Slug Names and How I love My Mother.

Tourists feed the scabbing seagulls in Devonport. Auckland city in the background.

As I may have mentioned I have committed to helping mum sort out her flat. She doesn’t want to ask anyone for help, but because I keep showing up, she’s letting me do more.

A couple of people in the family used to offer help, but  they didn’t understand what’s going on for mum and what the ‘holding on’ is all about. Everyone’s security, identity, way of staying sane in an insane world is to try and cling onto something (which makes you insane!). You can imagine the world spinning and these little fleas of humanity are sucking on for dear life, doing their best to extract what they can before their time is up, completely consumed and consuming. Some of us invest ourselves completely in what we do in order to define who we are. It’s what we’ve been taught and how capitalism keeps thriving. Advertising wouldn’t do so well if we felt as beautiful as we actually are, if we knew we weren’t fleas infecting the planet with our greed and misery. I digress.

What I wanted to tell you was how much I love my mum. She is fucking hilarious and cute. I know that she has ‘issues’ (who doesn’t?) but let me tell you why I love her so much.

 Amongst one of the many piles of paper to be sorted through is a list.

In red pen the title reads “Suggestions for Slug Names”. Below that is the list which reads as follows:

Igor                                                                Is he a boy or a girl

Mr Fluffy                      

Bottom

Gordon

Baldrik

Garlik

Marion

Audrey

Stinky Slinky

When I read this, I smiled and then re-read it. I wondered if she had crossed out  ‘Mr Fluffy’  because that’s what she called a spider that once took up residence in the corner of a kitchen window. She accidentally killed Mr Fluffy one day when using fly spray and told me she nearly cried about it and then said “don’t be ridiculous!” to herself. I said I would have cried if I wanted to.

Finding that list of slug names fills my heart with all that is good about my mother. I think of how she has always been my greatest fan, laughed the hardest and longest at antics performed for her amusement. She didn’t send me to kindy (or pre-school I think they call it in America). She said it was primarily selfish, that she really enjoyed my company and imagined she could teach me just as well.  She didn’t think of the fact that I might not know how to relate to children my own age (which I didn’t). I used to resent that. Years later I would complain that I hadn’t had a normal upbringing, that I didn’t understand the concept of school and used to run away as often as possible. I was terrified of school assembly and remember once hiding behind smelly raincoats in the corridor. An older boy asked what I was doing. I think I said “hiding”. The corridor smelled of damp raincoats and old bananas. I could feel my face burning with embarrassment.

Fortunately I have since figured out that no amount of pre-school could have prepared me for this life. What I have also figured out is that no one had a ‘normal’ upbringing. 

Some of my upbringing was challenging of course, but we all have different kinds of ‘hard’. I used to imagine that rich people had it easy, but they may find something else to complain about (a ‘problem’ dissolves, another appears!).

Growing up relatively poor (by NZ standards) I sometimes wished for things like ‘the right shoes’, but it also pushed me into a deeper state of ‘being’ at a younger age. Acceptance of what is. No. You cannot have that. No. We cannot afford it. No, you have to make something or create something, I can’t buy you things. I was the least bored child you ever met and very rarely complained or asked for anything.

Robert’s death was also a pivotal point in my life. He was my uncle, mum’s youngest brother. It was the first time I saw a dead body and I knew; he is not here. The adults were devastated. A terrible accident and he’d only just turned 13. I was 10 years old, and my child soul knew it was okay, but as I watched the grief and on-going misery I felt a heaviness descend. They said one thing but acted as if he were truly gone. Fortunately mum taught me that it was okay to ask questions, and to do our best to understand each other. In her haze of grief she never recovered from Robert’s death, but she continued to be greatly affectionate and teacher-strict with me.

It is because of my mother that I love music so much. It is because of her that I appreciate the funny little things in life. Just last night we went outside and looked at a hedgehog in her courtyard. We admired a big spider hanging by the wall, its shadow playing a twin. We got excited about one of those make over house shows that she’s addicted to.

 It is also because of her that I appreciate the bigger things, like making sure you love people deep and hard because, yes, they do die. There is only ‘taking notice’ of what is and making peace with it. You start to look at language and slogans with a smile. Instead of ‘Just Do It’, you think ‘no, just be it’. Instead of ‘because I’m worth it’ I might go for

 ‘worth is a measure, and I cannot be measured. I am beyond measure. I am worth less. I have no worth because worth is nothing to do with Me. I am that I am as someone once wrote in a very old book.”

I also like how my mum has been straight with me about things that matter. The only time she got pissed off with me about being inappropriate was when I asked if she gave blow jobs (I was about 11). She was 27 when I asked her that. She replied that it was her business (and reminded me not to read her adult magazines. Too late.)

Yes. I love my mum. She is not easy to be around. She has issues. She is addicted to buying tissues. But there is so much love. 

Light is shining through the prisms on the window sill. The cat is sleeping with her legs stretched out; she is snoring very softly. I can hear birds having a little conversation. My mother has a list of slug names. I think my favorite is Gordon.

Love, Pain and that song by Wreckless Eric.

It's been a month now since The Rooster and I have seen or spoken to each other. I have missed him and did all that I could think of to communicate my thoughts and needs clearly, and I'm sure he felt he was doing the same. Now we've reached the point where we just have to agree that we want to communicate with kindness and end on a good note (musical pun intended). Since we can't agree on some values based ideas (which is fine, it's one of those negotiations everyone has to work out as they get to know each other) we truly might end up better as friends. I don't really want to be friends too quickly, not when I'm attracted to someone, but it can eventually work when enough time has passed and a new platonic intention has been set by both parties.

I have really enjoyed the romance and friendship we had for four months though! It was truly lovely. 

What's incredible is that all this Eckhart Tolle stuff about being in the Now is really showing up for me. It's no longer an idea. I feel that sense of presence and peace even if I'm crying on the surface, even if pain rises up in my heart or ridiculous ideas spin in my head. I'm able to notice it faster than I used to. In the past a heart break would normally see me crying every day, awake in the small hours wishing the man would fulfill some kind of rom com fantasy. I would put on songs in the car and really indulge in my pain, sort of 'enjoying' it if that makes sense. It does make sense if you look at the culture we live in. Indulgence in surface pleasures and pain abound. 

I used to be afraid that if  I accessed a deep inner peace that I might become drone or Spock-like. It's not like that at all. I'm still me. I'm still intense and probably in my head way too much, but as I notice it,   I'm able to allow destructive emotions to pass through me much faster than I used to. 

You know how a child falls over and for a few seconds they don't know what's happened yet? They ly there and it takes a moment before thought and analysis kick in?
"What happened?"
Usually a parent or caregiver will do one of two things - too much sympathy or too little.
My step grandad was the type who'd say "hey, is the concrete okay?" with a completely straight face (only it wasn't straight because he had a massive stroke when he was 9 years old).
Mum was sympathetic from what I can remember, making the right cooing noises and giving affection. 

When I care for children and they get hurt, I rub my hands together like Mr Miyagi in The Karate Kid.
I tell them I'm getting my healing ready for them (after checking the severity of injury of course). This usually surprises them and they look at me with wide eyes. You carefully place your hands just over the affected area and send in love. You tell them that's what you're doing. As you do it you ask them to breathe deeply and to let the love go in. They do. You say "does that feel better?" and they say "yes" and are immediately over it and ready to play again. 

I feel a bit like that with emotional and mental pain now. I fall over. I stop. I check. I don't have to send love in, because all I need to do is locate it where it already resides. Found it. Breathe. I'm in.

Fighting Fair

Meditating on the stones!

In relationships (romantic or otherwise) I do realise we all need to compromise. I suppose the question you have to ask is 'how much?'. 

I am particularly interested in this because of the work I did last year with victims of domestic abuse. Domestic abuse isn't just about getting a smack from your partner, it can be more subtle than that.

 If you don't know if the person you love is 'fighting fair', then check the domestic abuse information. It's really useful and helps you to identify behaviours and traits that are not acceptable. Many of the women I taught English and Visualisation skills to last year were with men who called them names, with held affection and money, flaunted affairs in front of them. They didn't need to hit them because they were 'beating them from the inside'. Often these relationships had a really lovely side too, because despite it all, many of these women did say "I still love him".

How Can Someone Identify and Respond to Verbal Abuse?

 By Cathy Meyer.

A master at verbal abuse can damage your self-esteem while, at the same time, appear to care deeply for you. The use of words to punish is a very covert attempt to control and regardless of how loving your spouse may appear to be, verbal abuse is wrong and can be just has harmful as physical abuse.

• Any negative form of name calling is unacceptable. If you feel that it is a put down, then it most likely is. There are names that are obvious and, without question abusive. Then there are the covert, veiled attempts to put a spouse down that are harder to identify. Verbal abusers love to use constructive criticism to beat a spouse down. If your spouse is constantly criticizing you, “for your own good,” be careful. This is the most insidious form of verbal abuse.
• Using words to shame. Critical, sarcastic, mocking words meant to put you down either alone or in front of other people.
• Yelling, swearing and screaming. I call this the “walking on eggs shells” syndrome because you are living with someone who goes verbally ballistic for very little cause.
• Using threats to intimidate. No threat should be taken likely, even if your spouse tells you they are only joking, especially if it causes you to change behaviors or to feel on guard in the relationship.
• Blaming the victim. Your spouse blows his/her top and then blames you for their actions and behavior. If you were only perfect they wouldn’t lose control!
• Your feelings are dismissed. Your spouse refuses to discuss issues that upset you. They avoid discussion of any topic where they might have to take responsibility for their actions or words.
• You often wonder why you feel so bad. You bury your feelings, walk on egg shells and work so hard at keeping the peace that every day becomes an emotional chore. You feel depressed and have even wondered if you are crazy.
• Manipulating your actions. The persistent and intense use of threatening words to get you to do something or act in a way you find uncomfortable. This form of verbal abuse is common at the end of a marriage. If your spouse doesn’t want a divorce they will say whatever it takes to play on your emotions, to get you to stay in the marriage. All in an attempt to get you to comply with their desires, regardless of what is best for you as an individual.

Responding to Verbal Abuse:

If your spouse, the person you are closest to habitually, verbally abuses you and dismisses your feelings, you will begin to see yourself and your needs as unimportant, of little consequence and irrelevant. When you finally recognize and come to terms with the idea that you are being verbally abused you need to also become focused on getting help. Here are some steps you can take if faced with verbal abuse:
• Abuse is never justified so, you should never feel that it is your fault.
• Let the abuser know how hurtful their words are and discuss with them the fact that it is unacceptable to you. Set boundaries on what you will and will not accept from your abuser.
• Seek counseling, either together or separately.
• Surround yourself with a support system of family and friends. Discuss with them what is happening and how you are feeling.
• If the verbal abuse escalates to physical abuse, leave. Your personal safety is far more important than the relationship.
• Do not engage in conflict with your abuser. If your spouse becomes angry stay calm, walk away and don’t give him/her what they want…a reaction from you.
• Take back your power. If you react to the abuser, you are rewarding them. Letting them know they have power over your emotions. Don’t allow the abuser to have control over how you feel.
• Leave the marriage. If setting boundaries, getting therapy and refusing to respond to the abuse doesn’t work, then it is time to consider divorce. There are times when the best thing you can do for yourself is, break all ties with your abuser. If you make this decision hire anattorney familiar with domestic violence, stay in close contact with your support system and focusing on learning good coping skills.

Dreamt I had a knob, but it wasn't even mine!

Do I look bored and miserable enough? Or sort of ghosty? I was going for ghosty.

Never Mind The Symbollix!, February 13th 2013.

Last night, before I went to sleep, I worked on my ‘dreams book’. It’s a reasonable quality A5 scrapbook  and I enjoy cutting out pictures from magazines and gluing them down in ways that please the eye. I carefully cut the face out of a model and positioned and glued her impassive and beautiful mask into her own hand. I did it again to another one, noticing that her face looked almost identical to the previous model’s. I could have swapped their faces and it wouldn’t have mattered.

I wondered if I was being a bit misogynist and/or merely anti-model. The only reason I cut their faces out in the first place is because they looked bored and miserable, and I wanted to think of myself in the outfits, not them. I decided I was incredibly artistic and that I could probably find a feminist justification for my actions if the need arose. The reason I mention any of this is because of what I dreamt.

The Dream:

I am standing in a cluttered room contemplating the fact that I have a penis. I’m a bit annoyed about it, because it’s not actually mine and would rather pull it off (literally) and give it back to the owner. I’m feeling a bit concerned about how to actually remove it safely. The owner of the penis is the man I've been in a relationship with. He will now be known as The Rooster. (He’s year of the rooster, so I’m not being a smart-arse here).

I know that Rooster will need his penis back sometime soon, and I have no idea how I ended up with it. I don’t feel sexual about it. I realise that if I pull on it to remove it, then I might just end up making it come. If I make it come, will I feel it or will Rooster feel it? If I make it come, will it then detach so that I can return it? As I think about this, it gets hard. I can sort of feel it, but it’s a very distant feeling. I look down and contemplate it, and it does look very nice.

Because this is a dream I am able to bend down and suck it. So I do. As I enthusiastically work away at it, I’m aware that I can’t really feel it. Does that mean Rooster can feel it? I’m wondering about this when it sort of detaches and bounces around onto the floor. I panic, I don’t want it getting all dusty, but I can’t find it. The penis is lost. I know it’s somewhere in the room so I decide not to get worried about it and to look for it later. I go to the bathroom and find that my own head (the one on my neck) is sitting on this shelf (fortunately not facing ‘me’). I feel the space above my neck and realise my head had come off somewhere along the line.

I find it quite funny, but also a good opportunity to give myself a head massage and healing session. I start massaging the back of my head, and in the dream my hair is thin, and there is a circular bloody wound in the top of the scalp. I rub it and fresh blood comes off. I cup my hands over the wound and pulsing healing energy pours out of my hands. I am at peace. The whole scalp sort of ‘boils’ with energy as I keep my hands there,  like a massive dumpling suddenly swelling and then contracting. I find my own head quite repulsive – it’s much bigger in the dream than in waking life.

That is all I can remember clearly. I told mum and she said

 “Did you have balls?” when I told her about the penis part of the dream.

“No …. I had a cock and no balls ….” 

I was glad that mum asked that.

This makes me want to look again at Jungian dream analysis again (which I haven’t done seriously since 1999). If I am everything in the dream, that all ‘parts played’ are me, then it might mean I am finally integrating ‘male energy’?  I could interpret in a number of ways.

…. clients in Jungian psychotherapy work with dreams by the method that Jung calls "active imagination." This is not an interpretative method but an experiential method. Active imagination is a conversation with the dream images. Clients actively engage the dream images in a dialogue. http://www.jungiantherapy.com/dreamwork.shtml

So if I take myself into a relaxed state I could converse with the dream images. Would I talk to the Penis? Would I find out that it was about power or pleasure … or both? What about my own detached head? Don’t you think it’s funny that there are two kinds of ‘head’ that have been ‘removed’? This is so ripe for puns that it certainly makes one's head spin, or detach, or climax.

Even without my own head, I could still see and ‘think’. Perhaps losing one’s head isn’t such a bad thing? Losing my mind. Lost my head. Such expressions usually indicate the loss of sanity or temper. If you lost your sanity, where would it go? Perhaps losing one’s head could take on a new meaning. Losing the need for control, for wanting life to go according to the ‘script’.

There’s the chance to surrender into a place of peace and to let go of ego once more.

Nature does that to me. I find a calm centre, a sight and thought beyond the usual noise.

In the meantime kids, wish me luck as I allow my own ‘spiritual balls’ to mature and grow. Balls. Consider them and how they don’t just mean fertility in our culture; they are a symbol for courage, power, and sometimes pushing it too far.

“Wow, he’s got balls” people will say of some man strutting around full of confidence, treating people however he likes.

A confident woman … well what is she? A woman who asks for what she wants, who expresses herself? When it comes to body parts, she can be a cunt, but as we all know, that’s not exactly flattering. Should my eggs be my ‘balls’?

“Wow,” people could say, “she’s got big eggs”. Ha, you could do ZZ Top's 'legs' but replace it with 'eggs'. She's got e-eggs, she knows how to use em.

Literal fertility wouldn’t be an issue regarding the compliment. It would just be a new expression. Unfortunately, calling someone an egg in NZ is already an old fashioned way of saying they’re an idiot. Still, I'd rather be an egg than a dick.

I think I could get a lot out of my freaky dream if I applied the Jungian dream analysis process to it. Could be quite fun, inspire more drawing and writing. Have a lovely day, and may your balls or eggs be radiant!

http://dreams.insomnium.co.uk/dream-theory/jung-dream-analysis/

 

oh, this also makes me think of the David Bowie episode of Flight of the Conchords! "Tell me about your freaky dream Brett ...".

A New Beginning. Now.

"Can I have it all now? I want it all. I can't have it all ...."
How is it possible that she looks good in what appears to be a modified strait jacket?

10^th January 2013.

 Instead of endings, let us now be concerned with beginning. When is that? Yep, you guessed it, that would be NOW!

Always smiling when I'm at Lou and Johnny's!

I refuse to drag around any useless stories.  Well. Not for too long anyway. A lot of us suffer. Anxiety seems to be a major issue and I certainly ‘enjoy’ my share. Over the last year I have focused a lot on dealing with anxiety. I think it’s paid off. The core of peace I've glimpsed and held for short periods is no longer so fleeting. All emotions change and shift so quickly, but a deep core of inner peace can be permanent.  I know, because it’s happening to me.

Rest assured, during a time of stress and pain I am still very much a sookie ba lamb, but something does feel different. I sort of breathe like I’m in labour if I have to. Breathing cannot be underestimated. Of course I also like singing, and I’ve made up plenty of songs lately.

Today I cried. I lay down and sort of went a bit foetal and bawled my eyes out. Then I imagined I was above myself watching. As I calmed down, I went back to me, and as I ‘went back’ I truly inhabited my own body. I felt the tears, started to shift my body, heard myself cry, and let myself feel it, feel it, feel it.

Like a wave, this smile of peace washed through me. In less than 10 minutes I felt clear minded again. Clear and clean of self pity or needless sorrow.

Later I got angry about parking. I had to breathe. Breathe!  I acknowledged I was making a big deal out of nothing.  My reaction was totally out of proportion to events, but I didn't tell myself off. I laughed at myself. I swam in the ocean and sent out love. In the supermarket I saw gluten free pancake mix. For reasons I won't go into, tears welled up. I stared at the pancake mix for about ten seconds too long, thinking about what might have been.

Labour-like breathing, nausea  and crying sessions aside, it’s been a wonderful weekend.  I went to a meditation class with Suzanne on Saturday morning, then to Tieneke’s baby shower that afternoon. In the evening I headed to Devonport to see Lou and Johnny. They also had their friend Annette over, and we all talked, laughed and ate. Annette’s funny -  she says things like  - “I don’t suffer fools! I used to, but no more! I also don’t care if someone doesn't like me. I try to do the right thing, and if someone doesn’t like me, then why should I care?”. Good point.
Why should I care if someone doesn't like or love me? It only feeds into pain and anxiety. Wake up. 

An old sliver of glass that had snuck it’s way into my right heel about a week ago was really sore last night. It changed my plans for going to a dance class with Suzanne as well as catching up with another friend for coffee in the same area. I'd stayed the night at Lou and Johnny's and slept like Goldilocks on Valium. 

This morning Lou, Annette and I went to Vauxhall cafe. As Annette was leaving, she produced this beautiful necklace that she doesn’t wear, offering it to Lou or to me. I was so pleased that Lou didn’t want it. It’s like an angel necklace.  Pale blue faceted stones, so light I can’t even feel it against my skin. The silver linings of a cloud pouring out. I’m protected from the darkness that usually threatens to drag me down and into an endless mind of hell. Mind. Mine. Leave the mine. I am free of mind.

After Annette left, Lou and I meandered down to the beach. It was impossibly beautiful.  A tortoiseshell cat finished cleaning herself in front of a multi-million dollar beach bungalow. She then strolled confidently onto a woman’s towel and sat sphinx-like, looking ocean-ward, knowing that this was certainly her right. The woman yapping on her phone didn’t even notice the cat until she saw me and Lou looking and smiling excessively.

We swam. Lou and I that is, not me and the tortoiseshell cat.

“Where’s my anxiety now? I can’t seem to locate it.” I said to Lou.

Like the cat, we also looked towards the blue and green, peace present.  A monarch butterfly floated high in the air, endless blue sky as her back drop.

We headed back for a cup of tea and ended up finishing off a modest glass of sparkling fejoa wine from the night before.  I did a bit of healing (Reiki/general) for their young cat (had been run over and survived thank god) and then did a relaxing visualisation for Lou. Now I’m at mum’s place and she’s going to make a stirfry for dinner. Mmm. I’ll pour myself a pinot gris shortly.

I’ve just read a bit more of Eckie. It always calms me down.

In regard to relinquishing inner resistance (surrender) and finding the stillness/peace within: From The Power Of Now:

I don’t call it finding God, because how can you find that which was never lost, the very life that you are? The word God is limiting not only because of thousands of years of misperception and misuse, but also because it implies an entity other than you. 
God is Being itself, not a being. 
There can be no subject-object relationship here, no duality, no you and God. God-realization is the most natural thing there is. The amazing and incomprehensible fact is not that you can become conscious of God but that you are not conscious of God. The way of the cross (finding ‘god’ through suffering) … is the old way to enlightenment, and until recently it was the only way. But don’t dismiss it or underestimate its efficacy. It still works.

The way of the cross is a complete reversal. It means that the worst thing in your life, your cross, turns into the best thing that ever happened to you, by forcing you into surrender, into “death”, forcing ou to become as nothing, to become as God – because God, too, is no-thing.

And so I will leave you with that something that is no-thing. I send you, whoever you may be, or whoever you think you may be, a wave of love, the beginning of Now. Breathe and Surrender. 

Love and Now

The Love Ruler! February 7th 2013.

In Love. Out of Love. In Love. Same same.

It is possible that I should be inventing an ‘app’ (for phones etc) called ‘The Love Ruler’. Instead of measuring dicks it would measure meaning assigned to words based on the context of such words. The measurement might go from 1 to 20, 1 meaning there is very little love to be had in the situation, no matter what words were spoken. 20 might be the kind of love that was completely in service of others, the Mother Theresa’s of the world.

 If you had a relative or friend who chose not to see or communicate with you, but who sent you a birthday text saying “Happy birthday, luv you!”, you could then enter these factors into the app which would draw the conclusion that this is probably Love Factor 2. There’s enough love for her to have thought of you, and she would probably cry at your funeral if you died tomorrow. But there aint enough love for her to have a coffee with you in ‘real life’ because that involves time and effort. At this point you then can indulge in self pity and anger that this person doesn’t Love to your standard. You can then get all cry baby about it and turn it into a drama.

Another example might be when you’re falling ‘in love’  with someone and they say things that lead you to believe this is the person you will grow old with. You key in the phrase/s along with how long you've been seeing them and the app might say “Love Factor 4: this could be love, or infatuation. Beware excessive claims of love that come too quickly. Let actions show you what this person is really feeling.”

This is the kind of shit I think of without even meaning to.

Fortunately I’m continuing to enjoy my re-reading of Eckhart Tolle, and when you’re practising being in the Now and allowing love to flow through you, 'measuring' Love takes a back seat.

I used to think of love as the vehicle to carry me through a hard time, but I get it now: love doesn’t carry you, it must move through you.

There’s this really popular little story called ‘footsteps’ that Christians cream themselves over. I can say that because I used to be a Christian.  In it the person is having a rough time and she looks back to see one set of footprints on the beach  (can’t be that rough, she’s on a nice beach). She gets all cry baby about it and asks god why he has forsaken her (cos god's footprints should be there too!).  Jesus pops up and says  “my child, when you saw only one set of footprints, it is then that I carried you”. Cue the sigh of relief. If you want to make this funnier, imagine Jesus as played by Cartman from Southpark.

I am beloved spider.

I think  ‘Jesus’ is symbolic in this story, but it isn’t necessarily that helpful if you want to get closer to enlightenment. Perhaps it sounded too sexy for Jesus to say “when you saw one set of footprints I was moving inside you like electricity moves through cable”. Even then, that wouldn't be entirely true, because the person is still attributing all the power and love to something else.

‘He’ may have gone on to explain:

“I am not a separate being to be worshipped, I am a symbol of the Love you sought externally and has now been transformed into a core of peace that springs from the eternal. Love moves through you. It is never outside you. It's only when you sat still on the beach feeling sorry for yourself that you eventually took notice of your own connection to 'source' or 'god'."

And now to quote dear Eckie once more on the topic of relationships (could be any relationship, but I’m thinking of my ‘romantic one’).

“So whenever your relationship is not working, whenever it brings out the “madness” in you and in your partner, be glad. What was unconscious is being brought up to the light. It is an opportunity for salvation. Every moment, hold the knowing of that moment, particularly of your inner state. If there is anger, know that there is anger. If there is jealousy, defensiveness, the urge to argue, the need to be right, an inner child demanding love and attention, or emotional pain of any kind – whatever is is, know the reality of that moment and hold the knowing. The relationship then becomes your sadhana, your spiritual practice”.

Page 158, The Power of Now.

Most of us are way too dependent on the idea of Love rather than the actual practice of Love. Babies, no one on earth has a perfect relationship, and we are all going to die. That’s just how it is. And I’m okay with that. For Now.

On a completely different note, I am going through a Slade phase. Yes. That’s correct. The 1970’s glam-pop sensation. This involves playing ‘Coz I Luv You’ and watching all these different live versions of it on Youtoob. I really like the electric violin, and Noddy Holder’s voice is even more amazing than the guitarist’s hair (and that’s really saying something). I realise this comment might appear random after talking Love and Now, but I suppose music really does help me connect into the moment (or it can help indulge in any range of emotions).

So smile. Noddy Holder is.

The Power of Now and Meow.

"Enlightenment is only a nap away"

3^rd February 2013       

I’ve started to re-read parts of “The Power of Now” (Eckhart Tolle).  I recalled that it was good, and I now find it’s even more amazing than I recalled. I’ve started from about half way through and it really does put everything into perspective.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to respond to aggression, to be fair in an argument and also keep healthy boundaries in place. In some situations, no matter what you do, it seems to fuel the disagreement. If you cry and ask for what you need you’re pathetic, needy and unlovable. If you yell you’re a bully, and if you shut down in order to cope then you’re cold and mean. These sort of reactions flourish in times of fear and anxiety. I really do believe that when people truly love themselves and others then they are willing to work on ‘being’ instead of reacting.

If someone is in pain and lashing out, they are lost in a kind of ‘mind maze’. It seems that the more you try and help them out of it, the more rejection you may encounter.

Tolle talks about the ‘inner body’, to pay attention to the sense of what is within. I’m practising it now as I type these words. I’m feeling not just the physical sensation of my heart in my chest, but of this very light sense of well being. There really are no words for it.

I might be losing something in my life right now. I have reacted as I usually would for much of it, how many of us do. Crying and reaching out like a child for comfort. Perhaps others clam up and close off during fear of loss. Get them together and watch the show!

I like what Tolle has to say about emotion.

“In a fully functional organism, an emotion has a very short life span. It is like a momentary ripple or wave on the surface of your Being. When you are not in your body, however, an emotion can survive inside you for days or weeks, or join with other emotions of a similar frequency that have merged and become the pain-body, a parasite that can live inside you for years, feed on your energy, lead to physical illness, and make your life miserable (see chapter 2).

So place your attention on feeling the emotion, and check whether your mind is holding on to a grievance pattern such as blame, self-pity, or resentment that is feeding the emotion. If that is the case, it means you haven’t forgiven. Non forgiveness is often toward another person or yourself, but it just as may as well be toward any situation or condition – past, present, or future – that your mind refuses to accept. … The moment you truly forgive, you have reclaimed your power from the mind …. the mind made false self, the ego, cannot survive without strife and conflict. The mind cannot forgive. Only you can. You become present, you enter your body, you feel the vibrant peace and stillness that emanate from Being. (page 120,121).

I often worked on Forgiveness last year, and also decided to figure out what a safety net for the heart would be, and how to get one. As I forgave and worked on my ‘inner body’, life changed rapidly and I realise that I am able to process negative emotions much faster than ever before. I also do not lose a deep core of inner peace. It’s there.

If you are working through conflict, then know you are not alone. Take some time to pay attention to that inner body.  Imagine that your anger or pain is being drained away by lots of silver straws, safely siphoned away … away … awayyyyy.

All I know is that this physical life is short. If someone wants to love and be loved, then cool. If they don’t, then that is their choice and their journey. All I can do is respect that, and myself.

May you enjoy the power of meow.