Spirited Musings from Geoff Laughton

"What If?": A Wake-Up Call To Presence

Within the past couple of days, a young 22-23 year old man in the part of Colorado where I hang out was walking along a local overpass.  This overpass stands above one of the busiest traffic corridors in the area. For some reasons that we'll never really know, this young man - deeply loved by his family and his friends - made a decision...a decision that has now begun a ripple impact across the lives of so many other people.

This young man decided to follow through with a choice he must have made before he even started making his way to the overpass.  He went to the railing of the overpass, and he hiked one leg, then the other, over that railing and made the last decision of his life when he jumped.  He was critically injured upon impact, before the unwitting and innocent driver of an SUV hit him, finishing the task that the young man had set out to accomplish when he jumped.

I did not know this young man.  Apparently, to some degree, neither did the people close to him.  Perhaps they all thought they knew their friend, brother, or son.  Yet, they apparently had no idea of who this young man really was, at the time...the level of confusion he was undergoing...the level of pain and hopelessness he was suffering.  Or, maybe they did, but they had no idea of how to help him.  This young man was a friend of my son's, and my son - like many who knew this person, and like anyone impacted by a suicide - is left asking so many questions amongst the currents of sadness, rage, heartache, and confusion that come with a death like this.

Ultimately, the question of "Why?" permeates the spheres of influence that the suicide leaves behind.  If the suicide turns out to not be surprising, the loved ones left to heal from the debris are wondering why they couldn't have made the difference they wished they could have.  Some wonder why they couldn't have seen the signs in enough time and with enough clarity to have stopped it.  In cases like this, where I believe (I'm not sure) that people would not have expected this young man to end his life like this, the Big Why's usually turn out to not only be "Why did he do it," but "Why didn't he ask for help?"  We're left to wonder why, when someone's in THAT much pain, THAT lost within themselves, why don't they ask for help?

There are so many reasons why someone won't.  I'm not an expert on suicide, but I've been around it enough now in my five decades on the planet.  I have had a few times when I'd contemplated it.  I've had family members who have as well, and I watched my mother commit suicide (it just took her many years to finally achieve the desired effect).  So, between my own personal and professional experiences, I have a pretty acute sense of the quiet desperation and despair that most of us deal with - on one level or another - and the perverse paradox of how seductive it gets to suffer in silence and isolation.  

One of the most insidious things about depression is that it so convincingly assures you that no one can help, no one or no thing will be able to make any difference...it's best to just try to figure it out yourself...or just resign yourself to it never being able to get better, followed by numbing it with either substances or overwork, or maybe even suicide.  While this is not unique to just men (I've lost women I loved to suicide), men suffer a particular shame - often a hidden shame, even to them - about asking for help.  Hell, we often have a hard time even telling the whole truth about how we're REALLY feeling. period.  Somehow, the fear of being perceived as weak or being a wuss trumps the substantial self-love and self-respect that we ideally would have that would cause us to get supported when we just don't have the remotest idea of what the hell to do with what we're feeling.

Added to that, a lot of us are dealing with so many changes and stresses, unparalleled in our lifetimes, I believe we've subtly (or not so subtly) become so self-absorbed that we are drastically losing our level of presence, to ourselves and others. We're not awake enough.  It's getting to the point where this individual and collective self-absorption, along with our intense levels of fear - the fears up front and the ones that we keep trying to deny - renders us unable to even look at our brothers or sisters around us from a true sensitive & empathetic enough place to be able to recognize when our loved one is bullshitting themselves so masterfully that we've gotten drawn in to the deceit right along with them.  In my judgment, men are experts at this.  We're expert at both the isolation and self-deceit, but we're also expert at not being present at all the levels we need to be...again, to both ourselves and those around us.

I don't for a minute hold this young man's friends or family as responsible for his heartbreakingly senseless death. My own heart is deeply saddened for all that they, and the driver that actually hit this young man after he'd landed on the freeway, are going through.  My heart is especially wrenched by my sadness over how much pain this man was in and that he wasn't able to sufficiently ask for help, if at all.  Yet, the only way to try to make any real sense of what happened seems, to me, to rest in the need to create some kind of post-impact meaning that could maybe prevent someone else from ending their quiet despair this way.  This seems particularly important as we head into the holiday time, which is one of the highest-risk timeframes in which people commit suicide.

I urge us all to snap out of our fear and self-referential daze that I, and so many others, so easily et seduced and mystified by.  I urge you to really get out of your heads when you're with people you love, and feel INTO them.  How do they feel to you?  Does their energy match what they're saying when they tell you they're "fine?"  If not, take the risk of going deeper with them...don't let them off the hook.  If you're a man suffering like this, or watching another man suffering, get to a men's group as soon as possible.  Trust your instincts and take the chance of annoying them with your deeper probing (to me, the consequences of NOT doing that justify the flak you may take for doing it).  Go online and read the top signs of high-risk for suicide, and watch.  If you're suffering from them, ask for help.  None of us deserve to suffer the costs of not asking for help, nor do we have the right - through our own self-neglect - to then cause the level of suffering in our loved ones that can happen if the worst outcome were to result.

Take this time to reach out and love people.  The gifts, the money, the "stuff" really just doesn't matter.  Give the gift of your loving perception and connection to everyone in your life.  It just may save a life.

A Different Take On Your Mothers

I imagine that this would be more suitably posted on Mother's Day, but I'm moved to do it now.  This Thanksgiving was the second Thanksgiving that I've had now since my mother's death in June of last year. I found myself missing her, and being surprised at the pangs of sadness that hit my heart when the desire to call her and run some things by her, to be comforted and reassured in a way, were met with the hard reality that there's no more phone calls available.  

In my work, I have assisted many many people in individuating from the mothers of their childhood, to move towards a path of freedom from the beliefs and hurts that many moms unwittingly create, because of their own wounds.  Yet, what of the mothers we have NOW...the mothers who may have grown some, just as we hopefully have?  What of the relationship that could be possible with them NOW, if we were able to tender our own inner children's continuing healing from the childhood and adolescence woundings ourselves (with the help of healers that specialize in that...ahem...when needed)?

Our parents are often a difficult relationship at any age, but in thinking of my Mom last Thursday, I realized that I've gotten old enough, and have helped enough other people with their childhood healing, to realize that it may be a good idea not to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

In that spirit, I want to share a piece of writing from a man named Mark Broder, a New Warrior Brother (see www.mkp.org for more info on that, if you want to know what that means), that I wished I'd read before June of last year, so that I may have been able to experience all the gyrations I have had to go through to forgive the mother of my youth (and my adulthood, for that matter) WITH the joys of grabbing the good stuff that was always there between her and I.  That's the essence of relationship anyway, isn't it?  Being able to work through the crapola, while hanging on and growing the areas of the relationship that are healthy and fulfilling?

Enjoy and please comment...what would you like to share about your Mother's gifts that could help you feel your own heart more?

DATE WITH MOM by Mark Broder 

After 21 years of marriage, I discovered a new way of keeping alive the spark of love. A little while ago I had to go out with another woman. It was really my wife's idea. "I know that you love her," she said one day, taking me by surprise. "But I love YOU," I protested. "I know, but you also love her" 

The other woman that my wife wanted me to visit was my mother, who has been a widow for 19 years, but the demands of my work and my three children had made it possible to visit her only occasionally. That night I called to invite her to go out for dinner and a movie. 

"What's wrong, are you well?" she asked. mother is the type of woman who suspects that a late night call or a surprise invitation is a sign of bad news.

 "I thought that it would be nice to pass some time with you," I responded. "Just the two of us." She thought about it for a moment, and then said, "I would like that very much."

 That Friday after work, as I drove over to pick her up I was a bit nervous. 

When I arrived at her house, I noticed that she, too, seemed to be nervous about our date. She waited in the door with her coat on. She had curled her hair and was wearing the dress that she had worn to celebrate her last wedding anniversary. She smiled from a face that was as radiant as an angel's.

 I told my friends that I was going to go out with my son, and they were impressed," she said, as she got into the car. "They can't wait to hear about our meeting."

 We went to a restaurant that, although not elegant, was very nice and cozy. My mother took my arm as if she were the First Lady. 

After we sat down, I had to read the menu. 

Her eyes could only read large print. Half way through the entrees, I lifted my eyes and saw Mom sitting there staring at me. A nostalgic smile was on her lips.

 "It was I who used to have to read the menu when you were small," she said. "Then it's time that you relax and let me return the favor," I responded.

 During the dinner we had an agreeable conversation-nothing extraordinary-but catching up on recent events of each others life. 

We talked so much that we missed the movie. 

As we arrived at her house later, she said, "I'll go out with you again, but only if you let me invite you." I agreed. 

"How was your dinner date?" asked my wife when I got home. 

"Very nice. Much more so than I could have imagined," I answered. 

A few days later my mother died of a massive heart attack. It happened so suddenly that I didn't have a chance to do anything for her.

 Some time later I received an envelope with a copy of a restaurant receipt from the same place mother and I had dined. An attached note said: "I paid this bill in advance. I was almost sure that I couldn't be there but, nevertheless, I paid for two plates, one for you and the other for your wife. You will never know what that night meant for me. I love you."

 At that moment I understood the importance of saying, in time: "I LOVE YOU" and to give our loved ones the time that they deserve.

 Nothing in life is more important than your family. Give them the time they deserve, because these things cannot be put off till "some other time."

 Somebody said it takes about six weeks to get back to normal after you've had a baby .. somebody doesn't know that once you're a mother, "Normal" is history.

 Somebody said you learn how to be a mother by instinct...somebody never took a three-year-old shopping. 

Somebody said being a mother is boring ... somebody never rode in a car driven by a teenager with a driver's permit. 

Somebody said if you're a "good" mother, your child will "turn out good"...somebody thinks a child comes with directions and a guarantee.

 Somebody said "good" mothers never raise their voices...somebody never came out the back door just in time to see her child hit a golf ball through the neighbor's kitchen window.

 Somebody said you don't need an education to be a mother...somebody never helped a fourth grader with his math. 

Somebody said you can't love the fifth child as much as you love the first...somebody doesn't have five children. 

Somebody said the hardest part of being a mother is labor and delivery...somebody never watched her "baby" get on the bus for the first day of kindergarten ... or on a plane headed for military "boot camp."

 Somebody said a mother can do her job with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back ... somebody never organized seven giggling Brownies to sell cookies.

 Somebody said a mother can stop worrying after her child gets married...somebody doesn't know that marriage adds a new son or daughter-in-law to a mother's heartstrings.

 Somebody said a mother's job is done when her last child leaves home...somebody never had grandchildren. 

Somebody said your mother knows you love her, so you don't need to tell her....somebody isn't a mother. 

Pass this along to all the "mothers" in your life...and to anyone that has a mother

 

What Feels Good - A Practice from Dr. Rick Hanson

One of the key themes that runs through all my work is the importance of community, connection, and sharing our gifts as fully and unabashedly as possible.  For me, this also includes sharing others' gifts as well.  I received a newsletter today from Dr. Rick Hanson, a Northern California-based neuropsychologist doing incredible work with studying (and writing about) the intersections of brain science and contemplative practices.  He has a new book out called "Buddha's Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love and Wisdom" that is very useful reading. He's also started a weekly newsletter I recommend, called "Just One Thing," which offers a weekly practice that you can do to foster more of what Rick writes about in his book.

I wanted to share this week's posting, which Rich has given permission to share freely, in the hopes that it offers you an opportunity to expand your repertoire of practices that - with a small investment of time - may further help you breathe and walk your Spirit more moments of each day.  Enjoy, and feel free to go to Rick's site and learn more about the incredible work he's doing in this very important, cutting edge area of growth.

What Feels Good?

The Practice

Take pleasure. 

Why? As Fred Bryant of Loyola University (Chicago) and others have shown, savoring life's pleasures is a powerful psychological resource. You are not pushing away things that are hard or painful. You are just opening up to the sweet stuff that's already around you - and basking, luxuriating, and delighting in it. This activates the calming and soothing parasympathetic wing of your autonomic nervous system, and quiets the fight-or-flight sympathetic wing and its stress-response hormones. Besides lifting your mood, settling your fears, and brightening your outlook, the practice of taking pleasure offers physical health benefits, too: strengthening your immune system, improving digestion, and balancing hormones.

How?  Relish the pleasures of daily life.  Start with the senses:  ·  What smells good?  The skin of an orange, wood smoke on the air, dinner on the stove, a young child's hair . . .  ·  Tastes delicious?  Strong coffee, delicate tea, French toast - chocolate! - tossed salad, goat cheese . . .  ·  Looks beautiful?  Sunrise, sunset, full moon, a baby sleeping, red leaves in autumn, fresh fallen snow . . .   ·  Sounds wonderful?  Waves on the seashore, wind through pine trees, a dear friend laughing, silence itself . . .  ·  Feels good on your skin?  Newly washed sheets, a good back scratch, warm water, fresh air on a muggy day . . .  Next, include the mind: What do you like to think about, to remember, to plan? Bring to mind a favorite setting - a mountain meadow, a tropical beach, a cozy living room chair - and reimagine yourself there. Last, savor these pleasures. Sink into them, take your time with them, let them fill your body and mind. Marinate in pleasure! Notice any resistance to feeling really good, any thoughts that it is foolish or wrong or vain . . . and then see if you let that go. And fall back into pleasure.  Don't cling to pleasure - that will just make you suffer, sooner or later. Instead, open to pleasant sensations and thoughts, let them in, let them fill you . . . and in the natural flow of things, let them go. Enjoy yourself!

Have Your Spirit Call My Spirit & We'll Do Lunch

Last Sunday, I was sitting at my church, which is a metaphysical, New Thought church.  It came time to pass the collection bag around, and for some reason, I had a thought about how many people I've come across that have argued with me that Spiritual work should not cost anything...that to charge for helping people with Spiritually oriented issues seemed Un-Spiritual and inconsistent with Spiritual principles.  I've heard people question why a church needs to have donations/offerings.  I have also heard this argument in regards to why certain workshops, classes, or coaching that is oriented to helping people transform their lives are charging, either at all or "way too much."  Well, as dangerous a proposition as it can be for me to think, this got me to thinkin'.

On October 2 (two days before the church service I'm referring to), noted Social Media expert Chris Brogan posted a blog called The Audacity Of Free that I really enjoyed a lot. It spoke of the problem that some in our society have in understanding why services with intangible value should cost anything.  While we understand that we have to pay for food, plumbers, and colonoscopies, it gets a bit dicey when we're being asked to pay for workshops, seminars, or donations to churches, for example.  [A disclaimer here: I lead workshops and provide coaching for which the "value" is not fully predictable (until the end of the workshops or sessions), so I have an affinity for this subject.]  I wrestle with it all the time.  Now, to complicate matters further, my "value" that I provide is not only largely intangible, but I traffic in work and coaching that is unabashedly spiritually oriented; that is, I do all I do to basically assist people in being able to develop a deeper connection to their Spirit and to whatever Divine Presence they may believe in and long to be more connected to.  When you start bringing Spirituality into the picture, things can get pretty interesting pretty quickly with this "Shouldn't Spirit stuff be free, or at least cheap?" kind of thinking.

Well, as I was listening to the Minister give his talk about the critical role that imagination plays in Spiritual development and deepening, mine started running a bit amok.  My mental wanderings went from this topic of "Why do people expect something for nothing in the personal development realm?" to how often people unconsciously apply this same line of thinking  and sense of entitlement towards Spirit Itself. 

How many of you reading this have had thoughts along the lines of "Well, Spirit sure hasn't answered my prayers yet; I asked for a new Weber, and so far all I've gotten is more problems and dissatisfaction," or "Jeez, I've been studying and practicing Spirituality for years, and yet I've still not gotten the answers I'm looking for...nor have I had direct audiences with Spirit in between fast-forwarding through the commercials on the ole Tivo?"  I imagine there are many who have wondered why a Spiritual life or Spiritual Path devotedly pursued has not yet yielded a sense of enlightenment, peace, greater riches of money and contentment, and a noticeable reduction in bad stuff happening.  I know that I've wondered that many times in my Spiritual Path youth and even last week. 

Well, here's a take on what's up with all this, and why any of us could trend towards wanting our healing, our Enlightenment, and our Spiritual Path to eventually get us to Nirvana and states of more frequent bliss, and RIGHT NOW, thank you very much: because we've become complacent, culturally narcissistic, and spiritually lazy.  My friend David has often said, in effect, "Westerners don't have any idea what real Spiritual Practice or discipline really is, particularly compared with Eastern-oriented metaphysicists and Spiritual pilgrims."  I remember bristling at that when I first heard it, not realizing I was unconsciously getting into an internally voiced "My Path is Bigger & Better Than Your Path" brouhaha.  Yet, I submit to you all reading this that it might be a good idea to really take a look at what it is that you're expecting from Spirit and a "Spiritual Path."  If you haven't in awhile, really take a gander at why you're even ON a Spiritual Path, if you consider yourself to be on one (a clue that you are: thoughts like "I'm more Spiritual than he/she/them," or "I'm not being Spiritual enough"). 

Where are you trying to get to?  Do you have thoughts or expectations that reaching a certain stage of "enlightenment" or consciousness will bring you more happiness, ease, and better-ness?  Do you find yourself taking issue with tithing your Spiritual church/Source, or paying for "Spiritual Work?"  If you are, or find yourself going there more often than you'd have imagined you would, then I invite you to consider that your Spirit - and the Divine - don't look at things as a price-tagged commodity and value-added destination.  In all Spiritual Traditions that I'm aware of, there is sacrifice and surrender involved in getting closer to Spirit, along with practice, discipline, devotion, faith, and a healthy dose of egoic humility.  Notice where you resist that, check in with your heart, and see if you're really trying to get "somewhere" as proof of being "Spiritual" enough...or, if you're truly willing to do the work that you may need/want to do to simply surrender into a reality that I believe in...that being "Spiritual" is a state, not a dot on a map.

10 Pounds of S**t In A 5-Pound Bag - A Tribute To A Spirit & The Divine

The expression for which this post is named was one of the most oft-used and delightful expressions uttered by my dear frien d, Jim 'Jaguar' Wilson.  A man who often spoke in a lingo that defied a first-cut understanding, and brought memories of how Jazz Cats talked back in the 60's, the expression nevertheless humorously described a life that often seemed beyond Jim's immediate ideas of what he could handle.  Yet, handle it he did...always finding a way to take whatever obstacles were coming his way - which many did - and then using his Spirit's refusal to bow to defeat to help him either find solutions, or go through the process with an air of "might as well make the best of it, because it is what it is."  It was that inspiring and determined way of living that Jim brought to his year-and-a-half long dying process that finally culminated in his passing on September 27 in my old stomping grounds of Bayfield, Colorado (near Durango).

It is not just to pay tribute to this amazing man that I write this.  Jim would have been a teeny bit embarrassed, I think, to have TOO much fawning over him.  Part of his magic was that he never realized what an inspiration he was in life, and probably wouldn't realize how his death has done the same.  I'm more writing this because, in my grief of losing this gentle, loving man that I knew for 8 years, I see a lesson that's too important not to highlight.  When I was writing a piece for his memorial that was held Tuesday night - outside at a fire circle with all his New Warrior Brothers, family, and friends - I was trying to figure out what I could say and what I most remembered as one of Jim's signature expressions.  The "10 pounds of s**t in a 5-pound bag" one was the first one to come to me.  I've since realized that that was the perfect one, not only because it was something that Jim would say when you asked him to check in on how he was doing, but it ended up being the edge of existence that he always seemed to find himself transcending.  

Transcendence is one of the greatest gifts of possibility that we are given by the Divine through being put in a human existence.  I'm not referring to Transcendence in the sense of rising above something, but simply moving higher beyond a level of consciousness that you have a natural drive to grow beyond, after incorporating all the lessons you can, from each "level."  This is an impulse that the human spirit, at its fullest, can't help but do...it's just a matter of whether we allow it with grace, or if we go kicking and screaming into denying it, fearing it, and avoiding it.  There have been many times in my life that I have taken the latter path, only to find - to both my consternation and relief - that this kind of Transcendence is all but non-avoidable for me and most people.  Jim was a man who modeled for me the beauty of just diving in and going for it.

It was a way of living that he brought to his adventurous younger life climbing mountains and traveling around the world.  He brought it to his incredible jazz guitar playing.  He brought it to how he would fight with his former wife with whom he managed to ultimately co-create a caring relationship with that ended with her being at his side when he passed.  He brought it to his work as an electrician, a job that he truly enjoyed and took great pride in doing with excellence.  Most importantly to him, perhaps, he brought it to the depth of which he loved his daughter Angela and strove to be the kind of father for her that "she deserved," he would often say.  That one goal, above any other, was the one that drove him to constantly transcend any of the limitations he felt he embodied, imagined or real.

For me, personally, he brought it to the way he did his inner work that I was privileged to lead some of, and many times, got to be led in by his example.  Jim didn't let all of his adversities define him or limit him.  Eight months ago, when his Pick's Disease had rendered him unable to walk very far by himself, he showed up in a men's circle still very sharp, mentally, and loving each man in that circle with his wit, his careful attention, and his unwillingness to operate as if he hobbled in any way.  I know it wasn't easy most of the time.  I know Jim had a temper, and I know he had his moments.  He was not a God nor was he perfect, by a long shot.  What he was, however, was a living testament to never stopping to live as fully and as best as possible...the way he loved those he loved was always full-out, unconditional (at least with me), and selfless, often to a fault.  All of that, combined with the fact that he was one of the funniest men I've ever known, made him a humble man of virtue in my book...a man who, in his life and his death, now symbolizes the endless possibility that Spirit offers us all: the moment-by-moment opportunity to choose, to surrender, to glean the messages that Spirit is offering us through our trials and heartaches, and take all that into a life lived as a commitment to being as fully alive and joyful as possible, while following Spirit's lead, rather than the voice of limitation that our Ego-minds thrill in focusing on. 

Godspeed Jazz Man Jaguar.  Thank you for being a Spiritual lesson for so many, but also for being a teacher to all of us who had the privilege of sharing humble space with you.  May you find even greater freedom in your next stage of evolving, no longer having to carry that damn bag, as those of us who miss you already will use your example to continue to find greater levels of our own freedom in our co-creative walk with Spirit, whether we admit it or not.

It Really IS More Than A River in Egypt

"Denial - a defense mechanism in which a person is faced with a fact that is too painful to accept and rejects it instead, insisting that it is not true despite what may be overwhelming evidence. The subject may deny the reality of the unpleasant fact altogether (simple denial), admit the fact but deny its seriousness (minimisation) or admit both the fact and seriousness but deny responsibility (transference)." 

I go into meditation each day with the expectation (hope is more like it) that I will be able to connect with Spirit, in such a way that it will surpass any kind of connection that I could find on Facebook or Twitter.  It would be, and feel like, a direct line to the Divine!  Yet, what often happens is a cavalcade of thoughts, plans, questions, strategies, and - often - frustration, before my mind finally settles down and I get to begin connecting to my own heart (where my connection to Spirit ALWAYS shows up).  I'm sure I'm not alone in that, but I often tell myself that I should be BEYOND such things.  This morning, however, a burst of clarity broke through the murk of my mind's incessant prattling and preening.  While I would have liked this clarity to have been about some wondrous and profound Spiritual transmutation, or related to some type of "Who Am I?"-type inquiry, it was a much less romantic, much less warm and fuzzy message.  It was about DENIAL.

I had this stunning and seemingly unfortunate awareness that I have been swimming pretty deeply in the river of denial for the last few weeks.  In the context of this post, you may be asking yourself, "What IS denial, in a Spiritual context?  (Of course, the problem with that question is that, if you knew the answer, it would be much harder to be in denial. This is no fun for the parts of our mind and ego that regularly like to purchase and redeem frequent flyer miles in the Denial Club.)

 The definition of denial at the top of this post fits me and seems like a good jumping off point to the Spiritual context. Though, before elaborating on that, I want to presence one key element I think is missing from that definition.  That would be the fourth type of denial, which I term "Resistance," which is admitting both the fact and seriousness, getting you're responsible, but not doing anything about it anyway!  What hit me with no small measure of dismay this morning was seeing that I have been fitting all those characteristics of late.  

One of the key things I've been in denial about (but grateful to reawaken to) is the painful fact that I have been completely snookered by my mind and by survival energy.  This energy has been craftily disguised and embedded in a concentrated blast of weeks of researching, pondering, and strategizing new ways to "brand" myself; in particular, to brand my business, which - of course - is ME!  I've been searching for new and better (read, more effective income generation) ways to share what it is I do and more effectively convey why others should wish to partake of my talents.  In that process, almost exclusively managed by what I refer to as the "Ego-Mind," my being impressed with my protean level of productivity and earnestness has been disguising something that's critical for me to never lose sight of. What I've been denying is the pain and terror of uncertainty, the fear that comes with not being sure, the dread of what could happen if it "doesn't work," and the frustration of being a decent writer that hasn't been able, for weeks, to come up with anything that stuck.  I thought was being completely guided by my Spirit, by God (my word for Spirit, when I'm not using Spirit or The Divine), and was on the right track.  This was accompanied by no small matter of smug self-satisfaction.

A part of this smugness is often, for me, accompanied by the denial-laden thought, "I've finally conquered this or that demon....I'm past it now!"  What I wasn't seeing, however, was that I have been running from some of my innermost fears - the ones I like to believe I've overcome and/or gotten rid of (yet another piece of denial!) - by using this seemingly productive and metaphysically correct burst of marketing and re-invention activities to mask deeper beliefs that I wasn't wanting to really take ownership of.  These beliefs have dogged me - and I am sure that this could be true for millions of people out there - by seducing me into getting sucked into believing a few things that take me, and any of us, down the primrose path when you're really trying to live a Spirit-led life.  These are the beliefs that Denial serves to keep locked into place for me and so many others.  I offer a few of them below that, whilst MY particular brand of denial fodder, may be more universal than many of us want to admit.  They include:

• It's all up to me.  I have to have the answers, the brilliance, and the clarity of all that needs to be done to reach my goals and vision.
• I am in control when I do it all.
• I'm not being a good provider or teacher if I don't figure it all out for myself.
• People will respect me (I'll respect me) more if I work three times harder than the other person, which will get me what I need...even if I'm half-dead by the time I'm all done and can't enjoy the fruits of my labor;
• I'm a better, more lovable person if I do it all myself; and, lastly,
• I don't need help!

You may be wondering (or not) how I realized that I was in all this denial.  It was quite simple really.  I woke up to how closed my heart has been...a sure sign that Survival Energy (more on that topic in future postings) has me (and anyone).  In this morning's meditation, I felt the longing for my connection to Spirit.  I began feeling the ache and tears welling up because I wasn't feeling that connection.  Then, I let the tears come, and my heart opened.  I felt the presence of Spirit around me, and then the weight and burden of my Survival, in that moment, disappeared.  In that moment, I got to feel my heart that I'd been too busy and too doing-focused to notice was had gotten too far in the background.  Most importantly, I saw that I haven't been letting Spirit co-create with me.  My denial had me believing that I didn't need Spirit's help any more than I need the support of my loved ones and friends.

Dear readers, whenever you find yourself having thoughts like that, and want to do a reality check to get yourself back on the path of truly following the flow Spirit has in mind for you, I respectfully suggest you do something as simple as noticing how long it's been since you told your partner you loved them, hugged your children just because you want to, and have been moved to tears by someone else's good fortune and love.  Do any of those, and you will find yourself no longer going down the river of De-nile without a paddle.

Shame in Action (& Inaction)

Before my net post gets back to the next installment of my story that got started in late June, I wanted to use this venue as a place to remind myself, primarily, of the power and Modus Operandi of shame.  If it's helpful to you, the reader, that's also wonderful.  What I want to share about is just one facet of how shame can control us that is worth paying sober attention to.

When something happens to us that hurts our feelings, makes us mad, scares us, or - for me, in particular - proves to be very disappointing, shame is usually triggered.  "I'm not enough," "They don't like me," "They don't know what they're missing," "I screwed up, and am paying the price" "I can't really do it, so to hell with it,", etc. Are any of those part of your emotional response repertoire (as they can be for me)?  If so, how do you respond to it?  Are you even consciously aware of that being what's happening when you suddenly put on the brakes with your dreams, your ambitions, your passion, and/or your work?  Does procrastination set in, aided by the subtle yet insidious helpmate, distraction?

If the answer is yes to those last two questions, then you can use that state as an indicator for you...an indicator that you're in the midst of a shame attack.  When this happens to me, and I know from years of working with people on these issues that I'm not alone, I am no longer present.  I don't just mean present in the room; I'm talking, not even in 2009.  I'm not really reacting to a current situation from my older, wiser, 51-year-old self.  No, I'm feeling and acting (or not acting) from a very young part of myself.  I've been triggered into a wound, or wounds, that go back many decades.  When that happens, I will often find myself responding from the same menu of responses that I first learned as a child, mostly from my parents.  When my mom got disappointed as I was growing up (and through her whole life, really), her stock response was to get mad or devastatedly hurt, which was almost always followed by her taking her energy away, usually into depression.  It was always about her wounds, but to cope with it, she had to first make it all about the other party who had (usually) inadvertantly disappointed her.  

I'm blessed to have finally outgrown adopting that particular habit of making it all be about the other "offending" party as a regular practice.  However, it's become so easy to go radically to the other extreme, where it must ALWAYS be about me.  Either way, the egoic conceit and emotional hobbling that either side of the spectrum engenders ends up being crippling...unless we're paying attention, learning to discern the difference between healthy shame and self-flagellating shame, and can better master discerning between when we're retreating to healthy, Spirit-led introspection or proverbially (and oft literally) hanging our head in shame as we go into full cave retreat decimated by shame and/or resignation.

These are the lessons I've seen this week - as I've ended up doing so much of what I learned from my family to and with myself - that I still get to keep learning and practicing at ever greater depths, in spite of my ego's desire to feel it's all handled.  And, you?

The First Cut Was (One Of) The Deepest

Introduction

Two posts ago, I was in the second installment of my series on the story/journey of my personal relationship and experiences with shame.  It is, again, my intention to have this series be not only healing for me, but of great use to you readers who have your own relationship and experiences with shame. How we interact with this greatly determines the directions our lives take, in my experience. 

In that last posting related to this topic, I wrote about my birth.  It's been interesting to notice how much I have resisted writing today's post for the last hour.  I have hoped that doing this particular series would open up new levels of feeling for me, and the kind of resistance I've experienced this morning, and the last three days, tells me this one must be a juicy one in the making!

The Day After

I can only imagine what my first night was like.  Born at 9:20 pm, separated from my Mom in my first hours and night, no nose to speak of, no easy way to be fed (especially by my mother), insufficient bonding time (which we now know is crucial to an infant's sense of safety), and being in some plasticene box that nurseries used in those days.  What a great way to start.  To add one other wrinkle, at that time, my parents did not have much money.  I can only imagine the level of distress that they both must have been going through.  A child they weren't really planning on in the first place, necessitating a reconciliation that neither of them really wanted, and the kid comes along with this major birth defect.  I can only imagine.

In what was to be the first instance of a lifetime of trauma and challenge, often if not always offset by great blessings, it was clear that this enormous bi-lateral cleft had to be repaired...fast.  While I don't know how this came about, and all the parties involved - including my parents - are gone and can't give me the scoop, a miracle occurred. A prominent plastic surgeon at Stanford, named Dr. Robert Berner, heard about my case.  i suspect that an outfit like Easter Seals or some other local non-profit dealing with helping children with birth defects in the San Mateo, CA area where I was born had heard about my situation and contacted him.  He came the morning after my birth, examined me and, even though my family had no money to pay for such surgery, agreed to do the first of what would be three repairs that would ultimately be done on me within the first five years of my life. 

Consequently, after being on the planet for less than 24 hours, I was anesthetized and operated on.  In what must have been a 2-3 hour procedure, I imagine, with the best of whatever medical procedures and technology was available in 1958, my tattered and incomplete face was put back together again.  Even as I sit here writing this, the terror, confusion, and grief are filling my body and bringing tears.  The feeling of being isolated at the very beginning of my life, and then being knocked out, cut on, and getting to wake up afterwards in what must have been an extraordinary amount of pain (judging from surgical experiences I do have conscious recall of), simply breaks my heart...for me and for my parents.  It was not an auspicious beginning to this life, and it set in place a terror and anesthetized part of me that I have grappled with all my life.

While the face that got re-constructed turned out beautifully (according to the phalanx of doctors, dentists, speech therapists, and others that would treat me over the years), it would end up being the face that, for 36 years, felt like the ugliest visage anyone could ever look at.  It would feel like, and be experienced as, the greatest tragedy and millstone in my life.  In addition, for me, it never left my body or my psyche that one of my first waking experiences (and, now, cellular memories) was that life was pain, terror, isolation, separation, and a massive amount of confusion.  Of course, this is not all in my conscious remembering, but the amount of pain and sadness I'm feeling, that my keyboard can't even distract me from at this point, tells me all I need to know about how difficult and traumatic this was for me.  It was a beginning that scarred both my face and my heart for decades. 

This would prove to be the one of the most instrumental traumas in my journey towards my own Divinity.

Next time, the beginning of the Wonder Years (Not)....

What Is It That We Are So Afraid Of?

In a short one-day break from my series on the rich, wonderful world of the transformative power of shame, I wanted to just throw a question out the blogosphere; in particular, the portion of the blogosphere readers that concern themselves with matters spiritual, metaphysical, or just plain curious. 

I was meeting with a client tonight who is undergoing a lot of turmoil over a decision needing to be made.  This person has a strong inner knowing what the decision is for them, yet is agonizing over what to do, often telling themselves, "I don't know what to do," or "I don't know what I want."  In the case of this person, it was obvious to me that this individual knows what "The Truth" is, but the ego is so at odds with this person's heart's truth, that it feels compelled to keep this person in a perpetual state of distress and emotional vapor lock.  So, what's the question already?

It's simply this (and it's a two-parter)..."How often do you really ignore and/or overlook what your own intuition is telling you about any given situation?"  And, "When you do, what are you getting instead?"

I want to invite my readers to look at that for themselves.  Look honestly and candidly.  How much do you override your own instinct and your own nature?  If you do, why?    When you DO override your instincts, what is really winning?

What do you end up choosing instead of your own nature and your own inner guidance? 

I invite people to comment on this post by answering these three questions and then sharing what you've gotten to learn from getting caught up in that patterns.

Maybe it's going to be freeing to look your purpose squarely in the eye and get the opportunity to share it once and for all.

Original Sin...Did It Really Begin With That?

INTRO

Two days ago, I began what will be a series of posts to the blog meant to explore and share my life's stories (or at least some particular ones), in the hopes that they will provide illumination and healing to any shame I still carry, as well as offering lessons and perspectives to others that may prove helpful.  So, here is the first installment.

THE ENTRANCE WAS A ROUGH ONE

As far as I understand it, Catholicism espouses the notion that, from the moment we're born, we are sinners.  We come into this life, as the infamous "they" say (at least the Catholic "they's"), already being damaged goods.  Were I Catholic, this concept of Original Sin would have long ago helped me make much more sense of the pervasive sense of shame that I have grappled with as long as I can remember.  I'd have been able to pin it all on the fact that - in God's eyes - I was screwed from the outset, thus absolving myself of any responsibility for true, damaging flaws that contributed to the high level of distress so common to my childhood and beyond.

Since I don't have that theological "out," it seems to have started pre-entrance.

My mother, Vickie, and my father, Jim, had been in what was most likely a pretty impetuous teen marriage, which began in 1956, when they were 19 and 21 respectively.  I have no idea of whether or not I was planned, but what I found out in my mid-40s was that they had already separated and were heading for divorce when they discovered that I was coming along.  In an effort to provide me with some sort of stable family life, they decided to move back in together and attempt to hold the relationship together.  While my Mom seemed very clear about, and was somehow proud to share, the fact that I was conceived in the back of a '57 Chevy, to the connubial strains of Johnny Mathis, I never had a definitive sense that I was planned or wanted.  I can certainly imagine that, at worst, my impending arrival was very inconvenient.  I can only guess that, since my mom was so young, so self-obsessed, and extremely prone to a great deal of fear-laden anxiety, the pregnancy was difficult.  I can imagine that a lot of the energy of her mixed feelings and fear was energy that I got to feel a great deal whilst gestating.

Back in the 50's, there wasn't yet the consciousness of the potential damage that could be done by smoking and drinking during pregnancy.  My mother was a chronically lonely and needy person, and in her teens and early 20's, smoking and drinking were things she did a lot.  There is no way I'll ever know if her smoking and drinking had anything to do with my birth defect, but my entrance into this life was extremely traumatic.

Birth is no picnic to begin with, if you stop to think about it; at least in 1958, it wasn't a picnic.  Before the days of water births, after 9 months of having it nice and cushy, warm, wet, and on a 24-7 feed bag from your Mom, you get tossed and pushed out of your happy little home into a really loud, blazingly bright room, with your mother screaming bloody murder (unless she'd had an epidural, which my Mom didn't).  How welcoming is that?  However, I had an extra disadvantage.  I was born with a bi-lateral cleft palate and lip.  In fact, as my mother told me, it was such a severe cleft, there was minimal soft tissue around my mouth and nose, to the point where I had no visible nose...just exposed bone.  Because of this condition, I was unable to nurse and wasn't placed with my mom on that first night.  I was placed in the nursery, under constant supervision by nurses.  The critical first moments of bonding that we now know are so essential to an infant's sense of well-being was not mine to have.  Whatever trauma that that was for me, in and of itself, at the time, it was nothing compared to what was going to happen the following day.

...Let The Adventure Begin

"You teach what you most need to learn." 

That old chestnut has been a perennial mantra that has often come back around into my consciousness.  For the last 14 years, I have been working with people in healing their wounds...emotional wounds, psychic wounds, and sometimes even Spiritual wounds.  I have done this on a one-on-one basis, as well as having led hundreds of workshops that have assisted people in reaching new levels of peace and healing with the particular wounds we've sustained in growing up with our families of origin.  When I got into that field - after spending 16 years in a corporate career that i wasn't even realizing was zapping me of any vitality, connection to Spirit (mine or the Divine), and connection to all that was wonderful in my life - I felt that I was doing it to fulfill on what was then a newly re-discovered and reclaimed sense of what my friend David Rubine has referred to as my Soul Purpose.

I got exhilarated by the thrill and joy of really being able to help people begin and/or deepen the kind of transformational journey back to the full expression of their Spirit that I had so dramatically started undergoing in the early 90's.  Back then, for me, it was all about being captivated by and passionately engaged with the rush that comes with truly being in the groove of what you're meant to do.  Recently, however, I have come to truly & viscerally see that there is perhaps an even larger reason why I made that career and life transition all those years ago.  It's a reason that is now coming home to roost in all my emotional fibers, that I hadn't really seen or given true holistic credence to.  While it is extremely rewarding to see that my work with people makes a tremendous difference, I've now come to see that the difference that has really needed to be made, as much as with others, is with myself. In particular, I am getting a whole new view of the difference that needs to be made in my relationship with shame.

For all the work I've done with others in recognizing, honoring, feeling, and shifting their deepest shames and shadows, I've come to see that there are far more layers of my own that are wanting to be given oxygen and light, so that those layers become a rich, golden part of the fabric of the gifts I have to offer people, as a teacher, a coach, and as a human being.  These are layers of my self that I didn't realize I was still carrying great judgement with...that I was wanting to sweep under some rug, so that I could feel I had evolved beyond them and needn't be bothered with or by them any further.  I hadn't seen it so clearly as I have in recent weeks.  I had really deluded myself into thinking that there were layers I was complete with that it turns out aren't complete with me.  These layers I refer to are layers of shame that I have stuffed, compartmentalized, camouflaged, and denied.  Like most people, the shame with which I now get to fall more deeply in love with is the shame that I've come to believe is all about me...who I am, who I'm not, who I don't feel I could really be, etc.  

Now, why am I sharing all this with all of you?  Why am I bringing into the public eye the kind of observations and truths that usually aren't mentioned in polite company?  Those were the first two thoughts that came to me when I got inspired this morning - by two dear friends of mine - to start what I believe is going to be a book.  This is probably the book that I've resisted writing for at least 25 years, since I was first told in an astrological reading that I would write a book one day.  I used to say to myself that I was resisting because I didn't know what to write about...others have already written any kind of book I might write...there's nothing about me or my story that would be of any interest to others that hadn't already been on a talk show, radio show, or on Oprah.  

This is a bit odd, given the kinds of things that have happened to me in my life, and given a lot of my accomplishments, which seem to belie the shadow myths in my mind that have held those kinds of statements, feelings, and beliefs firmly in place.  Nevertheless, what I've been resisting, that the book merely forces me to truly open up to, is my particular journey with shame, with my own childhood wounding (at a new level), and what it may have to teach others who have been/are experiencing anything similar that keeps them locked into an egoic box that feels insurmountable; particularly, insurmountable in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary.  And, I'm clear that this exploration must be out in the open, otherwise the shame's hold keeps its hegemony.  

Consequently, I'm going to follow my intuition and inspiration to share my story; in particular, to share how my walk with shame is the very source of that which makes me good at what I do, that makes me the kind of teacher and guide that I have become for so many, and the possible gift to others that may assist their walks being clearer, more balanced, and perhaps less traumatic.  I am sharing this with you all to be able to learn to love what I'm ashamed of, even as I intend its hold to transform and transmute into greater love and greater gift-giving.  I am going to do something which is, in many ways, radical for me.  I am going to forego my tendency, as much as possible, to have to have it all be perfect, to have it all be ok with all of you out there, to have it be strictly some kind of PR piece.  I'm going to just tell it like I see it, and bring all my heart and truth to it.  How will that look?

I am going to post pieces every two days, and see where it takes me.  I am clear the telling will guide the pathway and direction.  I strongly invite you who are reading this and may be willing to read future installments, to comment on the postings.  To use the comments box to share how any of what I'm sharing may mirror your own thoughts, beliefs, and feelings...or not.  Please use my story, my process here, to take you wherever it could towards seeing your own stories and wounds - particularly those you hide from others and/or yourself - as an integral part of your own Divinity and Brilliance.

I welcome you in joining me to see how this all unfolds...off we go....

That old chestnut has been a perennial mantra that has often come back around into my consciousness.  For the last 14 years, I have been working with people in healing their wounds...emotional wounds, psychic wounds, and sometimes even Spiritual wounds.  I have done this on a one-on-one basis, as well as having led hundreds of workshops that have assisted people in reaching new levels of peace and healing with the particular wounds we've sustained in growing up with our families of origin.  When I got into that field - after spending 16 years in a corporate career that i wasn't even realizing was zapping me of any vitality, connection to Spirit (mine or the Divine), and connection to all that was wonderful in my life - I felt that I was doing it to fulfill on what was then a newly re-discovered and reclaimed sense of what my friend David Rubine has referred to as my Soul Purpose.

I got exhilarated by the thrill and joy of really being able to help people begin and/or deepen the kind of transformational journey back to the full expression of their Spirit that I had so dramatically started undergoing in the early 90's.  Back then, for me, it was all about being captivated by and passionately engaged with the rush that comes with truly being in the groove of what you're meant to do.  Recently, however, I have come to truly & viscerally see that there is perhaps an even larger reason why I made that career and life transition all those years ago.  It's a reason that is now coming home to roost in all my emotional fibers, that I hadn't really seen or given true holistic credence to.  While it is extremely rewarding to see that my work with people makes a tremendous difference, I've now come to see that the difference that has really needed to be made, as much as with others, is with myself. In particular, I am getting a whole new view of the difference that needs to be made in my relationship with shame.

For all the work I've done with others in recognizing, honoring, feeling, and shifting their deepest shames and shadows, I've come to see that there are far more layers of my own that are wanting to be given oxygen and light, so that those layers become a rich, golden part of the fabric of the gifts I have to offer people, as a teacher, a coach, and as a human being.  These are layers of my self that I didn't realize I was still carrying great judgement with...that I was wanting to sweep under some rug, so that I could feel I had evolved beyond them and needn't be bothered with or by them any further.  I hadn't seen it so clearly as I have in recent weeks.  I had really deluded myself into thinking that there were layers I was complete with that it turns out aren't complete with me.  These layers I refer to are layers of shame that I have stuffed, compartmentalized, camouflaged, and denied.  Like most people, the shame with which I now get to fall more deeply in love with is the shame that I've come to believe is all about me...who I am, who I'm not, who I don't feel I could really be, etc.  

Now, why am I sharing all this with all of you?  Why am I bringing into the public eye the kind of observations and truths that usually aren't mentioned in polite company?  Those were the first two thoughts that came to me when I got inspired this morning - by two dear friends of mine - to start what I believe is going to be a book.  This is probably the book that I've resisted writing for at least 25 years, since I was first told in an astrological reading that I would write a book one day.  I used to say to myself that I was resisting because I didn't know what to write about...others have already written any kind of book I might write...there's nothing about me or my story that would be of any interest to others that hadn't already been on a talk show, radio show, or on Oprah.  

This is a bit odd, given the kinds of things that have happened to me in my life, and given a lot of my accomplishments, which seem to belie the shadow myths in my mind that have held those kinds of statements, feelings, and beliefs firmly in place.  Nevertheless, what I've been resisting, that the book merely forces me to truly open up to, is my particular journey with shame, with my own childhood wounding (at a new level), and what it may have to teach others who have been/are experiencing anything similar that keeps them locked into an egoic box that feels insurmountable; particularly, insurmountable in the face of obvious evidence to the contrary.  And, I'm clear that this exploration must be out in the open, otherwise the shame's hold keeps its hegemony.  

Consequently, I'm going to follow my intuition and inspiration to share my story; in particular, to share how my walk with shame is the very source of that which makes me good at what I do, that makes me the kind of teacher and guide that I have become for so many, and the possible gift to others that may assist their walks being clearer, more balanced, and perhaps less traumatic.  I am sharing this with you all to be able to learn to love what I'm ashamed of, even as I intend its hold to transform and transmute into greater love and greater gift-giving.  I am going to do something which is, in many ways, radical for me.  I am going to forego my tendency, as much as possible, to have to have it all be perfect, to have it all be ok with all of you out there, to have it be strictly some kind of PR piece.  I'm going to just tell it like I see it, and bring all my heart and truth to it.  How will that look?

I am going to post pieces every two days, and see where it takes me.  I am clear the telling will guide the pathway and direction.  I strongly invite you who are reading this and may be willing to read future installments, to comment on the postings.  To use the comments box to share how any of what I'm sharing may mirror your own thoughts, beliefs, and feelings...or not.  Please use my story, my process here, to take you wherever it could towards seeing your own stories and wounds - particularly those you hide from others and/or yourself - as an integral part of your own Divinity and Brilliance.

I welcome you in joining me to see how this all unfolds...off we go....