Thanks. Yes.

 Massey, our Jack Russell Terrier, is bored. After repeated attempts to get me to play with him, he gives up and settles himself by finding Burren and going in for a snuggle.  This reminds me of a cute phrase my 3yr old grand daughter says when tired or needing comfort- "SnuggaMe." 

Translation: Please come snuggle with me. 

Some days are like that...a snuggle makes life bearable. Kindness is the oil that lubricates the joints of all experiences.  Some days the hardest kindness to give is to yourself.  Last week, I found an intriguing mantra version of a welcoming prayer I've been practicing for some time now.  There are different versions of the welcoming prayer, with different nuances. Some versions teach welcoming the good and the unpleasant in life by letting go of our programs for happiness: control, security, affection, and so on.  I like the psychology and theology involved. 

But, this one is simple. The simplicity draws me as does the self-awareness and self-kindness that is embedded.  This mantra contains four phrases we've all heard.  Every child is taught to express these phrases outwardly, for the benefit of others, but seldom inwardly, toward themselves.  I love the fun in knowing I can say all four phrases as a mantra  and direct them inwardly or outwardly, even pray them both ways at the same time! When you need to give yourself a snuggle, try repeating this healing mantra:

I love you
I’m sorry
Please forgive me
Thank you

I love you.  Imagine saying this, especially, when you are frustrated with yourself or what is presenting in the moment.  I'm sorry.  Imagine treating yourself with real compassion. Perhaps you've created some disharmony, or perhaps life is unbalanced or painful.  You can be sorry for what you knowingly or unknowingly created and you can state your sorrow that you are having to go through this sadness, anger or hurt.   Please forgive me.   You mentally forgive yourself for any digression.  Forgive yourself for any unknowing.  Forgive yourself for not being perfect or understanding perfectly.   Thank you.  Express gratitude.  All things, events, and emotions can teach you.  Sometimes you know what the lesson is, sometimes you won't ever. Either way, give thanks.

 

I love how simple this is!  I used it recently, repeating these four phrases after dog trick class when I felt stupid.  Burren, the border collie mix, was supposed to go 'around' the stool as I shaped this circling behavior with my perfect timing of a 'click' from a training clicker and a treat. Instead, I got confused, my timing was off.  In confusion, she pawed the stool, knocked it over, and bit it.  The more I sent her vibes of  'behave and make us look good' the more she sent  'bite me' vibes back.  I got tense; she mirrored back my tension. 

 

Having a shaming experience is lousy the first time. Reliving it over and over is shame cubed! I knew the trick episode was not a big deal, yet, I stewed on what I did wrong for hours after class, and repeatedly chewed myself out.  I wanted to laugh it off but couldn't. So I just said the mantra.  I love you. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.

 

 Repeating the mantra helped my mind focus on something other than my embarrassed frustration.  I directed the phrases to and for myself, to and for Burren.  I repeated and breathed.  I repeated until I felt gentled. As the phrases sank in, I realized I was experiencing anxiety about another performance that meant a great deal to me. Only I wasn't present to that anxiety yet. Saying the mantra helped me take full responsibility for myself, while loving myself.   I began softening into gratefulness for what I learned, would continue to learn.  Then with humor and grace, I could just let it go. 

 

Thanks!  Yes.  I'll take more of life, please.  The silly, the serious, the shameful and the fun; somehow it all belongs.

 

Burren and I are happily working again.  And, she can easily go around a stool, a chair, even my grandson's huge blue elephant.  She probably laughs as she circles.

Joyfully!
Sharon

 
"To all that has been, Thanks. To all that shall be, Yes. "   Dag Hammarskjold

Just Be Where Your Body Is

I psyched myself to go on this errand.  I usually dislike errands; sometimes I put off grocery shopping until there is nothing in the house to eat except a fridge full of garden greenery.

I don’t want to be in this car running an errand. I want to be writing.  I'm probably not where my body is.  My mind is back at my desk.  This morning I put in my 2 hours of writing and got nothing but drivel.  So the need of groceries couldn’t be ignored any longer.



While driving, I count the gems I’ve gathered today: 

 

1. My Christmas poinsettias still blooming in May, planted in my garden next to  Soapwort and Primroses.  

 

2. Anne Lamott’s Facebook post advising her students on how to write: “you decide to. Then you push back your sleeves and start writing--I.e., scribbling words down on paper, or typing at a computer. And it will be completely awful. It will be unreadable shit!”  Anne always makes me laugh. 

3. The caring of a cyber-sister who encouraged another in our group by sending Pink’s song lyrics: “You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you are wrong. Change the voices in your head. Make them like you instead.” 

4. Another post from The Contemplative Society: “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity. ~ Cynthia Bourgeault”   Someone commented: “And so I'm struggling to know what that means for me on the ground in ordinary time.”  Somehow that makes me laugh too, in solidarity with all the times I don’t get it either.

I love such honesty; let’s call that spade a spade!  I’m equally aware of my conflicting compulsion to pretty that old spade up.  Stick it in the garden and plant a gorgeous flower in front. Or paint it!  Isn’t anything mixed up, confused, ugly or icky more palatable with a colorful layer of spicy paint? 

I ponder the audio book I listening to- The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green, about a teenager with cancer.  I had cancer so I get most of the character’s musings. The poignancy of the story is laced with wonderful humor. Laughter lessens the shock of teenagers dealing with death and suffering, like a coat of paint on the aforementioned spade, transparent paint, leaving the worn out metal shimmering with vitality.

My next thought starts out discontented…a sigh about wishing I could write like John Green…but amazingly I’m interrupted by complete and sudden stillness.  In that instant I’m fully present to the moment.  Everything inside and outside is whole. Perfect. Complete. One stunning moment, thirty seconds long, a blink of pure awareness.

What a gift!  I did absolutely nothing to make that moment happen. “Every moment of conscious presence takes place in eternity.” Cynthia Bourgeault’s statement makes perfect sense!  And it’s utterly confusing. 

Life, meaning, confusion, growth are all such a mishmash. Makes me giddy that perhaps showing up for life, however it happens to be, is enough.

Reminds me of what Martin Laird said in a retreat I attended, “Just be where your body is.”   This continues to be an invitation to me, be at home in my body.  Imagine if everyone would just BE where our bodies are, rather than off to the future or back in the past.  Or wishing we’d be this body or that body.  Laird continued with his gentle advice, “Be where your body is, even if it’s old and creaky or young and creaky.”  It takes courage to be there, emotionally, physically and spiritually, doesn’t it? 

 

 

Sometimes being there means bursting with possibilities, or blooming out of season, or not blooming at all. 

   Make it enough,

        the showing up, 

              doing your beautiful and shitty work, 

                     changing the voices in your head,

                                    being open to Presence…

                    

……….and being where your body is! 

Joyfully,

Sharon