Awakening

There’s an old saying here in Oregon. “The only people to predict the weather are fools and newcomers.” Guilty on the first count.  It’s March 1st, and I had planned to wake up to warm spring breezes and beds of daffodils swaying. Instead I get this blanket of pure white beauty tucked softly over the hills. Lovely. But hardly what I planned. Fooled again.

The last couple of days the weather has brought other surprises. Sleet. Heavy winds. Chilling to the bones. I didn’t like that surprise. But one thing that Oregon has taught me is not to take the weather personally.

I’m noticing the same thing about feelings. We humans have these pesky emotions that seem to come through just like weather fronts.  When we don’t take them personally, each one of them leaves a particular gift or shows us something we need to see. And then it moves on.

Emotions are problematic for many of us because they’re unpredictable. And because most of us learned early that they can be dangerous, we tend to ignore them (often at our own peril).

There’s another saying about the weather here. “If you don’t like it, wait a few minutes.”

I’ve noticed how very true this is for emotions. When I just notice where they are in my body, giving them their time, they seem to move and shift. A little tightness in the throat. Moving to the chest. A constriction there. I breathe. It changes.

I first discovered this emotional weather front when I grieved my father’s death years ago.  A cloud burst would enter my body, pregnant with sad energy. I would cry. Hard. Then it would leave. like a tropical cloudburst, allowing me sweet release. With an open heart I would go about the business of receiving friends, planning the memorial service. Then…another front would move in, clearing the way for whatever was next.

The problem of emotions arises when our minds attempt to manipulate to control them. To welcome some and disallow others. Preferring sunny days, we lose a more nuanced reality. We become perky and inauthentic, but not someone who is able to connect deeply and honestly. We miss one of the biggest gifts of emotions: their ability to connect us from the heart.

If most of us here voted, we’d probably choose sunny Southern California weather most days. But we can’t, and our weather is full of subtlety and surprises. The beautiful result is Oregon’s acclaimed lush and verdant landscape. Full. Rich. Just like a life open to feeling.

What about you? What do you notice about the gift of feeling your feelings? How has it enriched your life to notice your emotional weather without taking it personally? It’s a deep practice. That’s what I notice.

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I recently heard of a Tibetan Rinpoche who said “it’s not the thought. It’s the glue.” Body and mind shouted, YES!

I’ve spent a whole lot of time in the last seven years looking for THE thought that would bring freedom, finding thought after thought that opened the doors of truth. Painful beliefs have a way (only always) of not being true.

But, dang it, some of those doors are pretty determined to slam shut again. It’s as if there is a very viscous and sticky substance that allows them to open just enough to get a peek of possibility, but then pulls them closed. So I’ve been getting curious about that glue, poking a stick in it and then pulling it out and seeing what happens, as I sit in my own inquiry.

Here’s my partial conclusion. There are many types of glue-like substances. But a big one is fear. Fear of change, even though the change is good. Fear of being abandoned, of not being included, of (the big one), fear of death itself. Sometimes this fear waits in the wings, and sometimes it comes closer. But it becomes a  powerful adhesive when it binds with a long-held belief.

A few years ago my son was in a house fire that almost took his life. He managed to wake up and get out of the house, which exploded within a minute later. He was in a medically-induced coma for more than five weeks. Bone-chilling fear. The kind of glue-like fear that could easily have kept me stuck in inaction.

Inquiry (and a whole lot of support from sources seen and unseen) got me through. I was able to experience waves of fear. Poking around, I noticed the Big Kahuna of Beliefs. He could die. Or the Little Kahuna: he would be permanently damaged and unable to live a happy life.

As I poked, I noticed how deeply painful these beliefs were. I could barely manage to feel the terror of them. As I continued questioning my mind, I could only see that I didn’t know that they were true. I could see that they were actually a fanciful creation of my own terror.

I juxtaposed the effect of both beliefs in my mind. With them: fear. Without: hope. The first belief glued my body to the bed. The second motivated clear thinking.

Poking around in the glue gave me the ability to stretch it to the point of freedom. Kind and intentional action.

That experience changed Ben forever. He’s now safe and alive, living a life that sustains him, gratefully.

It changed me, too, in many ways. But what stands out in my memory right now is how powerful a couple of questions can be to stretch or even dissolve the Super Glue of the worst fears of all.

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