Warren is a quadrapeligic, resting on his back now for twenty-five years, able only to turn the pages of books placed before him on a special book holder. He turns the pages with a slight movement of his lower arm, as his fingers brush the pages.
This is not a feel=sorry-for-me story. It could be but it isn't. I met Warren twenty-years after he had fallen during a gymnastics meet at age 18. With a broken neck, he was paralysed from the neck down.
I unexpectedly wandered into Warren's room at a convalescent home where I had been visiting someone else. He looked up from his book and smiled. "Hi," he said with an even wider smile. He seemed to generate his own energy and life force. Over the years, lying only on his back, he had read all the bibles, the Koran, Buddhist teachings, Taoism, and most literature ever printed. Even Carlos Castaneda.
One day, I asked, "What’s it like for you to be lying on your back for more than twenty years, not able to use your body like all those around you?"
He smiled that smile again....an all-knowing smile. "Oh, I'm not in my body Bruce. I'm in my spirit."
He then handed me a book he had been reading, as a gift. Doesn't matter if you know who Carlos Castaneda was. The title of the book was Fire From Within.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
OUTSIDE THE TRANCE
What's happening in the world in a variety of cities and countries, is also going on inside of us. It is not just about change; it's about breaking the trance of everyday life that we have unintentionally, even unknowingly carried since birth.
The trance, as I see it, assuming I am outside the trance, are all the beliefs that may not be our own, that we have carried with us forever, taught to us by others. Beliefs about women, men, children, education, schools, money, work, self judgment, skin color, religions, relationships, sex, parenting, body size, age, dying, and living.
These beliefs, often hidden by their familiarity, (everyone else does it this way), disguise who we are inside, our passions, our creativity, our essence, and our unlimited ability to care about everyone without judgment of what they wear, or the pain they may carry behind their sometimes disturbing behaviors.
These beliefs, not our own, are revealed by the tension our bodies carry, the symptoms we experience that we call "sick," out of sorts, "it's just the flu, or a cold, or ....." The symptoms are real, and the hurts hurt. And sometimes these hurts and pains and symptoms are the body getting our attention to pay attention, slow down, feel, make contact.....question everything, say hi to strangers, sit down and breath. Question. Look into the eyes of everyone.
The trance, as I see it, assuming I am outside the trance, are all the beliefs that may not be our own, that we have carried with us forever, taught to us by others. Beliefs about women, men, children, education, schools, money, work, self judgment, skin color, religions, relationships, sex, parenting, body size, age, dying, and living.
These beliefs, often hidden by their familiarity, (everyone else does it this way), disguise who we are inside, our passions, our creativity, our essence, and our unlimited ability to care about everyone without judgment of what they wear, or the pain they may carry behind their sometimes disturbing behaviors.
These beliefs, not our own, are revealed by the tension our bodies carry, the symptoms we experience that we call "sick," out of sorts, "it's just the flu, or a cold, or ....." The symptoms are real, and the hurts hurt. And sometimes these hurts and pains and symptoms are the body getting our attention to pay attention, slow down, feel, make contact.....question everything, say hi to strangers, sit down and breath. Question. Look into the eyes of everyone.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
THE ARROW AND JUSTICE
Robert pulled back the bow string, aimed, held for a moment, then let the arrow loose. The metal tipped arrow cut through the dark night air, over the asphalt one-lane road, punching through the plate glass window, glass shattering everywhere,
abruptly ending its 200 foot journey into the wall of the administration building.....Vibrating. Robert smiled.
No one was in the building. It was after closing time. Robert knew that. He just wanted to make a statement. He wanted to get the attention of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He wanted to be heard.
Robert was a twenty-year-old Pomo Indian (Native American), from Northern California. He was not a considered a "trouble maker," by others. He just wanted to get the attention of the all white staff, of which I was one. Robert simply cared about how people were treated....not just himself, but everyone.
When the arrow was discovered the next morning by the staff as they approached their desks, all attention focused on "who could have done this? Are we targets?" Robert's anonymous arrow was terrifying to some, a strong message to others.
Staff meetings were held daily, questioning what inspired the arrow event. Even the native students were asked for feedback. Several weeks of meetings resulted in a new "policy."
Listen to everyone. Honor. Respect others. Hold sacred all relationships. Speak directly to everyone, even if shaking in your boots. Avoid side taking, or gathering evidence that you are right. Be wrong sometimes. Respect every voice, no matter the age, even those you do not understand. Assume you are human too.
Robert was never discovered...and didn't need to be.
abruptly ending its 200 foot journey into the wall of the administration building.....Vibrating. Robert smiled.
No one was in the building. It was after closing time. Robert knew that. He just wanted to make a statement. He wanted to get the attention of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He wanted to be heard.
Robert was a twenty-year-old Pomo Indian (Native American), from Northern California. He was not a considered a "trouble maker," by others. He just wanted to get the attention of the all white staff, of which I was one. Robert simply cared about how people were treated....not just himself, but everyone.
When the arrow was discovered the next morning by the staff as they approached their desks, all attention focused on "who could have done this? Are we targets?" Robert's anonymous arrow was terrifying to some, a strong message to others.
Staff meetings were held daily, questioning what inspired the arrow event. Even the native students were asked for feedback. Several weeks of meetings resulted in a new "policy."
Listen to everyone. Honor. Respect others. Hold sacred all relationships. Speak directly to everyone, even if shaking in your boots. Avoid side taking, or gathering evidence that you are right. Be wrong sometimes. Respect every voice, no matter the age, even those you do not understand. Assume you are human too.
Robert was never discovered...and didn't need to be.
YOU ARE NEVER QUITE GOOD ENOUGH
Linda was a sixteen-year old high school student. She was looking into my video camera lens, sharing her experience and thoughts about school...the entire school process.
Abruptly, she stopped and went silent. "All school teaches you," she said firmly, "is that you are never quite good enough," Her tone of voice was without blame or complaint. To Linda, this was a known fact. The other senior students in the background simply nodded in agreement even though this may have been the first time they had thought about it.
Looking directly into the lens without embarrassment or self consciousness, she continued. She had that ability. In her presence, she always looked directly into your eyes. Linda would have it no other way.
"All school teaches you is that you are never quite good enough." The truth of her words startled me to shut off the camera and absorb her words. Linda shared how the education system is set up to create a ranking system of authority, demanding that the students give up their own authority completely.
Grades and the seeking of approval encouraged the belief that whatever you achieve or complete is never quite good enough, can be improved, and ultimately judged by someone other than yourself." Linda sat down. Shaking with her own awareness and insights, she added one more thing: "Schools are not about education. They are about control." The room became totally silent.
Abruptly, she stopped and went silent. "All school teaches you," she said firmly, "is that you are never quite good enough," Her tone of voice was without blame or complaint. To Linda, this was a known fact. The other senior students in the background simply nodded in agreement even though this may have been the first time they had thought about it.
Looking directly into the lens without embarrassment or self consciousness, she continued. She had that ability. In her presence, she always looked directly into your eyes. Linda would have it no other way.
"All school teaches you is that you are never quite good enough." The truth of her words startled me to shut off the camera and absorb her words. Linda shared how the education system is set up to create a ranking system of authority, demanding that the students give up their own authority completely.
Grades and the seeking of approval encouraged the belief that whatever you achieve or complete is never quite good enough, can be improved, and ultimately judged by someone other than yourself." Linda sat down. Shaking with her own awareness and insights, she added one more thing: "Schools are not about education. They are about control." The room became totally silent.
OCCUPY OURSELVES
I support the Occupy Wall street movement completely. I also support personal justice and fairness with Occupying the people closest to us in our daily lives, especially our families, both intimately related, and all human family, even those
that disturb us. Especially those that disturb us. I want to integrate the one-percent of me that judges and separates the world into bad and good, "I'm right and you are wrong."
Sometimes, committing to change the entire world, government, or financial system, can seem easier than changing our perception of those closest to us, or the stories we carry about them, Finding present-time compassion for our family, non-family, and all those who disturb us, is where the change begins. Shifting our familiar ways to live our relationships, can be the most difficult, seemingly impossible thing to do.... yet ultimately freeing for everyone. Being the change I want to see in others
really works.
We can even occupy our minds, and thoughts, our fears and "justified" blames. We an take charge of how we think about people. Occupying Wall street or ourselves, must happen. This may sound like a lecture...and it is...but I write this to and for myself, as a personal reminder. I am simply sharing it with other occupiers.
that disturb us. Especially those that disturb us. I want to integrate the one-percent of me that judges and separates the world into bad and good, "I'm right and you are wrong."
Sometimes, committing to change the entire world, government, or financial system, can seem easier than changing our perception of those closest to us, or the stories we carry about them, Finding present-time compassion for our family, non-family, and all those who disturb us, is where the change begins. Shifting our familiar ways to live our relationships, can be the most difficult, seemingly impossible thing to do.... yet ultimately freeing for everyone. Being the change I want to see in others
really works.
We can even occupy our minds, and thoughts, our fears and "justified" blames. We an take charge of how we think about people. Occupying Wall street or ourselves, must happen. This may sound like a lecture...and it is...but I write this to and for myself, as a personal reminder. I am simply sharing it with other occupiers.
EVERYTHING / EVERYONE MATTERS
What if everything, just every so-called little thing mattered? What if the children in our lives mattered so much that our every tone of voice and response came from respect, awe, wonder and exquisite sensitivity?
Maybe the essence of all of us, no matter our age, self identity, gender or belief of who we think we are, rests on a foundation of wanting to matter to others. Really matter. Not just pretend, or being nice, but we knew inside ourselves that it mattered that we were in this world, and with the people around us. How would it feel to know we are "seen" by those close to us.....and we knew deep inside ourselves that we mattered, even if others did not see it?
How would we come through for others, show up, be available, care, and feel safe, if we knew we mattered. Not necessarily for our skills, money, or no money, or who we know or how we look, but because we exist. What if I knew you really "see" me inside behind my personality, and sometimes disturbing behaviors.
What would that have been like as a child to know deeply that we mattered? To know that "I am more than a child that needs to be constantly "educated," and learn stuff all the time. Maybe there is a universal innocent one inside all of us, asking only to be touched kindly, held emotionally and physically, and appreciated for being alive, and willing kiss your cheek. Just kiss your cheek.
Maybe the essence of all of us, no matter our age, self identity, gender or belief of who we think we are, rests on a foundation of wanting to matter to others. Really matter. Not just pretend, or being nice, but we knew inside ourselves that it mattered that we were in this world, and with the people around us. How would it feel to know we are "seen" by those close to us.....and we knew deep inside ourselves that we mattered, even if others did not see it?
How would we come through for others, show up, be available, care, and feel safe, if we knew we mattered. Not necessarily for our skills, money, or no money, or who we know or how we look, but because we exist. What if I knew you really "see" me inside behind my personality, and sometimes disturbing behaviors.
What would that have been like as a child to know deeply that we mattered? To know that "I am more than a child that needs to be constantly "educated," and learn stuff all the time. Maybe there is a universal innocent one inside all of us, asking only to be touched kindly, held emotionally and physically, and appreciated for being alive, and willing kiss your cheek. Just kiss your cheek.
Monday, November 7, 2011
NANCY: The Auric / Energy Field
A mother brought her 12-year-old daughter Nancy to see me. Identified as a family therapist, the mother wanted me to "help her daughter with her problems," as the mother described it. Nancy was having a variety of relationship difficulties in school and the teachers thought Nancy needed help.
Into the first minute of the mother's description of what might be wrong with her daughter, I noticed Nancy occasionally looking up from the floor, glancing for brief moments at my head or just above it. She quickly looked down again. The mom continued her story, but my attention was with Nancy and her eyes glancing in my direction.
Gently, I interrupted the mother and asked Nancy if she was seeing something. My tone of voice was more from wonder than probing. "No," she replied, in a soft almost inaudible voice. My instincts led me to ask again. "If you are seeing something, I'd like to hear it." She was silent, staring at the floor.
"Well," she began hesitantly, "I did see something." "What did you see? Whatever it was, I'd like to know." Nancy shifted in her chair. She looked up, almost making eye contact. "I saw a color at the top of your head...all around the top of your head."
"What was the color," I asked," completely fascinated. "It was kinda violet," she replied, as she sat up, making eye contact. "Did you see any other colors?" "Yeah." "What were they?" I asked. "I saw some blue around your neck and shoulders, and green and some red around your heart area......" She stopped abruptly, yet sitting up completely, her face wide open and her eyes locked into mine.
Her mother's mouth was literally wide open, as she stared at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. "Do you know what those colors are?" I asked. "No," Nancy replied.
"You are seeing the auric field, or the energy field that exists around all living things. It is real. Some people call them Chakras. Whatever the name, you see the colors that are the energy field."
Nancy sat back relieved. "When I was six years old," she said, "I told my teacher that I saw colors around her and she immediately sent me to the principal and asked that I be seen by some counselor or something. So I never mentioned it again to anyone. I thought something was wrong with me."
"That is your gift," I told her. Some people can feel other people, or sense hem. Some have your gift. But if you see something that others don't, some will want to know more. Others may be afraid or believe you need help. Nancy's mother reached out and embraced her, tears in her eyes.
The next day, the mom withdrew Nancy from school and found another school where one of the teachers also saw energy fields, studied them and shared stories in her classroom. Nancy was enrolled there. Weeks later, I ran into Nancy and her mom on the street. Nancy was all smiles and life. She stood tall. Only a few inches shorter than me at the age of 12, Nancy initiated a strong embrace. We stood together hugging. Colors all around us.
Into the first minute of the mother's description of what might be wrong with her daughter, I noticed Nancy occasionally looking up from the floor, glancing for brief moments at my head or just above it. She quickly looked down again. The mom continued her story, but my attention was with Nancy and her eyes glancing in my direction.
Gently, I interrupted the mother and asked Nancy if she was seeing something. My tone of voice was more from wonder than probing. "No," she replied, in a soft almost inaudible voice. My instincts led me to ask again. "If you are seeing something, I'd like to hear it." She was silent, staring at the floor.
"Well," she began hesitantly, "I did see something." "What did you see? Whatever it was, I'd like to know." Nancy shifted in her chair. She looked up, almost making eye contact. "I saw a color at the top of your head...all around the top of your head."
"What was the color," I asked," completely fascinated. "It was kinda violet," she replied, as she sat up, making eye contact. "Did you see any other colors?" "Yeah." "What were they?" I asked. "I saw some blue around your neck and shoulders, and green and some red around your heart area......" She stopped abruptly, yet sitting up completely, her face wide open and her eyes locked into mine.
Her mother's mouth was literally wide open, as she stared at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. "Do you know what those colors are?" I asked. "No," Nancy replied.
"You are seeing the auric field, or the energy field that exists around all living things. It is real. Some people call them Chakras. Whatever the name, you see the colors that are the energy field."
Nancy sat back relieved. "When I was six years old," she said, "I told my teacher that I saw colors around her and she immediately sent me to the principal and asked that I be seen by some counselor or something. So I never mentioned it again to anyone. I thought something was wrong with me."
"That is your gift," I told her. Some people can feel other people, or sense hem. Some have your gift. But if you see something that others don't, some will want to know more. Others may be afraid or believe you need help. Nancy's mother reached out and embraced her, tears in her eyes.
The next day, the mom withdrew Nancy from school and found another school where one of the teachers also saw energy fields, studied them and shared stories in her classroom. Nancy was enrolled there. Weeks later, I ran into Nancy and her mom on the street. Nancy was all smiles and life. She stood tall. Only a few inches shorter than me at the age of 12, Nancy initiated a strong embrace. We stood together hugging. Colors all around us.
WHEN DOES REAL WORLD START?
When I was in the sixth grade, growing up in Los Angeles, I once asked the teacher a question. I didn't think it was a special question or anything anyone wouldn't think of.
I had been sitting in classrooms since kindergarten, sometimes six hours a day, for six years, which adds up to about 6,500 hours. Each year, at some point, I would hear from some adult person that I was being prepared for the real world. I never really knew what that meant, nor did I seem to care. It was just a phrase uttered every so often by some taller person.
One day in the sixth grade, and in front of the entire class, I innocently asked the teacher, Ms. Thurber, "If we are always being prepared for the real world, what is this now? Are the past six years not real? Does the real world start after I am 18?" A few of the other kids muttered under their breath, "Yeah, yeah."
Ms. Thurber face appeared to turn a light red. I remember her giving me a long response, as she led me down the hall to the principal's office.....where she suggested I needed to see a counselor. The principal, Mr. Rose, wondered why I would ask such a question. I wondered why I wouldn't.
--
I had been sitting in classrooms since kindergarten, sometimes six hours a day, for six years, which adds up to about 6,500 hours. Each year, at some point, I would hear from some adult person that I was being prepared for the real world. I never really knew what that meant, nor did I seem to care. It was just a phrase uttered every so often by some taller person.
One day in the sixth grade, and in front of the entire class, I innocently asked the teacher, Ms. Thurber, "If we are always being prepared for the real world, what is this now? Are the past six years not real? Does the real world start after I am 18?" A few of the other kids muttered under their breath, "Yeah, yeah."
Ms. Thurber face appeared to turn a light red. I remember her giving me a long response, as she led me down the hall to the principal's office.....where she suggested I needed to see a counselor. The principal, Mr. Rose, wondered why I would ask such a question. I wondered why I wouldn't.
--
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
WHO ARE THE CHILDREN, REALLY?
Who are the children, really? Many of our ideas about children are rooted in the same kind of fear and beliefs that form the artificial division between people of different races, gender and religions...the belief that those different from us, are less than, or in some way, so different, that we tend to marginalize, dismiss and patronize them, if not out loud, then in our thoughts. These attitudes are not naturally occurring in children or us. They are taught.
What would it take to step out of our adult/parent roles and beliefs, to see clearly who children are behind their size, age and appearing to be, disturbing behaviors? We were children once. We noticed how the adults in our lives knew little about who we were, what we knew or how we felt. . It wasn’t that they couldn’t, they just didn’t know how. They too, were following rules and beliefs they had learned.
If we were fortunate, we had at least one adult in our childhood that recognized who we were completely: able to connect with us beneath our size and age. We can be that for all the children we know and live with now
It is ONLY fair and just that children be seen as whole, exquisitely sensitive, wise, highly perceptive human beings that are no less, nor more than the bigger, older people in this world. As we free the children from our fears, we free ourselves. .
What would it take to step out of our adult/parent roles and beliefs, to see clearly who children are behind their size, age and appearing to be, disturbing behaviors? We were children once. We noticed how the adults in our lives knew little about who we were, what we knew or how we felt. . It wasn’t that they couldn’t, they just didn’t know how. They too, were following rules and beliefs they had learned.
If we were fortunate, we had at least one adult in our childhood that recognized who we were completely: able to connect with us beneath our size and age. We can be that for all the children we know and live with now
It is ONLY fair and just that children be seen as whole, exquisitely sensitive, wise, highly perceptive human beings that are no less, nor more than the bigger, older people in this world. As we free the children from our fears, we free ourselves. .
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