Non Sequitur

For 2009, I'm working on being humble. This is not going to be a phase of subtle false modesty, "...what this old thing?". No, this time, I'd like to break my addiction to seeking praise and acclaim completely - become independent of the good opinion of others. I want to do what I need to do without being afraid that it just won't cut it. I don't want to simply repeat the mantra that I am enough just as I am, I want to experience this truth live itself out through my actions.

At first, I held this intention purely in my head, letting myself serve some whatever purpose naturally presented itself. I felt a little like I was floating on air - I felt serene. I imagined myself as some kind of Saint Thérèse, embracing the simplicity of the "Little Way". Ya Cool. I was on my way to expressing the greatest humbleness EVER!!

Then, quite suddenly, I started to feel an awkward subservience to those around me... Why didn't they notice and remark about how fantastically humble I had become!?!? Yep. Back to square one.

If you canvased the kids in my daughter's grade two class about what they wanted to be when they grow up, most of the girls would declare that the life of a pop star was in their future, and a majority of the boys would report upcoming careers in the NHL. These things represent the epitome of success to them. Celebrities must be so defined because they are the Best, and being the Best means never having to say your sorry. The end justifies the means. And if you are the Best you can be a nasty piece of work and everyone can't help loving you anyway - you are a legend.

Even as adults we dream of being the Best. Why do we feel encouraged to set our expectations ever higher, often leading to feelings of inadequacy? While there seems to be nothing spiritually wrong with a regression toward mediocrity, it's just not something that we tend to aspire to. Despite dreams of sky rocketing, most of us eventually drift into something sensible and continue go with the flow. But secretly, we wonder... what would it be like to be on top of the world?

Over the holidays I began, once again, to read the Tao Te Ching; a 2500 year old spiritual text written by Chinese philosopher Lao Tse. This spiritual adept is regarded alternately as a legitimate historical figure from 4th century BC, a mere mythical character, or a Taoist God.

"Taoism" can be a philosophical school based on the texts of the Tao Te Ching; or "Religious Taoism" which includes a the Chinese folk religion. The texts are written in an antiquated form of Chinese that is difficult to translate, so there are a lot of varying interpretations centering around the Tao's main concepts of compassion, moderation, and humility. Taoist theology emphasizes ideas such as naturalness, vitality, peace, "effortless action", emptiness, detachment, the strength of softness (or flexibility), receptiveness, spontaneity, and the relativism of human ways of acting of speaking.

Verse 13 in particular has been on my mind, and I've been re-reading it in a few different translations. I had trouble choosing which one to quote here, but settled on a modern version by Archie J. Bahm, Frederick Ungar Publishing, (1958).

"Pride and shame cause us much fearful anxiety. But our inner peace and distress should be our primary concerns.

"Why do pride and shame cause us so much fearful anxiety? Because: Pride attaches undue importance to the superiority of one's status in the eyes of others; And shame is fear of humiliation at one's inferior status in the estimation of others. When one sets his heart on being highly esteemed, and achieves such rating, then he is automatically involved in fear of losing his status. Then protection of his status appears to be his most important need. And humiliation seems the worst of all evils. This is the reason why pride and shames cause us so much fearful anxiety.

"Why should our inner peace and distress be our primary concerns? Because: The inner self is our true self; so in order to realize our true self, we must be willing to live without being dependent upon the opinions of others. When we are completely self-sufficient, then we can have no fear of disesteem.

"He who wisely devotes himself to being self-sufficient, and therefore does not depend for his happiness upon external ratings by others, is the one best able to set an example for, and to teach and govern, others."

I'm always surprised (though I shouldn't be I guess) when I hear an artist, actor or musician I admire say that they don't really feel "cool enough", or when they wonder out loud if they will ever do anything that they will be truly proud of. It shocks me a little, yet also makes me feel better about those same feelings I struggle with.

"Hard to be soft, tough to be tender." Here's a wonderful interview with Emily Haines of Metric.

Harbinger of Nothing in Particular

"To be an artist is not a matter of making paintings or objects at all. What we are really dealing with is our state of consciousness and the shape of our perception. The act of art is a tool for extended consciousness..." --Robert Irwin

I seem to be on some kind of all-work sabbatical. Not a dull girl at all, but I'm picking expectations off me like ticks. Toiling with my mind and not getting my hands dirty is frustrating - especially when I set my sights on some particular subtle outcome involving a "feeling" about the results of these hours of concentration. What a hair-shirt!

When I gather knowledge it makes me happy to soak it up greedily, for it never seems like a bad thing at the time. My penchant for excitement and drama strips from it any idealistic appeal. I'm a realist at heart. I know that a generalist like me can never hope to approach perfection in any one thing. Not anything that can be demonstrated or that comes with a piece of parchment that proves mastery. I am condemned to an almost exclusively subjective inner experience. And this is what I attempt to record here.

I don't want anything from you. I'm not trying to be funny. I don't have anything to sell you. I do not have the latest breaking news on stocks, stars or technology. There is no-thing, no trick I can try to offer here that isn't duplicated around this web-world in a thousand other ways (nicer looking, better prose, more effective allusions/metaphors and more lofty conclusions).

My hands are empty and I love this feeling at this time of year. I am not Christian, but I celebrate Christmas. Not for the birth of a son of God, but for the rebirth of the light of Spiritus Mundi. Every year when darkness falls it seems a poignant commentary on something in my life and everything around me! It is indeed darkest before the dawn. I find it lovely how the dawn occurs each year whether one is in need of a rebirth of faith in one's life or not. The allegory is not lost on me (just the literal facts).

I am entertained by the way that I can see beauty all around me and not be able to express it to my satisfaction. I love that I find some people's soul so beautiful it pains me... and how I say nothing about it to them or of them. I like the secret. I like the juiciness of that one clear connection that remains unsaid. It is a fully actualized thought that neither whores itself, nor hides itself like a hermit. It's not up to me to draw conclusions, but to let these thoughts fly, unencumbered by judgment.

I'm writing this for me in the way I would trace my name into the sand at East Beach. I heart me. I heart this spicy existence and this imperfect blog. I heart the way I love the darkness of a mind in turmoil, an ordinary day full of ordinary experiences, and the way my reaction to events irks me to craziness. I heart the way I burn bridges, the ruthless way I reject. I heart my unfinished projects (and my ridiculous lust for world domination). And the effort it takes to hit publish. It's not that deep, not that exciting. It's not for anyone's pleasure, this secret post. But that is at the heart of creation: faith in the process.

In each human heart terror survives
The ravin it has gorged: the loftiest fear
All that they would disdain to think were true:
Hypocrisy and custom make their minds
The fanes of many a worship, now outworn.
They dare not devise good for man's estate,
And yet they know not that they do not dare.
~from Percy Bysshe Shelley's Prometheus Unbound

I am Blue Sky

"Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your permission."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I read once, in some spiritually based article about psychology, that our thoughts are clouds over the clear blue sky that is our true inner "self". I like that metaphor. I imagine the constant stream of critical, dark thoughts that arise out of insecurity about our performance, social convention, and self worth swirling ominously around fluffy white pockets of joy.

I often spend the day pummeling my mind with an array of perceived deficiencies which, in turn, make my daily tasks more difficult, prone to misinterpretation and error as they sift through a cluttered web of chemtrails made with half baked intentions and fragmented inspirations.

When I imagine the ever-present storms that my thoughts must create around me, I am struck how my every-day personality must be nearly wholly made up of swirling masses of perceptions, reactions and judgements. I am like the planet Jupiter, made almost entirely of dense thoughts that obscure my elemental core. The world seems too much with me and in reality never touches me at all.

There was a time in my life, from early childhood up until about aged 13 that I lived almost wholly in my imagination. I read fiction voraciously from the time I was seven years old and pulled from these books the characters, settings and plots that were as real to me as any object in the tangible world around me. It may have been caused by unusual amount of solitude I experienced through the ages of five 'till nine.

I can still conjure up, twenty-something years later these familiar vignettes:

• I am a ballooning spiderling, on a veil and a prayer.
• A marooned aviatrix pushing through the boundless Congo jungle.
• I am Nimuë, turning an already swallowed poison into a harmless sweet syrup.
• I am a princess of Amber traveling to Tir-na Nóg'th, Frakir tightened about my wrist.
• I am a Priestess of Avalon, white hand moving swiftly to hide runes in a velvet bag.
• A Bene Gesserit who walks gracefully, yet without rhythm, so not to attract the sandworm.
• I am the only one the Commander trusts to return the stolen microfiche.
• The only one the Black Stallion will let ride.
• The only one who can hear the ghost of the murdered girl howling for revenge.
• The only one who repair the last rocket's engine.

I had a dragon who grew in real time after appearing in my room at age 7, and leaving me to wander off to explore the world after he and I were fully grown. (Julian found me when he was about the size of a German Shepherd and flew off to seek his fortune when he was about the size of a school bus.)

I had fairies and angels that followed me around murmuring inappropriate jokes at inopportune times or giggling and chanting when I was trying to fall asleep. Small creatures that seemingly had no purpose (and no social skills) vied for my attention. And then there were the glowing orbs of light that would swirl around the room as I lay calm and trance-like, sleepless in that endless darkness of a child's experience of night.

All these things faded away over time. Perhaps they were poisoned by my adolescent mind as the attractions of the outer world eclipsed the enchantments of the inner. I remember these things with a smile, shaking my head with relief that I never gave anyone a reason to examine my mental health. Though now as my self actualization develops I am drawn again inward to the pursuits of my imagination. My fantasies are now based on real people and events. A motley group of desires -- writing a book on tropical isle, a pair of boots certain to possess magical powers, something shiny, a gentle soul reaching out, a force as strong as it is kind.

We are stuck between the need for security and a longing for adventure, seeking out entertainment that provides a safe glimpse into a fascinating parallel world. Enjoying a story that plays on the big screen on merely in the mind.

Weapons of Mass Creation

"Our loyalties are to the species and to the planet. We speak for earth. Our obligation to survive and flourish is owed not just to ourselves but also to that cosmos ancient and vast from which we spring!

We are one species!

We are star stuff harvesting starlight!"

~Carl Sagan~

For your consideration... Zeitgeist: Addendum, by Peter Joseph 2008

Or see it here

Waxing Poetic

The Moon,
Like a half-eaten baked brie,
hangs yellow and dripping,
just above the edge of the horizon.

~VCreatrix

Resistance: It's Futile

A a few weeks ago I lay enjoying THE nicest aromatherapy hot stone massage at a local working Lavender Farm. I was intending to relax, but my brain was still tallying and sorting. I may just have been beginning to compose another blog entry about the nature of consciousness and creativity, but I was there to rest, revitalize and clear my mind. My thoughts slowed but did not stop entirely. I remember vaguely contemplating the installation of a couple of volume sliders into my body. One for "thinking" and one for "feeling", and that got me to thinking about resistance...

I tried to focus on my breathing -- trained my awareness on the ebb and flow of the wave of sublimely scented air in the room. This went extremely well for about 1.4 seconds. Did my mind seem louder because my surroundings were quiet, or did it see this as an opportunity to step onto centre stage? When I watch a terrific movie, I lose myself in the show, suspend my disbelief, and "live" in the story for most of the duration of the show. Why is it that so difficult to "check out" and leave my thoughts behind to lose myself in the intensity of the feelings of relaxation?

One of the problems might just be that darned amphibian brain of ours. The one that is constantly aware of impending dangers, searches out symbols for possible threats and reacts. Self preservation depends on the speed of these connections, calculations and reaction. In 1960, Karl Pribram described the basics of motivation as the four "Fs": Feeding, Fighting, Fleeing and Reproduction.

Perhaps intensity is the key. Stimulation junkies that we modern folks are, need to get pretty riled up before their thoughts turn off. (I can think of only a few activities that can generate this effect.)

Stepping out of your regular routine, out of the ordinary, out of your comfort zone... and sometimes even into a zone of total comfort all help keep thoughts in a healthy sphere. Unless of course, you begin to obsess about about your level of performance in a new activity, or have added far too many new things to your old routine without letting something go...

Often, as we work, we ponder vacation. On vacation we can't help worry somewhat about our responsibilities back home. We resist the present moment in favour of thoughts of the future or the past.

A holiday to Shuswap Lake last week had me winding down, but not before cranking up the heat. I had repacked my things into a larger bag at the last minute and neglected a side pocket of unmentionables and my carefully chosen bathing suits. We arrived as the afternoon heat peaked and I rushed to change into my bikini... which was of course back in the bag left at home. I ached with regret and annoyance -- felt not a stoic acceptance of the predicament, but a strong dissatisfaction with it. Ok, I experienced some serious resistance to my immediate situation. I must admit to over-indulging in self pity before settling on the ad hoc solution of grabbing a $10 suit of the rack at Field's at 5 minutes to closing. It looked like a shower curtain from a cheap hotel, (oops there's resistance again) but at least I could take a flying leap into the lake.

I had intended to initiate a more exhaustive search for a better suit the following day; but strangely, the lake beckoned more strongly. Lying on the bow of the boat several hours later, finally allowing myself to unwind and enjoy the pure joy of warm summer breezes, I marveled at how the water sparkled and the clouds drifted and that felt wonderful.

If this was a movie there would follow an inspiring montage (to the music of "I can see clearly now the rain is gone...") Syrupy scenes of Moi, learning to let go... A series of tableaus, would show me struggling awkwardly in a frustrating circumstance before turning my frown upside down after a moment of inspiration and twinkle in my eye. My family and friends would gently remind me and I would not bite off their heads... no, instead I would shug my shoulders and nod knowingly... then we would all laugh out loud like at the end of a kids cartoon.

[Attention idealists: Finish Article Here]

But back at homestead, I'm sitting in a pile of dirty laundry and a long list of "to dos" I'm feeling the tension again. I may have made a sarcastic comment or two about having to do all the dirty work myself. There were most probably several sighs and clicks of the tongue followed by some procrastination and avoidance manefesting as strong desire to first "catch up on news and events" (aka..Brangelina's twins and Facebook).

Sure, it's human nature to focus on what could be rather than what is, but it makes about as much sense as complaining about how gravity keeps pulling everything to the ground. Resistance, yep.

For more advice about avoiding resistance while obeying the laws of physics read: Time Shifting vs Time Management--Stephan Rechtschaffen

Mustard seeds

The messages are all around me. This morning as I dumped Hazelnut Hemp Heaven granola into some yogurt, I spied a flash of yellow from inside the bag. Stuck on the reverse of the label of the clear packaging was a secret note (left just for me by the Granola King) -- only now becoming visible as the contents are emptied out.

It said, "If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them." ~ Henry David Thoreau

So much of life is gazing at castles in the sky (your own as well as other people's) and feeling a certain degree of discomfort at their elusive beauty. Sometimes the view is further obscured by the foggy sensation of longing and a certain blind devotion to wanting. And then the "reality" of responsibility kicks in. Positive messages are being whispered all around if you care to quieten down those "realistic" anxieties and pay attention, but it turns out that it is particularly difficult for women to free themselves from these emotions.

"...There's an area of your brain that's assigned the task of negative thinking," says Louann Brizendine, MD, a neuropsychiatrist at the University of California, San Francisco, and the author of The Female Brain. "It's judgmental. It says 'I'm too fat' or 'I'm too old.' It's a barometer of every social interaction you have. It goes on red alert when the feedback you're getting from other people isn't going well." This worrywart part of the brain is the anterior cingulate cortex. In women, it's actually larger and more influential, as is the brain circuitry for observing emotions in others. "The reason we think females have more emotional sensitivity," says Brizendine, "is that we've been built to be immediately responsive to the needs of a nonverbal infant. That can be both a good thing and a bad thing."

I've practiced daily mindfulness for a number of years, but find that the egoic, material obsessed mind possesses a vortex-like undertow that I am still constantly drifting back towards. I know am not alone, as there are always several bestselling books that give advice on how to manage these kinds of thoughts and feelings. But I have discovered that there are others who are searching for the method to living a fully actualized life and that some are leaving articles of faith in ordinary places for others to find.

This morning the medium is also the message. Someone thought to place this note in the packaging to inspire others. Naturally, there had to have been a series of small-scale decisions involved in making this possible; but this too, began as a delicate, airy castle in the sky that someone chose to allow themselves to bestow a foundation upon. Perhaps he was inspired by a similar icon planted by someone else.

The castle is easy to create. The foundation appears as the result of certain degree of faith and plenty of good 'ol sweat. There is a choice that needs to be made directly after conceiving that castle. Let yourself believe.

I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, "Move from here to there" and it will move.
~ The Bible, Matthew 17:20