Spiritual Unfolding in Motherhood

During motherhood I unexpectedly began a spiritual unfolding. It was nothing I planned for, nor sought out.  In fact, you could easily argue the opposite, that it would have taken a bolt of lightning for a secular girl like me to have had a spiritual experience. Before motherhood I had already gone to an ashram in India, traveled from Mexico to the Silk Road of Uzbekistan, volunteered in service in the Peace Corps, taken myself to Kripalu Yoga and Wellness Center for retreats, spent years in a twelve-step program and attended a Unitarian Universalist Church for Sunday sermons, and in none of these experiences was I seeking a spiritual experience nor having a spiritual experience. It was not until I was 6 months pregnant with my son when I joined a church for the first time.  I was 31 years-old.

My experience was not to be an Eat, Pray, Love experience where a woman shares her spiritual awakening while traveling the world. This was not to be a Devotion experience where a mother chronicles her steps towards an authentic spiritual life for her and her son. Mine was, well, rather inconvenient timing to tell you the truth.  I was knee deep in scared-out-of-my-mind first-time (and unexpected!) motherhood.  How the heck was I supposed to fit in a spiritual journey too?

Well, if I’ve learned anything in these last 7 years it is this: I have yet to meet a person, including myself, who was actually able to pick out the day, time and life stage to meet god.  In our overly calculated, strategic and fundamentally control-freaky American society, this is just one life experience that we do not get to schedule in our iPhone.

I’ve been asked if I at least had a tug inside of me.  Some sort of emptiness or void that manifested as a restlessness to be full-filled. No. I’d say, no.  Probably because I had no spiritual or religious life growing up, I had no idea that anything was amiss or absent.  I did not feel judgmental about my secular life. I did not feel sad, angry or fearful about my secular life.  This was my normal.  I had no other reality to compare or contrast it to. I was not even an agnostic or an atheist.  Both of these positions suggest someone has a conviction about god and the spiritual life. I didn’t.  It was just a non-issue for me.

Not that I didn’t have an introspective life or interest.  I did.  I certainly did.  From childhood I always kept a journal and my family and friends would tell you I was often found quiet and reserved, off by myself in deep thought.  I was caught in a paradox though.  I could be contentedly both with myself and by myself for oddly long periods of time--kind of like one of my favorite childhood books Ferdinand the Bull.  At the same time, I was incredibly lonely.  As I got older, one-to-one deep conversations with complex people captivated me, and ultimately led me to my career path as a clinical social worker who practices psychotherapy. 

You could argue, maybe, that these earlier introspective experiences hard-wired me or primed me for what was to come.  But even if someone had fore-told it to me, I wouldn’t have believed them.  I think this is because 1.) I'm stubborn and 2.) You don’t know how rigid your interior life is, even a completely secular one, until it gets torn down.  It is not until you are standing there naked and exposed, when you know going back to how things used to be is not even an option, and yet you have no idea what is next that you catch on to what is unfolding. When you are brought to your knees in vulnerability—my least favorite of the human experiences—that you acknowledge your life is changing in a completely unexpected direction.  Enter, god.

So that is a little piece about the origins of my spiritual awakening.  How about yours? I would love to hear.

Meditative Blogs

If you are like me, and countless others, when you feel lost or restless, you may find yourself surfing the web.  My husband, he likes channel surfing the television with the remote control.  But that is not really my cup of tea.   I prefer to waste countless minutes (hours…) online in a quasi-vegetable-like state going from website to website looking for god-knows-what- please note the sarcasm!

I really don’t do this often.  I don’t have time to do it often.  But, undoubtedly sometimes I do go right down the internet rabbit hole.  This may sound strange coming from someone who writes a blog.  And as I write this, I would have to agree.  Alas, here we are…

But I have found some websites, specifically blog sites, that I can go to if I must be online.  If I must get my fix. In fact, just today I finished a post called “Meditation Yields Joy,” and then turned to Buddhist teacher and writer Jack Kornfield’s blog only to see him write nearly the very same sentiment just this month: “The aim of spiritual life is to awaken a joyful freedom, a benevolent and compassionate heart in spite of everything.”

So I picked several blog sites here that you may like too.  All are quality reading material.  Many of them “the greats,” in my humble opinion, who contribute to our meditation community through their wise words put to, not paper anymore, but techno-space.

1.)    Tara Brach: Buddhist teacher, writer, psychotherapist

blog.tarabrach.com

2.)    Stephen Cope: Scholar in Residence at Kripalu, writer, psychotherapist

http://kripalu.org/blog

3.)    Dani Shapiro: Writer

www.danishapiro.com

4.)    Jack Kornfield: Leading western Buddhist teacher and writer

jackkornfield.com/category/blog

5.)    Sharon Salzberg: Leading western Buddhist teacher and writer

sharonsalzberg.com

6.)    Brother David Steindl-Rast: Not a blog, but has many articles and word of the day

gratefulness.org

7.)    On-Being NPR Radio Show: Blogs written by host Krista Tippet and her staff

www.onbeing.org/blog

8.)    Unitarian Universalist Association: a Round-up of UU-friendly bloggers

http://bloguuworld.org/web/

9.)    Sylvia Boorstein: Not a blog, but does have many of her articles on Buddhism

sylviaboorstein.com/articles
10.) Karen Maezen-Miller: Mother, Zen Priest, Author of 3 books
karenmaezenmiller.com/blog/
11.) Kate Braestrup: UU minister and Author
www.katebraestrup.com/blog/

This list is in no particular order, and I’m sure there are many others.  If you have other blog sites you would recommend to me and others, please forward them on!  Some folks use Facebook and Twitter to get some guidance from their favorite gurus, but I find those sites too slippery to navigate, and instead stick to blogs. 

Happy reading!

Meditation Yields Joy

This past week I felt moments of a deep penetrating joy even though I was scouring my house for lice and experiencing holiday blues. How is this possible you ask? I would say, unquestionably, through practicing meditation.

Now you may be thinking, it sounds like this girl has been drinking the cool aid! And maybe I have been.  Maybe I have become a believer of sorts in the benefits of millennia-old practices in meditation. But hey, if it ain’t broke…

Some of you know, I recently went through the Jon Kabat-Zinn, UMASS-based, Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction 8-week training this past fall. In the class, the teacher, Kate, said several nuggets of wisdom about meditation practice that are still working their way through me. 

One piece that I was reminded of in these last several days while I had time off from work and was spending time with my children, is that a meditation practice is like weaving a parachute. Each day you sit down and weave for 5 minutes, 30 minutes, one hour.  Any amount of weaving, any amount of meditation, contributes to a larger whole that leads to a greater sense of equanimity. This equanimity, or parachute, allows you to experience joy at times you would otherwise have been distracted by the external minutia that often overwhelms us.  Like, for example, doing loads and loads of laundry, changing bedding and bagging stuffed animals because my 5 year-old somehow got lice the day after Christmas.  Or, moving through the feelings associated with loss that show up each year at the holidays for me.  In the past, I am certain I would have been unable to notice that grounding joy inside me because my focus would have been elsewhere.

I have to say, I find this recent awareness about meditation very encouraging because it helps me increase my motivation and commitment (otherwise known as discipline) to continue a meditation practice even though sometimes it can feel like just one more thing to do in my already very busy schedule as a working mother.

Now for me, meditation practice has two other components: mindfulness and god.  I know it does not for everyone, as there is no one way to meditate.  But for me, this triad creates the whole.  Some people might call this “whole” a contemplative practice.

I first learned about contemplative practice from author Sue Monk Kidd. I was reading her book (one of my favorites!) When the Heart Waits, in which Ms. Kidd shares her earlier spiritual journey based in Christian Mysticism.  Recently, Oprah Winfrey re-aired her interview with Sue Monk Kidd on her show Super Soul Sunday, and she quoted from this same book: 

“There have been moments in my life when I sat in the utter quietness of a deserted room and had the noise of a firework show going on inside me.  And there have been rare times when I stood in a crowd of noisy people and tapped into a deep inner silence.  It is this interior quietness, a silence within us that is a door through which God can come to us.”

The past several days I was certainly not in the “utter quietness of a deserted room.”  My 5 year-old and 1 year-old were loud, my house was a mess from Christmas and lice-decontamination, and we had multiple gatherings to attend with the holidays.  But here’s the miracle, “the miracle of mindfulness” as Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh says, at times, I still felt quiet inside.

I have heard Buddhist teacher and nun Pema Chodron use the analogy of leather shoes to describe the benefits of meditation practice.  She says we could choose to try to protect ourselves from the suffering of the world and our own emotions like fear and anger by exerting lots of effort to stay inside our little bubble of comfort as to avoid vulnerability.  Or, through meditation, we can cover our vulnerability, our feet, with leather shoes so that we can go out into the world and embrace our difficult feelings with the knowledge that we can tolerate it. We can handle it.  I’m coming to believe this too.

I’m also coming to believe that joy and happiness are two very different experiences. For me, joy is an ability to hold a deeper connection to what is most true and important in our lives (our children, our earth, our dignity, our own personal ethics, the fact that we are all here in this life for a relatively brief stay) no matter what else is going on around us.  Happiness, on the other hand, is a fleeting emotion.  Like sadness, fear, anger, boredom.  It comes.  It goes.  It comes again.  Meditation has also helped me to distinguish the differences between joy and happiness too.

The goal, then, for me becomes two-fold.  One, continue to meditate. Continue to weave my parachute- with as much frequency and regularity as I can muster.  And two, continue to notice the way mindfulness and god manifest as joy in my everyday comings and goings, whatever they may be.

I will conclude with this quote that sits atop author Dani Shapiro’s blogsite, and seems all together fitting this morning:

“Every day includes much more non-being than being. This is always so. One walks, eats, sees things, deals with what has to be done; the broken vacuum cleaner; ordering dinner; washing; cooking dinner. When it is a bad day the proportion of non-being is much larger.”

– Virginia Woolf

Maya Angelou & Other Marys

In the hospital where I work, I keep a frame in the reception area with a quote for patients to contemplate as they await treatment.  Not one specific quote, I actually change it several times a week.  Most recently I displayed a quote by poet, writer, activist and performer Dr. Maya Angelou.  It is a quote that you hear Oprah Winfrey citing on her shows in which Dr. Angelou says:“I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.”  

I really like this quote because of what it implies--a gentle understanding that we are all works in progress who are doing our best--but more so because it is Dr. Angelou who is saying it. A woman who spoke multiple languages, wrote 36 books, had 50 honorary degrees, worked with Civil Rights Leaders like Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King, and was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the country’s highest civilian honor in 2010 by President Obama. This same woman, said she had made mistakes, struggled and acted from ignorance because she just hadn’t gained that bit of wisdom yet.

I desperately need people like this in my life.  But not just people, women.  I need wise women to guide me. To model for me the art of living.  Now, Dr. Angelou is deceased (May 28, 2014), and I obviously did not know her personally, but her life and words stand as an example for me just the same.  Women need other women, past and present, who can model how to navigate this journey we call life, but who do it in a warm, humble and compassionate way as Dr. Angelou’s words suggest. Women who are sturdy and solid in who they are, that to stretch themselves to make way for other women is actually no stretch at all.

I think of these women as “Marys,” as in variations of Mother Mary, La Virgen de Guadalupe, the Divine Mother, the Goddess, the feminine energy of god, or what have you.  As I’ve said before, to me, the name is just a label, just a word, a symbol; already something way too small and too human to represent something so enormous and vast.  But alas, words are what we have…

I see Marys as sages who walk among us, or who’s footsteps preceded us; women who are so grand that we can be held in their shadow alone.

I particularly need Marys at this time of year.  Not because she is on my mind per se with all of the singing about the birth of her son Jesus, but because I tend to have trouble Thanksgiving through Christmas. The holidays. I know I am not at all unusual in this way, and it actually wasn’t always this way for me. I have some really wonderful childhood memories of the holidays- however romanticized they may be now.  But the tendency toward the blues still seems to knock at my door each December just the same, and I long for a Mary to hold me, figuratively speaking of course. 

One of the ways I meet the need for this longing is I read the words of the real life women, like Dr. Angelou, who help me embody the compassionate but strong image that my Marys represent.  I try to close my eyes and draw into my heart the wisdom gained through generations of women who have struggled through adversity and came out, not on top, but with dignity, self-worth and kindness.

Another famous Dr. Angelou quote: "When you get, give. When you learn, teach" reminds me of one of my absolute favorite sayings that is an African American proverb: lift as you climb. It was the motto of the National Association of Colored Women founded in 1896. When I imagine one of the women I admire, I pull from that image.  It is not an image of a saintly perfectionist.  She is a real human being.  Who through blood, sweat and tears evolved and grew enlightened.  It is that image, that woman, who has room on her coat tails to pull you and me "onward and upward” (as my own mother used to say).  Even through the holiday blues.

Which Marys do you model your courage after today?  To name a few...

Letting Go of Judgment

I said to my husband yesterday that former catholics remind me of recovering smokers.  Now, before I offend my Catholic readers and my readers who used to smoke, though I may be too late for that, I must tell you that nearly all of my favorite people, including my children's god mothers were both raised Catholic and are former smokers. I realize I sound like a Seinfeld episode (my best friend is...) but it is still true.

My remark to my husband came after a baptism of our good friends' son held at a beautiful, if somewhat modern, Catholic Church last Sunday. We were driving out of the parking lot and I, the non-Catholic, was commenting on all the pieces of the ceremony and the church that I found personally moving and meaningful. But my husband, who was raised Catholic, was boo-hooing the ceremony with minor things like the clichéd long length of the service. Which makes sense, who knows how many long-winded priests he had to listen to while growing up. But it still seemed critical. Similar, in my experience, to how critical former smokers are of current smokers- far more critical than I who never smoked.

I think it can be hard to pull out the threads of an experience that are helpful and let go of the rest. It certainly is for me. And I've had to work at it for many (many!) years. But, I have to give myself credit and say, I've gotten better.

On Sunday at the baptism I certainly heard the part of the ceremony where the priest spoke about "baptized babies go to heaven" and when he asked the families to say in chorus that they "reject satan." Two ideas I personally reject. But I was also able to appreciate this gorgeous statue of Jesus Christ behind the priest in which his chest was turned upward toward the sky, his arms were thrown backward, and his head tilting back.  It reminded me of all the open-hearted yoga poses I have ever learned, and if nothing else, Jesus was open-hearted from everything I've heard.

I also enjoyed the elderly priest's sense of humor and found it quite intriguing to hear he had been a marine in an earlier life. Learning that tip of the iceberg forced me to avoid pigeon-holing the priest into one small box just because it is the easy thing to do when we are in a judgmental stance or mindset.

And lest we not forget, the stained glass windows. I love stained glass windows. I carried my one year-old daughter to them and she made her "this is amazing" face with her mouth hanging open and big round eyes. She reached out her hand to touch the colored, cool glass. The esthetic beauty of a Catholic Church reminded me of a saying I had heard once.  I was told, though I never confirmed it myself, in the Koran it is written: "god loves beauty. God is beauty." Having sat in the sterile Congregational Church for several years in childhood, I have always found the attention to the senses (visual, touch, taste, smell, hearing) in a Catholic mass and a Cathedral much more stimulating and worthy- a word that is the basis of "worship."

So how do we train ourselves to be nonjudgmental as we walk through our lives? So that we don't rule out or filter out a potentially meaningful experience just based on the little bit we can see or know on the outset? According to Mindfulness guru Jon Kabat-Zinn, taking a nonjudgmental stance is critically important and is something we can train in to get better at through mindfulness.

Twentieth century monastic Thomas Merton said true freedom, which would include freedom from our own viewpoints and narrow opinions, comes when we follow god's will. Now, "god's will" is still a term that I am trying to wrap my brain around- though I haven't yet...But I think it is fully participating in your own life and reality as it unfolds before you. The good. The bad. And the ugly.

One more way I've read recently to combat the magnetic pull of judgment is "Radical Openness."  I read this turn of phrase in a book I have referred to often in this blog: "One Buddha is not Enough."  A compilation of chapters written by monastics and lay people who follow the teachings of Vietnamese Buddhist Thich Nhat Hahn. When I read these words: radical openness, I felt something shift inside of me. Almost like a voice inside of me quietly said a drawn out "Yyyyeeeesss."  A deep resonating. With the word "radical" meaning fully and completely. A letting go of all resistance, mental filters, preconceived notions, expectations, and prejudices. So powerful. So hard to practice.

This weekend, I challenge you to let go of the judgments that make you unable to see the fuller picture in which there is a piece of meaning waiting for you. I will try to do the same.

God Signs

Saw this on my drive to work and had to see it as a sign...

When lost, return to Pema

I'll just say it, I love Pema.  Love her.  I am referring of course to Pema Chodron, the American Buddhist nun who is the director of a Buddhist monastery in Nova Scotia and a writer of I don't know how many books.  I re-read a passage from her book The Wisdom of No Escape this morning.

I've been posting lately, maybe for a month or so, that I have drifted far away from the spiritual practices that had been nearly daily.  Practices that I have found essential for maintaining any sort of bare minimum sanity.  And without them, it has led to me feeling a bit lost.

So this morning, a Saturday when I don't have to head into work and get my son off to school, after nursing my daughter at 5 a.m. (her preferred time this morning, not mine!) rather than going  back to sleep because my mind felt too awake already (you know when the thoughts are already moving above the speed limit) I opted to pull Pema off of my bookshelf.

Now, The Wisdom of No Escape sits next to another Pema Chodron favorite on my bookshelf in the living room, The Places That Scare You.  This book, a paperback,  is so beat-up at this point from casual reading, furious reading, desperate reading that it has become sacred to me.

Yes, I used the word "sacred," but if you are wary of religious language from early childhood nonsecular scars, do not fret.  Though I may be a Pema groupie, I am not someone who turns humans into idols or gods.  Humans are just too human for that.  Having said that, I have found that some people seem to just have gained more wisdom in their single lifetime (to my knowledge...) than the rest of us.  People we all know about like Jesus Christ, the Buddha, Mohamed, Maya Angelou, Mahatma Ghandi, Mother Teresa, Dr. Martin Luther King, Aberham Lincoln, Anne Frank, Rosa Parks, Cesar Chavez, Ruby Bridges, Eleanor Roosevelt, & Thich Nhat Hanh to name a few.  But also people only some of us know about in our own very personal lives like my Great Aunt Bunny who died in October of this year.  For me, Pema Chodron is on this list.  Someone I can reliably go to for wisdom when I am feeling like the ground is moving beneath me and I need a hand to hold so I don't fall over.

This morning she was discussing a sign she had read on a bulletin board: "be open and accept all situations and people."  And the famous words of Zen Master Dogen who said "to know yourself or study yourself is to forget yourself, and if you forget yourself then you become enlightened by all things."

I had read this chapter in her book before, but I find that doesn't seem to matter at all. I simply take in her words and move into my meditation practice.  And with her discussion of openness and acceptance I decided to sit with my palms open and up rather than folded  in my lap which is how I usually sit. A symbolic gesture of sorts.

So today, as I go through my day, feeling alternately lost then found then lost again, I will come back to Pema Chodron. Her presence. Her words. The life she embodies, to find my footing once again- and again.

Today,  who can you turn to when you feel lost?

Presence is divine

I currently have 2 bottles of amoxicillin 400 mg in my refrigerator, one for each of my children. Two teaspoons for my son twice a day to treat pneumonia.  One teaspoon for my daughter twice a day to treat a double ear infection. Fun times...

Of course I am being facetious here.  There have actually been several quite heart-wrenching moments in these last few days.  Holding my children in my arms as they were miserable and in pain, and feeling completely helpless and inadequate in my ability to take away their suffering.  Because, for some reason, I still have not accepted yet--5+ years into the parenting experience--that I cannot take away their suffering. I can, however, be with them while they go through it.

I have recently been  thinking about whether or not the god of my imagination finds him or herself in the same predicament as I do as a parent.  Does god have the capacity to take away the misery and pain that we human beings suffer? Or is god merely with us in these dark times?  Unable to intervene. Unable to alter the course of things or take away the transgressions.  But fully able and willing to hold and rock and whisper to us as we go through this human experience.  Sometimes I think I know my own answer to those questions, but then I find myself on my proverbial knees praying for exactly what I want god to do for me?

I recently wrote this in the "Notes" section of my iPhone.  I do that sometimes to empty out all the words that swarm around in my mind.  I wrote: "god is in between the notes in the music.  god is in the transition from one yoga posture to another.  god is the breath of silence between two people in conversation.  god is present in the dawn and the dusk. god is in the moment just before a kiss.  god is there the hour before the doctor gives the diagnosis.  god is that untouchable, unknowable, untraceable mysterious space where anything is possible.  Where past, present and future converge into one stillpoint.  Where all is perfect.  Imperfect and all."

Reading this again, I still believe this.  But, upon deeper reflection,  I begin to knit my brows in wonder, "is god really in or is god with?" Which preposition is correct?  In my own personal theology I've come to agree with folks like Unitarian Universalist Chaplain Kate Braestrup and now deceased UU Reverend Forrest Church who had both talked publicly and wrote about their belief that god is not an interventionist in our human lives.  Which is another way of saying, like me as a parent, god cannot take away the pain and suffering of us human beings.  But god can, and does, show up as presence in our lives to love us as  we move through these seemingly unbearable experiences.  And to paraphrase Anne Lamott in her book Operating Instructions "it's not enough, except it is."

I will try to remember god is with me, just as I am with my children, during times of darkness. 

I will also try to remember god's presence in the next few weeks while a very important person in my life will have surgery to treat her recently diagnosed breast cancer.  I am scared for her.  And I am helpless.  But despite my powerlessness, I will try to not lose sight of the value of showing up for another in times of dread and devastation. Fear and frustration.  To be with her.  Knowing full well, "it's not enough, except it is."  After all, god does, right?

Embodying Christian Virtues

It's December, and Jesus is everywhere.  On front lawns.  Sung to, and about on the radio. To be referred to often in my church services as Christmas approaches.  And it causes me to pause, and reflect back on my growing admiration for this prophetic man.

I'm not a Christian.  Never have been.  My parents spent a handful of years bringing my sister and I to the local Protestant Congregational Church growing up.  Or, more accurately, one parent would bring us, the other would do the grocery shopping at Stop & Shop because both tasks were after all, chores.  But to their credit, as my parents approached most parenting tasks I think, they thought the act of having us attend church services and Sunday school for several years would help us later to know what religion is, and that would be a good thing.  Kind of like the equivalent of taking a book out of the library on religion.  Or the modern day equivalent, doing a google search.  A mere intellectual endeavor to be a more well-rounded person.  So I never got turned on to Christianity or Jesus through that experience.  I didn't get turned on to anything religious in that experience- though I did like listening to the bell choir...

In the past couple of years though, I've found some aspects of Christianity useful, even helpful, as far as JC is concerned.

The Unitarian Universalist Church I go to is historically a Universalist Church, and it was founded in 1821 in a nearby town.  When the church moved to it's current location, an enormous stained glass window of Jesus and his disciples came with the congregation, and it now fills the sanctuary.  For those of you who don't know much about UU history, this denomination has Judeo-Christian origins, but is now I would say not identified as a Christian Church despite it's lineage.  Though, Jesus certainly makes his appearances within the service, but then so does The Buddha, Mary Oliver and Howard Thurman.  I must admit though, I've come to kinda like when Jesus takes the floor.

When I first began to visit this church, I had just left a UU church which I would describe as Humanist and verging on Atheist in nature- to say the least, there was no floor to ceiling stained glass window of Jesus in the sanctuary.  And when I first entered my current church and saw the big man with his beard, long hair, and flowing robes standing center stage, literally right behind the pulpit, I was a little put off. I even began to have second thoughts about finding a new spiritual home in a church.  I thought, maybe my spiritual journey was meant to fly solo?

But I continued to go.  Not very consistently at times.  Not taking part in the Lord's Prayer section of the service.  Not too open to the services honed in on the Christian themes and history.  But persevering none the less because I decided my spiritual journey was not supposed to be taken all alone.

Somewhere along the way though, I found I began to like to hear about Christianity, well, more specifically, Jesus.  I became intrigued when I learned he died  in his 30's- I'm in my 30's.  My respect grew when I found out that he liked to hang out with the forgotten ones (in the year 2014 or 14, it seems 2 millennia has not changed this much) like prostitutes and the terminally ill.  I began to take part in the Lord's Prayer when some members, though certainly not all, recited it along with the minister after singing the prayer Spirit of Life.  I particularly liked saying the line: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us" since forgiveness as a spiritual practice has always been a tough one for me.

In fact, the more I learn about him, Jesus that is, I was surprised to find out that his words (at least the words that have been passed down to me) really reflect a nonjudgmental and compassionate stance- 2 positions I generally more associate with Buddhism than Christianity since most of the Christians I've met seem to be extraordinarily judgmental.  But the story about Jesus seeing the group of people in the street with a plan to stone a woman, a prostitute I believe, to death, began to shift my thinking about the association I had been making between Christians and judgment.  Now, please forgive me if I am getting some of the details wrong here, that is not my intent.  But my understanding is upon seeing this group in the street about to murder this woman for her "sins," Jesus said to the mob, "he who has not sinned shall cast the first stone."  And with that, the crowd dispersed.  I love that story. It not only encourages a nonjudgmental stance, but also encourages us to see the humanity in us all with a spirit of humility- a virtue I very much value.

So maybe Jesus would be more of a friend than a foe if I were to meet him today?  Maybe we have more in common than I initially thought.  Maybe my first impressions were just that, first impressions.  Maybe there is a whole lot more there beneath the superficial surface of seeing Christians preachers on television on Sunday mornings and sitting in my Congregational Church as a child just for the point of sitting there.

In my last post I spoke of a book called The Great Work of Your Life by Stephen Cope.  In the introduction to his book, as Mr. Cope is setting the stage to discuss the general plot of the Bhagavad Gita, an important yogic text, he refers to a quote by Jesus that I had heard before, but was glad to be reminded of: "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you.  If you do not bring forth what is within you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you."  This is from The Gospel of Thomas.

More and more I read about Jesus in the context of other prophets and traditions, like Thich Nhat Hanh's book Living Buddha, Living Christ (a great read if you haven't read it already), and I find that I might have been selling this guy short.  Just because to me he is no more the son of god than you or I, does not mean that I might not gain and grow from his teachings. Perhaps my own previously narrow thinking about Christianity is a reflection of the very judgment that I had looked down upon in what I perceived from some of the Christians I have encountered.

So this month, in celebration of Jesus, I will honor virtues such as: nonjudgment, compassion and humility.  But, since I am a UU, probably more important for us than celebrating a prophet and his teachings, would be embodying these virtues in my day-to-day activities.  That is the task.  That is the challenge.  Taking dogma to where the rubber meets the road as it seems all lasting prophets did and do.  I will try.  Will you?

Split in Yogic Doubt

My 5 year-old son has pneumonia. Temperatures of 104.1 and 103.5 have scared the heck out of me these last few days.  I fear sleeping at night for worry I may miss a dosage of motrin or Tylenol, or both when we've not been able to get the fever under control with just the one. During these times all I want to do is be with him.  Hold him. Watch over him. But today I had to go to back to work, and it felt terrible.

It's not that my son was not well taken care of, he was.  My husband was home with him- which means my son was being watched like a hawk and fiercely loved by a total papa bear.  But the point is, I wasn't home.  I wasn't in the place, and with the person, where everything inside of me felt I should have been today.  An awful feeling that crystalized for me when my boss asked me how my son was doing, and my only response was to begin to tear up- and I'm no crier.

These work-home dilemmas are so challenging, and I know not unique at all to me.  Feeling split between two obligations or two desires, or both, is at times heartbreaking.  My colleague frequently makes light fun of me because I am always looking for the win-win in any given situation. But so much in life just does not allow for a win-win.  Many times it is a win-lose, and sometimes we must accept the inevitability of a lose-lose. I hate lose-lose situations.  I know "hate" is a strong word, but "hate" is the feeling that truly captures my reaction to a situation that I cannot produce a desirable outcome at least for somebody, even if not for me.

I recently read the introduction to a book called The Great Work of Your Life: a Guide for the Journey to Your True Calling by Stephen Cope, Resident Scholar at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health in Western Massachusetts. I had read another book by Mr. Cope, Yoga and the Quest for the True Self which was one of those books where every other page I was copying down his words and reflecting in my journal about a thought he had proposed. So, I kinda knew I'd enjoy his other work too.  But, imagine my surprise when the first topic he brings up in the introduction alone captures the essence of my current struggle.

Mr. Cope begins to orient the reader to the story behind the Bhagavad Gita, a very important book in the yogic tradition.  After learning about the central personalities of Arjuna and Krishna, Mr. Cope introduces the reader to the theme of "doubt." He describes "doubt" as an area of suffering where we are stuck between two powerful pulls. The quintessential rock and a hard place.  Where win-win is impossible.

He says:

"Until I began to wrestle with the teachings of the Bhagavad Gita, I thought that doubt was the least of my problems.  Grasping and aversion, the classic afflictions pointed to by the earlier yoga tradition, were much more obvious in my life.  However as I have begun to investigate the Gita's view on doubt, and as I begin to understand what doubt really is, I see it at work everywhere.  I've begun to see the ways-both small and large-in which I am paralyzed from action on a daily basis. Split. Replete with misgivings. Unsure. A foot on both sides of various dilemmas."

When I read this, I felt my own experience was being mirrored back to me in the most obvious of ways.  How strange when that happens. How serendipitous.

Mr. Cope adds that doubt in the yogic lineage is defined as a "thought that touches both sides of a dilemma at the same time...the paralyzing affliction." He says "it follows, then, that doubt is the central affliction of all men and women of action."  Compile that with a personality that is still caught at times in black and white categories of "right" and "wrong," and a perfect storm for inner conflict in the form of outward suffering has been created.

So what does one do? How does "a woman of action," as I am, not succumb to paralysis when making decisions between bad and worse or good and great? Where if one person wins, another will lose?

I suppose I'd be lying if I said I had the  answer to this. But I think there is value to posing the questions.  Maybe asking questions is a way to keep the soil loose and workable as in a garden, even if you are still far off from planting the seeds. Of course, having said that, if anyone out there has any wise suggestions, I'd be very open to that too!

Spiritual Inspiration from Civil Rights

The 3 C's: Courage, Compassion, Creativity. Civil Rights Activist Vincent Harding said these were the essential pieces of Dr. Martin Luther King's movement and philosophy. He also talked about Dr. King's "beloved community" and what he called a "love ethic." According to Dr. Harding, "love trumps doctrine every time." Dr. Harding died this year at the age of 82.

I think the legacy of his words and ideas, and others of like mind, are absolutely beautiful and lasting through time.  And I like to listen to veteran civil rights activists (from the 50's, 60's and 70's) talk about the spiritual and religious component to the Civil Rights Movement. That aspect of the movement, is one that was not part of my education as someone raised in a white, liberal, secular home.

Growing up I was taught a lot about the 19th & 20th century efforts for equality made in this country by people of color, women, and LGB folks (we didn't talk about T and Q folks yet).  Social activism. Civil rights. Gender equality. Anti-discrimination.  These were all very big themes to my childhood.  My parents, and particularly my mother, were adamant about me being well-educated on the history of oppression in this country, and particularly racism.  This meant I was to know about African American heroes like Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and of course Dr. Martin Luther King. I was to know about the freedom rides, the rash of lynchings, affirmative action, and the middle passage. I was to understand the importance of Brown Vs. Board of Education and defacto segregation which dominated New England urban and suburban areas.

But now, it seems strange to me that the religious and spiritual core of the civil rights movement was all but absent from my education.

I was reminded of this rather large and significant hole at church this past Sunday.  Our Reverend was not preaching and we had a guest minister, an African American minister, in our vastly white Unitarian Universalist church (outside and inside). In the sermon the guest minister talked to us about the situation in Ferguson, Missouri in which people have had weeks of protest in the street to voice their disdain for another unarmed black person being shot and killed with no apparent justice to follow in the legal system. The minister used the word "hopelessness" to describe some of the feelings that many people of color and particularly African Americans may be contending with. He said the following day, Monday, he planned to go to Ferguson himself to march with the people of Missouri in protest and solidarity.

You could argue this action is an antidote to hopelessness.  But I think it could be more.  Not speaking for the guest minister of my church, but for some people, action steps to challenge oppression are embedded in spiritual practice.  Working toward a beloved community. Engaging in nonviolent civil disobedience.  Standing up and responding from a place of love rather than hatred.  All of these seemingly impossible tasks, to me, are squarely in the camp of hard core spiritual practice.

And honestly, wouldn't they have to be? For a movement to sustain over time without giving in to the quicksand of hopelessness, self-pity, victim-stance, and cynicism that could be arguably valid for any variety of reasons?

Personally, I draw great inspiration from the spiritual lineage of the Civil Rights Movement.  As in, I draw in a deep breath that clears my mind and focuses my attention on the tremendous possibility available to us.  If the veteran civil rights activists were able to maintain their 3 C's: courage, compassion, and creativity in the face of brutal oppression and at times, threats or attempts to murder, I believe that I can too in the face of far, far less.  It is actually a daring and radical choice to act from a joyful, hopeful, loving, and faithful place. I dare you to try it today...I will try too.