Feeling As Competently As I Think

Rodin's "The Kiss"

I've set for myself a worthy goal: To have as much awareness, confidence, competence, and refinement in my ability to feel as I have in my ability to think.

I will be working on this goal assiduously for however long it takes.

I've always been confident in my thinking skills and capacity. I love to think. I love to extend my knowledge, build bridges between concepts, and extrapolate into rarified cognitive air.

Thinking about thinking, too. Philosophy. Justice. Art. Compassion. Mysticism and science. Lots and lots of domains of intellectual exploration.

Detail - See the book in his
hand, not being read?

Recently, I realized that feeling - not "thinking about feeling" or "analyzing my feelings" was a treasure trove of growth. It helped me banish some encroaching depression. It helped me increase my cardiovascular capacity. It taps into an (apparently) infinite universe that I've really just begun to understand.

And there's an interesting difference, for me, between thinking and feeling. If I'm doing it right, feeling is effortless. Exertionless, even. And yet its harvest is extraordinary.

The down side is, of course, that I'm really a babe in the woods on this half of my consciousness, compared to the 50 years of intense focus on my thinking machinery. I may have a long road ahead of me.

The good news is that it's an amazingly rich and colorful, sensuous and sensory road. I can see that already.

What a cool journey.  Anybody want to join me?

(Anybody willing to help?)

Breathing through Resistance

Exploring Inner Sustainability - From Grand Schemes to Innermost Choices

I've know for a while that a major breakthrough is waiting for me through the mastery of breath. 

But there is resistance in me - in many dimensions, including resistance to mastering the breath, even though I know that my life will be better on the other side of it.

I think I've discovered how to break through that resistance. 

I examined the sources of the resistance, and I saw how the resistance was being reinforced. That was actually the more important element in the whole mix. 

Oddly, surprisingly (or...perhaps not?), it was reinforced by self-judgement. This self-judgement was non-verbal. It came in the forms of...Pressure. Disgust at failure. Anger at inadequacy. Not-enough-ness. 

Describing it with words is difficult.

What to do...? I felt my way into the resistance (and the judgement) and let it sit for a breath or two. Then I began to breathe into it and through it, and it began to break up and become smaller, lighter, less like dead weight. 

Here's the key: I did this in a way that was "sustainable". 

I didn't try to make it all go away at once. I didn't judge myself for going slowly and feeding myself along the way. 

It has become clear to me that a fundamental impediment to my progress is that I push too hard. Pushing too hard means that the push isn't sustainable. Apparently, that applies on every level, from grand schemes to the innermost choices. Posture. Breath. Right Action. Truth. 

I combined this realization with something I learned in yoga. Using the mind to push the body past its comfort zone into pain and exhaustion (and injury) leads to the body not trusting the mind to do the "self-sustaining" thing. And that, in turn, leads the body into resistance, which actually SLOWS progress. And resistance leads the mind into judgement. And judgement leads to stagnation. 

So, I woke up this morning and did just enough QiGong to make me feel good, at a pace that reinforced itself. I look forward to feeling that way again. 

Now that's sustainable.

The Buddha Whispered In My Ear

In the wee hours, while I was lying in bed, the Buddha whispered to me. He said, "The pain of holding on is worse than the pain of letting go."

The pain of holding on is the pain of attachment. It leads to disease and stagnation, resistance, and suffering. Ultimately, it kills you.

The pain of letting go is the pain of detachment. It leads to freedom. To healing. Ultimately, to rebirth (see the seminal case of Caterpillar v Butterfly).

I've been known to say to my clients, "There are two kinds of pain. The pain where healing is occurring, and the pain where healing is not occurring. Which kind would you prefer to feel?"

I know this to be true deep inside myself, and yet I cling. Purging remains a deep challenge.

Old habits, it seems, are hard to shake.

Why are there Two Wolves?

Cherokee Fable Points to Serious Design Flaw

I received a letter recently, from someone whom I care about. It was not a happy letter; it was quite critical of me. That's all I'll say about it, because, interestingly, it's not the content of the letter that bothers me.

I'm actually puzzling about my reaction to it. I don't feel hurt, particularly (OK, if I'm honest, I do feel a little hurt, although not that long ago I might have been devastated). 

No, rather I'm pondering why a constructive reaction is not my first impulse.

It's a simple thing. You get negative feedback. What do you do? Fire back a tightly-worded counter-attack? Sure seems like it would feel good. But what purpose would it serve?

Or, do you construct a delicately-worded response designed to soothe and engage with love and compassion?

Sounds like the later would be the better option.

So why does the former beckon?

I'm reminded of the old Cherokee story of the Grandfather who counsels his grandson about the two wolves fighting inside him - the "good wolf" and the "angry wolf". The grandson asks which one wins. Grandfather replies, "The one I feed."

It's a beautiful tale, and among many on the web, this version matches what I remember from my childhood.

But what I really want to know is - Why are there two wolves?

Seems like a bad design to me.

2012: The Year of Action

Welcome to the action. Claim your piece.

Early in 2011 I got the message that 2011 would be the year of Authenticity - the year where doing what wasn't true would be hard, and discovering what we truly are would be paramount.

I hadn't given similar thought to 2012. It seemed like there was already so much written and said about 2012 that I would have little to add.

Then, last night, a quiet, gently foggy night, I got the message.

"2012 is the year of Action."

Action vs. Taking Action:
2012 will be the year of action whether we as individuals choose to act or not. As the saying goes, "No decision is a decision." Similarly, choosing not to act is a choice to have others direct your actions. In this case, I suspect we will be compelled by circumstances to be actors in the grand drama, however uncomfortable that may be at times. Better to participate in choosing the course.

Selfish Action vs. Community Action:
One can argue that a selfish act can be an act in support of the community, and that an act in support of community can also serve the self. I like this perspective, because it suggests that we have a choice to bring these two courses, which on the surface seem so antipodal, into a kind of harmonious alignment.

When contemplating an act, consider what aspects of it are selfish, in a community-damaging way. Then see how those aspects can be eliminated or mitigated.

How can the "selfish" act become "sustainable"?

My favorite call to action of this type (one that I've heard probably thousands of times) is, "Put on your own mask before helping others…"

The "Good", the "Bad", and the "Bridge":
The notion of taking action can conjure thoughts of political and community activism, and working toward our objectives (and against the opposition's). I will no doubt be pulled to "Support the Good" and "Resist the Bad". There is the aphorism, attributed to Edmund Burke, that "All that is required for evil to triumph is for good men to stand by and do nothing".

But there is a third course of action - the act of relentlessly pursuing understanding, communion, and communication. Being a bridge.

Jesus broke bread with the sinners. And he did not judge them.
"Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God."
(Or, from the Aramaic, "Blessed are they who make peace…" Note how that feels very active...)

I am committing to more regular publishing of thoughts here at the Firefly Willows blog; I'm also committing to another course of action: The Swallowtail Project blog. There you will find my more "activist" writings, and, I hope, my successful exertions at being a bridge.

Welcome, 2012. Welcome to the action. Claim your piece.

Exertion vs. Effort

Exertion in the Presence of Disharmony

My life has been a long episode of "trying my hardest to achieve", no matter what the circumstances. Vacation? How do I get the most out of it? Relaxing massage? How do I harvest the optimum relaxation from the experience? Sleep? What kind of active dreaming, subconscious clearing, or astral projection work can be done tonight? 

You name it, I have developed a knack for turning any activity into a exercise in maximum extraction. I have such a habit of constantly "working" on something that there has been an unconscious part of myself that will actively create effort even when there is none. 

I realized this recently when I was driving to Firefly Willows. There was no hurry. The drive takes maybe five minutes. There was almost no traffic. And yet, I realized that there was this great force, this "pressure" that I felt that I was pushing against. I could feel it as if a big, inflated shape was pressing against me as I sat in the car. 

And I had constructed it out of nothing.

Why? 

Because it was something I could push against. I quickly dismissed it…and felt so strange that I lost an aspect of my equilibrium. There was nothing to push forward against, and it felt like I was falling (forward).

It was really odd.

I've struggled with the notions of "just being" and "just receiving" as a way of living because, although they're recommended by many mystical authorities, there is a part of me - the athlete/warrior part - that enjoys exertion. Heavy lifting. The application of force through the vehicle of the self. I'd have called this "making an effort" just a few days ago, but I think I just learned something this morning.

I do like to exert myself. It feels good. I've developed a capacity that I enjoy using, and feel strong when I do. But I noticed that I used the word "exertion" and "exert" as the thing I would miss, not "effort".

The question then had to be asked, "Are exertion and effort the same thing?" 

The dictionary was not helpful. There was something subtle to be felt here, a difference that I could not ignore. Exertion is something I do. Effort is something I do in the presence of...what? Resistance? 

On a Newtonian physics level, there is no exertion without effort, because there has to be something to "push" against. 

And still, I'm sure there's a profound difference. We don't live in a strictly Newtonian world (and certainly our spirits don't…). I know that I'm willing to exert myself. But I'm increasingly suspicious of effort. It seems dark, and heavy. It seems like, on a very deep level, there's something more to be examined. Does God exert him/herself? Or does God apply effort? Possibly the former. I doubt the latter.

Some thoughts:

When I play a sport like basketball, I'm experiencing resistance from the other players. But we have a mutual goal - the exploration and enjoyment of the game. So that's effort, but at another level its cooperative exertion.

When I'm climbing a mountain, I'm exerting myself. The resistance I experience is the force of gravity. maybe that makes it an effort, but it doesn't feel like one, because I welcome the force of gravity as, in essence, I welcome the other basketball players - without them, something would be missing.

So if I don't think of these things as "effort" (and resistance), then what DOES fall into the category of effort? (Is resistance always bad?)

Ugly things. Difficult things. Things like working a job I don't love, or driving in a traffic jam. Things like taking corporate money out of politics and stopping the rape of the environment. Anywhere that the exertion comes up against a darkness. 

So, OK, that's a judgement. Slippery ground for metaphysics, I confess. 

Maybe it's better to say that Effort is Exertion in the presence of Disharmony?

I think it's a continuum. Exertion flows into effort in the presence of an unenlightened player. And that player may well be myself.

I admit I'm still puzzled, because those word evoke very different feelings inside me.  Can you share your perspectives on Exertion vs. Effort?

Mars at Play

What does he do, when he's in play? What is play, or "Capital P" Play, for Mars?

Play, for Mars, might be a very competitive thing. But I think Capital P Play for Mars would be something for which there is no competition, no equivalent to winning or losing, victory, or loss. 

Rather, I think Play for Mars would be just the opposite - no downside. Because so much of his work is colored by the inherent notion of conflict, opposition, and the effort to vanquish the opposition, I think Play for Mars, the kind that leads to his own personal development and is also "Fun" would be loss-less adventure. Experimentation. Gaiety and laughing without inhibition. Silly joy.

I need to understand this guy better. Partly because I'm born under the sign of the Ram. Aries is part of my blueprint. But also because I haven't been a very active in play over the past many years, especially non-competitive play. And also because I think I'm missing an essential tool in the toolkit for surviving and evolving. For manifesting my dreams and visions. Play is something I need to learn, and, perhaps, need to teach. 

Or so the stars suggested to me tonight as I walked the dog out under the moonlight.

"Consider," they said, "Mars, at Play."