Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes - Part 2

So the other night I was spending time with P after reading his bedtime story. We were lying on the bed comfortably, our heads touching. And as usual, P had a lot to say. Sometimes P can read my mind. If it had only happened once or maybe even just two or three times, I might put it off to coincidence. But it has happened so very many times that I no longer do. 

I remember reading a book called "Autobiography of a yogi", and in a certain section, the author is speaking about his time in India as a young boy. He was at a boy’s camp, maybe a sort of ashram, and they were forbidden to speak for some time. I don't remember all the details, but it was for more than an hour, probably at least a few days, if not a few weeks. He spoke in his book how initially it was difficult, tempting, and maybe at times frustrating. As time went on though, something amazing happened. The boys began having conversations and communicating without speaking. In other words, they could hear each other’s thoughts and respond in kind.

On this particular evening with P, he seemed to me to be acting a bit odd. It was around the time of the super moon. He had a funny, whimsical grin, as if everything was just a little bit comical, a sort of light-hearted giddiness. I had not noticed this quality in him before. As I lied next to him, I was pondering about going more or totally vegetarian. I have always tried to eat a healthy, varied diet with lots of veggies and fruits, and things that are good for you. At times I have been vegetarian or cut out all meat and just eaten fish. When I have been pregnant, I have generally just eaten what my body craves, and for the most part the same goes for nursing. Since nursing would probably be winding down within the next six or so months, these subjects were on my mind. I had already begun to cut back on the amount of meat, and many days would go by that were already vegetarian.

Suddenly P blurts out: "We should not eat pigs". "Really?", I say, just a little taken aback. “Why not?” He responds: "Because they scream when they die." "How do you know?" "I saw a program on the TV in France." Hmmm OK, "Well, what about cows?" "No." "Chickens?" "No, not chickens either, but fish are ok".

I am amazed. Where is this coming from? He just seems so all-knowing, still with that odd little comical look. Suddenly in an instant he looks like his usual self, he waits just a beat and then blurts out with all the huge emotion of a lion: "But the chicken sandwiches are soooo delicious!!" And there it is, from the mouth of my babe. There are these parts of our being that know what is right and good, what might be the best choices at the right times for our personal health, or perhaps just exercising a higher level of compassion and empathy to the animals or mother earth. And yet our very humanness is tempted to satisfy our base desires, be that physically, or emotionally. Both exist and co-exist and we swing back and forth between our knowing, and our being, and doing. Sometimes we are trying and other times letting go, because after all life is sooooo delicious!

A Modern Feminist's Christian View

The other day Calvin posted this tweet: "I swear to god if Mike Pence tries to regulate my uterus I will mail him a monthly bag of period blood." Wow! OK, breathe. Yes of course in its very nature it is meant to be provocative and shocking. For that end it works. But from a spiritual perspective is it really accomplishing the higher loftier goal that this poor pained woman is trying to achieve? I personally am not so sure. As grieved as I am by the "bad" behavior that this election season has brought forth and the true pain that many are feeling, I cannot help but come back to the same idea. Is the modality for channeling the pain, frustration and outrage the most productive one in achieving the very goal for which one is fighting?

All people experience fear. It may come in different colors, varying degrees and shades. We all face the age old existential dilemma and the very real concrete fear of death. As for this particular blog post, and in regards to the election, people are fearful on both sides, and rightly so, for good reason. We should fear returning to outdated modes of thinking that degrade and suppress a woman's power. We should be wary that if we let in hundreds of thousands of immigrants from societies that do not value the same values we do – e.g., women's rights, or freedom of speech – that there will be real repercussions.

Fear can be a productive catalyst to stand up for what one deems to be right and good. It can propel us to action to stand up for our deepest convictions and be an agent for change. I have friends in Paris who just weeks before the terrorist attacks were at the very restaurant that was hit. These same friends were planning a dinner out that evening and discussed this same restaurant with other friends of theirs (and mine) as a possible choice. Thankfully and perhaps a bit selfishly for me, they chose to eat elsewhere and remained in lockdown behind the closed bars until the wee hours of the morning. They were looking at social media on their phones, monitoring human butchering outside their door steps, for fear of leaving too hastily before the last acts were yet to be done.

I have another set of friends from Paris. They are a gay couple. A few years ago they bought a house in the Northern suburbs of Paris. They fixed up this house with their own hands, making it uniquely their own and turning the house into a home. Several years later this same gay couple told me they were moving. The neighborhood had become populated with people that did not value their secular French values of fraternity, liberty, and égalité. They were afraid for their lives, literally, and chose to move.

I come to see more and more, we are all fighting for the same values. We just prioritize what that means and how it plays out. Things like election season force us to choose between " the lesser of two evils" and so we reach down into the bellies of our core and find what speaks to us the most? How has my walk on this earth led me to the place I am now, why, and what does it all mean?

It just so happens that all of these same friends above would not favor shutting out immigrants, for fear of their own safety. Which is brave and noble indeed. As one friend above put it: "This is about civil rights, rule of law".

This recent Facebook post of this feminist’s tweet, and Calvin's reaction, stirred a discussion among men of varying views and opinions on the subject. Some were fighting for the life of the unborn child, others leaving the choice solely to the woman. The rhetoric from those who wanted this to be only a woman's choice said: “Stay out, this is not our place to say.” Another said: “I really don't know, but I trust that she does.” In other words, our opinion does not matter, for the woman has suffered and deserves to be "honored" at all costs, even if that cost means killing a child. Others chimed back: “No, these are human beings and they are being butchered, how can we make an arbitrary distinction about when it is OK to kill a human being, fine thirty seconds before birth, but not fine thirty seconds after?

Should we not honor our women by protecting them, and caring? Does not this very

language in this tweet say: “I have lost my way and am unable to be trusted?” (I will explain below). They are all valid points, albeit very different. They all care about their wives, sisters, daughters, and mothers.... a lot. These men are discussing civil rights and fighting for them in their own way. Women do not want to be shut down, and neither do men. It is a good and noble thing for a man to want to protect the life and well-being of his unborn child. We as women should not shut him up and down. It is also a good and noble thing for a man to trust a woman with her own freewill, and believe she will do what is right for her body and her life, in other words give her the benefit of the doubt and empower her to "fend for herself".

We live in society, a democracy with rules of law, everyone counts. I have one friend who is a true anarchist, but most people do believe and fight for rule of law. We all value our freewill, and well, we should – it is the gift that God has given us, not only to make choices in our secular daily walk, but also should we hear his call.

My response to this woman's post is one of frustration, and disappointment, and yes shock. In my view, we as women should not take that which is sacred, our own deep feminine nature and unique gifts and abilities as a woman and turn it into something vulgar to be used as a weapon against men who care. This is war, a war of ideologies. And in war we pull out all the stops, we are willing to die. We kill ourselves in order to attain what is deemed a loftier goal. Sometimes we kill ourselves just to be right.

I say let us stop the war and find peace. Let us confront our deepest darkest fears head

on. Let us listen to that small soft voice that whispers our truth, and call out our truths, and may those calls lead to right action. But let us follow Christ and cast out our fear with perfect love. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” (I John 4.18)

Honor the inner, but honor the outer. Honor to All. Sacrificing one for the other is missing the mark, a literal translation of sin, and sin causes death, not life. If we are fighting for our lives, let us fight a battle that can actually be won, not one that is destined to fail at all costs. My pain, is your pain. Pain is pain. Civil rights are civil rights.

Let us not commit spiritual suicide. Let us not quench our deep inner thirsts with vinegar. Rather, “Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” (Matt. 6.33)

The Lion and the Lamb

I have a longtime friend. I miss him right now. He is sweet and kind, gentle and funny. Oh sure, he has a witty side and can appreciate a bit of sarcasm and cynicism, but even in his sharpest sting, I feel his love and kindness. I miss him so much. I often think of him as one of the best Christians I know, although he is actually not a practicing Christian. Funny huh? But for me he displays the fruits of the spirit daily. I know he wrestles with darkness and pain, as we all do, but he does not bring his burdens to the world around him. Sometimes he is like one of those large puzzles – you are given a small puzzle piece of his inner being and he is sharing his pain, his struggle. But most times he is walking in joy. He shares his joy, and gives light to your struggles. He is a giver, not a taker; he is grateful when he’s given. He seeks to understand, not be understood; he seeks peace not conflict.

There were times in the past of this long and dear friendship where I have felt frustrated. I wanted more. I wanted to go deeper, dig to the bottom of the well of life and all its complexities. Till the soil of the nitty-gritty, get my hands full of mud and grit to then plant new seeds of understanding. But he would keep things simple and light, unwilling to join me in my digging. I used to think this was cowardice. Alas, time keeps passing and the years go by. The changing seasons have brought grey hairs, lined faces and saggy skin, and hopefully, just hopefully a little bit of wisdom too. I no longer see this unwillingness as cowardice. My eyes have grown weary and my sight has diminished.

At times when I have lost my humor, I feel frustrated that I need my glasses to read the directions on a pizza box. Grrr, argh... What petty annoyances. However, when I step into my older, wiser self, I find humor in the little incontinences (OK, that was actually a typo, but it is so funny I think I will keep it!). Yes, that too, childbearing is brutal. I mean, inconveniences, and now see my dear old friend as bravery and courage, but of a different kind. It takes a brave soldier, carrying their pack of personal trauma on their backs, to leave that for later, to trust that it will eventually be resolved at a later date. For now, the priority is to selflessly be there for the other. Trust in the unknown of a date or time, trust that all will be well. Now is the time to focus on the urgency to serve.

I know for a fact this friend received arrows in his life, not only from the outside world, but by his own nearest and dearest family and friends. He is exemplary of the courage of the lamb; he may be slaughtered, but he will not die. He is alive and well and doing his perfect work in the world.

Admittedly most of my other dear friends are lions. I love my lion friends because they too are brave and courageous as lions are; however, it is of another sort. They are also warm and nurturing. They may be lions, but they are also mamma bears. They have big hearts and are kings of the jungle. They are proud by nature, but this pride propels them into the world to fight for others. They will protect what they deem as right and true and rip to shreds the poor prey that walks in their path. Their hunger is righteousness, and they will pull out all the stops to achieve their lofty and noble goals. They too are soldiers, but of a different kind. They are the great protectors of mankind. I am still learning about my lion friends, and it has taken time to understand them also and their unique role and pride.

I was in a yoga class years ago, and the subject of ego came up from the teacher. She said the ego is a good thing. I had a moment of pause. Hmmm....I thought that the ego was a bad thing, that we were to aim to eradicate our ego for higher principles? Aren't we supposed to be egoless, enlightened beings? I am confused. She went on to explain that the ego propels us to do things, to accomplish things, and that is not a bad thing; it is there for a very real and good purpose. It is in the things that we do, propelled by our egos, that we learn and grow and ultimately walk through this life gaining the perspectives and wisdom that each of is here to gain. I think it has taken time to sink in, but I can today say: I get it.

As I look back and reflect on my life, I can see this to be so true. I thought at the time I was just doing this or that, perhaps following a desire, or a heart-led action of what I felt I wanted or "needed" to do at that time. Now I can see the bigger picture, I can see the greater purposes in the paths I walked and how they led me to the pearls of wisdom that I now possess. Hindsight is indeed twenty-twenty.

A powerful healer friend of mine told me that when we use phrases like "I need" that might be a clue that it is our ego speaking. So listen extra closely, our ego can and does indeed propel us to the things we are called to be and do. I would also say take heed to not bow down solely to our egos, for they can indeed lead us astray. There is a reason the ego gets a bad rap. It is a tightrope and a balancing act, or as our Lord says:

“Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.”

Sometimes clarity comes in an instant, and sometimes it takes years and years. Sometimes it is there for an instant and then gone. Sometimes when we let go completely and trust, it stays and seems effortless. I have an aria that I have been working on by Mozart for almost twenty years, yeah no lie. It's been said that Mozart did not like women. Anyone who knows his music knows his cunning sense of humor. It is said that when he had a particularly proud diva, he would purposely write near impossible, yet exquisitely beautiful pieces for them to sing. In my own experience with this particular aria, this has been my experience. I have turned this piece into more of a vocal exercise, but every now and again I pull it out and am on occasion asked to sing it. It brings up all my fears and worst vocal enemies, but I also love it deeply. I have nailed this piece maybe a couple of times when all the stars aligned. It demands extreme focus, steadiness of breath, depth of emotion, without going over the top – and for me, a great, great deal of trust and letting go. I try not to get discouraged. Even a world renowned musician who works with the very top singers in the world has said that he has heard it crash and burn at the Bastille (one of the best opera houses in the world). He then adds the added pressure of saying that I have the right voice and tools to do it perfectly. It is a hit or miss aria, a tightrope to be sure. Mozart may have been many things, but no one can argue his musical genius. Within his genius I continue to find more pearls of wisdom.

The lion and the lamb, two very different approaches, both valuable and wise. I think I have grown in understanding about the meaning of the lion and the lamb and their lying down in peace someday. This is in part by my dear friends and for them I am ever grateful.

The World's Gone Mad Part 3

The book of Revelation in the Bible is a bit of a mystery to most who are familiar with it and probably unfamiliar to many. I took a Bible study on Revelation a couple years ago. It is filled with vivid imagery of the "end times" when all humanity comes face to face with the great Creator and Lord of life. He is here to judge and make right all that is wrong. There will be a new world, and it will be glorious. But, the reckoning is intense and scary. Some might liken it to a "bad acid trip".

Some people view the Bible literally and some metaphorically. The Bible as a whole is designed to operate in different ways. Some parts are historical, some metaphorical, some allegorical, and some parts, "the voice of the people from time immemorial." The Psalms, in particular, speak to the deep realm and spectrum of emotions and human experience.

For me whether you take the bible literally or metaphorically is really a moot point. Let me explain. From a Yogic perspective our inner world shapes our outer world. In other words, our own perspective shapes our reality. As our perspective begins to broaden, so does our understanding of the events around us. In my opinion our feelings are a mere key to inform us of our own perspective. Our feelings can shape our thoughts, and our thoughts create our reality. What we think matters – a lot. “As a man thinks in his heart, so is he.” This is warning not only to our words and actions, but taking it down to the core, changing not just the outer man, but the deep, deep inner man. This is one of the reasons I reject the notion (from part one of this blog series) that our feelings are of supreme importance and deserve to dictate at all costs. I think it is a step in the wrong direction, a diving into sickness at all costs – all the while justifying the decent all the way down the rabbit hole.

Think Dante's Inferno. Allow me to clarify. Feelings are important, they inform. We should honor them as the sacred messengers who are informing us of our own deepest prejudices, wounds, and places where we are "stuck". Should we stifle them, repress them, shut them down, and up, just move on? Of course not. Should we wallow in them, make them the only thing that really matters, allow them to dictate our truth and shape reality? No, of course not. “There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” In other words, acknowledge them, honor them, explore them for the end goal of moving on and through. Everybody has their journey in this thing called life.

I cannot answer the questions of why I am " white privilege" and do not deal with the plight of racism. Whether a person of color experiences "real" or perceived racism, the feelings of pain are the same. I do not need to try to enter into their deep well of experience and convince them that what they feel is only a perception and not reality as they feel it. It is not my "job". My "job" on this planet as a spiritual being is to be a human being and show them empathy, kindness, compassion and ultimately love. This is what our Lord Christ taught as Truth incarnate, as well as a human being.

Getting closer to being walking Truth makes us more human, not less. If this same person comes to me asking for my perspective, I might step into one of the many roles I play in this walk called life (a friend, a teacher, a nurturing mother, a sister, etc.) and show them my perspective on the situation. Perhaps, if it is the right time, and place and situation, this wounded soul will be able to open a window to a new reality that is broader and kinder, a healing balm. It may well be that the situation they confronted is "true racism". There are “people that walk in darkness", like those who are racist from their own deep fallenness, But for the person who is confronting that, when their own inner wound has been healed and they know on a cellular level that they are not less than, these things will not affect them, or at least in the same way as before. It will no longer be putting salt on a wound, but rather a more tempered and legitimate, manageable reaction. Their core will not kick into panic in "fight or flight mode", but rather they will hear, see, and experience the situation much more objectively because they know the Truth. They may feel sadness for the fallen man, or man's darkness. After all, Christ sweat tears of blood in the garden of Gethsemane and experienced great sorrow for the state of mankind. This is part of the human experience, but he "did not take it personally".

So it all comes back to the basic question: Is there such a thing as objective reality or Truth? And if so, how can we embrace that objective reality and not fall into the trap of being convinced that our subjective perceptions are reality as it is. For me the answer lies in coming back daily to that objective Truth and then measuring that against what is felt and perceived. I was at a heart opening conference at the Himalayan Institute a couple years ago. We were handed out a sheet with some texts from the Ancient Indian scriptures (the Bhagavad Gita) as well as some quotes from the Bible. We started as a group to "work through" these texts, and there were especially strong rejection reactions when we came to Isaiah 45: 6-7: “There is none besides me; I am the LORD, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness, I make well-being and create calamity, I am the LORD, who does all these things.” This was followed on the page by Augustine’s interpretation:

All that happens to us in this world against our will (whether due to me or to other causes) happens to us only by the will of God, by the disposal of Providence, by His orders and under His guidance; and if from frailty of our understanding we cannot grasp the reason for some event, let us attribute it to divine Providence, show Him respect by accepting it from His hand, and believe firmly that He does not send it to us without cause.

“All that happens…” People were mad, even hostile. Some of the responses were: "That sounds just like the fundamentalist garbage I grew up with", "What about the poor, the needy the sick, the wars, the list goes on and on....????" Our master responded calmly. And being a master the tone and sea of emotions were calmed in an instant. He responded empathetically (hint hint) and said these are such noble pursuits and feelings (being concerned, wanting to change these situations) and softly went on.

I went to another conference at the institute where Swami Rama was teaching from a video (which had been taken before his death). He spoke about the book of Revelation. From his great wisdom and Yogic perspective, this is an inner experience that one has when they are able to pass from the depths of their fallenness into the fullness of Christ (he did not use those exact words, but that is my understanding) – when the last bit of Maya (illusion, darkness) has the light of Truth shined in its face.

Now weeks after the election people are still spinning. As I have heard so many times from different people, PC has gone out the window. For so very many salt is being poured on people's deep wounding. The fallen nature has reared its darkness and "it ain't pretty".

What I do know to be my personal truth and present perception is that this is not in the end about whether Donald Trump or HRC is president, but rather that there is a much greater plan at work by our Creator that will play out as it is meant to play out.

I had a conversation a few years back when I was in Yoga teacher training with my teacher of that course. I explained my own existential dilemma about my "role" in life. I have followed my heart and have been an artist, a mother, a teacher, a yogi, but are these my true calling? Should I be doing more for the state of humanity? Is there something bigger, something better that I should try to do and be? Her answer to me was so simple and so very helpful. She said your job is to do your daily practice. I can tell you, this changed my life and lined up the order of importance of my being.

Come to the Lord daily, consistently with seeking and He will guide your path. "Seek and ye shall find.” I did not have to suffer endless hours of questioning, tugging back and forth with this and that. Most times we over-complicate things so much. Being simple can seem to be so very complex. Time to follow the Nike slogan and "Just do it." What a burden lifted off my shoulders that I was carrying, when it needed only to be handed over to Him. I do not have to figure it all out, just like I do not have to be the moral judge of the world. That is his job, and he does it perfectly. The world we look at might not always seem so, but look very closely: Is that Him, or is that fallen man?

Come back to nature and see his perfect creation, and beauty. The Creator creates out of love, for that is his very nature. So "be ye therefore perfect even as the Father". Be love, be empathy, be compassion. Discard your fallen nature, gently, and embrace your divine nature daily. The end.

The World's Gone Made Part 2: The Shattering of the Glass Ceiling

Calvin came home from work the other day and told me about a colleague who "cannot do Thanksgiving" this year because of the election. Daily he comes home and tells me about the latest conversation, the varying topics that now divide her and her family. It was her husband who first brought up the notion that her parents "likely voted for Trump", and with a bit of probing the suggestion was made truth, and her world began to shatter.

Another friend of mine, a singer at church, told me on Sunday that he "cannot do Thanksgiving" this year. He was having a conversation with his parents: his daughters are crying, they are torn, but cannot be with grandparents who voted for Trump. A father's heart breaks; this year, they are a family in mourning and disarray.

The ceiling has been broken, but not in the way we thought. The ceiling of limited thinking has been pried open, and people are being forced into trying to understand the un-understandable – and it hurts. I have experienced my own deep pain, not only for the true sorrow of others’ pain and sadness that I feel in various shades, but also by some of my personal, deep wounds that were wrenched to the surface. When I tried to share my personal wounds, I was hit with a backlash of criticism, name calling, and judgment.

How can standing up for all women, saying I reject the outdated rhetoric that shames and blames women without even thinking garner so much hostility? I am baffled...truly. I used an article which resonated with what I had been feeling. Basically, you can reject what you believe Trump stands for without feeling the need to denigrate a woman to justify your stance.

Is this a defense of Melania Trump? No. Do I think that Melania's pictures, particularly the very sexualized ones, are a good model for young women? Do they represent sacred sexuality? Do they conform to many scriptures that advise a certain bodily purity? Of course not. Do I ideally think that this is good for the spirit and going to help produce fruits of the spirit? Most likely not. Many would argue that this kind of exploitation helps to destroy the spirit. Texts dating from thousands of years, from sages to the Bible, would perhaps confirm that. Am I here with such high arrogance and intelligence to dismiss these sacred texts? Absolutely not. In fact, I aim to the best of my ability to not only follow these very scriptures but to truly honor them.

On the other hand, am I the Creator of the universe, here to judge all of mankind? Thankfully not. For He is so much greater and bigger than any of this. I would also add much kinder and so, so, so, much more forgiving. I know, for I sit in his presence at times and feel his grace penetrate the depths of my being. That little girl inside was once told she was too fat, which then turned into not-good-enough, which got piled on with not-smart-enough, not-nice-enough, not-patient-enough. Enough, enough, enough! My mind is spinning. Don't worry, I can take control of this situation, I have got it. I will prove them wrong. I will be thinner; then I will be enough. I will be better than him or her, I will do and make and be, and, and, and… I am so very tired.

Then I sit with him again, basked in his perfect love, and he says: "Silly child, come rest with me, all is forgiven. In fact, there really was nothing to forgive, you have come to me and I embrace you fully just as you are.”

I read my feed again. What is so hard to understand about not blaming and shaming ALL women? I want to scream: “Why don't you get it?” The same way perhaps others of color or a certain religion are screaming: “Why can't you get it?” I want to say, “I do get it.” Yes, my pain is different than your pain. My walk in this world is not your walk in this world, but pain is pain, is pain. Where is the empathy, where is the compassion?

The shard of glass dug deeper into my already bleeding heart. Does anyone remember Mary Magdalene? Hmm, interesting thought. Melania Trump has become the archetype of the female prostitute, and people are eating it up. They have gone from insulting her mildly to holding up signs that now say: "Rape Melania". Is this the 2016 election, or is this some bad medieval dream? Again people, not about Melania Trump; this is about honoring the sacred feminine. "There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."

People are in pain from the daggers of glass, forcing us to examine our darkest thoughts and deepest wounds. Some people fear it is the end times. An acquaintance came up to me at church, someone I know (just a little). She said, “Come here”, and gave me a hug. "I see people being ugly to you, and I just want you to know I am here for you." My eyes well up. Kindness and love bring forth the well of tears that heal the soul.

Let us be healed with His sweet and perfect water that we may thirst no more. Let us meet the Samaritan woman at the well, not with judgment and condemnation but with empathy, understanding, and perhaps with a bit of extra effort – forgiveness. And may we truly find hope.

The World's Gone Mad (Part

So the election is over and the US of A has been turned on its head. We all thought Hillary would win, which really was not even a question. Time Magazine had a beautiful cover of Madam President ready for press. The inauguration party was planned; I saw an invitation on Facebook. Kaboom! Not so fast! And then the world went mad. “How could this possibly be?”, cried some 55 million people (plus some 200 thousand more people than the total Trump supporters).

Reality is not what we thought it was. People are shocked, amazed and in total turmoil and chaos. Yoga speaks about an inner world and an outer world. Ideally, we are not to be controlled and dominated by the outer world. One works daily through prayer and meditation to gain a steadier inner world. However, today's outer world tells us the opposite. It says the outer world rocks and controls us, sends us into a frenzy. It stirs our emotions which are put in the forefront, and our emotions dictate reality. It is a collective neurosis, and personal responsibility has gone out the window. Everyone but me is responsible, not only for how I feel, but also responsible to make it better. Universities have cancelled exams and created even more safe spaces, with chocolate, crayons and puppy hugging. Seriously? It sounds like preschool and would be rightly appropriate for preschool.

We send our little ones out into the world for the very first time from the safe space of mommy’s and daddy's home. We want them to feel comforted and alleviated of their fears. But college campuses? Isn't this the very last stop on their way out of mommy’s and daddy's home? Isn't this where they are to have heated discussions, the free exchange of ideas and then be ready to face the big bad world? Believe you me, it is indeed a big bad world out there, painfully so at times. Look at our dear mother nature and how fierce she can be. I can assure you, human nature is not much softer at times (you need only scroll down my Facebook feed). My homosexual, Buddhist friend is posting a particularly provocative nude picture of Melania Trump. He calls her a SLUT in capital letters! Really? I cannot believe my eyes, and my heart feels just even more heavy. Are not major tenets of your religion compassion and empathy? Now you, who so detest those who morally judge your lifestyle, feel so free to do so to Melania? She is a woman who has been given the gift of physical beauty, and who am I to say she should not use that gift to gain power and financial gains in the world? Do I think women's power resides solely in her beauty? Very obviously not, but it is indeed a power that women have, along with intelligence and skills they can develop.

Since when did the liberal, tolerant, left become so incredibly intolerant? What happened to "love trumps hate" now? Another friend says that she has come to understand what happened as follows: 55 million people who voted for Trump are infected with a disease that in due season will take its course and be revitalized into something fresh, new, and good, kind of like the changing of seasons in nature. Another goes to the oft-repeated rhetoric that 55 million people are racist, bigots, homophobic and xenophobic. Neither of these friends mentioned the 55 million number, but I do because I think it is important. One, because it is a huge number, and two because how can you possibly simplify 55 million people into a few epithets or one pseudo-science diagnosis?

Anyone who is close with a family member or one long-term friend can attest to how understanding another human being fully is a really, really complex, multi-layered, multi-faceted task. So without being insensitive to anyone's pain, can we all grow up and act like responsible adults here and try to wrap our mind around what is really going on?

I, for one, although truly disheartened by hate (on any side) am absolutely fascinated by some of the more productive dialogue going on. I have been gaining perspective into worlds I know nothing about. One article was written by a single mother, Muslim immigrant. She explained that she felt unsafe in the current administration, having escaped horrible oppression herself in her homeland and seeing it come to America. She wanted Islamic terrorists to be called out by name and be reassured that she would not be faced with the very things she aimed to flee. She also had some disappointing issues with her Obamacare, and in the end it became too expensive to continue. So very interesting, who would have "thunk" it? Another show on NPR talked about how the democratic party's "identity politics" failed them. Women spoke out about how they felt insulted that it was assumed they would vote for a woman just because she’s a woman. These women want to be treated as full-thinking, feeling individuals, not reduced down to a statistic because of their gender.

Such informative and interesting conversations, but also how nice. How nice that people are indeed not so simplistic that we can figure them out by some hypothetical statistic based on gender, or race, or even religion. Can we not rejoice in the complexity and mystery of the human spirit and stop labeling and going to war with those we don’t understand at first glance? Or is that too scary a space? Is it a safer space to rest within our small world, convicted of our own rightness? The other 55 million plus is just a label, and ultimately the enemy, baffling as that may be.

I saw on Facebook a video of Donald Trump from many years ago, various interviews where he spoke of his love for this country. He was calm, quiet-spirited and sincere. It was lovely to see him speak from his heart long before political campaigns. I find extremely appealing the old footage of Hillary Clinton when she was fresh out of college. There she seems so bright and vibrant, ready to change the world – so lovely to see, before the political campaigns. I saw an old footage of Bernie Sanders.  He was young and handsome and looked so sensitive and vulnerable. He spoke of human beings. He was expressing how we are all intimately connected and affect each other in powerful ways, ways we cannot fully comprehend. It was beautiful and moving, so long before the campaigns. I think often on that Bernie Sanders video, and it reminds me of great music that seems to penetrate to the depth of our souls – no barrier of skin, flesh and bones.

I think about times when I have felt particularly down and vulnerable and the very powerful effect that can be made by one who loves and supports you, who comes in and sits in your presence. Sometimes a word or even a touch begins to diminish that power. But when someone is just there – no agenda to make better, just there, present with you – something magical happens, something deep and penetrating and unexplainable in words, but worth a million in feeling.

Perspectives de Paris and Return to Richmond

Good morning October 26th.

What? Where did the summer and early fall go? Summer was kicked off with Soren's first birthday, which was immediately followed with a whirlwind of non-stop travel and family visits. I came back to a spinning fall, a giant opera monster project, and here I am coming up for air – much needed air, time to digest thoughts and emotions so many to number. It has occurred to me so many times how last summer was different than every other summer so far. Why? Because it was marked by Soren's first birthday. This little beautiful being has changed the course of what was to what is. From now on summer will always begin with Soren's birthday. It seems to be a simple thought on one level, but so profound on another. Sometimes it is these little changes that effect another small change and suddenly a world is transformed.

Traveling so much and seeing family in many places was wonderful and terrible too. I realized how my daily routine at home really facilitates a strong spiritual practice. Each moment has its place and is accounted for. There are bedtimes and school bus hours – they give us a framework and dead line, so to speak – to fit in what is important. When that is gone, there is a certain freedom, but a certain loss too – a loss of structure and discipline, which in short spurts is exhilarating and fun. But over time it can lead to a sense of ennui. I began to feel this at the end of summer after long days in Paris, many responsibilities of entertaining and training children all day, and tending to elderly grandparents who need shopping and meals. The tasks and activities were many, but without that clear framework there seemed to be less motivation and less satisfaction. I missed singing and writing and our two dogs. I had several moments of inspiration with thoughts on what to write, but somehow they were never realized. It is that funny little irony: when you have more time (but unstructured) one sometimes accomplishes much less than with a structured, busy schedule.

Nonetheless, it was a wonderful summer. We began at the beach in North Carolina, then moved on to Northern Michigan. On our way home we had an especially meaningful visit after so many years at my Aunt Suzanne's home. We were blessed with good food and many new plants. We came back to Richmond very briefly. I sang at a gala in DC, and we headed off to France. We did some mountain climbing in the Alps for two weeks and then finished up our trip in Paris for three weeks.

On one of these long summer days in Park Montsouris, I had a particularly interesting conversation with a young Muslim man. It was a beautiful day and I had set up my yoga mat and many toys for Soren on the grass nearby. Pierson was playing independently at a nearby playground and checking back from time to time. This young man was with a couple of buddies and they were chillin’ in the sun. One was playing Pokémon Go (all the rage in Paris). I began to talk with him about his faith and thoughts – thoughts on the terrorist attacks in particular. He said, as one might expect, that he did not agree with these terrorists, but he said a particularly telling statement: "Chacun pratique sa religion comme il le voient." Hmmm, “Each person practices his religion as he sees fit.” Yes, but...if they see fit to kill innocent people because of how they practice their religion, do we not have a certain responsibility to intervene? At what point do we allow freewill (his perspective), and at what point do we say not OK? He also told me that he believes that Donald Trump and Barrack Obama are both Zionists, by which he meant people who are aligned with the Jewish people want to control and dominate the world. This is coming from a young, healthy, vibrant, French Arab college student. Wow, my mind is blown! Imagine trying to convince anyone in this country, particularly now in this acrimonious voting season, that Trump and Obama are actually in cahoots. To be honest, I am not sure what it all means, but it is a testament to how our own perspectives form in part our experience of reality, and how vastly different those realities can be.

Back in Richmond I continued to pour my heart and soul into the monster opera. The monster is not kind and nurturing and supportive. The monster takes and takes and asks for more. In the end he notices the lacunas first and criticizes what is wrong, not noticing all the rights and the goods. I push through to the end. There is success but not without a price. I feel tangled inside. My small, broken child wants to be loved and supported and told I have your back. I feel unsettled, unresolved. I am constantly apologizing, trying to please everyone and yet I feel a lack of respect, under-appreciated.

I reached out to a spiritual advisor at the end of it all. Now that the monster is gone, I want a new challenge – maybe the gold standard 10 mala bead prayers a day. He replies with a small bit of advice: "It should come from an inner inspiration." There it is, put so simply yet just what I needed to hear in that moment. The window opens, the air is fresh and pure. I can see clearly once again. I have been giving, reaching and striving, pouring out and desiring to be filled up, and yet I am left empty, dissatisfied, and perhaps a bit sad. I sit, close my eyes and begin my deep prayers. My mind and breath soften, and gently I am coaxed and lulled back to the truth. My support is there; it is holding me within. It was always there, but I let it go. I was looking outside, caught in the illusion for what can only truly be found within. He is filling me up, holding me, supporting me, loving me. My Lord never left me, and others cannot take his place. The more I long outside, the lonelier I become. I know this, but I forget. I come back and I am reminded of the truth once again. All the longed-for explanations, empathetic comments and acts of kindness disappear. I am fine. I do not need from the outside world right now, and I can rest within. I am home once again.

The Hamster Wheel

So life always feels pretty busy these days. Lately though it has felt more than busy. At times I feel the frantic pace of running from one task to the next like that of a hamster on its wheel. Among the usual (two kids, home, yoga, church and opera), has been a visit from my 94-year-old grandparents. The timing just so happened that they are here during the final days before the big spring show opens. I could also add that this particular show seemed to be wrought with a significant amount of unforeseen difficulties, each one requiring time, energy, lots of extra emails and a certain amount of emotional babysitting.

My toddler seems to have amped up his toddlerhood-ness, both in his ability to get into new perils, and his separation anxiety. He can now stand on tiptoe. His reach is just that little bit longer. This opens up a whole world of new objects to touch, scratch and ideally pull onto himself or the floor creating a crash – the louder the better, so much more satisfying! The separation anxiety has turned into the scenario that he is playing happily, perfectly content, but the moment he sees me he begins to cry and beg to be picked up and held. I literally hide from my baby so he will keep playing happily, all the while trying to survey him without him being able to catch my view. At night my boob is his sleep aid. Calvin has coined him my baby husband, and me his mamma wife.

I usually teach one yoga class a week and occasionally sub, but these last few weeks I am teaching two or three. I feel obliged to say yes because we too are planning our summer vacations, and I will want my fellow Yoginis to feel charitable towards me and willing to return the favor.

I have been and am enjoying having my grandparents here. It is nice to have their company. I especially enjoy having tea with them in the afternoons. Truth be told though, it is more work. I set up and plan three meals a day and prepare medications. I need to plan meals that are not too spicy (much to my husband’s chagrin) and that are easy to chew! On days where we were gone long hours because of the show, I was not only packing lunches and snacks for us, but brainstorming how best to assure a hot meal for them, without worrying about the house being burned down upon return. Turns out the crockpot became my new best friend.

All this not to complain. It is what it is, just more to do and plan. The last show was last Saturday, and on Sunday Calvin and I performed at church. It is Monday, and I am breathing a sigh of relief. Life is still busy, but less so, and I am reflecting back on these past few weeks. Pierson got to play a gingerbread boy and an angel in the show. He begged me for the last how to be an echo too, and he was. He said to me yesterday afternoon, "I am sad the show is over. Hansel and Gretel was my favorite Capitol Opera Richmond show." My heart smiled. All the headaches of that show were dissolved in an instant -- my six-year-old boy loves opera!

I realized during this busy time that the faster you run on the wheel, the faster it goes, the more tasks you set before you, the more there will be. I still managed to make time daily for a minimum meditation, and I trust through what I am told and hope that it makes a difference. But deep inside I know how much more it can be when it is not just another action checked off of a to-do list.

I felt the strong sense of futility at times, like cleaning up Soren's orchestra of pots and pans for the 100th time, full well knowing it would reappear shortly, yet still savoring those 45 seconds of happy play.

Some mornings after coffee I feel like superwoman: laundry (check), unload dishwasher (check), prepare breakfast (check), task, task, task (check, check, check)! Then four o'clock rolls around and I feel done. Sounds feel aggressive. The dog barks hysterically at a passerby just as Soren was getting to sleep. I calm the baby down and just then P storms in, slams the door. The dog goes crazy again. P demands in his loudest outdoor voice his latest material needs for his newest experiment. "I can't help you now P, I am trying to get the baby to sleep." P whines and protests, slams the door, the dog goes crazy, the baby cries louder. Mami comes in and tries "tapper les petits main", which only makes him scream more for fear she will try to take him from me. He needs sleep, not stimulation. Right on cue, a grumpy Papi will chime in: "Somebody take care of that child, I am thirsty, someone get me a drink, and when are we going back to Paris?" The wheel is spinning so fast it is impossible to step off.

My legs are breaking beneath me. It is another day. Heading home from the gym for lunch, Soren falls asleep in the car -- perfect. I move his seat in the sitting room and shut the door to prepare omelets for myself and the grandparents. I have a moment of calm to savor.... but I don't. My mind is active and my gestures are quick. Get the eggs, quick, quietly close refrigerator. Quick! mix, chop, cook, serve, gobble. No enjoyment of the calm, the baby is still sleeping. I have forgotten how to relax, the wheel is still spinning full force and I longer know how to slow it down and enjoy the moment. I stop and breathe and think. I must stop the wheel and learn to walk at a moderate pace and simply step off to sit when needed. I must take the time to look in my children's eyes when they have a need, not to feel annoyed that they are merely getting in the way of yet another task. The tasks are endless, but their sweet innocence is fleeting and worth soaking in.

My husband deserves a happier wife, not one who resents a touch that gets in the way of a task, the task can wait. Maybe someday he will no longer try to caress a shoulder knowing it will be met with annoyance. Maybe someday he will be gone too soon, and I will look back and wish I had taken thirty seconds away from preparing dinner to entertain a hug. We are told and it is true, these things will be eaten by moths, turned to dust. It is nice to look at a pretty home that is clean and orderly, but a little mess, or dinner an hour later is ok too.

The wheel can turn, but I want to step on and step off. I want to come back to what matters most. Intention and awareness are the first steps toward change. I no longer want to buy into the illusion that accomplishing more tasks makes for a profitable day. I want to embrace the truth of what truly holds significance and bring it back to the forefront. The wheel is flowing at a comforting pace, it has learned to rock and lilt, back and forth, like the ebb and flow of the ocean, or a hammock blowing in the breeze. I am here, present, no longer living in the racing, spinning, mind. Life is perfect and I am grateful for good health and blessings. And so the story goes on.

The Subtle Superhero: Humility

So about a month or so ago was Pierson's talent show. He did a beautiful job with his own composition, sung once in English, followed by French. It was a fun evening filled with song, dance, martial arts, pogo stick jumping and instrumental playing. There were costumes and glow sticks and all was well. Parents were required to volunteer in some capacity throughout the process of several rehearsals before the big night. I volunteered for the dress rehearsal. I was never really given a specific task, but I tried to help reign in the mayhem of kids who were stationed in the gym until the march to the theater, then back to the gym at intermission and back to the theater for the second half. I had the pleasure of viewing all the acts before the big night. I got a feel for the magnitude of putting together this event, just over two hours of acts with MCs introducing each number, adding jokes and humor as they did so.

One act struck me though. It was a strange song called "Watch Me (Whip / Nae Nae)”. Two girls came out, one with a whip-it t-shirt, the other with a Nae Nae t-shirt. They each had a microphone and sang this repetitive song, while sort of waving one arm overhead in a kind of lasso motion. I can't tell you exactly what it was that "rubbed me the wrong way", but it just felt kind of off. I told Calvin there seems to be something weird about this song, with its repetitive "watch me" lyrics and strong beat. I said, "it just seems perverted". That was my instinct, and then I left it at that. Calvin however, perhaps sensing something himself, took things a bit further. The next day after the talent show, he began researching online what exactly this whip / nae nae thing was all about.

Turns out a mother's intuition was right on. An adequate description of this song might be: "Verbal pornography masked in urban euphemisms". If you really want to understand click here.  This song getting into an elementary school talent show is innocent enough. The PTA volunteers who put this together, possibly like me, had an initial intuition, and then seeing the many tasks at hand promptly ignored it and moved on to get a show up. But here is where the story gets interesting. Calvin decided to illuminate both the principle and the PTA organizers on the true, grotesque meaning of this song and its inappropriateness in a school talent show. He did not do this in any sort of mean-spirited way, or in an effort to make anyone feel bad, merely out of his own shock at the true meaning of the song and the conviction that we as parents and educators should not be complicit in allowing our kids to learn such songs, lyrics and dance by rote, once we do know what they are saying. He wrote a kind email thanking them for their hard work in putting together such an event, also for the personal time they took to work with Pierson, and then mentioned our mutual intuition, which led to research and then what this song is really about.

He promptly received.......absolutely nothing!! A day or so went by and so Calvin decided, well if the people in charge do not care, perhaps there are other parents who would care, or should care to know what their children are being innocently indoctrinated with while they have no idea what they are actually saying, and what their dance moves are designed to be suggesting. He put a post on FB about the song, its true meaning, and mentioning that he came to know this song through his six-year-old son's school talent show. He tagged the PTA. Suddenly within minutes he had emails coming in.

Hmmm,..Very interesting. When something was exposed, suddenly it became very important, yet when it was still in secret, it did not merit a response. The first response was not from the two organizers of the show, but rather from the PTA president, who responded by avoiding the issue altogether and a response that could even possibly be construed as condescending - something like, I saw your post and I appreciate hearing an audience member’s feedback. What???? This was not about audience feedback. It was about whether this song is appropriate for a school talent show.

The next response was more defensive, something along the lines of "it seemed to me to be presented innocently enough". Well once again, the question is not how it was presented (although the actual "lassoing" gesture with which it was presented is supposed to be representing a man holding a woman by the hair whipping her head around while he "does her" from behind (hence the whip it, in case you did not watch the link)). But actually even that is beside the point. No one would condone a song about killing blacks and Jews in ovens, set in Chinese to a cool beat, just because they did not understand the lyrics. Once one is made aware of what the lyrics (and in this case gestures) do mean, it is obvious anyone would say that is reprehensible and obviously inappropriate for an elementary school talent show. Or for that matter, inappropriate for anyone. Yet these women were digging their heels in, insisting there was nothing wrong!

And here is where I come to the downfall of pride and the superpower of humility. Things could have been so simple. A mere acknowledgement from the initial personal email, and the whole thing would have been done with. It could have gone something like: "Oh my goodness, I had no idea the song meant those things. Of course it is inappropriate for children. Thank you for letting me know that. In the future we will try to be more careful." Done. I am sure Calvin would have responded with a kind word (just wanted you to be aware), and perhaps there would have been a mutual sharing of the shock at the music industry targeting children.

Instead, the information went on FB, and in turn the women felt shamed, and then proceeded to claim there was nothing wrong with the song being in the show. The final email to Calvin said something like "how dare you...how dare you turn something beautiful into something awful and hurtful. We worked our asses off on this show".

This was never about the women's work, time, efforts or even the success of the show; yet this is what it turned into in their prideful minds. This was about revealing the truth of the meaning and intent of a song -- one three-minute song in a two-hour show. In this case the truth hurts. But should we not want to know the truth? Should we not desire to be illumined as opposed to remaining ignorant and safe, all the while perpetuating unwholesome language, indoctrinating our children that a male chauvinist dominating sexuality and a women having a duff (designated ugly fat friend, so she can seem more appealing) are ideas that are just fine?

A humble heart holds such immense power. It is free and safe because nothing can knock it over or break it down. It is flexible and flowing. When confronted with even the most egregious error, it responds with gratitude for the illumination where there was darkness. It wants to be exposed so that it can shine more brightly. It is like a stream that flows, freely. Rocks and twigs may enter in its path, and it will divide or roll over with ease. The water is clean because it moves and it is wholesome to drink.

Pride is like a stagnant water, trying to hold. Standing still it digs in, and the muddy floor gets stirred to cloud the water more. Plants and weeds begin to take root trying to build a wall. Now we have to uproot the weeds to even make way for the light. The stronger the hold the more complex and convoluted things become. The light is hidden, and lost. Humility is like an armor that protects, but it is soft and subtle; it's as if you are embedded in a cottony cloud, and if anyone aims to strike, it goes right through. There is nowhere to catch. It is beautiful and powerful and so simple, like all of God's gifts.

Wisdom from the Mouth of Babes

So the idea of our children being our teachers is very popular these days.

O LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes, to still the enemy and the avenger. (Psalm 8: 1-2)

Jesus quotes this in Matthew's gospel:

And the blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he healed them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the wonderful things that he did, and the children crying out in the temple, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” they were indignant, and they said to him, “Do you hear what these are saying?” And Jesus said to them, “Yes; have you never read, “‘Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise’?” (Matt. 21: 14-16)

I don't disagree completely, but I do think there is a balance to be found. I am glad that we are in an age where children are honored as little beings and are respected enough to have their voices heard. When P responds confidently out loud, or asks a bold question amidst an adult conversation, my heart smiles. I was taught children were to be seen and not heard. I had a fear to express myself freely amidst elders, and even to this day sometimes it takes an act of courage to just be free to be me. That being said, for me it is equally obvious that children need, desire and thrive with clear boundaries and strong examples. They are not all enlightened little Buddhas to be worshiped at every turn. They test and try the patience of those who love them most, and basic virtues like sharing, speaking kindly, waiting your turn, etcetera, need to be taught and practiced again and again. Hopefully we do our best to model good behavior and are not too proud to admit when we have failed to do so. We can then have the gift to model humility.

I really love the authentic originality of pet names that children end up with from their mommies and families. P has gone from bump, to bumpy, P pod, bug and lately "just P". When Soren was only a few months old, P wanted to give him a nickname. Soren had particularly sharp little nails and seemed to like to scratch things to feel them, kind of like nails on a chalkboard for his mommy and daddy! P came up with the nickname Rosefingers. I loved it, so sweet. A few months later when Soren had usurped P's sippy cup with his usual grape juice / water mix, P came around the corner asking where his cup had gone. I told him Soren had it. He replied so candidly and honestly in a low gravelly voice: "Scratchy little hands". I laughed so hard. It was true of course, but in that moment Rosefingers had become a disgruntled scratchy little hands. Isn't it funny how easily our hearts can turn when our will is crossed? Something originally born out of love and affection turns into the worst of criticisms. Why are our hearts so fickle? Needless to say "Scratchy little hands" has stuck and Calvin and I use it regularly with great love towards our little monster (more recently coined with me and P, monster nuggles). Monster because he is into everything, and nuggles from P, for his unique term for Eskimo kisses, which I often give to him, and now he gives to his little brother.

I had another interesting learning moment from P the other morning on our way to church. We were talking en français about his talent show. He used the word practicer instead of répéter. We proceeded to get into a back-and-forth, P absolutely insisting it was a word and me telling him it was not, then giving him a high and mighty lecture about how I care about him and that is why I am insistent – ‘that there may be those that will let mistakes go and continue, and that you will think you are so great when you are not, and that those who really invest the time and energy to try to teach you what is right are those that care and want your best. In fact, instead of arguing back, you should be thankful.’ Calvin told me to drop it, which I did. P got the last word in insisting that practicer was indeed a real word. We went into church and per our usual routine I set him up with some breakfast food in the Parrish hall and sat for a moment with him before needing to head into the choir room to robe. Suddenly it dawned on me clear as light. He is thinking of pratiquer, and it would seem similar in meaning to répéter! In that moment I was so grateful for his insistence, not shutting down like I would have. He stood up for something he knew, and maybe it took ten repetitions to click. Maybe he was being a little stubborn, but so was I. I apologized and he became his sweetest self. We both laughed about what he was trying to say and me not getting it. We hugged and he said “you are the best mommy ever”. It was one of those learning/teaching moments from my P and I felt grateful.

Lastly I think about little monster nugggles. This morning I was trying to get some emails done. Soren was in his high chair complaining, and I took his little musical toy and put it in front of him. He was distracted and forgot for a moment. Of course, this is a trick all moms use. When he grasps on to something he should not and screams bloody murder when you remove it, you quickly replace it with something else. The law of distraction. This morning however it hit me. As adults, we have an issue or a problem and we focus on it. We go over and over it in our minds, replaying the tapes. Then we call our moms, girlfriends, husbands and go over it again. Spiritually we are called to focus not on things of this world but things above.

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. Colossians 3: 1-3

We are actually told: stop focusing over and over on this or that. The more energy we put on it, the stronger it will become. Cognitive therapy and the placebo effect remind us that our thoughts indeed do form our reality.

So thank you monster nuggles; and Master P for reminding me about the laws of distractions, the power of persistence in your truth, not being afraid to be, but most of all thank you for being my sweet loves and blessing me in this walk of life. I am so honored to be your mommy and pray daily that I can teach you wisdom and joy, and remain childlike and open enough to continue listening and learning from you.

Relationships Are Complicated

As I prepared to write this blog post, ideas swirled around in my mind. I knew the general direction and ideas I wanted to talk about, yet kept finding myself a bit confused, dreamy, uncertain. Usually the ideas swirl. I talk and think them through in my mind, and after a bit of time they coalesce into a linear fashion, and I am ready to sit and write. But this was different. Every time I felt close, something else would drift in, shift and again feel a bit unsteady, just not quite clear or linear. Then I had an epiphany. The crux of this blog post is about relationships, and as the saying goes, ‘relationships are complicated’.

In relationships there is inevitably the other, and the other always remains a bit unknown. There it is: the unknown, and the unknown can be scary, and unclear. Venturing willingly into the unknown requires an act of faith. I admit it, I tend to want to be an island. I am not sure exactly where it comes from, but I see me as usual in my P. He views help as an insult telling him he is not quite good enough, strong enough, able enough. He clenches his little jaw, grumbles an irritated groan and presses on, rejecting love coming his way. We can have a rational conversation about it, and he understands in his mind that the one who wants to help is trying to do good, not harm. But his little, persistent self wants the satisfaction of doing it himself, the satisfaction of a merit accomplished only through himself. Of course upon close examination that is really an illusion, as every circumstance has a myriad of factors that lead up to it and through it, and inevitably the other is somehow on some level part of the whole. But that is beside the point for now.

We all have relationships both to people and things and are in constant relationship to the world around us. We breathe the air, drink the water, and eat from the fruits of Mother Earth. Some relationships seem so simple and easy. They naturally flow gracefully, no need to explain or elucidate. Sometimes just a glance and all is understood. Then there are the others that seem so difficult. You don't even really understand why. It seems even the simplest of suggestions or acts gets confused, muddled. You press through the sludge, explanation after explanation, often ending up farther apart and more confused than where you started. It is a mystery.

God calls us to be in relationship with Himself through his Son. God Himself is in a perpetual relationship, the Trinity. We have God the Father. For me this is the aspect that is so grand, so great it is almost incomprehensible. We glimpse a sense through the great works of art he has created in his creation. We admire the glorious handiwork of a sunset on the ocean, the sheer greatness of the mountains, or a starlit summer sky, and his wonder and majesty are truly revealed. But fostering a relationship here seems a little abstract. The Holy Spirit is for me a mysterious God essence, kind of like the raw material of God, before the word and manifestation, like an essential oil that kindles and awakens our senses subtlety to a truth about to be revealed. Then you have the Son. The Son who is of one being with the Father, who the Father sent out of love so that we CAN know him.

God is love, and an island is not love; an island is fear. Sure we may sense a lighter step when we are on our own only worrying about our own selves, but at some point this system inevitably breaks down and we see the illusion for what it is. We cannot bear the weights of the world on our own shoulders, try as we might. We can know Christ because he is like us in so many ways. Being fully human, we can understand his words, his actions, and his feelings, which this allows us to connect, to relate to Christ the man. But as He is also God, somewhere in this sacred relationship our eyes are opened to something very different about this God-man. He is like us yes, but also not like us, being one substance with the Father. And being without sin, we see a purity in Him and in his words and actions. We see something we do know: “What may be known of God is manifest in them, for God has shown it to them.” (Rom. 1: 19) We also see something we desire, admire, and yet it feels a bit distant, a little out of reach in our daily lives. We come back to Him because he is beautiful, perfect, strong and righteous in equal measure. Yes, now we are beginning to see and know God through Him. He shows us how our world, our thoughts and our actions are upside down. Our priorities are reversed. He says, ‘stop trying to be an island, for you were never meant to be so’. He says: ‘come to me, drink my blood, eat my body, become like me; become one body with me’. What a gift the invitation to his table is, so inviting and yet...It takes an act of faith.

What will happen when I let down the wall that protects me, when I become vulnerable to the unknown? This is the way it's always been, and I have survived thus far. If I don't do it myself, how will it be done right? When God asks Abraham to give up his son, so dear to him, what is really going on here? Do we have a cruel God demanding human blood for satisfaction? Of course not, the Bible tells us God is love. He sent his Son out of love for us. He wants us to be first and foremost in relationship with him. “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal” (Matt. 6: 19). In other words, we are to shift our focus off of our island and onto Him. We are asked to be there vulnerable and ready to receive what this relationship will bring. We must take off our masks of the person that we want to show the world and be there without pretense or excuse just as we are. And that is no easy task. As we do this though the irony is we become more of who we truly are, who we are meant to be. We can now love our neighbor as ourselves, because we are no longer focused on showing our neighbor how smart, great, fit, intelligent (the list goes on) we are. We are helping the other not to build up our own inflated ego, or damaged self-esteem, but rather simply because it is the right thing to do. End of story, no earning some higher stature -- just because. Through right relationship with the Father, we become in right relationship to the World. But yes, it takes an act of faith.