When I was a little girl, Lent was a serious, somber time. We were expected to "give something up," to make a sacrifice that symbolized our understanding and appreciation of Christ's ultimate sacrifice for us. We had to choose something that we really, really liked so that it would be really, really hard to give it up. That was a critical aspect of the choice: it had to be a painful one. After all, given the unimaginable, unspeakable pain Christ endured on the cross, this was the least we could do. There was a certain nobility to the gesture, but also more than a whiff of martyrdom. We were meant to give ourselves a small taste of suffering.
As I write this I feel almost stunned: how could we have come to believe that self-inflicted suffering is a path to wholeness and healing? I'm reminded of a recent article I read, which reported that the former Pope, John Paul II, routinely beat himself with a belt and, during lent, would sleep without any blankets or padding on a cold, hard floor. These acts of self-mortification were described as instruments of "Christian perfection" (1-26-10 posting on Time website). I cannot find the words to convey my profound sadness that any thinking, loving person could view self-punishment as a means to elevated spiritual consciousness.
And while giving something up for Lent is hardly as dramatic and painful as beating oneself with a belt, its underlying purpose is still rooted in the intention to create and experience suffering. It's entirely possible, of course, that I've misunderstood the true intention behind this practice, and that I'm misrepresenting it now. Yet even if that is so, I don't think I am alone. I have spoken with many people over the years whose experience of Lent was virtually identical to mine, and who struggle with it to this day. And so I wanted to offer a perspective on "giving something up" that I've adopted as I've walked a path of spirituality and expanded consciousness, one that - for me - makes deep, intuitive sense and provides true guidance for living a love-centered life.
Here it is in a nutshell: I think the most important thing we can give up, during the season of Lent and all year long, is judgment. Judgment in its many forms and guises - criticism, blame, cynicism, righteousness, doubt - and judgment directed both inwardly and outwardly. Judgment of ourselves, our leaders, our experiences, our histories. Judgment of our food choices, our friends' boyfriends, our parents, our children, and even that inexplicably confusing movie we just saw. Let's suspend judgment of everything, and see what happens.
Given how conditioned we are to judge everything - how judgment infiltrates virtually every waking moment, often in the guise of suggestions or opinions - this is actually a difficult thing to do. But its difficulty is not meant to cause suffering; paradoxically, it is meant to free us from suffering. Judgment is the original cause of suffering, and so in releasing it we release ourselves from its damning constraints. We free ourselves to see with innocence and trust and an open, loving heart. We begin to perceive the world through a lens of abundance and fresh possibilities. We live and let live.
Thanks to my education at the Barbara Brennan School of Healing, I've been trained to think of things in terms of energy. And from that perspective it's easy to see that the energy of judgment is defeating. That's fairly obvious when we're judging ourselves: it feels bad. As we sit in self-judgment we are deflated and depleted; we are paralyzed into numbness, resignation and inactivity. Even if there is a kernel of truth in our concerns, the painful energy of judgment prevents us from addressing it in a whole and loving way. For example, I may want to reach and sustain a healthy weight. And that may translate into the need to lose a few pounds. But if I judge myself as fat or lazy, the chances of my actually losing the weight are far lower, because self-judgment is a form of self-identity: I see myself as incapable. And that self-image will severely limit my thoughts and choices, virtually guaranteeing that I will prove myself right.
Judging others may initially feel good - righteousness is very seductive, masquerading itself as a feeling of power or competence - but if we're very mindful and honest with ourselves, we discover that judging others really doesn't feel good. Often it leads to feeling isolated, misunderstood, defiant or stuck, as a client of mine recently experienced.
She had been in a fender-bender several weeks ago. A young man - a "punk" in her telling of the story - had pulled out from a gas station without having clear visibility, crossing three lanes of traffic and landing in front of her. She hit the brakes, of course, but the roads were wet and she slid into him anyway. There was virtually no damage to her car, but a moderate amount to his. She was, understandably, upset.
Weeks later, she was sitting with me fuming about it. They had agreed not to call the police at the time, and had simply exchanged contact and insurance information. She now felt resentful that he had contacted her insurance company, and her insurance agent had suggested she call the young man directly and speak with him before deciding whether to file any claims. She didn't want to do that because she knew he would ask her for money, and she didn't want to give him any money because she felt the accident was his fault. She saw him as an irresponsible, money-grubbing punk who had caused great inconvenience to her. (Those were her words, not mine.)
What she didn't see, at least initially, was that her judgment of him as irresponsible and money-grubbing was the cause of her distress. As she held those thoughts of him, her stomach tightened into a knot, her breathing became shallow, and her mind kept swirling in the same pattern - "It's his fault!" She was unable to see a path forward because she was stuck in her story about the past, a story built on judgment. The energy of it was confining, chaotic and confusing.
Together we worked on seeing the experience for what it was, without embellishment - two cars collided on a rainy day. As we stripped away the drama, the fault-finding and the name-calling, she was able to see the simplest truth: it happened. The event happened, and her judgment of all the reasons why it shouldn't have happened was simply keeping her stuck. I could literally see her body relax and her face brighten as she released the judgments and sat with the simplicity of truth. She said she felt tingly and alive - and greatly relieved.
From that place she found a willingness to call him, to find out what he truly wanted and to share her perspective with him. Without viewing him as the enemy, she could see him as the person with whom she had this experience, and with whom she must now negotiate to resolve the question of how to pay for the damage to his car. She could also see the possibility of his filing a claim with his own insurance company, something she hadn't even considered in her reactiveness to his apparent "money grubbing."
The need to take steps and resolve the situation did not change, but in releasing judgment she freed herself to take those steps with a calm and peaceful mind. So when I speak of releasing judgment, I am not speaking of ignoring injustices or becoming a doormat for others to walk on. Yet we do ourselves and others a great service when we remember that it is possible to retain discernment and to make wise, healthy choices without smearing on that extra layer of "wrongness" or "badness." It's the difference between saying, "I see things differently and need to act from my own truth," vs. "I am right and he is wrong (or bad...or a punk!) for seeing things his way."
So I say, let's get out of the judgment business. Let's focus on the simplest of truths in any situation - "Just the facts, Ma'am" - and free ourselves from the icky, sticky energy of finding fault and placing blame. Let's recognize that judgment escalates fear, rebellion, defensiveness and reactiveness - it stimulates the very behaviors that give rise to the experiences we are judging! And we cannot heal the painful consequences of judgment with more judgment. We can only heal our suffering with acceptance, curiosity, understanding, willingness and compassion. And we can only release those qualities in ourselves by giving up our fear-based tendency to judge.
So...let's give it up.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
The Intelligence of Life
Once again all my plans are suspended as the second blizzard in less than a week visits the East Coast. The breathtaking beauty of the all-white landscape is at odds with the messy turmoil of my thoughts - thoughts about lost business, thoughts about wading through thigh-high, wet and very cold snow to get to my heat pumps and shovel them out, thoughts about how to "be productive" during this enforced time-out, thoughts about the treacherous conditions of the city streets for days to come, which means even more lost business...
Deep breath. I reach for my journal - the special one, the one in which I practice writing about my life and myself in the most compassionate, loving way I can. I start with the obvious: on the life pulse of creation - stasis, expansion, stasis, contraction - I am in the contraction phase. Everything is slowing down or stopping, and my job is not to judge or resist that movement, but to allow it, to honor it and harvest its riches. I write in my journal, "This is a time of gathering and consolidating, especially consolidating my energy around the vision I hold for my life rather than letting it dissipate into the ethers of doubt and anxiety. It is a time for quiet focus and for taking small, deliberate steps. It is a time to surrender more fully to my longings."
I glance through my journal and my eyes land on an affirmation I created several days ago: "I allow the intelligence of Life itself to guide my life." I look outside at the falling snow, at the intelligence of Life itself in motion. It is stunning in its richness, clarity and generosity, and I want nothing more than to drink it in with all my senses. I have a sudden impulse to write a poem. And even though I am not a poet, I pick up my pen and write.
Snow Wisdom
The quiet benediction of the snow
settles the anxious hum of my thoughts.
Gentle, inexorable, soft
Inevitable.
A tender dance of stillness and movement
revealing the paradox and perfection of Being:
We are the many and the One.
Be still, the snow says.
And I am still.
Deep breath. I reach for my journal - the special one, the one in which I practice writing about my life and myself in the most compassionate, loving way I can. I start with the obvious: on the life pulse of creation - stasis, expansion, stasis, contraction - I am in the contraction phase. Everything is slowing down or stopping, and my job is not to judge or resist that movement, but to allow it, to honor it and harvest its riches. I write in my journal, "This is a time of gathering and consolidating, especially consolidating my energy around the vision I hold for my life rather than letting it dissipate into the ethers of doubt and anxiety. It is a time for quiet focus and for taking small, deliberate steps. It is a time to surrender more fully to my longings."
I glance through my journal and my eyes land on an affirmation I created several days ago: "I allow the intelligence of Life itself to guide my life." I look outside at the falling snow, at the intelligence of Life itself in motion. It is stunning in its richness, clarity and generosity, and I want nothing more than to drink it in with all my senses. I have a sudden impulse to write a poem. And even though I am not a poet, I pick up my pen and write.
Snow Wisdom
The quiet benediction of the snow
settles the anxious hum of my thoughts.
Gentle, inexorable, soft
Inevitable.
A tender dance of stillness and movement
revealing the paradox and perfection of Being:
We are the many and the One.
Be still, the snow says.
And I am still.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Breaking a Few Rules
I just finished reading a column in the most recent issue of More magazine titled, "How to Afford Your Next Chapter" (February 2010). The article offers several suggestions for financing a career transition in midlife. Its advice is thorough, logical, practical - and deadening. Don't get me wrong - I know the author wrote it thoughtfully and with every intention of offering support to those who want to pursue more satisfying careers. And yet, coming as it does from a certain worldview that elevates so-called "financial security" above virtually everything else, it inadvertently reinforces the very fears and beliefs that hold us hostage in unsatisfactory jobs to begin with.
One element of this commonly held worldview is that a job, or even a career, is primarily something we pursue to make money. Which, at one level, it is. Yet when we remain focused on that level only, we miss the greater truth that our work is really an expression of ourselves, an opportunity to create something of value and to participate in the giving and receiving of the creative process. From that level, we see that money is a flexible medium of exchange that greatly facilitates giving and receiving in diverse and personalized forms. It supports our creativity, but has no value outside its role in the creative process itself.
And this ultimate creative process of creating work we love is not just about finding a less stressful job or experiencing greater satisfaction in our lives - although it certainly offers both of those things - it is a courageous healing path to our truest Self. It is a spiritual journey.
I've come to understand that what we most long to create is what the world most needs from us, yet too often we are told that our longings are impractical; in fear and resignation we take on work that pays the bills but leaves our souls completely unnourished. We think we are being "responsible," but our true responsibility is to the great spirit within us that is bursting with talent and aliveness and a genuine desire to be of service in the world. When we continually ignore that spirit, we are not being true to ourselves. We are compromising our integrity and our ability to live authentic, passionate lives.
The choice to create work we love requires that we revisit all the fears and false beliefs that led us away from out truth in the first place - to challenge our worldview. That is why it is a courageous choice. Facing fear and dismantling limiting beliefs is not easy work! But it is the work we must do in order to live what I call an awake and inspired life. What makes it particularly challenging is that we are inundated on every level and in every moment with the rigid, fear-based rules of our culture that seduced us into ignoring our hearts in the first place.They are very, very convincing, and of course they "work" within a worldview that says we are separate beings competing for scarce resources, that the future is separate from the present, and that money is a separate object that must be pursued, obtained and accumulated.
The true nature of our universe is one of unity and connectedness, aliveness and endless creativity. From quantum physicists to the great spiritual masters, we learn that a divinely intelligent, unified field or matrix gives rise to, and supports, all life in the universe. It is omnipresent, eternal, endless - as are the possibilities for creation that it engenders. We are connected through and by this eternal field of consciousness, and our creativity is limited only by our imagination. Far from being separate beings competing for scarce resources, we are glorious, individuated expressions of a magnificent and abundant whole - and it is our very uniqueness that defines our essential contribution to the whole.
Both science and spiritual traditions tell us that our minds - our intentions, beliefs and thoughts - have fundamental creative power. And so when we believe in separateness and scarcity, that is the world we create. That is the world we have created. Yet when we dare to challenge those beliefs, when we dare to live from the trusting heart instead of from fear, we can change our world.
Which brings me back to the More column. It suggests, among other things, that anyone considering a new career have at least twelve months of living expenses tucked away in a savings account - but "do not even think about robbing your retirement accounts" - and that you have an exit strategy in case of failure. I recognize these are sound recommendations when preserving financial capital is the main goal. But when the intention is to be fully alive, to live your best and truest life and unleash your passion, rules such as this may stand squarely in the way. Preservation of capital arises clearly from a worldview of scarcity; living your passion does not.
Interestingly, in the same magazine five women were profiled who had successfully transitioned into new fields of work they absolutely loved, work that fed their souls and gave meaning to their lives. Almost all of them had broken at least one of the rules. One had raided her retirement account, another had used high-interest credit cards to gain access to funds. The latter was a woman who is now the owner of an award-winning vineyard. She said, "Everyone thought we were nuts. If we'd had a business plan, we never would have bought the property." In other words, if they'd had - and followed - a sensible plan, they would not be growing a thriving business and living their dreams.
I'm not saying that we should break the rules just for the sake of breaking rules - far from it. Often the rules can protect us from diving headlong into something that is not an expression of our truth, or they help us move at a pace that is comfortable and doesn't plunge us into paralyzing fear. But just as often, the rules become rigid prescriptions for how things are supposed to be done, creating fear-encrusted obstacles to following our true path.
Yet breaking the rules is an artful process.The one thing that stands out in the profiles of those women profiled in More, in my own life and in the lives of clients I have coached, is that a choice to break some rules comes not from rebellion, but from a deep-seated inner knowing of "rightness." I refer to this as inner guidance, and I believe it comes directly from that divinely intelligent, unifed field of consciousness I mentioned earlier. This guidance has access to a kind of wisdom that transcends our linear projections and materially-based assumptions. It understands paradox and flow and the interconnectedness of all things, and will guide us to the choices that honor our wholeness - present and future.
I'll be the first to admit that learning to identify, listen to, trust and act on that guidance is challenging; it is a skill that has atrophied in many of us and needs to be cultivated. In the absence of clear inner guidance, following the rules makes all the sense in the world. But when your heart is holding a vision for your life and that still, small voice within is quietly encouraging you to step forward into that vision, don't let our culture's man-made rules stand in the way. Be willing to challenge them. Be willing to turn away from outside experts and listen to the only real expert on how to live the life you came here to live: You.
One element of this commonly held worldview is that a job, or even a career, is primarily something we pursue to make money. Which, at one level, it is. Yet when we remain focused on that level only, we miss the greater truth that our work is really an expression of ourselves, an opportunity to create something of value and to participate in the giving and receiving of the creative process. From that level, we see that money is a flexible medium of exchange that greatly facilitates giving and receiving in diverse and personalized forms. It supports our creativity, but has no value outside its role in the creative process itself.
And this ultimate creative process of creating work we love is not just about finding a less stressful job or experiencing greater satisfaction in our lives - although it certainly offers both of those things - it is a courageous healing path to our truest Self. It is a spiritual journey.
I've come to understand that what we most long to create is what the world most needs from us, yet too often we are told that our longings are impractical; in fear and resignation we take on work that pays the bills but leaves our souls completely unnourished. We think we are being "responsible," but our true responsibility is to the great spirit within us that is bursting with talent and aliveness and a genuine desire to be of service in the world. When we continually ignore that spirit, we are not being true to ourselves. We are compromising our integrity and our ability to live authentic, passionate lives.
The choice to create work we love requires that we revisit all the fears and false beliefs that led us away from out truth in the first place - to challenge our worldview. That is why it is a courageous choice. Facing fear and dismantling limiting beliefs is not easy work! But it is the work we must do in order to live what I call an awake and inspired life. What makes it particularly challenging is that we are inundated on every level and in every moment with the rigid, fear-based rules of our culture that seduced us into ignoring our hearts in the first place.They are very, very convincing, and of course they "work" within a worldview that says we are separate beings competing for scarce resources, that the future is separate from the present, and that money is a separate object that must be pursued, obtained and accumulated.
The true nature of our universe is one of unity and connectedness, aliveness and endless creativity. From quantum physicists to the great spiritual masters, we learn that a divinely intelligent, unified field or matrix gives rise to, and supports, all life in the universe. It is omnipresent, eternal, endless - as are the possibilities for creation that it engenders. We are connected through and by this eternal field of consciousness, and our creativity is limited only by our imagination. Far from being separate beings competing for scarce resources, we are glorious, individuated expressions of a magnificent and abundant whole - and it is our very uniqueness that defines our essential contribution to the whole.
Both science and spiritual traditions tell us that our minds - our intentions, beliefs and thoughts - have fundamental creative power. And so when we believe in separateness and scarcity, that is the world we create. That is the world we have created. Yet when we dare to challenge those beliefs, when we dare to live from the trusting heart instead of from fear, we can change our world.
Which brings me back to the More column. It suggests, among other things, that anyone considering a new career have at least twelve months of living expenses tucked away in a savings account - but "do not even think about robbing your retirement accounts" - and that you have an exit strategy in case of failure. I recognize these are sound recommendations when preserving financial capital is the main goal. But when the intention is to be fully alive, to live your best and truest life and unleash your passion, rules such as this may stand squarely in the way. Preservation of capital arises clearly from a worldview of scarcity; living your passion does not.
Interestingly, in the same magazine five women were profiled who had successfully transitioned into new fields of work they absolutely loved, work that fed their souls and gave meaning to their lives. Almost all of them had broken at least one of the rules. One had raided her retirement account, another had used high-interest credit cards to gain access to funds. The latter was a woman who is now the owner of an award-winning vineyard. She said, "Everyone thought we were nuts. If we'd had a business plan, we never would have bought the property." In other words, if they'd had - and followed - a sensible plan, they would not be growing a thriving business and living their dreams.
I'm not saying that we should break the rules just for the sake of breaking rules - far from it. Often the rules can protect us from diving headlong into something that is not an expression of our truth, or they help us move at a pace that is comfortable and doesn't plunge us into paralyzing fear. But just as often, the rules become rigid prescriptions for how things are supposed to be done, creating fear-encrusted obstacles to following our true path.
Yet breaking the rules is an artful process.The one thing that stands out in the profiles of those women profiled in More, in my own life and in the lives of clients I have coached, is that a choice to break some rules comes not from rebellion, but from a deep-seated inner knowing of "rightness." I refer to this as inner guidance, and I believe it comes directly from that divinely intelligent, unifed field of consciousness I mentioned earlier. This guidance has access to a kind of wisdom that transcends our linear projections and materially-based assumptions. It understands paradox and flow and the interconnectedness of all things, and will guide us to the choices that honor our wholeness - present and future.
I'll be the first to admit that learning to identify, listen to, trust and act on that guidance is challenging; it is a skill that has atrophied in many of us and needs to be cultivated. In the absence of clear inner guidance, following the rules makes all the sense in the world. But when your heart is holding a vision for your life and that still, small voice within is quietly encouraging you to step forward into that vision, don't let our culture's man-made rules stand in the way. Be willing to challenge them. Be willing to turn away from outside experts and listen to the only real expert on how to live the life you came here to live: You.
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