In her popular book The Hero Within Jungian psychologist and writer Carol Pearson wrote about a lifelong journey through several archetypes--the innocent, the orphan, the magician, the wanderer, the martyr, and the warrior. Each archetype teaches us a lesson. For instance, the Warrior archetype teaches us the spiritual lesson of power, and the Wanderer shows us clarity.
Pearson describes our journey as a wheel, and life takes us through each of these life lessons several times. During each successive turn of the wheel, we are to master a more spiritually evolved degree of the lesson. For instance, I believe (I hope!) that I am now ending a turn at the Wanderer archetype. During the first pass through the Wanderer archetype we feel isolation, even alienation. In the second turn of the Hero's Wheel, we embark on a quest, flee captivity, and find treasure within ourselves. When we traverse Wanderer territory the third time, we discover to be one's Self and to have love and community.
Since these turns of the wheel may be decades apart, at first the archetypical spiritual lesson may feel new and foreign, but my experience has been to fairly quickly recall the lessons that we have already learned as we struggle to master the next level assignment. Passage through each archetype may take months or even years, but I have felt a blinding moment of Truth in which I finally "get it," and then I am free to move on to the next lesson. And, yes, if we are conscious, there is always "the next lesson" in yet another archetype.
I have certainly experienced what Pearson describes. I can look back at periods in my life and recall which archetypical spiritual lessons I was working on at different times. However, I have also experienced a similar or parallel process. For lack of something better to call it, let's just describe them as lapses into and out of spiritual amnesia. I suddenly think that I have had an epiphany: I see some aspect of the world in a different way. I am awash with spiritual liberation, as if I have just broken free of the bonds of some aspect of ignorance. In that moment I feel like God has pulled back the veil of the Universe and allowed me to peek at how it all works.
Yesterday I wrote about using Sister Joan Chittister's description of contemplation as seeing the world as God does. In my meditation I placed myself in the position of looking at me as if from God's perspective where I was able to see my struggle as a device to gain strength for whatever is next.
This morning I took Chittister's wisdom more literally. As my contemplation continued, as each thought or person bubbled into my awareness, I stilled my mind of its normal chatter and tried to see the person as God would. Suddenly, I thought: that is the point--to see each person as a child of God. Almost as quickly, it occurred to me that to see each person as a child of God will require continuous contemplation. My meditation cannot be 20 minutes set aside once or twice a day, but instead it must become a constant exercise of looking at the person in front of me at any time as if from God's eyes.
What a breakthrough, you may think. Sadly, it is not. Only a reemergence from spiritual amnesia for the umpteenth time. Probably the favorite speech I ever gave was about just this practice. Although I composed the speech in the early 2000s right after finishing The Game Called Life, "The Walk of Faith--Living a Prayer in the Real World" felt to me at the time as an outline for yet another book. "Living a prayer" described the continuous contemplation required to live in complete consciousness.
A few years earlier I had a related epiphany that the only way we as human beings have to know God is through other humans who so reflect the presence of Love that we can feel the Universe through them. During that period I would look for opportunities to visualize myself allowing God to use me as a human vessel for allowing those around me to know that complete feeling of Love that is God. I believe that is one of the most important lessons that the spiritual teacher Jesus was attempting to share with us as he allowed us to know God through him.
These are three distinctly different periods during which I clearly knew different aspects of the lesson that I seemed to discover anew today. Why, then, can I not seem to remember it? Maybe more accurately, what causes me to forget? Most importantly, how can I assure that I do remember for more than days or months but for the rest of my life? Sometimes my spiritual learning feels like the movie "Groundhog Day," in which every day was just the same with no forward movement. I am ready to move on from spiritual stuckness.
I ended the "Living a Prayer" speech by saying there is a ribbon of love that connects all of us, heart to heart, around the world. The ribbon of love can be activated by each of us, but if any of us fails to do our part, a short circuit occurs which stops the flow of love. Whenever someone crosses my path, it is my responsibility to activate the flow of love. For years I've talked about being response-able, which implies being conscious of choosing the response I want to send into the world. I want to choose love. I want to have the force of love that is God reflected from me to everyone I meet.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Saturday, June 4, 2016
Contemplation
A story bubbled up several times in my meditation today that I remember hearing years ago. A baby chick was struggling to break free of the egg shell in which it had been gestating. Tap! Tap! Tap! Its little beak hit the inside of the encasement. Tap! Tap! Tap! Finally, a tiny crack appeared. For hours this process continued, and at last the tiniest of holes appeared, and the beak could be seen as it worked to broaden the opening.
A well-meaning human observer thought he would help the chick so he broke the shell open to liberate the baby bird. Very shortly after breaking the shell open, the baby bird died. Apparently, process of fighting its way out of the shell develops the bird's lungs sufficiently that it will be able to sustain respiration when it finally emerges from the shell. By breaking the encasement open for the chick, the human helper robbed the baby bird of the work which would allow it to live.
During an interview a few months ago on Oprah's "Super Soul Sunday," author and philosopher Sister Joan Chittister described "contemplation" as "seeing the world as God sees it." I am in a period of transition, and sometimes it has felt to me like I am that baby bird, attempting to break free of the shell, or in my case the box, in which I've been trapped.
As the story of the bird breaking free drifted into my awareness today, I thought that God must be watching me struggle to break free, all the while knowing that the strength I gain in the struggle will be what enables me to thrive in whatever comes next.
An Eastern adage, from the I Ching if I remember correctly, advises that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. My own experience is that when a student is ready, many teachers agree. Everywhere I turn a lesson will be repeated for me until I "get it."
I am certain that it was not a coincidence that I ran into someone yesterday, who is a reader of this blog. As she walked toward me, she said, "No blog posts!" I gave the feeble excuse about my job consuming me that has become old and pathetic even to me.
Then I shared that I had given notice that no later than the end of the summer I was leaving the job with which I've struggled. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, "We've all been watching you struggle and wondering why you don't just get out of there." Once again I could imagine myself like that bird, struggling to break free.
As I contemplated the image of the bird struggling to develop its lungs so that it can sustain respiration outside the egg shell, I was able to see my life in three distinct phases. In two, I struggled significantly. In the third, between the periods of struggle, my life flowed like a daily miracle.
I thought about God watching me and wondered what had flipped the switches from struggle to flow and back to struggle again. Yet I saw no sign posts that pointed and said definitively, "This is what changed it," in either direction. However, from the perspective of looking at myself in those three distinct phases, I was struck that during the struggling phases I excelled as using skills I'd developed at doing work I didn't particularly like, but because it was valued by my employers and/or clients, I performed the work for money. It was usually important work that helped people, but it wasn't my work.
In the miracle phase, from early morning until I often fell into bed exhausted from a vigorous evening of dancing, life flowed from my natural gifts and talents. I embraced every moment of life passionately. Again, I performed important work that helped people, but in the miracle phase, it was my work.
While the most popular coach training and certification, both of which I have, requires that coaches work with their clients to set specific, measurable, achievable goals, during the period of my life which flowed easily I allowed my life to be led by intentions, instead of goals. Deep inner knowing guided me on mysterious journeys, which I could not have imagined from my wildest goal-setting mind.
One measure about which I have written in this blog previously is the intention to follow "life." To ask myself, "Does this bring me to life? Does it bring life to me?" If it "flips my switches," then it is almost certainly a path I should follow, and if it doesn't, that also is good data--information that I should walk away from that opportunity.
When my life was flowing, I didn't live by a goal to be a certain level in the company, revenue level in my business, or make a certain amount of money. I lived by the intentions from The Game that brought me to life. In my current struggled, I've focused too much on being of service (and I am certain that I have been of service,) to the neglect of the lessons I needed to learn and using my real gifts and talents.
In this moment of contemplation, I believe that I finally can see Kay as God sees her. After years of watching my struggle, this morning I am certain that God displays a broad grin, knowing that I have finally developed the strength to sustain me when I break out of my shell. What allows me to thrive is truly being who I know I am in my heart.
A well-meaning human observer thought he would help the chick so he broke the shell open to liberate the baby bird. Very shortly after breaking the shell open, the baby bird died. Apparently, process of fighting its way out of the shell develops the bird's lungs sufficiently that it will be able to sustain respiration when it finally emerges from the shell. By breaking the encasement open for the chick, the human helper robbed the baby bird of the work which would allow it to live.
During an interview a few months ago on Oprah's "Super Soul Sunday," author and philosopher Sister Joan Chittister described "contemplation" as "seeing the world as God sees it." I am in a period of transition, and sometimes it has felt to me like I am that baby bird, attempting to break free of the shell, or in my case the box, in which I've been trapped.
As the story of the bird breaking free drifted into my awareness today, I thought that God must be watching me struggle to break free, all the while knowing that the strength I gain in the struggle will be what enables me to thrive in whatever comes next.
An Eastern adage, from the I Ching if I remember correctly, advises that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. My own experience is that when a student is ready, many teachers agree. Everywhere I turn a lesson will be repeated for me until I "get it."
I am certain that it was not a coincidence that I ran into someone yesterday, who is a reader of this blog. As she walked toward me, she said, "No blog posts!" I gave the feeble excuse about my job consuming me that has become old and pathetic even to me.
Then I shared that I had given notice that no later than the end of the summer I was leaving the job with which I've struggled. I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, "We've all been watching you struggle and wondering why you don't just get out of there." Once again I could imagine myself like that bird, struggling to break free.
As I contemplated the image of the bird struggling to develop its lungs so that it can sustain respiration outside the egg shell, I was able to see my life in three distinct phases. In two, I struggled significantly. In the third, between the periods of struggle, my life flowed like a daily miracle.
I thought about God watching me and wondered what had flipped the switches from struggle to flow and back to struggle again. Yet I saw no sign posts that pointed and said definitively, "This is what changed it," in either direction. However, from the perspective of looking at myself in those three distinct phases, I was struck that during the struggling phases I excelled as using skills I'd developed at doing work I didn't particularly like, but because it was valued by my employers and/or clients, I performed the work for money. It was usually important work that helped people, but it wasn't my work.
In the miracle phase, from early morning until I often fell into bed exhausted from a vigorous evening of dancing, life flowed from my natural gifts and talents. I embraced every moment of life passionately. Again, I performed important work that helped people, but in the miracle phase, it was my work.
While the most popular coach training and certification, both of which I have, requires that coaches work with their clients to set specific, measurable, achievable goals, during the period of my life which flowed easily I allowed my life to be led by intentions, instead of goals. Deep inner knowing guided me on mysterious journeys, which I could not have imagined from my wildest goal-setting mind.
One measure about which I have written in this blog previously is the intention to follow "life." To ask myself, "Does this bring me to life? Does it bring life to me?" If it "flips my switches," then it is almost certainly a path I should follow, and if it doesn't, that also is good data--information that I should walk away from that opportunity.
What I believe to be life's intentions were detailed in my book The Game Called Life. These are intentions that I say are written on the back sides of our hearts and were designed to be our internal compasses:
1. Lessons Learned--Will this help me learn a lesson that my soul needs to learn in this life? Or is it a lesson the world needs me and others to learn at this time to evolve humanity?
2. Develop skills and talents--Am I using the unique skills, talents and gifts that I was given for this journey to help me serve the world?
3. Do work put in front of you—What is the purpose for what you are doing at this moment? How will what you are doing serve to make the world a better place?
When my life was flowing, I didn't live by a goal to be a certain level in the company, revenue level in my business, or make a certain amount of money. I lived by the intentions from The Game that brought me to life. In my current struggled, I've focused too much on being of service (and I am certain that I have been of service,) to the neglect of the lessons I needed to learn and using my real gifts and talents.
In this moment of contemplation, I believe that I finally can see Kay as God sees her. After years of watching my struggle, this morning I am certain that God displays a broad grin, knowing that I have finally developed the strength to sustain me when I break out of my shell. What allows me to thrive is truly being who I know I am in my heart.
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