The Good in Goodbye

My yoga class today was exceptionally enlightening and uplifting, to the point that I feel compelled to share the lesson.  My teacher shared with us the experience of taking her second son to college last week.  She was absent from our classes when she drove him to school.  She had spoken to us of her trepidation surrounding this major step in her life.  Today, at the beginning of class, she shared her struggle with us, in tears.  She said that like everything in life, “this too shall pass,” and “the only thing we can truly expect in this life is change.”  What really stood out in her words today was this: we all have to let go of experiences, stages, and even people we love.  While it is often easy to let go of what seems bad, we also have to let of go things in our lives that are good, when the time comes; and this prepares us to receive new blessings. 

Letting go of the good in our lives…that is tough to accept!  One man in the class had also dropped his daughter off at college last week, and he said, “What we are letting go of is our parental role of being their constant protector.  My daughter was sick when I took her to college, and it was hard for me to leave because I just wanted to stay there and take care of her.  But now she is taking care of herself and that role for me has ended, for the most part.  Now it’s time for something else.”  An elderly woman chimed in, “when one door closes, another door always opens.” 

My teacher’s open sharing of her sadness touched my heart.  She said that during the past few weeks the sorrow of letting go had continued to surface for her, but she pushed it down repeatedly to appear strong for her husband and children.  She said that the feelings were there, and the tears would rise up to her throat but she would push them back down into the area of her heart and chest, which made her literally sick.  Now she is letting it out and modeling that freedom for her students.  I loved that she spoke about learning to let go of the good things that come into our lives, blessings and experiences that we wish to hold onto. 

My children are still little, only 3 and 4 years of age.  So I have a long time before I have to let them spread their wings and fly away from home.  But I also have a few good things in my life that need to fly away, free.  In class today, I shed a few tears when that realization fully dawned.  I have also been holding on when I need to let go and open up to new experiences.  When my family moved last Spring, I began the process of saying goodbye to some well-loved and familiar faces and places.  I had to let go of the wonderful preschool where my eldest son was nurtured for two years.  Now he will start a new school.  Letting go of the local column I wrote when I moved to a new town was a sort of personal loss that I mourned.  These are two of many examples. 

Letting go of good relationships that either disappear entirely or take on a new dynamic; this is the particular challenge my yoga teacher is facing with her college-aged son.  I am also facing that challenge with a very special person who was in my life for nearly a year.  He is a teacher and coach that I met when I was writing my former column.  I interviewed him in connection with some exciting work he was doing.  I was so impressed with him that I decided to sign on as one of his clients.  He is a stress relief coach, and as a Mom of toddlers, I was feeling a little stressed.  Little did I know that not only would he help me with my job as a Mom, but he would also help me rediscover my purpose outside of motherhood, and ultimately connect me with my higher self and spirituality in a way that would open me up to a world of new experiences.  I truly cherished the connection I had with him, to the point that I dreaded losing it.  When it came time for the relationship to end, I signed on for more coaching.   I did this because I was afraid of letting go of something good.  I was not sure what other sorts of people and experiences would come into my life to fill the void.  Like my yoga teacher, when I felt sad about letting go of that relationship, I pushed the sadness back down.  I still haven’t fully let go of the wonderful teacher/student dynamic I had with him, even though I know it is time for me to spread my wings. 

Already, I have amazing new people and experiences at my very doorstep.  It is time for me to let them in.  I am in a new church environment in my new hometown, with a wonderful pastor and congregation.  I am happy to be actively involved in the church organization with my husband.  My pastor is an invaluable teacher and source of support.  My interfaith seminary program begins this fall, and I can’t contain my excitement about interacting with the other students and teachers traveling this path with me.  Even my yoga class with such a gifted teacher is relatively new for me.  I had to stop attending my regular number of classes at my old studio in order to allow this new one to come into my life.  My favorite yoga teacher at my old studio: don’t even get me started on her!  There is no way I am letting her go anytime soon.  I drive out of my way half an hour to maintain that connection, even though I have fantastic yoga options where I live now!  With some things, it’s “never say die.” 

Putting our focus on the new good makes it easier to release the old good.  Hope and optimism help us persevere in the face of change.  That spoonful of new beginnings helps us swallow the bitter pill of saying goodbye.  One thought occurred to me after class today: the word “goodbye” contains the word “good”!  There must be a good reason for that. 

Sin, Suffering, Satan and Samsara

My church pastor has a copy of the book, Living Buddha, Living Christ on his desk.  My father recommended that book to me in 1995 when it came out.  I have a copy by my bedside.  In attending a Christian church regularly for the first time in many years, I am working with my cultural tradition in the context of my blended spiritual practice.  

One of my yoga teachers, Cara Sax, has been talking to her students about the yama and the niyama in the Yoga Sutras.  The yama and the niyama are the “do’s” and “don’ts” of the yogic path.  Yama means “abstinence” and niyama means “observance.”  To me these teachings are very similar to the Ten Commandments in the Bible.  From the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, as translated and presented by Sri Swami Satchidananda, Sutra 30 reads: “Yama consists of non-violence, truthfulness, non-stealing, continence, and non-greed.” Sutra 32: “Niyama consists of purity, contentment, accepting but not causing pain, study of spiritual books and worship of God [self-surrender].”

I am grateful beyond measure for the wonderful teachers God is bringing into my path, from traditions that are rich and varied.  I have tried to explain to Christians how my practice is not so much about the worship of various deities.  It is more about devotion to God and dedication to uncovering spiritual truth and applying it in my life.  It is more about having faith that through practice, God may lead me into more wisdom.  Most of all, it is about getting closer to God and allowing more love and compassion into my life, so that I may share it with myself, my family and the world. 

I have never felt that learning about the Buddha and his teachings was a betrayal of Christ.  If anything, I feel that I can come closer to seeing Jesus in this way.  Particularly with the practice of yoga, I feel that worshipping God and organically integrating God’s spiritual laws into my life becomes easier.  Attending church and reading the Bible is wonderful; singing God’s praises in church is beautiful; practicing yoga is another form of worship and spiritual communion that can only enhance my beliefs.

When I hear about “sin” and “Hell” and “Satan”, I immediately think of what Buddhists and yogis speak of simply as “suffering.”  I think more specifically about avidya which translates as “ignorance,” and samsara which is the cycle of birth and death in which we are trapped without spiritual enlightenment.  All of these are words, and in the realm of Spirit, words are not only unnecessary; words simply fail.  I may prefer to use the words “suffering” and “ignorance” rather than sin or Hell.  Others may prefer the cultural concept of sin and they may want to personify the causes of suffering into a spiritual being they call “Satan.”  I cannot ever say with certainty that they are wrong.  In the same vein, I may prefer the word “enlightenment” while someone else likes to refer to “salvation.”  “Heaven” is a lovely word, but I like the word “Nirvana”; is it because it is more exotic?  I think it is because Heaven is such a culturally loaded concept that it has lost meaning for me. 

This sort of discussion tends to fire up a lot of Christians, and also many other people who are committed to the doctrine of one specific tradition.  They may say, “Salvation is a distinct concept and it needs to be embraced as such,” or they may say, “If you don’t believe in Satan he has you trapped.” Others may say, “Nirvana is nothing like Heaven.  They are entirely separate spiritual concepts.” Everyone is right, because these are words attached to ideas, born of cultures and traditions and written about by human beings.  And all of us, within this culture, are a bit like the blind leading the blind because our specific culture is so far removed from the ancient traditions we are attempting to follow. This is why I am committed to finding the commonality in all of these beautiful traditions and adhering to the universal, simple truths that each contain.  This is what we as humans are being called to do now, on this Earth, to bring salvation to ourselves and to our planet.

Here is what I am finding, personally: God is love. We call God by many names, but the name of God is sacred and hidden.  God takes away our suffering. God also allows us to learn through suffering.  God within us makes compassion possible.  We each have God within us.  God never leaves us.  God is always present: omnipresent, omnipotent, and omniscient.  Jesus Christ is God made man, and come into the world to ease our suffering.  Jesus was a real incarnation of God, and his spirit remains with us. There have been and will be other incarnations because of God’s great love for us.  (This last point is my major heresy as a Christian, although I have many others). 

Because I have God within me I do not fear death, Hell, sin or Satan.  I do not feel that I have to wholly embrace any religion or doctrine, though I feel compelled to respect them all. 

I am not surprised that my path has led me to study interfaith ministry formally, and when my seminary studies begin in January, I will certainly post more here about them.  I leave you with this Judeo-Christian blessing:

May the Lord bless you and keep you.

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you,
and be gracious unto you.

May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you,
and give you peace.

~Namaste

Mirror, Mirror, Off the Wall

This week we had a freak accident in our house.  While we were out for the day, the mirror in our master bathroom fell off the wall, hitting the sink handle on its way down.  The sink was running full blast for hours, flooding the bathroom with water that drained into the basement through light fixtures in the ceiling.  Upon our return, it was quite a sight to behold: flooded bathroom, flooded playroom, buckling ceiling. 

The incredible element of this story is not the freaky domino effect of the mirror turning on the water and the water running through basement light fixtures.  That is a somewhat believable chain of events.  What's really odd is that the mirror, having hit three hard surfaces, metal and tile, and landing face down on the floor...remained unbroken.  The only damage to the mirror was a small crack in its frame.  As I waded through the bathroom and turned the mirror over, I was pleasantly surprised to find it had not shattered.  My Scottish father-in-law said our family had been spared months of therapy.  No bad luck omen for us this time around.  In fact, I think the unbroken mirror is a very good omen. 

I am a believer in synchronicity, divine intervention, signs from the spiritual realm...and many other cooky and mystical things.  Hence, I find our recent household "accident" to be a positive sign.  My slightly psychic Mom agrees with me.  A mystical friend and teacher suggested that I look into the significance of the mirror and water symbolism inherent in the event.  So here is what I came up with:

The mirror symbolizes perception.  On a large scale, the mirror points to the way we interpret external reality through the lenses of our mind and senses.  On a smaller scale, the mirror points to self-perception.  Water is one of the four universal elements (the others being fire, air and earth).  Water is formless.  When it is calm, it clearly reflects what surrounds it.  When it flows, it is a force of transformation.  Heraclitus said, "No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it's not the same river, and he's not the same man."  Cascading water is a powerful image of the flow of life, which always brings change.  

Our mirror fell face down into water flowing powerfully down, like a waterfall.  In this occurrence, I see perception in motion and the power of flow moving the formless.  What can this mean on a personal level? It made me think about identity.  Over the course of our lives, within our home life, as we age and as we grow, our identities can dramatically shift and change--and this is a beautiful thing.  Change and transformation are gifts, and we are not broken by these gifts...rather, we are enhanced.  If we trust the flow of life and move away from rigidity, we are not brittle.  We are not easily broken.  

My mother had a similarly uplifting interpretation of our household omen.  She said the mirror remaining unbroken was a message from God, symbolizing strength in the midst of what may appear chaotic on the surface. Even in the midst of change and turmoil, strength remains intact. She said that such an accident occurring within the home points to the resiliency of our family unit.  I agree.  I also feel like there is a personal message for yours truly.  It is the mirror I use most often as it is too high for my boys, and my husband shaves in the shower.  I feel like for me, the meaning is that a period of intense transformation is winding down and I will come out of it with my inner strength and beauty intact.  Might be good to remain aware of narcissism creeping into my habits, just to top things off. 

On a practical note, we like our insurance adjuster.  We're getting a check.  A contractor is lined up to fix the ceiling.  Our rug is being restored.  And we found some stronger wall anchors for that mirror.  This is it, by the way:

More Yin, please...

It’s supposed to be Yin/Yang.  I feel like my life is Yang/Yin/Yang.  There’s a whole lotta Yang with a little Yin thrown in sometimes.  Yin and Yang being abstract concepts, I’ll offer my own interpretation here.  I have always learned that Yin is the softer, more feminine, receptive and passive side of experience.  Some say it is darker.  Yang is the active, strong, masculine and productive side. 

To me, meditation feels more Yin and prayer feels more Yang.  When I pray, I talk to God, often out loud.  When I meditate (far less often these days) I am quiet and still. 

With my two young sons and my boisterous husband, I feel like I am constantly surrounded by the Yang element.  So far, I am also an aunt to boys only.  I grew up with sisters.  Fortunately one of them is pregnant with a girl!  Until I was 15, I saw my sisters part time since they have a different Mom.  When I was not at their house, I was living with my Mom.  I had my own prissy little room.  I daydreamed a lot.  I spent time by myself.  My life was more Yin than Yang.  When I was with my sisters, we were active and playful…but we were girls. 

This past weekend one of my sisters visited me (the unmarried one).  She arrived with her little white Maltese dog.  She stayed to help our family celebrate my son’s third birthday and Father’s Day.  With all of the Yang that surrounds me, I was very grateful to have that extra Yin thrown into the mix! Interspersed with the excited squeals of boys running up and down the house and yard, the excitement of a kid’s party, the presence of my two year old nephews—I got to enjoy talking with my sister about hair, clothes, shoes, men from a woman’s perspective, memories of our teen years and the crushes we had then…it seemed magical.  We did yoga in the living room, oblivious to the shouts of my sons.  We sat on a blanket outside drinking rosé and listening to women folk artists sing about love.  Some of that may sound active to you, but to me it was blissfully Yin. 

This week I am back to my familiar Yang fest.  Just today, I took my boys out for lunch at the local diner.  It wasn’t much of a lunch for me.  Just after we sat down, my youngest asked me in a loud, screechy voice, “Mommy, do you have a tiny penis?” Of course my other son found that riotously funny and laughed his new hearty, guttural laugh that he uses to impress his friends.  The remainder of the lunch I heard a number of loud penis jokes and was repeatedly asked why I do not have a penis and told that I must have a very tiny one.  Of course, the table was a drum and when they weren’t talking about genitalia they were banging on the table with the toy cars they brought inside.  When I took those away, they used their forks.  When I took those away… you get the picture. 

I know they love me, these males who share my home.  They can be sweet.  The little ones are affectionate.  But all three of them are loud.  Their humor doesn’t always suit me.  And while 90% of the time it’s funny to see them running circles around my bed with my underwear on their heads and dragging my sundress behind them—10% of the time I really wish they had vaginas.  Then in a few years we could really share the dresses…but probably not the underwear. 

I’d like more Yin, please.  

Team Jesus: My Kind of Sangha

The name of this blog, Meta Vie, means “a life in transformation.”  Used as a prefix, “meta” means change or transformation, hence the word, “metamorphosis.”  Vie is, of course, the French word for life.  When I originally named the blog I liked the more current definition of meta: self-referential.  By blogging, I am engaging in a writing process that is nothing more than the written reference of my own ongoing transformation. 

Writing is an amazing tool for growth; we can record and track our progress along life’s journey.  My grandparents kept written journals, some of which I have shared here.  This is my electronic journal.  As I look back at entries from 2009, I am entertained and inspired by the changes that have taken place within me since that time.  I am sometimes equally amused when I see entries from just a few months ago. 

I wrote a post last September about reconciling my Christianity with my other spiritual inclinations and practices.  It was called, “My Nebulous Spirituality.” http://meta-vie.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-nebulous-spirituality.html  I was moved to write it after getting embroiled in an argument about Christians and the supposed bad rap they get—and about what it means to be a Christian.  I found myself disclaiming Christianity as a cultural label and at a real loss for what to call myself and my path.  I never disclaimed that Jesus Christ is my master.  I simply wanted some distance between myself and the common modern portrait of a Christian.  I am rethinking that now. 

Spiritual practice on one’s own is a good thing.  Spiritual practice within a community is even better.  After many years of going it alone, I have decided that I need the support of other believers… and I need it consistently.   

Since moving to a new town with my family, I have been regularly attending services at the Lutheran church down the street from us.  I have found great comfort in participating in the rituals I was raised with: praying as a congregation, taking communion, reciting the mass, singing hymns and scripture.  Regularly seeing and talking with other people of faith brings me contentment.  In yoga and in Buddhism, practitioners use the Sanskrit words, “Sukha” and “Santosha”, which roughly translate as comfort and contentment.  Consistent spiritual practice brings us sukha and santosha.  In Buddhism, the spiritual community is referenced as the “Sangha.” In Yoga, the community is called a “Kula.”  In the US of A, we like to call it “Church” or “Temple.”

Yoga practice will always be a part of my life.  Buddhist meditation is a refuge for me, always.  Jesus is still my favorite teacher and the divine incarnation that I choose to worship.  I needed a real Sangha and I found one, within a community of other Christian believers.  This is a huge step for me.  I plan to follow it through and have volunteered to act as the church Treasurer to affirm my commitment.  As my pastor wrote to me, “Lutherans have a tendency to enter into a new church slowly and build up to greater involvement; or not. This is in rather stark contrast to the urgency expressed by Jesus in the gospel of Mark, the call to discipleship throughout the gospels, and the cost of discipleship spelled out in Matthew's gospel.”  The time has come in my life to consider what it means to believe in Jesus; if I believe, then am I also a follower?  If I am a follower, does that make me a disciple?  Within my Sangha, it does.  My Pastor continued, “The Christian vocation leads us to new areas of commitment where called.”  The Sangha asked me to serve as Treasurer.  I think that means I am called.  So… yes, Lord, send me!

I am grateful to have found a Christian Sangha and the strength of conviction to actively participate in it.  

Meeting Fear with Acceptance-Teach it to Your Child

My meditation practice and my parenting are beginning to intersect in exciting ways that I want to share.  Specifically I have been able to apply lessons I am learning about responding to negative thoughts and emotions with acceptance to alleviate my son’s bedtime fears. 

My four year old son Alec has recently been talking to me about “scary” things he sees in his mind.  Since his verbal skills have advanced, he is now able to voice his fears to me.  Since we moved into our new house, he has been talking about the “scary birds” he sees when he closes his eyes or tries to go to sleep.  The first time he talked to me about the scary birds, I asked him if they were right there in the room with us and if I could see them too.  He said, “You can’t see them, Mom.”  I replied, “Can you see the birds in your mind?”  He nodded.  I asked, “Where are they?  Are they out here or in your mind?”  He hesitated before answering, “In my mind.”  I asked what they looked like, how many of them he could see and what noises they were making.  As his imagination filled in the details of the scary birds and he was able to describe them, his fear diminished.  I then asked him to talk to the scary birds and tell them what he wanted them to do.  He said, “Get out of here!”  This worked the first time, and since then he has been asking me about the best way to deal with the scary birds when they appear. 

Last night, we had a breakthrough moment with the scary birds.  After our bedtime story, Alec said, “Mom, those scary birds are back and I can’t make them go away!”  I asked, “What do you think they want?”  He answered, “I don’t know!”  I then said, “What if you tell the scary birds that you love them? Maybe they are looking for some love and have come to you to find it.”  He replied, “I think the scary birds want me to be mean to them.  If I am mean that will make them go away.” So I told him to try that next and see what happened.  He yelled and thrashed in his covers and then told me the birds were still there.  I said, “So if being mean isn’t working, see what happens if you talk nicely to the birds.”  After a few seconds, he said, “I love you, birds! I love you.”  Then he giggled and said, “Oh, they went away! How did you know that, Mom, that the scary birds wanted me to say that?”

We have a Chinese Buddha statue in our house that belonged to my husband’s grandparents who lived in China.  Alec particularly likes the statue and the image of Buddha.  So when he asked me how I knew to greet the scary birds with love, I told him to think of Buddha.  I asked, “Do you know what Buddha teaches us to do?” “No, Mom,” Alec replied.  “Well, Buddha helps us to understand and work with our mind so we can be happy and free.  Remember how you said the birds live in your mind?” “Yes,” he answered. I explained, “Buddha teaches that if you fight against the ugly and scary things in your mind, you will make them stay longer.  But if you are calm and loving to those things, like the scary birds, they will go away on their own.  Like just now, when you told the birds you loved them and you waited, they went away, right? Are the birds still there?”  Alec waited a moment before saying, “No.  I don’t see them now.” 

I was happier than usual when I left the room after Alec fell asleep.  I don’t know if he understood everything I tried to convey, but I do know that he is starting to learn about acceptance vs. resistance, something I have only begun to explore in recent years.  My children are my teachers and provide an inexhaustible supply of motivation for my continued spiritual growth.  

2011: The New Now

Opening the yoga class I attended today, our teacher Elizabeth Cooke asked if any of us had New Year’s resolutions. A silent class of yogis stared back at Elizabeth; not a single hand was raised. She seemed pleasantly surprised. I smiled as I listened to her describe our tendency to “lean into the future” at the beginning of every new year, promising to lose weight, save more money, or find one more way to improve ourselves or our lives. Lately I have been thinking a lot about acceptance and presence and where those words are pointing me. I agree with Elizabeth that those wonderful intentions we have to make new things happen this time of year can pull us away from what is. As she put it, we are here now and we are fully embodied. We have everything we need to be in the present moment.


What if the present moment is unpleasant? Does that mean we need to change it? How do we react to unpleasant circumstances and sensations? Elizabeth said, “This moment might be really crappy for you. And you may just have to be OK with feeling crappy for a while. How hard is that?” It is hard. But it is part of this experience we are having as spiritual beings in human bodies. Many of us fervently strive to avoid pain and to eliminate all suffering from our lives. How does it feel to strive that way? Does it work? Are we getting everything that we want? Is it harder to accept suffering when it comes, or to strive away from suffering?

Each moment brings a new experience, a new sensation. Naturally we love the sweeter and easier sensations. When it is time to enjoy a delicious meal, a beautiful day, making love, watching the sun set or listening to a symphony, we readily accept the experience. And we are thankful that these pleasures grace our lives. When we are in the midst of an illness, an ice storm, the loss of a loved one or a time of financial constraint, what do we do? What “should” we do? Personally, I used to pull away. Often I still do. When I am starting to get sick, I swallow Chinese herbs and vitamins, I drink a lot of tea and I try to “fight it off.” Usually I get sick anyway. Recently I have experimented with accepting sickness as its own unique experience. Sometimes it is an enforced break from business. Sometimes it brings vivid dreams due to more time spent in bed. Sometimes feeling crappy is wonderful because…it is still feeling! I am still in a body, alive and aware in the present moment.

When we accept what is, we cultivate patience. When we accept what is, we are not pulling away from the present moment, or suggesting that it needs to change. One of my sons is two years old. He is uninhibited. When he covers me with kisses and yells, “Mommy, I really love you!” in public, I happily accept his authentic behavior. When he throws a tantrum, screaming, kicking and writhing on the floor, I begrudgingly accept it. If he is in danger, I pick him up and move him. Otherwise, I let him cry it out. I find my two year old son to be a great spiritual teacher.

A great place to begin practicing unconditional acceptance is within our precious human body. Ironically, the sooner we accept something, the sooner it can change, if it needs to. If we truly need to lose weight, first we must accept the condition of being overweight. If we are sick and need to get better, first we must accept that our body is ill. Approaching the body with unconditional acceptance, we are better able to care for it enough to make it stronger and healthier. I have learned this through experience. In 2006 I contracted Lyme disease when I was pregnant. As a result, I developed permanent nerve damage in my seventh cranial nerve. Over the past four years I have gradually approached my body with more love. My recovery has been slow, but I can truthfully say that I love my body more than ever before. My smile looks a little different. One eye is a little smaller. I still believe that I am beautiful. My energy levels have been lower, but I have more physical strength than at any time in my life. Through yoga, I have learned to nurture my body. Through this nurturance, I have gained strength. Through illness, I have learned to feel well.

Through approaching all experience with acceptance, we live life more fully. Instead of leaning toward the future or leaning away from the past, we fully inhabit the now. I have nothing to say about 2011, other than: here it is, and let it be.