The holiday season for many of us is filled with customs. I can remember as a child the yearly Christmas Eve candlelight service. My eyes would fill in wonder as the lights dimmed, the candles were lit, and the congregation sang Silent Night. I remember how grown up I felt when I could hold a lit candle by myself. Then there were other customs of leaving cookies for Santa, and the early morning rush to the tree to open presents. These were the customs, the “as usuals” I waited for every Christmas.
This season of the year is filled with customs; we all have them whatever our faith tradition. Some of these customs we continue to live out each holiday season, others we relive in the memories of our childhood. The customs, the “as usuals”, of our lives are important.
As we begin a New Year, it is easy to focus on the big stuff, but in truth it is the routines, the consistents, the “as usuals” upon which our life is defined and our character sits. As we enter this New Year, what are the “as usuals” that will define your life?
For the many years I have been practicing yoga, “letting go” has been a major theme for me. I have carried a deep conviction that yoga is a process of subtraction, not addition. To finally rest in the essence of who we are requires a discipline of letting go of all that stands in the way. I still hold this conviction, but on my recent trip to India I caught a glimpse of the importance of also “holding on.”
My final ten days in India were a unique opportunity to travel with a woman fondly called Sister Lucy. Born into a family of 9 children that barely had enough themselves, Lucy watched her father generously share with neighbors who had even less. Perhaps it was partly this influence that led her to become a Catholic nun whose goal was to serve the poor.
Through the circumstances she encountered, she developed a passion for the many children left to survive on the streets of India. Facing impossible circumstances, she began to take these children in, feeding them, getting them an education, teaching them to respect all religious traditions, and transforming them through love. To date, she, plus the committed housemothers and social workers who support her, have saved over 1000 children from the streets of India.
Has this been easy? Not at all. Sister Lucy continuously faces government corruption, lack of funds, and children who haven’t learned yet that love can be trusted. But Sister Lucy fiercely holds on. She holds on to each child. She holds on to her dream for all children. She holds on to the transformative effect of education, respect for all religions, and love.
Hold on? Yes, some things are worth fiercely holding onto.
For men, the traditional pant worn in India is a dhoti. A dhoti is one long piece of cloth wrapped around the body from the waist down to the ankles. Although this style provides some freedom of movement, there are certain restrictions placed on the body. One obvious restriction is speed. This garment does not allow a man to walk quickly. That fact alone can change the whole day and demeanor of the man. Because he has to walk slowly, he is able to be more relaxed, more aware, more available to the moment, and more available to life in general. The same can be said of women and their traditional saris.
I live in a culture that prides itself in the freedom of quick movement. In almost an instant I can have whatever I want: any drink of choice, any food of choice, access to temperature control to facilitate my comfort, the ability to order anything I “need” from an online catalog and have it delivered overnight or local access to 24 hour shopping, instant access to information and entertainment for my own pleasure and interest…and the list goes on. In my culture the speed of movement and availability are supposed to make my life easier; they are supposed to make my life enjoyable. But they don’t. In fact, what I notice is how much these things steal my life from me.
continue Reading →
“Love all and exclude none.” – Swami Rama
There is a growing misery on our planet. In response, we are witnessing many lines being drawn to shut out the plight of the suffering and marginalized. Hungary is building barricades to keep out Syrian refugees. Kim Davis, an elected government official in Kentucky, is drawing lines between who can and cannot receive a marriage license. Donald Trump, currently leading the Republican Party, promises to build a wall that will not only keep immigrants out, but will be paid for by the immigrants themselves. It is easy to draw lines to keep others out. It is easy to justify the walls we build. It is not easy to face the truth of why these lines are being drawn or to address these challenges with more than a guilt offering.
For those of us still somewhat safely removed from the pain of so many of the worlds inhabits, the time is ripe for self-examination. Distance can no longer be a place from which to live our lives; the world is asking more of us. Can we take this time to open to the pain and suffering that so many humans, animals, and other species are now feeling? Can we take this time to examine our own fear and the rigidness of the boundaries that fear creates? None of us can any longer afford to excuse ourselves from this deep soul searching the world is begging for.
continue Reading →
I have just spent a week with 3 of my grandchildren, all of whom are in their 20s. I love watching their uniqueness, love of life, and growing wisdom. I feel proud of them and hopeful about the future. But there is a problem. I also see the immense amount of stress they feel and the high standards they hold themselves to.
I want to shout, “No!” Don’t you see? The very fabric of the universe is love and delight and joy. Like the Creator of the universe whose being elicits endless possibility, potential, and play, we are here to dance, to sing, to be, to experience, to eat strawberries, to smell pine trees, to feel water caress our skin.
continue Reading →
I remember years ago taking my younger brother to the amusement park. His goal was to ride the roller coaster, one of the most daunting rides that existed at that time. I swallowed, bought the tickets, and soon we were strapped in our car. But as the ride began, my brother said, “Keep your arms straight up in the air and no screaming.” Not to be outdone, I obeyed, releasing my arms from their grip on the bar and hesitantly raising them overhead.
When the ride ended, my little brother had an exuberant smile on his face; his arms had unwaveringly kept their overhead position. I, on the other hand, was gripping the safety bar, realizing that somewhere along the ride I had forgotten to keep breathing. In stark contrast to my brother’s exhilaration, I was exhausted. We had been on the same ride with its extreme ups and downs and sudden jerks, but one of us was smiling; the other was not.
continue Reading →
I have always in my seeming affinity with trees, been curious about them. I have even felt a certain communion with them from time to time. To me, they seem so magnificent, content, bold, and courageous as they stand solidly on one foot. When the storms come, the trees sway with the wind, open to the rain, stay steady in the cold. They flourish where they are. They seem to have discovered a secret about living.
But what if trees could think like we can? Would they begin to complain constantly about their lack of mobility? About who they are stuck standing by? Would they become proud as others gawked at their magnificent display of fall colors? Would they feel envy as they looked around at other trees? Would they be constantly trying to fix themselves so they could be new, improved trees? Would they become anxious as the storms came, anxious as they aged, afraid of what awaited them?
Or perhaps trees can think, and they have somehow managed to master their thoughts, to find tranquility and a sense of wellbeing amidst the barrage of information and feelings that flow on the waves of thoughts. Perhaps trees weep as they watch us humans caught in conflict, slaves to a state of disturbance that sends us on missions of misery and destruction. Perhaps trees feel compassion for us as they watch our dysfunctional relationship with thoughts keep us unavailable to the full gift of existence.
Perhaps we humans could learn something from trees. Perhaps…
“Mom, do you know what I love about life? Nobody can tell me what to do because no one else is me so they don’t know what I’m capable of.” These words were recently spoken by my 7-year-old niece to her mother. Wow!
We now know that small seeds contain the blueprint for what they are to fully become; an oak seed becomes a giant oak tree and provides shade, a peach seed becomes a peach tree and bears fruit. This is true not only of plants, but for all living things; even a caterpillar’s spine outlines the blueprint for the butterfly it will someday become.
Only humans seem to get confused in their becoming. Only humans believe the limiting conditioning put on them. Only humans believe the messages of advertisers: that there is something missing, something wrong with them. Only humans spend money on “experts” to help them get “fixed”. Only humans forget that there is a unique blueprint within them that comes with a full set of instructions.
Yes, we need the support of others and healing from our trauma. Yes, we need the inspiration of great women and men and the advice of experts. Yes, we need the support of our friends and loved ones. Yes, we need the wisdom of great souls and the teachings of sacred traditions.
But ultimately, only the blueprint inside knows what we are capable of becoming. Whether we know this blueprint as the Holy Spirit or the inner Guru, this guidance is a constant gentle nudging to keep on becoming, if only we will leave ourselves alone long enough to listen.
Do you know what you are capable of?