Real Love

I had a reminder this week from the words of Swami Satchinanda that are worth repeating.  Swami Satchinanda was sent from India to the US by his guru Swami Sivananda to teach us about Integral Yoga.  Swami Satchinanda left his body a few years ago, but his wise words linger on.  This week his words are:

Love the Never-changing One
“Many people say, ‘I love you,’ but is that real love? If it is really deep love, it can never change. It cannot be taken back. By loving, you have given yourself completely; you are not separate then. You become one with the beloved, and you always think in terms of the beloved. You do everything for the sake of the beloved. These days, love is only a desire, a temporary liking; it’s superficial. If the color of the beloved’s hair turns gray, the love fades. If the weight of the wallet is reduced, the weight of the love is also reduced—because this so-called love is based on superficial things. It doesn’t go further deep into the heart, which never changes. You must love the never-changing One in a person. Then it won’t fade away.
“God bless you. OM Shanti, Shanti, Shanti.”

I am sorry to say that I forget this in the heat of my interactions with others, especially my husband.  I am enjoying catching myself beginning to react in the old way, and reminding myself to soften and open and be in love--of course, it works! 

This is the meaning of the yogic "Namaste."
I honor the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light and of peace.
When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me,
We are one.  Namaste

(I'm trying to paste his Weekly Words of  Wisdom link onto my Recommended Links but have so far not been successful.)

Hope

Yesterday was  Father's Day, and I made my husband a card that said how lucky our kids were that he always seemed to have hope, no matter how badly they were behaving, especially in their teen years.  I would be the one despairing and taking the situation at the moment into the future (which predicted a bad outcome).  He would remind me to be hopeful and to think of them in 25 years, that they would be fine--after all they came from a nice home and had us as parents.  (That was my fear--that I was a bad parent.)  My attitude would snag me into over reacting and to anticipating the worst.  His attitude would allow him to parent them with judiciousness, viewing them as whole persons, which meant they would listen to him more than they would to me.  In the Yamas and Niyamas, yoga's ethical guidelines which are a roadmap for living, the first Niyama is Purity.  One of its qualities is to enter each moment purely, letting it have a beginning, a middle, and an end.  I was dragging the past into my moment, as well as jumping into the future.  My husband was more successfully trusting the moment.  I still think our kids were fortunate to have two parents, especially one who felt hope for them and their lives, even when they were struggling and misbehaving. 

"Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without words,

And never stops at all...."

Emily Dickinson

Fiercely Surrender

Today is my 75th birthday, which is a pretty big deal.  Since it's Flag Day, I am posting this in blue.  Flag day used to be on all of the calendars, but that is not so common anymore.   

I had an intesting day.  While lying on my black strip doing yoga this morning, my middle back began to spasm as I was attempting to do bridge pose, and I was unable to do it  Then while walking from my car to my Pilates session, I tripped and fell flat out on the sidewalk, first hitting my right shoulder and then my right knee.  It hurt!  No broken bones!  Several people came to my aid, and I figured out I was hurting, but really OK (no, I did not need an ambulance).  I am grateful they came to my aid, however.  My longtime friend took me out for lunch at my favorite restaurant in the Duluth area, and we had delicious food and good conversation.  I have to admit, I was much cheerier leaving the restaurant than I was entering it.

My point is--how do I navigate this being in old age, while at the same time being a vital and engaged person?  When do I give in and when do I fight to return to my former level of functioning?  How do I do this dance gracefully?  I have found that physically I am not the same person I was even a few years ago--there are just too many changes in my body.  I also notice that my children are more attentive, and I am gratefully accepting this loving change in our relationship.  How do I flow with the changes and move into a new stage of my development?

I realized this is a time in my life when I want to give back.  Erik Erickson named it "generativity."  It's not about "making it" anymore, it's about reaping the harvest.  My psychotherapy practice looks different--it's not so busy and intense.  I am looking at different ways to use my compassion and therapy skills.  Being less busy gives me the space to go deeper into my yoga studies and, I hope, to help others benefit from my explorations.  I am currently preparing my lectures and handouts for  teaching the Chakras at Yoga North, the studio I am a part of.  Each time I teach, I get to go a little deeper myself--what could be more rich? 

Dealing with my physical changes has been a huge challenge.  I want to keep as fit and active as I can, while at the same time surrendering to new limits of what I can do--trying to find the blessing in every step--no matter which part of the dance I am currently in.  My bliss would be to surrender to every moment, finding sweetness in each moment--neither longing for the past nor anticipating the future.  I'm not there yet, but I have experienced this sweetness, so there is much hope! 

May you find yourself gracefully dancing--knowing when to stay and when to yield.

Spanning the Great Divide

I just returned from Boulder CO and a sandplay therapy conference.  We were busy from 9:00 am to 9:00 pm.  The conference theme was Spanning the Great Divide.  Our lives evolve in spirals I think--we find ourselves at an edge, where we're stuck and uncomfortable--we're dealing with the "great divide."  At this place, there is a tension of the opposites (good/bad, male/female, body/mind, warrior/gentleness, water/fire, earth/spirit, for some examples).  We need this tension, because it creates the energy that enables us to make what has been unconscious conscious, and helps us take that "leap of faith" into more wholeness.  As in yoga, can we stay in this place until the blessing/growth appears (Tapas, which means fire, self-discipline)?  A note--I believe we are never finished with this work.  So don't be surprised if you find yourself once again at that hard place--after you've done so much work and grown so much--it's just the spiral of life.  Carl Jung said, "Wholeness is realized for a moment only," but when we experience this wholeness, we feel it and know it.  In sandplay therapy, we describe this as a numinous moment. This transformation requires our total mind - body - spirit.  Our work  asks that we be both flexible and strong and concentrated--that we have flow and balance.  It's a beautiful, if also messy, process. 

Let me know what your experiences have been.