DICHOTOMY

ominous sky.jpg
“It has always been much easier (because it has always seemed much safer) to give a name to the evil without than to locate the terror within….”
~ James Baldwin

Who can make us safe? What will make us safe?
Here is truth:
We will never be safe.

Only one cause of death exists, and that is birth.
To be alive is to know that one day we won’t be.

Safety an illusion.
Only fear is real.
Here is truth:
The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

We are not safe from Christians or Buddhists or Hindus, or Jews or Muslims or Sikhs. (Well, maybe from the Buddhists.) We are not safe from atheists or devil worshippers or snake handlers or televangelists. Or false prophets.

We are not safe from the angry white person or the angry person of color. We are as at risk from the privileged as we are from the oppressed. We are not safe from terrorists or those who battle them. We are not safe from protestors or counter-protestors, pacifists or instigators, or from people who look the other way.

Teachers, preachers, rabbis, priests, imams, and gurus will not keep us safe, nor will astrologers, fortune tellers, or shamans. Not scientists, economists, writers or artists. Neither think tanks, nor blustery arguing heads, nor airwave pontificators, nor Wall Street Bankers. Corporations won't keep us safe, nor the mom-and-pop shop where the tire display was not securely fastened to the wall.

Can’t-we-all-just-get-along and a-pox-on-all-their houses won’t make us safe. Nor will our bubbles.

We won’t be made safe by the Constitution, laws, policy, politicians, presidents, prime ministers or all the king’s men (and women.)

Righteous folks and evil minds. Democrats and Republicans. Conservatives, liberals, progressives, moderates, feminists, Luddites, snowflakes, antifa, neo-Nazi, do-gooder, hypocrite, hippie, preppers, and the apathetic — we all are one in our vulnerability.

Police, spies, counterspies. All the generals and the admirals in the mighty military can’t make us safe. Nor troops on the ground, battleships on the seas, drones in the air. Satellites and nuclear arsenals will not keep us safe.

morning sky.jpg

A wall will not save, nor will barbed-wire border crossings. Neither TSA pat downs nor airport X-rays. Not the defend-myself-arsenals, nor a pistol wedged under the mattress. Home security systems can’t keep us safe, nor armed guards, nor concrete barricades. The prisons are full, and still we are not safe.

Clearly the courts cannot make us safe.

The random bullet will find us, or the driver distracted by alcohol, texting, or rage. The mid-air engine failure. The unloosed boulder. A bee sting, a venomous snake does that does what it was born to do. An avalanche, a hurricane, a tornado, an earthquake, the raging wildfire and the rising seas. A hidden live wire, the slip of a scalpel, the stumble that connects concrete to cranium. One too many pills.

We are at risk from a sneeze on a crowded plane, the rogue cell in its malignant unfolding. A weakened heart, the burst blood vessel, a raging infection, the miscreant morsel of steak wedged in the windpipe. A mutant gene that decimates muscles, snatches breath, and denies dignity.

Should we survive the accidents, natural disasters, wars, disease, our stupidity and our own bleak thoughts, eventually, it will be time. No one can save us from time.

Science and facts! Reason and logic! Technology and great minds! Yes!
Yet they can’t make us safe.

Faith, God, Religion, and the rituals of an undefined Spiritual Path offer comfort, hope and peace. Compassion, Kindness, and Love light the world.
But these cannot ensure safety.

Good deeds will not make us safe, nor kumbaya singing.

Our parents, our spouses, our friends, our lovers, and our children — people we would willingly die to defend – how they want to keep us safe! They will fight with everything they have to keep us safe.

It is impossible.

dawn.jpg

If love cannot keep us safe, how can fear?

Fear can serve, of course. But left unfettered, it enslaves. We are lost in darkness.

We will never be safe. Safety is illusion.
Only by forgoing fear will freedom ring.

GO ON, GET OLD!

do not regret age.jpg

Today is my birthday, and I have a birthday wish for you: Get old.

I really, truly hope you get old. Really old. Worn out, exceeding expectations, wrinkled-and-wise old.

This is on my mind not only because it is my birthday, but because lately I've heard people telling those who are much younger than they are "Don't get old!"

No one means it literally.. That would mean early death and heartbreak. I get that they say it as a gentle and humorous way of letting off steam about their own aching joints, memory lapses, and muscles that motor more slowly than they used to. That's happening to me, too.

Even so, I want to get OLD! And I want that for my children, and their children and all my loved ones my friends. It's a gift denied to so many.

There's no denying that with age comes loss. But then again, youth has its own challenges. If you're lucky enough to get old,  you've a survivor. You've learned thingsIf you're old, you have gained far more than you lost. And in the (literal) end, your exit from this earth is completely out of your control anyway.

This year, my gift to myself is to strive harder to be present to my life. What better gift? I want to savor every moment with the people I hold dear. I want to connect deeply with people so they that become dear to me. I want to recognize life's challenges for what they are — momentary pain that provide opportunities for a little humility, learning. and personal growth. I want to immerse myself in love and gratitude. 

I want to get old without apology.

When I blow out my birthday candles, I will wish that for you, too, no matter what your age. I will wish for you a rich life filled with sparkling, mindful moments, and enough challenges to make you grateful for the good times.

And I will hold the vision of you and I getting old.  Really, really old.

 

EASY LOVING

bodhi qat blog 1.JPG

Who is easiest for you to love?

Erich Schiffmann, an internationally renowned master yoga teacher, posed the question during a weekend intensive I attended a few months ago. He quickly refined the question: It was not about who do you love the most. It is not about for whom would you do anything. Nor for whom you would die protecting.

Who is easiest for you to love?

My mind immediately snapped to the obvious answers. Well, my family, of course! My husband, my children, my grandchildren. Without a doubt they are the ones I love the most. They occupy a vast and prominent landscape in my emotional territory. Their place in my heart is assured. And though I hope I’m never put to the test, I would do anything to protect them.

But... easiest to love? Honestly? Not always. Like most human relationships, my love for family is layered with expectations — mine and theirs. Though it is usually subtle and subconscious, I struggle when they don’t do what I want them to do, or see things in the way I think they should.  I judge. We argue. I expect them to be who I think they should be, and I get disappointed when they aren’t.

My love for my family is boundless. Our tethering and the profound connection we share is bedrock. No doubt about that.

But easiest to love? Well, that would have to be Bodhi Qat.

Schiffmann describes love as the willingness to see and accept what is real in another. In other words,  truly loving someone means saying, “I see you. And I willingly choose to recognize and honor what is real and true about you.” With complete acceptance. Without expectations.

I see Bodhi. I never expect him to be anything but a cat.

bodhi sink.jpg

When he begins to sharpen his claws on the chair in the second bedroom, I don’t explode in anger because he isn’t taking better care of the furniture. Why would I expect a cat to care about furniture? I direct him to his scratching post or trim his claws.

When he jumps on my head at 4:30 a.m. every morning, I don’t simmer with resentment because he won’t let me sleep. That’s the time he wakes up. He wants to eat, and that’s how he lets me know. Bodhi either gets fed, or I put him out and shut the door until I’m ready to feed him. Have I trained him to keep off the kitchen counters and dining room table? I have, while acknowledging that it's his nature to jump up there.

Never have I stewed over why Bodhi doesn’t sleep less and work more. When he bites my elbow while I’m trying to work, I don’t take it personally. I know he wants to play, and I throw him a toy mouse.  I never expect him to take my advice, follow my instructions, pay more attention to me, or help around the house. I never expect him to be anything but the feline creature he is.

Bodhi is easy to love because I see that a cat is all he can be.

Since that weekend, I’ve thought a lot about why it is so hard to truly see people in the same way I see Bodhi. Why do I let ego block my ability to see and recognize and honor what is real about people — the ones I hold most dear and those who pass fleetingly through my life? Why do I choose to cling to expectations and slog through a swamp of disappointment when they don’t get met? Why do I expect them to take care of the furniture, let me sleep, take my advice, and behave the way I think they should?  

Learning to love people in this way is a practice. Awareness is the first step. With intention, action, and practice, I hope some day to learn to see people as they are, not through the lens of my expectations. I want to learn to love people in the way I love Bodhi. 

POLITICS AT OM

A few weeks before I started working with Jamie, I had begun an 7-month yoga teacher-training course to deepen my practice and to learn more about the philosophical foundation of this ancient tradition. I was constantly amazed by the similarities and connections between what I was learning in my yoga training and what I was learning as Jamie and I taught conversations workshops to workers in a large healthcare company we were working with. (This also gave me terrific experience and increased my passion for writing the book.)

In light of all the the political rhetoric of the last two weeks, the accusations and counteraccusations, the questions asked that never really get answered, the divisive personal attacks that don’t contribute to anyone’s understanding of the issues, I have been reflecting on one of the precepts I was taught in those yoga classes called Right Speech. One maxim, consisting of three questions we should ask ourselves before we speak, flew right into my heart:

      Is it true?

      Is it kind?

      Is it necessary?


     Does it improve upon the silence?

If those four questions were answered honestly before anyone spoke, how would the political conversation change? Would what we heard be more useful? Would we listen differently? How would answering these questions change the conversations in our organizations, our communities, our friendships and our families? 

What would that kind of world look like?