Process of Illumination

Steve Jobs

TED Tuesday

Babble.com publishers Rufus Griscom and Alisa Volkman, in a lively tag-team, expose 4 facts that parents never, ever admit -- and why they should. Funny and honest, for parents and nonparents alike.

 

Tower of Power

In a moment of rare indulgence, I allowed myself to sleep in today past 10:30am. I have been fighting not to come down with my son's cold and had a late night. Feeling well-rested, I was going to share with you how excited I am to have the opportunity to plan my mother's 80th birthday party. Anyone who knows me well, knows that I affectionately refer to her as my “Smother”. She is the quintessential doting Jewish mother who would open a vein if it meant it would make my world sunnier even for a moment. Far too humble to be the center of attention, it was surprising that she granted me permission to plan a party for her. In fact, she sort of suggested it. I am brimming with joy to be able to celebrate her and the beautiful, generous person she is. But alas, this is not what this post is demanding to be about.

On the heels of my Fool card post, I pulled a card this morning. Not struggling with any particular topic, I was just looking for some symbolic energy to hold in my thoughts...just screwing around, basically. Lo and behold I pulled the card I dread, The Tower. It's an image of violent destruction that makes me afraid my world is about to crumble. WTF?! Just when I am feeling so fabulous!

To me this image calls to mind recent events of natural disaster like the earthquake in Haiti. Suffering and destruction is not where my head is at today. I nearly picked another card, but stopped myself. Perhaps there is another way to look at The Tower. There was only one thing to do: “To the internets...”

I found such an eloquent analysis of this card, that I am posting it verbatim. It is from a site called Aeclectic Tarot.

As the Fool leaves the throne of the Goat God, he comes upon a Tower, fantastic, magnificent, and familiar. In fact, The Fool, himself, helped build this Tower back when the most important thing to him was making his mark on the world and proving himself better than other men. Inside the Tower, at the top, arrogant men still live, convinced of their rightness. Seeing the Tower again, the Fool feels as if lightning has just flashed across his mind; he thought he'd left that old self behind when he started on this spiritual journey. But he realizes now that he hasn't. He's been seeing himself, like the Tower, like the men inside, as alone and singular and superior, when in fact, he is no such thing. So captured is he by the shock of this insight, that he opens his mouth and releases a SHOUT! And to his astonishment and terror, as if the shout has taken form, a bolt of actual lightning slashes down from the heavens, striking the Tower and sending its residents leaping out into the waters below.

In a moment, it is over. The Tower is rubble, only rocks remaining. Stunned and shaken to the core, the Fool experiences grief, profound fear and disbelief. But also, a strange clarity of vision, as if his inner eye has finally opened. He tore down his resistance to change and sacrifice (Hanged man), then broke free of his fear and preconceptions of death (Death); he dissolved his belief that opposites cannot be merged (Temperance) and shattered the chains of ambition and desire (The Devil). But here and now, he has done what was hardest: destroyed the lies he held about himself. What's left is the bare, absolute truth. On this he can rebuild his soul. 

If this blog had a theme so far, it would be the challenges I've been struggling with on this path of accelerated growth. I have spoken about 6 different ways about how evolution demands a letting go on all levels — mental, emotional and physical. Old ways of thinking, old ways of feeling, old structures that no longer work, and even old friends who no longer fit must be left behind. Yes! The Tower is exactly what I've been looking at. Duh. 

So as I go into this weekend of self-imposed rest and renewal, I find gratitude in the courage I've found to be on this path and my willingness to destroy what no longer works for the opportunity to create what does.

Blah blah blah. Time for another cupcake!

Fooling Around

Most of us have a particular association with tarot cards that goes something like this...It was a dark, foggy night on my walk home through the village when I happened upon a traveling carnival. The spinning of a ferris wheel and giant tea cups created a hypnotic frenzy as slightly deranged looking men and women barked to play their games — shoot a water pistol in the mouth of a clown, or knock down some heavy milk bottles with a brown leather ball. Squeals and cries of small children amped up on sugar and adrenalin peppered the drone of generators. And then suddenly right in front of me materialized a tent, simultaneously disheveled and bedazzled, the sign in front read, “Madame Zorah”. Before I knew it, I had entered the tent. It was as if some mysterious force had pulled me in. And there she was, sitting behind a table draped with a red cloth. She was as worn as the deck of cards she held in her hand. Her long black hair looked dusty, as if she must have been sitting there in that very tent for decades. She looked like she might drink me in with her large, black, knowing eyes.

Okay, you get the picture. The truth about Tarot is that it can serve as a useful tool in decision making. Hear me out. Yes, the esoteric hippie in me wants to believe that the cards are a vehicle for my spirit guides to send me messages from the ethers and tell me what to do. And certainly, Tarot has a long history as a means of divination. But even my very intellectual New Yorker self uses the cards regularly. When pondering a current issue, I will often take out my cards, shuffle and randomly pull one. Whatever the topic and whatever card comes up, I am presented with a potential perspective from which to see this issue —a different energy or way of being with my life and the people in it. It's a tool to get out of my head, to break my usual pattern of thoughts and feelings. I will sometimes pull a card and just move through my day with that particular archetype in my consciousness, asking questions like, “What would the Hanged Man say to the dentist who tells me I need $1500 worth of work on my mouth?” or “How would the Empress respond to the barista who can't seem to get my half caf non-fat foamy latte right”?

Most evidence points to the first Tarot cards popping up in the early 15th century as a game. It wasn’t adopted by mystics, occultists and secret societies as a means of divination and covert communication until the 17th century. The deck is divided into numbered and face cards in four different suits. Our modern playing cards’ source is in the Tarot deck with Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs and Spades derivative of the Tarot's Cups, Pentacles, Wands and Swords or roughly, the Emotional, Physical, Mental and Spiritual selves. These are called the Minor Arcana. In addition, 22 cards make up the Major Arcana. The word “arcana” means: a profound secret or mystery known only to initiates. And truly, there is much symbology and coded visual language in these cards, too much to go into at length when I am already pushing the limits of acceptable blog entry length. Suffice to say that the 22 cards of the Major Arcana are each a depiction of an archetype of the human condition. With names like, The Magician, The Hermit, Temperance, Strength, each card represents a specific point in the protagonist's story.  

This week, I have been pondering the first card of the Major Arcana, "The Fool". As I start a few new ventures, stepping into new territory, this card resonates with me.The Fool has no pretense, no judgement. He is simple and willing. He stands at edge of a precipice, ready to leap into the unknown. The sun, a symbol of universal illumination, or “crazy wisdom” is behind him lighting his way, and grounded by his base, survival instincts in the form of the small dog at his heels. He carries his belongings, items from his physical world on his shoulder with ease. His arms are open wide in an accepting embrace of what the universe holds for him. Holding this card and taking it in is validation of so many things I am experiencing right now on my personal journey —the curiosity to explore, the willingness to risk, the trust that I'll be safe. And when I become conscious that the next step will find my foot leaving terra firma for the unknown, I can look at this card and be reminded that I am not the first to take a leap of faith. There have been many fools before me who have done what I am doing and felt what I am feeling. I am not the first to — as our favorite sneaker maker says — “Just do it.”

 

Centered Pose

“You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of.”
— Jim Rohn

I am finding comfort in this thought today as a wear my favorite yoga tank by Lululemon, called “Centered Pose.” Sitting in the middle of the maelstrom, I observe what swirls around me. The process of deciding what to engage with and what to let drift on by requires a vigilant observation of what choices honor my core values. Nurturing the connection with who I am and how I aspire to being in the world, affords me the foundation from which to act both consciously and responsibly. Not always the easiest place to sit, but ultimately the most rewarding.

TED Tuesday

If you ever doubt what you are capable of, consider operatic soprano Charity Tillemann-Dick.You'll never sing again, said her doctor. But in a story from the very edge of medical possibility, she tells a double story of survival -- of her body, from a double lung transplant, and of her spirit, fueled by an unwavering will to sing.

Deeply moving, this eighteen minutes might change your life. For those of us who have faced medical challenges especially, this is mind-altering. For doctors, it is powerful information. I won't give away the ending, but you won't be disappointed.

 

Challenging Compassion

“Let no man pull you low enough to hate him.” 
— Martin Luther King Jr.

It is a special day. Today we celebrate my son’s 4th birthday. It is also the day we remember and honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his contribution to humanity. There is so much inspiration to find in the words and work of Dr. King, but this year, these particular words strike a big chord. In recent weeks, I had been confronted by a situation that challenged my ability to honor one of my deepest values — compassion. Some weeks ago, I received an angry, vitriolic attack via email from someone I worked with in a workshop. The email was inappropriate, inaccurate and threatening. I was simultaneously terrified and outraged. I hated this man!

For a few days, I licked my wounds and indulged my fear and anger at this passive-aggressive terrorist, knowing that somewhere in this experience is what I have learned to refer to as an “AFGO” — Another Fucking Growth Opportunity. It had something to do with the fact that my hatred wasn’t serving me. And that lead me to something deeper. 

One of my deepest beliefs is that we are all souls on a journey, each deserving of compassion. So the question then becomes: How can I hate my attacker and still have compassion for him? Well...I can't. I can hate what he did, but I cannot hate him. I also believe that we are connected in ways our minds cannot fully fathom. So having compassion for him is also having compassion for a part of myself.

This might sound a bit heady and abstract, but as soon as I came to these realizations, I wanted to hug my attacker. What a small, wounded person he really was to be able to lash out that way. Suddenly, his email had nothing to do with me. Not a thing! I just happened to be the witness of a testimony to his own suffering in himself. My fist unclenched and my heart opened.

So if the proof is in the pudding, this past weekend was a big bowl of tapioca. It was the last in our series of workshops and this man and I had to coexist in the same room for 3 full days. We had not communicated at all since the attack. Being in the room wasn't easy. At first, I felt scared and vulnerable. As the time passed, we silently negotiated our space with each other. It seemed that he softened a bit and I offered an olive branch. He didn't take it and I didn't hug him. But the space in my heart that might have been occupied by hatred, was instead filled with deep learning and gratitude for the opportunity to grow.

An Apple A Day...

“Your time is limited, don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living the result of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinion drown your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition, they somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

Steve Jobs
Co-founder and CEO of Apple, Inc.

Sankalpa: Setting an Intention

Working with sankalpa changed my life. Okay, this year has been filled to the brim with catalysts and triggers. But I am confident that the work I did for several months with a particular sankalpa affected a series of deep and permanent shifts in the nature of my existence. Sankalpa is not a resolution, but an inspired intention. There's a difference. Sounds heady, but it is really very simple. 

I came across this article today in Yoga International magazine written beautifully by Kelly McGonigal, she teaches yoga, meditation and psychology at Stanford. It's an easy read. I highly recommend both the article and the practice.

It’s natural to identify a desire as “I want” and an intention as “I will” or “I won’t.” But these phrases lack the truth of the commitment that comes from heartfelt desire and connection to one’s dharma. “A sankalpa isn’t a petition or a prayer,” Miller says, “It is a statement of deeply held fact, and a vow that is true in the present moment.”

For this reason, your sankalpa—both the heartfelt desire and the specific intention—should be stated in the present tense. For example, rather than saying, “I want to be more compassionate,” your sankalpa might be, “Compassion is my true nature” or “I am compassion itself.” Rather than setting the intention, “I will not eat meat,” your specific sankalpa might be, “With compassion for my body and for other beings, I eat a vegetarian diet.” Stating your sankalpa in present tense acknowledges the tremendous will, energy, and truth that arrive with the discovery of your heartfelt desire. It also reminds you that whatever is required of you is already within you.

Read the full article here:
Inspired Intention | The Nature of Sankalpa.

Holding the Exhalation

Inhale, and God approaches you. Hold the inhalation, and God remains with you. Exhale, and you approach God. Hold the exhalation, and surrender to God.  —Sri Tiramulai Krishnamacharya

It's the eve of the eve of another new year and I am at once empty and full. This past year has brought so many changes my head is spinning. Finally, I feel my life in motion, and it's distinctly in the forward direction. Typically, I embrace New Year's Eve as an opportunity to celebrate — and by celebrate, I mean do a few shots and dance till I drop. This year...same but different. I will be celebrating joyfully, but I have decided to stay home and be quiet. This has been a huge year for me, bringing a whole new community, career and home. As is inevitably necessary when stepping into newness, I've had to let go of many things. More to the point, I've had to abandon old ways of BEING. 

In reflecting on all that has come and gone this year, I turned to my journal. From August in Rockland County, where I grew up...I had just had a wonderful weekend reuniting with many of the friends with whom I grew up:

Yesterday was a full-on existential crisis. With my companion gone and the weekend with friends past, I was left in a stupor. Exhausted, hungover, caffeine-deprived, untethered in Rockland County. There is that moment at the end of the exhale when there is emptiness, a void, contracted to nothingness. The release feels good, the letting go, the purge. But the chaos on the way out is uncomfortable, the loss painful and the emptiness terrifying. I could see the structure of my life...my children, my community, my parents, my career my friends all standing by. Reduced to a pulpy substance the way New York seems so easily to do to me, I could see them all, but I couldn't reach them. Thoughts of my daughter's imminent arrival helped me coalesce back into a recognizable form. Motherhood will do that for you. I could hardly show up at JFK in my pulpy puddle form. 

And so today I begin the inhale once again. Expansion, regeneration. My old house is gone, and so must be my attachment to it. New selves are waiting for their mother to nurture and grow them.

So here I sit at the conclusion of a momentous year, holding the exhale and doing cartwheels in the space I've created before filling it back up with fresh air.