Kiss My Grits

When I was young, I thought success and fame would lead to fulfillment. I was so good at the getting game that I lived my dreams and achieved my life goals by the time I was 25. Many people hit bottom and are forced to find a better way, but I hit top and found the world of power, a grand home, country club membership, and travel were not the solutions they promised to be. It was a time of great crisis. I was empty and miserable. Finally, I surrendered. I couldn’t figure out how to make my life meaningful and I couldn’t do anything to make things right. I just gave up, and some part of my ego flat-lined long enough for me to have an awakening. I lived in some kind of heaven on earth for months.

In my naiveté, I thought my life would never be the same and that heretofore every life experience would be underpinned by that peace that passes understanding. Little did I realize that experience was to give me insight into a mystical state of consciousness that would see me through some of the toughest times of my life.

I eventually got divorced; maybe that was the problem--an unhappy marriage. I was shocked by the depth of my despair after my divorce; my husband had been such a big part of my life. I remarried on the rebound with tears that were still wet on my face. My small nest egg was swiftly depleted by a less than honorable second husband. I found that not having enough money to meet life’s demands was even more frightening than the emptiness I experienced when I had plenty of money.

The man I married was a compulsive liar. He lied about little things and I could never figure out whether I was standing on the ground or in quicksand. I couldn’t believe he would lie to me. He was such a master at weaving fact and fantasy, that I couldn’t tell the difference. I began to doubt reality, because I was desperate to believe his lies. I made myself wrong in order to make him right. I almost went crazy. I ran the numbers and figured that if I really went crazy, it would be so expensive, I might never get out of the hole. Finally, in a fit of sanity and self-preservation, I divorced him.

Then came many years of life experience, relationships, travel, a thirst for spiritual truth, and a journey that continues. I’ve done more in my life and with my life than I ever expected to do. I look back and can’t believe the experiences I’ve had and that I have touched the face of love again and again. Life has become a friend that holds my hand and comforts me.

Waking up was not a guarantee of a perfect life; it was the door that opened the understanding not to take life so personally. Tragic events come and go, wonder and happiness come and go, but all these events were external to me because who and what I am cannot be defined by events. Events are the toys on the playground of life, but they are not life itself. This insight was not apparent at the time. I had to grow into it. And grow I did.

This was my life, and what I’m sharing is not a prescription for anyone’s life. I just want to mention that life was not what I planned it to be, it was not what I expected it to be, but through some twist of fate, it was and is better than my expectations. Events in life are not life itself, and the more I’ve come to understand that, the easier it’s been to appreciate the magnitude and fortune of my life. There’s an old saying, “Enlightenment is just a recognition, not a change at all.” And as I’ve recognized what is really present, I find myself at the starting place of my journey. The difficult and joyful events in life were stepping stones that took me back home. They were the grit in my "grail" and the thread in my life’s tapestry. The grit is still here, but I don’t have to sweep it under the carpet anymore. I can add it to my garden and it will soon support a flower or tree. I guess you could say I’ve learned to “kiss my grits,”and, as Robert Frost would say, and that has made all the difference.
Anne

The Fast Food of Love

Victoria’s eyes rested on his rugged jaw as if her life depended on it. He was her answer to every fantasy, but now he was dead. He was able to take a temporary physical form, but she knew the ethereal body wouldn’t last. He was minutes from disappearing forever. Her heart was already mourning the loss. Life would not smile again and the love of her life would fade from her memory, unless she could find a way to bring him permanently back to life.

She knew the Creminians had secret ways. Her mother told stories of the dead coming to life. It was a long time ago, but the ancient practices held the key to immortality and reanimation of the deceased.  “Hold on my love,” she shouts across the divide. “I will spend my life finding The Way.”

This could be an excerpt from a modern love story. It’s a story of unrequited love. Victoria’s life and well-being depend on her lover’s existence. Unfortunately this is the illusion of the western way. We worship the idea that the love of a special person will bring delight to our world, fill our hearts with love, and give meaning and purpose to our lives.

Looking for a partner to fulfill our lives is like eating fast food. Fast food will fill you up for a while, even bring a smile, but if all one eats is fast food, then their health will eventually suffer. The body needs natural whole foods on a regular basis to flourish.

We need more than the love of a partner to feed the soul. Romantic love is not a soul-lution. It is not a bad thing; it is just a fleeting thing. It is a groovy kind of love, as the song says, but romantic love is the fast food of love. Being in the presence of one who deeply loves himself or herself and one who knows their true identity, brings us much closer to love than when we are with one who expresses their undying affection for us.

Doesn’t it feel good to be around someone who loves all of life, including themselves and others? They have nothing to prove and don’t need to get anything from anyone. They don’t live life with a hidden agenda. People flock to gurus because of the nourishing love that flows from such self-realized saints, but ultimately the saint points the disciple in another direction. The guru points them back to themselves and illuminates the disciple so s/he can see the light within.

The New Year is a time of reflection. What is my life about? Why am I here? How should I spend my time and energy? Ultimately the question that puts an end to all questioning is, “Who am I?” These are the questions that allow us to bring accountability to our lives and the questions that open the door to a real soul- lution. Forget the worn out questions like: “Why am I not rich, successful, loved, or appreciated?” These are dead end questions.

If the questions above leave you flat, then learn the ways of the mind. Learn how to listen to that which is deep within. Allow the mind to spend its time learning to listen, rather than learning how to fix things. I’m not speaking about leaving things broken. Of course we have to fix a flat tire. I’m speaking of touching the ground of being as a way of living, rather than reaching to the stars for more fast food. Forget about love stories, fantasies, and longing. They are bits of desire that lead to suffering and we don’t have to be about suffering. Let’s be about life, satisfaction, love, and well-being. It’s our destiny to show up in our lives and to awaken to our true selves. May this year reflect the peace and joy in life and may you always find that life can be EZier and EZier.

Body Talk

I used to be prejudiced toward older people. Maybe I still am. I didn’t realize the prejudice existed. I thought I was cool and that I calculated people's value equally.

As I aged, the bias turned itself against me. I loved my flaming curly red hair, but at age 52, I felt the call of wild: “Go natural.” I cut my hair into a boy-like cut and waited for the salt and pepper. It wasn’t there. My daily mirror checks exposed a crop of white hair. I called myself Que-tip. I was one white-topped woman. One day a child pointed at me and asked his mom, “What is that grand mama doing?” I hold nothing against being a grand mom—really, I love it—but something snapped. That day I stepped out of my youth and became an older adult. I entered the youth of my old age.

I remember climbing the steps of the pyramids outside of Mexico City. I was greeted by an elder who said, “Welcome to the end of your youth.” I was 40 and wasn’t ready to give it up! I thought, “What does he know?” Twelve years later, I gave in. I was maturing.

I began to notice subtle changes in the way people looked at me. Maybe it was a projection, but people looked through me or past me as they hurried through their lives. As a younger woman, one who was often center stage, I was used to being noticed, but now, I receded to the sidelines of life.

My sister had a heart attack and I raced to LA to assist her recovery. When she returned home, she carried an assisted living package – a walker.  All of the sudden walkers were cool. I checked out the older passersby as I strolled through the streets of LA. I stopped and talked with people about their walkers. Behind these walkers were interesting people, not old folks. Again, my prejudices made themselves known. I previously looked down on people using canes and walkers, but now my contemporaries were using walking aids, wheel chairs, and scooters. As I awakened from a silent fog, I wondered, “How many filters and preconceived notions lurk in the dark corners of my mind? What thoughts do I look through that determine how I view others?” There’s not an answer; it was a moment of recognition: the mind has its secrets.

I’ve settled into my older years and continue to uncover and heal my prejudices. People don’t look at me the way they used to, but I’ve discovered that the transition from younger to older is not only about who I think I am; it’s about letting go of an image that I believed gave me some kind of advantage in life. No longer do I hold the success images of youth. I have less money; my wrinkled face watches the jiggles as I walk. Things hang off my body that previously stood at attention, but there’s a softness replacing the vigor of youth. There’s a knowing that I never was those things. I was never a body. I was never young or old. I was never my thoughts or beliefs. They were just an operating system. I was more, always more, and knowing that certainly makes my life EZier and EZier.

Anne

The Empathy Project

Undergraduate school is a blur, but a few things stand out. I took classes in recreation therapy and sometimes we took on the limits of the populations we would be serving, in order to experience a partial view of their lives and limitations.

We had to spend one class period breathing through a straw. This gave us some insight into people who suffer from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). It was tough, but it was an effective way to create empathy.

The most impactful experiment occurred when I spent a day on campus in a wheel chair. People ignored me, stared with pity, and I was faced the physical difficulties of living in a world built for those who could walk and run. That was more than 45 years ago, yet I vividly remember how marginalized I felt and the responses of the people who looked down on me or looked away as they passed by. I have never since looked at people who are wheel chair bound the same way. Now they are equals, and before, I was unaware of my prejudice. I felt sorry for people in wheel chairs; fortunately, I moved from sympathy to empathy.

In later life I experienced a simulated poverty experience – what is was like to live on minimum wage and have a dependent family. Another experience created living in the Middle East in a war zone. I experienced disease, lack of clean water, a punitive educational system, and the angst of not knowing where the next bomb would come from. I had to perform a surgery simulation with improper tools and spend time in a dark cave like area. I would hear a loud explosion, then the area shook as if a bomb was landing a few feet from where I was hiding.

We are isolated in our culture. We hang out with those of similar resources. We ride around in cars by ourselves when carpooling might give us a medium for developing or deepening friendships. We chose convenience and want to be sure we can leave when we want to and not have to wait on another. Our busy lives often dictate who we relate with and how we relate to others. But in that busy-ness, we lose a part of our hearts. We lose touch with humanity as we separate ourselves from the greater whole.

I’ve never ridden the transit system in Houston or the downtown train. I have no idea what it is like to live on the bottom or to have to rely on others or public transportation to get around. I am teachable and plan to ride the bus from The Woodlands to downtown Houston and ride the train around the city, just to view life from another perspective.

I challenge you to limit yourself in some way. The following suggestions are ones you might try. These experiments may give you an understanding of how others live and create a new dimension of compassion and empathy. You may want to get friends or family to join in your personal Empathy Project.

·       Bathe with a small pail of cold water each day for a week. You have to use this water to wash your hair and meet all your bathing needs. While this seems like a drastic experiment to some, there are many people who don’t have clean water to bathe in. While in India, at the foothills of the Himalayas, I had one small pail of water to bathe with. The temperature was in the 30’s F. during the day and my room was not heated. I didn’t bathe daily, but that experience not only gave me an understanding of what others endured, it exposed a sense of entitlement I had about water and showed how much of our precious resource I wasted. I actually felt clean after bathing with a limited amount of water. Try this. I think you will be shocked at what you might learn.

·       Talk to a homeless person. Ask them about their lives. Once I spent about an hour on a public street talking to a homeless man. I asked him how he ended up on the street. He had a long series of mishaps that led to his homelessness. He told me about his injured feet. I asked to see them. He took off his shoes and showed me his frost bitten and bleeding feet. I held them in my hands and sent them all the love and energy I could muster. I listened and I think in some way he was served because I saw him, really saw him. If you chose to do this, of course, be safe. I was on a very public street with others walking past. It is always imperative when we move outside our comfort zones, that we remember our personal safety.

·       Do not spend any money for a week except to buy food, pay bills, or to cover your transportation costs. This self-imposed money restriction plan provides insight into the limits under which 45 million Americans live. There is little hope in their future and they have no money to buy clothes, eat out, or for recreation. This experiment can also reveal toxic spending patterns.

·       Wear the same outfit all day for two days. You don’t change when you get home from work. You don’t wear special exercise clothes. Many people don’t have the luxury of choosing what to wear. See what it is like to live without a choice in your wardrobe.

·       Breathe through a straw for 10 minutes. How does it feel to have impaired breathing? This gives us empathy for those who have COPD and asthma.

Make up your personal experiments of voluntary suffering. In EZosophy we work to eliminate ego driven suffering, but when we choose to walk in the shoes of others, we expand our limited perspective. For more than I year I refrained from eating for ½ day a week. It was a fast for peace. While it may not have been the whole-hearted demonstration of Gandhi, it made the idea of peace real in a personal way.

Empathy is not sympathy. Sympathy creates burden, but empathy opens the doors from which love flows. Challenging ourselves to move out of our comfort and convenience zones moves us into a place where we invite more than a few family members, colleagues, and friends into our hearts. As loves stirs and light shines into the hidden places and spaces in our lives and hearts, we can be sure that life will be EZier and EZier.

The Supreme Okay

I stood in my closet and surveyed my clothing options. As always, at this time of the year, I wear shorts. The sweltering weather squeezes the life out of everything, so I dress in the coolest clothes possible. My two books were complete and my trip to Charleston was delayed due to the hurricane. The day leisurely stretched before me and even though I had several maintenance tasks planned, I wanted the exuberance of living to tap me on the shoulder and lead me into a new adventure. I was ready for the promised land of life. As I rummaged through a neatly stacked assortment of shorts, I uttered a prayer. I believe there's always a preferred path of doing, and I ask frequently for guidance to that path. I asked “What would you have me do?” Almost immediately I realized I was asking for some important task to fill each moment and wanted that task to bestow meaning and purpose on the day. Cleaning my bedroom would only take a few minutes. I would complete that task and then follow the direction of spirit. After making the bed, I could do the real work.

Immediately, my heart overflowed with joy. I felt unending peace. I was filled with a voiceless burst of knowing that it didn't matter what I did. All I needed to do in any endeavor was to be present and aware. There was no secret plan of doing; there were no special tasks that would make life right. Meaning and purpose exist regardless of the task, and I take meaning and purpose to the task. It’s not the other way around; the task itself creates no meaning. What relief; I wasn't missing some necessary secret formula for happiness that could only be found through some mysterious magical mission. All I ever had to do was bring love and presence into every action, thought, and deed.

I cleaned up the bedroom, no longer thinking of the activity as meaningless. I was filled with wonder as the sunlight danced on the floor, and I marveled at the ingenuity and craftsmanship of my dresser. The need to be important and do important things vanished and took with it the relentless burden of effort. I stood in the presence of completeness, wholeness. I was in and of spirit. Invisible Presence stood with me. All dimensions of life supported a Reality of which I was an integral part. Time dissolved as I embodied life and rested in Life’s deep pleasure. I was home again.

I know that Radical Presence brings meaning and fulfillment to each moment, but that knowing becomes an intellectual knowing rather than an actual realization. It seems like a cat-and-mouse game of forgetting and remembering. How could I forget that each instant is imbued with optimum Okayness? But I do forget, more times than I can remember.
In 1997 I had an awakening to the Supreme Okayness that lasted several years. It was such an all-encompassing knowing that I closed my spiritual center, Connection, and embarked on a journey to discover how to live when I wasn't chasing enlightenment or trying to improve myself. I was already who and what I wanted to be and I didn’t have to study in order to fix life nor did I have to discover myself. I was free to enjoy life. As the years passed, the light of knowing dimmed and brightened and life became a series of waking up, going to sleep, and reawakening.

While being asleep can have its moments—after all, the ego’s circus is alluring and can be quite entertaining—nothing can compare to the sheer joy of awakening to Presence. Maybe at some Divine level we purposely arrange to go to sleep so we can experience the joy of re-emergence into the sacred. Are we like kids who thrill to the ride of a Ferris wheel or a roller coaster? After all, waking up is the consummate spiritual ride and we love it.
All this conjecture is to say, “Make it easy on yourself.” The next time you fall off the spiritual wagon, never fear: at some point you will unexpectedly fall back into the truth of your being. The inner alarm is set to go off intermittently and you won’t be left to your slumber too long. Once you venture onto the path of your Being, you will never be alone again. You will be guarded and guided as you explore the vast unknown. We all need help. We are Infinite Beings squeezed into a finite living space – the body. It’s a tricky situation, but we are safe. The Supreme Okayness reigns in every situation. Get used to it. You can’t escape it. Your only assignment is to count on it, and, when you do, you will always find that life is EZier and EZier.