontal lobes. This area performs what brain scientists refer to as “executive functions” like intentionality, purposefulness, and high level decision-making. This peculiarly human faculty involves the ability to override the less evolved parts of the brain. So there is no excuse for dismissing egregious mistakes as biological in origin. We actually do have the ability to know better and make wise choices. But when it comes to everyday slip-ups I think we can cut ourselves a little slack and thank our frontal lobes for the opportunity to do it right next time.
These days when monkey mind pays me a visit on the cushion I pat his furry little head and thank him for the ability to multitask, do my taxes, and remember a loved one who has passed. And then I choose to breathe in… and out.
credit: Päivi Tiittanen
I want to continue exploring practices that could foster mutual support for the spiritual-but-not-religious. Let’s start with circles. I am very grateful for the privilege I have to participate in a circle of women who meet regularly for this purpose.
There are elements that seem especially important, including:
The opportunity to gather with allies who share the goal of supporting one another’s soul journey is amazingly rich. It is different from simply sitting with a friend or loved one and sharing conversation. Perhaps because it allows us to set aside habitual roles and interpersonal patterns. But there’s something more. The power of group intention and conscious focus opens up a unique space that we cannot access on our own. Speaking one’s truth and being deeply heard by others enables a profound healing that is different from what we can achieve by ourselves. There is something mysterious about the energetic field created by group consciousness that triggers shifts and breakthroughs that may otherwise elude us.
I have participated in other groups and gatherings that were not as helpful. A major missing element was trust and the ease and freedom that it creates. When people bring small, stubborn agendas with them into circles it generates static and noise that clutters up the spaciousness that would otherwise appear. The willingness to set aside the anxious contraction of our egos is a key ingredient of transformative connection.
There are many circle practices beyond my example. Indigenous cultures are full of such traditions, including sitting in council and using a talking stick, prayer, ceremony, etc. Perhaps you can describe examples from your own experience? I recently participated in another circle that had several interesting rules that were new to me. First, the use of names was not allowed. So, when it was my turn to speak, I could not refer to something X said earlier. Second, no questions were allowed. The reasoning was that using names and asking questions pulled the group’s attention too much in the direction of specific participants (the one named and the questioner) and away from the emerging field of the collective.
Perhaps we also form a virtual circle of sorts through our blogs. I like the taking turns and holding space. Heart-speak. Thoughtfulness. Mirroring. I like watching an insight float up from California, or South Africa, or Seattle, and see how it settles and maybe works on me for a spell. The comments… bowing.
credit: Sigurd Decroos
I wanted to share an exercise that I use at times when I am concerned about clear communication. I often use this in advance of potentially volatile conversations, in preparation for dealing with a challenging person, or if I’m feeling muddled and I’m worried that I won’t be able to get my points across clearly. Sometimes I do this when I want closure with someone who is no longer in my life. This technique helps me to transmit my intention and heartfelt message to the other person on an energetic level. I find that if I’ve done it with compassion for all involved, the outcome is pretty good. Even if there is conflict when an encounter occurs, I feel clearer, stronger, and less reactive than I might otherwise have been.
The Blue Room
While I believe communication and shifts in relating are happening at an energetic level, I personally find the most beneficial part of this exercise to be the self-care aspect. I appreciate the opportunity to feel compassion for myself as I connect with my emotions, needs, and wishes. It helps me to feel more grounded in my own authority, integrity, and power. I also relish the sense of taking responsibility for how I am showing up energetically in that relationship.
I hope you find this useful. I would be interested in hearing about any experiences you have with the technique.
credit: Robert Linder
Our culture exhausts everything. The word “occupy” is all but used up. The media machine churns everything into banal pap, such that it’s difficult for our society to sustain meaningful conversation for very long. I don’t think it’s an accident. I’m not talking about a conspiracy, just observing that our culture seems set on a pattern of keeping us numb, feckless, and disconnected. The pervasive mood is one of ennui.
Nonetheless, ever since Tammy at Serene One posted the article containing the suggestion to “occupy yourself” I have been pondering what that might look like. I agree that on one level this is about presence and conscious embodiment, about cultivating intimacy with one’s thoughts, feelings, and sensations. But to what end? Without some sort of movement or action the intensification of self-awareness strikes me as nothing more than narcissism.
The article does suggest action: Sharpening our awareness should lead to a realignment towards positivity. I want to explore that further. I also want to link this back to the Occupy movement, because I think it’s important. We are souls making our way through a wabi sabi world, and spirituality is ultimately irrelevant if it does not address that untidy passage.
We can only consciously choose our path if we are aware of our location. Practices that help us get our bearings are vital. But having achieved a degree of clarity, how do we choose the way forward? I think we have to set our sights as high as possible. If not, we’ve already limited ourselves. I spent many years working in the environmental movement and I found it utterly demoralizing. What I learned is that when you focus on the problem, it ends up defining your experience. When you channel your energy into resistance, you match the frequency of that which you resist, and on some level you amplify it. You can become stuck in the energy of the hideous, toxic problem, and the despair and grief that surround it.
So I find myself wondering to what extent the Occupy movement has mired itself in the dark energy of injustice, suffering, powerlessness, and lack? A broad movement like Occupy cuts across a whole spectrum of motivations, including rage, victimhood, retribution, and despair. My hope is that the dark energy is offset by enough light to enable something constructive to emerge. I am no Pollyanna, but I have learned that it’s crucial to hold a positive, generative vision of what might be. In our own lives as well as in the world, the most powerful choices involve setting out in the direction of love and light; consciously occupying the path of our highest good.
