Are You Willing to Tell the Truth?

"Courage is a heart word. The root of the word courage is cor -- the Latin word for heart. In one of its earliest forms, the word courage meant 'To speak one's mind by telling all one's heart.' Over time, this definition has changed, and today, we typically associate courage with heroic and brave deeds. But in my opinion, this definition fails to recognize the inner strength and level of commitment required for us to actually speak honestly and openly about our experiences -- good or bad. Speaking form the heart is what I think of as 'ordinary courage.'"  Brene Brown

This idea moves me to tears. Why? I feel that I have not been speaking from my heart and I want to but am scared to do so at the same time.

This week I was disappointed and discouraged. Discouraged means to be disheartened.We had a relatively small crowd on Sunday. I judged myself as being not good enough. My story is that if I were really doing my job as a Sunday speaker, the room would be packed.

Am I feeling sorry for myself?  Am I blaming the lack of attendance on something other than consciousness? But consciousness is all there is. Whose consciousness? Mine of course. The only thing I ever see is my own consciousness.

Am I measuring my worth by the number of chairs that are filled?  Somewhat.

What do I want?  I want a sanctuary full of life-long learners who are excited about the Truth of their being, who love to be with their spiritual community and who practice and depend upon the Science of Mind principles and the Presence of Love in their lives; I want to know that I make  a difference. 

Now I remember the starfish story: A man was out walking and came across a stretch of beach that was littered with thousands of starfish.The tide was receding and the starfish were beached on the vast expanse of sand. A boy was racing around the beach picking up a starfish and then throwing them into the deep water. The man shook his head at the uselessness of it all asked the boy what he was doing. The boy answered that he was throwing the starfish back into the water so they wouldn't die. The man tried to dissuade the boy, by saying that there were thousands of starfish and only one of him. He could not hope to make a difference. The boy kept doing what he was doing, threw the next starfish into the ocean and and replied, "It made  a difference to that one."

Make a Difference to that One

I want to know that my ministry is making  a difference to the people who participate. I want to know that I am enough. I am enough to inspire, enough to support, enough to enlighten. That my own practice inspires others. My health and vitality inspire others. My stories inspire others. My consciousness inspires others. I want others to be healed of false beliefs simply by being in the same room I am in. (Okay, that may be a fantasy!) I want to glow with Spirit's love, confidence and energy. I want to feel supported even when I make mistakes. I want to feel supported when everything looks good and also to remember I am doing my best when the "ship is sinking." I want to be open and available to connect with others. I want to know that my innermost fears are safe with the ones with whom I share them. I want to love myself no matter what.

I want to remember the times when one person's life was changed because I could see and speak the Truth for them. Honestly, there are many such times to remember. I want to remember that others have also felt discouraged, that I am not alone in my human experience. And I want to remember that the One Source is immediately available,"nearer than breathing closer than hands and feet." 

I want to know that I am contributing to life, that I am a giver and life responds to me through that givingness. I want to be fully engaged in my life not a spectator of it. I want to live whole-heartedly. I want to know that as a human being I have imperfections as well as strengths.

When I started writing, I thought that a person with courage would not be discouraged. A person with heart would never be disheartened. But now I am thinking that a person with courage would be willing to tell the truth. Admit the pain. And then she would get back up, dust herself off and start all over again.

What Lion Taught Me

I love the movies! Currently, I am preparing for the Oscar Party I will be attending Sunday afternoon by seeing some of the nominated movies.

Often movies allow us a peek into the psyche, motivation and beliefs of the characters. which in turn gives us an opportunity to examine our own beliefs and motivations. "Sad movies always make me cry." Happy movies make me cry too. I like going by myself because I am  not a "pretty cryer." In fact, I experience swollen red eyes and a lot of snot. There is not a pretty way to say that. I am a person who easily suspends disbelief and I welcome the characters into my heart. Then, if the movie has tender parts,  I am a blubbering mess by the end of the film.

No matter how many times I watch "A Wonderful Life," I cry, when people are praying for George Bailey,  when George is presented with a bucket of money, and when Zuzu explains that another angel got his wings, I weep. 

If you haven't seen the movie Lion, I invite you to watch it when you can. It is a true story of Saroo, an adorable five-year old boy from a small village in India who finds himself thousands of miles away from home, lost and alone in Calcutta, unable to communicate with the people he meets because they don't speak his native Hindi. He lives on the streets, sleeping on cardboard boxes, scavenging food from dumpsters and almost being sold for nefarious purposes. He finds himself in an over-crowded orphanage, where he is adopted by an Australian couple. He was a sweet child and his new parents were loving and kind. He seemed to have a happy, well cared-for childhood, and then as a young adult, triggered by some candy at an Indian party, he starts to reflect on his mother, brother and baby sister. He knows that his mother has been worried about him.he imagines that is brother has been looking for him every day for 25 years. He is homesick for his roots. 

Saroo had a deep love for both his biological mother  and his adoptive mother. He cared for his siblings both in Australia and in India. 

Against all odds, he was reunited with his Indian mother who expressed her deep gratitude to his Australian mother. It was  a happy ending.

So what moved within me that I was awash with tears for most of the movie? I empathized with the human condition. Saroo was so small in such a large city.  He was cold, hungry and alone, completely vulnerable and living on his instincts.

I have never been completely alone. I have never had to live on instinct. But I think I tap into a universal fear of "There isn't enough." Or what if there isn't enough?

I was counselling with someone recently and we together determined that old fears were driving this person, not to make bad decisions, but to torture himself with the possibilities of what could go wrong.These fears were irrational but were keeping my client awake at night. When he saw the benefit of acknowledging the fear and thanking it for the gifts it brought, he was able to let it be, to let it become something he noticed, no longer something he ran away from.

Going to movies by myself, helps me feel my feelings safely without being seen. Without being vulnerable. But what if being vulnerable is a way of being strong. What if what I was responding to was the courage and vulnerability of a small child. Maybe the small child within me needs to know she is safe to be herself. She is neither alone nor starving. If a five-year-old child could wander the streets of Calcutta and survive, I am certain that a mature woman can be vulnerable and even thrive.

What do you learn about yourself from the movies?

Are You Afraid of Defeat?

When I was in high school many decades ago, I memorized a poem by Robert Service, entitled, "Carry On" which I loved! The second verse is:

"And so in the strife of the battle of life,
It is easy to fight when you're winning;
It is easy to slave and starve and be brave
When the dawn of success is beginning,
But the man who can meet despair and defeat
With a cheer, there's the man of God's choosing;
The man who can fight to Heaven's own height,
Is the man who can fight when he's losing."

I probably don't need to explain that I have had a soft spot for the underdog. I was an idealistic kid. I have never been in many fights, and no physical ones,  so there really isn't a reason that I loved and remembered this poem, yet it appeals to my soul. 

It says to me, that there is good for me and I ought to have it. And I need to do my part in the finding and creation of it.

For me, the fight is mental not physical. It is the strength of mind and character needed to move steadily forward toward your highest dream regardless of setbacks. (They could be a set-up!). 

In The Alchemist, the boy was successful  in finding his treasure and having his love, but many times throughout his adventure, he could have been defeated by the circumstances he faced.The alchemist becomes  a mentor and friend and gives the boy this advice:

What you still need to know is this: before  a dream is realized the Soul of the World tests everything that was learned along the way. It does this not because it is evil, but so we can, in addition to realizing our dreams, master the lessons we've learned as we've moved toward that dream. That's the point at which most people give up. It's the point at which as we say in the language of the desert, one 'dies of thirst just when the palm trees have appeared on the horizon."

When the boy listened to his heart, that told him his strongest qualities were courage and enthusiasm. Learning from the protagonist in this story, we learn to carry on. 

The boy did not find the treasure at the pyramids, but he found an answer that led him to the treasure. Life is generous to those who pursue  their Personal Legend or Purpose.

The Boy at the Pyramids at Last

Compassion and Connection

The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another." Thomas Merton

This video is the Charter for Compassion and is beautiful to see all the different  ages cultures and regions represented.

It is the golden thread of truth running through all religions to care for others. In our journal today, we are encouraged to connect when we are feeling ashamed or defeated. Brene Brown, the current researcher on shame states that we must stop trying to be perfect. She further encourages us to stop trying to hide our imperfections from our loved ones but rather to have the courage to tell the truth about our experience to someone whom we can trust. Please reach out if you are feeling discouraged or alone. I would love to be of service as would all our ministerial staff and practitioners.

If you would like to be more compassionate, watch the following video, in which Jason Silva shows how we are hard-wired for compassion. He shows six-month old babies responding with compassion. He also shows us how we can increase our compassionate responses.

I trust that you will enjoy.

Seeing God Everywhere

Last night in Foundations class we were talking about the spiritual practices of Oneness and Forgiveness. Very easy concepts to understand and often difficult to apply to our lives. Starting a discussion seemed impossible. Then one man courageously said that the topics were difficult to talk about. His courageous disclosure gave the others permission to speak about their difficulties seeing oneness everywhere and in forgiving (especially themselves.) That kind of sharing is sacred and profound. Voices hushed and people spoke honestly about their experiences.

Each student was asked to bring a news story, one positive and one negative. then we read them and chose one about a couple who abandoned their three children in the woods and were later arrested for possession of crystal meth. The children , who like Hansel and Gretel, found their way out of the woods safely, were placed in protective custody. were found a couple of hours later. We then looked at how God showed up as all the characters in the story. The last part of the exercise was to brainstorm ways that this story could be something that was the best thing for our world. Ideas such as the children, now living in loving, safe homes, could become advocates for drug abstinence. the couple could get sober in the penitentiary and change their ways forever advocating better choices. Then we looked at our own biases and how they influenced our interpretation of the story. It was a great exercise which helped people see when they are judgmental about something it narrows their perception. 

One of the women, who has worked with the Zen Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hahn, was moved by the loving, respectful energy in the room. She said our process reminded her of being in a similar circle with him.
When we truly see God everywhere and in everyone, our lives are lived in peace.

The following is his poem, entitled, "Call Me By My True Names."

Call Me by My True Names

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second to be a bud on a spring branch, 

to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, learning to sing in my new nest, 

to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, in order to fear and to hope. 

The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,

and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time 

to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond, 

and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence, 

feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, 

and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,

who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate,

and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,

and I am the man who has to pay his "debt of blood" to, mypeople,

dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in allwalks of life.

My pain if like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names, 

so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, 

so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names, 

so I can wake up, 

and so the door of my heart can be left open, 

the door of compassion.

Thinking About Perfection and Practice

"Well, that sounds like courage" she said.

I remember when I first heard "it's yoga practice not yoga perfect."

It was such a revelation. It was releasing and demanding all at the same time.

It meant I could release the need to for perfection but I couldn't release being present. It meant that I might not be able to get into the pose and perfectly mimic the teacher but I could use each second to stay with my breath and be present with all of my attention.

I think that for many the drive for perfection is just a manifestation of the fear of criticism. Ironically perfection is no cure for criticism or the fear of criticism.

There is a misplaced drived for perfection as opposed to excellence. I do think that the quest for perfection has probably stopped more people in their tracks than any opposition they might find externally. When the goal is perfection there is a lot of work up and worry and very little launch.

I used to teach braille transcription. It's very detailed work and there are a lot of mistakes in the beginning. Many people loose their gumption around lesson 6 or 7 and it's because they feel they can't do the lessons perfectly.  I taught in a wide variety of settings from colleges, church basements and even prison and this was true with those with PhDs and those just earning their GEDs. Their likelihood of finishing the 20 lessons and completing their Library of Congress manuscript was solely their ability to not allow mistakes to discourage them.

I would post a sign:

It's far more important to be resilient than to be perfect.

One day Ella saw me packing my equipment up to teach and she asked what "resilient" meant. I said that it means "you continue to try with the same amount of enthusiasm."

The little 7 year old Ella turned to me and confidently said, "Well, that sounds like courage."

Yes, yes it does.

Where is Home?

Where do you call home?

I was born in  a tiny prairie village. I was raised in another tiny village. For my early years this was my home. I spent my young adult life on the prairies. Recently I returned to Saskatchewan to visit my mother. Especially in the summer, there is a great beauty and feeling of vastness there. I had forgotten how far one can see in the open prairies, the beautiful ever-changing skies and the constantly blowing wind.  I no longer call it home or even have a twinge of nostalgia about it. I love living in southern California. However, I also saw reflected old-fashioned values of kindness, compassion, courage and consideration.

There have been many places that have been home to my mother. Of course, the one I most strongly resonate with is a house that my dad designed and built (with lots of help) in the village of Conquest, Saskatchewan. From there, Mom and Dad moved to Saskatoon to a bungalow which had lots of memories for me. It was there that  I hosted my first large family dinner. I was 22 years old and with not much sense, invited my in-laws for Christmas. My parents, who were vacationing in California, loaned me their home. I cooked for 26 people that Christmas day...two meals dinner and supper.  The first turkey dinner was scheduled for noon. I think I finally served it at 1:30 PM. (I really missed my mother who would have been able to coach me through that ordeal.) Many years later my parents moved to a modest apartment and bought  a travel trailer in Mesa; they spent many years as snow-birds.  their home in Arizona was filled with friends, playing cards and talking about their most recent shuffleboard. games. Their home in Canada was a place the family gathered.  Even after my dad made his transition in 1993, Mom still lived six months in each place. It worked well for her while her friends were still in the trailer park and worked well for me because I could see her more often. Then Mom moved into a senior living apartment. Now she is living in a personal care home.

My mother's room overlooks a beautiful flower and vegetable garden in which she likes to walk and sit. Because people were raiding the garden, the home but a lock on the gates. They gave the code to the residents but my mother's eyesight is rapidly deteriorating so she was concerned that she couldn't see the numbers and letters on the lock. I suggested that she could memorize the placement of the numbers and letters. She did. Almost immediately she had it mastered.  Although one of her faculties is dimming, she used her memory to compensate. She felt great. I am reminded how important freedom and autonomy are to all of us.

In her new home, Mom is surrounded by 29 other seniors and provided for by care givers. She has three meals a day with her new friends. Sometimes they gather for conversation, sometimes they just sit quietly with one another. One morning when I returned to visit Mom she was excited to tell me that the previous night, her care giver, Anna, had danced for them. I didn't know what to imagine. Mom explained that Anna had just recently returned to work after knee and hip surgery. She brought some music with her and danced with joy, first by herself and then with  another resident. She simply was filled with joy of being alive. By dancing by herself, she gave permission to all the residents to fully be themselves. It was a beautiful gift she gave.

Mom was very sad to see me leave because I don't know when I will be able to return. Still she sees me on Skype almost daily. I am glad I got to see her new home, and meet her new friends.  I am very happy to be home, here in southern California where the palm trees remind me I am living my dream now!

Saskatoon in winter

That Sounds Like Courage To Me

"What I tell people is that it's far better to be resilient than to be perfect."

"What does resilient mean?" she asked.

"It means being ready to try again with full enthusiasm."

"Well, that sounds like courage to me."