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Days after writing the Champions post, where I said “never lose your muchness”, I awoke to a day when I declared softly: I have lost my muchness.  I forgot my own rule of thumb, never say never.  Never and its cousin, always, rules out another little thing called human-ness.

There I was, feeling alone in the suchness of losing my muchness.  As Emmanuel, once said: “if darkness were my natural home, I would be comfortable there.”  I wasn’t comfortable there and because I am a friend to me, I knew I had to take myself by the hand and find my way back to my light, my muchness.

Some of you may remember Abraham’s reference to having our pencil in the fan.  These days they call it “out of the vortex”.  I still like the pencil in the fan concept.  It’s such a perfect analogy of how I can impede my muchness.  So I developed a plan to turn back toward my muchness.  I call it my Emergency Pencil-in-the-Fan kit:

1.   move about mindfully
2.   whatever negative inner talk is going on, stop and ask what would a friend say to you right now, listen to what that friend has to say
3.   walk with your gaze outward and upward
4.   take 4 deep conscious breaths, up from the toes and exhale back down into the toes, feel yourself grounded to the earth
5.   tell yourself nothing is more important than being in your own corner, a solid friend to you
6.   eat something that had it’s roots in the earth, eat it slowly and mindfully
7.   surround yourself with the structure and support of doing what’s before you to do and doing it mindfully
8.   close your eyes, take one more deep breath, and as you exhale, feel your shoulders drop, drop into the body sense of “I am a friend to me”
9.   remember that whatever you are believing is based on untrue reasoning.  You may not know that now but you will as soon as your pencil is out of the fan.
10. move about mindfully

I made nos. 1 and 10 the same because if I did nothing else on that list, that alone would suffice.  It will ground you in the present moment.  This is what Eckhart Tolle says about the present moment:

“Once you have reached a certain level of consciousness, you are able to decide what kind of relationship you want with the present moment. Do I want the present moment to be my friend or my enemy? The present moment is inseparable from life, so you are really deciding what kind of a relationship you want to have with life. Once you have decided you want the present moment to be your friend… Life becomes friendly toward you… One decision changes your entire reality. But that one decision you have to make again and again and again – until it becomes natural to live in such a way.”

A word about mindfulness movement, several words actually!  It means dropping into the body, aware of every movement you make.  While walking feel each part of your foot strike the surface, note texture of the surface you are walking on, the air moving across your body.  Reach to open a cabinet, note the arm extending outwards, fingers touch surface, texture and temperature of surface.  Hand encircles a cup or a plate, feel each tiny movement.  Note the sounds, the textures, the temperature, smells, tastes, movement of the body.  Practice it before you find your pencil in the fan and you will easily be able to fall back into it when you are feeling wonky.  For more information on mindfulness, I recommend reading The Long Road Turns to Joy by Thich Nhat Hanh.

This is what Thich Nhat Hanh says about the importance of mindfulness:

“… consciousness is said to be a field, a plot of land in which every kind of seed has been planted, seeds of suffering, happiness, joy, sorrow, fear, anger, and hope.  The quality of our life depends on which of these seeds we water.  The practice of mindfulness is to recognize each seed as it sprouts, and to water the most wholesome seeds whenever possible.”

Thich Nhat Hanh also recommends repeating a Zen Buddhist poem while walking mindfully:

“I have arrived.
I am home
in the here,
in the now.
I am solid.
I am free.
In the ultimate
I dwell.”

May we all arrive home, solid and free.

I was going through my homemade well being cards today.  These particular ones are on my dresser.  I pick one for the day or week, whatever speaks to me at the moment.  I came across this one:

What can you let yourself have today?

What can I let myself have today?

I can let myself have peace today.

Deep breath.

I can hear the sounds of God at work outside my window.

Another deep breath.

I can feel my own Godness at work, a beating heart, lungs filling and emptying.

Breathing in God, breathing out God.

Minding emptying itself.

Peace.

“Non-identification … stop taking the experience as me or mine  We inquire of every state or experience: is this who I really am?  We see the tentativeness of this identity, then we are free to let go and rest in awareness itself.  This is what Buddhist psychologists call the abode of awakening, the end of clinging.  True peace.  Nirvana.  No longer bound by fears and illusions of the small sense of self.”  Jack Kornfield, The Wise Heart

I’ve been listening to the audio version of this book.  I do highly recommend this book though I would think twice about buying the audio version.  He’s not the liveliest speaker I’ve come across.  Sorry, Mr. Kornfield!

So, I’ve actually been using the question … is this who I really am? … for any unwanted feeling.  It’s a great tool to disengage from that feeling before I become emotionally flooded in a whirlwind of attendant thoughts.  Try it the next time you feel fear or jealousy or anxiety, for instance.  Notice where you are headed and ask yourself: is this who I really am?  Most of the time your answer will be – no, it is not.

Most of the time.  I hit upon one exception so far.  Asked the question and I received the immediate response of yes.  This was very telling about what I take to be real.  Rather than wrestle that baby to the ground, I’ll lead with — just for now, that’s how it is.  That’s another concept mentioned by Jack Kornfield.  It’s a radical acceptance.  Seems there’s always so much resistance to what is unwanted it starts a perpetual dance of push, pull where nothing really changes.  Jack Kornfield terms this resistance, flavors of “the wish it weren’t so”.  Yet it is, so why not accept it, just for now, or as they say in 12 step, Just for Today.

I think I’ll add to “just for now” an open curiosity.   In the same manner that I can witness or watch myself in a dream, I can do this consciously — witness with non-attachment in the awake state.  I can ask myself — what is it like to believe this?  Where do I feel it in the body?  What thoughts belong to this belief?  How do those thoughts feel?

And finally … Where is my Spirit in all of this?  This gently leads me back to the original question — is this who I really am?  I already feel a softening of beliefs.  An opening has been created into what is possible, and what was taken to be the truth, begins to quietly fall away.

A dash of rain upon

The lotus leaves. But the leaves

Remain unmarked, no matter

How hard the raindrops beat.

Mind, be like the lotus leaves,

Unstained by the world.

~Chong Ch’ol~
Music of the Sky
An Anthology of Spiritual Poetry

Yes, mind be like the lotus leaves, untainted by outer events.  As in the lotus leaf, rooted, grounded in the consciousness of God.  Only this moment now.

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle.  But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.”  Thich Nhat Hanh

Sometimes I forget I live miracles every day but I’m never all that far from remembering.  Fingers typing, wind a’blowing outside my window, leaves a’falling.  Then stillness, followed by the sounds of a backyard swollen stream.  Eyes to see it with, ears to hear it, fingers to touch.

In one conscious breath I can propel myself to any place I want.  Today I am the spirit of a babe, without judgment or perspective even.  It’s all new and shiny.  It’s all a miracle.  I am a miracle living inside of miracles.

Now — I’ll return to the daily tasks of cleaning up cat throw up (it’s all over the house!), doing laundry, paying bills, washing dishes.  I get to do that.  I get to live inside a miracle where there are cats and warm water to clean our dishes, our clothes.  I get to enter and be a part of this beautiful dance, the exchange of resources.

I won’t expect miracles today.  No … today I will live them.

Only this moment

now

How shall I fill it?

with all my history

the pain, the triumph

or

shall I meet this moment

open, emptied

Only this moment

now

Who shall I be?

I asked the leaf whether it was frightened because it was
autumn and the other leaves were falling.  The leaf told me,
“No.  During the whole spring and summer I was completely
alive.  I worked hard to help nourish the tree, and now much
of me is in the tree.  I am not limited by this form.  I am also
the whole tree, and when I go back to the soil, I will continue
to nourish the tree.  So I don’t worry at all.  As I leave this
branch and float to the ground, I will wave to the tree and tell
her, ‘I will see you again very soon.’”

That day there was a wind blowing and, after a while, I saw
the leaf leave the branch and float down to the soil, dancing
joyfully, because as it floated it saw itself already there in the
tree.  It was so happy.  I bowed my head, knowing that I have
a lot to learn from the leaf.

Thich Nhat Hanh
Peace Is Every Step: The Path of Mindfulness in Everyday Life

“This day will not come again.” ~ Thomas Merton

First blush of morning erupts
Songbirds usher in fresh beginnings

* * *

This day shall not come again

* * *

Summer afternoon arrives on the tuft of a breeze
Expectant sunflowers bow their ample heads

* * *

This day shall not come again

* * *

Evening huddles in city streets and forests
Day surrenders to the gentle hush of another night

* * *

This, too, shall not come again

©heartsdeesire

What would wholeness say?

I love asking the question; it seems to prompt a feeling of slipping my arms into the sleeves and cloak of wholeness.   Wholeness spoke quietly and tenderly just a few things to me -

You are a blessed being.
You are perfect just as you are.
You are innocence.

And perhaps if Rumi were by my side right now, he’d peer over my shoulder and whisper in my ear:

inside this new love, die.  Your way begins on the other side.

In my last found poem, combining Rumi and Rilke, Rumi’s Quietness comprised the last verse.  Here it is, in it’s entirety, the words below and the words, set to music and images by Rahmama at youtube.  It is absolutely spectacularly, breathtakingly beautiful!

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You’re covered with thick clouds.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you’ve died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
The speechless full moon
comes out now.

This side of heaven, where do you suppose this side of heaven is?

“It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain.”

So said the rubyslipper-ed one just before she sung that unforgettable song: Over the Rainbow.

Behind the moon, beyond the rain…is it really that far away?  Or is it found within each of us?  Is it found in between the spaces of
judgment about ourselves – that field that Rumi spoke of?
Is it found in opening to our innate creativity?  Is it where our
dreams lie?  Where imagination comes alive?  Is it in the little
forgivenesses we give ourselves and others?

Is it in that moment we took to consciously take a breath?  Is it now, when I end this entry, step outside, look up, look around, point my face to the sun, breathe in the beauty of today and stay there for a good long time?

Unencumbered
Free
Free to just simply
be