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
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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