the other side of peace

"conflict is essential to the development and growth of man and society.  it leads either to the construction or destruction of an entire group or state. . .  if there is no conflict - internal or external - there can be no growth."
-sun tzu, the art of war

thinking about this quote brought a conversation from many years ago to mind.  at the time, i was an idealistic new college graduate in my 20s and was tutoring high school and middle school students.  one particular student challenged me when i talked about peace as an important ideal.  he defended war, and he called it a completely natural thing.  "war is even something that happens within our bodies," he told me.  that teenager so eloquently left me flustered.

then, just this week, my body went into a state of full revolt against a virus or something i ate, and i remembered that student's words.  a war was going on in my body, and on some level, i was grateful that the battle was being fought.

i agree with the art of war on this one: conflict is essential for growth.  there is something about conflict that is necessary for our evolution, and even for our well-being.  to deny conflict is often to deny truth, and to me, peace that's faking it, isn't peace at all.  many times, i've had experiences when i can feel anger, resentment, or judgment coming from someone, but the peace mask keeps it neatly hidden.  to me, this mask isn't true peace.

true peace is in having the courage to stand up, be true, and deal with a conflict if it exists.  when i think of a wise martial artist, or even my body defending itself from something perceived as harmful, those images don't hit my sense of violence.  the use of force as defense can actually be a way of creating a state of harmony, balance, and eventual peace.

now, a couple days later, my body is at peace again.  there were moments bowing before my toilet that i honestly wondered if i would feel normal again.  the sense of overwhelming chaos and out of control nausea was all i could see or feel at that time.  but then a day or two later, balance was reestablished, and it was reestablished rather quickly simply because my body was willing to stand up, defend, and deal with the problem.

i see the truest and strongest form of peace just like that.  peace isn't necessarily the person that's always smiling and friendly, never with an unkind word to say.  peace is the one that has the courage to speak the truth.  peace is the one that doesn't cower when conflict enters the room.  peace is the one that stands up, and if truth is in saying what someone else might not want to hear, true peace is secure enough to speak anyway.

there may seem to be a contradiction between this and my last post, but the deepest truth about peace seems hidden in this paradox.  peace is courageous, but not a vigilante always looking to destroy injustice on the outside.  peace is the willingness to look within first.  peace isn't fueled by anger or righteousness; its fuel is Truth and Love.  all actions that are driven by the purest sources of this fuel, even ones that might seem externally violent, can be actions of peace.

this peace i talk about isn't the opposite of conflict; it is just big enough to encompass conflict.  within this state of Peace, there is room for all that rich conflict that leads to our greatest lessons and growth.

rumi's field

this quote keeps coming up for me:

"out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. i will meet you there." -rumi

i first came across it as i started investigating non-violent communication . after taking some classes, i'm finding this is a whole way of thinking, and i'm currently spending a lot of time learning to live in this field beyond duality.

peace on earth

the holiday season gets peace into the everyday vocabulary. it keeps showing up on holiday cards and in beautiful songs like this one.

to me, there's this visionary and mystical feel of the phrase, peace on earth.  when i hear or see those three words together, i'm drawn to the questions: what is peace on earth? what would it look like? what would it feel like?

in more righteous phases of my life, i felt like peace on earth was something we had to fight for.  it was something that would arise when all the injustice was battled to its death; it was something that would come out of the elimination of all the violence in the world.

but, when i held that view, i felt very far from the reality of peace on earth.  i felt like it was centuries, maybe millenia away.  i felt like it was almost unattainable because how could we possibly end the immense amount of injustice and violence in our world.  there's too much, and going after it one little bit at a time seemed absolutely exhausting and overwhelming.

later in my life, i discovered a small unity church that i attended on and off for a few years.  at the end of the service every sunday, the congregation made a circle around the sanctuary, joined hands, and sang.  i'm not much of a singer, so i mostly mouthed the words with little umpf, but there was one special song that i was happy to sing.

in this church's version the lyrics were changed to, "now there is peace on earth, and yes, it begins with me. . . "

the first time i was in this circle, singing the song in this way, i literally started weeping.  my hands were awkwardly occupied by the two strangers holding them on either side of me, so i didn't even wipe the tears.  i was held in this state of vulnerability, tears streaming down my face and the song proclaiming a reality that i so deeply craved.

i realized that in that moment, in that room, in that small community mostly made up of people whose names i didn't know, there was peace on earth.  i felt no violence; i felt no injustice; i felt no war.  all that felt real was peace.

from that moment forward, the idea that peace on earth is here and now has grown.  there are undeniable places on the planet, geographically and within human hearts, that are not at peace.  five seconds of web surfing or news watching is all that's needed to confirm that. 

but, at the exact same moment, there are these wells of infinite peace that are equally available and spontaneously invoked at certain moments.  although this immense peace and the actions it inspires don't get the same air time, i know that they're there.

we can choose to exercise the incredible force of human faith and believe that there is peace on earth, now. by where we put our attention, and how we stand in relationship to others, we can choose whether to feed our power into a reality of peace on earth, or into some other reality. 

making the choice to live in this state of peace on earth isn't easy.  i've found our fighting to eradicate the violence, war, and injustice in others to be a often vain battle that only perpetuates the very things it claims to eliminate.  in fighting externally against forces labeled evil or wrong, we only increase the violence within ourselves and incite the other to get back at us. 

but there is a battle that must be fought to live in this state.  the battle is not against others, but rather, it is a battle within ourselves.

the only place to possibly fight for peace is within our own beings, within our own minds, and within our own relationships.  at times this requires radical honesty in facing the hatred and war brewing within ourselves.  it's only in surrendering in the war within that the gateway opens for a more consistent residency in the place beyond rightdoing and wrongdoing, that place of peace on earth.

during this season when this magical little phrase flies around more than at other times of year, i feel a renewal of my faith that peace on earth exists, here and now.

"the gentle art of blessing"

for the last couple months, i've been reading the gentle art of blessing by pierre prandervand.  a little excerpt from the book can give you a taste of what this book is about, or you could click the title of the book above, order, and check it out yourself.

pradervand enthusiastically shares the journey of his discovery and practice of blessing as an everyday art.  as his ideas have begun to sink into my own mind and way of being, i've realized how fantastic blessing is as a tool to transform what would otherwise be painful and conflicted interactions.

when i first started reading the book, life presented me with an opportunity for blessing.  a student came into my office one day and informed me that he'd gone to the administration to complain about me.  as he told me about my unfairness in grading, my adrenaline started to pump, and the knee jerk reaction to defend myself and point out his deficencies started moving towards action.

luckily, i recognized this as an opportunity to put my passion for peace into practice, and i stopped myself.  instead of picking up my own sword and fighting back, i could choose to bless him.  i could see his integrity, his goodness, his desire to connect and succeed.  i could see his blame as merely one small part of all he was bringing into my office, and i could honor and recognize how much more there was to him and to what he was saying.

as i resisted my initial conditioned response, i sat quietly and worked to hold a loving space.  i detected a little surprise from him that i was so calm, and the entire encounter was over as quickly as it began.  i'd be lying if i said it didn't cause me some anxiousness, but overall, the discomfort on my end was considerably less than during tense student situations in the past.

the real testament to the power of this practice came as the semester continued.  i was astounded at how the behavior of this student shifted.  prior to that meeting, my impression of him was that he was somewhat of a slacker, rather disengaged, and unreceptive to learning the skills i teach.  after the meeting, i noticed that he engaged differently in class, and even more surprising, he regularly and humbly started coming to my office with questions and taking the necessary initiative to bring his own skills to the next level.

these subsequent visits to my office could've been awkward, even adversarial, but they weren't.  they were pleasant, and as a teacher, i felt fulfilled and even inspired by how this student had shifted.  i had a chance to witness how much more he really was than what he showed earlier in the semester, or what he showed in my office that one day.

and even more, i had a chance to learn from and reflect on what caused his discontent.  by avoiding the temptation to defend myself, i had the opportunity to see where i could grow as a teacher.  i could see that he was teaching me, just as i was teaching him.  as he demonstrated how to walk deeper into his role as a student, i felt filled with ideas and inspiration for how i could walk deeper into my role as a teacher.

the book is filled with stories much more powerful and profound than this little episode from my own life.  the power of blessing is truly transformative, and to me, it feels like the mental action of living in rumi's field.  to live in a state of blessing is to live beyond rightdoing and wrongdoing, in a place where everything is just as it should be, and all that exists is really beautiful, complete, and fully capable of amazing feats.

adyashanti

last spring, i was introduced to the work of adyashanti.  i've been touched by his direct path spiritual teaching that "dares all seekers of peace and freedom to take the possibility of liberation seriously."

as an undergrad philosophy major, i remember how i used to long for truth, liberation, and enlightenment.  in the years since, i've been on the journey of starting a family and a career, and these deeper metaphysical pulls have moved out of focus.  listening to and reading adyashanti's teachings have helped me bring this focus back into my life, and for that, i'm so deeply grateful.

i acknowledge that his teachings aren't for everyone.  his teachings may seem heavy or disorienting.  i just offer this to give a taste to anyone that may feel called to explore.  to me, they've been an enormous source of wisdom.

he has lots of free clips that you can listen to online.

for something more comprehensive, the core of adya's teachings are explained in three videos that can be accessed by following this link:
Adyashanti Basic Teachings

the "s" word

One night at dinner, my 7 year old daughter was telling us the rules of her classroom, and my husband and I sat with attention as she told us, "we're not allowed to say all the bad words. You know, like the 's' word."

"The 's' word?" my husband asked almost afraid to hear the answer.

She leaned in and whispered, "stupid."

From this moment, something that now seems obvious started to dawn on me: this "s" word is a subtle, yet powerful, form of violence.  The teacher's decision to ban this word from the classroom was a measure to create harmony and peace among the students.  Brilliant.

And as I've tossed this around more in my mind, I see how much adults could take a cue from my daughter’s teacher.  The news and the political conversations that grow out of the news throw around the "s" word or one of its close cousins on a daily basis. We constantly belittle public figures, those who follow them, entertainers, even just random people who somehow end up in a glint of spotlight.

And this "s" word leads right into the middle of the "us against them" mentality.  Through labeling others as stupid, we can build these fences that divide us into different groups: those that know what’s going on and those that are stupid.  And at least in the U.S., this sort-of thinking has developed into a deeply ingrained cultural pattern.  There is a great deal of violence in cultural conversations, and these word and thought choices act as a subtle poison eroding our societal sense of unity.

Just because bloodshed, guns, and bombs aren't a literal part of our every day lives, it just takes moments to look and see the gaping cultural divides that separate us?  And each day they feel harder and harder to bridge.

But, I'm so unwilling to just accept that this is the ugly path we're destined to continue.  My daughter's teacher has done her part in creating a more peaceful world by teaching the growing children in her care that the "s" word is inappropriate for conversation.  She inspires me to find the ways to play my own part in bringing more peace to my words, my thoughts, and my actions.

conscious parenting

when i was pregnant with my now nine year old daughter, i had the incredibly good fortune of running into the article parenting by intention, by barry neil kaufman.  before my daughter even entered the world, this article made me start thinking about parenting in an entirely different way than everything i had seen or experienced before.  the thing that i've taken the most from the article is a sense that we are teaching our children in such subtle but powerful ways in everything we do.  by consciously choosing how to interact with our children, we can hopefully ensure that the greatest lessons of childhood are the ones that we most wanted to communicate, instead of ones that came from the unintended consequences of following many mainstream parenting techniques.


this week i found a second profoundly inspiring writing on parenting: raising children compassionately: parenting the nonviolent communication way, by marshall rosenberg.  in this tiny book, dr. rosenberg shares many stories about his experiences raising his own three children, and he powerfully demonstrates how we can raise wonderful children without the tools of punishment and reward.  his philosophy centers on giving our children the utmost respect and resisting the pressure to control their behavior.  so many things that he communicates in the book resonated for me, but i've found that these sorts of ideas are pretty radical in the world of modern parenting.


in the last decade when raising a daughter has been on the forefront of my mind, i've only come across these two writings that have inspired me about parenting, and it's left me wondering if there isn't a dominant parenting paradigm based on control, punishment, and reward that isn't questioned as often as it should be. 


the ways we serve our children are as varied as the parents in the world, and although there is no right way and no perfect parent, i love exploring these different perspectives on the fringe.  it helps me affirm my own unique way of parenting, and it helps me continue moving into a role of greater harmony with my daughter, my self, and the way my parenting expresses my highest hopes for the future of humanity.     

The Immaculate Mother

Written for my paternal grandmother, 12/23/2003:


The Immaculate Mother

A spirit so pure
She willingly took the place
Of a mother of nine
Who could no longer occupy that space

Although these children were not born of her womb
She loved and nurtured them as though they were
Maintaining their home in memory of their first mother
Proud to share the love with her irreplaceable predeccessor

Taking the labor of a large family that would crush many
Only strengthened this great woman's unassuming spirit
With the light of God shining from her heart
She taught her lessons through example and great merit

A matriarch need not give birth to embody the spirit of motherhood
The key is having selfless and undiminished love for her kin
This Immaculate Mother taught that we, as human beings, are not inherently selfish
But rather have within us the ability to give in perfection

some thoughts about my grandmom

 originally written for my maternal grandmother - 2/6/2010

My grandmother passed away 2 years ago at age 99, just months before she would’ve become a centenarian. Many who knew her may only remember how nasty and rude she could be, which was unfortunately the side she most often showed in her last years, but, if you had the privilege of seeing beneath that rough exterior, there was quite a woman inside.

The period of time that she always harped on and returned to in story after story was the Great Depression. Seeing the endless lines of people wanting work and food had such a strong impact on her view of the world. She was lucky enough to be employed throughout the Depression by the Philadelphia Wanamakers store, and as her own life and wealth began, she was so impacted by how things were falling apart for the people around her.

It made her shrewd with money and, well, shrewd all around, in the best and worst senses of the word. She was clever and conniving, and always ready to protect herself and her things if necessary. One event which really captures what she’d do to protect her independence happened when she was in her 90s. She had to have her medications doled out by the staff in her retirement home, and she so despised the loss of freedom. In an effort to take the situation into her own hands, she called the pharmacy to order her prescription for herself. She almost pulled it off, but the fake credit card number that she gave them didn’t go through and spoiled her plan. These little borderline criminal activities defined my grandmother in her later years. They drove those who cared for her absolutely nuts, but secretly I always admired her strength and was thoroughly entertained from my vantage point far from the brunt of her wrath.

My grandmother was so truly ahead of her time. She was a strong and independent woman, and she gained the confidence to so thoroughly challenge the world with only an education through middle school. She resented the lost opportunity to attend school because of the need to care for the home and her ailing mother, but for what she didn’t learn in school, she made up for in reading books and in using her own mind to figure out the world. She led her family to financial freedom and paid off every house she ever lived in. She ended up with more than enough money to carry her through her long life. In my opinion, she cracked the code of living with a sense of freedom, something many of us with greater opportunities and education haven’t been able to do. Granted, sometimes it was the freedom to deck a nice lady at the retirement home cocktail hour, but still a sense of freedom nonetheless.

Grandmom has been on my mind this week as I started to crochet a scarf for my daughter. Crocheting was a great love in her life and one that she passed along to me. As I age and crochet when I have time, I understand more and more the peace she got from this simple creative act. During this nostalgic flood of memories that has been coming to the surface, she made a strange but profound reappearance in my life today.

This morning I got a message from a lawyer looking for me. The lawyer told me that savings bonds had been found underneath some floor boards in my grandmother's old bank. They are dated spanning the time before my birth up until the year I was born, and on them is my name and the city where my family lived when I was born. There was also an alternate beneficiary whose last name is my grandmother’s maiden name. It’s still not at all clear that these savings bonds are in fact for me, although the coincidences are mounting to the point that it seems they must be. Being dated before I was born is more than a bit strange, but somehow it doesn't seem impossible considering my grandmother. This is just the sort-of wacky thing that happened with some frequency when she was alive.

I miss her, and this weird situation feels like her way of reaching out to show that she still has the power to stir up some crazy, even from the Great Beyond. Today I'm feeling grateful for the chance to see her at work once again.

the magic of monteverde

thirteen years ago, i spent three months as a volunteer tour guide at the monteverde butterfly garden in costa rica. those three months were life changing.

i learned so much - about rain forest ecology, the butterfly life cycle, and the culture of this small town without paved roads. in the 1950s, a group of quakers from the u.s. moved into the area because of the immense beauty and the fact that costa rica has no military. the result was monteverde - this mixed culture and bilingual town where preservation of natural surroundings seemed a unifying ideal.

every morning when i was there, i woke with the sun. by the time it went down around six o'clock, i was exhausted by all the walking, humidity, and adventures of the day. i felt so integrated with the natural rhythms and so in tune with the rich wildlife and nature around me, and as life has gotten busy and far from nature at times, i've treasured my memories of monteverde.


last week, i returned to monteverde for the first time, and this time with my husband and daughter. i was so excited to share this place with my daughter. she loves nature movies, and it felt like giving her the chance to be in one of these movies for herself.

not long after we arrived, it became clear that monteverde had changed. after years of resistance by some of the locals, part of the road had been paved. a flurry of new development occurred, and things felt much busier in the town.

one of the first things my daughter wanted to do was walk on the suspended bridges through the canopy. remembering the bridges to be peaceful and a beautiful perspective of the forest, i signed up through our hotel. the next morning a bus decorated with lizards and other forest creatures picked us up.

we were delivered to a rain forest theme park where herds of people lined up for zip lining, canopy bridges, a butterfly garden, a hummingbird garden, and a serpentarium. we got our tickets for the bridges, and it wasn't a long walk before it became obvious that the wildest animals we'd see were the ones painted on the side of the bus. after walking over a bridge being painted and filling the air with an awful chemical smell, i felt queasy. this strong sense of judgmental self-righteousness came over me. this wasn't the monteverde i loved.

for the next couple hours i felt trapped in the park until the next bus would take us back to town. it felt wrong being there. it felt like an exploitation of the rain forest for a profit, and i felt sure that these huge structures and all this development was impacting the delicate ecosystem. and, my hotel had sent me here when i asked about bridges and the butterfly garden, but these weren't the ones that i went to thirteen years ago. i wondered how many people were being siphoned to the park, and away from smaller and older businesses that had been the heart of eco-tourism before.

but as the week went on i learned that the monteverde i loved was still there. at the end of the pavement, the old dirt road continued, and it went past stella's bakery, and the local craft co-op, casem. then on past the monteverde cheese factory, where we walked to get fresh ice cream everyday. we also discovered a new and lovely place, yoga studio/community center, rio shanti, where we met wonderful people and had a chance to peer into a local family's life. the road went on, all the way down to the monteverde biological reserve. little paths took us off the dirt road on to raised walkways through the trees, and everyday, as we walked these paths, we saw the real treasures of monteverde: the amazing creatures that fill the luscious forest.

one morning as we trekked out with the hope of finally seeing a sloth, we didn't even get 100 meters from our hotel before we saw this gorgeous one hanging out a few feet from the bridge where we walked. as my daughter leaped for joy saying "thank you, thank you, thank you!" i felt reconnected to the magic of monteverde, the magic that enchanted me years before.

as our week in the jungle came to a close, the two different tracks through monteverde were apparent: one enjoyed by the locals and the lucky few that stumble upon it, and the one that can be packaged up for one all-inclusive price and experienced in a day and a half. but as i contemplated the two, it occurred to me how very far i was from rumi's field. i was caught smack in the middle of wrongdoing and rightdoing, seeing my way of experiencing monteverde as the right way, but on the web, i found tons of raving reviews from people that absolutely loved the day they spent at the theme park. for them, it was the right choice of how to spend their limited time in the rain forest.

i was so attached to the monteverde i knew. i suppose that i secretly hoped monteverde was frozen in time, just like it had been in my memory. but i learned some things about change during my time studying the butterflies that also apply to the transformation in this small town.

during the chrysalis phase of the butterfly life cycle, the entire body of the caterpillar is broken down. this transformation is a death, but in this death a beautiful winged creature that spreads pollen and inspires awe is born.

in the same way, monteverde has gone through a transformation and that small town that i remember is gone in a sense. in its place, there is a well-tread path that sees thousands of visitors each year, many of whom only stay for a day or so. but each of those people then have the opportunity to carry a little bit of the rain forest with them, a sort-of spreading of monteverde's pollen out into the world.

and then, some that go there do see monteverde, my way. they walk the magical pathways along the dirt road, and they encounter the hidden treasures. this monteverde is still there, thriving and growing in wonderful ways, but now it's just as though there's a highway that passes close by with a hidden sign to the subtler treasures.

monteverde - like any place - can be that field beyond wrongdoing and rightdoing. embracing many perspectives juxtaposed upon eachother, instead of just feeling attachment to my way, there actually is enough space for all these realities to exist together. this co-existence is the foundation for peace; allowing the differences and even conflicts is the only way toward a diverse world free of violence.

so now, my work is just convincing my ego that holding this field is more valuable than being right about everything. we'll see how that works out.

without fear of hypocrisy

in the wake of the hands across the sand gathering, i felt inspired and connected to the other people reaching for a different relationship with the earth, oil, and the oceans. then, yesterday as i surfed the web, i read some of the comment strings following the stories about this global movement, and my spirits fell.

in the comments, there was a theme of accusations against those calling for clean energy by intimating that they had no right because they drove their cars to the beach, used cell phones, or drank out of plastic water bottles. it saddened me that others sat in such harsh judgment of people peacefully speaking out with their hope for a new way of relating to the earth. the beautiful message of the hands across the sand gatherings being so misunderstood was a let-down to say the least.

and, i am just the hypocrite those comments accuse. i drove to our event over the rio grande, had a cell phone in my purse, and even had a disposable plastic water bottle. even though i'm guilty to the core of living in this oil driven society, i don't understand why this means i should've stayed home.

the truth about so many of the deepest problems facing humanity is that it isn't so easy to stop our participation and support. i'd love to drive an electric car, independent of oil, but for one, the electric car was so mysteriously pulled off the market years ago (check out who killed the electric car to hear the story), and two, we don't currently have the money for a hybrid. these cars are on my radar for sure, but since so many green alternatives simply cost more, does that mean only those that can afford windmills and hybrids have the right to say anything?

i also generally carry reusable water bottles, but this saturday we couldn't find one before we left, so we bought some water on our way. should we have been so ashamed of not finding our water bottle that we went thirsty; should our shame become our silence?

i'll be the first to admit that i'm not living my ideal life. i make choices on the fly, like buying a plastic bottle of water, and i sacrifice my ideals for the practical reality of my life, like having a car to take me into the city. i could have a smaller footprint, but i don't. no explanation, no excuse. i see the blood on my hands, and that is exactly why i chose to participate in hands across the sand.

the story is the same with so many other issues. we support the big food industry, no matter how much we may disagree with the misleading labels or the inhumane treatment of animals. we support the violence of war through our tax dollars, no matter the strength with which we may hold pacifist ideals. maybe other people do better, and maybe we could be better. maybe we could be more informed and disciplined shoppers; maybe we could live off the land and avoid income tax; or maybe, we could accept that we're human.

we could forgive ourselves for making choices for our comfort. we could do our best, and let it empower us that we could still find places to do better. we could stand up for the societal changes that would support us in making personal and collective changes toward the world we most hope to live in.

this is not to say that the full integration of principle and action isn't a beautiful thing to strive for. this little story paints that picture:
a mother waited in line with her son to speak to mahatma gandhi. when it was her turn, she asked him to tell her son to stop eating salt because he had a health condition that was worsened when he ate salt. gandhi told her to leave and return in two weeks. when the mother and son returned, gandhi looked into the boys eyes and told him not to eat salt. the mother then asked why he couldn't have just said this two weeks ago, and gandhi responded, "because two weeks ago, i was eating salt."

to be a leader, it is so important to integrate beliefs into actions, and the great extent of this integration in gandhi that's demonstrated in this story points out why he was such an effective and inspiring leader.

but, i think it equally important to recognize that we don't all have to have the discipline exercised by gandhi to have a hand in change. with so much conflicting information and our hurried modern lives, it's not always easy to align principle and action. we can only do the best that we can, and no one else is in the position to judge our best. when we get caught in a tangle of judgment, shame, and holding ourselves to such high standards, we can become impotent, but there is a more empowering perspective.

just being part of this interconnected societal web, i participate in all sorts of things that i don't agree with, but instead of silencing me, i allow my personal sense of responsibility to motivate me. rumi said, "out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. i will meet you there," and to me this field is a powerful place. no matter where you shop, what you do for a living, or what you drive, you are always welcome in this field. it's in this field where we can release the fear of being a hypocrite and its attendant paralysis, and we can authentically stand up for what we wish to see in our world.

in that spirit, i would join hands with anyone standing up for the transition of our oil economy to a clean energy economy. everyone's hope and willingness for change matters, and those making some of the most harmful unconscious choices are sitting upon some of the biggest potential impact. by coming together instead of judging each other, we have the best chance to redirect the course of humanity towards a truly sustainable human race. in my opinion, that hope is much more important than the ability to save face by staying home.

fierce grace for humanity

Years ago, the film Fierce Grace made quite an impact on me. In this documentary, spiritual teacher, Ram Dass shows how his life changed as he surrendered to the loss of bodily control inherent in a major stroke. He sees himself as “stroked” by the divine, and this major health challenge as fierce grace, giving him another opportunity to learn and move towards a more awakened state of being.



With this unending flow of oil into the Gulf of Mexico, fierce grace is on my mind. My own itchy need to control has been rising, as I feel those painful yearnings of wanting the leak to stop so badly. Moments of rage course through me as I hear about the lack of regulation on the oil industry that had a hand in this tragedy. Insult compounds the injury when I hear that another incredibly toxic chemical has been poured into the ocean to disguise the appearance of the oil on the surface. Just thinking about the situation for a moment can send me into such a deep sense of separation, of fear, of anger.

And then, in another moment, I can see the unity arising out of this crisis. As we work together and share the feelings inherent in this crisis, there are connections being made. All those that depend on the sea for their livelihood just want it to stop. Those that live in coastal regions and fear what will come of their shores just want it to stop. Environmentalists just want it to stop. Even big oil executives dealing with the huge loss of oil and reputation just want it to stop.

But despite our unified prayers, it won’t stop. It keeps flowing, holding our attention, and making us surrender to the fact that we do not have control.

There is a humbling that is happening to us and a break-down of our illusion of control. The planet is holding up a mirror, and we’re being shown that we’re gambling at a table where the stakes are much higher than we thought. We are playing a game with rules far more complicated than our minds can comprehend. The consequences of our actions are upon us, and even as we try, we can’t escape seeing the truth about our destructive relationship with the planet.

It’s so tempting to turn to rage and to blame, but the truth from my perspective is that we all have our hand in the tragedy. Even if we have worked hard to reduce our own oil consumption and dependency, we can’t deny that we are co-conspirators in the human addiction to oil. It’s embedded in just about everything we buy, everything we do, everywhere we go. Even if we believe that we don’t support this paradigm of man over nature, we can't avoid it.

As I work with this tragedy as a form of fierce grace, many questions come to mind. Can I forgive those that allowed such lax regulation to be imposed on such dangerous operations? Can I unite with those that had more knowledge, more choice, and more control over avoiding this tragedy? Can I accept that I too am responsible, I too have oil on my hands, and I too am part of this web of oil dependency? Can I really hold the truth that unity isn’t just about coming together around peace, love and joy; it’s also about sharing responsibility, grief and truth?

This oil leak is an opportunity to evolve. We can use it as a catalyst to humble us to the immense power and harmony of nature. We can let this drive us to rapidly transition into exclusively relying on renewable and clean energy sources. We can come together and accept responsibility as a united human race.

Just maybe this fierce grace will dawn a new way for us to live in harmony with our planet.

let the children lead us home

the need for a guided rite of passage into adulthood had been coming up for me lately. as my daughter seems to be quickly approaching that time, i reflect on how chaotic and confusing those years were in my life. it seems a sad and unsustainable trend that has developed in modern culture where so many of us transition into adulthood without tools, without being acknowledged by our communities, and without a clue about the possibilities and traps that await us. so many young people that have so much to contribute our society end up in gangs, prisons and abusive situations that squelch their potential. although there is a great deal of learning in finding one's own way through challenges, i hope that we revive old traditions and create new ones to give our young people the best start to their independent adult lives.

as you read the story, picture a bonfire on a warm clear evening, the sky deep with stars. an elder sits at the head of the circle, sharing this story to a group of boys getting ready to go through their own vision quest.

"Here's a story of a boy named Alīya who lived long ago. In Alīya’s community, when a boy began to show the signs of puberty, he was taken in the night by an elder. This elder was secretly assigned sometime during the childhood of the boy to watch and monitor his growth. When the older man recognized the time of ripening, he would snatch the boy away from society and take him into a period of isolation, giving him the chance to have a vision.

Alīya was a small and shy boy that didn’t pass through puberty at the same age as the other boys of his community. One by one, he watched as each of his friends disappeared for about a week at a time and came back as a recognized adult in their society.

A jealousy began to build inside him that it was never him taken in the night, and soon that jealousy built into anger. At night, he often would wait, sitting on the edge of his bed, hoping and praying that finally his guardian elder would come and take him off to become a man.

Alīya kept asking his mother why the guardian had not come. He asked if he actually had been assigned a guardian, if maybe the guardian didn’t realize how old Alīya was, if the guardian had forgotten his duty to come in the night. Each time, his mother swatted away the questions with laughter and said ‘dear Alīya, you must be patient. The guardian is kept a secret especially for boys like you who have an eagerness that surpasses their readiness.’

These weren’t the words that Alīya wanted to hear. Although his mother didn’t think he was ready, he knew that he was. He considered himself much more mature than lots of the boys who had already gone before him. ‘It is just because I’m small,” Alīya thought. He knew that was the reason the guardian was stalling. It wasn’t because he wasn’t ready.

As years continued to pass, Alīya grilled every boy as he came back from the time of isolation. He asked them what it was like, where they went, if they were given food and water. Most boys wouldn’t share any details at all, but here and there, Alīya collected bits of information like they were shiny gems lifted from the bottom of a muddy pond.

Still, Alīya was never taken for his rite of passage vision. He was turning seventeen, and now boys around five years younger than him were already beginning to disappear for a vision. Alīya was fueled by his anger, and just after his seventeenth birthday, he decided that he would not wait even a moment longer for his quest.

In the night, Alīya left with only a small tool made from sticks and a rock that could be used as a weapon if necessary. He brought no food or water, since he’d heard the initiates were given nothing at all to eat or drink for their five day quest in the wilderness. He set off just before the sun began to rise, in search of the place where he would stay.

Alīya only had a familiarity with the areas closest to the settlement, and the guardian’s role was to find a safe spot separate from the community, but close enough to return home quickly if necessary. As Alīya walked during the early hours of morning light, he realized that he had no idea what he was looking for.

He walked and walked and began looking for small caves, where he could get some shelter and be out of view if anyone did happen to pass by. Into the late afternoon, he still hadn’t found a place that felt right to him and started to worry that he’d walked too far, that he was long out of an earshot of the settlement, and that he would lose his way back.

Just then, a little bluebird came across Alīya’s path. Right away, Alīya took notice and recognized this as a sign. For the rest of the afternoon, Alīya followed the bird, sometimes having to run just to keep the little creature in sight. The bird drew him further and further from a territory of familiarity, but still, Alīya felt safe.

As the sun lit up the sky with the last bursts of light for the day, the small bluebird stopped at a clearing. Alīya approached and saw that the bird had stopped at the edge of a rock cliff, a drop off point. As the sun set behind him, Alīya looked down into a gorgeous canyon. There were lots of trees in one area, and the faint sound of rushing water. An open meadow with tall grasses was between the line of trees and the rock face where Alīya was sitting. As he looked out, Alīya realized that he had found the place where he would do his Vision Quest.

For three days and three nights, Alīya remained in that spot, looking over the canyon. He admired the beauty and the play of the moving sun throughout the day. He felt the highs of elation in moments of clarity when he felt his own life in perfect harmony with the world around him, and he felt the depths of pain and fear when his hunger would strike or he’d hear noises that might indicate a bear or mountain lion hunting nearby.

On the morning of the fourth day, Alīya could no longer fight the urge to go down into the canyon. He wanted to see the water that he was hearing, wash in it, drink it; he wanted to see if there were some berries to eat down there.

He began his climb through a down the rock face in a spot where there were many trees to grab if he lost his footing. Luckily, there were many gaps and spaces in the rock for him to step in and grasp as he made his way down. About half-way down, rain began to pelt his back. As forceful rivers shot down the grooves in the rock, it became slippery. It was too hard to go on, and he was too far down to head back. Alīya clung to the rock with all his might trying not to move.

After what felt like hours, the rain slowed and finally stopped. Within an hour, Alīya made it down into the canyon.

He was rewarded with pristine sweet water, and a few varieties of berries that he knew to be edible. When he’d had his fill, he came out of the woods by the river and took a seat in the tall grasses. He looked up to the spot where he had been sitting for the last few days and admired how high up he’d been. As he sat and watched, he saw tons of little bluebirds flying in circles within the open area. Alīya felt a great sense of peace admiring the birds and this great place he had found.

Alīya completed his Vision Quest here in the canyon. As he looked up on the rock face, he admired the holes and patterning that often morphed into the shapes of animals and faces. In the canyon, he finally felt he was having the vision that he traveled all this way to have. After two more days of isolation, it was time for Alīya to make his way back to the settlement. He felt emboldened by the time he’d spent away, and he did have an idea to bring back to his community, a vision not just for himself, but for all of them.

He found his way back with greater ease than he expected, and Alīya was welcomed with open arms and celebration. During the feast to celebrate his transition into adulthood, Alīya told his tribe about the place he’d been, about the water and the berries, about the rock face filled with holes and small caves.

Within weeks of his return, the large group followed behind as Alīya led the way to this new ground. He assured them that they would have a time of plenty in this place and that there were many possibilities. He promised that their world could be different and abundant here.

As the tribal chief reached the overlook, he fell down in prayer. Immediately, he knew that what Alīya had said and seen was true. He knew that this place was to be their next settlement. Then and there, the chief saw the possibility of a more permanent settlement, a place for the community to thrive and grow.

In the many years that followed, the tribe did settle and expand into this canyon. They made homes in the rock and in the meadow below. They grew food to supplement the food that grew wild in the area. As time moved forward, other tribes came and were welcomed into this place of abundance.

One of the largest communities that had ever been established to that point was formed in that canyon. Alīya had a vision of how his community could be and his descendants fulfilled that vision and lived for hundreds of years on that land."

photo from rgbstock.com

freedom

the concept of freedom is a personal obsession. my attraction to a sustainable lifestyle comes at least in part from a sense that if we could provide many of the needs of life for ourselves, we'd have more freedom in deciding how to spend our precious moments. when i feel my wings are clipped and i'd only be staying somewhere because i have to, i get the itch to run.

as so many life decisions are up in the air, i keep running into this love for freedom. interestingly, a paradox is arising as i've been investigating the teachings of adyashanti. instead of a freedom from circumstances, responsibilities and restrictions on choice, adyashanti talks of a freedom from the illusions of the mind, and a surrender to the reality that all those circumstances, responsibilities and restrictions are simply illusions. our truest freedom is in seeing through this illusory sense of reality.

i'm realizing that really nothing is ever certain, and the uncertainty itself is the doorway to the freedom i seek.

"when nothing is certain, anything is possible." from Suzanne Eder in 10 Ways to Find Peace Rather than Panic

Give the Office of Peace a Chance

Something I wrote back in 2006:

Give the Office of Peace a chance

locked down light

during my short stint as a practicing criminal defense lawyer, i was moved deeper and learned more profound lessons during my brief moments behind prison walls than i could've imagined possible.

one day driving home from the prison, dudley gray's 'drift away' came on the radio. the lyrics resonated with my ripe feeling of sadness from walking by the hopeless faces of the men behind bars. i felt that sense of caged souls, of forgotten lives that so longed to be free.

years ago, i vividly remember interviewing a client being held on drug charges that was about to be sentenced. my interview was to prepare me to write a sentencing letter to the court, so my questions were aimed to give me a good sense of his whole life, the crime to which he plead guilty, and his feelings about the crime and life after prison. we sat in the small interview room for hours exploring the details of his life: his mother's drug problem, his grandmother's drug problem, the lack of any male role models in his life, the lack of enough food and a clean house to live in during long spans of his childhood.

the thing that moved me the most about his story was his perspective. not even for a moment was there a hint of victimhood in his voice or eyes, or a hidden wish for a different family, a different past, a different lot in life. in some eloquent way that i wish i could recapture, he said that his life made him who he was, and he was grateful for that.

reforming our prisons to be compassionate and healing places isn't just important for the people currently in the prisons; it's important for all of us. so many incredible souls with real contributions to make are caged up in our prisons. so much of our own light is locked down, caught up in a broken system that doesn't restore and reintegrate.

before my more intimate contact with prisons, i assumed that everyone locked up posed a real threat to society, but that belief quickly unraveled. as i got to know more and more inmates, i saw common traits of challenging childhoods, ambitious dreams, and limited options. all this got me wondering what my own ambition would've looked like if i'd been born into a different situation. what choices would i have made if my starting point and my options were so different?

our justice system is far from perfect, and in my opinion, the results are far from really telling us who the "bad guys" are. fear and judgement often keep people from caring about this issue and cause politicians to win points for making the bars stronger and sentences longer, but instead, we need to point out that our current system creates havens of anti-social behavior that increase, not decrease, the likelihood of further crimes and threats to public safety. our system is an endless cycle of ugliness that perpetuates itself, and so many people with so much to contribute are cut off from sharing their light with the rest of us.

the individuals and the stories locked up in our prisons are really part of a much bigger story - one about historical inequality, one about blame, one about poverty, one about judgement, one about government control. the only way that we can heal is to take a real look at what is going on here, be willing to see the truth, and stand up for what we feel is right.

the way back home

we've been living like gypsies for five years, and as my daughter has been enthusiastically declaring to everyone she knows that in a few short months she'll have lived in 10 houses in her 9 years, i'm feeling the "are you people crazy?!" vibes starting to surround us.

this journey has been so erratic in part because of it's intangible destination. we've been searching for home, but for us, home is so much bigger. home is a way of life that we seek from the deepest parts of ourselves.

from the time i was a little girl, i've craved a tribe. when i first heard stories of native americans, a place deep inside me opened: a knowing of a different way that life could be; a knowing of a different definition of family, community and work; and a knowing of what home means to me. part of what brought my husband and i together was that we shared this sense of home.

our odyssey has gotten so confused as we swing back and forth between the practical considerations of a place and what it offers to the less concrete sense of home as a feeling. these steps on the journey have been a surrender to the fact that the home we seek does not exist now, precisely because we haven't created it yet.

the seeking is not so much about here or there, this job or that one - it's something so much bigger. it's a path, a journey, a portal that we hope to pass through in order to live in a way that resonates with the core of who we really are. it's a reinvention of that sense of home within us, here and now. even though at times our lives feel so mundane and far from the dream, we are, however slowly, moving towards it.

we aren't looking for a place that's perfect, although we've gotten side-tracked into that vision at times. and although the passage through so many different homes and work situations has been an incredible source of experiences, we're nearing the moment when what we really need is to slow down. i'm reminded of that feeling right before the birth of my daughter, when the labor progressed to the point when i knew it was almost time, when i knew it was time to get to the place to give birth.

i'm finding myself less and less concerned with the means to get there. things will come and go at the speed that they do, but the calling i really feel right now is one to something inside, ready for expression in the world.

i feel reminded of the quote, "if you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change" by wayne dyer. as my perspective shifts, i realize that we are finding our way back home, but home was so much closer than we thought.