As Myself

Why is it so hard to love ourselves? The great spiritual traditions all insist that we love and accept ourselves almost as a prerequisite to "entering the kingdom" or achieving enlightenment. Psychologists concur that self-love is pretty much the root of all goodness. Twelve-step literature believes that self-love is the primary task of recovery.

So, if we "know" that self-love is the answer, why is it so impossible to achieve? I heard someone say the other night: "It takes 100 positive encounters or thoughts to unseat a single negative one." Certainly, that appears to be true. If someone slights us or appears to slight us, we ruminate on that slight for a long time and increase its power over us. Seriously, how many of us go straight to a mirror and say to our own image, "You're good enough! You're beautiful and smart."

A question that I'm trying to ask myself when I feel slighted or discouraged is: What would I say or do for a child that I know if he/she was feeling this way? I had an experience this week where a three-year-old came up to me and seemed a little downcast. I asked what was wrong and he said something happened at preschool. I pursued it and he told me a girl had told him to "Go away." I told him that wasn't very nice. He went on to say that she said it in a mean tone. I asked him how that made him feel. In the end, the girl apologized to him. He understood that she apologized and yet the sting of that "mean" tone and the words "go away" were with him. I hugged him and told him I'd never tell him to go away.

How interesting that he took the negative from the exchange and fretted over it! How true for grown-ups as well! If I have an intense exchange with someone, I hear the point in the exchange where that person called me a name and I don't think about all the problems we solved in the conversation. I don't think about the time we both took to spend with each other and talk this through. I think about the one moment where the person slipped and acted like a three-year old calling names.

Self-love, if I follow the example of the little boy, would tell a friend the feelings and seek comfort. It's that simple and that difficult. If it takes a hundred postives to undo at one hurt, then the first step is to share the burden with someone else. I can talk to myself positively as well, but I once was a little girl who was hurt and had no one to share the hurt with. Today, I need to practice sharing that hurt with a friend and with the Big Dude.

It's been four days since I was hurt and I haven't shared it with one person. I have a lot to learn. If I'm going to love my neighbor "as myself," I'd better get cracking. Roxie

Sprituality and Jerry Sandusky

All the great ones forgive. They forgive everyone. How can that be? Who can forgive Jerry Sandusky? or Hitler? Who can forgive everyone?

Perhaps it's not about forgiveness. If we think of forgiveness as an action that we have to take, almost against our own judgement and will, then it's tough. Maybe the spiritual equivalent of forgivess is actually moving ourselves to a higher plane where the actions and choices of others are just that: actions and choices. Maybe we get to a place where they're not BAD actions or BAD choices, just the choices of a fellow human.

I'm not there yet but I did find myself oddly conflicted about Jerry Sandusky. I was outraged during his trial feeling that he was a monster and needed to be locked up forever. On the one hand, I still think that. On the other hand, I hear the voice of Jesus saying, "Visit the imprisoned."

Now that he is safely locked away and I know no more children will be hurt by him, I feel compassion. He is, after all, just a lost dog in a way. A happy-go-lucky pit bull who thirsted for children. As a culture, we didn't restrain him. I didn't know him to be able to intervene personally.

Whom DO I know? Who lives in my world unrestrained and doing damage while I turn a blind eye? Me! What parts of me fly out and hurt others while I deny them and the damage they do? When I respond impulsively to another person or situation, without reflection, I risk doing damage. Freud said we, humans, have an Id capable of great creativity and great destruction. Our task is to use spiritual pratice to guide this impulsive force towards the greater good.

When asked if he was sexually attracted to young boys, Sandusky said, "I enjoy their company. I like to be with them." This positive impulse created a camp for children. Unrestrained, buoyed up by status and power and admiration from the community, this boyish enthusiasm turned into destruction and perversion.

The ancients knew too much enthusiasm and too much power would destroy us. Icarus with youthful imagination and drive flew too close to the sun and fell to his death. Shakespeare alludes to the wheel of fortune whereby those who rise to the top of the wheel surely shall also sink to the bottom.

In 12-Step terminology, addiction to any substance or action that keeps us from facing our true and spiritual nature will eventually bring about our destruction. So, turn off electronic devices, stop drinking or using, stop gambling or indulging your sexual impulses. Invoke a higher power and a higher vision. Forgiveness becomes moot.

Jerry Sandusky and all of us are on a spiritual journey. Maybe he has to be locked up all his life so that he can take the next step. (Let us hope that some higher being is protecting and guiding the children he harmed.) Maybe I have to be chained to an aging body that doesn't work so well so that I can take that step. Maybe we have to lose jobs, have heart attacks, get cancer, lose children, and face death before we see our own deadly sins and let them go.

It's easy to be spiritual on the ocean or in the mountains. We feel a larger presence. We also need to see the spirituality in the fall, when the wheel of fortune throws us down. Roxie

Mea Culpa and My Higher Power!

It's been awhile since I've posted. The Big Dude seems to have his back to me, arms folded, attention going elsewhere. Or, maybe that's me standing with my back turned, arms folded, and looking elsewhere.

Spirituality has been coming to me from 12-step rooms. My higher power has been knocking on the door and I confess I'm leaning against the door some of the time trying not to let it in. Why is that?

A higher power is probably the most appealing of all spiritual concepts. First of all, it's more like a guardian angel than a god. Each of us, they say, has a higher power of our own. I think of it as me rising to my highest self, joining with a power or energy greater than myself. This higher force is in touch with a vision and design beyond what I can see. That's such a reasonable, mystical essence. It's the best of both worlds. A human mind devoting itself to the best development of humans hand-in-hand with a guiding light that is leading the human to its greatest potential.

How bad can that be? Well, it is kind of scary. Part of the deal is that you surrender your will. Yes, it's reassuring to be joined with a higher good. And it's terrifying. In this form of spirituality, the emphasis isn't on free will or choosing the good. The emphasis is on surrender, giving your will, your WILL over to an unknown force.

Most of us have fought hard to grow up and survive. It took a lot of character and will to get where we are. Granted, where we are is not always that great, but still giving up what little control I have over my own destiny scares me. How about you? Can we all surrender our wills to a higher being despite our doubts that such a being exists or has our best interests at heart?

Can we accept that our personal best interest, what we would choose for ourself, might not be in the greater vision? That's hard and yet I think it IS the path embedded in almost every spiritual tradition. So, I've been busy working my way through the 12 Steps and finding comfort in the infamous fellowship rooms.

Those rooms are incredibly spiritual. There's something about 30 people sitting together speaking their truths and their struggles. Listening to each other. Saying the Serenity Prayer together. Agreeing not to interrupt each other or to judge each other. Agreeing not to share anything about the people who are there. Agreeing that the most recent newcomer is as important as the most seasoned veteran (the last shall be first?) or even more important. There emerges a quiet and a serenity that surprises me. Roxie

The Word Made Flesh

"Just call out my name and you know wherever I am, I'll come running (dum, dum, dum) to see you again." Sometimes it's like that with the Big Dude or our Higher Power or the Universal Force (choose one). The other night I was feeling lonely and missing my children and family of origin. I asked for help (begged) and then I went out to walk my dog in the dark. A car stopped alongside me as I was walking on the edge of the road. The driver powered down the window and a woman I used to know called out, "Are you ok? I heard you were ill and, hey, just call me and I can come over and help, walk your dog or whatever." Hmmmm. The next morning, I went out again to walk my dog in a nearby field and I let her off leash so she could play. A woman entered the other end of the field and let her dog off the leash as well. Our dogs raced towards each other and we, the owners, waved at each other from afar and started wending our way towards each other. It was another old friend. We stood and talked for several minutes. She shared that her relationship had broken up and she'd been through a challenging time while our dogs raced around the field. I returned home energized and feeling "in touch" with my neighbors. I could add that last night I went out late at night and there was the same woman with her dog and we walked for 30 minutes or so catching up on everything that had happened in the last few years. I came in and checked email to find that my family of origin was going to play bridge online this Sunday. It's hard not to connect the dots. I felt lonely. I begged for help. Immediately, people appeared and events happened that invited into the human family. Sometmes God comes to us in human form to give us the comfort or help we need. Word made flesh, I'll come running (dum, dum, dum). And so it is. Roxie

Hope Springs Eternal

I've heard people say: Just when you think things can't get any worse, they DO. Sometimes. Sometimes, though, they get better! A check arrives that you weren't expecting, a stranger strikes up a conversation that changes the way you see things, your errant teen shows up with a dandelion the way he used to do when he was six.

Could it be that it's not entirely random? Could it be in the hope or lack thereof that the next event arises. If I'm thinking things can't get any worse, the subtext of that message is that they will get worse. If, instead, I say to myself: "Well, things are really crappy right now. I'd better ask the Big Dude or his equivalent to step in" The subtext of that message is that a miracle could happen.

So, why not go for the gusto and get up every morning saying: A miracle could happen today! Why don't we all try this as an experiment and let each other know what happens? Post your results as comments.

Here's Roxie's prediction: Miracles WILL happen. Miracles are always happening but you have to notice them, engage with them. If Jesus said to that guy who couldn't walk, "Hey, you, get up and walk." The guy could be thinking: "Well, that's not going to happen and so, he doesn't try." Or, maybe he's so engrossed in his own victim drama that he doesn't even hear the invitation. When you start the day believing a miracle COULD happen, you're looking for miracles. You're acknowledging that your life is bigger than your little story.

Me? I'm sitting here with a little vase waiting for that dandelion! Roxie

Will and Dry Soil in the Spring Wind

Sometime the inner voice, the Higher Self, the Universal Wisdom seems silent. The spiritual soil is dry or frozen. Nothing's coming up. I think of the line, "To everything there is a season." Right now, I'm in a season of spiritual aridity and darkness.

I re-read my last few postings and I honor myself for TRYING, trying to make wisdom or find meaning. Alas, that doesn't work. The only thing that works is finding stillness and waiting. I think about blog followers and how the statistics show that if you don't post frequently, you will lose them. I worry. Don't go. Hang in there with me, please.

This morning, I was meditating in my wicker rocker staring out at the unusually early spring that has come to the northeast. The grass is greening up and the lilacs are almost ready to bloom. A strong wind is bending the birch tree towards the ground. I am riveted by the scene. It changes every second as the wind gusts and swirls or calms briefly. I realized that I am drawn to change, to drama, to movement. These things seem to inspire me or, at least, make me FEEL in this dry spell.

As I closed my eyes and released the view from my mind, focusing on the breath, the words of an old hymn came to mind, "Be still and know that I am God." Be still. How much I want to create and shape meaning, how little I want to stop and let meaning come to me.

Am I afraid I will be bored with silence? Am I afraid that if I clear my mind of its thoughts as interesting as they are, I will find an unbearable emptiness? This seems to be the spiritual journey, the elixir, the requirement of enlightenment. To surrender the will. To surrender that part that creates and shapes. I'm so attached to MY meanings, my visions and metaphors, my little life, that it seems impossible to surrender all that to a higher process.

What if there's nothing? As a friend said last night, "Each day, I begin by asking a higher power to take my will." I was so moved by that, and then he added with a grin, "I spend the rest of the day trying to get it back!" So many of us imagine, despite the chaos of the realities we've created, that our wills are the only thing keeping us safe and worthy. It's terrifying to hand over what seems like our last weapon or even our last grace. What will become of us?

What "unbearable lightness of being" may arrive? There's such a paradox in the spiritual journey. The more we surrender, the more we attain. The more we lay down our defenses, the more we are protected. The more we empty our minds, the more we are filled. Or, so the great spiritual traditions say.

Roxie

Self-Love Revisited

Did you ever notice how easy it is to love every single cell of a two-year-old? Even with arms folded and a stubborn "no" pouring from a frowning face, that little person evokes a smile. Could it be that way with self-love as well? Since it seems that love of self is foundational for loving others and even the gods, we've got to keep at it and figure it out.

I've tried loving myself in one big gulp and that seems too theoretical. It hit me, loving a two-year-old, that it's every single PART of such a little one evoking love in me. What if I tried loving every single part of me?

Here's what it might be like to love ourselves, part-by-part.

I do love my toes and feet. They haven't aged and still look and smell prime, hot with their pink pedicure. It gets harder as I go upward. My ankles are a bit thicker than they used to be. They still hold me up, swivel, and let me walk though. LOVE them! My calves and knees have lost their incredibly great proportions--I had great legs. They, too, are still working and when I shave them and tan them up a bit, they'll do. LOVE them.

A great lesson came from the recent recovery of my hamstrings which froze up after a fall. Suddenly, I couldn't put weight on my leg. After months of physical therapy, I can step out, walk, pivot, climb stairs, balance, and land on my legs. I learned the importance of the invisible hamstring component. No trouble loving that part of me!

Then, we've got all those smelly orifices (sorry, readers, TMI?) that allow us to eat, drink, excrete, and make love. Basically, they help us be connected to the earth and its products, to other humans as well. LOVE them.

The flabby abs that house the intestines and lots of other fairly gross organs have a lot of incisions in them. Childbirth and appendicitis have taken their toll. Housing those organs is important work, more important than looking great in a bikini. Love them too.

The breasts are sagging, admittedly, but they still rock and can pass when encased in a good bra. They've served me well and are one of the few pain-free areas of my particular body. Have always loved them.

The arms and shoulders have born too many burdens and still carry too much worry and stress. I feel compassion for them, torn rotator and all. I have to tell you that the hands and fingers can still play a mean guitar. LOVE them, baby.

The back and spine hold us up. Though no longer as fluid and loose as the squirmy two year old's, they still bend and straighten, lifting our weight and our spirits. Nestled in front of them is the heart. Having survived a heart-attack, I have no trouble loving my heart. It's still beating and it seems, at least metaphorically, to be the seat of all this love. LOVE it.

The neck and throat are still long and elegant. They speak my truth and hold my face and head erect. Yes, of course, love them. My face is beautiful. It's virtually unlined and has always been transparent and expressive. The eyes are big and blue, wide-set. There's kindness in the face and the rapid flash of intelligence in the eyes. There's LIFE in the face. MY LIFE. Maybe, all life. I am in love with my face (and faces).

My hair is a gift. It remains thick, with body and shape. Oh, no doubt, it's white under the expensively streaked blonde that I've kept it for the last twenty years. I like my cosmetics, and I LOVE my hair.

Running quickly through this list, I think of the chakras. In each part of my trunk and head are metaphysical realities housing various spiritual challenges and graces. We are, after all, spiritual beings in this physical frame. Ultimately, as Yeats says, we are "sailing to Byzantium" where the spirit thrives in the bodies of the elders.

Which brings me, finally, to the mind and emotions. Our mind is a great asset at its best, allowing us to comprehend the physical world and reach for what's beyond. It also is a trickster, contributing to our confusion and doubt as we try to make meaning of all this. Our emotions generally follow what the mind is telling us altough sometimes they seem to take great leaps and go beyond the mind's capacities. They are what we see in each other's face and eyes and bodies. The sorrow and hurt, joy and passion, anger and fear sweep through our mortal frame telling it like it is to others, pushing them away and inviting them in.

Hot damn! I really do love myself. Roxie