A Bucket Full of Hope

I spent the last weekend volunteering at a local hospice event for adults who had lost a beloved - a parent, a spouse, a child or grandchild, a sibling... This was the parent camp. Some of their children were at a nearby location having the kids camp. Two camps, one common purpose, and lots and lots of healing.

What touched me most deeply was watching the transformation of these adults from closed, sad, pained strangers to open, laughing, relaxed friends who were willing to give life another chance. Yes, they had all experienced heart-breaking loss in their lives, yet here they were - courageously allowing themselves to share, connect and grieve together - some of them for the first time.

My role was to help them settle in and put their bags down (yes, they stayed the night in bunk rooms), to offer support to anyone who wanted it, to hold space for them as they moved through their activities, and to share with them during the meetings.

There are so many unanswered questions to this journey, and so many unresolved feelings that arise for those walking it. The hardest parts were the "What if..." and "If I had only..." and "If I just hadn't...." things that arose. Such regrets create deep pain in the Human heart, and yet, we can never know how or when death will happen; we only know that for all of us, it will.

I watched these beautiful parents reach out to each other in understanding and compassion. I saw them openly witness each others anguish. I cried as they held each other through their distress. And I laughed as they hugged each other goodbye with gratitude and love.

There are no words for what I felt when I left them on Sunday. I believe that this was one of the most touching life experiences I've ever had. I can't wait for next year's camp!

[My deepest gratitude to Hope Hospice, a non-profit organization based in New Braunfels, TX, for the opportunity to be a part of such a beautiful and loving experience: 1-800-499-7501. For more information and support through loss and grief, contact your local hospice services, or check out my "Ask Dr. Z" article series on how to support yourself and children through a death by clicking here.]

You Can't Cheat Death

Maia's ashes.

When death visits, her touch is swift, unquestionable, unyielding and unavoidable. Even if there's a process to go through before we take our final breaths, there is no escaping the power of death's ultimate touch. One touch - however gentle, however harsh - and death happens...

The body goes cold and lifeless when its soul leaves. Stephen Levine describes death as "the shaking loose of the body." It's the mysterious soul that animates the body, gives it life and vibrancy. Without the soul, the body is as an empty vase from which all the flowers have been plucked and the water poured out.

But it's not necessarily death itself that is unsettling or even disturbing. It's all the fallout that comes after death. And I'm clear that aside from my emotional state of grief around losing my beloved companion Maia, my mind is the instigator of any suffering over it that I'm experiencing.

I hit the wall of anger yesterday. After feeling fairly numb for two weeks, yesterday I got mad. I awoke from an early morning dream about Maia. She'd been resurrected from death by a dear friend who brought her to me with joy in his heart. Maia came trotting over to me, bright-eyed and tail-wagging.

I was stunned! I squatted down to hug and love on her, happy to feel her touch again yet deeply aware that something was wrong: This is wrong; she's not supposed to be here. I'll have to go through all of this again; I don't want to go through this again! There was an interesting mix of emotions at her return: I was so happy to see her yet so confused by it too; it wasn't meant to be and some part of me knew that.

In the dream, it was moments before Maia coughed a couple of times (just as she'd done in this reality), took her few last breaths and died...again. You can't cheat death.

Now I have to do this all over again! The thought of restarting my grief was annoying and made me mad. The anger I felt was not at my dear friend for resurrecting my beloved dog; it was at myself for all the things I felt guilty for in relation to my dog: for forgetting to salt her food that morning; for thinking I should wait a few hours to give her a treat with salt on it instead of giving it to her immediately; for banning her from my home office space as I worked all day; for the way she laid herself against the outside of my office door, waiting sweetly, silently, patiently for me to come out; for not doing more research on her condition and how we were handling it; for not letting her eat whatever she wanted; for being gone with busyness so much of the time and leaving her behind at home... These things tear at my heart now.

And I know I cannot change them. To suffer over them is pointless, really, in the biggest sense of things. And yet I suffer; I'm not yet able to hold all of my human experiences within the biggest container possible. I'm allowing myself that; it's part of my growing and grieving process - the untangling of all my human emotions around our relationship and her death: Could I have done more? Should I have done more? Why didn't I (fill in the blank)? I wish I hadn't (fill in the blank)... 

If I could rewind our time together, what would I do differently? I ask myself this question over and over again, and yet the answer is always the same: Nothing. It wouldn't matter; you can't cheat death.

If I could bring my beloved back, would I? I ask myself this question, too, and the answer is always the same: No, I wouldn't; you can't cheat death.

At some point in our relationships, we say goodbye. This is inevitable. Death touches all things ultimately. Bringing back the dead doesn't change death; it just delays it. You can't cheat death. Death happens how and when it happens because it does. We can't change it, avoid it or control it. We can't even really completely understand it but we don't have to. All we need to know is that death happens.

And as we hold this reality close in our hearts, life deepens into something more precious than anything else. Love takes the lead. We open... and in our opening, death becomes our ally rather than our enemy. How? How is death our ally? Death (of something) is the only way to clear space for what's next. Without death, our lives and our Beings would be bursting open with old stuff that is no longer serving us to the fullest. And that's what I believe we all grow toward: our fullest be-ing. This is the greatest expression of the divine moving through us that we can offer: our fullest be-ing, which to me means living from a deep sense of love...

Death brings the ultimate transformation. Ultimately, it is the gateway to return to pure essence. Not every single death we experience (death of people, pets, ideas, dreams, thoughts, etc.) offers a return to our pure essence; I believe this is reserved for our physical death. But every death offers us the opportunity to take a tiny step toward connecting even more deeply with our pure essence... the vibration of Love.

We can fear death, hate death or love death but ultimately, we have death. Can I embrace even death with love in my heart? I'm still learning that yes I can, but I must honor my humanity and allow myself to grieve the letting go of my beloveds, too. It's a fine balance between being Human and being an expression of the Divine. By honoring my very human feelings - my grief - I clear the way for love to re-enter my wounded heart and refill it with light. The other option is to close, which doesn't appeal to me. In opening, I step even closer to what I believe is all of our divine essence - that of pure love.

So I grieve, and heal, and grow, and open in the face of death, which is ultimately all about love...

The Heart of the Matter

Warm Heart 2008

Our hearts are so strong and yet so fragile around love.

We can open or close them. We can expose or protect them. We can risk or guard them. Yet most often we forget about them until something happens that either cracks them open or slams them closed. What is it about the heart that is so significant? So magnificent?

The heart is our gateway to our essence - the part of us that is boundless, infinite and unafraid. Through opening the heart fully we find completeness - a sense of purity, wholeness and unity with something much greater than our mentally-constructed selves. Beyond the realm of our projections, beyond the realm of our minds we find... mystery.

I call it "mystery" because we can't define it with our minds. It's a spaciousness that defies what the mind can grasp. It's not based in the past or the future. It rests in the expansiveness of the present moment which is infinite. It is only our minds that define the present moment as "finite time" in a limiting way when beyond our mental projections, there is no time, only presence.

Beyond the mind we find freedom. In the Toltec tradition, they describe the antics of our mind as "dreaming," or a mental projection, a concept or interpretation of our experiences that is not the experiences themselves. Thinking about our experiences is not the same as having them; thinking about them is a reflection of the experience, not the experience itself. Yet all too often we believe that our thoughts about our experiences are the truth when actually, they are only mental reflections of the truth.

Distortion & Reflection 1: Chicago 2008

This is what leads us to an over-identification with our minds. We believe that what the mind tells us is the truth, yet we forget that it is merely a reflection of the truth, which leaves room for personal projection and distortion. When we believe our minds, our thoughts, projections and distortions stimulate all kinds of drama and suffering in our lives, especially around matters of the heart.

Consider that having an emotion is a movement of energy through the body. The mind will enter and label the energy as something specific (e.g., pain, fear, sadness, anger, rage, joy...) and then judge whether the experience is OK or not - safe or not. When we attach labels of the mind to our experiences, we are left with stories about what's happening to us and at the deepest places within our being, our mind is assessing whether or not it's a threat to our survival so it can dictate what action to take next: fight, flight or freeze. It is also signaling the body to prepare for that action: our hormones, muscles, adrenalin, breath, etc. immediately respond to the signals of the mind.

Distortion & Reflection: Chicago 2008

The tricky part is that our physical bodies are geared to respond to the mind's signals, whether or not the mind's signals are accurate, relevant or true in the present moment. Remember that the mind is never operating in the present moment. It pulls up information from the past or projects information into the future based on the past, but it is never directly engaged with our present moment experiences.

Why? Because the mind does not directly experience anything. It gets information second-hand through our sensory and energy bodies and then interprets that information based on past experiences or future projections; but it does not directly experience anything. The mind's job is to interpret or reflect to the rest of the body what it believes is happening based on input from our sensory and energy bodies - what we see, hear, smell, taste, touch and perceive (energetically). The mind says "I recognize this sensation; it means blahblahblah and this is what we need to do next!"

Here's the problem: What the mind believes (based on history) may not apply in the present moment or the future, so it's signals limit our ability to act from the infinite field of possibilities that are available to us in each moment. This is important! By freeing ourselves from over-identifying with and believing in our mind's projections and stories about what it thinks is happening or going to happen, we open ourselves to the infinite and can move beyond old obstacles in our lives.

Over-identifying with the mind and turning our experiences into concepts and stories puts limitations on the vastness of what we truly are: the pure essence of mass, energy and consciousness. Many traditional spiritual practices are designed to create spaciousness between our mind and our pure essence so that we can become more of a witness to our mind's games rather than be driven by them. Meditative practices are a beautiful way to begin shifting away from over-identification with the mind and to build a trusting relationship with our pure essence.

Pathway to Mystery: Paris 2004

Connecting with and trusting in our pure essence is a pathway through the heart rather than the mind. When we build a stronger relationship with our pure essence, our hearts open and take rest into something much greater than what our minds can comprehend - something boundless, infinite and beyond the mind's reflections - the mystery of Being.

This is what makes our hearts both strong and fragile: in opening them to the mystery, we may feel vulnerable yet through this act we become stronger in our connection to our pure, infinite essence. It takes strength and courage to allow our hearts to open beyond the limitations and fears of the mind. And yet through that strength and courage - through opening ourselves to the mystery - we may experience what I can only describe as "pure love" (which is only a limited description and reflection of what is really an indescribable experience of what I feel to be pure love)...

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.

Heart Matters

For the past few weeks there's been a drama happening in a dear family I know. One of the women discovered that her husband had "cheated" on her. First I will say that when someone leaves "evidence" in a vulnerable place, maybe it's true that some part of them wanted it to be found, perhaps to end the sneaking, guilt, fear and discomfort that goes with being out of your own integrity and living a lie every day. Perhaps as a catalyst for something to change that was well past its time. Perhaps as a chicken's way out of admittance. Who can really say, but somehow, some way, these types of secrets always surface.

Once when I was going through a similar situation of feeling deeply betrayed by a partner, someone said to me "Well, isn't it better to know the truth?" My answer was "Yes" although I would have preferred that the truth had always been exposed rather than it slipping through a crack in the foundation to knock me off my feet after months of what felt like secrecy and lies by omission. When you have a heart agreement with someone, to find out that they disregarded it is deeply wounding. Everything you might initially feel toward them winds up being used against yourself: the disappointment, loathing, doubt, judgement, anger, hurt, blame, etc. It's a tangled up emotional mess.

As the story of this particular situation continues to unfold, more and more drama arises. Details are being uncovered that shine a bright light on the lies that have been told; emotions are blazing; gossip is stirring... This beautiful family has been flung head-first into an ocean of confusion, anger, hurt and fear. They are all in what I call high reaction.

There's a question of whether a lie detector test should be used on the husband. "Really? Why?" I asked. Their answer: Because she wants to know how many other lies there have been.

Huh. I had a lot of questions about this choice. What difference would a lie detector test make (especially with all the false readings they give)? She already knows he is capable of lying (we all are) and that he has lied to her on several occasions now. What will the lie detector test add? Does she want an exact count of the number of times he's lied? Does she want to know how recently he lied? Does she want to know just how big of a liar he is? Does she want to know just how false her idea of their marriage is? Does she want to be right? Is she looking for some kind of validation or justification?

But my biggest question is: Should we really trust the technology of a lie detector test above the truth of a human heart?


To me, the only question to ask now is "How willing is she to risk trusting him again?" Maybe that's what she's trying to decide based on just how big of a liar she finds him to be...

Then the conversation turned to the concept of love. The husband says he still loves his wife and that the "other" doesn't mean anything. Really? Then why did he do it (and more than once)? Why did he lie about it? Why didn't he speak to his wife about their marriage before things reached the point of betrayal? None of us can really answer these questions with any certainty. While it may be true that the human heart is a dynamic and mysterious part of our Being whose trappings we can't always predict, things like honesty, openness and integrity are things we choose. As it is possible to be swept up in the emotion or energy of a moment, isn't it just as possible not to be?

How much choice do we really have in love? And is love nothing more than what we make it?

Good Dancin' & Glowing Wrist Bands

This past Saturday my Sweetie and I went out dancing with a group of friends. When we walked through the door of this particular bar, they passed out glowing wrist bands but we didn't get one. They were for singles only. I thought that was an interesting concept - to glowingly identify all the "singles."

Why would they do that? I wondered what the incentive was for this: So singles could find each other more easily? So there wouldn't be any question about availability? So no one would tread where they best not? To avoid any fights or bar brawls? To make girl/boy friend shopping easier?

And I wondered: What ever happened to dialogue and getting to know someone? What's wrong with talking to a married or coupled person? What's wrong with flirting with them? Dancing with them? Enjoying them? Is this not allowed? Did the glowing wrist bands signal "I'm open for business" or "Hands off?"

As I watched my friends dance with each other and strangers in the bar, I got this weird sense of isolation. Was it true that people avoided me because I wasn't wearing a glowing wrist band? I tried to see the wrists of all the gliding two-steppers on the dance floor but it was hard to catch a glimpse as they passed. And there was my Sweetie - wrist-bandless and taking turns dancing with everyone. I have to admit that for just a second, I felt the green-eyed monster that night, but it wasn't about my Sweetie having so much fun; it was about me feeling a little bit left out. I'm still recovering from an injury in March and I wasn't feeling all that great so was taking things slow. Not so for everyone else; they were beer-drinkin', two-steppin' fools!

It's a good thing to shake up your comfort zone once in a while. I got to see my Sweetie as a well-sought-after commodity that night - a fabulous dancer and partner that other people would snatch up in a split second if the opportunity was there. I deepened into my appreciation, gratitude and love for the trust and partnership we share as I watched all the energy swirling around that bar and dance floor to the beat of an old country song.

About halfway through the night I heard one of our friends say "We need to find me a girlfriend." And immediately everyone's eyes began to scan the room for the perfect girl. As I sat on my bar stool sipping a Boilermaker, the rest of our crowd were pointing and discussing the different women they spotted wearing glowing wrist bands: "No, not her; how 'bout HER?" Was it really that simple? Are girlfriends nothing more than good dancing or a glowing wrist band?

   

Later that night I considered what those glowing wrist bands really meant: nothing. It comes down to people's own integrity. If you want to sleep with a single and they want to sleep with you, it's gonna happen whether they are wearing a glowing wrist band or not. Being in a couple isn't a guarantee; it's an agreement, and that agreement is only as good as the two people who make it.

Today I am deeply grateful that the person I've made that agreement with is a person of integrity that I can rest into.

Surprise!!

Today I woke up early to see my sweetie off to a Saturday gig... I mean, early: 5 a.m.! That might not seem early to you, but it's early to my body, which is generally not ready to be up until there is a hint of sunrise outside.

Sometimes when I arise that early, I feel cranky and not quite awake. But today, I woke up feeling happy and full.  I saw my sweetie off and went back to bed to meditate and dream. I love dreaming just before sunrise because the content is rich and creative for me.

Maybe two hours or so later, I made my way into my meditation space. That's when I saw it: a beautiful surprise set up by my sweet Sweetie sometime outside of my awareness, which is a tricky thing to do because I spend the majority of my time in my office where my meditation space is, and I'm in and out of that space all day long until I go to sleep, generally.

But there it was - my Anniversary surprise: a vibrant yellow Marigold; a beautiful and sentimental card; a certificate acknowledging the day we met at a car wash; a red "Love" candle; a Chinese 6 Coin Hanger for abundance; and several of my favorite chocolates!

My heart burst open at the sight of all the love that was sneaked into my day...Oh - what a feeling it was! I cannot describe how such a simple yet deeply thought out gift touched me to the point of tears.

My sweetie got me; my sweetie got me really good with that surprise. My mind was not in the space of "anniversary" because we debated and ultimately agreed that our official anniversary would be what we both considered our first date: November 9th.

But we met on March 26th at a car wash. Yep, I was waiting for my car (which conveniently got "lost" in the back some place) and there we found ourselves sitting on a bench outside engrossed in conversation for an hour. My sweetie's car came out before mine even though I'd been there for some time before...

That's when I discovered that my car was "lost." When I asked about it, the college student girl with the drying towels in her hand said, "Oh - that blue Mazda back there is yours?? We were wondering who it belonged to!" Um, yes, that blue Mazda is mine. For some reason I'll never know, my Mazda wasn't driven up to the front like the rest of the cars. It had been sitting out back for over an hour, and I had been sitting at that car wash for two hours by that time, thoroughly enjoying the visit with my new sexy and sweet friend. I'm not sure who they thought that Mazda belonged to but it was parked out back, clean, dry and ready to go.

That "delay" gave me and my sweetie plenty of time to decide we kinda liked each other, and to make a date to reconnect in a month or so after I returned from some travels I had coming up. I like to believe that it was divine intervention so we could meet, but that's just the romantic in me...

So when I discovered this beautiful gift this morning, I was completely surprised. "Anniversary" was nowhere in my brain. Until I read the card, I had no idea what the surprise was for; and even then, I was a bit confused: "Anniversary? But we decided that was in November!" It was the perfect art of surprise.

I was reminded that love is simply that: a random expression that reaches out and unconditionally touches the heart of another, just to love. How blessed I feel to be the recipient....

I love 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...

Snow Magic

My sweetie's snowbeing.

Wow - it snowed this morning in Texas!
(Friday, February 4, 2011)

There's something about sparkly, white snow that brings a twinkle to my eyes and fills my heart with joy...

Maybe it's the purity of the snow when it's fresh. Maybe it's the magical way it sparkles in the sun. Maybe it's the miracle of falling water turning into elegant crystals that drift lazily from the sky to blanket the land. Maybe it's the fun memories I have of playing in it. Maybe it's just that it so rarely happens here...

Snow on our bamboo.

I can almost hear the plants sighing in the cold, yet with a gentleness that's connected to the beauty of it all. How could they feel anything but bliss at the newness and freshness of snow?

 

Our sweet rosemary plant is reaching up tall to the warm sunshine beginning to drizzle down as the morning progresses, as if to say "Hey - it's cold down here! Shine on, my friend!"

Rosemary in an old wheelbarrow.

The winter ground takes on a whole new look when it's blanketed with white snow: brown leaves from our trees and the wooden garden edging in our front yard look like a work of art when covered with snow.

Garden edging.

St. Francis greets the brave birds that are flitting about looking for food around our feeders...

St. Francis statue in front bird sanctuary.

...but they won't have any luck with water! This is our bird bath, frozen and covered with a light blanket of snow.

The unique bird bath my sweetie found at a weird Austin store.

Even our water hose looks pretty in the snow!

Today, this fresh, white snow became an opening into more love. And it reminds me that everything is an opening into more love... The line from my spiritual teacher's song resurfaces:

"Choose as love what is..."

Touched By Grace

On Saturday, I met a beautiful angel. I didn't catch her name because in looking at her, to name her seemed inappropriate for such an ethereal Being. To "name" her seemed somehow dishonoring of her magnificence.

I met her in a store. She was in the arms of her Nanny, a very loving woman who was enjoying this bright Being as much as the rest of us were. This angel looked at me with her clear blue eyes and in them I saw looking back at me... well, I saw me, in a way that I never have before: the undiluted, essential me. I could tell it was me because I felt it to the heart of my Being.

I looked back at her, feeling a subtle urge to bow my recognition, respect and gratitude to her. The more I looked at her, the more I felt something; the more I felt something, the harder it was to identify. Then it came to me: purity. This angel was the purest, most bright light I've ever encountered in this physical world. She was as close to Divine Source energy as I've ever gotten, and in her eyes, the truth was radiating out. My encounter with her touched me deeply, even if only for  a few moments through her eyes. (She looked a lot like this picture, although this is not her.)

 It was pure, unadulterated love that she radiated and that touched me so deeply. There was nothing whatsoever attached to her gaze; just pure and simple light and love radiating out - joyful and present. It was the kind of love that I aspire to achieve this year through my A Year To Love journey. Can I? Will I ever reach that place of innocence to the point of holding only light, love and joyful presence?

Ahhhhh. My teachers come in interesting packages these days and I am grateful to all of them :)

Life's Poetry

Life fills me with breath. My body expands... and then empties, collapsing. One beautiful breath. One spectacular moment. This is it; this is it... the only moment that counts. "Take it!" screams my heart.

And so I do.

"How? How do I take this moment and use it fully?" ... My mind wants to reason it's way through the moments of my life, yet I'm learning to soften my mind and enter my heart for direction instead. My heart has a guidance system of its own, but its system is not based on reason. Nope; it's based on something entirely different, something that can't be explained because it must be felt instead.

Inspiration; joy; love; compassion; equanimity: these are concepts, yes; and yet they reflect the vibrational fuel of a heart opened.

My heart yearns to be opened... more and more and more... to life, to each breath, to each moment as the blossoming of something grand and beautiful, even if perceived by the mind as painful or ugly to witness.

How does this work? How does one move beyond the mind's labels to witness what is with neutrality and beyond that, with inspiration, joy, love, compassion and equanimity?

My experiment of A Year To Love continues...