The Mountain Remains…

27 Jun 2011 Leave a Comment

by blessingsenterprises in Emotions, Grief, Happiness, Loss and Letting Go, ponderings, Spirituality Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I am always with all beings, I abandon no one.  And however great your inner darkness, you are never separate from Me.   Let your thoughts flow past you calmly.  Keep Me near, at every moment.  Trust Me with your life, because I Am you, more than you yourself are…

~~~Bhagavad Gita

Hello all!  Blogger Slacker returns like a thief in the night, surprise!  A lot has been happening, and the truth is I’ve been living this life instead of blogging about it.  But I wanted to come by so the Spirituality blog and our dear readers don’t get too lonely :)

We signed my mom into hospice last week and I’ve been coming and going a lot.  I was thinking about all of this stuff the last time I was down there, and this post was the favorite of many, so I’m going to re-run it.  I wrote this post last summer and the funny thing is that not much has changed, but everything has changed.  Not much is different, but it’s all so different.  And such is the nature of life.  And so the mountain still remains…Enjoy :)

~~~

I spent the last few days with my parental units, in a little town in Southeast Missouri.  This is an area I blogged about last week when I was thinking of my grandmother and my memories of smells, heaven and so on.  Lest I sound too romantic, the other reality is that this area located in the buckle of the bible belt boasts some pretty startling stats:  Highest illiteracy rates in the state.  Nearly 30% of children and seniors live below the poverty line.  A neighboring county claims the state prize for the most arrests for operating meth labs  and is rampant with child abuse and domestic violence, drug abuse and alcoholism.  It is literally in the middle of nowhere, a dot on a state road map  in the foothills of the Ozark mountains.  My cell phone doesn’t work because it is so far from civilization and if there is ever an emergency, there is no ambulance service.  You buy into a 911 package that allows a helicopter to transport you to a hospital about 50 miles away.

This is an area about an hour from a hospital, an hour from a major grocery store or movie theater, an area settled centuries ago by native mound builders and which later experienced some fierce fighting and plundering during the Civil War.  The Trail of Tears was prominent all through this area and various Indian tribes lived there for centuries before the Europeans arrived.  Much of my ancestry can be traced to the Irish  who settled there then married Cherokees who managed to escape from the Trail and find a new life in those rugged hills.  An old Civil War road runs along a ridge toward the back of their property, a heavily wooded area full of deer and other game, birds and bugs and snakes of all stripes.  In the cemetery where my father’s mother is buried, about two miles back on a dirt road, there is a large hand carved stone, noting only that it is at the head of a mass grave of slaves and Indian mound builders.  No one seems to have other information, but it has always fascinated me.  So it’s not exactly Heaven on paper, but I actually believe Heaven is within, regardless of where I may or may not be.  And besides– God I love it there.  It’s nature at its best;  the people, landscape and its inhabitants wild and untamed, with rolling hills and valleys, which in this part of the world are referred to as “hollers.”

During this trip, we made pickles and tomato juice with ingredients straight from the garden, ran a few errands and I worked in the yard some.  This is my favorite part, the garden and cutting acres of grass.  My father has some big lawn mower things that are nicer than one of the cars I owned in college, a ratty old 4-speed copper colored Datsun  my friend Tom affectionately referred to as “The Turd.”   I learned pretty quickly as a child that if you are cutting grass or doing dishes, people just leave you alone to do your own thing.  This remains true even now. So I like to cut the grass.

Going to their place is always an adventure.  The drive down takes close to 3 hours and rolls through some gorgeous country, through little towns and hamlets named after characters and areas from the Bible, after people long forgotten other than a passing through their creeks or farms.   Yet these mountains and valleys remain, solid witnesses to the passage of time.   I thought of my grandmother a lot on the way down and her uncanny ability to predict the weather, among other things.  She swore that if the cows were laying down (which they were on Thursday) it was a sign of  “falling weather,” and to expect rain or snow or whatever seasonal precipitation falls that time of year.  For the record, the cattle were all sprawled out like college kids after a drinking binge, but the skies were sunny and  earth-bound blue, with no rain in sight.

So these are things you can’t help but notice on the way down.  Part of what I like about going is that I’m never sure what I might end up doing while I’m there.  My mother is not in good health  but is in this Energizer Bunny Holding Pattern, just sort of plugging along.  My clinical brain knows that one of these days, probably sooner rather than later, the batteries in the Bunny will stop working and she’ll sign into hospice.  When that time comes, I’ll go down there for the duration, but for now I just come and go and do what I can.   And when I can, I cut the grass and admire the rolling hills, these foothills of the Ozark mountains.

So I tooled around on the Cadillac of lawn mowers, very Zen-like.  Well, Zen-like other than being lost in thought.   But at least Buddhist in the sense of mostly being really present to the moment.  I love watching the birds dive into areas I just cut, scooping up the bugs that bounce around like kids in bumper cars, scattering wildly to escape the whirring blades.  I love watching the clouds come and go, love hearing the cicadas sing their bluesy summer songs, love the heat and sun, love the ways the earth seems to stand still and move so  steadily at the same time.  The snakes really will leave you alone if you return the same courtesy and they provide the valuable service of keeping the mice and bugs away, so there is a general sense of “live and let live,” which is fine with me.

So I cut grass and soak up sun and sometimes I’m so present to the moment that it aches.  So many people I know are feeling apart from the Divine right now, so apart from who they believe themselves to be, so soul-weary.  I watch my own mother and remember the hundreds of people I worked with in hospice, knowing that you can hold onto life for a long time, but eventually you just become a weary traveler wanting to get home.   I was thinking of the verse from the Gita I listed above and many others, just letting the blades whir around and letting the sun melt some of my own thoughts away.  The Gita is part of the Hindu Scriptures and translates as “The Song of God.”  I love the passage that says God is more me than I am.   I love thinking that I am One with the Divine and those mountains, with all that is happening, all that is so big and small, so real and so surreal.

Later, as one storm after another brought the most ominous looking clouds and dark skies, pounding rain, thunder and lightening vibrating the house and illuminating the mouth of the George Ward Holler (I have no idea who George Ward was, but the storms always come through the valley of his old farm) near their home,  I thought of my grandmother and of how the storms in our own lives just roll through like that.  Some sun, some rain, and usually some warnings for dark skies if we are paying attention, even if that is cows laying down on a hot afternoon.   But then that passes through too, dripping with much needed nourishment for the soils of our souls, lit up, maybe even shaken or stirred a bit. This weekend reminded me of all of these things, and I thought about it a lot.   Mostly the skies in this life are clear, but clouds pass through, that’s just part of it too.  But doing this inner process in deep communion with the Earth makes it more do-able for me and reminds me of a passage from the Prophet Isaiah,

You shall go out in joy, and be led forward in peace; the mountains and hills will break forth before you in singing, and all the trees of the fields will clap their hands…

So I thought about all of that while I mowed and cleaned and made sweet pickles and tomato juice, trying to soak up time like a sponge, feeling it slipping through the hourglass, knowing you can’t hold onto anything or it just cuts as you try to grasp it, feeling time pass with a sense of Amazing Grace.  I find the only way to do this time (or any time, for that matter) is to be present as much as possible– so present that it aches a little…but there is also so much joy there, and that grabs you too.  The Buddhist word for that place is Bodhicitta, which the Dharma teacher Pema Chodron describes as “the soft spot.”   Volumes have been written about this, but it’s basically that soft place inside all of us that holds some pain, some joy, some tenderness, like an old scar that never fully heals.  And all you can do is touch it lightly, like painting a prayer on a cobweb, holding it all in the tenderness of a mother with a sick child, knowing that you are the mother and child all at once.

There is something powerful about that soft spot, knowing it is as eternal as the mountains and valleys, knowing that mountain remains in spite of its own soft spots and pounding rains.  There is something really comforting about the eternal yet so very temporal nature of time and the passage of it, something so very comforting about the deeply personal nature of this time and the universal nature of it as well.    At some point we all experience death–hopefully we all experience a life.  That’s really my primary aspiration with all of this, to be so present to all of my life that it aches, but to take this life, as shaken and stirred as it may feel at times, and really live it.

The poet Li Po pondered these same things, as we all have throughout lifetimes and the ages.  Yet the mountains remain, a witness to our grief and joys, to knowing no matter how dark it feels, we are One.  Nearly 1300 years ago in China Li Po wrote, possibly on a weekend like this one,

The birds have vanished into the sky

And now the last cloud drains away.

We sit together, the mountain and me,

Until only the mountain remains…

So tonight I sit, honoring mountains and time, watching the clouds drain away.  And like clouds in the sky,  we all  pass through, changing forms and moods like the weather, always changing, always eternal, always One with All That Is.   And the mountain remains.

Night moon.

Night stars.

Peace :)






Whole Hearted Courage

15 Mar 2011 Leave a Comment

by blessingsenterprises in Emotions, Grief, Happiness, healing, Loss and Letting Go, Peace, ponderings, prayers, Spirituality Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar…

~~Raymond Lundquist

Hello all :)   Blogger Slacker returns…

I took this pic a few weeks ago in  a remote place called Cathedral Canyon, in The Middle Of Nowhere, Missouri.  To reach this place, you have to leave all that is familiar, drive 2 hours from a major city, then hike  even further  into the more-middle-of-nowhere.  I must say~~ it was totally worth it.  The pic doesn’t do it justice.  I spent a few days in that part of the world, totally off the grid and reconnecting with myself.  It was lovely in a million different ways.  During that time, I pondered why it is that I often have to leave all that is familiar on the outside to reconnect to what I love that is familiar on the inside.  But that is another blog post for another day.

I was thinking today about all of the horror in Japan, reflecting on the impermanence of everything we think is familiar, all we hold dear.  The funny thing is that as things change or become unfamiliar, the human tendency is to engage in our familiar patterns that often don’t serve us….old patterns of shutting up or down, lashing out or in, running away instead of running toward the change.  Yet there  is so much change happening all the time and that’s what we call life.  When we like the changes we say things are going well, when we don’t like the changes we say they aren’t.  But that’s familiar too.  I think it takes real courage to go with all the flows of life, to swim through what might feel like a tsunami with an open heart.  I’m amazed by how many people are able to do just that and I’m grateful when I can do it myself.

This is a time of Lent for some…fasting, prayer and reflection.  This is a time of loss and horror for others…unprecedented, horrible loss on a scale I can’t even begin to comprehend.  This is a time of joy for others…birth, new jobs, new homes, dreams coming true.  This is a time of death and illness for others  and on and on the list of changes goes.  No matter what the circumstance, it takes courage to face it and walk through it with an open mind and heart. And in the middle of it all, in the middle of all the magic and all the tragic, we all crave connection with others.  I have come to believe with my whole heart that the only way I can have a connection with you is if I have a connection with myself first.  And, at least for myself, I feel most connected in a helpful way to myself if I feel connected to the Divine and all of the ways in which God moves within.

All of this  made me think of Brene Brown and her work.  Brene has done some very interesting research in the fields of courage, compassion, shame and how to live with a whole heart.  She speaks of the original meaning of the word “courage,” meaning to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart.  Her research is very interesting and beautiful, I’ll post a clip at the end of one of her TED talks.   It’s well worth the 20 minutes or so it takes to watch.

As you ponder courage and living life with a whole heart…If you are so inclined, please remember those for whom this is a hard or tragic time.  If you are further inclined, perhaps you could hold yourself and others in the gentle and loving space of a whole heart, or at least hold the aspiration that you can do so, for yourself and others.  We are all we’ve got, sweet friends.  And I think it’s important to remember we are all enough.  YOU are enough.   Yes, you. May you go forth with that knowing and the courage of a whole heart of peace and kindness toward yourself and others.

With that, I leave you with Dr. Brene Brown, her bio and video.

Brené Brown, Ph.D., LMSW is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She has spent the past ten years studying vulnerability, courage, authenticity, and shame. Brené spent the first five years of her decade-long study focusing on shame and empathy, and is now using that work to explore a concept that she calls Wholeheartedness. She poses the questions:

How do we learn to embrace our vulnerabilities and imperfections so that we can engage in our lives from a place of authenticity and worthiness? How do we cultivate the courage, compassion, and connection that we need to recognize that we are enough – that we are worthy of love, belonging, and joy?

The Most Important Thing

22 Jan 2011 3 Comments

by blessingsenterprises in Emotions, Grief, Happiness, healing, Loss and Letting Go, Peace, prayers, Spirituality Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Death is certain.  The time of death is uncertain.  Knowing this, what is the most important thing?

~~Buddhist wisdom

I’ve thought about that question a lot lately.  My mom spent several days in the hospital recently, which means I’ve spent a lot of time at a hospital as well.   She is home now, sleeping soundly, and I write this from their house. Today was more doctors, more tests, more of walking the path that comes at this stage of the disease she is living with and dying from.  It is an interesting path and an interesting time.

While that is a personal thing, I also have been reflecting on how universal it is as well.  There has been recent tragedy in our country with the situation in Arizona, but there were also many people who risked their own lives to help others that day.   I talked to several folks this week who have lost friends or family members recently to some form of illness or calamity…deaths, fires, suicides, disease…lots of  broken glass,  broke and hungry,  broken hearts,  broken dreams, broken bones.  Yet nearly everyone I spoke with has already found some good that arose from the hardship.   I think of that question from Buddhism a lot in times like these.  But the truth is, it’s always times like these.  Mostly good, some pain, always something noble and beautiful to find in the ashes.  I was thinking that in all of life, pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.   It’s very much about what we deem “the most important thing.”

As usual, thinking about that led me to thinking about something else and then down the path of convoluted thoughts my mind goes.  And lucky you, Dear Reader, to stop by this blog and get sucked into that wacky mess, so here we go together ;)

My mother is very sick and someday, probably sooner rather than later,  she will die.  I am not  sick, but someday I too will die.  Now, while my personality and activity level are  geared more toward the likelihood of being eaten by a bear in some remote woods than towards getting cancer, the truth is that someday I will leave this body.  I feel very okay with that knowing in this moment.  I suppose if I was gasping for air in an ER I might feel differently about it.  But when thinking about it in the abstract, it feels very much okay in this moment.

So, following the convuluted thoughts of the mind, this led me to thinking about Ram Das and his wisdom.  He has often said,

Our journey is about being more deeply involved in life and yet less attached to it.

As usual, that thought led me to thinking about my attachments and aversions, about the places I want to be more deeply involved but less attached, to love more but cling less.  I watch my mother sleep, watch the sands of time pass through this particular hourglass, watch her breath rise and fall and know someday that will cease.  I have a deep desire to be deeply involved in this process and a deep desire to be less attached to it.  I have a deep desire to be very mindful of my own process in this time, to always be mindful that being self-conscious is not the same thing as attaining self-knowledge.

I find a practice of striving for self-knowledge is more fruitful when I look for the good in any experience or situation, when I look for the most important things in complex situations.  What I often find is that the most important things are usually simple… relationships, love, gratitude, curiosity and a sense of humor.  This does not mean denying there is pain, but it does mean acknowledging great gifts often come  from painful experiences.  When I find the good in a situation, I find it often comes from good people, which leads me to believe the Divine and the Universe are good as well.  Because All is One, that means I am good as well, and all shall be well.  Granted, sometimes that process takes a minute.  But in knowing all shall be well, I can relax and again rest into the most important things.  Thomas Merton said that the more we try to avoid suffering, the more we suffer, and I think he was right. A Chinese proverb says,

Tension is who you think you should be.  Relaxation is who you are.

So, in this time of watching, waiting, living and being with all that is, I think the most important thing is to relax, take some deep breaths, try to let go of the tension that comes from painful experiences and just be. This led me to thinking about Chapter 4 of Philippians, one of my favorite verses in the Bible…

Rejoice  always…Let your gentleness be evident to all. God is near.  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Peace.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things…And the God of peace will be with you.

So tonight, I’m sitting with knowing that just being here, present to this moment,  is the most important thing.   I’m sitting with remembering that this very moment is the best teacher, and she is always with us.  I’m sitting with knowing that the most important thing is to just be here now, to focus on what is lovely and joyful.  The most important thing is to love well, to live fully and openly, peacefully and with thanksgiving.

So tonight, may you find whatever is noble, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable and praiseworthy.  In that and in all things, may you find a peace which passes all understanding, and may you find rest and joy in the most important things.

Night moon ;)





Getting There

15 Nov 2010 Leave a Comment

by blessingsenterprises in Emotions, Loss and Letting Go, ponderings, prayers Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.
~~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hello all :)

I was talking with some folks over the weekend about the paths we walk…how we think the path we are on will lead to a certain place, but part of the journey is accepting when it wanders into other areas.  Staying on the path and getting there aren’t necessarily the same thing, but probably all part of the same path.  It reminded me of the wonderful poem by David Wagoner, so I thought I’d post it.  We’ve all earned this ” worn-down, hard, incredible sight  Called Here and Now…”  I hope this finds you enjoying it.  Have a great day!

Getting There

You take a final step and, look, suddenly
You’re there. You’ve arrived
At the one place all your drudgery was aimed for:
This common ground
Where you stretch out, pressing your cheek to sandstone.

What did you want
To be? You’ll remember soon. You feel like tinder
Under a burning glass,
A luminous point of change. The sky is pulsing
Against the cracked horizon,
Holding it firm till the arrival of stars
In time with your heartbeats.
Like wind etching rock, you’ve made a lasting impression
On the self you were
By having come all this way through all this welter
Under your own power,
Though your traces on a map would make an unpromising
Meandering lifeline.

What have you learned so far? You’ll find out later,
Telling it haltingly
Like a dream, that lost traveler’s dream
Under the last hill
Where through the night you’ll take your time out of mind
To unburden yourself
Of elements along elementary paths
By the break of morning.

You’ve earned this worn-down, hard, incredible sight
Called Here and Now.
Now, what you make of it means everything,
Means starting over:
The life in your hands is neither here nor there
But getting there,
So you’re standing again and breathing, beginning another
Journey without regret
Forever, being your own unpeaceable kingdom,
The end of endings.

~ David Wagoner ~

(In Broken Country)

Big-Beautiful-Wonderful

11 Oct 2010 3 Comments

by blessingsenterprises in Grief, Happiness, Peace, prayers, Spirituality Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

~~From The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver

It’s a gorgeous  here, an Indian Summer day that begged me to, as John Muir  once said, “Grab a bag of tea and a loaf of bread and hop the back fence into the wilderness.”  So I did, and I did so as a prayer.  I wandered and watched the trees flex their muscles and waltz with the breezes, limbs doing yoga, rising and falling like the breath of some Great Being in love with Its own Creation.  While the wind whispered her sunny autumn songs and  played with my hair, I watched deer and hawks and squirrels stop in awe of this perfect day, all of us being idle and blessed.  I wandered around on a tie-dyed carpet of  autumn  forest,  and I thought  about prayers… what  a prayer is and how that gets played out in our lives, about all the fences into the wilderness of our souls, about these wild and precious lives we are given.

I’m honestly not sure what’s happening out there, but a lot of people are feeling rather anxious  and experiencing a lot of  fear, confusion and grief.  I’m watching a lot of people around me deal with a lot of things…broken hearts, broken glass, broken bones, sick and dying parents,   lots of questions about what love and faith and prayer means in times like this.   The truth is that I don’t know either, but I have my own stories about it, and they bring me some comfort and hope, so I thought I’d share that.

First, it’s always helpful to me to remember that somewhere on this planet, 24/7, people are praying for us…The Jews at the Wailing Wall, the contemplatives of all stripes in monasteries all over the world, the Buddhists in faraway temples, Muslims at the Kaaba, the folks at Global Peace Project and Neve Shalom, and many, many more.  Imagine that!  Somewhere on this planet, no matter what time of day, someone is praying for us, for YOU.  For your peace, for the end to suffering, for health and wellness and abundance, for shalom, for us to remember All is One.

Beyond that, I often find it helpful to remember a Buddhist piece of wisdom regarding times like these.  There is a belief in Tibetan Buddhism that says when your world starts to crumble and everything appears as though it’s falling apart, it’s time to step back and get still, to just be with that a minute.  I think a lot of us were raised to believe that when things “go wrong,” it is obvious evidence that we are somehow bad people or at fault in some way, but  in Buddhism the belief is much different.  As it was explained to me, when that many things get wacky all at once, it doesn’t mean I have done something wrong.  It actually means that the gods are trying to birth something big and beautiful and wonderful in my life, and they know if I am not distracted  I will get my sticky little fingers all over it.   The Powers That Be  just want to be left alone to create something beyond my wildest dreams, so like redirecting a toddler, the gods distract me so the Big-Beautiful-Wonderful can get itself born.  I have seen this happen over and over again, have experienced it so many times that I believe it to be true.

I was talking to a good friend about all of this, about how we try live our lives out as prayers, about all the suffering in the world…toxic sludge in rivers and in our emotions, in our politics and in so many places.  But there are also so many kind and skillful people out there to meet those needs, to engage the suffering and work to heal it and bring relief. There are many  places of opportunity for the Big-Beautiful-Wonderful  to get itself born and for us to be the answer to someone’s prayer.   I also see how this unnerves people, to think they could be used by God in some way, to become part of the Big-Beautiful-Wonderful for someone else, but it’s always been that way.  And I suspect it will continue to always be that way, for which I am enormously grateful.

All of the prophets and “chosen people” of God have been afraid of their call, never believing they were “good” enough to be used by God.  But as the saying goes, God doesn’t call the equipped, God equips the called.   Moses  stuttered.  The Prophet Jeremiah said he was too young.   Gandhi tried to be a lawyer but was afraid to speak in public.   Mohammad and Elijah ran away and hid in caves.   Mother Theresa thought she would just teach school.   The Prophet Isaiah said he couldn’t do it because he “was a man of unclean lips.”  I love this, Isaiah the prophet and poet a potty mouth–   It gives me some hope for my own unclean lips ;)     All of the people from each tradition have said they couldn’t do it, all were afraid and tried to avoid God and their call.   But I’ve come to believe that’s part of the prayer too, part of living this wild and precious life.

I believe prayer is always heard and somehow answered, even if it doesn’t appear to be so on the surface.  I believe the work we do and the prayers we say help no matter what.  I believe that by giving into the flow of the prayers of others, we get sticky with that Big-Beautiful-Wonderful nectar too, all sharing in the abundance  because All is One.  In God’s economy nothing is wasted, so sometimes I get to have my prayers answered, and other times get to be the answer to a prayer, and somehow that all ends up being the same thing.  So I’m not sure what a prayer is, but I do know when we pay attention to the glory, the abundance and the need around us, all of that begins to look as if it is One and the Mystery somehow deepens and yet opens at the same time.  And how cool is that?

Sometimes seeing so much suffering in the world is just overwhelming.  But there is also so much good and beauty and joy in the world.  I think the confusion arises in thinking I have to go “out there” somewhere to meet the need, that it has to be a healing center or build a city on a hill or be another Mama T in India.  But the truth is that Jesus said to everyone, “You are the Light of the World.”  One of my favorite stories about this is from Father Gregory Boyle, the founder of Homeboy Industries.

In 1992, as a response to the civil unrest in Los Angeles, Fr. Greg launched his first business,  Homeboy Bakery.  The mission was to create an environment that provided training, work experience, and above all, the opportunity for rival gang members to work side by side. The success of the Bakery created the groundwork for additional businesses, thus prompting an independent non-profit organization, Homeboy Industries, in 2001. Today Homeboy Industries’ nonprofit economic development enterprises include merchandise, retail shops and cafes. Undoubtedly, innumerable prayers have been answered through just this one organization.  But I bet those answering prayers have had some of their own blessings too, because we are all the Light of the world.

When discussing how to live as a prayer, Fr. Greg says,

Jesus says, “You are the light of the world.”  I like even more what Jesus doesn’t say.  He does not say, “One day, if you are more perfect and try really hard, you’ll be light.”  He doesn’t say “If you play by the rules, cross your T’s and dot your I’s, then maybe you’ll become light.”  No.  He says, straight out, “You are the light.”  It is the truth of who you are, waiting only for you to discover it. So, for God’s sake, don’t move.  No need to contort yourself to be anything other than who you are.

I love that.  So from civil unrest arose something which remains Big-Beautiful-Wonderful, and like everything it just evolved from one thing to another.  I love that we don’t have to try so hard.  I love that maybe the thing we are supposed to do with our Big-Beautiful-Wonderful lives is to live in the question of our own prayers and perhaps then live as if we believe we are the answer to the prayers of others.   It’s good to have needs and ask for help–it allows someone else to be the answer to your prayers, and so the blessings extend far and wide.  That’s a good thing.  As the writer of Hebrews says,

Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds.

- Hebrews 10:24

So tonight, first a shout out to all of you who have always been and continue to be an answer to my prayers–I bow in humble gratitude.  I hope I can be the same type of blessing for all of you.  And for all of those experiencing a loss of hope or faith, feeling anxious or overwhelmed, saddened or grieved–may you experience the Big-Beautiful-Wonderful and remember the beauty of your own Light, and remember you are not alone, and prayers abound for your health, healing, peace and wholeness.

Peace and blessings,

T

The Bridge, a Story about Consequences

17 Sep 2010 Leave a Comment

by blessingsenterprises in Emotions, Happiness, Loss and Letting Go, ponderings Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“To confront a person with their own shadow is to show them their own light…”

~~Carl Jung

This is a story about fear, about our choices and ultimately what we are responsible for in our lives…To what do we owe ourselves and the Other, whomever that may be?   How do we face our fears?  If you like this story and the following questions, I wrote a post on the Blessings Blog called Smiling at Fear, about how we face these choices and deal with these inevitable situations in our lives.   If you are interested, you can find that here.

I got this story some time ago from Missy Bradley, the teacher of the Heroic Journey Seminar.  If you get a chance to see her in your city, it is so well worth it!  You can find her schedule here.  This is a great story, and it a total cut and paste, nothing original here but not much I can do to improve on it, so enjoy!

The Bridge

By Edwin Friedman

There was a man who had given much thought to what he wanted from life. He had experienced many moods and trials. He had experimented with different ways of living, and he had had his share of both success and failure. At last, he began to see clearly where he wanted to go.

Diligently, he searched for the right opportunity. Sometimes he came close, only to be pushed away. Often he applied all his strength and imagination, only to find the path hopelessly blocked.  And then at last it came. But the opportunity would not wait. It would be made available only for a short time. If it were seen that he was not committed, the opportunity would not come again.

Eager to arrive, he started on his journey. With each step, he wanted to move faster; with each thought about his goal, his heart beat quicker; with each vision of what lay ahead, he found renewed vigor. Strength that had left him since his early youth returned, and desires, all kinds of desires, reawakened from their long-dormant positions.

Hurrying along, he came upon a bridge that crossed through the middle of a town. It had been built high above a river in order to protect it from the floods of spring. He started across. Then he noticed someone coming from the opposite direction. As they moved closer, it seemed as though the other were coming to greet him. He could see clearly, however, that he did not know this other, who was dressed similarly except for something tied around his waist.

When they were within hailing distance, he could see that what the other had about his waist was a rope. It was wrapped around him many times and probably, if extended, would reach a length of 30 feet.   The other began to uncurl the rope, and, just as they were coming close, the stranger said, “Pardon me, would you be so kind as to hold the end a moment?”

Surprised by this politely phrased but curious request, he agreed without a thought, reached out, and took it.

“Thank you,” said the other, who then added, “two hands now, and remember, hold tight.”

Whereupon, the other jumped off the bridge.

Quickly, the free-falling body hurtled the distance of the rope’s length, and from the bridge the man abruptly felt the pull. Instinctively, he held tight and was almost dragged over the side. He managed to brace himself against the edge, however, and after having caught his breath, looked down at the other dangling, close to oblivion.

“What are you trying to do?” he yelled.

“Just hold tight,” said the other.

“This is ridiculous,” the man thought and began trying to haul the other in. He could not get the leverage, however. It was as though the weight of the other person and the length of the rope had been carefully calculated in advance so that together they created a counterweight just beyond his strength to bring the other back to safety.

“Why did you do this?” the man called out.

“Remember,” said the other, “if you let go, I will be lost.”

“But I cannot pull you up,” the man cried.

“I am your responsibility,” said the other.

“Well, I did not ask for it,” the man said.

“If you let go, I am lost,” repeated the other.

He began to look around for help. But there was no one. How long would he have to wait? Why did this happen to befall him now, just as he was on the verge of true success?   He examined the  side, searching for a place to tie the rope. Some protrusion, perhaps, or maybe a hole in the boards. But the railing was unusually uniform in shape; there were no spaces between the boards. There was no way to get rid of this newfound burden, even temporarily.

“What do you want?” he asked the other hanging below.

“Just your help,” the other answered.

“How can I help? I cannot pull you in, and there is no place to tie the rope so that I can go and find someone to help me help you.”

“I know that. Just hang on; that will be enough. Tie the rope around your waist; it will be easier.”

Fearing that his arms could not hold out much longer, he tied the rope around his waist.

“Why did you do this?” he asked again. “Don’t you see what you have done? What possible purpose could you have had in mind?”

“Just remember,” said the other, “my life is in your hands.”

What should he do? “If I let go, all my life I will know that I let this other die. If I stay, I risk losing my momentum toward my own long-sought-after salvation. Either way this will haunt me  forever.”  W ith ironic humor he thought to die himself, instantly, to jump off the bridge while still  holding on. “That would teach this fool.” But he wanted to live and to live life fully. “What a choice I have to make; how shall I ever decide?”

As time went by, still no one came. The critical moment of decision was drawing near. To show his commitment to his own goals, he would have to continue on his journey now. It was already almost too late to arrive in time. But what a terrible choice to have to make.

A new thought occurred to him. While he could not pull this other up solely by his own efforts, if the other would shorten the rope from his end by curling it around his waist again and again, together they could do it. Actually, the other could do it by himself, so long as he, standing on the bridge, kept it still and steady.

“Now listen,” he shouted down. “I think I know how to save you.” And he explained his plan.

But the other wasn’t interested.

“You mean you won’t help? But I told you I cannot pull you up myself, and I don’t think I can hang on much longer either.”

“You must try,” the other shouted back in tears. “If you fail, I die.”

The point of decision arrived. What should he do? “My life or this other’s?” And then a new idea.

A revelation. So new, in fact, it seemed heretical, so alien was it to his traditional way of thinking.

“I want you to listen carefully,” he said, “because I mean what I am about to say. I will not accept the position of choice for your life, only for my own; the position of choice for your own life I hereby give back to you.”

“What do you mean?” the other asked, afraid.

“I mean, simply, it’s up to you. You decide which way this ends. I will become the counterweight.  You do the pulling and bring yourself up. I will even tug a little from here.” He began unwinding  the rope from around his waist and braced himself anew against the side.

“You cannot mean what you say,” the other shrieked. “You would not be so selfish. I am your responsibility. What could be so important that you would let someone die? Do not do this to me!”

He waited a moment. There was no change in the tension of the rope.

“I accept your choice,” he said, at last, and freed his hands.

The End.

Copyright 1990, The Guilford Press, under option to Snaproll Films

The questions that come with the clinical book with this story are:

1. How would you get the man hanging from the rope to take responsibility for himself?

2. How much responsibility does the man on the bridge have for the other?

3. Why is is so difficult to let go once we are experiencing “rope-burn?”

4. What is a higher value, self-sacrifice or achieving your own salvation?

5. Why do the needy often get most needy when others around them are functioning best?

6. Why are the dependent so often calling the shots?

7. If the man on the bridge never got away, could the man handing on to the rope be accused of murder?

8. How does this story get played out in families, schools, religious institutions, health-care delivery centers, business organizations and government?

9. Could both men be the same person? If so, how?

10. If someone came up to you and said, “Hold the end or I’ll jump,” what would you do?

Food for thought.

Have a great weekend.  peace :)

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