Monday, December 28, 2020
Sometimes
Friday, December 25, 2020
Glimpses of the Sacred
― Jiddu Krishnamurti
Monday, December 21, 2020
Winter Solstice Blessing
Thursday, December 17, 2020
sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you
From "Sweet Darkness"
By David Whyte
With the greatest respect for David Whyte, I'm going to change one small thing about this poem segment that makes me feel even better about it.
sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is not enough for you
💓
Sunday, December 13, 2020
A Well Meaning Riff on Platitudes
― Jeff Foster
― Matt Licata
Wouldn't it be great if we could will ourselves and others to change? That by simply telling people how they should be and act and feel, it would magically happen? That it could be as simple as saying Be Kind or Choose Happiness or Cultivate Gratitude and suddenly the world is transformed? Maybe if we just said it enough times, posted enough pretty pictures on social media with the words in bold, trendy fonts, like a good intention, like a mantra, like Dorothy clicking her shining red heals together, wala, finally, it will be accomplished.
Nowhere do I see the inanity of platitudes like I do when I think about my little three-year-old granddaughter. Like me, she feels her feelings in a very big way. But unlike when dealing with myself and my own feelings, it does not even cross my mind to try to change, either directly or indirectly, what she is experiencing and feeling. When she is sad, I would never tell her to choose happiness. When angry, I would not tell her to be kind. When she is melting down because she doesn't want to have to say goodbye, would I tell her not to be sad it's over, but to be glad that it happened, that we had the time together? Or that good things come to those who wait when she tells me how much she misses me coming over to their house? That everything happens for a reason, that time heals all wounds, that the only way out is through?
Personally, I have never found what I assume to be well-meaning platitudes helpful. For one thing, they bring out the precious little Stubborn One in me, the one that does not at all like to be told what to do. But much more importantly, they do not make me kinder or happier or more grateful, they in fact make me feel ashamed. And invisible. And bad and wrong. And yes, sometimes, angry.
Having emotions is what makes us human, and they don't change as we mature, though the acceptance of them does. As a culture, we don't do feelings well, and everywhere we turn these days we see their shadow side. Also, there is this idea, often especially in spiritual communities, that we should never entertain any of the so-called negative emotions. That somehow it is bad or we are bad if we allow ourselves to experience anger or rage or jealousy or fear or worry or resentment or sadness or grief or loneliness.
Last week I happened upon a wise psychologist I used to follow on the internet but had lost touch with when I quit facebook. I initially found him years ago through a spiritual teacher that I liked very much, one who did not, like so many other spiritual teachers, suggest that we "bypass" anything that we are feeling, but rather, that we consider treating anything that knocks on our door as a welcome guest.
Just writing that, suddenly all the tension that I didn't even know was in my body lets go and I breathe deeply. What if I treated everything that arises in my experience as a benevolent visitor? Oh my. What if everything, I mean everything that arises within me, no matter how uncomfortable, no matter how "unacceptable", is made welcome, is offered warmth and understanding, compassion even. Just like I somehow, through some miracle, innately do with my granddaughter.
Here's the difference, and why I was and am so drawn to the spiritual and emotional teachings of these two men: they are wholly in touch with their feminine essences; theirs is always an invitation, never a dictum. An appeal laden with curiosity. A wondering about what our uninvited guests might want to share with us; and an acknowledgment of the richness of the opportunity to enter our own beings, and to truly be with what is real and present in each moment.
Should we all be kinder? Of course. What a better world we would live in. But the notion that we can simply choose or be prodded there is misguided at its very core. True change comes from within, not by slapping a band-aid on our pain and suffering and calling it a day. Not only is there no compassion, no empathy, and ironically, no kindness in a platitude, but there is a great deal of arrogance. Just like there is arrogance, plus privilege when I suggest that we should all simply swing the door wide and admit one and all that stands, exhausted and forlorn, on our threshold. Welcoming the visitors, opening the door to all that asks to be experienced is not ever easy, nor simple. Not only is there little support for such a thing, but sometimes, oftentimes, our very survival has depended on not opening those doors. Sometimes what the guests offered felt totally overwhelming, was totally overwhelming. Or, we are simply indoctrinated that feeling feelings is bad, unless of course, they are the happy, positive, chipper feelings; not the full spectrum of utterly human emotions.
This morning I headed out for a walk and at the last minute grabbed my headphones so that I could listen to a podcast. Suddenly I am hearing Dr. Susan David, a Harvard researcher, speaking about emotional agility. In her work, she explained, she explores what it takes for us to be healthy human beings; to be healthy with our thoughts, our emotions, and our stories. As I walked beneath the tall redwoods that line the edge of my complex, I was so moved as she spoke about the power of seeing, both seeing ourselves and others, and about the African greeting, "Sawubona," which means I see you; I bring you into being. She spoke so eloquently about the damage that we do when we think of thoughts and emotions in terms of the polarities of positive and negative, good and bad; that these ideas and practices are actually avoidant and abandoning, both to ourselves and to others. She reiterates that our inner worlds are everything, and, that to deny our "beautiful human capacities," our full humanness in all that entails, actually makes us unhealthy and fragile, and makes us and our society less resilient, not more.
I am so in awe of the timing. All of these ideas have been swirling inside my head for days on end, this post half written, rewritten, re-visioned again and again and suddenly, there is the thing that brings it all together. Wow. Though still supplies no actual answers, no poetic ending to the story. But then I remembered reading Meagan Markle's powerful NY Times Op-Ed about loss last week, about what a difference the simple words Are You Okay? made in her life at a time that she was struggling. So, what if we begin simply by offering open doors instead of closed ones? What if we stopped telling people, including ourselves, how we should be, act, and feel, and instead we say simply, How Are You? Simple words that can change everything. Questions rather than pushy proclamations; where curiosity and wonder and caring are written in the spaces between the words. What if we understood that the only true kindness or happiness or gratitude or anything is that which arises organically from within? That what blocks that is human pain and sorrow and fear and heartbreak, not intention, that we are all searching for the same thing, not only relief from our suffering, but to truly be seen, and not only seen, but accepted, not only accepted but understood, and ultimately, of course, more than anything, to be loved.
So I ask, how are you my friends? Really, how are you?
In Love & Peace,
Debby
Wednesday, December 9, 2020
Monday, December 7, 2020
Saturday, December 5, 2020
The Sacred Darkness
As I'm guessing can be true for so many of us, this time of year can be hard for me. There are anniversaries of big losses, memories of holidays suddenly without loved ones or with loved ones we knew would no longer be with us by the next year. Birthdays of family members long passed. On top of that is the encroaching darkness, and this year, the pandemic; not only the anxiety and sorrow, the vast human suffering, the uncertainty and unknown, but all that we are called on to live without. Every night as the sun goes down, I am filled with such vulnerability, with so much sadness and sorrow that I just want to curl up in a ball and wish it all away.
Making art is a big part of what gets me through most days. And the great news there is that I am taking more risks and new things are happening that are very exciting. But I am also in a genuine struggle with what to do creatively as I have become deeply disenchanted with the only social media platform I am active on, where I share my art in a vibrant community of like-minded artists and am so nurtured and inspired by theirs in return.
This morning an unbelievable gift arrived in my inbox. An answer to a "prayer" I was not even aware of having uttered. As I read the invitation to the online retreat, Basking in the Radiant Darkness (The Radiant Darkness!!) from Vera de Chalambert, whose writings and teachings have so nurtured me over the last few years, my whole body went soft and tears came unbidden, moistening the corners of my eyes. Ah, yes. This. This is what I have been longing for. I had initially come across her when I found her powerful writing about the Holy Darkness of Trump being elected in 2016 and instantly knew she was someone whose work I greatly admired. Reading her email, the first I had seen from her in some time, I suddenly remembered during this time last year, as I grappled with the same seasonal sorrows as we got closer to the Solstice, an epiphany had arrived, and from that a commitment to embracing the darkness of this holy time from then on, only to forget while being swallowed up by it again this year.
Here is some of what she writes in her beautiful invitation to retreat, such eloquent, soul-infused words that bypassed my mind instantly, and settled deep into my being~
Today we
all are called to step bravely into the darkness of our times...
Intuitively
humans have
always known that there is an aspect of Reality that emerges
to mercifully guide and protect
us through the Dark Night the moment we
consent to our holy ordeal. And in every tradition
we look, it is the Eternal Feminine,
the Great Mother, the very ground of the Being, Herself
Darker than night,
that emerges to harness our spiritual crisis, assist our spiritual evolution,
initiate and transfigure the soul.
Don't rush in to fix it. Let life have you. Let the Mother have your bones for her holy Stew. She knows how to turn our hungry ghosts into allies. Our psychic lead into gold. Crumble and let Her transfigure. Invite the truth you have been keeping at bay. Feel what you don't want to feel. Hold fast to your tenderness. Let your brokenness shine. How else will you know that Love has already swallowed you, even when you fail, even when you struggle, even as you cry out into the dark. Darkness is Holy. Darkness is medicine. Do not discard this doorway into grace. Our wounds are holy passages. Our darkest, most desperate nights, ways to wholeness.*
Suddenly I find such clarity, such sense of purpose. I sign up for her online retreat which happens the next three Sundays leading up to the Solstice. And, I get it immediately that it is time to step back, to retreat in general, and to allow life to do its work. To let the Mother have my bones for her holy stew. To do my best to honor this sacred time of year, to try to honor every single divine feeling that wants to be let in and acknowledged. To nurture my soul and my spirit with all things that are warm, comforting, revered.
It's also so clear now that it is a good moment to step back from Instagram. It is so easy to lose myself there, to succumb to the likes and the features, the head-swelling highs, the torturous lows, and how easily the very ground shakes beneath the part of me that is still so vulnerable around my artistry. More and more I have become a very disgruntled user on its platform whose values could not be farther from my own as it becomes more and more commercial, and where the algorithms manipulate to their own purposes, often times, we now know, doing great harm. And even more, to have the intention to trust that at the end of my retreat, I will know what is the best thing going forward, returning to Instagram - whose absence would feel like such a big loss - or going in a new direction.
This morning it feels as though I have come home. Again. For the millionth time. That I have found again that place in me that knows how to trust not only life but especially the darkness. If being a gardener teaches me anything, it shows me, as the seasons turn year after year after year that there is no life without the dark; that all life begins sequestered in the rich, silent earth; all life needs the precious time and space to stop, to incubate; as people, to go within, to renew, to find the fertile ground of our being, and to rest and be reborn.
It's not that I expect the anguish to magically disappear, though anything is possible. But that's not even the point. Already I can feel a difference, and that difference is in how I relate with it, that difference is that I can feel the sacredness of this time. With that I can now lean in, even just a bit, and ritualize the coming dark each night. I can go outside and walk as evening arrives, watch the tall redwoods become mere shadows of themselves, then meld effortlessly with the vast night sky. When I come back home I can light a candle or some sage and put on music, classical or holiday or even Taylor Swift, whatever feels like it will sooth the ragged edges. I will, if that's what my body wants, curl up in a ball, though I will hope to do so tenderly, to remember that it is the Great Mother's lap that I lay myself upon, who receives me with the greatest love and compassion, and keen and wail the sorrow of normal life plus the ravages of 2020 if that's what the soul wants. Mostly, I will endeavor to remember that love has already swallowed me, even when I fail, even when I struggle, even when I cry out into the dark.
With great Love & Peace,
Debby
Click here for information on "Basking in the Radiant Dark" online retreat
Click here for Vera's powerful article written when Donald Trump won the election in 2016