Truth and radiance

One of the lessons from my childhood was to "tell the truth."  Then I learned that some lies are okay, even liked and rewarded.  When someone feigns confidence on-stage, for example, there is often applause, whereas showing one's own true lack of confidence there is likely to lead to humiliation.  Or if I portray my business as very successful, it seems to spawn more business, but if I talk honestly about the weak economy's negative impact on my business, I seem to gain little from it.

I've learned that the importance of "telling the truth" is relative. . . except in the sphere of deep reality, where discerning and telling My Truth is what matters most.  Deep reality bathes me in light and warmth.  It lies beneath my compulsive behaviors, my automatic thoughts, my feelings of shame and distress, buried by them to the extent that I forget to make contact with my depths.  It resides everywhere but is easily veiled by my busy mind, as it worries, ruminates, plans, goes over past events, creates ideas about other people's meanings, etc. 

When I tell myself My Deep Truth or allow that truth to speak to me, I begin to feel its radiance.  And the surprising thing is that others notice and actually comment on an apparent openness and radiance they sense in me.  Another surprising thing is that I seem to have found My Deep Truth by allowing myself not to know what it is and letting it emerge.

Light emerging from nothingness. . . it's an image that reminds me of the first part of the creation story, where light comes from the void and God calls it good.

I believe that all of us can find deep truth within ourselves.  It's often challenging and can take time, but never is it impossible.  Sometimes we need help from a spiritual guide or therapist to be able to surrender to not knowing and to let Deep Truth emerge. 

May you take the steps which are right for you to be able to locate your own Deep Truth.

Spaciousness and How the Spirit Sings

Funny, I've been listening to teachings on spaciousness, realizing how breathing all the way down into my own deep spaciousness begins to open me up to the Real in me, discussing spaciousness as the starting place with a friend who is facing an enormous task. . . and then this afternoon when I decided to take a break and look around on YouTube for some of my favorite singers, there it was again:  Spaciousness.

I listen mainly to classical music, and few things thrill me more than hearing a glorious voice with gorgeous execution, brilliant use of technique, causing music and singer to appear as one.  Having studied singing myself, I marvel at the melding of a performer's voice, conditioned breathing apparatus, finely honed muscular support, interpretive skill, and deep artistic feeling with wonderful music and lyrics.  I looked up Schubert's Ave Maria and listened to performances by Luciano Pavarotti, Barbara Bonney, and Susan Graham, each causing my eyes to well with tears, before going on to some favorite arias, just as powerful, and then clips of famous singers coaching young musicians. 

In a masterclass at Boston University, mezzo-soprano Denyce Graves worked first with an Asian-American bass-baritone.  She listened to his aria and decreed that he had a lovely voice, well placed, but was not giving it the space it needed to soar freely.  Using images and exercises, she helped him to create spaciousness, relaxing the voice and opening it metaphorically to a tall, wide cylinder of breath, no longer squeezed or limited. 

I imagined the cylinder for myself, with the spaciousness of the universe inside it, molecules roaming there or doing whatever molecules do without any sense of being compacted, riding on the breath of Being, able to be all that they are just as they are.  I believe I heard Spirit singing. 

I'm Stressed Out! Make It Stop! Don't Get Spiritual on Me!

Sometimes the stress of living is overwhelming, like a hailstorm with no end in sight.  It hurts, it's chaotic, it just won't let up.  You want to make it stop, and you can't.  At the same time, your spiritual teacher, your 12-Step group, or your therapist is telling you to let it be, to roll with it, not to take it personally, to appreciate the moment.  What?!?!?  They're kidding, right?

What's to appreciate about being pummelled?  How do you roll with it when you have too many responsibilities and too few hands to tackle them?  How is it not "personal" when your boyfriend says good-bye forever or you're fired from your job? 

To reckon with this sort of spiritual guidance means to take a different perspective altogether, and this is always hardest to do when the vicissitudes of the outside world seem to have control of you.  When you feel controlled by circumstances, your defenses go up, and when your defenses are up, you lose contact with your inner being.

Whatever the circumstances, your inner being is steady, calm, perceptive, and wise.  It waits for you to find it, and when you do, it will guide you to the extent that you stay open to it.  Your inner being knows that a more flexible you negotiates storms effectively, "rolls with" them.  It knows that when you are centered in yourself (not "self-centered," but centered in the depths of your inner being), you can let the outer world "be" and draw strength and courage from within.  It allows you to discern truth from falsehood, right action from re-action, and your responsibility from that of others.  In being with your deepest self, you are living in the moment. 

As I write this, the First of the Twelve Steps comes to mind.  It is openness to my inner being which allows me to admit that my egoic self, made up of all the defenses I have learned over a lifetime, is powerless and that manageability can come about only when I let my defenses loosen their hold.

I Want Him/Her to Like Me!

Since my last post, I've received the following question:  What if I really like someone and I present myself authentically, and I don't get the response I want -- he/she just doesn't seem to be attracted to me?

It's a hard reality to face when the one who kindles your passion doesn't seem to be interested in you.  As difficult as it may be, it's important to bring yourself back into contact with your inner self and be open to the feelings, sensations, and thoughts which have been stirred up by the other's apparent lack of interest. 

Do you feel rejected?  Depressed?  Embarrassed?  Angry?... 

Do you feel that you are uninteresting?  Unattractive?  A failure or a loser?... 

Do you feel like you've fallen into an abyss?  Stepped on hot coals?  Been beaten up or kicked aside?...

Do you sense tears forming?  Miscles tightening?  Face heating up?  Hands sweating?  Heart pounding?...

Do you notice thoughts about wanting to hide?  Lashing out?  Comparing yourself to someone?  Blaming yourself or someone else?  Getting back at someone?  Forcing someone to see your true worth?  Trying a different approach with this person?...

Whatever feelings, sensations, and thoughts you notice, be open to them.  Be in the here and now with them.  Be inquisitive about them.  This doesn't mean you wallow in them, but simply that you don't reject them and that you allow their presence to lead you to a deeper understanding of yourself.  What can you find out about yourself from your reactions?  Whatever it is that you find out, be careful not to criticize yourself.  In noticing, you're asking to learn from yourself -- without bringing judgment, either negative or positive.

With this attitude of inquiry, you allow yourself to grow.  Sometimes that growth involves learning that the person you approached wasn't really right for you in the first place, and maybe seeing something about him or her that you didn't see earlier.  It might involve acknowledging that you didn't approach him or her as authentically as you initially thought.  It could tell you that your expectations were too grand.  In some cases, it will show you that you somehow set yourself up for "failure."  It may lead to an understanding that the apparent rejection wasn't about you at all but about something in the other person's experience.  And there are myriad other possibilities, all from being in the here and now with yourself.

As you show up to yourself, your authenticity blossoms.

Dating and the Spiritually Inclined

Continuing my attention to relationships and spirituality, I want to address a question that frequently comes my way.  That is, how does a spiritual person enter the dating scene, when most dating advice has to do with creating an impression, transmitting the "right kind" of energy, leading with a sexual edge, and avoiding putting all your cards on the table?  What about authenticity and being true to one's inner being?

Dating gurus may be talking generally to an audience which is not spiritually tuned in, but I've found that in many cases their advice can be "translated" into messages that are good for the soul.  Let's translate this one, for example: "You have only one chance to make a good first impression."  If it sounds like an invitation for inauthenticity, ask yourself the following questions:  Do you meet someone with your heart open or are your first meetings typically more guarded or more controlling?  Do you view chance meetings or dating set-ups skeptically or from the perspective of a deep knowing that everyone who comes into your life has something to teach you?  Do you relax into yourself when getting to know someone, or do you either close the door on your inner being or try to force your inner being into the other person's face (or lap)?  Is the first impression you make born of the balance that is inherent in your deepest nature or of some sort of control you try to apply to it?

If you're like me, the "first impression" you want to make is one of realness, truth, and integrity.  It's the way you want to be.  It's you being here, now.  Focusing on the "impression" you're going to make can be a way of reminding yourself to let yourself be, here and now. 

Your presence does impress itself on the souls of the people you meet.  Does it make an impression of the truth at the core of your being?  You have only one chance to relax into this moment, right here, right now.

I Do My Spiritual Practices, So Why haven't I Found My Soulmate?

How many times have I heard this question?  Clients tell me all the time about a sense of hopelessness regarding the "pay-off" of their spiritual practices.  "I've done so much work on myself, I meditate, I tune into my body, I'm in touch with my heart, I observe my thoughts, I practice gratitude every day, and still Mr. or Ms. Right hasn't shown up in my life.  What's wrong with me?"

I asnwer, "Take some slow, deep breaths, settle into your body, feel your seat in your chair and your feet on the floor, and ask the question again.  What's wrong with you?...  The question itself indicates a disconnect within yourself, doesn't it?  Can you tune in to that?  Can you begin to sense a division within yourself, as you assume that something is wrong with you, that you're supposed to be something other than who you are, that there's fault to be applied to some aspect of yourself when you don't get what you want, that your destiny is precisely of your choosing, that you're capable of willing a situation into existence?"

"Yes," the response usually comes back to me, softer now and from a deeper place than the original question.  "I do feel that.  I recognize that I'm pressuring myself and taking a negative attitude toward myself.  I don't want to do that to myself.  I'm glad I can see it.  And yet... I feel so ready for a relationship....  And what about the Law of Attraction?"

"I'm sure the Law of Attraction is operative," I say.  "We do attract what we are, what we live.  And we find that what we attract isn't always what we expect.  From that deep space of our inner selves, we can ask for a miracle, for all the universe has to offer, and when we abide there in that deep space, we can receive miracles.  When they don't seem to appear, we need to do more questioning:

• Am I asking for a miracle from the deepest part of me I can find? 
• Am I staying open, allowing that deepest part to be touched by a miracle?
• Am I acknowledging the miracles, large and small, that show up in my life?
• Am I allowing for the possibility that not all miracles look alike or look like I expect them to?
• Am I releasing control to the universe, or God, or whatever I call the Divine?

So I invite you to keep practicing, keep attuning to your deepest nature, stay on your path, and keep inquiring."

How to Begin a Relationship

Several people have asked me to write about spirituality and relationships.  As with all beginnings, let's start with the breath.

Take some slow, deep breaths that go all the way down into your belly, and allow yourself to feel them as fully as possible. . . .  That is your life, right at your core and in your breathing.  Here is where you start a relationship.  It all begins with your relationship with yourself. 

Who is this being you find there in the breath, and what is your relationship with that inner self?  The character of this relationship forms the basis for your relationships with others.  The quality and depth of your intimacy with yourself determines the parameters of the intimacy you can have with someone else.

So notice what you find as you breathe:
What is it like to inhale slowly, to feel the breath in your belly as it resides there for a moment after the inhalation is complete, to exhale slowly, to feel the gap between the exhalation and the next in-breath?
What do you appreciate about your breath as you experience its movement?
What do you notice about yourself when you breathe deeply and slowly?
What holds you back from feeling your breath completely?
What keeps you from breathing further down into yourself than you do?

Experiential curiosity about our very breath leads us to experiential understanding of who we are, about who it is we take into relationship with others.

I'll continue this in my next post.  Meanwhile, breathe and notice.

First-Step Wisdom

The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous are a set of principles which have been adapted to offer guidance for compulsive people of many stripes.  The first of those steps is the basis for any further work to turn one's life around.  I paraphrase it this way to cover all possible addictions and compulsive patterns:  We admitted we were powerless over our own or someone else's addictive patterns or life chaos, that our lives had become unmanageable.

What is it to admit powerlessness and unmanageability?  Some criticize the 12 Steps because of these very concepts.  But I believe that most who offer such criticism simply misinterpret the words.  Here's what the First Step means from my perspective:

• My ego wants to maintain its standard way of functioning in order to protect me; it wants to protect me from having to look at hard truths, having to distance myself from people who have been important to me, and/or appearing to others in some way that feels unacceptable.  
• Some part of my ego believes I need to use alcohol or drugs or to continue to engage in certain other compulsive behaviors so that I can avoid looking at the hard truths, distancing myself from others, or appearing unacceptable in some manner. 
• No matter how much I say I want to quit drinking, drugging, biting my nails, saying yes to everyone, controlling my spouse, etc., that part of my ego which is engaged in protecting the status quo does its best to maintain my thinking patterns, maintain my behavior patterns, and quell my stated desire to change.
• That "protective" part of my ego is fixated on homeostasis.  It's like a thermostat whose temperature control switch has broken off, so that I ultimately have no control over it; yet it is this part of myself which has to loosen up in order for me to be able to give up the compulsion.
• Because of this "homeostasis meter" which is buried deep inside me, I am powerless over the compulsion itself, and because of the compulsion's undue power in my life, my life is (to a greater or lesser degree, but in all cases to some degree) unmanageable.
• To "admit" powerlessness and unmanageability is frightening to the protective part of my ego; such an admission challenges the status quo and sets off an alarm on my homeostatis meter. 
• So my first step is to work sensitively but firmly with that internal protective part of my ego to let it know that I see it -- just that I have opened my eyes to it and truly see it.  I don't judge it in any way.  It's not bad or good or wrong or right; it just needs to know that I'm aware of it and that I want to stay aware of it.  Or to put it slightly differently, I let myself see that there are hidden aspects to myself which I want to get to know, bring into the light, maybe even befriend so that I can begin to live in a less disjointed manner.

Self-Centeredness

Most spiritual systems -- indeed, most social systems -- teach that self-centeredness is a dead-end path.  Others don't like it when they see it in us, and we ourselves ultimately find that we're turning others off and blocking out opportunities for growth and learning when we adopt this defensive perspective.

Focusing our attention on our own wishes and desires to the exclusion of other things is, after all, a defensive strategy.  It's a way of battling with the world, reinforcing our fortifications against onslaughts from others, lying to ourselves that we're more important that anyone or anything else, and enslaving ourselves to a frightened voice from within which expresses the sense that something inside is missing, so we'd better cover up the vast hole.

But wait....  Isn't it contradictory that most spiritual systems also teach people to spend lots of time in self-reflection in order to "find themselves"?  Is that anything more than a way to normalize or ritualize self-centeredness?

My favorite teaching of Jesus has always been about losing yourself to find yourself.  And now I know that this same teaching is present in many of the great world religions.  The "self" we need to lose is the egoic self -- the self which is so easily fixated on itself.  This is the self that criticizes others spitefully, boasts, is prideful and arrogant, is lustful to fulfill its own desires.  This is the self that is willing to push others' needs away without due consideration or on the other hand that is nice to others while feeling resentment about "having" to act that way.  This is the self that bases so many of its behaviors on unrecognized hurts from the past and wants to protect itself.

The self we are given the opportunity to find is the essence of our very being.  It is our soul, our spirit, the core of our embodied existence which is a manifestation of God on earth.  Once we find that true self in the here and now, we live authentically, we behave with grace rather than out of defensiveness.  When we are centered IN that true self, we no longer need or want to be centered ON the ramparts of our egos.

Pain, Suffering & Really Good Days

When we're being authentic with ourselves we realize that even on our "good" days we are not free from pain and suffering.  What we typically call our "good" days are the days when we successfully ignore or hide our problems from ourselves.  We distract ourselves from our distress, we bury it, we glaze over it, we lie to ourselves.

I'm not saying we shouldn't have fun or enjoy our successes, either large or small; I'm not calling for negative self-talk; neither am I talking about wallowing in pain.  Here's what I mean:

To focus exclusively on what's going "right" is to deny a large part of reality and limit ourselves, just as the opposite is true:  focusing only on what's "wrong" represents denial and self-limitation.  Reality includes our entire experience, and that experience changes from moment to moment. 

Life happens now -- here and now.  Are we in touch with the here and now?  Are we in touch with reality? 

Right now I feel upbeat and at the same time I'm experiencing a little rumbling in my stomach.  That's the reality.  Taking account of the totality of my experience in the moment -- not judging any part of it but simply acknowledging what is there and being curious about it -- actually frees me to understand what might be going on with me in a variety of ways.  It broadens my perspective and lets me get to know myself in this moment more deeply, more fully. 

So I'm upbeat and my stomach is rumbling slightly.  I'm curious.  How is it that these two things co-exist right now?  On gentle inquiry, I realize that I'm upbeat not because things in my outer life have gone particularly well; in fact, two appointments in a row have been cancelled at the last minute, I've received four phone solicitations within the past hour alone for services I don't need, and I just realized that I left home without the library book I wanted to return this afternoon.  I see that I'm upbeat because I've treated myself with respect and fairness today; I've focused on doing what what I needed to do without pressuring myself. leaving me less vulnerable to frustration with outside forces.  Just seeing that adds to my sense of stability and calmness.

And what about the stomach?  Well, I believe the lunch I selected contained an ingredient that doesn't really work for me.  And very quickly I realize that I knew it contained this ingredient before I ate it, while "hoping for the best."  Now I see that false hope and behaving in a self-harmful manner led to this uncomfortable situation, putting my body in the position of needing to reject something.  Thus the rumbling.  So it becomes clear that I wasn't completely respectful and fair to myself today.  I tripped up when it came to feeding myself.  With this realization, devoid of judgment, I feel a growing sense of calmness throughout my being, even though my stomach isn't completely settled, and I notice a rising conviction to treat my body more respectfully, taking account of its actual needs.

That's reality in the here and now.

Pain, Suffering & Really Bad Days

Sometimes you might ask yourself, "Just how many wounds can one person tolerate?!?!?"  There are times when the pain seems unbearable, the suffering seems interminable, and making it through the day seems like an excrutiating task.  Is there any hope?

Hope lies in being with yourself...  really being with yourself.  Hope lies in allowing yourself to be where you are, which means not rejecting your circumstances or your reactions and at the same time not trying to hold onto your circumstances or reactions, but simply allowing them, putting out a welcome mat for them, offering to witness and honor them for what they are and to witness and honor yourself just as you are.

Maybe you're angry about something that has happened.  Maybe you are overcome with sadness about something.  Perhaps it's frustration you feel, or annoyance, or possibly resentment, or another feeling altogether.  So often we tend to shy away from these painful emotions.  We don't want to experience them, so we push them away.  Or we want someone else to see us feeling this way, so we embellish the feeling and act it out.  In either case, we're not examining the feeling itself, and we're not taking full account of where we are right here and now. 

Whatever feeling is there, you can learn to invite it to come out of the shadows and into the light.  You would do this in order to come to know your personal experience in its various dimensions more deeply and more truthfully than ever before.  When we bring our full attention to what is going on with us, we become present to ourselves, and in doing so, we honor that person who is in pain, is having a bad day, or is feeling whatever we're feeling.

Hope is in the presence we allow ourselves to bring to our lives.  Freedom from compulsions lies in that presence as well.  Presence is where real life exists.

Lessons from Understanding Enneatype 9

Peace, the final frontier....  Most of the world wishes for it.  Many of us actively seek it or promote it.  A section of my office wall is decorated with quotations about peace from throughout history and across the continents.  The notion is so wonderfully quiet and restful.

While peace may allow for quiet and restfulness, its origin is not in passivity.  How often do I back away from conflict in the name of peace only to find that the conflict goes on without me and within me... or do I divert an uncomfortable conversation in the name of maintaining harmony only to leave unresolved issues brewing beneath the surface... or do I decide not to express my feelings only to experience others as leaving me out of the equation, creating sadness, frustration, or lowered self-esteem for myself?

A well-known Taoist verse teaches that peace begins inside the individual person:

   If there is to be peace in the world, there must be peace in the nations.
   If there is to be peace in the nations, there must be peace in the cities.
   If there is to be peace in the cities, there must be peace between neighbors.
   If there is to be peace between neighbors, there must be peace in the home.
   If there is to be peace in the home, there must be peace in the heart.

So how do we get to a place of peace in the heart?  Not through passivity, not through avoidance, not through denial of trouble or distancing ourselves from our emotions.  We ultimately find peace by allowing ourselves to experience ourselves ever more deeply without rejecting what is there.  In allowing internally the experience of anger or frustration or hope or fear and inquiring into the reality of its presence... just letting it be so that we can come to see what is beyond it and then allowing that, whatever it may be... and following the thread of acknowledging the significance of the various emotions and sensations which present themselves, then we come to be present to ourselves, and in that deep presence we find peace. 

Peace is not for the faint of heart.  It is there for us when we stand up to ourselves to be counted as wholeheartedly present.

Lessons from Understanding Enneatype 8

In many ways I consider myself a weakling.  I envy others' physical strength and endurance, effective assertiveness, fortitude in hard times, ability to carry on during illness, powerful presence in the face of opposition.  The list goes on.  Sometimes I think, "What I wouldn't do for more strength and personal power!"

When I feel hurt, terrified, territorial, or mistreated, part of me wants to strike out.  In times of accomplishment and success, I notice a desire to gloat and show off.  When something really difficult needs to be done, I wish for pumped-up muscles, nerves of steel, and the bullheadedness of an action hero.  Tough times call for tough people!

But what is the truth?  Is it accurate to say I'm weak, without sufficient capacity, lacking the power to make an indelible mark? 

Actually, there is an essential strength and power of which each of us is made.  It's part of who we are.  When we allow ourselves to become aware of it and we allow it to shine, we are no longer able to look at ourselves as weak and we no longer feel the need to manufacture a mask of power.  We realize that the power inside of us is much more akin to the energy of Moses' burning bush than to a superhero's costume.  It's not a power that retaliates, gloats, or causes us to rev up.  It is a power that abides.

Lessons from Understanding Enneatype 7

Yesterday I met with an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in years.  What a high it was to reconnect, catch up on each other's lives, discover that we have many current interests in common, make plans to visit again in the near future.... 
Such a "high" seems to heighten our sense of aliveness and to bring about a desire to hold onto that feeling.  Somehow reality seems tinged with new colors whenever there is a touch of excitement in the air, when there is anticipation, when things are fun, when the moment seems to hold the promise for development.  And it can make everything that occured beforehand seem ho-hum.

Yet what could possibly be ho-hum about living, about breathing, about being connected to this very moment, no matter who is there to share it, no matter what informs the environment, no matter what might happen in the future?  Life is now; this moment is here; and the only Self I have is here, now.  When I allow myself to experience my own deep presence right here in this moment -- with a friend, without a friend, happy, sad, in the midst of busy-ness or when there is stillness all around -- then I am truly alive.  I am alive inside and throughout my being.

Lessons from Understanding Enneatype 6

Each of us can recall times in life when it felt as though the rug had been pulled out from under us or when the ground beneath our feet felt shaky.  Maybe it happened literally -- on September 11, 2001, or when an earthquake struck, or perhaps when we were in an auto accident.  And certainly it has happened figuratively -- when parents divorced, when a boyfriend or girlfriend broke up with us, when a friend was diagnosed with a serious illness, when we failed a test we felt confident about or didn't get a promotion we expected.  Suddenly the world seemed different and if only for a moment, it seemed as if we had nothing to hold on to.

Times like these require courage, which can come only from inside of us.  A parent, a teacher, a clergyperson, a special friend can seem like a port in the storm, but ultimately we have to be our own parent, our own teacher, our own spiritual guide, our own best friend to move forward.  We have to find our footing inside ourselves in order to stand up and walk, and we have to locate an internal navigation system to know that we've moving in the right direction.

Many things about our world are unpredictable.  Indeed, life itself is unpredictable, no matter how diligently we try to scope out the future.  What's going to occur around us and to our physical bodies will always be largely unknowable in advance and sometimes so even as it's happening.  But one thing can remain steady -- our inner spirit, our Soul.

Lessons from Understanding Enneatype 5

Today I read a blog posting from Andrea Smith, which begins, "We don't have to have all the answers or pretend we know the future, all we need to do is show up wherever we are."  And there in a nutshell is the rich lesson of Enneatype 5. 

So often we say or think or unconsciously believe that specific knowledge is power, that being in the know will sustain us, that to know is to be.  It's a mesmerizing concept, but what it says about us is that we are substituting our storehouse of knowledge for the feeling of being deeply alive and immersed in life.

When we simply allow ourselves to breathe and feel the wonder of life in our torsos, it lightens our load and sometimes even enlightens us.  Knowledge is not a bad thing, but it is not the be-all and end-all.  Knowledge is about life, while breathing and simply being in life are real living. 

There is a deep inner "knowledge" that is not intellectual, not conceptual, not about facts and figures, not available in books, on tv, or on the web.  It is our knowledge of ourselves, an experiential understanding that is really all we need to be who we are and to know who we are.