Day 1 of the Baha'i fast ended tonight at sunset, and although I had an amazing prayer time at dawn this morning and an extremely productive day, I was, nevertheless, very ready to eat come sunset. I find that the first few days of the 19 day fast are really tough, and today was no exception. By late morning I already had a headache despite having a good breakfast and four large glasses of water before sunrise (which, come to think of it, may be why I had a headache...)
Tonight we had a devotional gathering at our home. The topic was the blessings of sacrifice. I recall that when the woman in our group who came up with that theme suggested it when we were coming up with monthly themes many months ago, I felt myself physically recoil for some reason. So I have to admit that I was not sure how tonight was going to go.
As it turned out, there were only four of us at the devotional tonight (which meant we were left with most of a pie and almost an entire quiche in the fridge, in a household with three people who are not eating during daylight hours for the next 18 days....someone please come raid our fridge!) and my mom came up with a wonderful program with readings that approached sacrifice from many different perspectives. She then led a discussion about instances that we could recall in which we sacrificed something in the short term that ended up resulting in unforeseen blessings further down the road. The discussion was an interesting one, and the other two participants said that they probably do make sacrifices on a regular basis, but that they do not feel that they are making sacrifices at the time that they are making the decision to either do or not do something.
Given that what is most present in my mind and heart at the moment is the decision of whether moving back to PEI, whether it be for a year to house sit for a friend, or beyond, is the right thing for me right now, I started reflecting on my six years on PEI, and how tough those years were for me socially. I met many fantastic people who are lifelong friends, but I did not not have the close circle of friends that were close to me in age that I had grown accustomed to having before moving to PEI. I was very conscious of this the entire time I lived on PEI. It meant that in the evenings I was usually home reading a book or writing. Not being a drinker, the bar scene was not for me, and I just never really found a group of like-minded folks my own age. I did not really mind, but of course it meant that I spent a lot of time alone over the six years that I was living on the island. I enjoy alone time, but I also really love the company of friends. I am generally quite social. So learning to adjust to so much time alone was definitely a challenge for me -- one which I am not entirely sure I ever fully conquered. Living on PEI, I felt as though my social life was definitely an area in which I had to make sacrifices.
There were other things on PEI that I loved though. Things that made it all worthwhile for me. The beautiful beaches and natural areas that I could get to easily in short periods of time. The farmer's market, which I adored. The trail right across from my house that I ran on regularly. The close proximity to farmland that I could spend full days on planting, weeding or harvesting crops. The community of amazing people who shared things with me that I would never have learned if I had been limiting my social life to my peers. People who had the skills to build their own homes, haul their own firewood out of the forest and chop it up themselves, and grow their own food. I really valued being surrounded by such skilled people, and I hope that some of their do-it-yourself mentality rubbed off on me, because Prince Edward Islanders are definitely empowered people. I also valued that the bank clerks knew me by voice, so that when I would call in they knew who was speaking. The tiny yet huge details of a small town that are lost in a large city.
I have been thinking a lot about whether I might take one of my best friends up on her offer to house-sit for the year that she is away working in France. Part of me is jumping with joy at this offer. The part that misses the natural environment on PEI like crazy, and that still gets tears in her eyes when she talks about pretty much anyone in my closely-knit community. It is amazing to me that although it has been over a year since I left the island, I still think of everyone there as my community and family, and miss their presence in my life deeply every day. I guess that is what happens when you open yourself to a place completely. It comes rushing in, and becomes an integral part of who you are.
I am not at all settled in California. I am constantly looking for work elsewhere, and hoping that I will find work that will enable me to relocate to the Mediterranean or Central America. But over the last few months I have been working really hard at my writing, and I am finally starting to make some progress. This week I sent off three article pitches to magazines, and I am now writing tea descriptions for a tea company that, interestingly, is back on PEI. I am also in the process of talking to a friend about interviewing her for an article about a very interesting project she is working on in Mali (which I will share with you once it is done!) I have a large group of friends that I socialize with regularly here. I am loving my regular runs in the park near our house and my yoga practice, which helps keep me grounded. I am heading off to the Dominican Republic to build a gravity-fed drinking water system for cocoa farmers in a few weeks. And I am hoping to be able to spend a week or two in Portugal this summer. Things are definitely looking up.
So when I got the news that this spring may be one of my last chances to move back to PEI and re-establish myself before my visa expires late this summer, it is understandable that I would feel conflicted. I left PEI for a social life and to pursue my own writing career. Now both of these things are taking off, but I am missing my closely knit small rural community. There has to be a balance somewhere, it seems. I have just not found it yet.
So when we were talking about sacrifice tonight, I found it ironic that back on PEI I consciously sacrificed a more active social life in order to live in a beautiful, small, rural community; and now that I have the social life, by choosing to remain here, I am also choosing, at least for the time-being, to live in a big, noisy city in which I have to worry about personal safety, rarely get to see the stars, and do not even know the names of the couple that live next door. The topic of sacrifice was chosen because of the Fast, but it has much further reaching relevance to my life as a while right now.
It is getting late, and I have to be up at dawn, so had better turn in. I am heading to bed thinking about sacrifices. The ones I make. The ones I am not willing to make. The ones I was willing to make in the past, but am not entirely sure I am still willing to make today. Reflecting on sacrifice brings priorities and dreams in life bubbling to the surface. Priorities and dreams that I know I have to be true to, even if it means I have to make painful sacrifices.
What are your thoughts on sacrifice? Are there any sacrifices that you have made (perhaps without realizing it at the time) that have resulted in blessings in the long-term?
About Me
- RoutesofPresence
- Born in the US, raised on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus, lived in Italy, the US, and Canada. Lover of language, travel, colour, and the natural world.
Showing posts with label Baha'i. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Baha'i. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
The beauty of diversity. The diversity of beauty.
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| A diverse and beautiful little garden at the bottom of the Baha'i terraces on Mount Carmel, Haifa, Israel |
"Then will aggression crumble away, and all that maketh for disunity be destroyed, and the structure of oneness be raised--that the Blessed Tree may cast its shade over east and west, and the Tabernacle of the singleness of man be set up on the high summits, and flags that betoken love and fellowship flutter from their staffs around the world until the sea of truth lift high its waves, and earth bring forth the roses and sweet herbs of blessings without end, and become from pole to pole the Abha Paradise." -'Abdu'l-Baha
Here is the second reading that I loved:
"O Thou Compassionate God! Bestow upon me a heart, which like unto a glass, may be illumined with the light of Thy love, and confer upon me thoughts which may change this world into a rose-garden through the spiritual bounty. Thou art the Compassionate, the Merciful! Thou art the Great beneficent God!" -'Abdu'l-Baha
You are going to have to use your excellent powers of imagination to visualize the beautiful borders that surrounded these quotes. The women who prepared the readings for tonight's devotional took great care that the presentation of the readings, as well as the words themselves, was beautiful. Each quote was printed on a separate card, and each one had a unique, decorative border. We also had music throughout the program, and live piano at the end.
Another thing that made our "women's devotional" gathering beautiful tonight was the presence of two men! What started off as a mis-communication, led to a man who lives in our neighbourhood turning up at our thus far women's gathering! We used his presence as an excuse to get my father out of his music studio and into the gathering with us. Initially I could tell that a few of us were not sure how this was going to turn out, and whether we would prefer the atmosphere that having a gathering of women created, but as soon as we started, it became quite clear that this was going to be a wonderful evening, and that the presence of two men was going to make it far more beautiful than if it had just been us ladies!
After reading our quotes, we started talking about the ways in which beauty is manifested in the world. I talked about farming and gardening, and the beauty in diversity found in a garden. Cesar, the fellow who joined us this evening, talked about diversity in humanity, and how beautiful the idea of being able to come together despite all of our differences, and work towards common goals together was to him. Jess, a young woman who just started community college, talked about the beauty she sees in nature, and how it is the beauty that is untamed, unaltered, and often kind of unexpected and imperfect that attracts her. Pat, another friend, shared the idea that virtues like love and compassion and joy are like magnets, attracting people towards them, and how beautiful people are when they are practicing virtues in their lives. My dad mentioned how virtues are like an international language that work in every culture. He gave the example of patience, and said that patience is patience in North America, Japan, India, South Africa...spiritual virtues are like a common currency because they speak to us at the level of the soul, which we all share in common.
At the end of the night my dad was coerced into playing an original composition that he had written on the piano, which, of course, was a truly sublime way to end the devotional portion of the evening! He told us, when he finished playing, that he had been at a Baha'i house of worship in Germany many years ago, and fog had been settling all around the building he was in, and how beautiful it was to watch how it covered and then uncovered the landscape, trees and people outside. Just as he was having that thought, he noticed that there was a piano sitting in front of him, and so he sat down at it and composed the song that he played for us tonight. The story made us all smile, because it left very little doubt about the fact that this song was intended to be written. Cesar was especially moved, and mentioned how well the melody captured the magical sensation of fog moving in over the landscape. I have heard my father play this song many times, but I had never heard the accompanying story about how it was composed.
Our lively discussion continued after the closing music, into the social time. We enjoyed cake, cookies and quiche from the Freeport Bakery, and some lovely Darjeeling and apricot black teas that my mom bought today at Tea Cozy. It was a superb evening.
I am sitting here now thinking how invigorating it is to come together and share spiritually inspiring readings, reflections and discussion. How refreshing it is to engage with a group of people at such a deep level, and how centering a gathering around such depth of connection creates such an inspiring spirit of community and joy. I have been having a really tough week, and feeling very isolated and disconnected from community, but our devotional tonight gave me the gift of community and friendship. I am feeling grateful for this beautiful evening, and looking forward to our next devotional gathering, which will be on the theme of hope. I suggested hope because, having been in Canada for the past six years, I always found February to be the toughest month, because it felt like winter was never going to end. Here the idea of mid-winter depression makes me smile, because the weather is so mild, but the Californians in the group nodded knowingly at the idea that we were in the heart of winter, and how far off spring seemed, so even though it feels like winter has not started to me, the theme seemed to resonate for them also. I guess our experience is all relative to what we are used to.
Another thing I am thinking about is how happy I am that we had the men join us this evening. It added so much unexpected beauty to the evening. I loved how flexible and open the women were to having our group change shape for the night, and I am kinda hoping the gentlemen join us again next time!
What do you associate beauty with? What in your life is an expression of beauty? How do you nurture beauty in your surroundings and relationships?
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Reverb10, Day 29: 'Abdu'l-Bahá's North American boots
Prompt: Defining moment. Describe a defining moment or series of events that has affected your life this year.
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ABDU'L-BAHA IN LINCOLN PARK, CHICAGO, 1912 (COURTESY BAHA'I NATIONAL ARCHIVES, WILMETTE) |
Most people I know visit Montreal for the famous Jazz festival that happens in the summer. Or to go shopping, and enjoy the good restaurants and cafes. My main reason for passing through the city was that I wanted to go visit the home of the Maxwell family – a well established family in the Montreal area who welcomed ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the son of Baha’u’llah (the founder of the Baha'i faith), into their beautiful home when he visited Canada in the mid 1900s. The Baha’i community has maintained the property, recently restoring it completely and bringing all of the furniture back to the home that had been there when ‘Abdu’l-Bahá visited. Over time the home has become a place of pilgrimage. A spot where Baha’is can go to reflect, pray and connect with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. Recently the site was named the first official Baha’i shrine in North America.
‘Abdu’l-Bahá spent nine months touring North America in 1912, at the age of sixty-eight. He traveled tirelessly all over the country, giving public speeches at universities, churches, synagogues, clubs and private homes. His speeches were about the message his Father had brought. They were about peace, unity, the elimination of all forms of prejudice, and spiritual life, among many other topics. You can read an account of his time in America in Amy Renshaw's book Voyage of Love: Abdu'l-Baha in North America. You can read a wonderful selection of his talks for free, here. A dear friend of mine, Brent Poirier, is another rich source of stories ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. He website, Storytelling in the Baha'i Faith, is a gem of a resource, if you would like to read more inspiring stories. The photograph of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá at the top of this blog entry is "borrowed" from his website.
I started getting to know ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as a child. The first prayer that I learned as a child was written by him. It goes: "O God, guide me, protect me, make of me a shining lamp and a brilliant star. Thou art the Mighty and the Powerful." ~‘Abdu’l-Bahá
My experience of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá as a child and young adult was as a white-bearded elderly man wearing a simple robe and turban, the customary attire for men in much of the Middle East during his lifetime. I always had a photo of him in my bedroom growing up, and I envisioned him as a kind, loving, gentle, grandfather-like figure. I had heard many stories of how much ‘Abdu’l-Bahá loved children, so I always felt a closeness to him.
Last year I took part in a Ruhi book 8 study course. The Ruhi Institute conducts educational programs for individuals from the age of 5 through adulthood. The materials were originally developed by the Baha'i community of Columbia to spiritually invigorate their community, and to help provide community members with training that would give them the practical skills to best serve the needs of their communities and the world around them. The Ruhi materials were so successful in generating community development that the materials spread, and today are being used all over the world. The Ruhi materials are constantly being updated, and as communities have more learning experiences with them, new materials are being developed. Ruhi book 8 is about the Covenant of Baha'u'llah, and much of it is about ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, because he is the Centre of the Covenant for Baha'is. The stories about ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, and the extracts from his Tablets are deeply inspiring and moving, and by the end of the course of study I felt a much stronger and personal connection to him than I had felt before.
I chose to go visit the shrine in Montreal on a chilly February night. Bundled up in as many layers as I could get away with and still be able to move, I took the metro across the lit up city, transferred to the bus, and then walked down the icy pavement along a long line of beautiful, graceful stone homes. My silver breath hanging in the air, the snow all around me, and the elegantly style in which the homes were built made me feel as if I had stepped through a gap in the time continuum. I half expected a horse-drawn carriage to clatter by along the street beside me.
Eventually I came to a home whose windows glowed with a warm yellow light, and I turned up a short walkway and rang the bell. The door was answered by a young Persian man with a radiant smile. He welcomed me in and showed me into a small cloakroom where he said I could leave my belongings during my visit. Having set down all my belongings and removed my shoes, another man approached and offered to give me a tour of the home. I was lucky, he told me. I was the only visitor, and given what a chilly night is was they would not be surprised if I were the only visitor all night. I was taken into the living room where ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had given many talks while in the city. It was a large rectangular room with a fireplace at one end. My tour guide explained that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá used to sit next to the fireplace when he gave his talks, this being the source of the term “firesides” that the Baha’i community often uses when referring to gatherings of people for the purpose of discussing the Baha’i faith.
I was also taken into the office of Mr.Maxwell. The office had the beautiful, heavy antique desk in it that Mr. Maxwell had done his writing and other work at, as well as a number of ornate pieces of furniture. I was told that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had met with Mr. Maxwell in this very room on numerous occasions during the time that he was staying at the Maxwell home, and I conjured up images of the two men sitting deep in discussion in this richly decorated room, with the city of Montreal busily going about its business outside, oblivious of the noble visitor that they had in their midst.
Upstairs, I made a rather quick sweep of the rooms that had formerly been inhabited by members of the Maxwell family, before entering the room that drew me in like a magnet. I stood for a long time in the doorway of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá's room, taking in the placement of every piece of furniture: the old four-poster bed with the white embroidered bedspread over it; the dresser; the windows on the far side of the room that looked down the hill over the city of Montreal; and the chair that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had sat in next to the windows. I paused at the door because I wanted to take it in, but also because I felt the need to prepare myself to enter the space that he had inhabited. I had read stories of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, his kindness and generosity to all who crossed his path; his ability to sense what his companions were thinking without their uttering a single word; his absolute devotion and humility; his attitude of servitude and his love for all people, but entering a space that he had actually inhabited made all the stories come to life in a way that I had never before experienced. Although he was not in the room, I felt as though I was entering his presence, and it took a few minutes to ready my heart to enter this special place, and be wholly present.
I stood by the bed first, and imagined ‘Abdu’l-Bahá resting upon it, his white beard and hair flowing over the pillow. I walked around the perimeter of the room, stopping to take in each detail and commit it to memory. I found myself being drawn to his chair. I stood in front of it, then knelt, and was suddenly overcome with a rush of emotion. I felt deeply blessed to be in this room alone, and to have the chance to talk to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá like so many had done in person not so long ago, in this very place. I said many prayers, and in between the prayers I spoke with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. I thanked him. I asked questions, and for guidance on my journey. As I knelt in front of his chair, I felt as if he was sitting there right in front of me, and an overwhelming feeling of love poured over me. Love for this man who dedicated his entire life to serving others. I was there for a long time. Time seemed to disappear, and all that existed while I was between those walls was my heart, and the conversation that it was having with ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
When I left two hours later it felt as though all my worries and concerns had been removed, and as though the space they had occupied had been filled up with a deep and tender love unlike any I had felt before. I felt as if I was carrying in my heart the most precious gift I had ever been given, and I held it tenderly in my chest as I walked back to the metro stop, awareness centred inward to the warm otherworldly silence of the blissful connection I had just experienced as the lights and voices, horns and vibrations of Montreal slid past me like a dream.
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| The Baha'i House of Worship in Wilmette stunning against a blue sky |
About a week later I visited the Baha'i House of Worship in Wilmette, Illinois. It is a spectacular architectural achievement, and I spent a few hours taking in the sheer beauty of the structure, and saying prayers.
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| These pillars on the House of Worship have the symbols of the major world religions beautifully carved into them. Baha'i Houses of Worship have 9 sides, which represent the nine major religions of the world, all of which converge into a single point at the dome, to represent the unity of all the world's faiths. They are open to people of all faiths, for personal prayer and meditation. |
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| The Baha'i House of Worship in Wilmette at night |
Below the actual Hose of Worship are many offices and the Baha'i archives. I had not planned on visiting the archives, but one of the very kind souls working in the House of Worship insisted, whisking me down a hall and introducing me to the archivist. There was a lot to see. Tablets and photographs and other personal items belonging to both Baha'u'llah and ‘Abdu’l-Bahá. But the items that touched me on this occasion the most were ‘Abdu’l-Bahá's shoes. It might seem rather plain, when I was surrounded by so many rare historical objects. There were two pairs of shoes sitting in the glass case. One was a pair of cream-coloured Middle Eastern slippers. The other was a pair of big black boots. The boots may have been from the Middle East also, but they looked very western. They struck me because precisely because they were so ordinary. They were well worn and scuffed, not shiny and new. They looked like a sturdy pair of boots that someone living in North America at that time in history might have trudged through snowy streets in. Practical. Comfortable. Ordinary. Very ordinary.
For some reason, all my experiences of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá -- the prayers, the tablets, the stories, the simple photographs, and my experience in Montreal--all seemed to connect to a very real person in the form of these boots. It impressed me that while ‘Abdu’l-Bahá wore his traditional clothing, he chose to wear western boots on his feet in North America. He seemed to be embodying the need to be adaptable and practical, and at the same time communicate a grounded sense of humility. Just as I had felt when sitting in front of the chair that he had regularly occupied in the room that he had stayed in, in Montreal, as I stood in the basement of the House of Worship in front of the glass case of personal objects, I felt as though he was standing right there in front of me in his American boots, smiling. I do not know why those boots made such an impression on me. But since that day last winter, ‘Abdu’l-Bahá has become a much more real presence in my life. I feel like he is someone I can take a walk under the changing Autumn trees with; or a friend that I can sit with in silence and just be.
As I move through my days, he inspires me to serve, and accompanies me as I do. He reminds me how important it is to listen, to be loving, and to practice humility in my everyday interactions. He reminds me to persevere, and to look to the limitless strength of God instead of my own limited resources when I am attempting to accomplish something. He has taught me about being lighthearted. My favourite stories about him involve laughter, and the image in my mind of him laughing in joyful delight never fails to curl the edges of my lips into a smile. I do not know why those boots made such an impression on me. Perhaps ‘Abdu’l-Bahá was humorously teaching me the importance of walking a spiritual path wearing practical shoes. Boots, to be precise!
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Reverb10, Day 28: Achieving economic prosperity
Prompt: Achieve. What’s the thing you most want to achieve next year? How do you imagine you’ll feel when you get it? Free? Happy? Complete? Blissful? Write that feeling down. Then, brainstorm 10 things you can do, or 10 new thoughts you can think, in order to experience that feeling today.
The author of this prompt is Tara Sophia Mohr:
The Women's Seder Sourcebook: Rituals & Readings for Use at the Passover Seder
@tarasophia
"The best of men are they that earn a livelihood by their calling and spend upon themselves and upon their kindred for the love of God." Bahá'u'lláh
"...cooperation, mutual aid and reciprocity are essential characteristics in the unified body of the world of being, inasmuch as all created things are closely related together and each is influenced by the other or deriveth benefit therefrom, either directly or indirectly." 'Abdu'l-Bahá
"Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in, and centre your deliberations on its exigencies and requirements." Bahá'u'lláh
"...the implications of the law of Huqúqu'lláh for the realization of a number of the principles of the Faith, such as the elimination of the extremes of wealth and poverty, and a more equitable distribution of resources, will increasingly become manifest as the friends assume in ever greater measure the responsibility for observing it...this mighty law, a source of inestimable blessings for all humanity." The Universal House of Justice, Ridvan 2006, Huqúqu'lláh Compilation 2007, 104.
Two words: Economic prosperity. No more scraping by. It was fine to have to fall back on my savings when I was in my twenties. It is no fun now that I am in my thirties. I have lots to offer the world, and I am prepared to work hard, but from now on I expect to be compensated accordingly. There are things that I would like to do with my life, such as raising children, paying off student loans, contributing to the Baha'i fund, buying a piece of land, and building a home. I do not want to live excessively, but I do want to know that I can provide for myself, and, someday, for my family. I feel strongly about being capable of being financially independent. I need to know that I can stand on my own two feet. As a Baha'i, I have a spiritual and moral responsibility as a member of the human race to be contributing to leveling out the current economic inequalities that exist between the wealthiest and the poorest members of our global community. I am not alright with the differences between my quality of life and the quality of life that I saw many people living in Cairo when I was there in 2006. And I know that the citizens of many countries, like Haiti, fair far worse. Achieving personal economic prosperity means I will have the freedom to contribute more generously to the many global efforts that are working to level out these inequalities. Economic prosperity has both material and spiritual implications.
I imagine that being economically prosperous would mean that I would feel more peace of mind, because I would have the means at my disposal to be an agent of change at a level that I currently do not possess. Of course I always have my time and my skills, and I give of these whenever I can. But sometimes making things happen in life means having the material resources to do so. I also imagine that being economically more prosperous would mean feeling freer to travel, to pursue business ideas, to give to charities, and to attend family gatherings and important life events such as a close friend's wedding every now and then. Other states of being that I associate with economic prosperity are feeling less stressed, and more independent; possessing a greater degree of self-confidence, and having the ability to pursue a wider range of creative and educational projects that will benefit my community.
So I am obviously not there yet. I have goals, and I am working towards them, but I have a ways to go before I will be able to be making large contributions to charities in Haiti. I will keep working towards my long term goals in the new year, but in the meantime, there are small things that I can do now to help me progress towards my goals.
I have come up with a list of 10 things I can DO or THINK RIGHT NOW that will empower me, give me peace of mind, help release stress, and make me feel more independent and self-confident (most of the feelings I associate with financial prosperity). Hopefully some of these will inspire you on your path towards your own goal!
1. Pray. Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i faith, says that our prayers have a profound effect on our lives, even if we cannot at first see the effect:
"Intone, O My servant, the verses of God that have been received by thee,
as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto Him,
that the sweetness of thy melody may kindle thine own soul,
and attract the hearts of all men. Whoso reciteth, in the privacy of his chamber,
the verses revealed by God, the scattering angels of the Almighty
shall scatter abroad the fragrance of the words uttered by his mouth,
and shall cause the heart of every righteous man to throb.
Though he may, at first, remain unaware of its effect, yet the virtue
of the grace vouchsafed unto him must needs sooner or later exercise
its influence upon his soul." -Baha'u'llah
2. Compile a list of positive affirmations and quotes. By repeating certain ideas or thoughts on a regular basis, they become an integral part of how I think. Two of my favourites, which I repeat to myself regularly, are:
"I give you a commandment which shall be for a covenant between you and me — that ye have faith; that your faith be steadfast as a rock that no storms can move, that nothing can disturb, and that it endure through all things even to the end;...As ye have faith so shall your powers and blessings be. This is the balance---this is the balance---this is the balance." -Abdu'l-Baha
and:
"The greatest divine bounty is a confident heart. When the heart is confident, all the trials of the world will be as child's play. Should they throw him into a prison, should they cast him into a black well, should they heap him all manner of afflictions, still his heart is content, peaceful, and assured." -Abdu'l-Baha
3. Do yoga. I was never into yoga. I have always thought that the only sports worth my attention were the vigorous ones that required considerable huffing and puffing, like running and gymnastics. But I am finding that yoga not only keeps my body strong (and sometimes very sore!!), it also does truly amazing things to my mind and heart. It helps me to keep my attention focused on my goals, which brings me closer and closer to achieving them.
4. Pick the brains of people who are economically prosperous. I have been learning the immense value of role models lately. Surrounding myself with people who are where I want to be is a tremendous encouragement and learning experience. I may not have my dream job yet, but there are plenty of people living all around me who do. I just need to find them and flash my angelic smile ;-)
5. Give myself a break. I can be incredibly hard on myself. Every now and then, stopping and actually saying out loud "thank you for sharing that opinion/criticism/comment -- but personally I think I am a rock star," is always helpful. Anything that lightens the heart and makes me smile at myself is a positive step towards achieving my goals. I was just at an an exhibit of post-impressionists in San Francisco the other day, and was reflecting on the fact that Van Gogh only sold ONE painting during his lifetime, and he sold it to his own brother. I mean, really. How many famous people have stories like this? tonnes, that's how many.
6. Re-read Marianne Williamson's quote, made famous by Nelson Mandela. I won't quote it all here, but you will know what I am talking about by the this short piece: "We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, out presence automatically liberates others." If that does not make you feel hopeful, I do not know what will. Sheer genius, I tell you!
7. Celebrate the small steps. Whenever I first start trying to work towards something, my goal feels really far off. Celebrating the small accomplishments along the way breaks up the distance between where I am standing right now and where I want to be standing. It also encourages me along the way!
8. Talk to a friend. Friends are the best thing to ever walk the surface of the earth, in my opinion. Whenever I am feeling like none of my plans are going to work out, and as though I would be better off to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head, I put in a call to a friend who points out all of my assets, and how much progress I have made, and how valuable my contribution to the world is, and the world suddenly gets much brighter. Works like a charm every time.
9. Serve. Offering service is like a magic salve to any of life's problems. Serving others always makes me feel ten times better about my own life and capabilities. I feel peace of mind and heart, less stressed, and far more optimistic about what I have to contribute to the world.
10. Have a little faith. Having faith when I am feeling shaky sometimes feels almost impossible, but when I push myself a little, and assure myself that if I have a little more faith, things will work out, I usually find that things start looking up.
So there you have it! I will end this blog with a poem that lifts my spirits every time I read it. It is by Amatu'l-Baha Ruhiyyih Khanum:
THIS IS FAITH
To walk where there is no path
To breathe where there is no air
To see where there is not light-
This is Faith.
To cry out in the silence,
The silence of the night,
And hearing no echo believe
And believe again and again-
This is Faith.
To hold pebbles and see jewels
To raise sticks and see forests
To smile with weeping eyes-
This is Faith.
To say: "God, I believe" when others deny,
"I hear" when there is no answer,
"I see" though naught is seen-
This is Faith.
And the fierce love in the heart,
The savage love that cries
Hidden Thou art yet there !
Veil Thy face and mute Thy tongue
yet I see and hear Thee, Love,
Beat me down to the bare earth,
Yet I rise and love Thee, Love !"
This is Faith.
The author of this prompt is Tara Sophia Mohr:
The Women's Seder Sourcebook: Rituals & Readings for Use at the Passover Seder
@tarasophia
"The best of men are they that earn a livelihood by their calling and spend upon themselves and upon their kindred for the love of God." Bahá'u'lláh
"...cooperation, mutual aid and reciprocity are essential characteristics in the unified body of the world of being, inasmuch as all created things are closely related together and each is influenced by the other or deriveth benefit therefrom, either directly or indirectly." 'Abdu'l-Bahá
"Be anxiously concerned with the needs of the age ye live in, and centre your deliberations on its exigencies and requirements." Bahá'u'lláh
"...the implications of the law of Huqúqu'lláh for the realization of a number of the principles of the Faith, such as the elimination of the extremes of wealth and poverty, and a more equitable distribution of resources, will increasingly become manifest as the friends assume in ever greater measure the responsibility for observing it...this mighty law, a source of inestimable blessings for all humanity." The Universal House of Justice, Ridvan 2006, Huqúqu'lláh Compilation 2007, 104.
Two words: Economic prosperity. No more scraping by. It was fine to have to fall back on my savings when I was in my twenties. It is no fun now that I am in my thirties. I have lots to offer the world, and I am prepared to work hard, but from now on I expect to be compensated accordingly. There are things that I would like to do with my life, such as raising children, paying off student loans, contributing to the Baha'i fund, buying a piece of land, and building a home. I do not want to live excessively, but I do want to know that I can provide for myself, and, someday, for my family. I feel strongly about being capable of being financially independent. I need to know that I can stand on my own two feet. As a Baha'i, I have a spiritual and moral responsibility as a member of the human race to be contributing to leveling out the current economic inequalities that exist between the wealthiest and the poorest members of our global community. I am not alright with the differences between my quality of life and the quality of life that I saw many people living in Cairo when I was there in 2006. And I know that the citizens of many countries, like Haiti, fair far worse. Achieving personal economic prosperity means I will have the freedom to contribute more generously to the many global efforts that are working to level out these inequalities. Economic prosperity has both material and spiritual implications.
I imagine that being economically prosperous would mean that I would feel more peace of mind, because I would have the means at my disposal to be an agent of change at a level that I currently do not possess. Of course I always have my time and my skills, and I give of these whenever I can. But sometimes making things happen in life means having the material resources to do so. I also imagine that being economically more prosperous would mean feeling freer to travel, to pursue business ideas, to give to charities, and to attend family gatherings and important life events such as a close friend's wedding every now and then. Other states of being that I associate with economic prosperity are feeling less stressed, and more independent; possessing a greater degree of self-confidence, and having the ability to pursue a wider range of creative and educational projects that will benefit my community.
So I am obviously not there yet. I have goals, and I am working towards them, but I have a ways to go before I will be able to be making large contributions to charities in Haiti. I will keep working towards my long term goals in the new year, but in the meantime, there are small things that I can do now to help me progress towards my goals.
I have come up with a list of 10 things I can DO or THINK RIGHT NOW that will empower me, give me peace of mind, help release stress, and make me feel more independent and self-confident (most of the feelings I associate with financial prosperity). Hopefully some of these will inspire you on your path towards your own goal!
1. Pray. Baha'u'llah, the founder of the Baha'i faith, says that our prayers have a profound effect on our lives, even if we cannot at first see the effect:
"Intone, O My servant, the verses of God that have been received by thee,
as intoned by them who have drawn nigh unto Him,
that the sweetness of thy melody may kindle thine own soul,
and attract the hearts of all men. Whoso reciteth, in the privacy of his chamber,
the verses revealed by God, the scattering angels of the Almighty
shall scatter abroad the fragrance of the words uttered by his mouth,
and shall cause the heart of every righteous man to throb.
Though he may, at first, remain unaware of its effect, yet the virtue
of the grace vouchsafed unto him must needs sooner or later exercise
its influence upon his soul." -Baha'u'llah
2. Compile a list of positive affirmations and quotes. By repeating certain ideas or thoughts on a regular basis, they become an integral part of how I think. Two of my favourites, which I repeat to myself regularly, are:
"I give you a commandment which shall be for a covenant between you and me — that ye have faith; that your faith be steadfast as a rock that no storms can move, that nothing can disturb, and that it endure through all things even to the end;...As ye have faith so shall your powers and blessings be. This is the balance---this is the balance---this is the balance." -Abdu'l-Baha
and:
"The greatest divine bounty is a confident heart. When the heart is confident, all the trials of the world will be as child's play. Should they throw him into a prison, should they cast him into a black well, should they heap him all manner of afflictions, still his heart is content, peaceful, and assured." -Abdu'l-Baha
3. Do yoga. I was never into yoga. I have always thought that the only sports worth my attention were the vigorous ones that required considerable huffing and puffing, like running and gymnastics. But I am finding that yoga not only keeps my body strong (and sometimes very sore!!), it also does truly amazing things to my mind and heart. It helps me to keep my attention focused on my goals, which brings me closer and closer to achieving them.
4. Pick the brains of people who are economically prosperous. I have been learning the immense value of role models lately. Surrounding myself with people who are where I want to be is a tremendous encouragement and learning experience. I may not have my dream job yet, but there are plenty of people living all around me who do. I just need to find them and flash my angelic smile ;-)
5. Give myself a break. I can be incredibly hard on myself. Every now and then, stopping and actually saying out loud "thank you for sharing that opinion/criticism/comment -- but personally I think I am a rock star," is always helpful. Anything that lightens the heart and makes me smile at myself is a positive step towards achieving my goals. I was just at an an exhibit of post-impressionists in San Francisco the other day, and was reflecting on the fact that Van Gogh only sold ONE painting during his lifetime, and he sold it to his own brother. I mean, really. How many famous people have stories like this? tonnes, that's how many.
6. Re-read Marianne Williamson's quote, made famous by Nelson Mandela. I won't quote it all here, but you will know what I am talking about by the this short piece: "We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, out presence automatically liberates others." If that does not make you feel hopeful, I do not know what will. Sheer genius, I tell you!
7. Celebrate the small steps. Whenever I first start trying to work towards something, my goal feels really far off. Celebrating the small accomplishments along the way breaks up the distance between where I am standing right now and where I want to be standing. It also encourages me along the way!
8. Talk to a friend. Friends are the best thing to ever walk the surface of the earth, in my opinion. Whenever I am feeling like none of my plans are going to work out, and as though I would be better off to crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head, I put in a call to a friend who points out all of my assets, and how much progress I have made, and how valuable my contribution to the world is, and the world suddenly gets much brighter. Works like a charm every time.
9. Serve. Offering service is like a magic salve to any of life's problems. Serving others always makes me feel ten times better about my own life and capabilities. I feel peace of mind and heart, less stressed, and far more optimistic about what I have to contribute to the world.
10. Have a little faith. Having faith when I am feeling shaky sometimes feels almost impossible, but when I push myself a little, and assure myself that if I have a little more faith, things will work out, I usually find that things start looking up.
So there you have it! I will end this blog with a poem that lifts my spirits every time I read it. It is by Amatu'l-Baha Ruhiyyih Khanum:
To walk where there is no path
To breathe where there is no air
To see where there is not light-
This is Faith.
To cry out in the silence,
The silence of the night,
And hearing no echo believe
And believe again and again-
This is Faith.
To hold pebbles and see jewels
To raise sticks and see forests
To smile with weeping eyes-
This is Faith.
To say: "God, I believe" when others deny,
"I hear" when there is no answer,
"I see" though naught is seen-
This is Faith.
And the fierce love in the heart,
The savage love that cries
Hidden Thou art yet there !
Veil Thy face and mute Thy tongue
yet I see and hear Thee, Love,
Beat me down to the bare earth,
Yet I rise and love Thee, Love !"
This is Faith.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Reverb10, Day 22: No place like home
Prompt: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?
The author of this prompt is Tara Hunt:
The Whuffie Factor: Using the Power of Social Networks to Build Your Business
@missrogue
"Let not a man glory in that he loves his country; let him rather glory in this, that he loves his kind."
~ Baha'u'llah ~
I have traveled across the maps of geography this last year. Across snow-covered mountains and prairies and the wide open vistas of desert and agricultural valleys. But I have already said enough about these journeys. I have also embarked on an internal journey of discovery.
My internal journey is very personal, but it extends out into the world around me in very real ways. In trying to figure out who I am, I am also trying to better understand what kind of environment I operate best in; what kind of community do I want to be a part of? How do I contribute to creating the kind of community atmosphere that I do deeply want to be a part of? Until six years ago, I did not think much about my role in creating the kind of community that I am excited to be a part of. I have lived in amazing communities my whole life. I grew up on the island of Cyprus surrounded by a community of people who I consider to be family. People who shaped my values and taught me to love deeply, to serve with everything I have in me, to develop an intimate and powerful relationship with the land and sea that surrounded me. Cyprus taught me loyalty and justice, and that there are very few things I would not do for a friend. It also taught me the importance of a community. Of roots. Of family. Of a strong story. A sense of belonging.
When I went off to Prescott College in Arizona, I was immersed in a community that was supportive, creative, innovative, open-minded, adventurous, inspired, inspiring, energetic...there was a sense that anything was possible in this community. I learned that the natural world was an integral part of my community. I made friends with powerful, strong, graceful women who danced and did yoga and meditated and prayed and sang...women who went hiking and camping with me; women who were fearless and open-hearted and full of laughter and fun and hope and dreams. I met faculty who were humble, and who I respected, and still respect deeply -- who were willing to walk by my side as we learned together instead of looking down on me from the tower of their PhDs. I learned to question, to believe in myself, to explore beyond my comfort zone. My community was dedicated to serving humanity. We wanted to work together. We traveled, we started NGOs to help better integrate the Mexican immigrant community with the mainly white, Caucasian community, we fought for justice and human rights. My friends and faculty became another extension of my family -- my network for experiencing the world; the strong foundation from which I could confidently explore the world.
When I moved to Prince Edward Island, I was integrated into a closely knit, supportive community. PEI has the highest level of volunteerism in all of Canada. Someone is sick, people organize a fundraiser to help pay medical bills; someone needs a new house, people turn up to help build it; when you need food, you can buy it from a farmer who lives relatively nearby. The network is tight, and it is strong. Sometimes stronger than residents would like, but it does have its advantages. For the first number of years that I lived on PEI, I enjoyed the strong sense of community without really thinking much about what it means to be a member of such a community. Once I graduated with my M.A., and started working with a local farmer, I started realizing how much personal energy, love, commitment, time, money, patience, determination, and and selfless service goes into maintaining the community life that I had come to value so much. It is not a culture built upon the freedom and independence of the individual. It is all about connection and mutual support, and therefore sometimes disagreements, struggle, reconciliation, and adaptation. Being a small place, there is very little luxury for not getting along with one's neighbour. Of course this means that people are sometimes pleasant on the surface in order to keep the peace, when underneath they are boiling with anger, but I found that just as often, the close-proximity means that people honestly do learn to work alongside each other even thought their ethics and ideals may differ tremendously.
In addition to my larger community on PEI, I had the community that I built through my Baha'i activities. The Baha'i community did have its struggles, like any community. Sometimes we had personal disagreements, which would boil over, but we would confront them, move through the pain and hurt feelings, and find resolution. There was a level of commitment and willingness...an unspoken acknowledgment that we were invested in wading through the quicksand to get to solid ground. Unity was our goal, and we did not let our personal hurt feelings stop us from always striving for it. Call it idealistic. Call it impossible. It was how we lived, and it created an environment that was loving, supportive, empowering, and inspiring. I could not wait to get to community events. I felt it was an honour to be elected to, and serve on our local administrative body. My community was, and has remained, despite the vast distance separating us now, my immediate family.
Living on PEI helped me to learn that being part of a community like I have just described is not easy. I was hurt many times, frustrated many times, angered many times. But I learned to stay put and grow through these times. When I was insulted; when my feelings were hurt; when I did something that hurt someone else's feelings or angered someone -- I did not walk out of the room and retreat into myself. I stayed right there, swallowed my pride and my hurt, and I grew through it with whoever I was having the interaction with. It was very hard, and sometimes we did not succeed in reconciling our differences on the first try, but we kept trying. I kept trying. I learned that I valued the unity of my community over needing to being right every time. I realized that a community is a reflection of the energy that each member puts into it. Things were not perfect, but I learned that if I remained open and willing to adjusting my perspective -- if I knew deep down that whoever I was experiencing difficulty with was someone who I loved and respected, and who loved and respected me -- that we would get through this and that our community would be stronger as a result. I learned all of this from experiencing it. It was a gift to be a member of a community like this, but it was also a responsibility.
Having moved to a new community, I am having to learn to negotiate new community dynamics. When I first arrived, and for many months after arriving, I simply did not engage with my community. I was critical of the dynamics at play, and did not want to engage with them. As a result, I have been living here for many months now, and I still do not feel that I am a part of a supportive, engaging community. I have been reflecting on this deeply lately. I realize that all communities are different. I am living in a much larger city, so relationships are going to be influenced by the cultural and geographic circumstances that we are living in. The weather here is much milder, so people do not have to band together to get through tough winters. People earn relatively good salaries, so they do not have to support each other as much to make sure that everyone has food on the table, or that medical bills get paid. But I still have neighbours. I still have a community whose energy is influenced by what its individual members are willing to put into it. I still have a role that I can choose to put all of my heart, or only part of my heart, into. If I want to live in a community that is happy and exciting and supportive, I have a role to play in creating such a community. I have a choice about what I surround myself with, and that choice is not just whether I stay or leave. It is also about how I choose to engage with the community that I happen to be in while I am here, however long that might me.
Yes, I have traveled this year. But some of the most important journeys seem to be taking place when I stop moving so much. When I put down some roots. And when I start contributing to building the kinds of relationships with the people who surround me that inspire and energize me. When I start proactively contributing to creating a community that feels like home around me.
The author of this prompt is Tara Hunt:
The Whuffie Factor: Using the Power of Social Networks to Build Your Business
@missrogue
"Let not a man glory in that he loves his country; let him rather glory in this, that he loves his kind."
~ Baha'u'llah ~
I have traveled across the maps of geography this last year. Across snow-covered mountains and prairies and the wide open vistas of desert and agricultural valleys. But I have already said enough about these journeys. I have also embarked on an internal journey of discovery.
My internal journey is very personal, but it extends out into the world around me in very real ways. In trying to figure out who I am, I am also trying to better understand what kind of environment I operate best in; what kind of community do I want to be a part of? How do I contribute to creating the kind of community atmosphere that I do deeply want to be a part of? Until six years ago, I did not think much about my role in creating the kind of community that I am excited to be a part of. I have lived in amazing communities my whole life. I grew up on the island of Cyprus surrounded by a community of people who I consider to be family. People who shaped my values and taught me to love deeply, to serve with everything I have in me, to develop an intimate and powerful relationship with the land and sea that surrounded me. Cyprus taught me loyalty and justice, and that there are very few things I would not do for a friend. It also taught me the importance of a community. Of roots. Of family. Of a strong story. A sense of belonging.
When I went off to Prescott College in Arizona, I was immersed in a community that was supportive, creative, innovative, open-minded, adventurous, inspired, inspiring, energetic...there was a sense that anything was possible in this community. I learned that the natural world was an integral part of my community. I made friends with powerful, strong, graceful women who danced and did yoga and meditated and prayed and sang...women who went hiking and camping with me; women who were fearless and open-hearted and full of laughter and fun and hope and dreams. I met faculty who were humble, and who I respected, and still respect deeply -- who were willing to walk by my side as we learned together instead of looking down on me from the tower of their PhDs. I learned to question, to believe in myself, to explore beyond my comfort zone. My community was dedicated to serving humanity. We wanted to work together. We traveled, we started NGOs to help better integrate the Mexican immigrant community with the mainly white, Caucasian community, we fought for justice and human rights. My friends and faculty became another extension of my family -- my network for experiencing the world; the strong foundation from which I could confidently explore the world.
When I moved to Prince Edward Island, I was integrated into a closely knit, supportive community. PEI has the highest level of volunteerism in all of Canada. Someone is sick, people organize a fundraiser to help pay medical bills; someone needs a new house, people turn up to help build it; when you need food, you can buy it from a farmer who lives relatively nearby. The network is tight, and it is strong. Sometimes stronger than residents would like, but it does have its advantages. For the first number of years that I lived on PEI, I enjoyed the strong sense of community without really thinking much about what it means to be a member of such a community. Once I graduated with my M.A., and started working with a local farmer, I started realizing how much personal energy, love, commitment, time, money, patience, determination, and and selfless service goes into maintaining the community life that I had come to value so much. It is not a culture built upon the freedom and independence of the individual. It is all about connection and mutual support, and therefore sometimes disagreements, struggle, reconciliation, and adaptation. Being a small place, there is very little luxury for not getting along with one's neighbour. Of course this means that people are sometimes pleasant on the surface in order to keep the peace, when underneath they are boiling with anger, but I found that just as often, the close-proximity means that people honestly do learn to work alongside each other even thought their ethics and ideals may differ tremendously.
In addition to my larger community on PEI, I had the community that I built through my Baha'i activities. The Baha'i community did have its struggles, like any community. Sometimes we had personal disagreements, which would boil over, but we would confront them, move through the pain and hurt feelings, and find resolution. There was a level of commitment and willingness...an unspoken acknowledgment that we were invested in wading through the quicksand to get to solid ground. Unity was our goal, and we did not let our personal hurt feelings stop us from always striving for it. Call it idealistic. Call it impossible. It was how we lived, and it created an environment that was loving, supportive, empowering, and inspiring. I could not wait to get to community events. I felt it was an honour to be elected to, and serve on our local administrative body. My community was, and has remained, despite the vast distance separating us now, my immediate family.
Living on PEI helped me to learn that being part of a community like I have just described is not easy. I was hurt many times, frustrated many times, angered many times. But I learned to stay put and grow through these times. When I was insulted; when my feelings were hurt; when I did something that hurt someone else's feelings or angered someone -- I did not walk out of the room and retreat into myself. I stayed right there, swallowed my pride and my hurt, and I grew through it with whoever I was having the interaction with. It was very hard, and sometimes we did not succeed in reconciling our differences on the first try, but we kept trying. I kept trying. I learned that I valued the unity of my community over needing to being right every time. I realized that a community is a reflection of the energy that each member puts into it. Things were not perfect, but I learned that if I remained open and willing to adjusting my perspective -- if I knew deep down that whoever I was experiencing difficulty with was someone who I loved and respected, and who loved and respected me -- that we would get through this and that our community would be stronger as a result. I learned all of this from experiencing it. It was a gift to be a member of a community like this, but it was also a responsibility.
Having moved to a new community, I am having to learn to negotiate new community dynamics. When I first arrived, and for many months after arriving, I simply did not engage with my community. I was critical of the dynamics at play, and did not want to engage with them. As a result, I have been living here for many months now, and I still do not feel that I am a part of a supportive, engaging community. I have been reflecting on this deeply lately. I realize that all communities are different. I am living in a much larger city, so relationships are going to be influenced by the cultural and geographic circumstances that we are living in. The weather here is much milder, so people do not have to band together to get through tough winters. People earn relatively good salaries, so they do not have to support each other as much to make sure that everyone has food on the table, or that medical bills get paid. But I still have neighbours. I still have a community whose energy is influenced by what its individual members are willing to put into it. I still have a role that I can choose to put all of my heart, or only part of my heart, into. If I want to live in a community that is happy and exciting and supportive, I have a role to play in creating such a community. I have a choice about what I surround myself with, and that choice is not just whether I stay or leave. It is also about how I choose to engage with the community that I happen to be in while I am here, however long that might me.
Yes, I have traveled this year. But some of the most important journeys seem to be taking place when I stop moving so much. When I put down some roots. And when I start contributing to building the kinds of relationships with the people who surround me that inspire and energize me. When I start proactively contributing to creating a community that feels like home around me.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Reberb10, Day 21: Taking advantage of the lunar eclipse
Prompt: Future self. Imagine yourself five years from now. What advice would you give your current self for the year ahead? (Bonus: Write a note to yourself 10 years ago. What would you tell your younger self?)
The author of this prompt is Jenny Blake:
Life After College: The Complete Guide to Getting What You Want
@jenny_blake
Today is the shortest day of the year. Light is not the only thing I am experiencing a lack of today. I spent half an hour this morning arguing with a student loan company representative. There are few things that get me as riled up as someone telling me that I owe them money when I know that I requested, and was granted, a forbearance on repaying my student loans until I find full time work again. There is not a day that goes by since graduating that I do not kick myself for ever applying for student loans in the United States. Whereas in many countries these loans are managed by the government, in the US they are farmed off to private companies whose goal is to make as much of a profit as they can off of the ignorance of the student population. It makes me want to roar! :-)
There has been a theme weaving through my life over the last few weeks: Learning to see things that are potentially present, but not always visible yet. Last night I took a blanket out in the back yard and curled up in a damp lawn chair to watch the lunar eclipse. When I first went out the sky was clear and the air crisp. I saw constellations that I have not seen so clearly since leaving Canada. The earth's shadow rotated a ghostlike, rusty mask over the moon's surface, reducing the full-faced moon to a sharp sickle of light, and then just a pale suggestion of its luminous self. The image reminded me of a poem written by David Moody, a poet I met recently, in which he describes the phases of the moon as resembling the view from beneath a manhole looking up as the cover slides closed, and is opened again. Rippling silver clouds slid rapidly across the sky last night just as the eclipse became full, and so I sat patiently, waiting for breaks in the clouds so that I could catch brief glimpses of the darkened face before it disappeared behind another blanket of cloud, listening to the wind blow through the oaks around me. It has been a long time since I have been outside at night listening to the wind. Being outside at night on a windy night is a powerful experience. In Canada is was almost unavoidable, but being out last night made me realize how easy it is to almost never hear the wind here if I am not seeking it out. Sitting outside alone last night also brought me face to face with fears that I did not experience often in Canada. A few weeks ago a helicopter flew over our neighbourhood late at night announcing over a loud speaker that a fugitive was loose in the area. I grew up on an island, where you would have to be a real idiot to commit a crime, because where are you going to go after you commit it? In other words, my tolerance threshold for violence and crime is non-existent. I had already been feeling apprehensive about being outside here at night, but since that episode, I have noticed that I have been choosing to stay inside a lot more at night. Sitting out there last night alone, I felt a part of me that had grown stronger on Prince Edward Island, wake back up.
As I watched the moon last night, my first thought was: that is us. That is earth. Proof that we exist. I wondered what people thought lunar eclipses were back when people believed that the earth was flat. Then I thought about how we are constantly in motion, and how easy it is to forget this because most of us are not conscious of the physical experience of motion as we move through our day and night. I also thought about a quote from the Baha'i writings that I have taped to the mirror on my dresser. It is extracted from a talk given by Abdu'l-Baha in London. He says that "the meditative faculty is akin to the mirror; if you put it before earthly objects, it will reflect them. Therefore if the spirit of man is contemplating earthly subjects he will be informed of these. But if you turn the mirror of your spirits heavenwards...the rays of the sun of Reality will be reflected in your hearts, and the virtues of the Kingdom will be obtained." Looking at the darkened moon last night made me think about the qualities that I reflect when I turn away from the source of my own light. It also made me think that being in shadow or turning away from a source of light does not mean the light is not there. It just means that a change of position is required if the object or person in shadow is to receive its rays. To watch a beautiful video of the lunar eclipse, click here.
This idea that the potential for something may be present long before this potential is realized keeps coming up. I read two stories in the last few weeks about this. One of these I mention in my blog entry Standing on the shoulders of giants. In it, Ken Robinson tells the story of the year that Death Valley received seven inches of rain instead of its average two inches. The result was that Death Valley came alive, becoming a sea of wildflowers. As Ken says, the rains proved that "Death Valley wasn't dead at all. It was asleep. It was simply waiting for the conditions of growth. When the conditions came, life returned..." to Death Valley. The other story that reflects this idea is a story that Rachel Naomi Remen tells in her book My Grandfather's Blessings: Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging
. The story is about an acorn. Rachel explains that we are all more than we seem. She uses an acorn as an example. She says that what we can see and touch about an acorn does not hint at the secret of its potential. She explains that the secret "is not directly measurable, but given the proper conditions over time it may become visible." She goes on to say that "an acorn makes no sense unless we know that woven into the way it is made, there is something waiting to unfold that knows how to become an oak tree. An acorn is defined by this capacity. Something can be the size, shape, weight, texture and colour of an acorn, but without this hidden power to become an oak tree, it is not an acorn." (p.82). Both of these stories illustrate the idea that the potential to fully express our nature is present within all things, but sometimes it is not obvious what this is, or how it will become visible.
This morning my yoga class was all about recognizing and tapping into that inner strength that is there, even when it may not be immediately obvious to us. It was a very physically demanding class, and I finished it with shaky, tired limbs, but pushing on through and trusting that I did have hidden reserves, in places that I was not conscious of, radiated a certain powerful certainty that extended beyond the end of my practice and out into the rest of my morning (which, in retrospect, is probably why I visualized a lioness and almost roared at the unsuspecting student loan officer that I spoke to on the phone!)
So if I envision myself five years from now, and try to imagine what advice this woman would give me for the year ahead, I think it would look something like this:
Dear Ariana,
Sometimes in life we can see our strengths and capacities, but how we are supposed to use them to serve is not as clear. You have the capacity to contribute great things to the world as a writer, a farmer, a researcher, a daughter, a lover and a mother. As long as you consciously choose to turn towards the source of your light every day, you should not doubt that you will make a valuable contribution to your family, your community, and the world. You may not be able to see how you will pay off your student loans right now, but the answer is already inside of you. Remember to have a confident heart, to be steadfast in your beliefs, and to be faithful to yourself. Keep dreaming. Keep believing. Be courageous. Take risks. Be curious. And when you are feeling shaky, pray, ask for guidance, and then trust that you will be able to receive the answer when it arrives. Be patient. Know that the universe is abundant. Oh, and don't forget to play and laugh and be silly. A light heart is a joyful heart. Remember: Anything is possible!
Love,
Your wiser, more compassionate self!
Interestingly, when I contemplate writing a similar note to myself ten years ago, I would say all the same things. The only difference is that I would use stronger language and be more specific, in the hope that my younger self might actually listen to some of this advice!
Someone asked me once what my eight year old self would think of who I am now, if she were to have lunch with me today. Personally, I think she would be mightily pleased that I still have the dream of owning a giant trampoline some day!! And I know that she would have been hunkered down out there under the oaks with with me last night, watching the moon wade her way back out into the sunlight. What would your younger self have to say? If you would like to share what she tells you, I would love to hear her thoughts!
The author of this prompt is Jenny Blake:
Life After College: The Complete Guide to Getting What You Want
@jenny_blake
Today is the shortest day of the year. Light is not the only thing I am experiencing a lack of today. I spent half an hour this morning arguing with a student loan company representative. There are few things that get me as riled up as someone telling me that I owe them money when I know that I requested, and was granted, a forbearance on repaying my student loans until I find full time work again. There is not a day that goes by since graduating that I do not kick myself for ever applying for student loans in the United States. Whereas in many countries these loans are managed by the government, in the US they are farmed off to private companies whose goal is to make as much of a profit as they can off of the ignorance of the student population. It makes me want to roar! :-)
There has been a theme weaving through my life over the last few weeks: Learning to see things that are potentially present, but not always visible yet. Last night I took a blanket out in the back yard and curled up in a damp lawn chair to watch the lunar eclipse. When I first went out the sky was clear and the air crisp. I saw constellations that I have not seen so clearly since leaving Canada. The earth's shadow rotated a ghostlike, rusty mask over the moon's surface, reducing the full-faced moon to a sharp sickle of light, and then just a pale suggestion of its luminous self. The image reminded me of a poem written by David Moody, a poet I met recently, in which he describes the phases of the moon as resembling the view from beneath a manhole looking up as the cover slides closed, and is opened again. Rippling silver clouds slid rapidly across the sky last night just as the eclipse became full, and so I sat patiently, waiting for breaks in the clouds so that I could catch brief glimpses of the darkened face before it disappeared behind another blanket of cloud, listening to the wind blow through the oaks around me. It has been a long time since I have been outside at night listening to the wind. Being outside at night on a windy night is a powerful experience. In Canada is was almost unavoidable, but being out last night made me realize how easy it is to almost never hear the wind here if I am not seeking it out. Sitting outside alone last night also brought me face to face with fears that I did not experience often in Canada. A few weeks ago a helicopter flew over our neighbourhood late at night announcing over a loud speaker that a fugitive was loose in the area. I grew up on an island, where you would have to be a real idiot to commit a crime, because where are you going to go after you commit it? In other words, my tolerance threshold for violence and crime is non-existent. I had already been feeling apprehensive about being outside here at night, but since that episode, I have noticed that I have been choosing to stay inside a lot more at night. Sitting out there last night alone, I felt a part of me that had grown stronger on Prince Edward Island, wake back up.
As I watched the moon last night, my first thought was: that is us. That is earth. Proof that we exist. I wondered what people thought lunar eclipses were back when people believed that the earth was flat. Then I thought about how we are constantly in motion, and how easy it is to forget this because most of us are not conscious of the physical experience of motion as we move through our day and night. I also thought about a quote from the Baha'i writings that I have taped to the mirror on my dresser. It is extracted from a talk given by Abdu'l-Baha in London. He says that "the meditative faculty is akin to the mirror; if you put it before earthly objects, it will reflect them. Therefore if the spirit of man is contemplating earthly subjects he will be informed of these. But if you turn the mirror of your spirits heavenwards...the rays of the sun of Reality will be reflected in your hearts, and the virtues of the Kingdom will be obtained." Looking at the darkened moon last night made me think about the qualities that I reflect when I turn away from the source of my own light. It also made me think that being in shadow or turning away from a source of light does not mean the light is not there. It just means that a change of position is required if the object or person in shadow is to receive its rays. To watch a beautiful video of the lunar eclipse, click here.
This idea that the potential for something may be present long before this potential is realized keeps coming up. I read two stories in the last few weeks about this. One of these I mention in my blog entry Standing on the shoulders of giants. In it, Ken Robinson tells the story of the year that Death Valley received seven inches of rain instead of its average two inches. The result was that Death Valley came alive, becoming a sea of wildflowers. As Ken says, the rains proved that "Death Valley wasn't dead at all. It was asleep. It was simply waiting for the conditions of growth. When the conditions came, life returned..." to Death Valley. The other story that reflects this idea is a story that Rachel Naomi Remen tells in her book My Grandfather's Blessings: Stories of Strength, Refuge, and Belonging
. The story is about an acorn. Rachel explains that we are all more than we seem. She uses an acorn as an example. She says that what we can see and touch about an acorn does not hint at the secret of its potential. She explains that the secret "is not directly measurable, but given the proper conditions over time it may become visible." She goes on to say that "an acorn makes no sense unless we know that woven into the way it is made, there is something waiting to unfold that knows how to become an oak tree. An acorn is defined by this capacity. Something can be the size, shape, weight, texture and colour of an acorn, but without this hidden power to become an oak tree, it is not an acorn." (p.82). Both of these stories illustrate the idea that the potential to fully express our nature is present within all things, but sometimes it is not obvious what this is, or how it will become visible.
This morning my yoga class was all about recognizing and tapping into that inner strength that is there, even when it may not be immediately obvious to us. It was a very physically demanding class, and I finished it with shaky, tired limbs, but pushing on through and trusting that I did have hidden reserves, in places that I was not conscious of, radiated a certain powerful certainty that extended beyond the end of my practice and out into the rest of my morning (which, in retrospect, is probably why I visualized a lioness and almost roared at the unsuspecting student loan officer that I spoke to on the phone!)
So if I envision myself five years from now, and try to imagine what advice this woman would give me for the year ahead, I think it would look something like this:
Dear Ariana,
Sometimes in life we can see our strengths and capacities, but how we are supposed to use them to serve is not as clear. You have the capacity to contribute great things to the world as a writer, a farmer, a researcher, a daughter, a lover and a mother. As long as you consciously choose to turn towards the source of your light every day, you should not doubt that you will make a valuable contribution to your family, your community, and the world. You may not be able to see how you will pay off your student loans right now, but the answer is already inside of you. Remember to have a confident heart, to be steadfast in your beliefs, and to be faithful to yourself. Keep dreaming. Keep believing. Be courageous. Take risks. Be curious. And when you are feeling shaky, pray, ask for guidance, and then trust that you will be able to receive the answer when it arrives. Be patient. Know that the universe is abundant. Oh, and don't forget to play and laugh and be silly. A light heart is a joyful heart. Remember: Anything is possible!
Love,
Your wiser, more compassionate self!
Interestingly, when I contemplate writing a similar note to myself ten years ago, I would say all the same things. The only difference is that I would use stronger language and be more specific, in the hope that my younger self might actually listen to some of this advice!
Someone asked me once what my eight year old self would think of who I am now, if she were to have lunch with me today. Personally, I think she would be mightily pleased that I still have the dream of owning a giant trampoline some day!! And I know that she would have been hunkered down out there under the oaks with with me last night, watching the moon wade her way back out into the sunlight. What would your younger self have to say? If you would like to share what she tells you, I would love to hear her thoughts!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Reverb10, Day 12: A state of prayer
Prompt: Body integration. This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn't mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?
The author of this prompt is Patrick Reynolds:
The Knowledge Workers Survival Guide
@patrickcantype
YES. Absolutely. I cannot believe I have been thinking about this question all day, reflecting on my yoga practice, hiking, swimming, and all the other things that I do that make me feel present, and it took me until almost 11pm tonight to realize that the one time when I am completely integrated -- where I become a single, undivided being, is when I am praying.
When I am in a state of prayer, my body, which I envision as a temple for my soul; and my mind, whose purpose, in my understanding, is to facilitate the development of the spiritual capabilities, are working together to facilitate the experience of communion between my soul and its Creator.
The ultimate experience of this union of mind and body was when I was on pilgrimage in the Baha'i Holy Land this past spring. From the minute I began my ten days of pilgrimage, it was as if any consciousness of having a mental awareness and a physical body completely disappeared. I felt as if I was floating through my days. I was so intensely connected to the spiritual reality within and outside of myself that every faculty I have was being used to serve the intensity of my experience. So much so that the perfume of the gardens, the sound of the fountains bubbling against marble and tumbling down the mountainside, the melody of birdcall, the texture of cool stone beneath my feet, hand-woven carpets against my palms and forehead when I prostrated on the floor, and even the intensity of light flooding the rooms I moved through became a single wave of overwhelming power that swept me up and carried me, completely immersed in its majesty, until I departed from that blessed land.
I have the opportunity to immerse myself in this experience of physical, mental and spiritual unity every day when I sit in silence and enter the world of prayer, but in Haifa this past spring I was given the gift of immersing myself in this place every moment of every day for ten days straight, so it intensified the experience significantly.
I try to recall the sensations of being in Israel when I close my eyes to prayer. I imagine the saturating light pouring in from skylights above me; the richly woven Persian carpets beneath me; the rich perfume of roses hanging in the air around me. When I close my eyes every day for my obligatory prayer, and turn to face Bahji, when I pray in the morning as I begin my day, and at night before I lie down to rest, every illusion of there being a separation between my body, my mind and thoughts, and my soul seems to fade, and I find myself hanging in a profound and mysterious sensation of oneness. Oneness within, and oneness with everything and everyone outside of myself also. It is not limited to the confines of my physical body.
What is your experience of oneness?
The author of this prompt is Patrick Reynolds:
The Knowledge Workers Survival Guide
@patrickcantype
YES. Absolutely. I cannot believe I have been thinking about this question all day, reflecting on my yoga practice, hiking, swimming, and all the other things that I do that make me feel present, and it took me until almost 11pm tonight to realize that the one time when I am completely integrated -- where I become a single, undivided being, is when I am praying.
When I am in a state of prayer, my body, which I envision as a temple for my soul; and my mind, whose purpose, in my understanding, is to facilitate the development of the spiritual capabilities, are working together to facilitate the experience of communion between my soul and its Creator.
The ultimate experience of this union of mind and body was when I was on pilgrimage in the Baha'i Holy Land this past spring. From the minute I began my ten days of pilgrimage, it was as if any consciousness of having a mental awareness and a physical body completely disappeared. I felt as if I was floating through my days. I was so intensely connected to the spiritual reality within and outside of myself that every faculty I have was being used to serve the intensity of my experience. So much so that the perfume of the gardens, the sound of the fountains bubbling against marble and tumbling down the mountainside, the melody of birdcall, the texture of cool stone beneath my feet, hand-woven carpets against my palms and forehead when I prostrated on the floor, and even the intensity of light flooding the rooms I moved through became a single wave of overwhelming power that swept me up and carried me, completely immersed in its majesty, until I departed from that blessed land.
I have the opportunity to immerse myself in this experience of physical, mental and spiritual unity every day when I sit in silence and enter the world of prayer, but in Haifa this past spring I was given the gift of immersing myself in this place every moment of every day for ten days straight, so it intensified the experience significantly.
I try to recall the sensations of being in Israel when I close my eyes to prayer. I imagine the saturating light pouring in from skylights above me; the richly woven Persian carpets beneath me; the rich perfume of roses hanging in the air around me. When I close my eyes every day for my obligatory prayer, and turn to face Bahji, when I pray in the morning as I begin my day, and at night before I lie down to rest, every illusion of there being a separation between my body, my mind and thoughts, and my soul seems to fade, and I find myself hanging in a profound and mysterious sensation of oneness. Oneness within, and oneness with everything and everyone outside of myself also. It is not limited to the confines of my physical body.
What is your experience of oneness?
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