Inspirations: POV

When someone we love leaves, it’s their mess, the originality of their marvelous salmagundi that we miss. You don’t long after excellence, or do you? I find myself missing the quirky, mis-shapen oddness, that funny, off-centered way they had of arriving, then departing, their bizarre sounds, that pitch perfect flaw, announcing they were within earshot. Many of us spend hours of effort toward a text book turn-out in order to fit in, climb the ladder, and be as close to perfect as possible. To come from another perspective is dangerous. Messes reveal us. They speak of an innate, intimate piece of who we really are. They express the opposite of the ideal facade, overcome in a moment of letting go. Those who bear witness when we are a mess know something deep and true about us, It is one of the great reasons we love our pets, perhaps our children, certainly great friends. Not only do they silently witness our abandoned moments without judgment, (until they become teens) but they are a mess, forcing us in to letting go of unimportant chich in order to love. And love we do, without preconceives, judgment, expectation, or hope of clean floors and clothes…lucky, lucky us. Asana: Viranchyasana/Seated lLg-Wrap Pose. (Viranchi is one of the names of Brahma, the first deity of the Hindu Trinity who created the world.)* *(B.K.S. Iyengar.) When you accomplish this pose, you too can create the world. This pose is a mess of arms & legs, and accomplishing it will make all your friends laugh. Sit with legs extended, bending R knee, place foot close to groin, or reverse it, placing foot beside L hip. grab L leg and pull it up over the head and around the back of the neck. (See what I mean?) Keep back… Read more »

Science used to believe only humans had the capacity of intelligence. They also believed men smarter than women, white men smarter than brown men, and that animals could not communicate, nor birds remember. Our innate arrogance blinds us to possibility. Scientists are discovering it may simply be a matter of syntax. Like E.T., we must phone home ground rules of communication. We need to learn their language, not understand them from ours. Scientific minds, particularly, seek proof, and rightly so, but sadly many seek proof from the same P.O.V. that made them blind. We cannot see new possibility from old perspectives. We cannot solve problems from ancient approaches that got us into trouble in the first place. “I’ll believe it when I see it” is the old matrix. “I’ll see it when I believe it,” is the imagination freeing the mind for more. Liberating ourselves to live up to our most profound intelligence asks we let go of every pre-conceived, that the needed evidence for brilliant breakthroughs does not lie only within the brain’s intelligence, rather the heart’s ability to sit on top of the brain to open new portals of comparative compassion. If I see you as different, less-than, subject to inanity, I cannot see you. I certainly can’t understand you. those prejudices not only close me to you, they harden my heart, closing me to myself, keeping me from any hope of intelligence, never mind growth. Surely we can create a more formidable way of being? Perhaps become creative as a cat? Brilliant as a bird? A doggone Doctor of Dog? Asana: Adho Mukha Svanasana/Down Dog. An easy way to move into Adho Mukha is either through a Sun Salutation, or from lying on the stomach, bringing palms beside chest, fingers forward, on exhale, lift abdomen and hips,… Read more »

Not to stand against men, or the men who wrote the biblical original ten. Not to declare myself as only a feminist. But what if the foundational ten had been written by a woman, actually it probably would have been, ‘women.’ Women tend to act from consensus rather than decree. They tend to listen first, declare after. And there might be more than one or two commandments ending in question marks. Here are ten, not from any consensus, nor from listening to ought by my own voice, and none question my right to ‘command.’ Enough said. I am the lord your god, you may have no other gods, and by the way, don’t take my name lightly. Spend time with me. This covers the first four edicts. What if it had been written, ‘all gods are good. Some are better than others. the one that lives in your heart is the most powerful. Listen to that voice, and take time to make it sacred with your love. Honor your father and mother. It’s amazing, considering the times, that mom was even mentioned. Had she written this she might have said, “Your parents make big mistakes. The family is a stinky compost pile out of which you might grow as a rose. Honor your gifts, despite how we gave them to you.” You shall not murder. This is a biggie by anyone’s standards, though countries encourage it. The positive aspect of murder is it teaches heaviness. Without that weight, we cannot know flight. We cannot be glorious if we don’t know wretchedness. And murder has remained wretched through every society, except TV’s, where we bow at its altar. You shall not commit adultery. Had women written this, retribution would have come with a knife, along with a visual cringe. Instead she… Read more »

We should be getting used to the high levels intensity by now. We should be good at dodging the jagged shards of careless and mean-spirited output. We should have been able to wrap ourselves in a cocoon of safety against someone else’s chaotic decisions and quixotic changes that affect our lives. It ain’t happening, nor will it until we can somehow change our perspective. If we could stand back and see the energy patterns as a grand mosaic urging us to shift, to grow soul-materia, instead of defensive bulwark, and if we could feel inspired by this imperative to move, to dissolve the status quo, instead of fearing its demise, then perhaps we would not be suffering. Remember that suffering comes only when we wish something to be other than what it is. If we could but see this Demon of dissolving ego and frustrated efforts as our Daimon, we wouldn’t care so much how we learned, only that we were learning and growing. Many philosophers and psychologists, beginning with the Greeks, have written on the Daimon. Heraclites felt that ‘character is Daimon.’ Plato called it ‘the supreme form of soul in us, a guiding genius.’ More recently, Rollo May said it was translated to the Latin as genii. Be that as it may, its root origin is from the Greek, ‘demon,’ which speaks of the complexity of our own personal guiding genius. Each of our angel/devil/ daimonic-guidance counselor leads its soul toward who they are to become. It doesn’t care how the soul learns, only that we learn, grow, and change to be who we are meant to be. This is the gift and the curse of earthly life. At this particular time we have the enormous gift of making many more soul-choices than usual, for we are in… Read more »

When someone is our mother it is impossible to see her as a person. This is true of anyone with a title relating us to them, such as, boss, lover, or grandfather. When it is a convoluted, deeply-tied, and tiered relationship, there are powerful forces at work to keep us from seeing. Mainly, we know only that piece called ‘the relationship,’ not the person, and certainly not the whole. I was reminded of this yesterday when a friend told me she had discovered a box of letters, written through the years to her mother, by people who had known her mother well. My friend turned to me and said, “I had no idea of this person they wrote to, wrote about, or related to. This was not the mother I knew.” This statement comes from a thoughtful, intelligent, caring daughter who is writing a memoir about her relationship to her mother. If she stands shocked, how much understanding do the rest of us have, who haven’t begun to question, or see the woman who gave us life? None. None of us have none. Knowing the mother or father who held the power of life throughout childhood, is akin to asking, “Who is God?” They were gods, for better or ill, and anyone who holds that kind of power is constrained by rigid standards, impossible to see or understand. Yes, we grow up….well, sometimes we grow up. We all grow older. But our vision of mother is one that is often arrested in development. How do we see the woman who suckled us at her breast, changed dirty diapers, and struggled with her life to save ours? To comprehend her, and that relationship, we must begin a deep inner journey of exploration and revelation. We must be willing to stand on… Read more »

The fact that this is a true story is un-important. The fact that I not only remember it many years later, and it continues to re-affirm and re-create an inner compassionate space, is its vitality. Once upon a time, twenty years ago, my newly wed husband and I flew off to Hawaii to escape over-amped L.A. lives. We decided going native a more enticing idea than staying in a chi-chi hotel. This reasoning found us on a steep hillside looking for hidden bungalows, not only remote, but bathroom-less. Unbeknownst to us, we had not left our ‘big-city-selves’ behind yet. We were irritated, even uppity of spirit, which we expressed as we tried to find the office and someone to speak to. We called out, we knocked, we stood crankier by the L.A. minute. Finally a very large Samoan man, rose from his hidden bed, and slowly padded our way. I thought, ‘Oh great—slow, sleepy and dumb. What were we thinking to come here?’ He stood passively, silent, waiting. Allan asked, “Do you have a night’s rental?’ “Yes.” “Can we see it?” “Yes.” Beat… beat…. beat… “Is it far?’ “You should drive.” We took that to mean, ‘you out of shape, Haoles.’ Is there a key?” “No.” Keyless and clueless, we get in the car, in a dialogue as funky as the dirt path. “Can you believe that guy?” “What a slob.” “And my, God, so slow.” “Maybe his brains were in his feet?” Hopeless!” With that attitude, you don’t think we were going to see the hidden, romantic hideaway we had envisioned? What we find is a childhood version of a tree house on stilts, with light shining through the walls. Because we remain on a hard-drive L.A. chich, we decide it is not for us. We return to the… Read more »

I heard myself whining the other day and thought, “You wuse.” I then had judgment added to remorse. All of that weight when I could have had a V-8. I could have had a ‘WoW’ moment instead of a whine-one. I was complaining that someone had backed out on my expectations. I could have seen with different eyes and said, “WoW, how lucky am I they backed out. Clearly they were not the right person for me at this time. Saved by the Universe once again.” I was driving behind a wee, old man, going 15 miles an hour and I was chomping at the bit, railing against his driving. I could have gone into reverse and thought, “WoW, I’m so lucky I don’t have to drive with that much fear.” Or “WoW, he might be saving me from a speeding ticket …never mind an accident.” Then there are the larger WoW factors. Flying, for one, the telephone for another. We all grouse about the state of flight, but WoW, I’m sitting in a chair in the air, crossing the country in hours, not days, weeks, even months, which is what it used to take, and we often died covering those same miles. It often took weeks if not days for letters to cross the miles. Now the telephone transports us instantly, including those calls begging for money. Before whining about them, I’m taking a WoW moment of gratitude that I am not that person. And that I can pick up the small black/red/green plastic box and be instantly and intimately with a friend. Before you know, we will be fitted with ear-pods on birth to connect ‘telepathically. WoW! In the WoW of this moment I’m accepting a new job. It is to remain amazed and in awe, especially during… Read more »

Leaving the non-duality of paradise for an earthly incarnation, we must abandon Eden, that somewhere faaaaabulous Garden of perfection. When we choose to eat of the apple, i.e. open our eyes and see, we open Pandora’s Box of tricks. Taking that hard right turn out of the Garden leaves us vulnerable to imperfection. This is grating when we hold a cellular memory of being faaaabulously perfect. If you don’t think you struggle here, think again. Remember the last time you beat yourself up for not hitting the mark you thought you should? Or every time you say to yourself, “Oh, how stupid can I be?” That tyrannical voice remembers Eden, and holds us to some perfect image, a time when we could do no wrong. We could do no right either. We did not work with polarities. Without sight, there is no light or dark, good or bad. Lucifer’s light of sight and conscious choices, has to wait until we stumble and free fall to earth. This is all ancient history, but consider a modern twist. What if the way back to Eden is to open ourselves to every polarity, accommodating every fear, vice, with bad habits as extra, and accept that they all live our greatness? What if the only thing blocking our way back is that we remain blind to our ability to accept who we are? Perhaps we are already what we most desire? Perhaps, with wider eyes, we would see the soul’s choice to fall from Grace, struggle, flop around, fail, learn, flop some more, and grow, despite knowing we were perfect all along? That would be a BIG OINK. We are learning to take the blinders off. Sometimes blinders are good. They help keep us focused on the path when life spins us off. They… Read more »