While there are days when I am tired or discouraged that I may think that I work in order to be able to buy the things I need to live, I know that isn’t really true. I have no doubt that I live to work. I have been a psychotherapist since 1987. My primary modality is group therapy based on a developmental model that includes the concept of “inner children.” I believe that one of the most important elements in healing is for clients to learn how to parent those vulnerable “children” inside of themselves.
Most people start therapy because they are depressed and/or anxious. They may have learned to cover their pain with addictive behaviors such over-working, over-thinking, eating disorders or substance abuse. They frequently have trouble in relationships and often feel alone and lonely. Past traumas may cause them to experience flashbacks. They often have poor self esteem and think they are unworthy and will never be good enough. They may be very critical of themselves and others.
“A true genius admits that he/she knows nothing.” Albert Einstein
“It is unwise to be too sure of one’s own wisdom. It is healthy to be reminded that the strongest might weaken and the wisest might err.” Mahatma Gandhi
“I will not ask thee for improved memory, only for a little more humility and less self-assurance when my own memory doesn’t agree with that of others. Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be wrong.” An Anonymous Abbess
“Acting with humility does not in any way deny our own self-worth. Rather it affirms the inherent worth of all persons. Some would consider humility to be a psychological malady that interferes with “success.” However, wealth, power or status gained at the expense of others brings only anxiety- never peace and love.” Commentary on Christian Bible Reference Site
Humility, among other things, is the absence of arrogance. One of the ways I am most likely to be arrogant is to hold on to a belief that I am right and others are wrong. I may verbalize my opinion and then stay silent, but internally I am very likely to be holding on to my rightness.
My journey with blogging actually began when my son Sreejit started his blog, The Seeker’s Dungeon, in September of 2012. I was so impressed by his poetry and his other posts. He had written Of Mind or Matter by then, so I knew he could write well, but the breath of his knowledge was far greater than I realized. I loved reading the supportive comments he received from the Word Press community of bloggers and I could see his confidence growing exponentially.
In August of 2013, Sreejit started Dungeon Prompts. Every Thursday he would send out a prompt encouraging bloggers to “explore the recesses of your mind and get back with a poem, story, essay or creative offering.” I enjoyed reading the posts the other bloggers submitted. He also encouraged those who didn’t have blogs to include their responses to the prompt in the comments section. From time to time, I also participated in that way.
Later in the fall, Sreejit started encouraging me to start my own blog. At first I said “No”, and then later changed it to “Someday.” Soon I had to admit to myself that I was getting interested in the idea.
Towards the end of February of 2013, I had an exciting idea. I would start my blog without telling Sreejit I was going to do it. He would find out when I responded to his Dungeon Prompt for the week. The topic that week was Gratitude. What a perfect subject for me to address in my first post!
My intention in starting my blog was to have a way to participate in the Dungeon Prompts. I didn’t have a clue how much I would end up loving it. Blogging has become a major part of my life. So why do I blog?
Because we have blogging in common, I feel so much more connected to my son. Our relationship has strengthened and deepened and we “talk” through email or “What’s App” several times a week.
When I taught at the University of Washington I published lots of professional articles. After I became a psychotherapist, I wrote numerous personal growth articles. During my first decade with Amma, I wrote three books about my journey with her. At that point I felt finished with writing. In fact, there were times when I thought I had no more to say. Thanks to my blog I am writing again. And I find I have plenty to say!
I have learned so much since I started blogging. I have delved deep inside myself and my own past and as a result have grown significantly. I have taken Word Press Blogging 101 and 102, Writing 101 and 102, and Photography 101 courses. And I have learned from reading posts written by other bloggers.
I’ve had numerous readers tell me that they appreciate having the opportunity to learn from reading my blog. So through my blog I teach others.
I have always been a creative person, primarily in crafting. Blogging has given me an opportunity to be creative in so many different ways; in my writing, through photography, and even by writing a bit of poetry.
When Sreejit started blogging, I was impressed by the community of people that he became involved with. The same has happened for me. I have blogging friends from all over the world. I have even met one of them in person!
So I blog as a way of connecting with my son and because it is an opportunity to write, learn, teach and be creative. It has also given me a chance to create a larger community for myself.. But most of all, I blog because I love blogging! Rarely has an activity given me so much pleasure. Thank you for introducing me to the world of blogging Sreejit.
I have very few memories of my childhood, most of which was spent as an “army brat” moving from place to place. As I have been thinking about those years lately, I realize that there is a theme in some of my happier days.
While I don’t know for sure, it seems like most of those pleasant memories may have occurred during the four years I lived in Germany. We were transferred to Pirmasens, Germany when I was in third grade and we moved back to the U.S. after I graduated from sixth grade.
Some of my childhood memories:
• Making forts. When I was really young my brothers and I made forts inside our house, often under tables. Later we made forts in the woods near the apartment building where we lived.
• Playing outside. There were times when I would leave the house in the morning and only come home for meals and at bedtime. I would play with my friends in their houses and outdoors. In those days, children were given a level of freedom that would be unheard of in today’s world.
• During fourth grade, I remember making a large system of small trenches in the school playground. I then filled the beginning trench with water and watched as the water flowed throughout the network.
• I loved butterflies.
• In fourth grade, I also remember crawling under the schoolyard fence and going into the woods to collect snails. When I crawled back under the fence, to return to the schoolyard, I saw my teacher, Mrs. Pollen, and my mother, who also taught at the school, watching me. Uh, oh.
• My grandfather was a dock master. When we visited my grandparents during my younger years, I would catch fish using a drop line off of the side of the dock.
• I remember hunting for crawfish. That could have been in North Carolina before we moved to Germany or it could have been in Georgia, the place we were stationed after Germany.
As I think of these events, I realize how important outdoor activities and nature were to me when I was young. While it did not continue to be a life theme, there were exceptions.
I had loved my experiences of camping with the Girl Scouts and when I traveled across the country with my church youth group in 1965. After Al and I married in 1971 we took trips to Mt. Baker and to National Parks such as Zion, Bryce Canyon, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, the Redwoods and the Grand Tetons. At least one of those trips we took after Sreejit was born. In some places we camped, in others we stayed in cabins.
When Al and I bought our house in 1973, I loved gardening and canning.
In the 80’s I took my children and one of their friends to places like Zion National Park.
In the early 90’s, I had a strong desire to have a tree house in the magnolia tree in my back yard. I had planned to have a simple structure built, but the carpenter I hired couldn’t do simple. He constructed a beautiful seven by seven foot structure that even had a skylight!
I slept in the tree house from April to October for five years. That era ended the night two large raccoons blocked my path to the tree house. It wasn’t the first time, but it was one time too many. I started sleeping in the house again. At first the cells of my body screamed with grief. Being contained within the walls felt like moving from freedom to prison.
In the 90’s there was a period of three or four years in row where I explored Bryce Canyon on my own.
For the most part though, my outdoor activities had petered out over the years. I was too busy with work, raising children, and life in general. As I reflect on how I am living now, I can see that the spark has reignited. Gardening is again a priority for me. I have become fascinated by nature, whether it be flowers or creatures such as ants and slugs. A considerable amount of my time is spent in writing and editing the PNW GreenFriends newsletter. A part of me that has been long dormant is waking up.
I grieve that children nowadays don’t have the freedom that my generation had as children. Children are not allowed to roam freely for most of the day. Because of all the violence that surrounds us, parents naturally feel a need to keep their children close and well supervised.
But that is not the only difference. Today, children, teens and even adults are so focused on technology that there may be no time or interest in immersing themselves in outdoor play and nature. Texting, videogames and social media all too often fill their days.
Several years ago, I was at a church when the pastor gave a sermon to the young children. He talked about how in the “old days” children spent their days playing outside on this green stuff. He continued talking about grass as if it was something the children had never seen. He then encouraged them to go outside every day and do activities on that green stuff, activities that would cause them to sweat, something else he thought they were unfamiliar with. While it was a funny sermon, it seemed like an important one to me, then and now. If, as a culture, we keep going the direction we are going, where will we end up?
It is my hope and prayer that all of us will either reconnect with, or experience for the first time, the joy that comes when we immerse ourselves in the natural world, and by doing so may we discover that all beings on this earth are interconnected and can learn to live in harmony with one another.
I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree in 1970, followed by a Master of Nursing in 1974. After receiving my Master’s degree, I taught undergraduate nursing students at the University of Washington for five years. I enjoyed teaching, conducting research and writing for publication, all requirements of my Assistant Professor position. After teaching there for five years, I decided to take a job as a Maternal-Newborn Clinical Specialist at Swedish Hospital Medical Center in Seattle.
To progress along a tenure track at the University of Washington, I would have had to earn a PhD. At some point in the early 80’s, I decided to start working on the PhD. I don’t remember what my reasoning was at the time, but I imagine it was to keep my options open. Afterall, I might want to teach at the University again someday. I continued to work at Swedish Hospital part time as I started the PhD program coursework. I don’t remember what the degree was called in those days but I know that it focused on nursing research and that I chose a track that had a special emphasis in statistics.
At some point during those years, I also started my personal therapy. I loved that process. It helped me move through the pain of my early years and I was able to make good friends and connect in a way I hadn’t in the past. One day, I had an insight that hit me like a sledge hammer. Even though I was doing very well in my studies, I realized I didn’t want a PhD and I didn’t want nursing research to be my life’s work.
In that moment, I realized I was studying for the degree in hopes that my father would acknowledge my existence if I had a PhD. My education had always been important to him and some of my earliest memories were of me asking him to make up math problems I could work on.
While I don’t think we were ever close, our relationship became even more strained as I moved into my teen and young adult years. We had battles when I came home from college during summer vacations, usually over civil rights issues. During one of those altercations, he told me to get out of the house. My mother intervened so I didn’t actually move out. The last straw came in 1971 when I told him I was going to marry Al, an African-American man I had met in Seattle. Simply by my having made that statement, he declared that he would not speak to me again, and he didn’t. My father died in 1999 without ever having said a word to me or my children.
Realizing that my PhD study was so tied to a child-like yearning for my father’s approval ended my interest in the degree. I was loving my psychotherapy experience and in time it became my passion. I did what it took to get the credentialing to become a nurse psychotherapist (Clinical Nurse Specialist in Psychiatric and Mental Health Nursing) and I’ve been doing that work ever since.
I see the moment when I recognized the tie between my PhD program and the unfinished business from my past as one of those life changing moments, one that propelled me into work that I felt passionate about and believe I was born to do.
We are all gifted with certain magical powers. We may not have fully harnessed them, or we may rebel against the powers we’ve been given, but we know that they are there. The power may be so potent that we are scared to use it, or we may have come to terms and learned the intricacies of it. We may have used them for evil or for good, but when we think that we can go unnoticed, we have surely tested them out.
Magical powers go beyond a talent for something. It involves bending reality to your will. When your will comes in tune with the cosmic will you may notice your powers flow like a raging river. Whether you hide it or not, you know that it’s there. So this week, tell us about your magical powers.
To me, the magic in life is the work of the Divine, whether it be a seed turning into a beautiful flower or the wondrous nature of all life forms. All the synchronicities that occur in my life feel like a Divine play. I will never forget my last trip to India when I was told I would be upgraded to Business Class if I was willing to sit in a seat where the video didn’t work. Soon I discovered that the man sitting next to me, who was also gifted with an upgrade, was a Sanskrit student and teacher. In fact, he was teaching from the identical Sanskrit textbook that I was struggling with at the time. He had even gone to the same Sanskrit camp I had attended the previous summer! To me that whole scenario felt like magic, but I believe it was actually a gift from the Divine.
I see all of us as instruments of the Divine, tasked with being His/Her hands. When we do that work it may seem like magic to others, or even to ourselves. So in that spirit, what kind of magic is it that I do?
I thought back to my 65th birthday when a small group of friends celebrated that milestone with me. At one point in the evening, they talked about me. It was like being a witness to one’s own memorial service. I was amazed at what they said about me and the impact they believed I have had on their lives. I also thought about things other people have said about me in the past and to a post (When They Think of Me….) I wrote last year after having asked friends what objects they thought of when they thought of me. At that time, one person responded:
Well, my first thought of you is your abundant beautiful hair, but that’s not an object. When I just stopped for a moment and visualized you, I immediately saw you with a tool in your hand. The tool could be anything – a garden trowel, a spatula, a pen, a hammer, a paint brush, a computer, one of those long grips for picking up litter – but you very much (my impression anyway) – interact with the world and use many kinds of tools. So it would be Karuna, Jill-of-all-trades, with a tool.
I believe the following may be seen as my magic:
Sometimes my psychotherapy clients think that I must be able to see right through them, or read their minds.
The craft projects I do such as making tiny dolls, crocheting, knitting, quilting, etc.
The amount of energy I have and what I accomplish with it.
My use of words in the books I have written and on my blog.
To me though, that isn’t magic. All of it happens when I am “in the flow” and willing to be used as an instrument, i.e. being the hands, of the Divine. May I continue to live in this manner until the end of my days.
Many years ago, I was given a handout at a workshop that contained this prayer. I laughed when I read it then and I laugh when I think of it now. I can so relate.
I believe finding humor even in a dark or frustrating situation can help us lighten up.
As I mentioned in a previous post, I have a long history of overdoing. At one point in my life, I was holding three jobs at the same time. When I have become involved with organizations, I have often done more than is reasonable for one person to do. My overdoing has led to serious illnesses that have been breaking points, where slowing down became a necessity rather than a choice. I believe it was this pattern of overdoing that led to me to having Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for five or more years in the mid to late eighties, and to the high blood pressure I am dealing with today.
To some degree, the types of overdoing I am referring to were caused by a pattern of rescuing. In his Drama Triangle construct, Stephen Karpman describes the Rescuer in this way:
“The rescuer’s line is ‘Let me help you.’ A classic enabler, the Rescuer feels guilty if he/she doesn’t go to the rescue. Yet his/her rescuing has negative effects: It keeps the Victim dependent and gives the Victim permission to fail. The rewards derived from this rescue role are that the focus is taken off of the rescuer. When he/she focuses their energy on someone else, it enables them to ignore their own anxiety and issues. This rescue role is also very pivotal, because their actual primary interest is really an avoidance of their own problems disguised as concern for the victim’s needs.”
Jean Illsley Clarke once taught me five questions to ask myself when I think I might be rescuing.
Was I asked to do what I am doing?
Do I want to do it?
Am I doing more than my share?
Do others appreciate me for what I am doing? (Rescuers are often not appreciated.)
Am I doing something for someone that they can do for themselves?
Answering yes to one of those questions does not mean that I am rescuing, but if yes is the answer to many of them, the chances are that I am. So shifting my pattern of rescuing was an important part of my healing journey.
From a therapy perspective, focusing on self-care by stopping rescuing makes sense. Even though I valued being in service, it was still my job to keep myself healthy. When I began to look at self-care and selflessness from a spiritual perspective though, I started to have doubts. There are many who have forsaken their health, their comforts and sometimes even their lives, to live a life of service. They have shown us what is possible for one person to accomplish in a life time. They have been, or will be, a source of inspiration long after they are gone from this world.
To me, Amma, my spiritual teacher and mentor, is one of those people. Her form of blessing is through a hug. Amma has hugged more than 34,000,000 people in her lifetime. She needs almost no food or sleep. If she is not giving darshan (hugs) she is serving humanity in some other way, including her massive network of humanitarian projects known as Embracing the World. Her life is a model of selflessness.
When I thought about people present and the past who have inspired others through their selflessness, the following individuals came to mind. All have taught the importance of serving humanity.
John 13:34 “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.
Acts 20:35 “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”
Matthew 25:35-40: ”For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”
“Everybody can be great…because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”
“Prayer in action is love, and love in action is service.”
As I pondered the importance of self-care versus selflessness, I could rationalize that I am not Amma, Jesus, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, St. Francis or Mother Theresa and therefore could not expect myself to serve at that level.
My thoughts on this topic took another turn, though, in the late 90’s when I read a book, A Promise is a Promise, by Wayne Dyer. It was an account of a teenager who in 1970 asked her mother to promise that she would never leave her. Soon thereafter the 17 year old slipped into a diabetic coma, one she never came out of. The mother kept her word and, with help, cared for her daughter until she herself died 25 years later. (A Promise is a Promise was written while the mother was still alive.) Then others cared for the daughter until she died on November 21, 2012, forty-two years after she became comatose.
Reading that book had a profound impact on me. I still remember Dr. Dyer saying that walking into their home felt like being in the holiest of temples.
When I first started reading A Promise is a Promise, I made the judgment that the mother was not taking care of herself appropriately. But as I continued to read, my attitude began to change. Her actions seemed like unconditional love, perhaps the highest form of spiritual practice. While I wasn’t aware of it at the time, I now see that her actions actually conformed to the guiding questions I had learned from Jean Clarke:
The mother had been asked and had agreed to what she was doing
She wanted to do it
Even though she devoted her life to caring for her daughter, she had help.
Her daughter would have undoubtedly appreciated her efforts
She was clearly doing something for her daughter that the girl could not do for herself
Reading about a “regular” person who was so selfless, presented me with another dilemma. When I lived a life of uncontrolled doing, even if when it was in the spirit of service, I became sick to the point I couldn’t function. How do I know when to focus on self-care and when to make service the priority?
I continue to ponder that question to this day. I believe for me it has to be about balance. I must practice good self-care by nourishing my body, mind and soul and at the same time make sure that I am not over-committing or over-stressing myself. I must also continue to watch out for my tendency to rescue. I can be in service to others and still do my best to keep myself healthy.
“We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.”
― Martin Buber
I have a tendency to mull over past mistakes. I am even more likely to do that when I have made mistakes that hurt my children in some way. There are times I still cringe when I think of ways I treated them during their childhood and teenage years.
It is true that I, like most parents, did the best I could even though I didn’t have the knowledge or skills to do a perfect job of parenting. And like most parents, I was often too tired and worn down to always do the right thing. I have no doubt that I was a “good enough parent” but when I am “in my stuff” I expect myself to have been perfect.
For me, redemption comes when I see how they are in the world as adults. Sreejit is 40 years old and has lived in Amma’s California or India ashram since he was 19. He is committed to his spiritual path and to serving the world by supporting Amma’s charitable projects. He does this by being one of the main cooks for the Western Canteen in Amma’s Amritapuri ashram. In addition, he is a gifted musician, author, song writer, blogger and poet.
Chaitanya is 37 years old and has lived in Amma’s Amritapuri ashram since her 21st birthday. She too is avidly committed to her spiritual path and to supporting Amma in any way possible. She is a born leader, responsible for managing Amritapuri’s Western Canteen and Café. In addition, she is a gifted writer, director and choreographer of Broadway style musicals. When people need support, they often seek her out.
Both of them are loved and respected by all who know them; and they are wise beyond their years. I have had numerous people tell me “If you ever question that you have done things right (in life), all you need to do is take a look at your kids.”
Both Chaitanya and Sreejit have told me how valuable it was for them to have had the life experiences they had as they were growing up. I regularly see them using knowledge, skills, and attitudes that have their roots in things they learned from their dad and me. They took those teachings and then developed them as they became the people they are today.
As Buber said, “We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.” When mistakes I made in the past come to mind, I need to remind myself to look at the bigger picture. My children learned from any mistakes I made and are better people because of them. My being perfect would not have even been in their best interest. I only need to look at the “fruit of my actions” to know I was a good parent!
While mystical experiences are not the basis of spiritual process and can even be a distraction, in my early years with Amma I believe they were a means for Spirit to get my attention and pull me in. They showed my normal logical mind that there were realms I knew nothing about and that I had to let go of my rigid way of seeing the world and learn to allow my life to unfold.
Last week, when I read Sreejit’s Dungeon Prompts: Only for the Fierce of Heart challenge, I thought of an event that occurred in 1994. Before I tell you that story let me say that I believe it takes courage and a fierce commitment to one’s spiritual journey to be willing to go places that take you out of the realm of normal experience, and also to be committed to doing “whatever it takes” along the way. Some of the processes that were happening to me in those days were public, and since I am very introverted, I believe my willingness to let them occur, with discrimination, exemplifies my fierce determination to do whatever it takes.
After I met Amma in 1989, I experienced tremendous separation grief whenever she would leave. I am so thankful that Spirit led me to places where that empty hole inside of me could continue to fill when I was not in her physical presence.
One of those places was the Power House Church of God in Christ. The Church of God in Christ (COGIC) is a black Pentecostal denomination. I never thought I would go to a conservative Christian church again, but other than the fact that I was uncomfortable with many of their sermons, I loved it. The people were so loving towards me and their music filled me with joy.
At some point, my feet started spontaneously moving to the music while I was seated. Many months later, I stood up and let the dance take over my entire body. Soon I began “Dancing in the Spirit” along with other parishioners. My form of dancing often turned into whirling. That process not only removed the grief, it led to exhilarating joy.
In summer of 1994, when I attended Amma’s New York City programs, I decided to go a service at a COGIC church in Harlem. I had visited that same church the year before. At that time, I found it to be similar to Power House, but more restrained. Their music tended to be soulful rather than celebratory and I had not seen anyone dance.
This time, a friend decided to come with me. At the beginning of the service, the minister welcomed both of us and told us to have a good time. Like the previous year, there were no other white faces in the congregation.
During the time since my last visit, I had begun to experience the spontaneous dance almost every time I went to church. As I looked around this church, I saw the ushers were children. At Power House the ushers were adults. Part of their job was to protect the people who were dancing in the Spirit. I concluded that dancing was probably not a regular occurrence here and decided to restrain it should it occur.
I was not prepared, however, for the fact that all of my recent contact with Amma made that unconscious part of me much more accessible. The minute the music started, my body began to dance. While I probably could have shut it down, the energy was so strong I wasn’t sure about that. I decided to let it come. Later, my friend said people looked at her, concerned that I was okay. She just stood there helplessly indicating I was fine.
The energy became stronger than my body could keep up with, so I dropped into a position of prostration, i.e. bowing down with my forehead to floor. The energy inside of me began to calm down.
While I had no doubt that my dancing in that church was acceptable and that the congregation would probably enjoy telling the story of the day the white girl danced in their church for years, part of me was embarrassed. I was once told that the difference between shock and embarrassment is that shock drains life force energy whereas embarrassment may enhance it. A person experiencing shock turns white and “death-like.” With embarrassment, the fear is joined by a bit of pleasure. Instead of turning white, the person experiencing embarrassment turns red from the increase in blood-flow. My experience at the Harlem church was definitely embarrassment not shock. I felt full of life!
At the end of the service, the minister, with a smile on his face, said, “We told her to have a good time, and she did!” I have relished that memory for years.
As I was writing this post, “Hold My Mule” by Shirley Caesar came to mind. The recording starts with a story and turns into song. I have used it in many workshops over the years and was delighted to find it on YouTube. I think it is a good example of being fierce of heart so will use it to end my post!
“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.” “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”-William Shakespeare
Living, Learning and Letting Go 