S is for Showing Up

I'm going to help a friend pack up for a move this weekend. This is part of my m.o., showing up at a significant turning point after a long absence. Maybe it's a dramatic gesture to be just as important as the everyday reliable friends. Or it may be the healer in me responding to a cry for help. Whatever the case, I can show up for my friend it that way.

My teacher Angeles Arrien holds that Showing Up is the essential power of the Warrior, the Leader in each of us. I try to gauge how well I show up and make myself available to life. Where is it easy and where is it more of a challenge for me to be present? This year I've learned about what I prioritize based on what's been easy to commit to and where I say YES. Writing, my family, my home, certain deep friends, a new training make me say YES. And I see where it's harder to show up fully in certain aspects of my work practice and exercise routine.

The hardest thing is how often we don't show up for ourselves. Our feelings of abandonment are transformed when we can just be present and meet ourselves consciously. No fixing or healing, just meeting. I've had the great experience of being received by my own compassion in Focusing. I've felt a necessary connection made by hearing my own words and stories read to me. I've known the back and forth of therapeutic touch. My body-mind is beginning to remember how to stay rather than run off. And it feels good.

It's a lifelong process, this business of showing up. What allows you to show up - in your relationships, at work, with your creativity, with yourself?

R is for Receptivity

I was sharing with a friend a short story I'd written. She wondered how I'd come up with one particularly striking image. The truth is stranger than fiction. I pretty much wrote down exactly what I'd seen. This specificity helped ground the scene in a way, which I might never have been able to imagine. Creative people know, and we are all creative people, that a large part of our work is to live with eyes and ears open. Our receptivity and the open space we hold are essential to our capacity to synthesize and create.

When we are too full of distraction, there's nowhere for new energy to come in and stay. We become like an overflowing closet. That's when we need spring cleaning, to clear out the clutter in our minds and our internal creative space to allow the energy to flow again. This could mean literally cleaning up our writing space or art studio, sweeping the dance floor.

Or it could mean properly storing our odd thoughts, idea seeds, scraps of dialogue, or stray images. I use my laptop or my journal. Raymond Carver apparently kept his scraps in his bathrobe pocket. Jotting things down, doing sketches, playing with movement and gesture are ways to give things raw form and reassure them they can have your attention at the right time. It gives you something solid to return to.

Once those are given initial form, there's a clear arena for what wants to emerge. Again, it's listening, watching, being curious about what is going to show up. Why is it that I can trust something will come in my creating life, when the same uncertainty in other aspects of my life just makes me anxious? I think it has to do with practice. Some people, especially meditators, know about the comings and goings of ideas and energy and have a broader perspective of nonattachment.

So notice where you are receptive and where you need to clear out some space for new energy to come in.

Q is for Quality, not Quantity

I splurge in little ways to stay open and abundant. By choosing quality over quantity and taking time to savor, I give myself a greater experience of being alive and connected and present. Sometimes just a taste can open up a world.

Each step of creating an organic heirloom tomato salad can be savored. Selecting the ingredients, I can feel sense the water, earth, and sun dense in the flesh. I can smell the vines, almost feel the pricklies. At the check out counter I chat amiably with the cashier with the faded Maori chin tattoo and am grateful we have money in the bank for this and that she’s here being of kind service. In my kitchen, preparing and arranging the food I lose track of time, move efficiently and with the forehead numbness of pure intuition. In the thrall of everyday creativity.

Eating, slowly taking in this delicious fruit, is a whole mindfulness meditation. I so enjoy the natural sweetness set off by just enough salt. The golden yellow, the green stripes, and the shadowy red fill my eyes. And I laugh with my man at how outrageously good something so simple can be. How lucky we are.

A little luxury is good. Once I paid $3 for one fragrant, softball size peach in Tokyo. Totally worth the memory of peach juice in August running down my face. It didn’t cure my homesickness, but gave me a much-needed connection to the earth there.

Experimenting is good. I brought home the exotic dragonfruit to try, because I’ve never been to the dry tropical places it grows. The magenta fleshed fruit is definitely something to be eaten in appreciative company. I had the pleasure of oohing and ahhing over it with friends who’d come for Sunday brunch.

Receiving is good. The time we went housepainting up the coast, the art teacher had brought one precious truffle from her home in the south of France. Shaved finely over an angel hair pasta appetizer, it was earthy sublime.

Opt for quality over quantity and connect - to the earth and her bounty, to deep nourishment, to each other, and to the seasons. All this lived experience expands out of the relatively brief clock time needed to prepare and eat a side dish together. And that's the key, time shared. I'm convinced it is our most precious resource, how we show up awake and alive to this moment with each other. Here I’m talking about food, but for you it could be something else. Where do you choose quality over quantity?

P is for Perception

From my father I inherited the ability to see what's wrong. A pathologist, he spent most of his life in front of a microscope hunting down the cause of diseases. But I was made for the more elusive task of being Medicine and seeing beauty. It takes a lot of practice to choose moment to moment to focus and build on what's right in the world and in myself. 

On a beautiful hike yesterday I watched my mind do its habitual thing. Tree stumps and ugly military bunkers bummed me out, so that I didn't really take in the serene views of the bay and the city and the lovely sailboats. I was too busy imagining horrible things - my cat dead upon our return home, my partner mangled in a bike accident, gloom and doom. Each time I became aware of my tragic daydreams, I physically made an X in the air, a sign to the Universe that I'm not putting any more energy into manifesting those thoughts.

Try it now. Let a worst case scenario come up in your mind's eye. X it out and say 'that doesn't have to happen.' Then imagine something yummy, productive, helpful, ideal. Does it make you smile or laugh? Spend some time with that imagining and mark it with a + plus sign. Say 'thank you' for it already manifesting.

When I'm feeling grateful and open and willing to play, the world opens up with wonders. What lens are you using to perceive your world? 

O is for Openings

In a recent movement workshop, we were instructed to walk, skip, leap in whatever direction at whatever rate through the studio. I sped up. Nearing a wall, I'd push off with my hands and ricochet in another direction. Walking fast backwards, we were coached to say "thank you" if we and another collided. It didn't happen. Without knowing each others' ever changing trajectories, without disrupting my instinctive arc, I kept finding the open space to move into. I left open space in my wake for others to enter.

Why doesn't this seamless hive intelligence happen on the street? I believe it's because we often tune out our awareness of being part of a larger group. Cell phones exacerbate the situation. In individualistic driver mode, we don't necessarily look for openings, but wonder why everyone isn't getting out of our way. In our public life we don't have the same agreements or intentions as in a movement workshop.

It made me remember other larger groups, other dance spaces filled with forty or fifty people zipping across the room, nobody colliding. It's as if we were all aware of being in relationship to the whole. My small 't' taoist friend Howard often says that he follows the openings, looking for where there's already flow and movement in his life. That's what we all were doing in the larger dancing group and so the whole group body flowed.

I like that, being welcomed forward by the seemingly empty space or life openings. Opportunity knocks and we answer or we don't. Nature abhors a vacuum, so invites us to fill it momentarily by our stepping forward or leaping into it. What openings are beckoning for you? What invitations do you ignore or resist? Do you get stuck in setting your trajectory to where your way is blocked?

N is for Nourishment

I'm convinced that self-care is the Achilles heel of so many of us in the healing arts. And parents raising young ones. And teachers. And anyone dedicated to service. I'm confounded by how loving, patient, giving, accepting we can be in our daily work with others, while forgetting to extend basic nurture to ourselves. Without sustaining ourselves with consistent deep care, our work is truly unsustainable.

So in search of elusive balance, this year I've been following what nourishes me. Keeping up my own creative practice and playing well with others is vital. Yes, it's true. I am my own kindergartener! This has led me to join a writers workshop, create and teach a dreams and collage workshop with a friend, make occasional art dates, take movement exploration classes, and give myself a retreat with kindred spirits. It continues to be a year of rich inner life, which has served me well.

A nutritionist I know calls those things that most feed us 'primary nutrition.' So not just food, air, water, rest. It may be hanging with people who know you best and love you anyway. Being your sensual self. Hula hooping, old car souping up, refining your barbecue sauce recipe, learning more Italian. It could be something no one's ever heard of, yet is important to you.

How do you know what feeds you? Follow the soul longing. What would you regret not being and not doing at the end of your life? Which people, places, things inspire you? Who and what helps you feel aligned with your higher purpose, even if you don't quite know what that is?

Now that I'm tending to what's important, I'm getting a clearer sense of what is enough. I don't have to chase after every retreat or training or book or experience to complete me. I can discern and follow what nourishes me. And filling myself with my true life, I'm reaching the tipping point of naturally spilling out in generous service to others.

M is for the Great Mother

On a recent walk I passed a tall wooden fence with a bougainvillea poofing out over the top, creating a leafy roof a few inches above my head. I could not see the very top where magenta blossoms were reaching for the sun. Most people are taller than me, so I felt this as a rarely occupied place of refuge on a busy neighborhood sidewalk. I passed under it quickly, then something made me return and stand under this bushy vine's canopy.

I pulled the earbuds from my ears and turned off the MP3 player. I swept my troubles away to be recycled into more fruitful energy. That spot smelled earthy and green and the dark stillness pulsed and carressed me. My skull felt like it could breathe better, like during a Reiki treatment or craniosacral therapy. The soles of my feet spread and took root. It was being held by the energy of the Divine Mother, a strong nurturing feminine presence or the plant's calling out those qualities in me.

It could be that the boug's longing to climb up and over the fence of the front yard of the unseen house was what made it so strong a protective presence. Having reached more freedom, it could hold itself up as it spread out thickly and offered shelter. Don't we all know people like that, men and women who have climbed up through addiction or hard times to stand firm and offer a space of comfort and leadership for others? The best healers are like that, alchemizing compassionate service to others out of their own struggles to be free.

I carry the Great Mother essence in me strongly, even though I have no children. As an artist and healer it's part of my journey to know that nurture for myself and to offer it up in the form of beauty, attention, caring. No matter our sex and gender, how do we bring nurture forward in this wounded world? Even when our own personal mothers did not have what they needed to be able to offer us whole and consistent nurturing, we can learn from nature and other mothers how to share Love Medicine. We can celebrate the seeming chaotic wholeness in our ever changing lives. Just by taking a moment to feel our body as part of the greater body of the Mother, the earth, this world, this belonging.

How do you experience the Divine Mother?