Tag Archives: Attachment

just eat the cake

17 Apr

Byron Katie:  A Thousand Names for Joy

from chapter 26:

Who would you be in people’s presence without, for example, the story that anyone should care about you, ever?  You would be love itself.  When you believe the myth that people should care, you’re too needy to care about people or about yourself.  The experience of love can’t come from anyone else; it can come only from inside you.

I was once walking in the desert with a man who began to have a stroke.  We sat down, and he said, “Oh my God, I’m dying.  DO something!”  He was talking through one side of his mouth because the other side had become paralyzed.  What I did was just sit there beside him, loving him, looking into his eyes, knowing that we were miles from a phone or car.  He said, “You don’t even care, do you?”  I said, “No.”  And through his tears, he started to laugh, and I did, too.  And eventually his faculties returned; the stroke had come to pass, not to stay.  This is the power of love.  I wouldn’t leave him for a caring.[…]

If you move into situations of loss in a spirit of surrender to what is, all you experience is a profound sweetness and an excitement about what can come out of the apparent loss.  And once you question the mind, once the stressful story is seen for what it is, there’s nothing you can do to make it hurt.  You see the worst loss you’ve experienced is the greatest gift you can have.  When the story arises again – “She shouldn’t have died” or “He shouldn’t have left” – it’s experienced with a little humor, a little joy.  Life is joy, and if you understand the illusion arising, you understand that it’s you arising, as joy.

What does compassion look like?  At a funeral, just eat the cake!  You don’t have to know what to do.  It’s revealed to you. 

(the absurdity of the play of this life seems conveyed in this visual/time/music juxtaposition – expletive warning)

the area of pause

9 Apr


The camera that follows me around catches me staring into space, not thinking, pausing.  From the outside, who can tell the difference?

At this pausing, gratitude is felt for the pregnancy found in this springtime spaciousness.  What is bursting forth?   If I were to compare this time to a short while ago, my now is much sweeter.  I can see how The now is abundant.  The now contains enough space for smooth feathers and long sighs, even as the work load piles up,  emergencies continue,  the bowling balls of obligation are dropped again and again – no matter – no problem – space gives space for everything.

Have we entered somewhere new?  Or have we stopped to catch our breath at the scenic overpass where we can mark our progress?  Have we shed some skin for good?

I see my use of “we.”  Am I a we?  Do I think in plural because of my daughters?   Do I mean me along with you who reads along these lines?   Are you too in pause, pregnant pause?

Today, I am bowing to Bukowski for his naked, boogieman truth, for his cries out to us across the years – helping us to unsee, unlearn; rolling clear here, as far as I can tell.

The mirror we hold to ourselves we hold for each other!  Looping overlapping pinging back returns through this beautiful poets lens for Pause:)

less than

4 Apr


Looking back I can see that for a long time, the math of my identity was this:

many things > me

This is an equation that was ever present yet hidden in plain sight.  i wouldn’t have admitted to doing this math constantly – comparing myself to others and always imagining I came up lacking.

When this basic equation sets the value of everything, other dynamics can enter, such as:

many things > me + (a+b+c+d…..)

A natural response to this equation is to add things to oneself to feel less less than, but the basic symbol will still stand in the middle, affecting all components of the equation.  You cannot add enough things to change the sign.

When you have incorrect math in your head, you are not relating to your experience with your true value.

Some people manage to flip it to be:  everything < me.

But most of us can see that this is just a reaction to feeling less than, too.

False equations are heavy and painful and incorrect.

Here is a helpful equation:

everything = me

when this is true, it is a short leap to:       all is me.

Seems I couldn’t change my equation until I was ready.  So when I see this incorrect math in the reflection of other people, I can love them and wait patiently for them from the other side of the equal sign, but I cannot solve the inequality in their heads.

When we  wake to see the real numbers and can remember the real worth of ourselves, we learn the value of everything!

Judgement Day

25 Mar

angry teacher

The part of my job that I find myself resisting the most is grading.  I have to judge the writing of others and assign a numeric value to this judgement.  Truth is, I pretty much know the grade within a few focused minutes, intuitively, and then I have to spend 10 or 20 more minutes figuring out how I know this and how I can be helpful with my comments.

I never see the online students face to face, and I found myself down right ruthless with my grading there.  I expected many students to drop after the first essay, but  guess what?  They held on tighter and worked harder for my approval.  Ah ha!  They responded to tough judgement by trying harder, while my face to face classes know I am open-faced accepting of them, and they flounder and disappear, often.  Interesting.

All sorts of people inhabit seats in a community college:

I had two students one semester who were in different sections, but so similar.  Neither of them ever turned in a single piece of writing to me.  We often discussed what they were going to write, but not one assignment came in.  But they were delightful to have in class.   They often found small portions of the whole lesson fascinating and  got the discussion off on a tangent.  They were pleasant, non-stressed and engaged with the material, though tangentially, and attended every day.

I have others who profess desperation to pass but never show up.  I don’t have an opinion about any of them.  When they show up at my podium, i love to look in their eyes.  I take away their guilt.  Guilt doesn’t help.   I offer the same to passing and failing;  my attention.

The numbers judge, but not me, and the numbers are actually out of my control.  The grading is a separate process far removed from the real work that is taking place between souls who are getting together, writing words, talking about ideas, joking, researching, pulling our hair out…BEing in space together for a time.

I used to think it was part of my job to judge.  That was a stressful and unnatural role for me. Judging others is a powerful force in our construct…another thing sold that is totally unnecessary. Students often come in with hands on their hips stances about all sorts of things, and I relish when I uncover this same positioning in myself so I can clear it on out!

Every path has value; every life is an expression of the divine; the more I come to life in this way, the more loveliness I see in every person and in every moment.

And yes, I am writing this right now instead of grading papers; not judging myself on that either 🙂

can one Act without the ego?

19 Mar


When I was around 11 or 12, I discovered I could act.  Where it came from was a mystery.  Some friends and I  took turns reading from a script for a director, and out of the blue,  I got the part of the lead character.  My friends seemed to have done just as well as me, but there was my name at the top of the list.  Many roles, accomplishments and harsh disappointments became the pattern in the following years along the journey of an actress.

I never understood where this skill came from.  It felt like a blankness.  I would empty and suddenly I would be speaking the words of someone else, moving in the body of someone else, and finishing would almost feel like coming to out of a trance.

But Ego came in and mucked everything up.  After adding ACTOR to my identity,  I lived in fear that this mysterious process would leave me.  When the ego stepped in, the clearing out of self necessary to become a character would stop and the acting would become forced and uncomfortable.

I wanted every part I auditioned for and grieved when I was not chosen.  In the middle of my college years, this ego identity was so full of suffering that I switched my major to Writing and tried to steer the muse into words, which didn’t seem to depend so on outward appearance, longing, and narcissistic self-loathing.  I thought the door of the acting world was shut.

But as these journeys go, often shadow elements swirl back again for further experience, further teaching, further understanding.  When Eden’s acting spirit landed upon her head near the same time as mine had, I was full of ambivalence.  Her gift seem to come in with an enormous shadow.  I have written much of her pain-body on this blog!

Finding myself tangentially in this world of acting,   I was asked to audition for a play last year, and thought, well, okay, why not?  The most interesting thing happened at the audition.  I didn’t care, not at all.  And in not caring, I had no motivation.  I sat there and enjoyed watching everyone, and I had no thoughts of “I want this.”   Seemingly, I had to have  at least that much ego to get up there an get the part.  I didn’t want it.  Oh, JoY.  What a nice circle to see.

But I do not know how one does the acting, performs the art, and keeps the ego out, or have the ego in balance enough to have the drive to win the part, perform the part.  Is there motivation without the ego?

I see Eden in the same dance as I experienced in this arena, and while I support, I cannot offter advice.  This is her journey.   I see the mirror work, I see the inspiration, I see the suffering.  Just recently she had a go at Alice in Alice in Wonderland.  The expression of the divine through her vessel was interesting to watch…she was a fiesty Alice.  (I was a bit worried for the Queen of Hearts at one point) 🙂  But she realized that her interpretation was quite different from the traditional Alice overhearing some  veiled comments around her, and I saw her suffer greatly in much the same way I used to…the view of the self through the lens of others for constant measuring is very painful.

alice tweedles

alice playing cardsOf course, I’m literally talking about acting in theatre, but also, the word acting implies any action taken, right?  Sometimes on the path to the true self, people hear the voice of identity warning them that they will be boring, lifeless, a sage in a robe with nothing to say.   Any movement in the world is subject to the forces of identity, self-gratification, narcissism, fear, as well as love, connection, flow from source.  Obviously, I don’t know how it all works, but that rings true to me.

It seems that finding the true self does not end the expression of the vessel in the world, just removes the confusion about that.

When the seeker stops seeking, none of these seeming paradoxes arise.

Whether to act or not act occurs without having to decide – in the natural flow of the true self.

if i’m nobody, who is posting this?

15 Mar

I’m Nobody! Who are you?

by Emily Dickinson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –  
To tell one's name – the livelong June –  
To an admiring Bog!

– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15392#sthash.Ch8lU0iE.dpuf


Regular conversations sort of throw me, at times.  Questions like where do you live? What do you do? What have you been up to?  Sometimes, I have to remember.  There is a pause while i put it back together to answer, because I have no idea.

That voice, telling itself the story of itself, who it is, how it fits in, sometimes it isn’t there.  I have taken myself out of circumstances in which I am forced to tell my story, so much so that I am surprised at times to realize I have to reconstruct in order to make sense.  The background of  most questions is not wanting the literal answer, but a connecting intention.  In the real flow, you can switch the gears up on these sort of encounters – answering questions asked but also bringing the moment to be about BEing  –  you and the other, bypassing to something much more interesting, in the moment,  lessing the labels or 3d definitions of self.     This different flow of encountering  just happens by being present, open and not reconstructing STORY.

Sometimes I forget my age, my gender; I’m just the walking.  Sometimes I’m surprised other people can see me; I  feel invisible  – in  a good way.

My friend recently returned to Facebook for a quick visit after a hiatus which made me observe this weird mirror.   I do have a profile because  my kids’ activities often require that contact point if I want to be informed about where to be and when.  But goodness, I will say, sometimes just looking and seeing that i have a face, a list of likes and list of distant acquaintances makes me feel dizzy and disoriented.  Sometimes even claustrophobic.  I look at my smiling face, my name and I know – that isn’t me.  Who is that?  If that is not me, then Where am I?

Sometimes I am so grateful for just having a roof over my head, then other times, I look around, and feel I have fallen.  I still have the access to the 3d values in the distant background.  Sometimes fear grips me momentarily because in some ways I am in a financial predicament; in other ways I am not.   It wouldn’t bother me, I think, if it were just me, but here I stand imagining I am providing for these girls…and nothing makes any sense.

I just don’t got it.  That simplifies things, actually.

But that middle of the night wheel can turn, and I feel the weight of that black panther of fear on my chest; I imagine the worst.  I have never gone without.  Is that not empirical evidence enough?  Why do I allow the fear to create a scenario in which we would not be taken care of?

“I”dentity drops away again, and I calmly do the next thing.  I have essays to grade.  Laundry to fold.  Food to be  purchased.  Drives to be provided.  Sleep to be had.   Music to be enjoyed.  Trees to be hugged.  Air to be inhaled.  I am not in charge.  I can not make it make sense to the mind.

a frog by the bog croaking imaginary woes – the first line is the one to return to:  I am nobody and that is very good!

night night, little monkey

12 Mar


I walk to the grocery, enjoying our warm weather and the longer evening of light after the time shift on Sunday.  While I walk, I calmly listen to the monkey mind.  Such a hyper little thing, at times. I am struck by his (why male?) sheer exhaustion.  For years and years,  the poor thing hardly lets up on his break-neck go go go go go.  Whew.  Deep exhale.

There is space and quiet present; the sound of birds, the distant humm of cars, the breeze on skin coexist with the chattering guy in the background.  Watching him in this way, I see and hear his exhaustion.  The mother role sees his fruitless efforts and wants to soothe his modus operandi on down.

“Hey, think about this.  Hey, look over here.  Hey, judge this situation; judge this person; worry about this thing.   We need to make a plan; we got to think everything through.   Listen to me, emergency over here.  The story of me is who I am…I am, I am, I am… Don’t shut me down, Nooooo!”  Jumping around, all the while.

“There , there little monkey.  No worries.  There is nothing that needs to be done.  I’m not going to shut you down; I’m just watching you from over here, with love.”

He reminds me of the sort of kid that goes full-tilt,  the sort of kid I think will never go to sleep; he is so wired until so very late…and suddenly,  I find him curled up and passed out under the dining room table; his face a reflection of utter peace.

sleeping monkey

%d bloggers like this: