K is for kinfolk

I'm on a family visit, helping out my ailing parents find more supportive living arrangements. I could not be here and be truly of service to my mom and dad without the loving support of My People. Most immediately, I mean my beloved younger sister and her wild and wonderful husband, my brother-in-law. We plan these trips together to offer mutual support and have fun and kick ass on cleaning our family's homestead to prepare it for sale. My brother and older sister do the same, forming the elder sibs team. Not only am I lucky enough to be related by blood and by marriage to these amazing people, I also get to enjoy them as my chosen kith and kin. Friends who are also relatives are a double blessing.

What would we do without our kinfolk, those people close to us, whose souls sing with ours? When I stop to think of the circles of kin I have, it's like the water rippling out from the center of a lake, where I've cast a stone of longing for belonging.  My man, my mate, is my main anchor back home. My parents, with whom I feel closest than I ever have, are another anchor for me now.  (Perhaps it's because I'm now interested in being of service to them, rather than obsessing about what I didn't get from them when I was a young one. Surprisingly enough, I am acting like a grown up! Watch out, it may happen to the best of us!) My friends, my clients, my colleagues, my teachers, my ex-friends - all these ripples of kin surround me, support me, and I carry them all in my ever enlarging heart.  

Of course, this leads me back to my favorite theme, gratitude. I'm learning to let in the support of my kith and kin, to belong, to feel connected in the giving and receiving flow of Us. Who do you count as Your People? Make sure you let them know often that you love and appreciate them. It'll bring a smile, a tear, a heart opening laugh. Try it and let me know.

J is for Juice

It's hard to do anything when you've run out of juice. My cell phone needed a new battery, had a hard time staying recharged. We are like that, sometimes needing a brand new reservoir for our liveliness.

It's good to inquire where our juice, our life energy, our oomph really lives in us. Is it living in a far mountain cave, dodging the snow leopards? Is it so far beneath the surface it hasn't seen the sun in years? What we call depression, what indigenous people call soul loss, can feel like this. 

To retrieve parts of our soul, we can turn to the natural world, even if you're in the city.  The elements rebalance us. 

Water: drinking lots of good clean water helps you filter out the toxins of daily life and literally restores your body's flow of water in, water out. Taking mindful baths or showers washes away whatever clings to you from daily exchanges. Floating in water helps us receive the support that's always here for us. Just listening to the waves and tides retunes us to our own rhythm of gathering force and letting go. 

Earth: just feeling the physical support as you sit is enormously restorative.  Notice your feet on the ground and the chair rising to meet your bottom and your back. Rest into that contact and support. I like the image of the earth mama raising her giant palms to meet the soles of my feet with every step. If you're able, taking a walk or hike is powerfully grounding and lets us return to the divine source in us. You know how refreshing it is to eat good root vegetables, how it literally keeps us in the here and now.

Fire: being out in sunlight gives you energy, lightens your mood, dances well with your biochemistry. Being around warm and loving people, feeling our heart fire, can be incredibly healing and rejuvenating. Playing with simple creativity engages heart fire. Ritually burning what we don't need anymore is helpful, writing down habits, patterns, beliefs that are ready to be transformed and burning the paper can powerfully make space for more helpful ways of being.

Air: Tibetan Buddhist tonglen breath practice transforms our demons into allies. It goes something roughly like this: holding an image of the divine within you, breathe in something that you'd like to transform. Say it's your lifelong anger at your brother. Breathe it in, give it to say your inner Quan Yin or Jesus, then let it go on the exhale with a blessing to yourself from your inner divine. Then do it again and  breathe out a blessing to your brother. Repeat as needed, sending out blessings to your brother repeatedly and to others who come to mind. Forgive little and big things. Transforming anger makes space for fresh energy and lightness. Don't be surprised if your brother calls, just because he was thinking of you. 

These are some ways to recharge your battery and find your juice again. Let me know about your favorite ways to juice up.

I is for the big 'I'

Each of us is a vast universe, with many facets, parts, impulses. So what do we mean when we say 'I'? As in:

• I'm exhausted.
  
• I'm really upset with you right now. I'm furious!
  
• I don't know what to do, and I'm starting to panic.

Here we are talking about the small 'I,' a voice within us that is not the whole story. It's helpful to ask ourselves in those moments, "Is all of me exhausted, or is this just one part of me speaking at the moment?" Checking inward, notice where you feel the exhausted part hanging out. It helps to contain it and make it tangible. What's the physical sensation, emotion, image, sound, memory, or movement? What's it here to let you know?

Wait a minute, just who is this part going to feel safe to share with? Enter the big 'I', the most wise and compassionate self who can accept everything because it is everything. Imagine your best, most trusted person who listens so attentively and multiply by a thousand. Total acceptance, compassion, openness, curiosity, interest, engagement, spaciousness, patience, empathy. No judgment. In fact if there's judgment or impatience or snarky remarks, that's another part horning in on the action.

So often with one part arises its counterpart.  So in the case of "I'm furious!" there's the part that feels furious and perhaps another part that makes it not ok to express fury. "That's not ladylike." Or "Getting angry doesn't help." Or "What are you complaining about now?" Anything but the big 'I' conveying to this part, "So, I hear you saying that you're furious."  And waiting for more it wants to say about all that, which it will probably do because - big sigh of relief - the big 'I' is actually listening. We become totally trustworthy when we step into being the big 'I'.

The big 'I' is big enough to contain within it any internal conflicts. Our inherent wholeness, who we really are, has no reason to judge the judging parts, pick favorites, or pit one against another. If you find yourself siding with one or another, it's time to step back further, recognize yet another part that is something other than total acceptance. 

So next time the small you is suffering, see if you can step back into the big 'I' and be there with the part that is suffering. Witnessing, listening, empathizing, reflecting back what we're given, is much better than fixing. Practicing being the big 'I' gives us opportunities to experience our wholeness.

H is for Humility

I was once given a sacred instrument for prayer, rather it was bestowed upon me. The bestower jokingly said, "Earn This." If you ever saw Saving Private Ryan you know these words and their enormity. It's no joke to be deemed worthy of having a sacred thing given to you. It's overwhelming and scary sometimes. It's daunting to consider how you could possibly live up to the expectation of being/doing enough to carry the gift forward. Truly humbling.

The parent given a child to raise, the artist with her gift, the one who fears his own power. All humbled. Do we/they have the courage to know our worth and embody it?

This life is so big, deep, vast, wide, and graced. Do you ever list everything in your life that is good? Do you pray?
You can spend a lot a lot a lot of time in prayer just saying thanks, which is something I used to do with the aforementioned sacred instrument. In the end, you have to say "and thanks for everyone and everything else in my heart." It is humbling to recognize the immensity of our hearts and all that touches us. The word 'humble' is related to 'human' and 'humus.' Bringing you to your knees, prostrate even, down to earth. Close to all the people, places, things that hold you up.

Recently I came up against this familiar painful sense of not feeling worthy of all the amazingness in my life. I heard a little voice in me agree that you can never do enough. This overwhelming fear of failing has been sitting on my joy for a while. YOU CAN NEVER DO ENOUGH. Hearing this was sobering, it was the bald truth, and I felt the meditation bell moment of accepting it. And then in the face of that truth, the little voice went on to say: BUT YOU CAN TRY.

It reminds me of TaKeTiNa, a fun and challenging whole body learning through rhythm. TaKeTiNa is about community, call and response, bicameral brain coordination, stress reduction, and many other things. But the whole point in learning these increasingly complex polyrhythms the indigenous way is this: you are bound to fail, to fall out of rhythm. It's human, humbling.

The trick is to let yourself fail and fall out. By listening and going back to the basics, your bodymind is caught up by the group, and you fall back into rhythm again. The being out of sync and being exactly on the beat have their own rhythm. Your unique pulse of learning and integrating. It is bliss to be completely at one with others in song, motion, blood and bones in joy. And can you be kind to yourself, laugh at yourself when you're thinking and thus falling out?

What humbles you?