The Responsibility of Knowing Better

“I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”  - Maya Angelou

This quote from Dr. Maya Angelou has allowed me to look at myself and others through the eyes of compassion. It  has also eliminated the excuse of ignorance and laid upon me a deeper responsibility for my actions. 

We all make mistakes based on ignorance, especially when we're young or just too busy to think about the longterm consequences of our actions. Sometimes we make the same mistake more than once. But, eventually we must make time to reflect on our actions, so we might learn from those mistakes. When we do, we will know better! 

Knowing better eliminates the excuses we tell ourselves when we flub up. We can no longer deny that we didn't know what we were doing. We must take the responsibility for our actions and the hurt we have caused others. We must promise ourselves to do better! We must live with integrity! 

Meditation When You're Too Busy to Sit

Each day I make time to connect with the divine in me during meditation. It calms me, so I can remember my purpose and my intention to live from my higher self. But, there are times when I find it difficult to sit still and watch my breath, or I just can't find the time in a busy day. Sometimes I am plagued by the "monkey mind" when a never-ending stream of mundane thoughts float in and out of my brain. When this happens, I don't need to sit cross-legged on a cushion to reap the benefits of meditation. I can turn to movement as my meditation. 

Any movement can become a meditation, such as taking a short walk in the garden or around the block, stretching on the yoga mat, or doing household chores. As I water the plants in the garden, I remind myself to notice the sensation of the air on my face, the smell of the plants around me, the sound of the birds and other outdoor creatures, the texture of the leaves and flower petals, and the warmth of the sun-drenched tomato. When I walk, I pay attention to the sensations in my body like the pressure on the ball of my foot as it touches the ground. My favorite movement meditation is when I'm stretching during yoga exercises. It is the perfect opportunity to go inward and connect with my body and mind. 

Any household chore can become a meditation. While I'm doing dishes, I notice the slipperiness of the soap as my hands slide across the dish. I notice the heaviness of a platter or the delicate pattern of a teacup. Making the bed can be done in the same way. When I go about my tasks in a mindful, fully present manner, the chores almost become a delight.  Any chore can be turned into an opportunity to breathe deeply, be present, and connect with the body and the world around me.

By using movement and daily tasks as avenues into the meditative state, I can connect with my higher self numerous times during the day. My mindful self is only a breath away. 

Finding Grace

A quote from More Than a Whisper: One Woman's Journey Through Pain to Grace

Shenpa - Triggers that Close the Heart

I've been reading a book by Pema Chodron in which she speaks of those twinges that we feel when someone gives us a certain look or says a certain word that makes our bile rise. She calls them by the Tibetan word "shenpa" which means attachment. It might also be called "getting hooked." Shenpa occurs when there's a stimulus that triggers something from our past that was negative and we have not let it go. It is like a thorn that we have not yet removed. We are still carrying the hurt or anger we felt when it first happened. We are unaware that we're carrying it until that specific word or action is repeated, and then it all comes flooding back. Often, the person who has triggered it had no intention of upsetting us.

In my own case, my shenpa rises to the bait when I feel that my independence is being threatened. I can feel my stomach and throat tighten when someone tries to help me without asking me first if I want or need help. I know the person is only trying to be kind, but my shenpa has been triggered. I want to bluntly say, I can do it myself! and then proceed to show them that I don't need their help. Because I know that this is just a reaction from the past, I have to give the feeling a few seconds to recede, and then I can accept the other person's offer or decline politely.

When beginning to work with one's own shenpa, it is often easier to see someone else's shenpa first. It might be a tightening of the jaw, a narrowing of the eyes, a pulling back, or a sudden silence. Because of something you said or did, they are no longer open to you and your ideas. You may or may not know what it was that triggered their aversion, but it is best to leave it alone. You are working on recognizing and calming the shenpa that arises in you, not them.

Try watching your own reactions when you interact with others. Is there a certain word, facial expression, or tone of voice that opens an old wound? You don't have to understand the origin of the wound. Just know that it is there, and that it doesn't have to be strengthened by feeding it with your habitual reaction. Instead, allow the feeling to be there with you as its witness. It will soon evaporate, and you can carry on with an open heart!

Total Surrender Parts the Veil

One month before my son left his body, the veil between this physical world and the spirit world parted. I caught glimpses of the world that had been present but hidden from my earthly senses.

After many months of trying to control the outcome of my son's illness, I completely surrendered and the spirit world became visible.

This morning I was reminded of that time when I was listening to Ram Dass speak about the stages of our journey in this life. He spoke of eventually reaching the stage when we must surrender. That time usually happens when we experience great loss. It might be the death of a loved one or our own impending death.

When Ram Dass spoke of surrender, he made the distinction between wanting to surrender and actual surrender. There is a difference. We can want to surrender, and we can try to surrender, but it is only when we relinquish all desire to control or to surrender and just do it that the veil moves aside. For me it was when I had no other choice. I no longer had the energy or the will to fight the inevitable death of my son. I fell into total surrender.

That surrender put me into a state in which I became an observer of life, both of this world and the spirit world. This lasted for a couple years. I saw, felt, and heard much more than I had ever suspected was around me. In addition to lucid dreams, I had several moments a day when I caught glimpses of spirits who were protecting me and guiding me through my grief. I heard the voices of my guide and my departed loved ones, giving me guidance by implanting words into my consciousness. I felt the loving touch of my son and my guides.

I speak of this in detail in my book More Than a Whisper: A Woman's Journey Through Pain to Grace published by Balboa Press. The grace I speak of in the title came about because of the glimpses behind the veil that changed my view of life and my purpose for being on earth at this time. My complete surrender brought about the gift of insight that carried me through those dark days.

In the World, but Not Of the World

How does one live in this world and still maintain a connection with the Higher Self without being labeled a "party pooper" or a "wet blanket"?

We just had a big Fourth of July holiday weekend which translates into lots of family, friends, food, and celebration! I love being with my family, but my Buddhist tendencies cause conflicting feelings about the wastefulness of food and the assault on nature with the explosion of fireworks.

I live where sea life abounds. When the taking of that sea life is allowed, there's a feeding frenzy. Boatloads of fishermen descend upon the waters dropping their traps with the intention of capturing far more seafood than their group can devour. I enjoy the flavor of the delicacies from the sea as well as anyone else, but how do I resolve the conflict between my vow to "do no harm" and cooking a dozen beautiful dungeness crab that my family has just pulled from the water? My heart is torn between seeing my family enjoy their bounty and watching many lives die when there's already a refrigerator full of fresh food.

Living along the water also means that we have many species of shore birds that entertain us with their chatter, diving skills, and playful antics. The beach and air are clean all year, except on busy holiday weekends. This is when the noise scares the birds out of their treetop resting places and the smoke in the air from exploded fireworks makes the beautiful trees just a hazy memory. Remnants of these explosions litter the beach, yards, and water. Why do we feel that this is necessary in order to enjoy a day commemorating our country's independence?

I've chosen to handle these conflicts by giving away much of the extra food that accumulated from the overzealous appetites of my guests and by watching the firework displays without purchasing and setting off any of my own. This might be an adequate solution for the present moment, but it falls short of what my conscience desires. My Higher Self finds this world of material extravagance a difficult place to reside.

The Present is a Gift

The present is a gift that most of us forget to open. In order to be present, we must set aside our worries about tomorrow and our stories from the past. We must open our minds and hearts to the surroundings that are before us right now. Being aware and in touch with the people and things around us requires action. It takes a commitment to hear, see, and feel our connection to the world, making sure we don't get so caught up in one aspect that all else is forgotten. 

When walking in nature it is relatively easy to remain open to all the smells, sounds, and sights. We are able to look at nature with an openness, as if seeing it for the first time. We can take in the grandeur of the trees, the sweet smell of the earth and plants, and the songs of the birds. 

When walking through the forest, we don't judge the trees because the bark of one trunk is rougher or smoother than another. We don't tell the robin that its song is not as musical as the blackbird.  We enjoy the variety of color and shape of the plant leaves without calling one better than another. We accept each part of nature just as it is. 

We are able to quiet the mental chatter that tries to pull us into the past or future. We are in the present moment while walking through a forest or a field of flowers. Our senses are open to taking in all that Mother Nature offers. We are fully available to the present moment. All cares and worries are set aside momentarily while we bask in the bliss of the perfect time that is now.

If we can escape from the judging mind while in nature, it may not be too idealistic to believe we can do the same with people. Perhaps we can see the perfection that each person has within him. We can recognize the basic goodness in each other. We can be present and authentic with our fellow beings.