Mayhem and the Big Dude

I tend to think feelings are truth!  I've learned to check myself and notice they are a passing show and often have no relationship to facts or truth.  For example, someone tagged me on Facebook and made what seemed like a judgmental comment.  I felt outrage!  I wanted to blast this person back, skewer her with sarcasm.  What's up with that?  Where are feelings in the bigger picture of spirituality?

Another time, my brother noticed that I was bashing the Michigan State football team (being a Michigan fan) and just below that I had posted a Buddhist statement about accepting all comers, something like that.  My "fan" feelings seemed to contradict my Buddhist beliefs.  Why IS that?  Why were we even given feelings?  What is their spiritual purpose?

Checking out the cartoon I posted just below, I wonder if the Universe has a wicked sense of humor.  Can't you just hear some minor god begging the Big Dude as follows?  "Oh, c'mon.  Let me stir things up a bit.  These humans think they're so important and smart; let me give them, I don't know, some kind of inner gadget that messes up their thinking and makes them do ridiculous things.  What d'ya say, Big Dude?"  Obviously, the Big Dude said yes and here we are stuck with the ebb and flow, face it, sometimes the MAYHEM of feelings.

As a result of feelings, I tend to think I'm in a state of grace when I feel serene and connected.  Most of my friends see it that way too.  What if feeling serenity has nothing to do with my overall spiritual health?  I'm pondering this because 10 minutes later I can be livid at my dog because it ate my ham sandwich.  Serenity and anger are both feelings, right?  Why is one considered "better" in the spiritual world?  I think about the Course in Miracles staple that you can't feel love and fear at the same time and, of course, its belief that love is the greater state of being.  Is that true?  Or, are feelings just the passing show and pretty much unrelated to spirituality?

When I look around me at the Universe, I see diversity which runs on a spectrum from decay to birth.  Even black holes are now shown to spew creative elements back into the universe whereas they were previously seen as only sucking energy our of the universe.  Everything seems to be on a cycle of decay, death, rebirth.  So, one is not greater than the other, just another face of the whole.  I wonder if feelings are like that.  They, too, seem to cycle around from serenity/joy to fear/anger and everywhere in between.  Our human need to judge and compare makes us decide that one set is better than the other

Somehow, we get from there to equating positive emotions with spirituality and "negative" emotions with chaos that ought to be gotten rid of.  Yet, the Universe seems to encompass all with equanimity.  Possibly emotions of all kinds are gateways or lessons to spirituality and are not to be confused with spirituality itself.  Serenity feels wonderful but it isn't the God.  Fear feels terrible but it isn't some demon to be exorcised.  Maybe I could see my ever-changing feelings as elixirs on the spiritual journey.  A flask of serenity now and then can renew my commitment to the spiritual journey.  Truth be told, a bit of terror in the old wineskin can renew it in a different way.

This needs more thought.  Any ideas, my readers?  Roxie

It's a Re-Mix, Baby!

Seriously, need I say more?

Particles, Waves, Tide, The Ocean, Baby!

I've always had a mad jealous streak quite at odds with my theories of spirituality.  I felt like I had been dealt a raw hand by the Big Dude or whatever.  This feeling that I had been cheated allowed me to covet what others had and also to cut corners myself.  I figured since no one seemed to have my back, as the saying goes, I had to do whatever it took for me to survive.

Fast forward many years.  Last week, I faced my jealousy head on.  I was visiting my best friend for several days.  She has a perfect home, the perfect modern family, a successful marriage, and abundance in every aspect of her life.  Grandchildren!  Grown children who are happy and successful and who come to her for cozy conversation.  A job she loves.  No major health issues even though we're about the same age.  Need I go on?

So, there I was ensconced in that picture-perfect home for a few days.  I felt loved, protected, and richly engaged by her spirituality and intelligence.  It came time for me to leave and I was sitting in her picture-perfect family room surrounded by at least a hundred pictures ranging from grandchildren to grandparents.  I felt like an outsider and a big, fat LOSER.  As I sat there quietly, things began to rearrange themselves in my awareness.  Suddenly I saw her as another soul in the universe.  I remembered her origins. I saw her striving to go beyond her family.  I saw the little girl who had to grow up fast and didn't get a chance to play.

I stopped comparing my life to her life and realized I was obsessed with the trappings of life.  The bottom line is the same for both of us--to wake up to the God or whatever that is manifest in our very own selves.  That's it.  That's all.  When I am jealous and lonely, I am like a drop of water in the ocean.  I'm only thinking about that drop.  Once I realize I am part of the ocean, I'm amazed.  My friend is a drop of water and so am I.  It takes many drops of water to build an ocean.  All of us moving in divine harmony make up the tide and waves.  Wow! Roxie

God by Any Other Name

I started this blog as a spiritual quest.  I wanted to explore or figure out or invent or find a god that I could relate to.  Over time, I've drifted far afield, as I suspect we questing souls tend to do.  I read something yesterday that said:  "Reflect on the fact that we may not understand God."  Duh.  You'd think I would have known that, right?  I didn't.  I have assumed all along that my intellect could apprehend or know god.

We may not understand God.  This is stated as a FACT.  It became obvious immediately: I don't understand God; I cannot understand God.  It's way beyond my comprehension.  You'd think that might be depressing; actually, it's a relief.  I can quit trying to figure god out and just let go and assume that it's beyond me (intellectually).  Going one step further, the ego rejects the very notion that there is something out there that it can't control or manage.  So, inside of us, both the intellect and the ego are struggling to hang on to the idea that they are in charge.  They're not. Huh!

At the same time, I do believe that (if there is a God, says my egolect) that we CAN know God although not in those ways of knowing.  How then?  In time-honored fashion, we must still the ego, quiet the intellect, and seek God in silence, in rhythm, in art, in nature, in our bodies when we are aware of them.  God lives in everything (if there is a God, says my egolect).  Why do we work SO HARD to not believe it?

Come to think of it, why bother deciding at all.  Belief and unbelief are a continuum and we're on it somewhere whether we want to be or not.  Let it go.  Be silent.  Turn off the TV, silence the smart phone and put it away, turn off the computer.  Walk in rhythm with the heart beat and the movement of waves on the shore.  Breathe in the same rhythms.  God is beyond intellectual knowing.  Fact.  God is love and rhythmic motion in the universe.  Join when you can.  Roxie

Into the Woods

I've been away for awhile.  I went "into the woods" of soul work.  It was dark there, moldy, and full of strange sounding creatures.  When I'm stumbling through the woods, too often I'm looking at my feet--watching for roots and brambles, rocks and bogs.  I'm worried where to put my feet.

If I stop to look up, what I see is a "green cathedral."  The enormous trees arch upward to form a ceiling; the densely packed forest shuts out less necessary parts of the world.  I am uplifted by the power of silence and the lift of the enormous branches.  I hear squirrels jabbering away, birds coming to roost, the wind so far above as to be almost beyond reach.

I grew up on the edge of such a woods.  I spent as much time as possible there.  As a pre-schooler, I got up in the morning, snuck out the back door, and whistled for my neighbor friend.  Her return whistle was a sign that we should meet up in our special place.  I'd head to the woods and she'd be there.  We'd spend hours riding our imaginary horses, slaying imaginary foes, sweeping our imaginary capes in front of imaginary hordes.  Later, as a teen, I snuck out with a book and climbed a favorite tree to read for hours.

Today, I live at the edge of a different forest.  The ancient trees still speak to me in the wind high above.  Out my window, some trees are a brilliant orange while others remain green or have chosen to be a bright yellow this year.  It's a feast.

Alas, in the last month or so, I've not been partaking of the feast.  I've been afraid of falling, consumed with watching my feet and where they're stepping.  This is the sacred shit of soul work.  Putting one careful foot in front of the other not noticing the call of the Universe in the perfect architecture of the trees, the astonishing palette of colors, the orchestration of sound and silence.  Not noticing my body, at home in this divine arena.  Obsessed with safety and self-protection.

Where is the little girl who jumped out of bed to meet her soul-mate and roam the woods fearless and unfettered?  She's here.  She lives in this sixtysomething body with arthritis limitations, balance issues, and worries.  She's the reason we went into the woods.  She's the one who will find a way out of it if she must.  She's also the one who makes us look up at the Spirit moving in the high branches.  She's the one who loves the woods wanting to stay and play until goblins or glory snatch us away. Roxie

Child of the Universe

What the heck does is mean to be spiritual?  Does it mean to have some kind of faith in another realm?  Does it mean to be sensitive to or aware of forces that seem to be irrational?  Maybe it simply means to exist.  I am; therefore, I am also in spirit.  What the heck am I talking about?

I don't know.  My life seems to be a constant wavering between something like faith and something like judgement. The judging part of us, ego, intellect, can't really comprehend the irrational.  Intellect thinks it would be nice if there WERE a good, loving god or a good, loving flow of life. That's as far as it can really go.  The capacity to make a judgement based on information and reason stops at the end of physical reality.  Immense intellects like Einstein's have come close to understanding and explaining the magnitude and simplicity of creation.  They liken this to understanding the mind of God.  I find that comforting. My intellect is comforted that there is some kind of bridge in great minds from this reality to other ones.

On the other hand, the faith part of us is willing to believe without the intellect's input.  It leaps across the divide between physical reality and spiritual reality.  The closest I can come to that is occasionally letting grace seep into my awareness so that suddenly I am residing in an alternate reality.  It's kind of like time slows way down and I see and hear with an acuity that is not part of my normal life.  I look into my dog's eyes and I see a soul.  I step out the door and I hear the wind in tall trees or see mist rising off a river.  I am present.  I am IN life.  The question of faith or judgement ceases to exist.  There is only this moment when my body seems to merge with the universe.

Some part of me knows that's where it is.  That's enlightenment.  That's grace.  That's salvation.  Whatever.  When I'm consciously part of it all, the ego/mind/judging part of me disappears. It's irrelevant.  I know with certainty, in those moments, that I'm a child of the universe.  I'm home.  Roxie

Treyvon

Ouch.  What's a spiritual response to this seeming injustice?  I say injustice because in the end, an armed man admits to having shot an unarmed teen-ager.  I say injustice because a person with money and resources brought a better defense than the state could bring an offense.  It brings me to the Biblical question:  "Who is my neighbor?"  To me, that's the essence of the spiritual dilemma.

Treyvon is  my neighbor and (although I wouldn't want him living down the street from me!) George is my neighbor too.  A black teen-ager on the streets of a gated, wealthy community should not be at risk just because of his existence.  A weird dude with a gun who has designated himself the "neighborhood watch" guy should have retreated from stalking the teen when the police requested that he stand down. Again, I ask myself a Biblical question:  Who is the lost sheep here?

I don't know the answer.  Both Treyvon and George are children of the universe.  In the end, I know I'm powerless over this act and this outcome.  That doesn't mean that I can't feel that something went terribly wrong not just in that neighborhood but also in the courtroom.  So, I'm just giving a shout-out for Treyvon.  R.I.P.  Roxie