Thankful for Good Friends

Sharon Salzberg tells a story of the Buddha and his disciple Ananda. Ananda asks “Tell me, Lord Buddha, is not half of the holy life having good friends?” Buddha replies “Not so, Ananda, the whole of the holy life is having good friends.”

I was thinking of this on Thanksgiving, when I realized that what I was most thankful for is my good friends. Many of them are new, people I reached out to in the last couple of years when I was having such a hard time. It has been ENORMOUSLY supportive to have these friends, who will come have a cup of tea, and be willing to listen to my grief work and read painful pages from my journal, who will ask me to come have a meal with them, or walk my dog when I can’t. I walk farther when I have a friend with me. I live my life better with all that support.

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Journal Work

(Written in September 2010)
What would it be like if I believed that I was a good person who was doing her best to do good in the world? I can feel an odd softening, almost tingling in my heart. I woke up very tired — I’m having English Breakfast tea — and a little scared & sad which feels like a very low intensity version of “shocked heart.” I try to hold & comfort it but nothing changes. Well, then, I’ll just reassure the baby that it’s OK, it doesn’t have to change, I’ll just stay with it in the fear, and I won’t leave it alone.
Massage was comforting except that the music was ‘Secret Garden.’ I don’t know what it is about that music that makes me feel — what? — sad, lost, bereft, like I don’t belong here — I really can’t find the words. I felt that way all day. Lonely, raw, sensitive, quivering, like very vulnerable parts of me are being exposed to something that denies their existence. It’s not hostility, but indifference, indifference that disappears me. What I desperately want is something warm & grounded that holds me lovingly and comforts me and tells me she’s glad I’m here. “I am glad you’re here, even when you’re scared,” I say to the baby me, and I can feel her relief. Writing it down, I can see that it’s a pretty accurate picture of Baby Jenny in Mom’s energy field. And as I’m writing the description I’m feeling more solid and present and comfortable. I’m pretty sure all those weird feelings are flashbacks. Maybe the hot weather triggers flashbacks to infancy in Cincinnati in summer.
“I’m glad you’re here, you can be as scared as you need to be, and I’ll be right here, I’m not going away.”
I started reading the blog in the evening, when even a puzzle & solitaire wasn’t working, and the blog was comforting. And there’s a chill of fear. It’s OK that I’m finding my own writing comforting, it’s the truth about my life. “There, there, dear, it’s Mom who didn’t like your creativity and your quest for truth. She’s dead. I’m here and I support your creativity and quest for truth, it’s the deepest and most true part of you.”
8:10 heard geese! Went outside, a single skein traveling south.

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More About “Story”

What’s the difference between a story that helps you move on in your life, and one that’s just digging you deeper into the hole? Often a story that blames someone else for your difficulties is one that keeps you stuck. I had a friend who used to go on and on about some people who had moved into her community. She would talk about how awful they were and how afraid she was that they would change the neighborhood, but she just kept kept saying the same things over and over. I got very tired of listening, but didn’t know how to stop her. I also made encouraging noises, hoping she would feel heard and stop, but she just went on & on. I realize now that I could have used Marshall Rosenberg’s Non-Violent Communication. I could have said “I’m uncomfortable listening to this. Would you be willing to tell me how you’re feeling as you tell me this story?” Sometimes telling that kind of story is just an excuse for not doing your own inner work. You aren’t going to be able to change someone else, so it’s important to find a way of taking care of yourself that allows whatever they said or did to just become a fact in your history but not a determinant of your narrative.
The quality of the listening can make a difference. If you are telling the story to someone you know cares about you, and won’t judge you, there can be great relief in the telling, and sometimes you even see new facets of the story and new places you might go. If you are telling your story to someone who has an agenda for you, or someone you know (or just think) is judging you, then the story gains a whiny or intense edge that has you trying to prove something or justify something, and you are caught in the “judgment loop.”
As the oldest child in an alcoholic family I have a tendency to “try to fix it” when someone’s having trouble. This usually doesn’t work, and I was lucky to have an early experience of how compassionate listening works. My friend Beverly was telling me about some difficulty she was having, and I thought I knew what she should do, or maybe I had an analysis to tell her, but instead I kept quiet. Beverly talked her way through the difficulty, which turned out to be something completely different from what I thought was going on. She knew EXACTLY where she needed to go – or found it out in the talking. Unfortunately, that experience as well as early participation in “Co-counseling”, where the listener just listens without offering anything, made me go too far the other way. I have a tendency to listen uncritically, which is fine, but I need to pay attention to my body and speak up when I feel uncomfortable.

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Ritual of Letting Go

Yesterday I did the ritual of letting go at Neskaya. I have a lot of negative beliefs about myself that I had learned from how my parents had treated me: that I was a bad person, selfish, was always making trouble, “thought I was so great” etc. and I wanted to get them OUT of my psyche where they drove me to discouragement and depression. Eight of my friends came to witness for me and support me. I explained about the 4th of July monologue and then read it out loud. I did make some comments, about my inability to use the word “drunk” when talking to my parents, about Mother’s use of the passive voice to avoid responsibility. People were very silent while I read. Feelings came up which was a surprise — I’ve already read it to a number of people, even some who were there, so I didn’t expect to get teary and angry. When I was done I saw that Lee Ann had tears on her face. I was so touched. We hugged.
Then I stuffed the braid of misery inside my sweat shirt and pulled it out, with some verbalizing “Out, out! I don’t want to carry this any more!” When I was done, I said I had planned to burn it, but we saw that the chimenea was dangerously close to some gas tanks for the work on the roof. I told them about my alternate plan to wrap it around a tree and let it bio-degrade. Someone suggested putting it into the compost heap. But the group had more energy and enthusiasm for burning it. The roofers carried the chimenea into the front circle. There were some sticks & small logs inside. I added the newspaper & sticks I’d brought over and then stuffed in the braid. Stephen came with the blowtorch and got it started. It blazed furiously, there were even flames coming out the chimney. We stood around in a circle holding hands. It was very satisfying.

Braid of Misery

Then we went back inside, and I taught “Bound for Freedom”, which I had choreographed to a song by Magpie from the civil rights era. I used moves from Nia, kicks and chops which felt very satisfying. They all did it with me. Afterward, Lee Ann brought out some cupcakes which she had made and decorated – each one different – and topped with birthday candles. She said she had learned that it was important to say our wishes out loud, so she declared these “Unbirthday Cakes”. We each took one, and one by one lit our candles, declared our wishes and blew the candles out.
Everybody came across the street to my house, where we had tea and some food that people had brought, and chocolate cheesecake. I felt so much better than I had in days! A successful ritual!

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Feeling Better

(Written in August 2008)
I felt so much better yesterday! It’s so amazing — to be able to enjoy my ordinary life instead of feeling like it’s an unpleasant chore. There were times in the morning when I could feel unpleasant feelings and scared thoughts and I fastened my awareness more tightly on whatever I was doing — like Lynn Hill climbing El Capitan — and was able to come fully into the present moment and leave the misery behind. I think this may be the gift of the medication. Wherever it comes from, I’m grateful.

It’s so wonderful to have enough energy to enjoy my life, to be able to work in the garden, walk the dog, fix a decent meal. I see that feeling so much better it’s easy to imagine I can do more — part of me still wants to do the weekend with Deena Metzger, but part of me knows it wouldn’t be wise. At least that doesn’t feel as painful as it did.
I’m also feeling better about the money issue, but I see that I simply have to hold hard and not feel I have to keep sending money to causes I once supported. and still think are worth while. I got overextended there for a while — both my time & energy and my financial resources. I was thinking about my pain around dying and leaving Bella to wait for the person who never comes, and realizing that because I know that pain, I’m reluctant to “abandon” anything — even a cause that still has plenty of supporters, even an object that I don’t use any more. At the time I saw it, the insight didn’t help because I could still feel my agonized resistance, but now I’m feeling enough better to say “Right. I can’t support them all. I have to choose which ones are more important to me and let the rest go.” I was telling Kayla yesterday how, when I first got on medication, I was able to actually use the insights I’d gained working with Karen. Before medication, I kept coming back to the same issues and nothing changed because the chemistry of depression is self-reinforcing. Something to remember when next I’m tempted to reduce the meds or take on another project.

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Another Take on Stories

When Jesus Came to Harvard, by Harvey Cox
“…religious stories … point beyond themselves to a crucial dimension of human existence that defies reduction to empirical proof or disproof. Religious stories are often woven into rituals that enlist not just the mind but also the body and all the senses into the narrative. They link individuals and communities to vital parameters of life — pain, death, destiny, meaning, value — in such a way that they provide the most basic sense of direction and orientation. Religious stories cannot be proven to be true or false by either historical or scientific research. They become untrue when they no longer adequately link a person or a people to this ultimate dimension.” p36-7

The importance of narrative — it makes sense of our experience. Good stories & bad stories — how to sort them out? “… we need venues and occasions where we can strengthen each other’s capacity to integrate what is still worthwhile in the grand narratives of our peoples into our own lives. Then, grounded in these archetypes, we can sort out the timeless from the transient, truth from propaganda, that which unites from that which divides.” p45

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Stories

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories recently. Stories that strengthen us, and stories that just dig us deeper into the mud. It’s very important to be able to distinguish helpful stories from unhelpful ones, because it’s the story that we tell about it that makes the meaning of an event and therefore lifts our spirits or drains them.
When I’m feeling really discouraged about what’s happening politically in this country I remind myself of something I heard in a retreat with Jack Kornfield.

The Sarvodarya 500 year peace plan for peace in Sri Lanka. For the 1st ten years we work on helping the conflicting religions to understand each other, the next ten in educating people about the gap between the rich and the poor. Then 50 years of working to close that gap…

It’s good to remind myself that we are here for the long haul, that bringing peace, justice and environmental sanity to our planet is not going to happen soon, there’s too much entrenched fear, greed, hatred, and changing those things can only happen one by one.

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Samhain

Samhain (pronounced Sa-wain) is the Celtic New Year. In the past, this was a time when animals were killed if they couldn’t be fed through the winter, and the vegetation is dead or dying, so Samhain is associated with death. This holiday has been Christianized as “All Saints Day”, but it is more widely celebrated as Hallowe’en – All Hallows Eve. People in costumes of ghosts, skeletons, and witches preserve the tradition that the veil thins between the worlds and fairies and spirits walk the earth.

Dances we did this year include:

Turning Toward the Morning – a dance to Gordon Bok’s song about hope as the winter closes in.
The Shaman Dance, Sacred Spirits – both dances celebrate the presence of the spirit world at this time.
Night Woman – honoring the Crone “Skull and bone woman..”
Hex – a powerful dance of breaking through to a new beginning
Hora Starina – one of those dances that is itself a ritual
The Shift – a dance ritual of transformation.
Omal Red Rain – a simple traditional dance done to a haunting piece of music by Greek, Turkish, and Armenian musicians.


hallowmass, all hallows’ eve, the celtic new year, the time of true beginning when the spirit is freed from material form, the sacred fire bursts the outworn mold and prepares to create anew. to the outer senses, in the visible world, death walks. the killing frost comes, the dry seeds fall, the trees shed their masks and draperies and stand forth with their structure laid bare. the sky reappears in its timeless glory, the gates between the worlds open once more, ghosts and fairies and mortals meet at the crossroads. now we see the death face of the goddess, kali, kerridwen, the virgin mary with her dead son on her lap, the grotesque form of sheila-na-gig, simultaneously womb and tomb.

From The Feminine of History is Mystery, facing page 82

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Somatic Experiencing

(Written in February 2006)
A good session with Peter. Dog barked in the hall and I started telling him about Paula whose dog barks at all hours of the night. I said I couldn’t call the cops on her then, but I could now. He caught the body motion — and suggested I stay with it — a protective fierceness. The “unwobbling pivot” down the center of my trunk, bigger than sometimes and made of bone or some living material. I took some time with it — then he suggested that I either be it, or be inside of it. I could manage being inside, and then was able to relax within that cylinder of protection. I had said earlier something about a baby that should have been protected. There was also a moment of fierce eyes, and practicing fierce eyes, and melting mother’s icy stare with twin laser beams. (With some glee! Peter really supports the glee!) I remembered dancing in the volcano and energizing my aura with anger. I see now that we were practicing a fiercely protective mother who can protect Baby Jenny from her cold rejecting Mom. I can feel that energy activated as I write, I can feel it around me, keeping out cold Mom. Now I don’t feel alone in a cold empty universe. That cold empty universe was Mom not the real universe.

In the S.E. training, they told us that if you were working with someone who had been traumatized in infancy, who had never had the chance to learn to stand up for themselves, the practitioner sometimes had to invoke a “helper” from outside, maybe even a fictional hero, for protection.

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Good Experiences

(Written in March 2008)
At Kripalu. Being on the 4th floor has meant a lot of running up & down stairs. Such a relief to be without fear and without depression.
Yes, I’m taking a break, a break from pushpushpush, a break from making decisions. I feel a very slight quivering in my stomach — perhaps it’s fear that I will miss some opportunity, fail to do something necessary, get completely off the track — and as I write them I can see the childhood conditioning, and also the lack of truth. If I miss an opportunity for something essential it will always come around again. The Universe is always offering me what I need. And as soon as I pay attention, I can see how securely my path holds me. I don’t think there is any danger of straying from it at this point.

As Jane and I came back from our walk, I spotted a wasp in the road — moving very slowly. Obviously he was cold. I didn’t want him to get stepped on, so I picked him (her?) up and put him at the feet of the statue at the entrance. Jane was astonished. I said “I’m a member in good standing of the insect rescue league.” It’s a good reminder that things I do because they are obvious to me can be teachings and revelations for other people.
Danced by the wall during the chanting this morning. Jane was blown away, and another woman came up to me afterward & said how beautiful it was. I told them both it was my spiritual practice. What I was trying to do was reflect the music/chant with my body, and also move in a way that was pleasurable — given that my ankles still hurt, my hip is still sore, and my right shoulder still problematical. So I danced as gently and whole body as I could. (Learned from Nia) Every now and then (the chant was Durga, one I love) I experienced an uprush of joy & expressed it totally & then went back to the gentle rhythmical moving.

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