Well, we did it. We climbed to the top of Croagh Patrick. It’s quite a feat, let me tell you. I’ve climbed many mountains, but this one is truly a pilgrimage. It is so steep for the last third of the climb, that at one point I was climbing with hands and feet.
And, it was truly a once in a lifetime experience to make this ascent surrounded by so many devotees of Saint Patrick.
As is the tradition, some young men were even climbing in bare feet. I’ve included pictures, below, so you can get a sense of just what it might be like to climb this mountain without shoes.
Not only was the scenery simple stunning, the climb itself was hard, as the trail has so much loose rock and the slope is so steep.
We started out with sunshine, but soon the top of the mountain was covered by clouds. From the base to the top, there’s a 2,500 ft. elevation change.
As I wrote in my last post, in pre-Christian times, this mountain was considered to be the mountain of the Great Mother. So as I hiked, I payed homage to both the Mother and to St. Patrick.
I’d love to know:
Have you ever climbed this mountain, or have gone on a pilgrimage to something you hold dear?
“Grace is always falling like rain. We just have to be open to receive it.” ~Amma
Grace is Everywhere
Tenderness, Power and Grace
This is the third post in a series of three: Tenderness, Power and Grace. All three posts are deeply intertwined. They’ve been born from the deepest, most raw feelings I experienced as I let the images of Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani (and the intense feelings of hatred and violence towards women and girls that seem to be so evident in our global community) wash over me.
I sometimes paint with Chris Zydel. It’s process painting, where the process – what happens during the process of painting – is the focus rather than the finished painting itself. On a Thursday, just after learning about Sakineh, I painted this painting, titled Grace is Everywhere. That was three weeks ago. Since then, I have been writing about what I experienced through the process of painting that day: tenderness, power and grace.
For whatever reason (maybe no reason at all), I waited until this last post to include the painting process. In this last post, I’m going back to the beginning. I’m taking us back full circle.
I had been filled with these intense emotions after reading and writing about Ashtiani. At that time, I wrote a post about the power we women have to create change…how the power of our coming together can change things. And, even though I know there’s power in circles and that we can effect change, I also felt powerless to do something myself, something to free this woman from the hands of tyrannical forces that hold such misogynistic views of women, and on a deeper level, powerless to change the way women are disrespected, oppressed and hated, the way children are of such seemingly insignificant worth in a society that seems to value greed, consumption and violence. Power and powerlessness.
The more I sat with these feelings, the more anger, frustration, and futility I felt at a world that seems to not be able to see, really see just how much unresolved distrust and fear there is simmering under the surface between the genders.
The Process…
And so, when I arrived to paint, the process took over as I selected colors for my palette…or, rather the colors picked me: blood red, black, yellow, purple, and gold.
As I began to paint, the feelings spread out onto the paper: grief, anger and rage, powerlessness and power, hope and futility. They flooded the page through the paint.
Big, wide brushstrokes of blood red: stoning, death, power over the powerless.
Bright brushstrokes of yellow: the brightness of hope.
Swaths of black, deep dark black, so heavy they flooded the bottom of the picture: mourning and grief that could only be expressed with a black that was void of all light.
As I painted, I stayed with the feelings that appeared.
Tenderness that is Grace
Then, something else showed up. I felt a tenderness come through, a tenderness that wanted to be expressed differently – through my fingers rather than the brush. Quivering tenderness.
I put the brush down and submerged my fingers in the paint. The black paint along with this beautiful gold paint, a gold that flowed directly from the tenderness quivering in my fingertips. Black for grief and mourning in the immediate presence of the gold of tenderness.
As I painted, I could feel the word grace come forth as the gold began to make itself known on the paper alongside the black. Grace in the middle of death and grief. Then my fingers chose red and gold – grace appearing with power and powerlessness. As my fingers scooped up the yellow of hope, grace came along, too.
Grace appeared with everything I was feeling. It had a distinct ‘feel’ and color to it, as did all the other feelings; but the thing that stood out so starkly to me, was the deep wisdom that arose about the absolute necessity of feeling everything with conscious awareness, without pushing away any difficult emotions or aspects of the experience. Grace was not there in place of the dark emotions, it was there with them, alongside them, intermingling with them.
Grace made itself known through the direct and conscious willingness to feel the entirety of everything, and the depth of it all; this willingness was cradled by the process of painting itself.
Visceral and Palpable
The grace was visceral and palpable, and made me keenly aware of the possibility of knowing such grace in the middle of the darkest of our experiences. Even when things seem most without hope, grace is always present, falling like rain. Grace’s presence is not a question – it is always here; rather, it’s our willingness to be vulnerable in the most raw and uncomfortable places, a vulnerability that opens us like a flower, so that we can receive grace’s shower.
This willingness to see things just as they are, to feel the immensity of feelings associated with all that is happening to our planet, to the human race, to all living creatures can open us to receive the tenderness and wisdom of transformation. This grace brings the sweetest tenderness, palpable in the body and heart, a tenderness that is much more powerful than the tyranny we see today, because it is kissed with the rain of grace.
This willingness to see things just as they are opens us to see ourselves with tenderness, to see the creativity and love that resides deep in the folds of our divine robes of feminine flesh, and to know we are sacred beings with a sacred creativity to be shared. This is the soft power that we are here to bring forth at this time on the planet.
Just as the painting process held this process of revealing, so can any process of expression provide a container with which to know something greater than ourselves. Whether it’s painting, dancing, writing or any of the myriad ways we can express what’s within, whatever we choose can be the container that helps us welcome out what is wanting to unfold. It is being with all that arises, feeling it deep in the body, and allowing its wisdom to teach us a new way.
It helps me to know that grace is with me when I open to seeing what is happening here on our earth, in these places that feel too painful to look. When I know that grace is here, too, even in these places of darkness, I know I am not alone. And, I know the power of transformation grace offers. What if this life force, that is held in these darkest places could transform into light? into the light of awareness and awakeness? In this time of global shift, it is exactly this awareness we must learn to bring to even the hardest things to be with.
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And, what about Ashtiani? What about grace for her, for others who are in imminent danger, others who are oppressed and victimized? I do know that if we’re willing to see directly into these horrors happening right now, if we don’t turn away, we can act in some way that can help change things. If they can’t act, we must. They may have no power, but we do, and our power lies in circles of people coming together.
Perhaps, grace is telling us that things can be different, but it will take us coming our of our own complacency to help change things for Ashtiani and others. Perhaps, this is the message within that quivering tenderness, that our power is in coming together to help support us all, as a global village to change things through a revolution fo tenderness.
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And, you?
This is simply my experience with grace and the dark emotions.
I’d love to know how you’ve experienced these dark emotions, and their power and vast potential to transform.
How do you experience Grace? What wisdom does it bring?
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This is the last post in a series of three on tenderness, power and grace. All three posts are part of the Summer of Love Invitational, where the lovely Mahala Mazerov has invited bloggers to write about loving kindness.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.
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(CNN) — A veteran Iranian human rights activist has warned that Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani, a mother of two, could be stoned to death at any moment under the terms of a death sentence handed down by Iranian authorities.
“Only an international campaign designed to pressure the regime in Tehran can save her life, according to Mina Ahadi, head of the International Committee Against Stoning and the Death Penalty.
“Legally it’s all over,” Ahadi said Sunday. “It’s a done deal. Sakineh can be stoned at any minute.”
“That is why we have decided to start a very broad, international public movement. Only that can help.”” read more at CNN
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It is time to no longer be silent. We now have the Internet and hundreds of thousands of circles of women. It doesn’t matter if your circle is only two women, it’s a circle. And, in a circle there is power. Power to speak. Power to love. Power to make a difference. Power that can be used to make a change in how things have been.
It is time for the way things have been to be over. It is time to stop the oppression of women. We can, and we will, find the solidarity necessary to chart a new course for this new world community.
We are all related. We are interrelated. What happens to Sakineh Mohammadie Ashtiani happens to us. She is our neighbor. She is our sister. She is me. She is you.
Please do whatever you can to raise a ruckus so loud that no one will be able to say we were silent in the face of this barbaric treatment of this woman, and countless other women in the world.
Her children have pleaded with the world to help save her from this barbaric death.
Below are email addresses that are starting points for public pressure that can make a big difference. You can compose your own email or use a suggested email format, like the ones below.
1. Email to Navi Pillay, UN High Commissioner for the Office of Human Rights: npillay@ohchr.org, with cc: to urgent-action@ohchr.org
Possible format:
Subject: Navi Pillay, UN High Commissioner for the Office of Human Rights,
Body: In Iran a woman stands before execution by stoning, and the threat is imminent, according to her attorney. Her name is Sakineh Mohammedie Ashtiani. Her crime is to have committed adultery, according to the public charges against her. She has already been in jail since 2005 and been lashed 99 times. Under that extreme duress, she ‘confessed’ to this ‘crime’.
To execute people by stoning is a repulsive and appalling crime against humanity. I plead with you, Navi Pillay, to appeal to the Iranian Government, and condemn this barbaric death sentence.
Thank you for your immediate attention to this matter,
Sincerely,
[your name]
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2. Sample letter to the International Committee of the Red Cross:
Send to: Florian Westphal (fwestphal@icrc.org) and Dorothea Krimitsas (dkrimitsas@icrc.org)
Suggested format:
Dear Ms. Westphal and Ms. Krimitsas,
I am writing to you with an urgent request that you intervene with the authorities in the Islamic Republic of Iran, who are preparing to execute by stoning Sakine Mohammadi Ashtiani. Stoning is a barbaric form of torture and execution that should be outlawed worldwide. Multilateral organizations have thus far refused to step in. Your mandate encourages your organization to undertake the work of visiting prisoners in situations of internal violence, where the Geneva Conventions do not apply. I ask you to step in and demand a halt to these barbaric proceedings.
All the fear has left me now
I’m not frightened anymore
It’s my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
It’s my mouth that pushes out this breath
And if I shed a tear I won’t cage it
I won’t fear love
And if I feel a rage I won’t deny it
I won’t fear love.
~Sarah McLachlan
Okay. I admit it. Here. To you. Now.
I… am in love with… God.
I know, I know. The ‘G’ word scares people.
I could say Spirit, the Sacred, the Divine, the Universe, Nature. I have and I do and I will.
But, something in me melts when I acknowledge I am in love with God. This isn’t the love I always thought love was; it’s the deep humility and awe I feel each time I experience the love and grace available to me when I’m stumbling out of my own distractedness, and ‘fumbling towards ecstasy‘.
Even as I write the word God here, and share it with you, I can feel old thoughts and feelings of fear creep across my mind. Old feelings brought about by a system that turned God into something I felt I had to fear, because if I didn’t, I would find myself in some bad kinda way.
Last night, Jeff and I went to Inspiration point in Tilden Park, here in the Berkeley hills. We went to mark the Solstice, the longest day of the year, by sitting in nature. You know, the nature that is hills, trees, birds, sun, wind, moon. It’s easy to say, “I’m going to go spend time in nature”, as if somewhere I’ve forgotten I am nature, you’re nature, we’re all nature.
We found a bench where the view didn’t quite catch the sun setting, but we could see its orange glow spreading out across Mt. Tam and the Golden Gate.
From our spot, I breathed in the scent of the wild.
Two red-tail hawks, life mates, followed each other from tree top to tree top. Each time they sang out their tell-tale ‘Screeeee’, and each mate responded to the other, something in me also responded, as if I were also being called by this wild, untamable force that moves both the red-tail and me.
A gopher, close by to my right foot, chewed vigorously on the long grass, causing it (the grass) to disappear down into the earth. She was chewing with such intensity, such wild ferocity.
As the sun set, the slighty-over-a-half moon glowed intensely against the deep blue almost-night sky.
Something stirred deep within me. It always does when I open to the wild forces, the wilderness that we really live in…and that lives us. I am wild and feral, even though so much of my personality was created to keep this bit of reality away from my conscious awareness. After all, if I remember how wild I really am, what will I do? What kind of trouble will I create? What kind of joy might I know? What kind of emptiness and ecstasy might I fumble into? What kind of rage might I feel and express?
This wilderness is God. I know my old fears of a mean, sitting in a throne man, are the lies I was told. This wilderness out there, and in here, are God. This wild and woolly force, which is completely unknowable and yet totally available, is God. This life force pulsing through my veins is God. It is powerful. It is fierce. It is loving.
I can’t say I don’t fear it or that I’m not frightened of it anymore. In fact, the opposite is true. The wilderness scares the bejeebers out of me. But this fear is not the fear I was taught about God. This fear is not about my sinfulness, my automatic ticket to hell simply because I am human…and female to boot.
This fear is that heart-thumping, breath-catching feeling when you know you’re being called to step into the wilderness within, that fullest place of empty that awaits.
This fear comes from my remembrance of wild, of passion, of unleashing. This wild has nothing to do with pretending to be an over-sexed psuedo-goddess that lives to please others. This wild will never be tamed. It can’t be tamed. This wild knows tears and rage. It doesn’t deny them.
This wild is calling me to know the tears and rage that remain buried deep in this body. It is calling me to know the shame and humiliation. It is calling me to know the love and the power that waits, just under the darkest of dark emotions.
All of this, all of everything, all of nothing is God. And even then, I don’t have a clue as to what God is. I just know the love.
And, you?
There is much rage hidden in women’s bodies.
Do you feel rage? Do you deny tears? Do you fear this wildness? Do you fear love?
And, if you are a man?
What can you share about rage? About the wilderness? About your own fear of tears?
That which God said to the rose, & caused it to laugh in
full-blown beauty, he also said to my heart. ~Rumi
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The other day, I had Darshan with Amma. It was delicious because it was filled with laughter…laughter mixed with love.
Amma is a woman, some say a saint, who has given her life to selfless service. She has created a global web of humanitarian services that are empowering women, feeding children, and responding to the immediate needs of millions of people affected by both natural and man-made disasters.
And, every day of her life, she spends hours giving Darshan to those who come to receive it. Darshan is a Sanskrit and Hindu term meaning sight (in the sense of an instance of seeing something or somebody), vision, apparition, or a glimpse. It can also mean to experience a realized Being, one such as Amma.
During her Darshans, Amma hugs you. You kneel down into her lap, and she hugs you. Now, this isn’t just a hug, it is a HUG. Everyone’s experience with Amma is different. Usually, I am simply filled with love.
The other day, it was a hug filled with laughter. As the woman ahead of me was receiving her Darshan, another woman brought a baby over to Amma and the baby began to laugh. Amma laughed. The baby laughed. Amma laughed. They began to just grin at each other, and I was kneeling right in front of the whole shebang as it unfolded.
I just watched the playfullness of the baby, mirrored in the playfullness of Amma. You know how laughter is contagious? Well, the virus began to spread. I reached in for my hug and as Amma hugged me, she was still laughing. I could feel her entire body moving as she heartily laughed. I mean REALLY laughed. And, she has this deep, earthy laugh that makes it all the more compelling. My entire body began to laugh, too. I experienced sheer delight as I was held in the arms of this incredibly strong and lovingly compassionate woman.
Love, laughter and delight.
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This past week, I also spent time with my granddaughter Aveline, and my niece’s twins, Eli and Hannah. Again, laughter. So much laughter at the sweetest things, the simplest things, the most unexpected things. Bugs. Berries. Peek-A-Boo. Dancing when there was no music to be found. Dancing at the drop of a note. Fascination with the littlest details I pass over every day.
Aveline is twenty-one months old, and Hannah and Eli are twenty-months. There is a wonder and curiosity at this age that is totally contagious.
With babies and children, one moment there’s laughter, and in the next, crocodile tears; one moment there’s amazement and wonder, and in the next, the need for a generous, big mama hug. These babies in my life are always giving Darshan.
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Laughter, delight and amazement are qualities of the feminine aspect of life, qualities always available to us all, when we step out of our analytical minds and into the graces of the heart. From here, we can see, know, feel and touch things we miss in the ‘figuring-it-all-out’ places of the mind.
Life is full of so much turmoil right now. And yet, wonder and curiosity, hugs and amazement, love, laughter and delight are here, too. Just maybe, we might find a way out of all these seemingly intractable problems by remembering the innate, spontaneous movement of love that appears when we remember our own innocence and listen for that which caused the rose to laugh in full-blown beauty.
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Life is always offering Darshan. Are we curious enough and open to receiving it?
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And, you?
What Darshan have you received lately? From life? From children? From who knows where?
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This post is part of Dian Reid‘s blog challenge at Authentic Realities. Check our Dian’s blog challenge to learn about discover other bloggers writing about Self-Evidence and Authenticity.
I joined the help haiti blog challenge when I heard about it on Twitter. Kelly Diels decided to ask her friends and colleagues to find creative ways to raise money for donating, so she began this challenge. Kelly suggested we all think about how we can contribute, whether it is a service, our time, or anything else we might think of.
While I instantly wanted to be a part of this challenge, at first I didn’t know how I would participate. As I sat with the images coming from Haiti, I felt overwhelmed at the immensity of the situation. I knew I had to donate something, so I began to check out groups that felt donation worthy, meaning those where the funds would be used wisely.
For me, my donation is something I feel must be separate from my business. I don’t want to mix marketing my work with any donation I might make. It’s just what works for me. I have donated to AARP, which will match any donations made. If you would like to contribute to AARP, too, just click here.
That being said, I know there are some fantastic people who have found imaginative and creative ways to offer their services so that they might increase their ability to donate to a worthy cause. If you’re interested in checking these out, visit Kelly’s blog, Cleavage to check it out.
Thank you, Kelly, for bringing together the Twitter community and finding such a creative way to raise even more money to help Haiti.
“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.†~ Martha Graham
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I have been teaching creativity courses for over six years now. When I share the above quote from Martha Graham with my students, they sit mesmerized by the idea that there is a force that moves through them in such a way, and that their job is only to keep it theirs, clearly and directly. Their job is only ‘to keep the channel open’.
Now, I have experienced this life force moving through me many a time. Sometimes it is like fire. Sometimes it is fluid, like water. Sometimes, it feels more like a pressure that won’t rest until it is released through some physical form such as dance, yoga or sex. Sometimes this force simply wants to feel the warmth of the sun and the cool wash of a breeze. And, sometimes this force craves words. It just wants words.
I have understood Martha’s quote for sometime now. Over the last few days, though, I finally got it in my cells. I awoke during the night with the rush and clarity of this epiphany: my only job is to serve this force.
It’s not that I didn’t get this intellectually before. It’s what I teach. Up until this time, though, I have thought that my ego mind could outsmart this force. I have believed that the juicy ideas I come up with are somehow the fruits of this force. I could see that surrender was necessary, but somehow (and I know this is what the ego is so good at) I kept thinking I was surrendering.
My epiphany: I have no idea what is going to come out of this body as it writes, as it dances, as it does whatever it does when I do my job and serve this force. But, even though I don’t know, and this not knowing can scare the hell out of me, I now know that it is the only real love, the one truth. I only exist because this force has something to express and experience uniquely through this body.
When I write, and I have been experiencing this more and more as I blog each day, what comes comes. Words flow. They string together in unexpected ways, sometimes coming full circle in ways that delight me with their mysterious surprise.
I see images, sometimes. I write the words that express these images or I write the words that simply flow from my hands. As I write, feeling flows. It comes from someplace deep within. Sometimes it moves me to tears, as if I am reading something another has written. Sometimes, I don’t feel a thing. I hit publish. Others read. Some are moved. Sometimes I am surprised by this. Sometimes, I get it because I was moved. Sometimes, I am moved, but others don’t seem to be. I never know. It is a mystery.
I just know I must write. I just know I crave words. I just know there is beauty between the words.
I just know I crave music and an open floor to dance. I just know I must move. I just know that beauty flows from the dance. I just know the dance dances me, the writing writes me.
Best of 2009 Blog Challenge:Â Day 25 Gift. What’s a gift you gave yourself this year that has kept on giving?
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The moment you expect something in return, love dies. ~ Ryuho Okawa
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I love this question, because it guides me back to that which, when remembered, is already giving and is always giving. It is the source of all giving. When we give from this place, we wish nothing in return. It is here that love can flourish.
Remembrance. My soul is always calling me back to remembrance. It is the siren song, the wake-up call of the soul. It compels me, if I’m quiet and listening with my whole body, to remember the love in my heart. It guides me back to the heart, to the innermost heart, back to remembrance of love for the Beloved.
This remembrance of life is the natural spring of gratitude, which flows ceaselessly and endlessly.
This remembrance reminds me to be kind and compassionate to myself, to do no harm to this being, and in so doing, the awareness to be kind and compassionate to others, to do no harm to others, also grows and flourishes.
This remembrance floods all things with love, even those thoughts and beliefs that feel void of love.
Today, on the day of Christmas and gift-giving, when many of us around the world remember Christ, remembrance guides me to remember Christ consciousness (or Buddha, Cosmic, Higher consciousness), the inner heart of being in all of life that radiates qualities of compassion, truthfulness, humility and forgiveness towards all.
The simplicity of remembrance cannot be overstated. It is simple. When rembrance calls you, go with it. Let it carry you back. If the desire is true to remember, remembrance will find you and usher you home.
Day 18 of Gwen Bell’s Best of 2009 Challenge is to be about shopping and spending mad money.
I’m not much of a shopper. I really don’t like it much at all. I can’t spend much time in stores as the experience seems to cause me to leave running for fresh air and green scenery – and, not the green of mad money.
It’s not like I don’t like things. I like them too much. I just don’t like spending time shopping for things.
When I looked back on 2009 to reflect on where I have spent most of my mad money, I realized four things about 2009 and shopping:
1) I began the year with much more stuff than I had in 2008. My mother passed away in 2008. I found many meaningful things that belonged to Mom that I wanted to keep. I brought them home. Over the course of this year, I began to really consider what I own, and how much of it I really needed. I realized, I want to pare down consciously. I’ve got some work to do on this. It’s always been hard for me to let go of things. I seem to bring things in, without taking things out.
2) I became more conscious of the unconscious identity I had adopted (fed my our media and advertising ways) of consumer rather than citizen (shout out to Lynne Twist, author of The Soul of Money), and the effect that has on not only our planet, but our psyches.
3) I noticed I had a pattern of buying things on sale, or things that were a good bargain, rather than consciously choosing beautiful items that I feel drawn to adorn my body and home with.
4)Â I desired to spend more of my money on good, wholesome, organic food, which caused me to spend a bunch of money on food.
So, if I have to be honest about where I spend my mad money, I spent it at Whole Foods. It sounds sort of funny as I write it, but it’s so. Shopping at Whole Foods is much more peaceful and green-filled in a whole different way.
Workin’ on moving from citizenshopper to citizenshipper.
So, we’re half way through December. And, half way through the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge. I’m stoked that ‘ve managed to blog every day of December. My writing muscles are getting a workout, but more important than that, I have found great joy in this form of play and expression. Each morning when I wake up, I’m not quite sure what I will blog about, other than knowing the prompt. Each time I sit down to post, something comes that delights me. A totally unexpected benefit to accepting Gwen’s challenge.
On to today’s prompt, Tea of the Year. I found two. One for the inside, one for the outside. Of my body, that is.
As a recovering coffee/chai addict (who occasionally falls off the wagon), when I discovered Numi’s Ruby Chai, I found a tea I can have that has no caffeine, no tannins, and steeps in milk to produce a deeeeeelicious cup of look-alike Masala Chai.
If you want something to heat you up in a different way, I discovered Ruby Chai Appletini using this tea. Sounds like it might be worth a try.
The other is tub tea. Tea bags to steep in the bath. Now, this find was a product of searching for a baby shower favor that was to be given out at a lovely little tea party we had for my daughter [beautifully designed packaging of 2009].
A lovely way to steep is to soak in one, while drinking in the other. That is tea bliss.
