Lambs Do It

The other morning I saw a flock of sheep and lambs. The lambs ranged in age from recently born ones who followed their mothers on very shaky legs to some slightly older ones.

The older lambs were learning that legs were perfect for leaping and bouncing and frolicking through the meadow. They expressed their joy at being alive in bodies with every careless kick of their heels.

Later on, when I was thinking about what I’d seen, I thought, “The magic is that they are whole and perfect. They don’t doubt themselves or lack self-esteem. They don’t hear voices telling them they should be cleaning or writing worrying about the future. They will never know guilt.”

And I wondered why I couldn’t be like that. That question turned out to have its own magic because it sliced away the layers of guilt and “should” and self-doubt and the long list of things I should change about myself. At my core, I’m as whole and as perfect as the lambs—but most of the time, I forget that.

What’s the difference between me—and you—and the dancing lamb or the fawns who raced through my former back yard or the bright-eyed curiosity of baby raccoons? It could be those big brains that humans take pride in. Anyone who has ever upgraded their operating systems knows that each new upgrade creates many chances for error.

Imagination, for example, is a great human gift, and I count it as a priceless upgrade, but it doesn’t discriminate between imagining the best and imagining the worst.

Maybe the biggest problem is that the initial user’s manual we get to go with our big brains is the long set of instructions we get from our parents. Animal parents also instruct their children but mostly about real dangers—like humans. Our parents teach us about dangers that may or may not ever come to pass.

This leads to the unique human mental/emotional state called anxiety. It’s difficult to kick up your heels when you’re worried about what might happen in thirty years.

If I want to experience that I’m perfect, I need to live less in the past, where I learned all the things I should worry about and all the things for which I should judge myself. I also need to stop taking all those worries and judgments and expecting more of them in the future.

That’s called living in the present. That’s what lambs do. We can do it, too. Photo credit: Keven Law, Los Angeles, USA

Songs That Inspire Me

As a writer, I often find myself in awe at the gift of poets and songwriters to say in a few words what may take me pages.

This week I'm sharing two songs that have recently inspired me.

The first many of you will know: "Dear Prudence," by the Beatles (from the White Album). The song was inspired by Mia Farrow's sister, Prudence, who was with the Beatles in India at the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's weeks-long retreat in Rishikesh, India. Prudence was intent on learning Transcendental Meditation well enough to teach it and stayed in her room most of the time. The Beatles were worried about her and tried to draw her out. Though they didn't succeed, they wrote the song. (For more detailed information, see this article.

For me, the song is a hymn to being in the present moment. You can listen to it here.

The second song, "You'll Never Be the Sun," was written by Irish songwriter Donagh Long. This version is sung by Irish singer Delores Keane and American singer Emmylou Harris. Many other versions are around, but this is my favorite. "Life is tough, but you'll get through it" has rarely been expressed so poetically. You can listen to it here.

A Mindfulness Meditation

Because today it is almost too hot to think (whenever I try, I feel brain cells melting), I am doing a very short post, a poem I wrote an introduction to a seminar I led on mindfulness. Re-reading it has reminded me to be mindful and to look for those aspects of the present moment that I can enjoy.

I have an appointment with life.

It is here,

It is now.

I free myself from the stale air of the past.

I smile at the imaginary darkness of the future.

Breathing in,

Breathing out,

I open my heart to the miracle of the present moment.

Mindfulness and the Bodhisattva

In Mahayana Buddhism (practiced in Tibet, China, Vietnam, Japan, Korea, and Indonesia), a bodhisattva is someone who intends to become awake in order to liberate others. While most of us wake up wondering, “What can I do to make myself happy?”, the bodhisattva begins each day wondering what he or she can do to make others happy.

To do so, they don’t sink into self-hood (or ego), which they recognize as a false creation of the mind. It’s a state of “me-ness” that goes against the natural condition of oneness. Trying to hold the self apart and protected causes tension and pain. When threatened, the “me” gets angry. Observing “me’s who present more successful façades causes envy.

I was sure that this “me” obstacle would disqualify me for even baby bodhisattva status. Like many people working on spiritual awareness, I was always bumping into a stubborn ego. In the midst of wondering, I came across this quote by Thich Nhat Hanh:

“A bodhisattva doesn't have to be perfect. Anyone who is aware of what is happening and who tries to wake up other people is a bodhisattva. We are all bodhisattvas, doing our best.”

That opened new possibilities. I recognized that being mindful of my habitual negative (ego-driven) thoughts ultimately means accepting them instead of trying to bury them. The way to selflessness is not around the troublesome self but through it.

Developing deeper self-esteem satisfies the need for attention of an entity I have come to see as a lonely and generally unhappy three-year-old who built an ego to clothe her naked needs.

Self-acceptance provides a better wardrobe. The warmly dressed and deeply loved child who has assumed ego form can retreat to become the inner child who supports one’s joy, creativity, and faith. With that foundation, it becomes possible to turn one’s attention to the needs of others.

When we clear out space to accept ourselves as we are, we learn to accept others as they are. That kind of acceptance teaches us kindness and generosity.

We can say, “Just like me, this person suffers, feels guilty, has made mistakes, and wants to experience love.” Every time we recognize ourselves in another, we expand our capacity for mindful compassion.

This is surely the path of a bodhisattva.

Mindfulness and the Seth Material

Many people come to their awareness about the importance of the present moment through Buddhism. I am not one of them.

In recent years, books by Thich Nhat Hanh have helped me to use some new approaches for focusing on mindfulness, but my initial awareness of its importance came from The Nature of Personal Reality by Jane Roberts, who channeled the nonphysical entity, Seth.

To believe that such beings existed and that their information had value was my first challenge. However, once I started the book, that doubt vanished. My overwhelming sense was that not only was this information true but that I was being reawakened to something I’d always known.

Here is the essence of Seth’s message.

“The truth is this: You form your reality now, through the intersection of soul in flesh, and the present is your point of power.”

Seth goes on to explain that only the present moment has reality. We create both our past and our future within the present.

Rewriting the Past and the Future

The idea that we can change the past can challenge us. Here’s an example. A few days ago, I was having an episode of feeling sorry for myself because I felt abandoned by someone. When I thought about my past, I remembered all the times, from early childhood on, when I had felt abandoned.

I was seeing myself as a victim. Seth views this differently, saying, “You get what you concentrate on. There is no other main rule.”

If I concentrate on abandonment, I reorganize and rewrite the past so that this condition dominates my experience of it. To say I’ve always been abandoned implies that this pattern will continue in the future. This is really an energetic directive whose essence is: “It’s familiar; keep it coming.”

The future plays out according to my instructions. This confirms my belief, and I say, “See, I was right. Everyone abandons me.” Past, present, and future become a closed loop, invisible to mindfulness and awareness.

Let’s Not Rub Out Emotions

I’m not advocating repression of or resistance to emotions. Our emotions exist to tell us where we need to focus healing in the present moment.

If I’m feeling abandoned, I want and need to be mindful of that feeling. I will say, “Yes, I accept that I feel this way in this moment.” I will go a step further by tracing this emotion to my emotions regarding past events, and I will apply energetic healing methods (mostly meridian tapping) to them.

I will also remind myself about experiences when I felt included and loved. I will bring the feeling of those experiences into the present moment and concentrate on them.

Above all, I commit to being aware of what I’m thinking and feeling in the present moment. I choose to respect the immense power of the Now, which is my power.

And it is yours.

The point of power is in the present.

If you practice mindfulness in a Buddhist tradition, you might find it useful to explore the Seth perspective. The following link will take you to an article on sethnet.org, where you will find some valuable descriptions of the Seth Material.

To read Thich Nhat Hanh’s perspective on the present moment, see Our Appointment with Life: Sutra on Knowing the Better Way to Live Alone.

Mindfulness Means Looking and Listening.

It’s easy to get the idea that being in the present (which basically means being mindful) means you’re not focused on the past or the future. You’re paying attention to the here and the now. Doing, however, isn’t as easy as knowing.

The Key Word is “Focus.”

Being mindful doesn’t mean ignoring the past or future. Some attention to each has purpose.

For example, when you are planning to mail something, you might remember that you once mailed a package without insuring it or making sure that it had a tracking number. Therefore, you decide that you will be sure to take both of these steps when you mail this package. This demonstrates a simple and practical reference to both past and future.

Sometimes, though, we complicate it. In remembering the lost package, you might berate yourself, wondering why you were so stupid. You might recall all the trouble that resulted from that lost package.

You might go about trying to enjoy your day, but you find yourself unable to lose yourself in a good book or exercise because whenever you start to relax, you tell yourself, “I have to remember about the package. And what if it gets lost, anyway?” You begin to worry.

When Identity Gets Involved

This week I had a lost-package issue. I needed to send the original copy of a necessary legal document to someone else. I was vocal about my reluctance to do this, but the authorities in the situation insisted.

Then it appeared that the document got lost. My first reaction was, “Why didn’t they listen to me?” (a variant of “I told you so.”). My second was “Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?”

I was flooded with memories from my childhood when it seemed that no one had listened to me, accompanied by pain and anger. None of it was fun, but the opportunity occurred to step back and see how these childhood incidents had given rise to beliefs that filtered my present experience and influenced the future. I believed that no one listened to me, and I got evidence for that belief.

Mindfulness Can Help Clear Out the Past

I’m not going into specific details about the method I used. It’s called EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique), and if you haven’t heard about it, you can read more here.

It’s not the only method that works. People can get relief through meditation, mindful breathing, and other techniques. The vital first step is to recognize that a persistent regret or worry or any negative emotion is keeping you from fully experiencing the present. Once you have that mindful awareness, you’re on your way.

By the way, so was my document. I got it yesterday.

Mindfulness and Perfectionism

Someday I will be perfect. Everything will be fixed. I will have no reason to worry about my failures because I won’t have any. I won’t have to worry about anyone’s judgment. I will be perfect, and so will my life.

Probably, most people wouldn’t admit to believing the above, at least not in such blatant form, but when I ask myself if I’m happy with myself exactly as I am, I can always think of many things that need to be improved before I can say yes, which means I’m saying no.

This means that I can’t fully appreciate the present moment. Mindfulness means acceptance. More than that, it means appreciation for oneself and for one’s circumstances and surroundings—for everything that is in one’s awareness in the present moment.

This became especially clear to me when I was reading The Peaceable Kingdom, by Jan de Hartog, a novel about the founding of the Friends as a religion and its development in the U.S. At one point, Margaret Fell, who was in many ways the organizing force behind the Quaker movement, had intense doubt about her motives. Finally, she said, “God, You’ll have to accept me just as I am.”

My initial response was “Yes!” Upon reflection, I thought that it isn’t anyone outside of me who has to accept me just as I am. I’m the one who needs to unconditionally accept myself.

Where, I wondered, did that leave perfection? I explored this word from a different angle. In the past, I’d always seen it as a static, frozen condition. What if perfection, too, could reflect the present moment? What if it could be a dynamic state, as in: “I can only be who I am. I accept this reality in the here and now. I am perfect just as I am.”

I have noticed that when I’m pursuing a line of thought that’s true for me, the universe drops helpful psychic bread crumbs along the trail. I’m sure that’s why a few days later, I discovered this statement by the psychologist, Carl Rogers:

“The curious paradox is that when I accept myself as I am, then I change. What I am is good enough if only I would be it openly.”

We don’t wait until we’re good enough to earn self-acceptance; when we accept ourselves, we are always good enough.

The Mindful Smile(with thanks to Thich Nhat Hanh)

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”

Last week, I needed to smile, and I remembered that Thich Nhat Hanh frequently writes about the importance of smiling. I’ve collected some of my favorite quotations for this blog post.

The following explains why smiling is so powerful.

“When you don’t have joy and you smile, that is a real practice. You know there are something like 300 muscles, small and big on your face. Every time we get very angry or worried, all these muscles are very tight. When people look at you with that tension on your face, they don’t see you like a flower. People are afraid of you when all the muscles on your face are tense like that. You look more like a bomb than a flower.

But if you know how to smile, in just one second, all these muscles are relaxed and your face looks like a flower again. It’s wonderful…”

I’ve learned that smiling, even (or maybe especially) when I don’t feel like it, can indeed be the source of joy—or at least of a major mood shift.

Smiling means that we are ourselves, that we are not drowned into forgetfulness.

To smile restores my attention to the present moment. When I’m unsmiling and frantic, gloomy, or angry, I’m not usually experiencing the fullness of the present moment. I may be brooding over a past insult or rejection. I may be worrying about something in the future.

Suffering is not enough. Life is both dreadful and wonderful...How can I smile when I am filled with so much sorrow? It is natural—you need to smile to your sorrow because you are more than your sorrow.

To shift our focus to smiling helps us to focus on the present moment. A smile opens the door to appreciation. With a smile, we may go outside and enjoy the cloud-swept sky or the tender buds that will soon become leaves. We may pause to think of the people in our lives whom we love and value. We may smile to our sorrows and fears as we would to a small child who needs our love and comfort.

Thich Nhat Hanh offers this short meditation:

Breathing in, I calm body and mind.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is the only moment.

Thanks for reading this. I smile to you.

Here's something else to make you smile, "Smile," sung by Nat King Cole.