Author: nicole.cromer108@gmail.com

The word, Psychology, by way of linguistic roots, literally means – the study of the soul. I remember learning this when I was just beginning to understand and explore what my path and life’s work might be. The study of the soul. The breath of the spirit. The manifestation of the sacred. Yup. Sign me up.

Before I had acquired any clinical training or the associated jargon, I recall feeling very strongly that I wanted to put my energy into “seeing” people, and through that process help them to heal. It seems that rather than living from places of authenticity, we more often choose to glamorize false presentations of self. Sometimes we can have a tendency to overvalue a sort of polished, Teflon-ish, professional-demeanor type coating that serves as a super-filter blocking out as much humanness as we can mange. Never let them see you cry. Never let them see you sweat. Fake it till you make it. Beauty before comfort. Dress to impress. So on. And so forth. It’s become our collective mantra. Don’t be seen.

 But, as the renowned psychiatrist Harry Stack Sullivan famously said, “We are all much more simply human than otherwise.” And this was the fundamental truth that I wanted to dedicate my life to honoring. And so I began on the journey of applying to schools, and going to schools, and working at hospitals, institutions and schools. All with the intention of celebrating, finding and creating meaning in other people’s lives – and in my own. But somehow, as life will do, the pressures of finding employment and the desire for various forms of security began to obscure my initial intentions. The once primary drive to hold recognition of spiritual and emotional experience as paramount became obscured by other needs. I compartmentalized. I practiced my clinical demeanor and pushed my emotional and spiritual aspects further and further out of even my own view, to contend. And I did – I contended. But at what cost? How was I living? Who was I becoming? And what did it really mean to contend, anyway?

This feels like a good time to mention that I do very strongly believe that boundaries are important and essential. Much of my work as a therapist has included focusing on the establishment and strengthening of healthy personal boundaries. For that matter -much of my work as a person has included focusing on the establishment and strengthening of healthy personal values. So believe me, I get it. It’s not easy. What we must do is seek balance. This sounds right. We know this in our hearts. But how? How do we encourage ourselves to not only find strength within the true core of ourselves – but to allow the vulnerability that is part and parcel to exposing that real center? How do we allow the light within to shine out – and ah yes- then also of course – allow the light without to shine in. How do we allow movement and connection between all of those compartments? How do we truly become open and un-broken? Steadfast and free?

Here’s what we do. The simple, magical, hardest, easiest thing. We become real by remembering that we have always been so. We recognize that within our glossy and manicured or edgy and intimidating physical constructions – we are beautiful and infinite. We are spirit and intellect and emotion. We are amazing, full entities. We are tremendously, ecstatically and intensely – real. Every beautiful soul you get to see throughout your day, is real. Your spouse or partner, your children, your friends. All full and whole beings with the capacity to experience deep crushing sadness, and heart exploding joy. Your boss, the person next to you on the bus, that other driver that just cut you off. All beautiful, full, complete souls. All on their own journeys, learning and offering different lessons – but all beautiful and real nonetheless.

Decide to see them. Really see them. And if you dare – decide also to be seen.

 

Here’s a guided meditation that might help to bring this all a bit closer.

Start by sitting or lying down in a comfortable and relaxed position. Place your hands, one over the other, on top of your heart center. Notice the way your hands feel your heart underneath them. Notice the way your chest feels the gentle pressure of your hands on top of it. Breathe. Take a deep, slow breath in – and release. Again – in. And out. Imagine you are sitting in the middle of a circular clearing (about the size of a small room) which is in the center of a beautiful dense forest. Notice what kind of trees you see. How tall are they? What time of year is it? What time of day? What is the ground like that you are sitting on? Is it dirt? Grass? Pine needles? Feel the texture of the ground with your hands. Take a moment to enjoy this opportunity to be here – and take another deep breath in. As you release it – recognize that you feel completely safe and secure. Take a moment to close your physical eyes – and see your soul’s eyes closing as well. Sit for a moment, feeling, hearing, smelling, tasting. What do you notice? When you are ready – open your soul’s eyes while your physical eyes remain closed. As you do this – see your younger self (maybe age 6 or 7) come out from the woods. See him or her walk over to you and sit down facing you. What do you see? What does your child-self have to tell you? What is he or she reminding you of, that you have forgotten? Listen. Feel. Breathe. When you are ready – say goodbye and acknowledge that you can meet here any time you want to. Take a very slow deep breath in, and as you slowly release it, softly lower the top hand down from your chest, to your side or into your lap. As you do this, feel yourself releasing an out layer of obstruction. Take another breath in the same way – releasing the other hand – and another layer – as you breathe out. Notice how light you feel. Notice how bright you shine. Notice that your healthy personal boundaries are still intact – and actually strengthened by this release. You are safe. You are beautiful. You are real. Come back when you are ready.

 

 

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.

-William Blake

 

With the arrival of 2018, I went ahead and made a resolution. I promised myself that I would make a concerted effort to reduce my screen-time. I have noticed a not so subtle regression in myself during the past few weeks (possibly months – ok, definitely months) away from the joys of the natural world and towards the numbing and eerily addictive realm of digital information and high definition. I say this sitting with my laptop open, next to my iphone – in front of my desktop. Is it any wonder I feel a bleary-eyed mix of wired and exhausted, hungry and full? No. Truly, not.

I, therefore, decided to take a second to close my eyes and really check in with myself. What do I notice? What do I feel? What do I need? And ugh – it’s not pleasant. I feel sad, lonely, disconnected. Ugh. My first urge is to ignore it. “Well – that’s awful – stop focusing on it.” But it won’t go away no matter how many times I refresh my FaceBook feed – believe me I’ve tried. And as I think my way through this dilemma – laughing at my next thought to try and find an app that will help me cut down on my digital dosing (they do actually exist) – I reassure myself. This will pass. And so, like the advice given for practicing meditation, I will notice where I have gone astray, and return.

I recall the observation offered by my brother-in-law-to-be this past weekend as my family and I walked out to our car after a family gathering. “Wow – look at the stars,” he said. Reluctantly, I took a moment to linger in the (literally) freezing night – very much aware of the stinging cold against my face – and looked up. And now as I write this – just with the memory of what I saw and felt, I can feel that tangled bundle of yearning and angst within myself thaw just a bit. Just enough to let in awareness of a feeling of awe, connection, happiness. It was a beautifully clear night, in a place enough removed from the heavy light pollution of the city. The stars were beautiful and full and bright and magnificent – as they always are – and at that moment the conditions were right, and (with a little help) my intention was set at just the right time to experience blissful connection with all of the beauty and life that exists around me. A brilliant access point to the ineffable. Always there. Always available. And always within me – the power to choose to connect.

On one level I know that the cold of winter has had an impact. I have turned in to keep warm and safe and comfortable. And perhaps I overshot it, and disconnected. And then as the ache of isolation became evident, I turned mindlessly to ineffective remedies – seeking consolation rather than nourishment. Distraction rather than restoration. That’s ok. I can change that. I can attend to my discomforts long enough to address them. I can withstand some pain long enough to do what must be done to heal.

I can be open to the gentle guidance of others, pulling me softly to notice and celebrate the beauty around me. I am so grateful for the thoughtful presence of others, and the ways in which that presence and awareness can create a holding space, and within that space a sacred connection to the magic of all existence. Because there are times when I need the nudge. We all do.

Another memory comes to mind; Years ago, at my wedding reception one of my fabulous new sisters in law (in-laws are fabulous, no?) brought me outside for just a moment. “Look,” she said, “This is the moon on your wedding night.” And what a breathtaking moon it was. A waxing crescent moon – still fairly new within the cycle – but fantastically vibrant, as I recall. What a precious gift this brief call to attention was, because if not for her, I would have missed it. What profound wisdom these little moments of redirection provide. And what simple work – to just see. And then effortlessly my soul takes over. Just be. Just enjoy.

 

Winter blessings to you all.

 

Today is the Winter Solstice. It is the shortest day of the year (and thus the longest night) and it marks the beautiful and sacred transition from darkness into light. We are now ending the journey of shortening days and beginning the journey back towards the longest day and shortest night (Summer Solstice). And although we are at a literal pinnacle of darkness, celebrations of light are all around us – because we know that being at that summit means that light is returning. The celebration of the miracle of lights known as Hanukkah has just ended, and Christmas approaches to help us celebrate the birth of “the light of the world.” A new calendar year will be beginning as well.

Wherever you look, there are celebrations of renewal, activation and initiation. And each of these, we hold with honor and respect – cradled in the warmth and fire of our hearts, and steadied by the clarity and intention of our minds. We are at the threshold. We are bearing witness to and participating in a sacred moment of transition and transformation – and if we allow ourselves to settle at the powerful crux of release and connection – we can find “it.”

But what is that crux? What does it mean? What does it feel like? What is that “it?” What is that stirring within each us that whispers from an ancient core – “Connect.” “Breathe.” “See.” “Be.”

There are many ways in which I might try (and have tried) to answer these questions for myself – and as I have said to many of my patients within the contexts of numerous questions – I dare not attempt the injustice of answering that for you. What I will dare, however, is to ask these questions alongside you. We can journey together. And so – if I may – let me invite you to ask some questions. Let’s work together to carve a holding space out of that broader unknowing – and let’s pause there to be open to receiving answers. Lets remember that gentle guidance to summon wisdom – within that sacred holding space – “Speak. I’m listening.”

There are innumerable ways to connect to the universal truths available to us when we seek them. There are so many languages, access points, theories and even holidays that we can use to understand what it means to connect to that sacred “thing” that exists at the center.

I have recently been reminded of the simple yet deeply profound ways in which breath can serve as such an access point. More specifically – that still, yet abundantly full moment in between breaths. So beautifully and literally – right within our heart center – an access point to an uncontainable liminal space.

And so perhaps we can consider these celebrations of light to be more fully – celebrations of the dance and movement between light and dark. Celebrations of those liminal or in-between spaces – where the magic lives. I like to think of images of the shoreline as a way of illustrating these in-between spaces where connections occur. Think of that beautiful space on a beach (visible at low tide) that exits under water at high tide – but that is revealed filled with a wealth of new treasures when the tide is out. Think of that frozen moment of progressive movement when you throw a ball into the air and it slows to a brief (yet infinite) pause before gravity pulls it back to earth – fostering flow, ensuring completion.

Think of that space in between breaths. Here are our access points.

And of course – then more questions, right? What are we accessing? The divine? Ourselves? Our personal and collective unconscious(es)? Are these different?

Psychoanalytic theorists have written about the experiences of transcendence that become available in the liminal space between conscious and unconscious, me and you, matter and spirit, etc. They have used terms like; transcendent function and the Other Voice, the analytic third, etc. to identify that moment – that space – when and where insights are accessed and integration and actualization of the self become possible.

I could easily get pulled (more fully) into a wordy tangent of intellectualized notions – (I do love this stuff) – but I will take a breath and work to remember the tools that I have – that we have – to live more fully – and with deeper awareness of the complete freedom, wholeness, and magical joy that is available to each and every one of us.

And so – Solstice Greetings, dear friends.

 

May the blessing of light be upon you,                                                                              Light without and Light within

(Celtic blessing)

Please note that in keeping with this idea of using tools to access liminal space for healing and learning – I am now offering a Tarot Assisted Therapy Service.

Please see the Services section of the website for additional details.

The quieter you become, the more you can hear.   – Ram Dass

In the world of psychotherapy – silence – as it occurs within the therapeutic space, as well as in general, is an incredibly important topic. (And amusingly enough, it is also spoken about – relentlessly). It is the oceanic and all embracing backdrop to every moment of our lives. It can be filled, rejected, easily ignored, but at the very moment you cease to disrupt it, it will still be there, holding you.

The proverbial “blank screen” of silence offers itself to us as a beautiful, pure and pristine mental mirror. Like the space of dreams, it shows us what we hide from ourselves. In it, we can be so abruptly introduced to our own thoughts and feelings that we might misunderstand them, or disavow them so intensely that we become convinced that they are actually not our own. We might think that they come to us from outside sources. Simple, classic – projection.

If we can be brave enough to move past this stage of fear and denial and projection – then we can allow ourselves the freedom to take another step down into the depths of our being, and feel held by that silence rather than smothered. And within that warmth – we can welcome healing.

Within that nurturance, though, I must admit that I begin to feel this little nudge of knowing – calling my attention to the fact that more than just reflection occurs within that sacred silence. There is also listening. And when you can truly hear – there is awareness of connection. But to what?  My best answer is – to everything.

I remember the first time someone described to me the concept of the collective unconscious. I was in high school at the time, and a family friend who was staying with us offered this analogy. “It’s like mushrooms” he said. “The largest living organism in the world is actually a fungus – and although when you look at it, it would seem to be a collection of many distinct individual mushrooms, under the soil they are all connected. It is actually all one ‘being’ – and the separation that appears to be obvious  – is actually an illusion.” He went on – “the collective unconscious is like that. We cannot easily see that we are all the same, because we are focusing on the appearance of separateness.”

What might happen if we dare to shift our focus?

This past year, I took it upon myself to accept the “Sit Spot Challenge,” as offered via FaceBook by my friend Lynn Trotta, of the SageFire Institute. The goal was to find a place to sit in nature, and to quietly – just be present. And so, for 30 magical days (with increasing lengths of sitting), I sat. And I recalled the advice of one of my college professors – “when you are struggling to meditate – just say to yourself – Speak. I’m listening.” And so I listened, and I breathed, and I watched. I smelled the air and felt the earth. I tasted the rain and the air. And I felt the imagined walls of my separateness slip away. Even if just for brief, fleeting moments – they slipped away. And I knew.

But then – another nudge.  More questions. How then, do I view another person as separate if I sense the unity of life? How do I see myself in another, and another in myself, and at the same keep myself from devolving into obscuring their uniqueness with my own projections? If the other is myself  (you know what I mean, right?) – is there any way to truly speak to another human, and to not have it be simply a conversation with my own thoughts, assumptions and judgments?  I think, yes. But, man – this is not going be easy. I think the trick is to balance conversation with communion. I guess that might look something like a lonely little mushroom saying “hey – that other mushroom all the way over there – we really are one in the same – but just because of where he is – he can see things I can’t see.” And then suddenly it becomes possible to recognize that “oneness,” and to at the same time value and experience the unique gifts and perspectives of others. The suffering and joys of our fellow humans and all other forms of life starts to look different. Compassion starts to look different. Generosity starts to look different. Envy, superiority, failure, success – all different. It becomes impossible to not be changed.

And so I offer all of these words to you as a way of inviting you to consider maybe sometimes exchanging idle conversation for true connection – as a way of inviting you to welcome silence as a frame for meaningful relationship, instead of as evidence of failure to find the right words to say. If you find yourself wishing you or the other person/people would just say something. Perhaps consider –” What is there to be said?”

What we plant in the soil of contemplation, we shall reap in the harvest of action.    – Meister Eckhart

 

Prior to working in private practice I have had the opportunity to work in numerous psychiatric settings. I have worked on psychiatric units in general hospitals as well as in psychiatric hospitals. I have held positions as a mental health worker (a job very similar to that of a nurse’s aide), as a trainee at various levels, and as a licensed psychologist. I have been very proud to say that I have worked in private, city, and state hospital settings, and that I started out making beds and worked my way up to being a primary clinician creating treatment plans and providing treatment to patients.

I have had the tremendous opportunity to work with and learn from some very highly esteemed and intelligent doctors and from some incredibly insightful and courageous patients. Often the patients blessed with insight, and those graced with courage, were not the same. But they all had their lessons to teach nonetheless.

I often think about one particular woman who was a patient in a state psychiatric facility. And while I have had the opportunity to work with patients for months on end in this kind of setting, this is a woman that I only saw very briefly in the hallway. She was walking with a few other people in what seemed very clearly to be a small group of patients that was on pass to do an activity in another part of the hospital. This meant that they had the very rare opportunity to leave the locked ward that they spent most of their time in. What struck me about her was her appearance – her hair and her make-up. She had created a strikingly bizarre look – and it was undeniably meticulous. It looked as though she had probably spent hours getting ready for her outing. I recall my heart breaking and melting at the same time, because while her struggle to function at a “normal” level was quite evident – I can guarantee you that her’s was the happiest face I had seen that day.

What a gift of perspective. I remember thinking that the business of being a human being is so challenging as it is, but to have to do that while at the same time contending with severe mental illness, just seems profoundly unfair and unbearable.

In each of my hospital positions I worked with medical doctors (internists, psychiatrists, etc.) and I remember a conversation with a medical intern who told me about the medical model of teaching that is “see one, do one, teach one.” She was describing this in reference to learning how to do intubations – which is a procedure wherein a tube is inserted into the trachea to maintain an open airway. (Talk about unfair and unbearable – I think both for the patient and the doctor- but this is how lives are saved and why I did not go to medical school – but I digress).

While there is a definite horror that accompanies the thought of doing a medical procedure after watching it performed only once – I have to admit I love the idea of this method – and I do think it serves us better when the demand of speed is removed. “See. Do. Teach.” has a much better ring to it, don’t you think? And it so clearly applies to so much more than intubation and other surgical procedures.

For example – I began this blog as a way of working through and offering some ideas about combining different traditions of healing, but I must admit that I do feel overwhelmed at times by how much I don’t know. In these moments (when I have my wits and courage about me) l am reminded of my tendency to feel as though I must have all of the information and everything figured out before I may proceed to the space of action. I forget that so much learning happens in the space of action, and that so much learning happens in the space of teaching. So the approach of trying to have everything figured out before you do anything doesn’t work. It can’t work because you can never have as much information thinking about a thing – as you would have if you actually did the thing . Think about riding a bike. We can’t possibly acquire the skill by merely thinking it through.  You must try, fail, adjust and repeat – before your body gets it right. But once you get it, you’ve got it. There’s no going back.

And once the skill is learned – then you can teach it – by showing and describing. Beautiful circle of completion.

See, do, teach.

Intend, manifest, share.

Let me begin today by asking a question:

Think for a moment about the word sacrifice. As you begin to focus on it, notice your emotional reaction, and notice your thoughts. How do you feel about the word? How do you define the word? And so then the question:   What does sacrifice mean to you?

Most people tend to think of sacrifice as “noble suffering” – something unpleasant or painful that’s “worth it.” Giving up one thing for another. We also think of it as the thing that happens when you work really hard to obtain a goal. These are valid and good definitions – but I’d like to offer us the challenge of thinking about it differently. If we dare – lets move away from the dominating idea of sacrifice as suffering and pain, and open ourselves up to fuller meaning.

The word sacrifice is derived from the Latin word sacrificium – which in direct translation means, “to make sacred.” Well, I’m already feeling a little differently about this – aren’t you? Now, before we start down the path of evoking bloody images of “ritualized sacrifice” in its many and far-reaching forms, and begin to turn away and back to the notion of suffering, suffering, suffering – let’s slow it down and take a better look.

The spiritual practice of making offerings in the form of grains, wine, honey, money, animal sacrifice, and in some cases even human sacrifice – have stood as paramount in numerous and various cultures and traditions. But why? Why have we – across lands and ages – defaulted to giving things up as showings of devotion. I think it is because we humans are always seeking ways to involve ourselves in a sacred exchange. We need a sense of meaning and we need to experience connection.

The idea of exchange feels very important to me here – because it can take on many faces. Are we guided by fear or love? Selfishness or service? Are we offering gifts in expectation of receiving gifts? Are we engaging in a purely transactional process of trying to buy good favor, or are we trying to participate in a relationship rooted in love and cooperation. Depending upon the answer, the same actions can have very different intentions behind them. And so, when we boil our actions down to their basic parts or intentions, we can ask: What am I doing? Am I saying, “My energy right now is in service of you?” Or “My energy right now is in service of me?” Am I giving this gift because I want something? Am I giving because I feel I am obligated to do so? Do I experience my actions, therefore, as forced suffering? Or, am I giving this gift because I want to.

Let’s take the example of giving up your seat on a crowded train. If I am sitting and I see someone struggling to stand, I have a choice. I can give a gift. And so, do I get up and offer the seat thinking everyone will admire my action? Do I get up and offer the seat because I don’t want to be judged for not doing it? Or do I offer my seat because I know I can make a difference in someone’s experience – and I want to. And guess what? I can actually enjoy that too. A sacrifice? Yes. Suffering? No way.

See – there’s the tricky part. I do get something when I give from my heart. I get happiness and joy, and I get to share in the delight of the other person enjoying what I have to give. A hand outstretched in offering looks exactly the same as a hand stretched out to receive. Look at the picture attached to this post – and try a little exercise: See the hand as giving. See it as receiving. See it as receiving through the act of giving.

Here again, my friends, the simple magic of perspective and intention. But what a profound result. The giving and the receiving can be the same thing.

 

And I will add this – As we begin to grasp the ways in which we are all connected to all things in the magical network of existence,  the idea of this combined experience becomes so much more clear. It becomes clear that others gain nothing by my suffering for the sake of suffering. In fact they lose. And that when I give out – I accept in. Because it’s all the same. And so, sacrifice, in its best form, looks a lot more like rearranging the furniture – than burning it all to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

 

I remember one of my graduate professors describing the process of therapeutic work as being very similar to taking a hike through the woods. There will be times, he said, when you enter into darker areas, dense with trees. Places where it will be wisest to look where you are placing your feet instead of ahead. Places where you might need to help yourself along by holding onto your surroundings with your hands – where, as such, you’ll be drawn to notice the details – the leaves, the grounding scent of wet earth, the textures of the life around you. And then there will be times when you find elevated clearings. Where the sun will be bright and full and you can see the landscape around you. Places where things are clear and you can’t help but see the big picture.

I have always loved this analogy, and have shared it often with my patients when the work hits it’s moments of pain and difficulty. I have remembered it myself when dark and sadder times have seemed to occlude the light. And I hold it not only as a beautiful way of describing the fluctuating challenges of therapeutic process – (or more simply, life) – but also as a reminder of the great importance of recognizing and appreciating the existence of both the whole and its parts and the magnificent interplays between and among them. Because – while we are often warned not to miss the forest for the trees – there would be no forest without them.

One of the challenges here is holding onto awareness of the whole while examining the parts, and onto awareness of the parts while experiencing the whole. And then there’s the challenge of allowing yourself to be comfortable in the limits of your beautiful human mind and its finite capacity for perception.

As many ancient traditions have recognized – truth is held in the parts as well as in the whole. And so our task is then to balance the holding on and the letting go. You cannot see the parts and the whole at the same time, and so you must hold onto one while letting the other go, all the while maintaining the awareness that both are always there. Let me try and explain what I mean.

I recall a very brief moment when I was a child of about 2 or 3. I was in the kitchen with my mother who stood at the counter – making sandwiches, I think. I was only tall enough to be eye level with the top shelf of our refrigerator, and so I remember standing there with the task of getting the mayonnaise. “We don’t have any,” I remember thinking. “It’s right there,” I can hear her saying. And then I remember seeing her standing next to me, reaching her hand into the refrigerator. To my great horror and astonishment her hand moved to the space directly in front of my eyes where it had been sitting all along. And so here, dear reader, I now offer you a glimpse into my (then merely blossoming) neuroses – because I recall feeling terrified that there was something horribly wrong with me. There it was – right in front of me – but I had missed it. I now know, of course, that my oversight in this type of situation was not uncommon, but it never really feels good, does it?

But in that one moment I was offered many lessons. Just because you don’t see something does not mean it is not there – and this can be true of anything – magic, meaning, even mayonnaise. Sometimes you don’t see things because you are looking too hard. And sometimes – you can miss the trees for the forest… But it’s okay, it’s all there.

And so what guidance or wisdom can I try and offer you here? I’ll share what I turn to myself – breathe. Just breathe.

Breathe in deeply and feel your connection to, and capacity to hold the element of air. Feel it fill your lungs and charge you. Connect. Release.

Breathe in and allow yourself to feel your connection to the element of earth. Feel the strength of your muscles and the grounding structure of your bones. Connect. Release.

Breathe in again, and allow yourself to feel your connection to the element of fire. Acknowledge the spark of life within you – the passions and drive – the power of your spirit. Connect. Release.

Breathe in – and this time – allow yourself to become aware of your body’s connection to water. Feel the blood flowing and its beautiful rush of life. Connect. Release.

You are within life, and life is within you. However you look at it (or don’t), its all there.

 

 

 

You’ve always had the power, my dear. You’ve had it all along.

– Glinda, the Good Witch, Wizard of Oz

 

Did you know that you have the power to change the world? Did you know that you do just that,  every day.

There are brief moments when I am completely absorbed in it – that I notice the absolute absurdity of consumerism and the myth of the need for convenience. The other day, I was waiting on line to purchase groceries at my local supermarket, when that delightful little cooler of cold beverages just waiting there for me to notice it, grabbed my attention. My thoughts went something like this: “ooh cold drinks. Yes, I am thirsty. I think a diet soda would be really nice right now (yes, dear reader, I know, please don’t judge). But how much is it? $2.00!? mmm- yeah ok- that’s a lot but I am really thirsty.” So I made my selection and very happily waited to pay for this ever so important impulse buy. And then I got to thinking. Isn’t that funny how I had considered buying a 2-liter bottle of that same soda in the beverage isle, but it was priced at $1.75. Well that’s ridiculous! Especially when all those other sodas I don’t want are only $0.99. Outrage! I will not purchase this horribly overpriced item – but put it in pretty little cooler and I’ll pay more for quite a bit less. Why? Convenience. I’d be paying for the convenience. And more often than not- I’d be doing it without even taking a second to acknowledge that fact.

Somehow, we as a society have allowed  ourselves to become convinced that convenience is essential. We don’t think – “wouldn’t that be nice- but at what cost?” We think “I need that. There it is.” End of story.

Time and time again, I’ve seen people purchase small items in a “convenience” store, have them placed into a plastic bag with a paper receipt- and then step outside to use whatever item,  and toss the packaging, the receipt and the bag into the garbage pail right outside. Without even thinking.

I began noticing this after watching myself do that exact thing. And down came this great crashing double-edged sword – jolting me awake- pulling my attention to my own zombie skin. And so on one edge, the deep pain of recognizing that my repeated mindless actions had indeed had an impact. (How much space do my discarded conveniences take up in a landfill -somewhere out of sight and out of mind? How much damage had I already done)? But on the other edge of that great sword – the awareness that I was indeed powerful, and what a difference it would make if I decided to apply choice – deliberate mindful action – to this power, already in my hands. And there it is again  – the simple everyday magic of awareness and choice.

Why have we made it so much easier to destroy? Negligence has become second nature because we have forgotten ourselves. We have forgotten. And so it takes effort, and thought, and possibly some inconveniencing and discomfort to turn this around, and choose to live as though we matter. As though our neighbors, and community and planet matter. One step at a time, I can make changes. I can recycle k-cups instead of tossing them in the garbage. “But it’s so messy to pull them apart, and it takes so much time.” I’m just sharing the thoughts I have had myself. Have you had them too?

I believe in us, guys. I believe we can handle some coffee grinds on our hands. I can take an extra 30 seconds to see if my lipstick company tests on animals before I buy anything.

Here’s the terrible irony. We have been encouraged to believe that being inconvenienced wastes our valuable time and is unnecessary suffering. We’ve lost connection to the joys that come with productivity and care-taking, with responsibility and reverence for ourselves and our environment.  And so that idea – that myth of the the necessity of short-cuts and time saving – leads us to make blind choices in hopes of feeling important and powerful.  But we become dependent on these things and then feel we are powerless without them.

Why? Greed is probably the best answer. Someone put that little cooler in my supermarket to make some money. Perhaps they have also been tricked into thinking that power comes by having the most, the best, every imaginable luxury. Perhaps they have forgotten that they don’t need all the “free time” and niceties they can handle – to matter.

They do matter, though. Just like everybody else. They have just forgotten.

Isn’t that convenient?

And when the fire’s work is done, our time to be reborn.

“Phoenix” Satyricon

 

Inspired by the fact that today is May Day I have set the intention of honoring and holding gratitude for the element of fire, and all that it symbolizes. It embodies passion and creativity and the sacred cycle of birth, death and rebirth. And so, as such, what a perfect example of everyday magic.  It is so powerful and yet so easily available.

May Day or Beltane is the celebration of fertility and the returning abundance and warmth of summer. It is a time of honoring life’s magnificence and embracing joy. And therefore, like the sun, fire is central to this celebration. Not only is it beautiful to look at, but fire provides us with light and warmth. It purifies and sanitizes and is essential in the preparation of food. The archetypal image of the phoenix rising from the ashes reminds us of fire’s connection to the ongoing processes of creation, destruction and renewal. It also reminds us of the beautiful duality of light and dark that exists in all things.

When thinking about how fire can reflect our emotional experiences both passion and anger easily come to mind. These are powerful, fierce, full of energy and life. They are strong motivators for action and can sometimes become frightening if someone feels that they might get out of control. This is especially true with anger. And yes- like fire, anger can prove to be very destructive if it is not tended to properly. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

So then – how does one tend to anger? Thinking about how you might tend to a fire is actually an excellent guide. First and foremost we can begin with respect for it, and a commitment to maintaining safety when dealing with it. And then we can be mindful of its usefulness. First reactions to feelings of anger tend to include fear,  feelings of powerlessness, as well as annoyance or desire for it to go away. But if we can remember that anger truly is a gift because it gives us information, then we are well on our way to transformation.

It is often easier to be aware that we are angry because we don’t like something or because we feel that something is unfair. Sometimes, though, we can use little bit of help realizing that we are angered because we don’t like something within ourselves. Is there something that I feel is too painful to acknowledge, or that I feel it might be difficult to improve upon? These are good things to consider – but then comes the question of how one might handle the anger once it’s fully ablaze.

Well, how would you handle a fire?  Think, for example, about a campfire. My guess is that you would naturally decide – because it would make the most sense – to give it your full and undivided attention. You would be building a fire in the first place because it was the appropriate time to do so. Once you have everything set up and it’s time to ignite it, you might first notice a surge of flames, and then watch it settle into a brilliant -yet contained – glow. Next, you might take a step back and look at it make sure that everything was OK – and then perhaps take a moment to just appreciate it, feel it’s warmth, etc.

When it comes to the emotion of anger, containment is simply created with intention. Decide to feel angry and not to act angry. And then once you’ve given yourself permission to feel it and it’s full of brilliance and glory – then feel it. Notice how you feel it in your body. Notice where your thoughts go.

Sometimes we don’t have the luxury of just divulging and experiencing our anger in the moment when we first notice it, and so it then becomes important to take time to think about it and process it later – when we know it can be safe and contained. But in that moment when you first notice it- just take a second to say “I see you. I know you’re there. We’ll talk later.”

You might be saying- I can’t do that. It will be too overwhelming. What if I do lose control?

Decide that you won’t.

The trouble is that we really don’t have much practice listening to and respecting our anger. We tend to do the opposite, don’t we? We call it inappropriate and try to push it away. In doing so we actually create the perfect conditions for combustion. We let ourselves escalate to just before the conversion point- when it would probably peak and then pass- but we get scared. And we slam on the brakes. Animated suspension- we create a pressure cooker, and lo and behold, we explode. And then we hold this as evidence that – look – see- I can’t handle my anger – it’s explosive. So we hold onto it. We deny it and let it become resentment. And we repeat – denying ourselves the grace of the beautiful natural process of renewal. In the words of Maya Angelou “Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” It too, purifies.

I need to be reminded of this, myself. Often.

Try this meditation to free yourself of anger, and emerge with new strength. You only need a few minutes…

Find a safe and quiet place to sit. Close your eyes and take a few deep, slow breaths. When you are ready, connect with your feeling of anger. Don’t overthink it. Just ask yourself where the anger is. What have you been angry about or at? As you start to focus on this- notice what you are feeling physically. Do you notice tension? Where? Is your breath changing? Your heart rate? Remind yourself that you are safe and in control. Know that you are ready to be fully aware of and in touch with your anger. Let the flames surge. Feel the energy and as you exhale imagine you are blowing on a fire to help it grow. As the energy increases know that you are angry, and then release it into the ground. Imagine the earth pulling it away from you and recycling the energy. Do this as long as you like. Accept the relief. And look within yourself to see what wisdom you have distilled.

Thank yourself and thank the earth. And thank the element of fire for its magical gifts.

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”            -Carl Jung

 

Synchronicity as described by Carl Jung  is meaningful coincidence. It is the gift of wisdom (and meaning) that is received when you listen with your heart and release your mind to experience unhindered perception. It occurs when you trust your mind to “do it’s thing” and make associations – to connect thoughts and memories and feelings.

This concept has been pulled into focus for me a great number of times over the past few weeks, as I have encountered repeated invitations to consider the topic of intention. What is my intention with this blog? What are my personal and professional intentions in general as well as in regard to specific activities like therapy sessions with clients, supervision with trainees, personal meditations – even things like cooking and getting dressed? And, as such, I have been encouraged to become more mindful and engaged. I have become more aware of the ways in which I choose to participate in my own life, and of some of the ways in which I can absolutely do better.

We actually hear the words intention and mindfulness rather frequently, don’t we? I can say that for the longest time both of these seemed to me to be challenging notions that required more energy and time than I could afford to spare. But I was wrong – ever so beautifully wrong. These are actually immediately accessible and attainable things. And the achievement of these can be effortless – when you allow your mind to do another one of “it’s things” and simply pay attention.

Just. Pay. Attention.

And so – as I’ve been pondering these words and their meanings: synchronicity, intention, attention, I began to see how they connect. I began to see how each of these reflect the intersection of awareness and meaning – a sacred point at a magical crossroads, where the true essence of what it means to be alive seems to be revealed.

So wait, what are we talking about here?

Well, attention is focus. Directed awareness. We are familiar with this . And intention is clarified choice of how one might use and hold attention in order to be or become something. Here again we find ourselves at a place where we have been all along, but likely without full awareness. When I anticipate or expect something I am inadvertently setting an intention for it. I am denying myself that essential key of purposeful decision making. So what do I need to do differently? I need to look. And see.

Let me tell you a story.

One day many years ago I found myself having the experience of being stuck in a horrible traffic jam. I don’t remember many  details of the situation, but I do know that it was a warm summer day and that I was somewhere in New Jersey on what was apparently a tremendously popular highway. I also recall being fully preoccupied with my frustration with the circumstances and with the ridiculous unfairness of such a terrible inconvenience. I was close enough to the car in front of me to see it’s occupants – and both still and restless enough to allow myself to become interested in what they might be doing.

As I reluctantly shifted my car into park in order to give my driving foot a rest, I saw two people in the front seat having a conversation, and a young girl of maybe 8 or 9, sitting in the backseat quietly looking out of the window. I could see the features of her face and noticed that she appeared to maybe have Down’s Syndrome – and then I was captivated by her gorgeous expression. I think it is best described as a mixture of peacefulness, appreciation and wonderment. The unexpectedness of this clearly positive facial expression was enough to penetrate my grumpiness – and I became curious. As I turned to look in the direction of her gaze, I was overcome with those same feelings of peacefulness, appreciation and wonderment. There on the side of the road was a beautiful little marsh with trees and wildflowers growing all around it. There was a stream of sunlight trickling in through the branches illuminating the scene in the most extraordinary way. It was breathtaking. And it was right next to me. Available and accessible all along. And those feelings of peace and happiness-  available and accessible all along- if only I had chosen to pay attention. If only I had the intention to look and see. I had been making a choice about my experience, and what a relief it was to see that that was not the best that I could do.

And so I continue to be grateful for that little girl and that powerful lesson.

Teachers are everywhere if your intention is to learn. Everything is already right in front of you if your intention is to see.