Is to feel felt.

How can we most effectively interact with one another? Clearly we have profound influence on the energetic and neuro-psychological wellness of the people in our lives. These times warrant our consideration of this question: how can we best support each, in ways that most positively impact and support?

Let’s look to those famous spiritual masters from the movie, Inside, Out, Bing Bong, and his friends, the Sad Girl and the Happy Girl. In this two-and-a-half minute clip, you can see these characters illustrate the powerful practice of radical, compassionate acceptance. As we allow people to be where there are, as we acknowledge and accept them, all change becomes possible.

A simple idea, surely, yet this is a profound life practice. Please join Bing Bong, Sad Girl and Happy Girl.

And consider—how might you explore radical acceptance through the compassionate witnessing of another? Consider. Contemplate. What would it look like in your life? No action is even needed. To the contrary, this is truly about non-doing and presence.

As always, dear reader, keep me posted via my email, aruni@rnetworx.com. I treasure your responses and am awed by our relationship across the cyber-miles.

As spring softly lands, many blessings,
Aruni

 

Between stimulus and response
there is a space
In that space is our power to choose our response
In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

Viktor Frankl, Austrian neurologist, psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, in this, his definition of the power of pause, describes the gap into which grace and growth can flow. As we consider the practice of patience, the image of Frankl’s “space” comes to mind. Having the patience to sit without reaction, having the strength of self to watch the urge toward habitual response, and choosing not to—this is the cognitive repatterning that the yogis promise us.

Different traditions language this process in their own vernacular. Twelve Step program, in its brilliant simplicity, gives us a practical and powerful anchor into the practice of patient non-doing by offering the busy and active addictive mind this guidance:

Don’t just do something—
Sit there.

From another tradition and perspective, Lin Yutang, Chinese writer and scholar, of the 20^th century, offers us his words. Can’t you almost feel a deep breath of relief as you read the following?

Besides the noble art of getting things done,
there is the noble art of leaving things undone.

Bringing that sacred pause into our practice, we allow life to unravel in its own way. We partner with life by taking action, while letting go of the results, allowing that which unfolds to prove more remarkable than anything we might create ourselves. The phrase, more will be revealed becomes a literal promise in this practice of powerful patience.

Let’s consider two aspects of patience. The first pillar is the powerful practice of patient pausing, which calls us into self-observation without judgment, the watching of our internal response to the moment and choosing our reaction. Clearly patience is needed to develop this muscle of non-judgmental awareness. The second pillar, the potent practice of patient non-doing, not pushing the river, or attempting to force a solution, recalibrates our relationship with reality, shifting us into a more impactful and more effective position. Life simply knows better than we do! More will be revealed as we “hold the posture”, letting life take the lead.

You might be thinking, oh, great idea—yet how might I practice? Here are some simple considerations for this upcoming week—pick one, pick all, pick none. Just consider:

• Is there one arena in your life in which you are over-involved, attempting to force a solution?
• Without judgment, watch yourself. Bless the humanity that you bring to that arena of life.
• What might you do to practice letting go, allowing the situation to unfold? What would that look like? Be specific.
• What is one practical and concrete thing you can do TODAY to practice patience?

I end with these words from the brilliant meditation and mindfulness teacher, Sharon Saltzberg, who reminds us of the passionate nature of patience. Let’s breathe and relax, as we conclude with Sharon’s invitation into impassioned living:

Patience doesn’t mean making a pact with the devil of denial,
ignoring our emotions and aspirations.
It means being wholeheartedly engaged in the process that’s unfolding,
rather than ripping open a budding flower or demanding a caterpillar hurry up
and get that chrysalis stage over with.

As always, these practices open the door to the savoring of life. Let us go forth and savor, dear readers!

Dear Guests, please keep me posted. How does this conversation land for you? Feel free to email me at aruni@rnetworx with any feedback. The privacy of our email exchange can keep our practices vital.

All blessings,
Aruni

 

Stepping forward, post-blizzard

The Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous says, “acceptance is the answer to all of my problems today”.
On page 449 in Edition Three, it continues in its almost-yogic explanation of acceptance:

“When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing or situation –
some fact of my life, unacceptable to me
and I can find no serenity
until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation
as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment.
Nothing, absolutely nothing happens
in God’s world by mistake.”

The feelings, the people, the circumstances—they are not the problem. The problem is my struggle and push against them, creating literal friction between myself and the moment. Think yoga on the mat: when the sensations arise in an asana, if we fight against them, it becomes so much harder to bear. As we practice relaxing and breathing with what is, shifting from the sympathetic nervous system (fight/flight/freeze), to the para-sympathetic nervous system (rest/digest), we ease softly into the moment. We literally, from a body-centered perspective, relax with what is and enter the flow state.

And here’s the good part: as we do relax with what it, it becomes easier—it begins to change. The shift happens so much more easefully than pushing our shoulders against the moment, willing the river to flow in another direction.

Most remarkably, from this place of acceptance, action becomes profoundly impactful. Acceptance doesn’t mean sitting still. It means relaxing into what is, and from that connection to the flow state that relaxation offers us, doorways to appropriate and effective action emerge. There is work to do; yet taken from the groundwork of acceptance, everything becomes more possible.

It all changes. It all shifts. The decision is—how do I choose to be with it? If I choose to put on my boxing gloves, then in the ring I will be. If I choose to live from the principles of the mindfulness practices, then on the mat I will sit.

Here are some considerations for you:

• What arena in your world do you fight the most against?
• Breathe and relax—watch yourself without judgment—notice the struggle.
• How might you bring a little more relaxation, ease and acceptance to that struggle?
• What would it look like to live this situation differently?
• What might you learn from this part of yourself that so desperately wants your attention?

Accepting my hopelessness and my despair, as confrontational as that is to my image of myself as the ever-enlightened yogi, is the doorway to change. Learning from this part of me—what does she have to tell me, this despair, this hopelessness? How might I grow and become more of who I am? These are the compelling, powerful, and inevitable markers of transmutation and change.

Opening my front door after the blizzard, I was overwhelmed with the barricade of snow-cement that greeted me. There seemed to be so much to do—it felt impossible. Two days later, here is the same view, from that very same front door: Things do sort themselves out, in its own timing.

Dear Readers, I hope there is something helpful you can take from this week’s blog. Let me know how this landed for you and—almost: happy spring equinox!

All blessings, Aruni

 

With my sixty-fifth birthday just behind me, I felt some waves of giddy excitement. Although I always “looked young”, I now was now officially at the midpoint of my sixth decade on earth. I secretly imagined some gravitas effortlessly spilling off of me. My second book was out; I was feeling positive about my unfolding wisdom and crone-ness. Also, on a more practical level, I was now legitimately an elder in the eyes of our fancy “fresh marketplace” natural food store. The store, which will go unnamed, is upscale, overpriced as well as organically and socially correct. Here I could now claim the bounty of my aging process—that 10% discount on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. It seemed only right. Although I had already received my discount at movie theaters, the validation of 10% here, at this place where I have spent much money, seemed justified. It was my due, on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays, only. It was an absolutely fitting and proper response from the capitalistic system, in response to my entering sage-hood.

It was a Monday. Of that I am positive. I was rushing, not unusual at that point in my life. There never seemed to be enough time to relax into my over-scheduled, juggling of too many balls. I entered “the store” at an auspicious time; not too many customers were ambling up and down the aisles. Into my dainty, consumer-friendly shopping cart I placed the kale (curly-leaf, of course), coconut milk (original, non-sweetened), ground turkey for the canine family member, eggs (large, not the extravagant jumbo), and so on down the aisles I flowed. A few more items found their way into my cart, my energy upbeat, certainly now officially mature and focused. In seemingly record time, I wheeled my cart into the one open register aisle. Oh, not my favorite younger employee was working that register, the blond, thin-lipped young woman with skin coloring that reminded me of Elmer’s Glue. We silently, over the years, did not like each other.

I happily began placing my nutritionally correct items on the counter and realized I now had to announce my 10% benefit. As I tried to recall the words to express my need (senior discount), my mind emptied. I could not for the aging life of me think of those two simple words (senior discount). I got confused and thought for a moment perhaps I was in the Kripalu Shop, where the appropriate discount prompt was, “I am an employee”. I somehow knew, despite my creeping brain fog, that I was clearly not an employee here in this store. Long moments passed as her register clicked away, reducing my announcing time.

Out of nowhere, with all the maturity and focus I could muster, I managed to say, “I am elderly”. I AM ELDERLY. That’s what I said. I am not making this up. The Elmer’s Glue girl’s eyes widened in disbelief. As if her widening eyes could open the floodgates of my hysteria, I started to laugh. I AM ELDERLY. My laughing tumbled into itself, opening up the doors of every giggle, every laugh restricted and contained within my senior body. It was all I could do to remain standing. I could have laid on the floor and wailed with glee and disbelief. I AM ELDERLY. The more I lost control of my behavior, the tighter and more controlled Ms. Elmer became. We were quite the pair, this elderly woman, me, roaring and doubled over with hysteria, partnered with Ms. Elmer, constricting each movement, gesture, and expression.

Somehow, through a grace larger than myself (left to my own devices, I might be there lying on the floor, laughing), I was able to swipe my credit card, officially receiving my 10% bounty. Grabbing my recycled box now filled with healthy and expensive, yet 10% cheaper food, hugging it to my chest in the illusion of control, I stumbled out of her register aisle, toward the door, and tumbling through the electric door and laughing, doubled over my grocery box. I staggered toward my Prius, another politically correct lifestyle choice.

How I managed to turn on the car and drive away from the “fresh marketplace”, I will never know. But I did manage to drive away and head toward my home. Over the next days, I couldn’t hardly repeat this story to my family and friends—I couldn’t get through I AM ELDERLY without wholly and totally losing my composure.

So when you see us senior citizens around and about, be gentle. Be kind. We are doing our best. We are finding our way forward, into the unknown, fumbling for words. We are, in fact, elderly.

What any of this means, how it might reflect on my relationship to aging, I have zero idea. I do know, however, that a great way of staying forever young is to laugh—those snorts, those out of control belly hoots, truly are the doorways to such freedom.

 

Speaking of freedom, here is one of my personal heroes, our Joan Baez, who appears to be living inside the realm of The Elderly with remarkable grace. Singing Bob Dylan’s 1973 song, “Forever Young”, let’s together breathe in the fullness of her benediction.

 

 

*Song written by Bob Dylan, 1973

 

Standing Rock Encampment—Oct., 2016

Standing Rock Encampment—Feb., 2017

I’ve managed to keep myself slightly above the anxiety and angst I experienced during the first days of the new administration. Although it hasn’t been easy, I have created some boundaries for myself about when and how to take in the news. The dance between needing to be informed, while not freaking myself out, has been a fluid balancing act. This last week, however, watching a video of the closing down of the Standing Rock encampment, I fell again into tears of hopeless despair. The structures being burned as part of the ritual of leaving, the teepees, home to so many, now burning and destroyed—the images tore at my heart. “We have lost—forgive us—we have lost”, I kept thinking.

And then I read the words of Rebecca Singer, an elder in the protest, who said:

“Will the pipeline be built? Most likely. Will there be oil spills? Of course. Will species be killed? Yes. Will the Native People suffer? Yes. Will our government help them? No. Does this render Standing Rock a failure? No. People are now aware…. that water flows and that money has a lot to do with it. People are more aware….”.

The purpose has been served.

And where is the grace in not winning?

Everywhere. In every breath and in every heartbeat, there is grace. We, of course, have our preferences, the outcomes we would choose, in all that we do. However, it is not our choice; reality is relentless. We can simply do our best and let go of the results of our actions. Certainly, Standing Rock has demonstrated so much of our best efforts of coming together. And now, the universe has determined the outcome, for today.

The omnipresence of universal life energy, whatever you might call it, is always available to us. The mental constructs of “winning/losing” lock us in to emotional responses that make everything more difficult. Everything continues to change. Perhaps the journey is to simply practice allowing the changes to come and to go. How do we practice being present with what is, allowing reality to unfold, while trusting our capacity to outlive our feelings?

We practice. We simply practice. Not to prematurely transcend our feelings, but to stay present with what is and to feel it unfolding, this is the path to integration and wholeness. The way out of the feelings is through the feelings.

Here are some considerations for your heart:

• Do you have an arena in your life in which you feel as if you really did not win, that the outcome is something you would not have chosen?
• How might you reframe this “loss” as just another step along with journey?
• What tools might you use to practice this?
• Can you imagine some bigger picture gift eventually unfolding, as you continue to hold the posture, being present with what is, and allowing more to be revealed?

Consider the expression, “Time takes time”. Let’s imagine that, in its own unfolding, this moment of time is weaving and flowing forward, with new iterations of grace awaiting us. Let’s practice releasing the dictates of our own mental constructs. Let’s simply practice doing our best, feeling what we feel, and realigning with possibility. Let’s keep showing up. Without magic fairy dust, let’s lean in the direction of possibility as we keep present with what is. Let’s allow the universe to continue to bless us with reality, no matter how it feels.

Dear friends, I hope there was something here for you to take away this week. Please keep me posted—let me know what came up for you.