If I can't take what happens, I'm not ready for anything. - John Cage, artist, composer
According to Angeles Arrien's Four-Fold Way, Winter is the season of the Warrior. We embody the Warrior when we show up and choose to be present. Doing so means we are ready and willing to be with whatever is here. One way I'm accessing the Warrior is by volunteering at the Reiki Clinic in San Francisco.
In Reiki, we practitioners simply show up and serve up Universal Energy to the client. The client's body-mind system knows where and how to direct that flow of energy. Relaxation, releasing, and self-healing all take place organically. Being a practitioner means showing up, getting out of the way, and trusting the process.
Being a strong conduit for Reiki and holding space for what wants to happen is a very Warrior activity. Oddly enough, it feels easy, effortless, as if you are really doing nothing. We take for granted the huge gift of our Presence. By choosing to show up and be Present, we lend ourselves as witness and create and maintain a strong container for healing.
Anything can happen in life. By showing up and choosing to be here, we are saying we can take it. We can respond with full hearts and clear minds.
Showing posts with label container. Show all posts
Showing posts with label container. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Polishing our Edges
Many of us are lone rangers longing for community, yet wary of being swallowed up by a group. I enjoy my solo time and working one-on-one with people. Yet a deep longing for belonging keeps me joining circles just to learn how to be in community.
My teaching partner Dan has concluded that every group, no matter what the stated common goal, is really about learning how to be oneself in a group. Spiritual teacher and right livelihood guide Rick Jarow goes on to say that work itself may be just an elaborate excuse for us to mend our common karma. My biodynamic craniosacral therapy teacher Gary names our group identity plainly: we as a training group are tending to traumas big and small held in our individual 'social nervous systems' and that of the group as a whole.
In other words, we need each other and we need practice. How else can we learn to communicate, cooperate, and resolve conflict?
People drawn to monastic life have their edges 'polished' by living and working in close, communal quarters. It's easy to be spiritual with your own practice and nobody around to ruffle your feathers. But we serve each other best as mirrors and teachers. What a gift when I become aware of my reaction to X's behavior. Now we're in spiritual practice! My noticing wakes me to what must be my own area of next growth and healing. I bow to X for being a perfect reflection for me.
Any well-facilitated group can be a strong, fluid container that gives breathing room for each individual and encourages cross-pollination. That's how I like to lead and hold space, and how I like to participate. I feel safe to be open and purely myself, excited to learn with the group. I get over my shyness and play well with others.
Our human frailties arise quickly in groups. Alliances are bound to happen as we are drawn to and repelled by certain others. But how do we form bonds, not cliques? Do we understand that everyone is here in this particular group for a reason? Can we enlarge our compassion, inclusion and our willingness to be with someone different? Especially if we don't like him/her? What do we do when we feel exiled? Do we hold leadership or sit back? What do we do with our judgments?
All these questions apply to our inner relationships as well. The more self-compassion we have, the easier it is to meet another openly. And the more we allow our edges to be polished in community, without losing ourselves in group think and group speak, the more we can be truly present with ourselves just as we are.
My teaching partner Dan has concluded that every group, no matter what the stated common goal, is really about learning how to be oneself in a group. Spiritual teacher and right livelihood guide Rick Jarow goes on to say that work itself may be just an elaborate excuse for us to mend our common karma. My biodynamic craniosacral therapy teacher Gary names our group identity plainly: we as a training group are tending to traumas big and small held in our individual 'social nervous systems' and that of the group as a whole.
In other words, we need each other and we need practice. How else can we learn to communicate, cooperate, and resolve conflict?
People drawn to monastic life have their edges 'polished' by living and working in close, communal quarters. It's easy to be spiritual with your own practice and nobody around to ruffle your feathers. But we serve each other best as mirrors and teachers. What a gift when I become aware of my reaction to X's behavior. Now we're in spiritual practice! My noticing wakes me to what must be my own area of next growth and healing. I bow to X for being a perfect reflection for me.
Any well-facilitated group can be a strong, fluid container that gives breathing room for each individual and encourages cross-pollination. That's how I like to lead and hold space, and how I like to participate. I feel safe to be open and purely myself, excited to learn with the group. I get over my shyness and play well with others.
Our human frailties arise quickly in groups. Alliances are bound to happen as we are drawn to and repelled by certain others. But how do we form bonds, not cliques? Do we understand that everyone is here in this particular group for a reason? Can we enlarge our compassion, inclusion and our willingness to be with someone different? Especially if we don't like him/her? What do we do when we feel exiled? Do we hold leadership or sit back? What do we do with our judgments?
All these questions apply to our inner relationships as well. The more self-compassion we have, the easier it is to meet another openly. And the more we allow our edges to be polished in community, without losing ourselves in group think and group speak, the more we can be truly present with ourselves just as we are.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Feeling Ground and Rising Up
Being in the body means giving ourselves up to gravity and touching earth. Sitting in meditation, we root ourselves through our sit bones. Our feet, legs, and bottom meeting the ground give us great stability, out of which our spine and consciousness can rise naturally. A sprout reaching for the sun.
Grounding allows us to first be here, then rise up, reach out, and connect with others. Without grounding we can be floaty and a little too untethered, not productive.
In one of my recent Collage Circles*, one participant had abundant fiery energy wanting more focus. I encouraged her to pay attention to the ground of the paper she would work on and the edges that would contain her process. Being aware of containment offers safety and can actually create more space for what wants to happen.
She made a two-sided collage, with lots of movement and images transcending the board. One corner was a pop-up section with a plant stalk or snaky thing coming out and up from the flat surface, then connecting back down to the board.
A revelation: energy can go up and out AND can also feed back into the source. This was very moving to her, that her process could be inherently regenerating, rather than scattering and exhausting. All that energy could move, but she could stay here in ground.
Sculptor Martin Puryear often uses the form of some heavy solid thing with an upraised arm. The ground and anchor allows extension, suspension, lift and creates a great dynamic tension, a wonderful feeling of aliveness and presence.
http://mckeegallery.com/nggallery/page-219/page/163/
If you'd like to explore this more, contact me for embodied practices to connect to ground and movement in your life.
*Next Collage Circle 4/25: www.wildimagination.org/calendar.htm
Grounding allows us to first be here, then rise up, reach out, and connect with others. Without grounding we can be floaty and a little too untethered, not productive.
In one of my recent Collage Circles*, one participant had abundant fiery energy wanting more focus. I encouraged her to pay attention to the ground of the paper she would work on and the edges that would contain her process. Being aware of containment offers safety and can actually create more space for what wants to happen.
She made a two-sided collage, with lots of movement and images transcending the board. One corner was a pop-up section with a plant stalk or snaky thing coming out and up from the flat surface, then connecting back down to the board.
A revelation: energy can go up and out AND can also feed back into the source. This was very moving to her, that her process could be inherently regenerating, rather than scattering and exhausting. All that energy could move, but she could stay here in ground.
Sculptor Martin Puryear often uses the form of some heavy solid thing with an upraised arm. The ground and anchor allows extension, suspension, lift and creates a great dynamic tension, a wonderful feeling of aliveness and presence.
http://mckeegallery.com/nggallery/page-219/page/163/
If you'd like to explore this more, contact me for embodied practices to connect to ground and movement in your life.
*Next Collage Circle 4/25: www.wildimagination.org/calendar.htm
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