Going with the Overflow

Haindl Tarot

As I was heading into the week, I drew a Tarot card from my current favorite deck by Haindl.

My question: What is the theme for the week?
My card: Three of Cups (Overflowing; Hexagram 28)

from the guide:

28 Preponderance of the Great. Three cups are in an upward pointing triangle symbolic of fire. The cave indicates that the card deals with inner experience. Rocks at the bottom hint at danger; however, the cups overflow with joy.

The I Ching hexagram on the card is 28 Ta Kuo ~ whose declaration is Preponderance of the Great. The bottom three lines are Xun (entrance, the wind); the upper three Dui (joy, the marsh). Together as Ta Kuo, they signify a large excess. The large masculine is excessive and the feminine is needed to properly counterbalance that excess.

In order to follow the energy of life, we discover that it is always seeking the best of what we may become. Nature's creativity thrives in diversity and brings opposites together. Cooperating with creative change generates the means to take us beyond our defenses in order to strike a balance and embrace the change.

Within this structure, the chance of danger remains. Creativity brims with life and vigor. Reaching for those elements presents an overstepping of the edges of safety and comfort. That's always a danger zone. Sometimes we tumble over that edge. Our response in those moments can take us further into that overflow of joy and trust or scrambling back to fear and limitation. The choice is always ours.

What is your experience of joy? How do you work with the sense of fear or loss that can arise with it? How does creativity show up in your life? What stops you from stepping fully into the flow? or into the overflow?

Balancing Paradox

n the midst of everything else going on in our world today ~ all the craziness, every mundane context, individual moments ~ I find myself turning inward and finding a safe, quiet place within.

When I lift my head out of those moments of slipping away, or more precisely, diving deep, familiar words find their way into view. The quote from Frederick Buechner was one. I find myself reading it, breathing it deeply into my lungs, letting it fill me up. I live, we live, in that world where "beautiful and terrible things will happen." Often, both of those extremes can make us afraid. We exalt in and love the beautiful, yet fear that it will go away, that simply having it and acknowledging it will curse it into nonexistence. Yet we most need to remember to let go that feeling of fear. Understand that these things will happen.

The terrible things leave us wary of anything new ~ or of the news itself. What next? Where will the next quake hit? What's happening in the arctic? How long before the disease (whichever one it may be) takes Auntie or Grandpa? So much opportunity for terrible things. Again, along with our best efforts to allay or avoid it, we have the same need to let go of the fear. It takes us out of being present to the moment.

Another quote that flowed easily into my view was this one by Parker J. Palmer:

The spiritual life is lived in a balance of paradoxes, and the humility that enables us to hear the truth of others must stand in creative tension with the faith that empowers us to speak our own.

Everything that is most important to us rests on the balance point of those paradoxes: hearing the truth of others and speaking our own truth. We move forward too quickly and we stop listening to others. We stand still too long and we stop voicing our truths. We are here, in this world, with these beautiful and terrible things happening, to face each other and help each other through the most profound Darkness and the most resplendent Light.

This is a time of facing our rebellious, passionate natures. This is a time of honesty and clarity. This is a time of living in and through our truest and deepest selves. This is not about being meek in the world. It is about being aware and truthful alongside being loving and strong. It is also a time of owning our own personal Darkness as well as revealing our brightest Light. We are not only balancing the paradoxes, we are the very balance point of them.

How do you speak your truth? How do listen to the truth of others? What is your passion? What do you fear? How do you view the beauty in our world? What terrible things are in your life now? What action will you take to refute fear? How are your practices working? What paradoxes are you balancing?

Fear and Attraction

When we look at beginning a journey ~ classes, a new season, travel ~ it's always an adventure. There's an edge to it because its outcome is unknown. Sometimes even its direction doesn't turn out as our original plan described it.

If you consider your life, even the recent past, you'll find a beginning that is, or quickly becomes, uncertain. Maybe a visit to meet a friend where one of your arrivals is delayed. Perhaps a class you planned to take from one instructor, but another shows up instead. Beginning an exciting new job in a new town or part of the state where other team members are unknown. Or going on an outdoor adventure with an unknown guide.

No matter how prepared we believe we are for each of these new journeys, these beginnings, these adventures, there is always the possibility of change and challenge. This is the numinous place. The point where we are fearful, apprehensive, perhaps even terrified. The point where we are also intrigued, attracted, perhaps even exhilarated. Things aren't going precisely as planned, or maybe they are, but not as we thought they would. Yet we are caught up in the beauty and wonder of how it all continues to work together.

If we're truly lucky in our lives, these moments will happen repeatedly ~ at irregular intervals so we don't, or can't, get complacent. They are often the moments that define who we are, the moments that change us.

One of those moments happened for me when my brother drove us up Mt. Evans in Colorado this summer. I had suggested the trip ~ instead of the more traveled Pike's Peak. Although both are part of Colorado's Fourteens (mountains over 14,000 feet), Mt. Evans is a bit higher. The drive was a paved switchback that began its ascent through beautiful forests. By 12,000 feet, we were above the timberline. With no railings or guards, it looked as though we could fly off the road at every turn. Terrifying, yet exhilarating. Then, after walking around on the top, we had to reverse the course downhill.

Was this physically challenging for me? No. Was it part of our plan? Yes. However, if we had thought about and discussed the fearful parts prior to our ascent, we may have decided not to make the trip. We would have missed that remarkable numinous moment of being both afraid and attracted. Personally, I would not trade that moment for the world.

When did you experience a numinous moment? Did it fall into your plans? or was it outside of them? Who were you with? Did you share the fear and attraction? or did one of you feel it and the other/s not? Did you talk about it? Would you repeat that kind of moment again?

You Must Not Fear

 Mary-Lynne Monroe ©2015

"You must not fear, hold back, count or be a miser with your thoughts and feelings. It is also true that creation comes from an overflow, so you have to learn to intake, to imbibe, to nourish yourself and not be afraid of fullness. The fullness is like a tidal wave which then carries you, sweeps you into experience and into writing. Permit yourself to flow and overflow, allow for the rise in temperature, all the expansions and intensifications. something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terrors, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them. If it seems to you that I move in a world of certitudes, ... you move in a world of mysteries. But both must be ruled by faith."

~ Anais Nin, The Diary of Anais Nin, Vol. 4: 1944-47

In 1944, Anais Nin was 41 years old. She was famous for her diaries, her openness about the fullness of life and her expression of that fullness with passion and gusto. Earlier in this passage, she also writes:
What is it that attracts me to the young? When I am with mature people I feel their rigidities, their tight crystallizations. They have become, at least in my eyes, like the statues of the famous. Achieved. Final.

We live in a world both blessed and cursed by rigidity and crystallization. The rigidity creates the rules that keep order and flow in a reasonable fashion. It also creates the rifts as people grab for the tight space that they can call their own ~ forgetting that we get farther together. The crystallization polarizes us, freezes us into one form. We act as though we can't be flexible, can't change, can't learn new views on things.

I've found myself in that rigid, crystallized position a few times in my life. As though I had all the answers and no one could tell me anything. As though there was nothing new to learn. Most of the time, I'm there out of fear. Is it possible there is something I don't know or am not an expert in? For a knowledge-junkie, that is a frightening position to be in. Hence, my rigidity born of fear. Then there's the crystallization born from judgment and/or privilege. I've been guilty of thinking because someone holds a certain position or status (youth, inexperience, handicapping condition, socio-economic status), they don't have the capacity to know something I don't.

Fortunately, those times have been few and far between, but even being there once is something for which I am not proud. I'm humbled by the sharing, acceptance and knowledge of  others. Most of the time, I am no longer fearful to say there's something I don't know. I've learned to share the emotions as well, to open to the mystery ~ and the greater Mystery, and allow my intuition to lead. Then my "great art" ~ my writing ~ flows from the depths of me. Then I am willing to be with and among everyone, learning and sharing. All without certitude.

Where do you find yourself to be rigid? What crystallizes your attitude? your interactions with others? What is your "great art"? How do you practice it? What creates flow for you?

Gaining Perspective in High Spaces

Not long ago, I hiked Lower Table Rock in southern Oregon. To my mind, the path was steep. Walking up was less difficult because the ground rose in front of me, making it easier to see. At the top, we walked the path to the edge of the mesa. I snapped this picture standing near the edge and looking over the valley as well as Upper Table Rock in the distance. I watched eagles gliding over the field below and laughed at the thought that we were standing above the soaring eagles.

Hiking back down was more difficult for me. I kept my head down and focused on the bright turquoise shoes of my daughter hiking down before me (purposefully close to me). I was grateful for the assistance. It calmed me so much that I hiked down the steeper part of the path beside her with my head up. A very different view!

The following week, I found myself ascending Mt. Evans, one of Colorado's Fourteens ~ over 14,000 feet ~ on the world's highest paved road. At one point, this was our view: no horizon to speak of, nothing ahead but fluffy white clouds on which to focus. From what we'd already driven, I knew we were coming to another hairpin turn. My heart was racing and I pulled my right side closer to the center of the vehicle ~ as if that would help!

At the top, we met a fellow traveler on a bicycle and a couple riding a motorcycle. Mountain goats with their lost, bleating kids wandered and nibbled at the sparse grass or relaxed at the side of the road. Yellow-bellied marmots dotted the landscape and chirruped as they chased across the rocks. Our view was vast, rocky and distant. We could truly see for miles and miles. Pike's Peak appeared through the clouds as well as the other Fourteens. The view was breath-taking ~ as was being over 14.000 feet in the air! Hence the sign:

As I reflected on these trips, I realized how much perspective I gained on each of them. Although Lower Table Rock seemed an easy jaunt for most of the hikers, it was my perspective making it more difficult. Hiking next to my confident daughter afforded me the opportunity to notice that I felt safer when I limited my view. However, I did not feel better. Once I recognized that I was limiting the view, forcing a narrower perspective, I could lift my head and see the fullness of the wooded landscape I was traversing.

Mt. Evans, on the other hand, was a different sort of trek. We were in a car, driving up and up and up. The same what-if fear gripped me at times. I recognized more quickly that I could breathe deeply and enjoy the beauty of the heights or I could focus on the narrow space where the fear resided. Again, it was a matter of perspective. When I let it flow out in a wider circle, my fear dissipated. I felt the incredible awe of the adventure. I wondered about the First Peoples who traversed this mountain on foot and marveled at the people who created the paved road.

As Kurt Vonnegut wrote in If This Isn't Nice, What Is?: "We have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down." Being close to those cliffs physically, recognizing the ones I carry within, I have a new perspective on how and why I develop those wings. I am grateful for the journeys in such quick succession ~ as well as for those who accompanied me up those heights, and those who accompany me on the internal cliff jumping.

At what cliffs have you stood? How do you face them? How do you feel when you stand there? Has the fear ever overwhelmed you? What do you know of your perspective at those moments? How has your perspective changed over time?

Finding Freedom

Have you ever been so intimidated by your own fears, apprehensions and anxieties that you lost track of your goals, perhaps even your spirit or soul?

Many times in my life, I've opted for what might appear as the easy way out. I've let fear overtake my deeper desires and sense of self. It hasn't always been as clear or easy a choice as it may seem. I've struggled. Tossed and turned, whether asleep or awake, with the questions. Prayed over it. Rarely released it.

Then there have been those times when the decision to move forward, to move in the direction of the fear rather than away from it, was clearly the best choice. Wow! Tough options to feel my way through.

One of those decisions happened shortly after a cross-country move. I was married at the time of the move. My husband had many challenges in his life. He was depressed and an alcoholic-addict. These things weren't evident to my young adult self when we met, dated and married. They blossomed after we went through an emotionally traumatic year when his father was diagnosed with cancer, my father died suddenly of a heart attack, then his father died after a brief and brutal period with the cancer. I became stronger from the experiences. He, on the other hand, lost himself. So when we moved cross-country, away from our support systems, we intended to start afresh. That didn't work. The pain within him traveled cross-country with us. Before we had been there a year, I moved out and filed for divorce. It was not an easy decision. I knew he was in pain. I knew my strength could support him. I loved him dearly. I was afraid of the judgment others would pass on me for divorcing him. There was no single determining factor in my decision. I only knew, deep in my soul, that I could not carry him to wholeness. He had to do it on his own. Or not. Depending on me would not help him heal. My decision freed us both to move on to a new life.

Another decision stemmed from a co-worker suggesting that I go overseas to teach. He told me about his time teaching in Germany and said it was a great experience. At the time, I was single and he thought that would be a good move for me. Within a month of his suggestion, I was heading to an international schools hiring conference in New Orleans. By the end of the weekend, I had a contract to teach computer tech in Cairo, Egypt. I'd never taught computer tech before, but I convinced the interviewers that I could. I was going to live in Cairo! Doing that on my own, I was later to find, was the most wild and wonderful adventure I could ever have chosen. But what it meant in the short-term as I prepped to go was facing a lot of apprehensions and fears. What would I need to take? Where would I live? Would I be able to teach the full range of students? What support would the staff require? Where would I store the things I was leaving behind? How would I continue to pay my bills? The list went on and on. One by one, I faced them down and never looked back.

What decision points have you faced in your life? What part has fear or anxiety played in your decision? Have you discovered a place of freedom from your choice? Do you have any regrets? How do you deal with those?

Does Fear Define Us?

I woke this morning in the midst of a dream. One of those dreams that feels real ~ that shakes you and puzzles you all at the same time.

Dream:
I was working for a young man who called me into his office to ask me if I could or would 'take care of' several employees. Remaining quiet, I listened as he proceeded to give me pointers on how to do it. Then he instructed me to escort one of them to an interview. When I left his office, two men were waiting for me. We took a golf cart to an open area with an elevator. The men asked me to accompany them down to the interview. I declined, claiming claustrophobia. Trying to shake a bad feeling about the trip, I went through a door in the huge glass walls in front of me. I found myself outside, on a hillside above a creek or river. I heard voices behind me and decided to slide down the muddy hill, in skirt and heels. As I started down the incline, I heard a loud 'POP' from the direction of the elevator ~ then another. I knew a bomb had been detonated. After reaching the water's edge, I started angling up a grassy slope almost immediately next to where I'd slid down. Assuming I'd been knocked over the edge by the bomb, several people helped me up when I arrived at the crest.

Upon waking, I checked my phone only to discover, through Facebook's Safety Check stating a friend who lives in Brussels was safe, that there had been a bombing in Brussels. More terrorist actions. More reason to fear. I only felt grief-stricken. Was this related to my dream? Was my dream related to this?

Then came the declaration of responsibility from the Islamic State ~~ and all the news items using the term terrorist attack over and over again ~~ and a candidate running for the US presidency proposing using waterboarding on any suspects.

I slowly began to understand my grief. What do we know about what happened? More now, certainly, than we did then. Yet our first reaction is fear.... "Oh, no! Not again!" And the media drives this by focusing on the terror aspect. We seem to want to frighten ourselves ~~ to take the adrenaline hit ~~ to lash out at the 'other,' no matter who that may be. What about the people who helped others through the trauma? What about the families of those who were injured or died? Why don't we first pray for them? Think of the possible bright spots? Why do we prefer the darkness and fear? Why do we focus on the injured and dead only in terms of victims? The language we use, the choice of reaction, the hope or hate we give breath to truly defines us. Which defined you?

Silence

Silence is a power in and of itself. I have sat in silence in private mediation, in gathered grief, in anticipation of medical procedures or diagnoses, in awe of natural phenomena, and many other places.

By far and away, the most powerful silence I experienced was in October 1988 on the Ellipse in Washington, DC. I was working as a volunteer on the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt. Fifty-two acres of quilt panels commemorating people who had died from AIDS. Fifty-two acres of silence. Everyone who walked through the area, from street people to grief-stricken friends and family to members of Congress, either did not speak or spoke in brief, hushed tones. As I traversed the Quilt, I discovered that the closer I was to the perimeter, the louder the voices were. However, the normal-toned voices which sounded loud to me were all outside the perimeter. As soon as anyone's feet entered the hallowed ground formed by the Quilt, voices quieted and stilled. No signage requested or required it. Everyone simply felt the need for silence.

The only exception to the silence was at the podium where individuals read the names of the people for whom the panels were made. I had my turn in that spot, reading. And wept while reading, as so many others did before and after me.

Many aspects of our lives are inundated with sound to the point that we nearly fear silence. We understand its power without instruction. What is it that we fear? Power? Intimacy? Diminishment? Strength?

How do you feel about silence? What was your most poignant experience with it? Do you practice within silence?

July 2015 Aquarius Blue Moon

July 31st is the second Full Moon of the month which makes it a Blue Moon. This Moon is eight degrees Aquarius and with the Sun in Leo, there is opportunity for choice: open to the group or detach and go solo. Or find the balance between independence and interdependence.

This Full Moon is also alive with vision and new horizons. Like a TV dish, it draws insights from the ether. Because of its capacity to focus on the future, it has trouble in the present. Create the ideal and keep the feet firmly planted on Mother Earth. Be sure the foundation is solid and be willing to illuminate whatever fears, tensions or apprehensions show up. Deal with them. Feel them. Face them. Upgrade those feelings. Breathe through any changes or breakthroughs. And be ready for any 'ahas' that may show up, for any radical upgrades in thinking, organizing, perceptions of reality.

What are you feeling as this Full Moon lights up the sky? How can you open yourself to changes? What is the Full Moon lighting up within you? How solid is your foundation? What can you do to shore it up?

Do Not Feed

Not so long ago, I experienced what was to me a baffling illness. I can describe it more readily by what it wasn't than by what it was. There was no fever, sweats, sniffles or cough. There was no purging from either upper or lower orifice. It was a very, very brief wash of.... something. And that was the baffling part.

So in today's TMI culture, I could have rushed to the computer and typed in the 'symptoms.' My experience doing that is very unclear and over-the-top number of responses. What happens when I begin to read those responses? Fear sets in.

Don't get me wrong. I believe in being informed and in utilizing the 'information highway' to the best of my ability. But even WebMD requires accurate and thorough information from me. Then it spits out information according to a logarithm. No interaction, no questions, no awareness of my previous health history. The information I gain needs to be offset with the human interface. At least it does for me, so I don't feed my fears.

There's a lot of fear on the loose out there. Every request for a campaign donation is laced with fear of 'them' or the other side's policies. Almost every news story on the evening news overwhelms us with how bad things are. For the past several years, I've chosen not to watch TV news. I don't care for the atmosphere of fear it breeds. I continue to work on taking responsibility for my fears and the ripple of fear they cause in the world. It makes my personal world a better, safer, saner, happier place to live.

What feeds your fears? What do you fear? How do you feed the fears of those around you? How can you influence others to release the fears and let love and acceptance flow in? Do you want to live in a fearful world or a loving one?

Time to be Grateful

At work the other day, I asked one of my co-workers about his toddler. He responded that he was worried about the child. As the conversation progressed, he described worries of the general kind: the current respiratory illness going around, the possibility of falls toddling around, ways to keep the child safe.

He said, "I must sound like a real goof with all my worries."
I chuckled and said, "Not at all. You sound like a normal parent. And this is just the beginning."
He responded, "I know! If I knew what I was signing up for, I don't know that I would have been so anxious to have a kid!"
We both laughed.

Another co-worker overheard part of the conversation and said, "We are living in the greatest times ever! We don't have to worry about being raped and pillaged on a regular basis."
I responded, "Maybe not you. Women still have to worry about rape."
Both co-workers agreed.

Later, as I thought about the conversation, I realized the second co-worker was correct with the first part of his statement at least: we do live in generally safe times. A book I recently read was describing the influenza epidemic of a century ago. Although I'd read about it in the past, it put the deaths of millions of people into a different perspective. Men who were apparently healthy left the house in the morning for work and dropped dead, or nearly so, on the street before they could return home that night. People were instructed to wear surgical masks when they went out. Many forgot. Public events were canceled. Then, when they thought the worst was over, the next wave came through. Imagine being a parent during those two or so years!

I'm grateful for the times in which we live. The truly negative side is the news putting too much focus on the negative and the deadly without adding perspective to it. Yet overall, our times are so much better and safer than the past that it's easy to forget to be thankful. I'd prefer not to forget.

How do you feel about our times? How do you deal with the discrepancies between those in different socio-economic standings? What is your biggest worry today?

Spider Teaching

After shopping, I returned home to find that a spider had made a web across my front door. I wouldn't have noticed it but for the movement of the spider itself in the center of the web. Wow! It was preparing for a big catch!

It's funny when Spider shows up in my life. I'm usually alone and often feeling stretched or stressed. It's as though Spider comes to tell me that I'm stronger than I think, that I'm creative and, strangely, that I am enough to take on anything!

Spider speaks to me clearly about creativity ~ in a way different from any other. My creativity comes from deep within me. It flows out of me when I need it. Sometimes it seems invisible to others. Sometimes I want it that way.

Spider speaks to me about fears. I have had a changeable fear of spiders. Sometimes I really want them somewhere other than around me; sometimes I give Spider a wide berth; sometimes I draw close enough to watch the web-builder at work. Even when my fear isn't at its strongest, it still exists as an apprehension, an avoidance. Spider provides the opportunity for me to face my fear, to re-evaluate its necessity or reasonableness. And from there, the chance to face other fears as well.

Every time I come face-to-face with Spider, I ask what Spider means to me now? Is it different in this moment? What do I need to know/learn? Why has Spider arrived now?

What enters your life repeatedly with a message? Is the message the same each time? or is it different? How do you feel about Spider? What message does Spider have for you?

Become a Lion

A high school teacher gave her students an activity at the end of the year. She instructed them to write their opinions of each other on pieces of paper and share them anonymously. It was a strong focus on the opinions of others. At the end of class, one young woman tearfully shared with the teacher that some of the students wrote horrible things about her. The teacher's response: "Maybe you should think about it; maybe there is something to what they're saying."

It's difficult for youth to become lions, to roar in the face of others' opinions, especially if those opinions are reinforced by a trusted adult. It's not much easier for those of us who are older either. Especially since we often trust those who offer the opinions. Part of our social nature is wanting to be good citizens, to think well of others and to have others to think well of us. Society operates smoothly because of that desire. Yet we must temper the strength of that desire so it doesn't box us in, provide a sense of not belonging, stop us from embracing our individuality and unique expression.

I love the sense of freedom when I let go of that particular concern. The opportunity to stand aside from the crowd, to be a totally singular expression of humanity, is that roar within my heart. My goal for the remainder of the year is to remain as creatively myself as I can.

How do you express your creativity? Do the opinions of others affect you? (be honest!) How? What can you do to diminish the effect?

Resistance to Fear

Sometimes it takes more than an alarm to get me moving in the morning. Sometimes I'm afraid of what I might find confronting me in my world. Monsters and spiders are not the only things that create fear.

In the past several months, I've discovered there are some subtle energetics that cause me to step into my personal fear space. They aren't specific or overt like a bully waiting for me at the door or a raging hailstorm. What comprises these fears is difficult to comprehend, and even more difficult to explain. It's something like a hiccup in my own sense of well-being, a slight slip in my sense of myself. It's amazing how small a shift can impact my level of fear.

I love Mark Twain's description of Courage ~ because I have become more aware of the subtleties of fear and its expression in my life. When I resist fear ~ fear of being alone, fear of being wrong, fear of being out of control, fear of.... well, whatever might show up or not show up in my day ~ that's when I am most courageous. Fear wants to freeze me in place, like a children's game whose rules are that you can move only when the person who is "It" isn't looking. The point is not that you don't want to move toward "Home," but that you don't want to be seen actually moving. Fear does that to us, to me. It wants me to stop moving forward, to freeze in its view. Every step I take toward basking in the light of the sun and the beauty of the day instead of freezing in fear brings me closer to mastery of that bugaboo. It is my courage that moves me forward, and for that, I am grateful.

How do you choose to move forward? How do you master fear? What do you feel when you move in spite of what fear tells you?

Love and Fear

Recently, a friend asked: "Do you think fear is the heart of love?" My immediate response was simply: "No. Fear and love are opposites." My friend then affirmed the belief that fear indeed was the heart of love. According to my friend's belief, fear of being alone drives one to seek the company of another and of falling in love.

After those comments, another person entered the conversation and began asking questions. My friend turned away and I couldn't hear the comments, responses and the continuation of the conversation.

I continue to ponder that question. My current response would be:
Love is about serving and honoring the Other. Fear is about getting something for Me.
Love isn't blind ~ it sees everything, and chooses to love anyway.
Love is a coal I use to warm my life. Sometimes it burns brightly. Sometimes it flares into bright flames. Sometimes I have to feed it more fuel and fan it to keep it burning.

What do you think is the relationship between love and fear? What motivates you to love another person? What do you value most in your loving relationships?