Soft Chewy Center

Me at three

  When I was four I asked my mom’s boyfriend what he thought
  about death.  I guess I scared off a few of those guys, because Mom
  didn’t remarry until I was 11! Good thing because I loved my
  stepdad and he could handle the questions. Someone dear to me is
  facing the cancer journey and death is on my mind again. The
  thing about remembering my impermanence is that it keeps me in
  touch with my soft chewy center. We have a tendency to grow hard
  shells of protection, which may serve to get us through the day,
  especially in a culture that does not encourage us to express our
  deeper emotions.  I happen to be lucky, because as a counselor I get
  to be in touch with my soft chewy center all day long. In the heart space connection is welcome. Granted, it’s not always comfortable. Our tendency is to want to fix it - make the feeling or behavior go away. We ask (ourselves and others): “Why did you do that? Why can't I get this right?” But it’s not the “why’s” that help us, but the “what’s.”

“What’s going on right now?” “What are you feeling?” “Tell me what this brings up for you?”

Hwy 93

Part of the reason people avoid emotion is because the first thing that comes up is anger. You’ll see this on the road. There is a sense that if we let our feelings out, we will lose control, or things won't get accomplished. I hear my inner critic that I call Nasty: “Buck up. Pull it together. You should be so much farther along by now. There’s no time for contemplation. It’s time to ACT.” Nothing is really wrong with these statements, but the trouble is that when we power past deeper emotions that hold us trapped and stuck – it’s like we’re a fly pinned to a board at the thorax and flapping our wings.

The fields of Niwot

  Underneath the anger is a frightened
  child asking to be given voice, to be acknowledged in a world that is quick
  to give an answer and shut us down. The sad and scared child gets fed up
  and ends up stuck in a perpetual road rage tantrum. When the child is seen
  and heard and healed, she can focus and charge ahead, accomplishing
  goals in half the time because she is not hauling around a heavy board.

  Asking our emotions to stay put in the corner is like asking a two year old
  to sit still in a toy store; they’re bound to act out – whether it comes out as
  angry driving or body pain. It’s a lot easier to access these feelings in the
  presence of a loving witness – a counselor or coach trained in techniques
  that will help you not only feel, but also to calm down and heal. The more
  issues from the past clear out, the more resourced your body feels, which allows blood flow to the thinking brain and  decreases explosive outbursts.

A soft chewy center invites profound joy and deep connection with others.

I am Not My Body

How many people look in the mirror and think the reflected image is who they are? Do we ever have a perception of ourselves that is true? It is wonderfully ironic that getting in touch with the body is what enables us to see that we are not our bodies. We are so much more. In the practice of grounding and mindfulness, we quiet the mind and feel the spirit that we are. In that space we viscerally understand our connection to every other spirit on the planet.

The physical experience can be delicious whether at a favorite restaurant, playing with a beloved or zipping down a slide at Water World, but it does not define us. Our bodies are what cause us to appear separate from others. They are our containers, our temples, and yet, we are all joined by a higher purpose that is born of Love. In the stillness we experience the Love that is much bigger than anything we have felt with another person. It is not special or unique to one, but it is the great unifier of all. When author of A Course in Miracles says: “I am not a body. I am free” (Foundation of Inner Peace, 1977) she refers to the freedom we can receive from a shifted perception.

Let me back up. When our minds are in control, they organize, plan, judge, divide like rats. Don’t get me wrong – I appreciate rodents, but by only looking down at the rodent, we miss the elephant. Our

Where the Light Leads

I really like being in a body!  Lemon bars and enchiladas; ripe figs and Honey Crisp apples; stroking the soft coats of my big gray cats, the pink and orange of winter sunrises; the snug feel of suede half chaps and galloping pony along the back roads; slow kissing and the smell of roses; music, "This American Life" and crunching through dry fallen leaves; the little birds and plump squirrels more visible in the bare trees, the feeling in my heart on Christmas morning, my daughter’s faces… When I take time to dwell in my senses – to appreciate the detail of the world around me - I feel so alive and grateful. Knowing that my range of movement will someday be restricted inspires me to dance to capacity, to fill out space and be present every second to the process – the connection between hundredths of seconds: to be inside the movement and watching it at the same time. Anything can be done with deeper presence: cooking, sex, biking to work, massaging a friend's back or listening to our kids. Lately, I am most aware of my body while dancing - celebrating how much the collage of muscles, veins, bones, organs do all in a day.

Working with the newly bereaved through Hospice Care has only increased my sense of feeling blessed, but, too, it has confronted me with questions like: Who will be with me when I die? Who will be around to help me through it? Some of these people have lost partners who’ve been with them almost 50 years. They didn’t bargain for going it alone, and it breaks my heart to watch them grasp for hope in the confusion of grief.

  

Sure, I’ve listened to Death Cab for Cutie’s song, “What Sarah Said” that ends: “So, who’s going to watch you die?” many times, but witnessing people who have just lost their "other half" face these bigger questions, I am compelled to do the same. People can’t just drop everything, and sometimes it’s the people who we least expect who come through during hard times… or even, in the end.

Some spiritual folk say that the reason spirits hang around is because death is not that big of a transition and the spirits occasionally need guidance towards the light. Not knowing where the light will lead, sometimes it’s more comforting to remain in the attic of the beautiful home they had built. "They" suggest that when a person dies we say: “Your spirit just left your body. Go look for Aunt Shoshana” (or whomever they know who has already crossed over). Otherwise the person might hang around wondering why no one is speaking to them. I've also heard it said that death is a continuation of how we live and maybe if we die with presence, we won't need anyone pointing us to the light.

I wonder what it will feel like to dance on the other side. But, for now, I really like being in this body!

photo: Eliza Karlson

Does Guilt have a Home?

photo credit: Blogos

Some say guilt is necessary, that it keeps us from doing things we shouldn’t do and makes us do things we should do.

Really? It's useless.  (Sorry guilt. I know I’m pissing you off here.) We have a conscience to serve that purpose. Conscience is like Obi Wan Kenobi, Gandalf or Glinda. Guilt is like a raging, alcoholic father who never got his needs met. With whom would you rather hang out or align yourself? The term “guilty conscience” is odd. If a conscience is what helps us determine the best choices for ourselves why would our conscience be guilty if we choose something that does not serve us or the greater good? We would have just made a mistake. We make amends, forgive and be forgiven.

I’ve heard many people talk about their relationship with guilt. Some say: “Guilt keeps me in line.” (Sounds like Mr. Sheen talking.) Or I’ve heard: “I went to counseling, and I learned I was just going to have to always live with a low level of guilt in relationship to my mother.” WHY? What part of us believes that guilt is good and essential?

It’s like when we’re born some of us are signed up for the guilt club and we don’t realize we can get out. And, if you choose to cancel the
membership, other tribe members will sneer and boo, but when you
get a good distance away you will begin to run and never look back.

photo credit: LegalSchnauzer

The inner critic (in some spiritual circles referred to as “the ego”) punishes and clings. And if you’re not holding on too, it condemns you for not caring, for thinking you are better than you are, for being “selfish.” The freer we are, the more generous and compassionate we become. The clearer we are, the better we use our valuable time. The more honest we are, the less feelings get hurt and the more people who cling learn to take responsibility for their behavior. Conscience means doing something we might not otherwise do because it serves the greater good. Guilt means doing something we might not otherwise do and then resenting it.

Part of the reason we experience guilt is because an inner judge is sitting in the seat where our self observer is supposed to sit. We make impulsive decisions and judge ourselves (instead of making a thoughtful choice to begin with). We choose to take a mental health day off from work, but a co-worker finds out and chastises us; instead of standing up for ourselves with esteem and the knowledge that we will work twice as hard upon return, we agree with the inner judge and beat ourselves up. We cower and destroy the joy of nourishing ourselves. It’s like there’s a whole Supreme Court in our heads. No wonder our culture is losing its heart.

I’m not sure when my justices moved out and took residence elsewhere, but I believe that my health is a direct result. My body, mind, soul and conscience are healthier (and happier) without guilt. Personal freedom is a gift, a choice and a step towards Heaven on Earth. I am blessed and my hope is to help others take action to free themselves from thoughts and people who bind so that they may discover and celebrate their unique voices.

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