Doctortayria's Blog

In the last few days I have heard from three different people, all from different places, that they are in the process of deciding to cut way back on watching the news, or of eliminating it altogether. In each case these are very extraordinarily well-informed, thoughtful, concerned, pro-active citizens. When I heard it from the first friend, I felt surprised and moved to hear her say this. I knew it came from a deep place, and is not a decision she would make without a lot of consideration. A few days later, I heard the same thing from another friend, and had the same response to her choice as well as to the coincidence. Today I heard it for the third time. Something is going on.

In my Dialogue training we worked from the theory that everything we need to know is already inside of us. Vivekananda said similarly, “The infinite library of the universe is inside your mind.” In thinking about these three people the first thing I know about them is that they are not trying to escape, quite the opposite. I’m starting to feel excited for them because I know that this is big, and that they will still be listening to what is going on in the world actively, but with different ears and a different antenna. They will  know what is going on in the world because that is who they are, but they will know from a different place and in a different way. The discord between who they are on the inside and what they are feeling bombarded with on the outside will hopefully subside so that they can think again, as the true citizens that they are. I’m can’t speak for the thoughts or motivations of these friends. I am remarking on my own fascinating and admiration; and on my sense that something is going on.

Sometimes sadness just wants her time, her due. She requires respect. She doesn’t want to be shoved aside as though she doesn’t matter or has nothing to say. She is not inclined to behave wildly to get attention, she simply crawls up out of her cave in the heart and sits there. My words and thoughts mostly disrupt her, she just needs to be heard. She appears to be on a mission and have some purpose.

It occurs to me that when sadness is suppressed she becomes like a madwoman in the attic that haunts and rattles the house day and night. If invited to come in and stay awhile, she retires gracefully after her visit. I’ve been sitting with her today. She’s been telling me stories about the whole world. I’m ok with this, but I won’t mind if she retreats back into her cave tomorrow. I’ve got work to do.

Yesterday I felt addressed as I saw the lively rush of a stream in an otherwise frozen and motionless terrain. I had been feeling stagnant and the water reminded me to let that kind of movement and vitality flow through my internal landscape. Today the stream is talking to me some more. February 4, 32 years ago today, I got married. The marriage lasted 20-some years. There is so much from that experience that I haven’t let go of yet. Why? I can’t answer the question, I really can’t. What am I hanging onto and why? I keep thinking about how the stream spoke yesterday and it’s meaning seems so clear in yet another way today. Let it go, let it go, life is about clearing and flow, let it go. I suffer because I haven’t let go. The message in that stream seems so crystal clear. Let it go. Nature’s voice can be so unambiguous and uncomplicated. Why do we hang on to old hurts? I really don’t know.

Yesterday as I was driving back up the mountain after some errands in town, I turned off what I was listening to as I reached the gravel road so that I could listen to the mountain. I have done this ever since I once read an essay of Wendell Berry’s in which he said that out of respect for deep nature, whenever he is driving through it he turns off the music or radio. I love that. It’s like you have entered into a church and you take on a different mode of attention.

The road these days is muddy, snowy, icey and messy. As I drove up the section that has a stream coming down the mountain right next to it I saw the clear, clean water dancing over the rocks, rushing down past me. My attention was drawn to it in such a way that I felt like it was talking to me, hollering “Hey, over here.” I think “What?” Everything around the stream looked frozen, dead and stagnant but the water just kept moving on toward its destination.

I got it. That was the message. Living up here alone, I do feel part of the landscape and often find that I am feeling and behaving just as it is. Which lately means frozen, stagnant, muddy. It is as if the “stream of consciousness” was calling out to my unconsciousness saying “You’re not completely frozen!” So today I’m making an effort to unstick myself from the cabin feverish, inert feeling and let the stream talk to me more. I’m thinking of a quote by Alfred Adler that I have taped to the wall in my office: “Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events not of words. Trust movement.” That quote along with one by D.H. Lawrence often work together to fortify my heart, helping me to just stay with it, whatever it is, every day, don’t get stuck and don’t be anxious. I can’t quote Lawrences’s words exactly, but the message is burned into my brain. It’s like this: “Do what is right under your nose to do, that’s all. It’s the hardest thing to do, that’s why so few people do it.” Exactly. When I look up and start to worry about the future that’s when I get frozen. Focus right under my nose. Do the next thing. One step at a time. Let my heart lead the way. Don’t worry about where it is going, just keep it going. The destination isn’t the point. It’s the movement. Trust movement.

Nature on the mountain is resting and pregnant with the future right now. And so am I. It isn’t worried. Nor should I be. I’ll just keep moving.

Recently I ran into this quote by Swami Prajnanpad: “There is no weapon more powerful in achieving the truth than acceptance of oneself.” It has been playing itself over and over in my mind. Self-doubt, self-criticism, embarrassment for careless remarks — how does a person overcome these things? We live with ourselves all of the time, how can we not be all too aware of every tiny detail that we’re not proud of?

I had a tiny shift in this pattern of being hard on myself a few months ago, and it has been a revelation. It feels like cool water pouring through an armor onto dry, scorched skin, or a soothing ointment on a self-inflicted wound that would never heal because I kept scratching it. I don’t have a hard time loving anyone, anyone! Why so hard on myself I wonder.

It’s been two steps forward and three steps back on this one, but I’m getting better. I had a struggle with it again today, so it makes me want to say to anyone who ever reads this: Be gentle with yourself, forgiving, listening, compassionate, loving. If we can do this for ourselves, then I think we can do it for anybody. This has to be where peace on earth begins, I’m thinking.

My facial muscles are hurting today from smiling so much last night watching the Grammy’s. Shining through all of the ego things that they all have to learn to navigate, the spirits and eyes and hearts of these artists just twinkled. And the music was so great.

The moment I probably won’t ever forget, though, came when Prince Michael and Paris Jackson took the stage to accept their father’s Lifetime Achievement Award. Their cousins surrounded them with eyes brimming with pride and strong  support. Prince Michael accepted the award eloquently, then said, “My father’s message was simple. It was love.” Books and movies and rock histories will fascinate us as the explore Michael Jackson’s legacy, but I am guessing that pretty much everyone knows that his message was simple. It was love.

That’s what all of this is about anyway, isn’t it? Anything we ever do, the reason we get up in the morning, or hammer a nail or type a word or wash a sheet or take a meeting, it’s all about love ultimately, isn’t it? What else is it for? It seems like it should be that simple. I think Jesus thought it was that simple. We just have to keep focus.

My neighbor’s chicken hopped up on my woodpile and is looking right at me through my living room window. She wants some love. Birdseed. Maybe I’ll go get her some.