With Kindly Eyes

Look back on Time, with kindly eyes — 

He doubtless did his best — 

How softly sinks that trembling sun

In Human Nature’s West — 

~ Emily Dickinson (#1478)

We need a more compassionate view of all humans; where the focus is upon small gestures and we see with Kindly Eyes. We need compassion for ourselves, too. 

And yet, I judge myself as harshly as I do others, never putting myself aside from what “we” have done to the world, recognizing my part in the actions of my species: war, violence, projection. We keep repeating in spite of reflection and philosophy and waking up to our responsibilities. This huge unwieldy machine of the over-culture taints my every effort until all I want to do is disappear into folds of paper where possibility emerges. 

I get further behind with every step I take and Time is always cutting me off at the pass, making sure I don’t cross into the other realm. Maybe in my next life will be Peace? That’s something hopeful to consider. On the other hand, if I cannot help us shift our trajectory, if I cannot be part of the solution, will I find my next life a horror? Am I doing my best or hiding? Is solitude equal to my best effort? Am I enough? Am I doing enough? How do I lift up my Self toward a kinder life? Has my writing helped or hindered me or someone else? So many questions. I know nothing. That is my new beginning each time I collapse inward. Ask and open, listen.

Sit right here rest your bones. No one's ever so alone. 

You can take the world down off your shoulders.

I don't know why and how. All I know is here and now.

You can take the world down off your shoulders.

~ Carrie Newcomer (lyrics from “Angels Unaware” on the album Kindred Spirits: A Collection)

Out of the midst of my confusion, a warm little fellow curls up on my lap and my heart fills with love. This. This response of love is what keeps me going. When I feel my heart swell with love, it’s okay. I can get through another day. I say grace.

Finding Love or Allowing Love?

While it may seem like only a silly, albeit entertaining, series, Sex and the City is also about getting to know and be comfortable with one’s self and choices. Because I witness this growth process in myself, re-watching the series every few years reminds me of how we change yet stay the same. For many women, me included, we endure a long journey laden with stumbles, falls, and climbing up over the ledge, repeatedly, before we can give voice to our uniquely individual truth. And even after discovering our authentic voice, we lose and find it again how many times? And this becomes even more complex when falling in -- and out of -- love is added to the journey.

In 1998, when the series began for thirty-something Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha, I was thirty-seven. I had just been through four years of intense and major changes, had been living the single life for over a decade, and felt like I was in pretty good company with these four. Not similar on the outside, but on the inside. After all, they were more ambitious and stylish than I was, my spiritual inclinations set me apart from them, and I was a country-girl, but how could I not relate to them when I was also a single woman in her thirties trying to figure out who I was and maybe, just maybe, find love along the way? Add into the mix that in 1999 I met the love of my life, and I was hooked into every episode.

I just finished watching the series from start to finish again, including the two movies, and I laughed so hard I nearly cried sometimes! As Carrie says:

“The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all 

is the one you have with yourself. 

And if you find someone to love the you you love, 

well, that’s just fabulous.” 

Another aspect of this series that I now see, and I’m not sure I did the first time around, is how all of these women soften through their experiences while trying to retain their voices. This is not an easy task in the modern world, whether ten, twenty or even thirty years ago. When we allow love to find us, we are within the feminine essence of being; when we seek to find love, especially through a driven or desperate or demanding energy, that is the masculine. How does love come to us? And is it important to understand this?
Marion Woodman wrote that: 

“Women today are reaping the harvest of generations of rape. 

Grandmothers and mothers have adjusted to patriarchal values 

to the point of extinguishing their own femininity.”  

While at first glance, the women of Sex and the City might appear to be ultra-feminine … are they? Do clothes and make-up, style and sex appeal result in or from core feminine energy? Or do we need to look closer, to draw aside the veil? By the time the series wraps, each of the four women has found her own path to balancing the opposites of animus and anima; this meant they had to soften into their relationships and expectations, while remaining firm in Self. 

I wonder what I will think the next time I watch Sex and the City? Where will I be in my own life in another five or so years — will my voice be lost or found? What about you? 

Last, but far from least, is how much I like the friendship maintained between these women. No matter what their trials and tribulations, they were always available for and forgiving of each other. 

Here's to women, authenticity, feminine energy, and friendship!

Obligation?

Because of a recent situation with my own mother, and synchronistically, the problems two friends are having with their mothers, and another friend with her sister, I can’t help but think about obligation. What do we owe to ourselves and to others? Where does expectation set up a house of cards ready to tumble around us? How do we balance helping others with maintaining healthy boundaries for ourselves? Where can we transform relationships into compassion-derived rather than guilt-driven? How do we provide care from a space of love instead of duty?

I am reminded of one of the verses from the Tao Te Ching: 

When the greatness of the Tao is present,

action arises from one’s own heart.

When the greatness of the Tao is absent, 

action comes from the rules

of “kindness and justice.”

If you need rules to be kind and just, 

if you act virtuous,

this is a sure sign that virtue is absent.

Thus we see the great hypocrisy. 

When kinship falls into discord,

piety and rites of devotion arise. 

When the country falls into chaos,

official loyalists will appear; 

patriotism is born.

~ 18th Verse of the Tao Te Ching of Lao-tzu, from Wayne Dyer’s Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life

It seems to me that when we are expected to offer services, when we are pushed and shoved and guilted into behaviors, then the actions that were previously provided out of love become empty and tarnished with a dangerous, damaging energy. How do we provide kindness to ourselves then? How do we maintain the greatness of our heart energy?

I know there are no easy answers, and, certainly, every situation is different. With these thoughts, I also recalled a scene from Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner -- one that has stayed with me for decades: 

Embedding is not available, but the short YouTube of this scene is HERE; Sidney Poitier playing the role of the son speaking to his father, and following is the script: 

"You listen to me. You say you don’t want to tell me how to live my life. So what do you think you’ve been doing? You tell me what rights I’ve got or haven’t got, and what I owe to you for what you’ve done for me. Let me tell you something. I owe you nothing! If you carried that bag a million miles, you did what you’re supposed to do! Because you brought me into this world. And from that day you owed me everything you could ever do for me like I will owe my son if I ever have another. But you don’t own me! You can’t tell me when or where I’m out of line, or try to get me to live my life according to your rules. You don’t even know what I am, Dad, you don’t know who I am. You don’t know how I feel, what I think. And if I tried to explain it the rest of your life you will never understand. You are 30 years older than I am. You and your whole lousy generation believes the way it was for you is the way it’s got to be. And not until your whole generation has lain down and died will the dead weight of you be off our backs! You understand, you’ve got to get off my back! Dad… Dad, you’re my father. I’m your son. I love you. I always have and I always will. But you think of yourself as a colored man. I think of myself as a man. Now, I’ve got a decision to make, hm? And I’ve got to make it alone, and I gotta make it in a hurry. So would you go out there and see after my mother?"

May we all find the spirit within to somehow retain or recover our ability to act from our heart, and not from tainted obligation.

Feels Like Home

Brings tears to my eyes as my heart overflows with joy...

When the movie "Michael" with John Travolta was released in 1996, I could hardly wait until a copy was available on video and bought it immediately. One of my all-time faves ... and so is this song ... so when Ron and I met, I knew that this song had been showing me how our love would feel. At that time, I was still fragile spiritually, although seeking and growing, and a little cynical as regarded love and romance. Ron's love, generosity and depth has brought me through another shift toward opening, acceptance, joy and contemplative passages. The mystics could have written this song in love of the Infinite. We are all One... It feels like home when I am with Ron, or standing on a mountain, or gazing into the windows of the soul, or being still. All One. Home.

Memories of Loss

Today, those of us in Hospice volunteer training participated in a bereavement session. Each one brought a photo of a loved one who had died. I brought a photo of Dad. I had never been in one of these before and was surprised at the deep sense of connection I felt with the other women. Although none of our losses were the same, the thread of memories joined us. I didn't know what I would say. While speaking of Dad I experienced profound grief recalling when he could no longer communicate with me in email; I had been so excited over this form of relating when it developed between us that when it was broken, it seemed I lost him before he died (his being hard of hearing, we weren't able to speak on the phone). I wrote of Dad in an earlier blog post and he saunters cross my mind every day; I miss his messages and miss knowing that when Mom visits, he won't be with her anymore even though we talk of him all the time so he is definitely with us in spirit and in our hearts. He is present, though. I love you, Dad.

Pop!

Remove those blocks,

get out of the way.

Hello, World!

I'm ready to play!

Jump, shout and sing

with the birdies on wing,

Spin, dance, 'make hay'

with the leaves' disarray.

Here we go, Gift,

filled with joyous days,

abandon and lift

up our arms in praise!

Words flowing busy

from a faucet unstopped,

bubbly and fizzy,

champagne blood - POP!

I see you! I see me!

We are one! Awakened! Free!

_______________________

Wonderful article "What is Love?"