A Renewal of spirit

Light Heart: 2011

This past month I did something I've never done before: I reached out to my community for financial support. I hadn't intended to, but an opportunity arose that I felt compelled to act on. It was one of those opportunities that may only arise once in a lifetime. Rather than risk missing it, I chose - not just to step out of my comfort zone but to step into my vision of community - and ask for help.

To understand how difficult this was for me, I'll share that not too many years ago I nearly killed myself during an illness because I "did not want to bother anyone." I was too dizzy and weak to do anything but crawl on my hands and knees to get to the toilet, and food was out of the question. My head felt as though it might burst with pain and pressure. I was severely dehydrated.

When help showed up at my house one late night out of worry and fear for my welfare a week later, I was so out of my head with fever and illness that I got startled; and out of my fear, I got angry and yelled at them to leave. They did, but came back the next day and took me to a doctor.

After weeks of tests, no one could identify what was wrong with me. Two rounds of antibiotics later, I began to improve so they let me stay home rather than sending me to a hospital. My Mom came to stay with me to help with my recovery, after my sister called and told her that something was wrong because I wasn't making any sense on the phone. It was a very humbling experience and one that I learned a great deal from.

Months later as I returned to myself, I realized how traumatic that experience felt to me; I'd just been too out of my head to notice it. If my friends had not stopped by, I might have died right there in my own home, for no good reason other than my own internal obstacles. I promised myself I would not do anything like that again to myself, and that I would heal whatever it was in me that kept me from asking for help even in such desperate circumstances. 

Humble Woman: Paris 2004

And so, here is the result of that healing journey. This month I stepped beyond old stories and wounding, beyond embarrassment and shame, beyond fear and excuses, choosing instead to step into a vision of community that I hold - one that is supportive, loving, intimate and authentic - in which we are all held as family. And it's been absolutely beautiful.

Not only has my community shown up to offer financial support, but they have done so with complete joy and gratitude in their hearts. They hold the vision for my expansion just as brightly as I do. They honor my journey just as deeply as I do. They are as happy as I am about this opportunity. The blessings of joy and fullness on this adventure continue to show up in my email and snail mail boxes. And every one of them is sent with pure love and a "Thank you!" to me for the opportunity to help...

My heart is bursting!! This is the kind of community I want to live in. This is the vision of community that I hold. And through this simple, heartfelt request, I've gotten to feel it and watch it in action. And it is SO humbling and wonderful. It has renewed my spirit in the community of Humankind.

And my friends, this is what it's all about: boundary-free, heart-felt love, love love just because you can...

PS: The request was for blessings and/or financial help for Kundalini Yoga Teacher Training so I can take advantage of a scholarship I was awarded and get officially certified. I think after 12 years of practicing and 4 years of teaching, it's time :) With all the loving support from my community, the rather large investment fairly quickly went from impossible to affordable. Thank You Community from the bottom of my heart!

An Angel Walks Among Us

I woke up yesterday morning with death on my mind. In my spiritual circle Thursday night, we talked about an upcoming shamanic death ritual we are doing today. I will die... again. I think this will be my 6th or 7th time to die a ritual death. Some of these rituals have lasted a few hours, others a day, and others a year. In fact, the seed of this blog was born out of a year-long "Death Walk" I participated in from November 2009 to November 2010. This year, I am facilitating a year-long journey for others (my Awaken Circle) because the experience had such a profound impact on me.

We've all heard sayings such as "Death walks beside you" and "Death is always standing behind your left shoulder" or "Death is just over your shoulder" and  "Death is always knocking on your door." Have you  ever paused to really feel into what that means? Most of us, because of our social training to fear or resist death, don't give death much attention. But there's a tremendous opportunity here...

In many ancient spiritual teachings, death is held as an important adviser. In the Toltec tradition of the Eagle Knight lineage, we refer to it as The Angel of Death yet s/he goes by many names across cultures (e.g., Kali, Ganesha, Hunhau, Uacmitun Ahau, Kisin, Mictlantecuhtli, Hades, Hecate, Pluto, Hel, Ereshkigal, Cerridwen, Arawn, Skatha, Yen-Wang-Yeh, Ani-lbo, Anubis). You can find mythological or spiritual references to the keeper or guardian of death or the Underworld in just about every culture in the world.

My view of the Angel of Death is that she greets us with the gift of freedom from whatever binds our hearts. She bears the completion of one cycle and yet the beginning of something new. Without this completion, we would remain buried beneath the weight of our own hearts; we would never have the spaciousness to invite healing, change or growth into our lives.

The Angel of Death walks with clear steps and a keen eye. As She approaches, things change. She sees the obstacles to the blossoming of unconditional love in our hearts and does what's necessary to remove them. The gift of Her touch brings acute presence: suddenly nothing matters but the truth. She wields destruction for the sake of construction. It may mean a physical death yet it may also mean a symbolic death.

There's something healing and opening that emerges through the eyes of death. If you've ever sat with the dying, you know that the only thing of importance to them is the clarity of their own heart. I've heard stories about people blurting out their heaviest heart-burdens in the moments of their last breath, revealing family secrets that had been hidden for generations.

This is the gift of the Angel of Death; she offers the soul an invitation to surrender it's burdens and open into the wellspring of freedom born of a clear and unobstructed heart. From this view, nothing matters in life or death except that truth - the truth of a heart broken open. And in the spaciousness of such a heart, only love exists.

For all the human struggles I participate in, for all my searching and clearing and healing around love, there is always more deepening and opening to do. As I approach another opportunity to surrender what obstructs my heart - to hand it willingly over to the Angel of Death so that I can open more deeply into love - I find myself feeling calm and at peace inside. And so I prepare for yet another death of who I am to something new and (hopefully) more purely aligned with my spiritual intentions.

"Today is a good day to die for all the things of my life are present." I've written of this Native American saying before.  This is the state I want to be in when I die, when my body takes its last gasp of air and then releases it with a sigh of surrender. And in that sigh I want to feel the full freedom that comes with a completely clear and open heart, one without obscurations in which everything - all the baggage of my life - has been cleaned up and brought into a present state of love.

Sunrise at Rockport, TX.
Photo copyright 2006: Cecilia Zuniga

So today I do my best to attend to and clean up any areas of heaviness in my life. I heal what needs to be healed, speak what needs to be spoken, request what needs to be requested and I forgive what needs to be forgiven. I choose love and connection over being right and separate. It's not an easy way to live; it takes all the courage and willingness I can muster. It means risking relationships and identities and habits. It means letting go of the old and familiar for the new and unfamiliar. It means taking a radically honest look at myself and claiming responsibility for who I've been, who I am and who I want to become. Sometimes I'm not ready to stand in the blurry and oftentimes painful and muddy lines of personal truth, to risk what I know for the unknown. Yet it is as authentic a life as I can manage right now.

Some days, such as during the past two weeks, I question what's happening. When another layer of mud surfaces from the depths of my being for healing and clearing, I question my integrity. Questioning is a natural part of this journey. It helps me discern what is mine to clean up and what is someone else's. Yet it must be done with radical honesty and heart-centered action. Otherwise, it serves little. This process of questioning helps me return to a clear sense of my own integrity so that I can clean up what needs cleaning, take responsibility for what is mine, and honor my truth in the moment, despite the feelings or reactions of others.

Through this process I've learned that what is true for me requires no defense or explanation; it is simply my truth, whether others understand it or agree with it or not. Expressing my truth does not require understanding or agreement from others or that they change their behavior based on how I experience a situation. And this is true for them as well: I don't have to understand or agree with their views or change my behavior to acknowledge what feels true for them. The best I can do for each of us is listen deeply, honor the feelings that arise, keep my heart open, allow spaciousness for what's next and keep love present through any disagreements.

Limestone heart.
Photo copyright 2007: Cecilia Zuniga

I've learned over the past several years of exploring dying and death more intimately that there is a pre-death process that supports me in preparing for the transition from old to new: whatever obstacles are currently blocking the open flow of love in my heart will be flung into my full vision! Something always happens to enable me to see clearly where my own blocks to love are and where the next step in my healing work rests so that I can go about the business of doing it.

At the time of my own point of rememberance - that moment in death when I suddenly reconnect with my true, pure nature beyond the physical limitations of this body - I want to melt easily and gently into freedom. And so tonight I die knowing that I've done my best to keep learning about and opening to love in all of its expressions; knowing that I am, step by step, killing off love's obstacles and gently growing a deeply faithful, trusting and open heart.

As Stephen Levine so beautifully reflects in his book A Year To Live, I consciously cultivate a heart that cannot be distracted even by death. This is my chosen mission this year as I make my way through Adventures Of A Year To Love.

A Pain-Filled Lesson

It's been an interesting couple of days following an injury on Saturday. I'm deepening into the spiritual teachings I've been practicing for a few years now around opening to pain, particularly those of Stephen Levine: "...resistance turns pain into suffering; soften and explore the constant state of change within the sensations; watch the unfolding of sensation as a process; when we begin to respond to discomfort instead of reacting to it, an enormous change occurs. We begin to experience it not as just 'our' pain but as 'the' pain. And it becomes accessible to a level of compassion perhaps previously unknown; (and we begin to experience) the personal in its universal aspect."

The practice I'm focused on now through the Awaken series on conscious living is to reprogram the body's response to pain, including and especially the reaction of the mind to pain. Most of us grow up learning to avoid pain. It starts very young when we hurt ourselves. If you watch small children fall on a playground, they generally show a short-lived reaction to pain until or unless the adults around them react. Then it becomes a big drama! But if they are not critically hurt and the adults either don't notice or respond calmly, kids express their pain with some startled sounds and then get up within seconds and keep playing.

Usually what happens in our growing up years is we get message after message from adults to avoid pain, that pain means something is wrong, and that pain is something to be scared about. These adults are well-intended; it's their job to care for and protect us. They are responsible for our welfare and survival. Yet what we carry into adulthood from these experiences is a belief that pain is bad.

Believing that pain is bad as adults, we avoid and resist pain, which means we close our energy body around it. But what if we could stay open through pain? What if we could simply experience it as fully as we allow ourselves to experience other sensations in life? What if pain was not something bad to be avoided, but just an intense sensation instead? How might that change our experiences of it?

That is my practice. It's a practice in moving beyond the mind to open the energy body no matter what the sensations. In the realm of dying and death (as we are exploring in the Awaken series), it is a way to reprogram the body and mind to respond openly to pain rather than closing around it, so that as we die we can experience peace no matter what. When we master this,  a level of separation develops between us and 'the pain' that offers spaciousness to find joy and peace despite the sensations that may be running through the body. Since none of us know what our dying or death experiences will be, this is a great practice to master! Ultimately, it allows us to create and hold a container of bliss through the transitions of the body.

I got to practice this yesterday. I can describe how much pain I was in by saying it was tremendous! I (carefully) taught two yoga classes and interacted with people all day who had little idea what my body was experiencing (though the shiner around my left eye gave them an indication that something was different). My goal was to open my energy body so large that the pain would simply be a tiny part of my day's experiences, and to create enough space around the pain that I could bring in and hold joy.

I succeeded, mostly. I was aware of my pain yet not ruled by it; I acknowledged it instead of resisting or ignoring it; and I consciously opened beyond it to bring in joy. The pain was there and so was everything else; it didn't dominate my experiences. I shed some tears last night over the pain that felt linked to old body memory and energy that was ready to be released; it felt good to release it. In the end, I experienced a day filled with healing, joy and love instead of just pain.

Today I remember what it feels like to be in chronic pain. I remember experiencing chronic pain for two years following a serious car wreck in my thirties. Back then, I fell into a deep depression. Pain was the focus of my life as I took steps to find healing for my body. Although not the most pleasant part of my history, the experience led to a dramatic life change that I consider an awakening for me. 

Today, my body aches from my neck down to my hips and I still have a pretty nice shiner beneath my left eye. I know what to do for my body when it's healing, so I'm doing those things. And yet I notice myself leaning into the comfort of knowing that this pain is temporary. I wonder: "How might this experience be different for me if this were not a temporary condition?" I cannot answer that question, yet I do contemplate it.

Sometimes accepting what is gives us the opportunity to experience it without any temporal boundaries, since we can't know when or how what is in the present moment will change. But things in the present moment are always changing; that's the nature of energy and everything here is rooted in energy. I find comfort in that. When I attune myself to the subtleties of the pain in my body today, I notice the shifting sensations. The pain is not a static experience; it is a dynamic one in my body. As I deepen into that awareness, my body relaxes and opens, my breath softens and slows, and I find spaciousness within my being to expand around the pain and beyond it.

I could choose to view this experience as nothing more than a painful, unfortunate accident. My choice instead is to view it as a brilliant opportunity to reprogram my body and mind's experience of and response to pain. It is an opportunity to move toward mastery of opening big enough that I can find the spaciousness within my being to experience inner peace and joy no matter what... even tremendous pain and (ultimately) in the face of whatever my own dying and death may bring. Tonight I teach two classes, and I will teach them filled with joy, love and pain.

Every experience we have in life is an opportunity to grow and open. Today I am reminded of what a gift that is and my heart is full and happy despite the pain. I think that is pretty amazing...

The Garden of Life

 I've always wanted to be a gardener, mostly because I love the beauty and energy of the plants with their varied colors, shapes, textures and vibrations. On a deeper level, I realize it's because I like nourishing things into creation. Whether it's a pastry, a book or a plant doesn't matter. There's something fulfilling about starting with a few separate ingredients and mixing them together into a whole new thing that has its own purpose, design, flavor and energy. There's something magical about the alchemy of this mixing process and how it generates a new expression of being that wasn't there in the separate ingredients.

I've never had a garden of my own before. When I was a child, my parents grew strawberries, bell and chili peppers, green beans and tomatoes in a small flower bed but I've never had a whole space dedicated to a garden. It feels good to have one now, with fencing high enough to keep the local deer out. Yesterday I planted some onions, potatoes and a tomato plant in my garden. It may not look like much, but it is fabulous to me!

Each step of the way toward creating this garden has been exciting: from getting the fencing up, to gathering the dirt, to starting a compost pile, to creating a dedicated compost pile, to building the beds, to adding the worms, to mixing in fortified soil to our dirt... and finally to planting a few things.

I don't really know how to garden. I only know that I love playing in the dirt and nourishing things into bloom and fullness. I love seeing a bud grow and open into a beautiful flower. I love seeing a tiny sprout evolve into a vibrant plant. I love watching a blossom turn into a piece of fruit. I love lifting a plant from the soil and finding food down there. It's like magic!

Gardens are great metaphors for life. We nourish what we want to grow; we give it our attention and our love. Sometimes things happen and we watch what we've given our nourishment, attention and love to die before it reaches its full expression. We can't stop it or change it; it just dies. And sometimes we get to witness the full movement of what we nourish all the way to it's complete expression, it's last breath, and then it dies.

Either way - whether a thing is here only a moment or a lifetime - we get to experience its unique beauty and expression. It is sacred life force energy moving through space and time in a way we can't control. But we can give it our nourishment, attention and love if we choose to. And we can open to the full experience of it - whatever it is - if we choose to.

This year, I want to; I choose to. Each day offers me another opportunity to build and create the garden of my life.  

What will it be? What will I plant? How big and full will it get? What will die young and what will reach its complete expression? What will I nourish, give my attention to, and share my love with? What will I notice and what will I miss? How will I honor this garden of my life?

"Can I love all that is in my life ~ all that comes and goes ~ wholly and unconditionally, just like the plants in my garden?"

GNH: Yes!

There's a small country in southern Asia named Bhutan. Recently, the 50-something-year old leader "passed the leadership torch" to his 26-year old son, Jigme Singye Wangchuck. The son is well educated and brings a fresh perspective to the politics of Bhutan. His desire is for Bhutan to be a notable player in world politics without compromising it's culture. In his view, this means strengthening Bhutan economically and keeping up with technological advancements without sacrificing the country's heritage.

In his wisdom, Jigme Singye Wangchuck did something brilliant: he borrowed the USA's concept of Gross National Product as a leading principle for Bhutan by changing it into Gross National Happiness. He defines Gross National Happiness as "inner contentment for all people living in Bhutan" and offers four pillars of what it means:

1. Good Governance
2. Balanced Economic Development (high standard of living for all, free education, etc...)
3. Environmental Preservation and Sustainability
4. Preserving and Promoting Culture (maintaining a national identity that distinguishes them from other countries)

Wangchuck says things like:

"Imagery leads to thoughts, thoughts lead to actions and actions create our world" (referring to imagery from the USA on televisions and the internet, which were only recently allowed into Bhutan) and

"Human progress does not equal economic growth" and  

"Happiness does not come from 'more'" and  

"Economic growth at any cost is not acceptable."


He believes that happiness is achieved by taking the middle path, balancing the needs of man with the powerful spirits of nature.

So, he is allowing technological advancements in Bhutan, yet in balance with their cultural traditions which are founded in Tantric Buddhism and the principles of peace, an end to suffering, wisdom and joy. Both pieces - technological/economic expansion and traditional cultural ideals are promoted and maintained; growth with integrity and balance; authentic happiness... Sounds like a great way to live from a place of love to me...

I might have to live there...