Finding My Voice

We each have a physical voice, which is the sound that comes out when we speak, and a spiritual voice, which is what we are in the world to say.  In the Eastern chakra system, the spiritual voice is located in the fifth chakra--an energy center in the throat.  In Western traditions it is associated with the Will and calling back the spirit. On the Jewish Tree of Life, it is associated with Judgement and Mercy.

As I usually do, last night I finished writing my blogpost and then I meditated.  I concluded yesterday's post with saying, "I refuse for my conscience to stop working.  I refuse to grow numb.  I know that there is a connection between this behavior and me, and I will do what I can stop it..." I felt strong and "willful" as I wrote. It was almost as if I had been wagging my finger at myself, saying "Enough of this nonsense; you know what you need to do." I ended with a burst of energy.

I begin my evening meditation each evening by praying the Christian "Lord's Prayer" in Aramaic, the language that Jesus spoke.  It is beautiful to my ear.  I have studied it at length, and the English words that we generally associate with that prayer don't carry either the complexity or meaning that the Aramaic does.  So, I say it in Aramaic. I've said it in Aramaic almost every day for close to 20 years...maybe longer.

Over the last few weeks I've noticed that my voice is gravelly when I say the prayer out loud.  I've stopped several times on occasion and cleared my throat, but it continued to be weak and hoarse. Last night was a different story. The moment I started I was almost shocked by the strength and clarity of my voice.  I wanted to look around and see if someone else was in the room.  No.  Just me. Strong, willful, and confident me, calling back my spirit.

This morning I looked back over the notes from my early January retreat at those I'd made from Caroline Myss's book Anatomy of the Spirit, in which she writes about both the chakras and the parallel meanings in Western religions.  For the Fifth Chakra, my notes say "Every choice we make, every thought and feeling we have is an act of power that has consequences."  It seemed to me that what I wrote last night was a kind of line in the sand about what I would and would not do or allow in the world around me.  That choice was an act of power indeed.

I chatted this morning with the woman friend with whom I'd protested yesterday, and I shared how overwhelmed I'd felt.  She gave me a wonderful metaphor.  She said she thought of herself as just one Lego in a much bigger Lego structure: together we are building something much bigger.  Ah, yes, together we are something much greater.

I've been very independent and strong in my life. In some ways that has served me well. I've been able to feed and house myself and plan for my future.  I take my spiritual growth, my soul's intentions and commitments, and my integrity very seriously.

Yet I must also own that I put a lot on myself.  My friend gave me the lens of interdependence and what we can do together.  That is not something I've been good at. Being part of something bigger, much bigger.  Today I did a few little things, and I didn't worry that they were little things.  I was just doing my part; even though I might have put the bar higher, I believe that is all I am asked to do.

As I think back over the spiritual lessons of the last few days, and my commitment to make the next part of my spiritual journey be about the more pleasant lessons, I am certain that learning the lesson on interdependence will be a big one for me.

Just Keep Showing Up

I wrote yesterday's post--90% is just showing up"--immediately before going to bed, as I often do. You might say I slept on it.  In this morning's meditation, it came that there is no where that "just showing up" is more important than prayer and meditation.

Spiritual teacher Caroline Myss has spoken about our "prayer bank accounts."  My understanding of this concept is that we show up every day (preferably at the same time) to either pray or meditate, or some combination.  We show up even when we have nothing to pray for or about.  We just do it. Day in, day out. The term "practice" is often applied to our spiritual development because like a sport or a musical instrument that we are learning, we do it every day to get better at it.  We develop spiritual "muscle" that we can call on when we least expect it.

Myss says that if we make these daily deposits to our "bank accounts," then some day, when we really need to pray for or about something, we have a relationship with whatever we call the listener on the other end of the line when we commune in that way.  We don't need the kind of small talk that we usually use to get to know someone; we already have an intimate relationship.  We can go deep...fast.

In my meditation this morning what kept coming up was that I haven't been so good in recent years about that regular practice.  As I sat, I pictured myself in a workshop years ago when we stopped and meditated.  Afterward, the leader said that she'd been doing that for years, and she'd never seen anyone settle into their meditation as quickly as I did. At the time, I'd been writing Leading from the Heart, and I began each day by meditating at least an hour a day and sometimes up to three.  I'd meditate until I was inspired to write; then I'd get up and let the words flow through me. The point is that the practice I'd been building paid off in the workshop.

In recent years, there have been many days when I neither prayed nor meditated.  Other days I fell asleep as I tried to meditate.  Some days my prayers were one-liners: "Please guide my work today to the Higher Good."  My prayer muscles have gone soft.  But every day this year--all 12 of them, and twice a day since my retreat started. I've taken time to sit with God.

In the beginning I was very fidgety.  Sometimes I'd think I had been sitting a while, only to open my eyes and discover that only three or four minutes had passed.  I started setting the timer on my iPhone for 20 minutes.  When I would think I'd been at the practice forever and the timer hadn't gone off, I'd look to see if I'd forgotten to start it.  I had.

This week, I've noticed that the flow is much easier.  I actually pray and meditate for the full 20 minutes, and the timer goes off before I look.  Yeah!  I notice the breathing is more natural, and I easily get insights like the one today about just showing up for spiritual practice. Floating in gently like a feather, totally without the labor I experienced even two weeks ago. I believe Myss would say that I am making deposits to my prayer bank account.

I fully understand that it is the beginning of a new year, and many people start new things as resolutions.  I haven't been one of them.  I have usually taken some time at the New Year to reflect and assess how I'm doing at moving toward my intentions.  Then, I've made the effort to course correct.  I'd like to think that is what I am doing now.  I've shown up to write this blog every day.  I've exercised at least 15 minutes, and today, thanks to a social event away from the Metro, I hoofed 75 minutes on a springlike January day in Washington.  And, I've shown up for spiritual practice every day. Each of these things are getting easier each day that I do them.

When I am back to work, I understand that it will be harder, but now that I think about it, I am sure that these three practices are more important than anything else I could do for myself. Maybe that's been part of my problem in the past: I have thought that showing up for others was more important than showing up for things I do for myself. (That sounds like another post.) Not something I've been good about in the past, but it is a new year, and each is a new day in which I can just keep showing up.