Schoolgirl?!

My words are being used for classes drowning me in homework, essay preps and speeches down the road. Day two and I’ve spent an hour and a half running through the exercises for my Critical Thinking class.

Whose Logic?!
Whose Logic?!

I know it’s basic. But it takes time I had been using elsewhere. I find my creative flow is used up when I sit down to blog. Og og og… But I’m loving Fromm in my mini-breaks from homework (I love homework. Been doing it for over 2 decades but only within the constraints of my personal dictates.). He puts Freud in proper perspective and love in a place that is accessible, solid and without illusion. Not for the faint-hearted and a sure cure for narcissistic distortions.

So, since I’ve got to next focus on what I see unfolding for me in my Public Speaking class, Western World Lit – Advanced (omg, killing me after years of falling in love with the mind of the East) and Statistics, I’m tossing Fromm quotes on the table for “fun.” These are speaking to me lately since I tend to rant about love and quote greats on love and nowhere do I try to identify what it is (as if! cough…). I see, know and experience love on spiritual levels that play out on the solid physical planes of existence and my ability to put it into words that adequately conveys is lacking. I tend to go off on poetic rambles useful only to myself. Fromm, on the other hand, has mastered the best definition I have yet to find or create. To start with, he slices and dices at what love is NOT:

“Automatons cannot love; they can exchange their ‘personality packages’ and hope for a fair bargain.”

“Love is not the result of adequate sexual satisfaction, but sexual happiness–even the knowlede of the so-called sexual technique–is the result of love…The study of the most frequent sexual problems…shows that the cause does not lie in a lack of knowledge of the right technique, but in the inhibitions which make it impossible to love.”

“Love as mutual sexual satisfaction, and love as ‘teamwork’ and as a haven from aloneness, are the two ‘normal’ forms of the disintegration of love in modern Western society, the socially patterned pathology of love.”

“Another form of pseudo-love is what may be called ‘sentimental love.’ Its essence lies in the fact that love is experienced only in phantasy and not in the here-and-now relationship to another person who is real…As long as love is a daydream, they [lovers/partners] can participate; as soon as it comes down to the reality of the relationship between two real people–they are frozen.”

And here’s my favorite identification of what love IS:

“Love is possible only if two persons communicate with each other from the center of their existence, hence if each one of them experiences himself from the center of his existence. Only in this ‘central experience’ is human reality, only here is aliveness, only here is the basis for love.

Dress Me In Yellow, Oh
Dress Me In Yellow, Oh

Love, experienced thus, is a constant challenge; it is not a resting place[!!!], but a moving, growing, working together; even whether there is harmony or conflict, joy or sadness, is secondary to the fundamental fact that two people experience themselves from the essence of their existence, that they are one with each other by being one with themselves [emphasis mine], rather than by fleeing from themselves. There is only one proof for the presence of love: the depth of the relationship, and the aliveness and strength in each person concerned; this is the fruit by which love is recognized.”

These all come from Fromm’s awesome book, The Art of Loving. And I’ve likely already put it on this blog. Maybe not. But it’s worth embracing, revolutionizing a life intent on knowing and being known in love, as love, for love, by love…you get it.

jrk

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Pick Up Sticks

When whiling away the summer days and plotting autumn’s revolution, there are moments to grab with my kids, moments that grab me. Pick Up Sticks, for all their simplicity, beat, hands-down (pun intended),  the Wii, Rock Band, Halo nonsense revolution. The senses are used in actual space and time in your face and at your feet. And you laugh. Unless you’ve lost your sense of pleasure in simple things ( I recommend you go find it, if lost. ), you laugh. You relax. You remember the floor and the view of the room from dusty realms.

Hand-Mind Realtime Recovery
Hand-Mind Realtime Recovery

So what are they? Pick Up Sticks are great little slices of color that can be scattered on the floor in a sometimes complicated spill of sound and bright sight. They are brilliantly useful for recovery from disconnection, particularly disconnection from the power of real action, of real person moving real hands through actual space in a work to create pleasure and sustenance. I call it Hand-Mind Realtime Recovery, a complicated jruthphrase meaning: restoration of the awareness of the power to create actual events, entities and objects in the here and now such that the person actually begins to leave a mark or significant influence of thriving love on his/her world in the form of pleasure, creativity and construction in actual space and time. Here. Now, as opposed to on a glowing screen capturing “realtime.”

I cough as I type on a glowing screen. Balance is a word that comes to mind. I adore the internet revolution, the games that glow on screens are fun (i love tetris and other games with guns and “nonsense”) but it’s easy to go for the easiest “results” in pleasure-seeking. It gets old, empty and meaningless. For some of us, anyway.

Pick Up Color
Pick Up Color

The dazed, vacant look dawns gray on their faces when my kids have contracted insta-grat overload. Zombies invade. Nothing satisfies. I try not to let it get to that point ever. But when it happens or even threatens to, boot-camp commences. Turn off all the glowing boxes. Listen for birds. Note the wind. Hello earth. Grate carrots for bread, sweep floors, pull weeds, gather stones from rivers, pick flowers, wash dishes, climb trees, assemble, draw, yo-yos, skateboards, bikes, long walks, river treks, guitar jamming, piano storming, dance, hug, cuddle…be more fully in your whole body in life. If I could control every detail of their lives, there’d be no xbox. But I can be extreme.

It comes down to doses. What’s your dosage of insta-grat? What’s your dosage of chopping wood? What does your organism require most? How much mindless “pleasure” turns you into a zombie? What level of hard labor deprives you of sensual fun?

Pick Up Sticks are timeless, reliable sources for getting back to basic fun. And they don’t require weekly rental cost. Besides, you can get the cat to chase a Pick Up Stick and watch her fat black body roll all over the carpet, biting at an elusive thin stick and putting all her feet in the air. Comedy, versatility and balance in a world rich with basic fun.

This little dissertation began with my son. Ev grabbed the sticks today when I told him I wanted to play a game. It amazed and pleased me. His mind has not been lost to the world of the glowing box. And he’s the one who renewed my interest in Chess. Chess – where you sit in silence or listening to quiet music (or loud noisy music, if you prefer) and plot the strategy to take the king (or is it the queen or…? I actually have to be reminded every time we play. But I love the game.). You think. You wait. You watch. You are not bombarded with non-stop stimulation. You learn something about the other person and you may even chat amiably between moves, similar to Pick Up Sticks where actual interaction takes place with ANOTHER LIVE HUMAN BEING.

But now I’m on a soapbox. Enough. Go get some Pick Up Sticks and remember the inner child while you enjoy the child whose presence life has graciously bestowed on you. Remember that it’s not about doing the right thing so as to guarantee any one thing to prove any wonderful thing but…it’s an opportunity – if only for a few minutes – to relate. And love happens when you relate. And that’s really all that matters.

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Peace? Personal Growth? Pish Posh?!

What is personal growth anyway? Is it a process of losing immaturity and facing the facts of life? Is it a coming into peace? Is it the development of personal ideals into a vision of life? How can any of it begin to be possible without peace? Ever try to build a tent in a storm? Growth is like that tent-pitching adventure. We set up camp here and then there as we explore a terrain on a journey of wholeness, richness of living. How do we get there in turmoil?

The whole idea of feeling at peace with your self, with life, with others often – by its sheer contradiction to reality – lands on the mind with a comical mockery of all the chaos, internal agony and daily inundation of responsibility. Peace? Right! And the fairies leave me gold coins under the magnolia every evening! It can sound that ludicrous. Then we face the semantics of “finding” peace, even in a quiet home, sitting in “optimum” meditative pose (as if!). With all else clamoring within and around the next bend, it can feel like a gargantuan striving to be “at peace.” So many things in life scream out: “I am more real and more important!” The contrast of those screaming demands and issues pose the notion of peace as comical and the one contemplating it worthy of contempt or ridicule.  The roof may cave in with the financial disaster. I might produce the same orphaning of my children though I’m technically more here than my parents were. There’s too much to do to even begin to imagine what it would be like to be a smooth-running overflowing river of peace in the middle of it all. Too much nips at the heels daily.

So, sit and rest into a sense of wholeness, peace? RIGHT! Besides, the attempt can, by its own efforts, destroy any suggestion of peace. So, it seems impossible. But it’s not.

There are layers to tend to first.

1)  Focus on the body’s language

2)  Acknowledge and work through (lifetime work) the injuries of the past that continue to visit today.

3)  Establish a vision that will make possible the management of now’s needs and desires in conjunction with the repair work needful to relieve pain from past injuries. E.g. A person needs to feel capable of being present on certain levels with those s/he cherishes without the paralysis and inhibition created in fear of repeating history. There are ways to work through both needs. The importance of now and the critical drain of concern about the effects of the past on a life – these are both vital concerns. One does not negate the other. Your power is now. Sure. But that does not diminish how the past still needs a measure of your regard and attention. Development is essential in making the most of the power of your now. But…development is facilitated by recognition of what is NOT developed because of past influences. We can run. We can hide. But evasion of past influences profits us little in terms of depth change, the type of transformation that brings a person into a place of full presence, making the life a feast for self and for loved ones. So, the key is to navigate and schedule time to reflect on how you’re working through healing, identifying how you react into your now as a result of wounds, and then choosing ways you can instead respond from a place of truth and love. And if you can get the right help, your work will progress with a more measurable and supportive approach.

4)  Recognize the path of peace is a process of increasing awareness, allowance, integration and release built on a foundation of self-acceptance and sobriety. All while making sure to grow and hold loosely to your dynamic vision of life as you, you as life.

5)  Grow a sense of unity with all in an ever-increasing expansion of wholeness within, shedding perspectives of isolation and judgement.

Stay tuned… for a glimpse into the first layer mentioned above. Find a place today, a soothing place, sit with yourself and call every part of you that has been scattered back home. Visualization, as much as it cannot be proven, measured or otherwise grasped with anything tangible, is still a highly powerful tool of self-restoration, especially when feelings are allowed to have their full play without fear.

Courtesy of Dave Grant
Courtesy Of Dave Grant

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When Seeing Blinds Sight, Going Stops Arrival . . .

“If I must cross every skyline to find out what is beyond, I shall never appreciate the true depth of sky seen between trees upon the ridge of a hill. If I must map the canyons and count the trees, I shall never enter the sound of a hidden waterfall. If I must explore and investigate every trail, that path which vanishes into the forest far up on the mountainside will be found at last to lead merely back to the suburbs. To the mind which pursues every road to its end, every road leads nowhere. To abstain is not to postpone the cold disillusionment of the true facts but to see that one arrives by staying rather than by going, that to be forever looking beyond is to remain blind to what is here.

To know nature, the Tao, and the ‘substance’ of things, we must know it as, in the archaic sense, a man ‘knows’ a woman–in the warm vagueness of immediate contact. As the Cloud of Unknowing says of God, ‘By love he may be gotten and holden, but by thought never.’ This implies, too, that it is also mistaken to think of it as actually vague, like mist or diffused light or tapioca pudding. The image of vagueness implies that to know nature, outside ourselves as within, we must abandon every idea, every thought and opinion, of what it is–and look. If we must have some idea of it, it must be the most vague imaginable, which is why, even for Westerners, such formless conceptions as the Tao are to be preferred to the idea of God, with its all too definite associations.”

Alan Watts – Nature, Man and Woman

Lose your mind, stop your go, find a place central within and unfold. It’s not bliss-ninny ohmmful denial of life’s demands or all those great plans. It’s a presence-centered way of being, always-the-lover-on-the-verge but mentally sharp in response to life’s provocation, always deeply looking. Not so much the frenzied, grab-it-all-fast and figure and finagle and fret. But respond from the soil of your life’s lessons. Define what matters here and now and cultivate the awareness of how alive and beautiful is that one glimpse of sky you reach. And watch, look, breathe it all in as you realize that the craving quest finds it all within.

DSCN2163

Then from there, from that fullness the going, grabbing, exploring times hum with one who is always right here now, drinking deeply in love’s peace.

Is this where we end the addictive processes, in the feast of here, now, opening heart in love not because we’ll get a prize but because being is the prize?

Maybe…

jrk

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Reel Mowers and Real Change

Violet Lawn
Violet Lawn

My weekend to myself consisted of mowing the front and back lawn, pulling weeds, planning the taming of all things scrub and brush and lush North Carolina wild. There are still plants to get in the ground and whole sections of yard to manage, hedges to clip back. And all of the mowing with a Reel Mower – the kind that makes a whirring sound, the kind that my cat, Naji, does not mind lying in the yard watching me work with, the kind where he’ll lie there and just wait until it whirs right by his ears and then scoot away from, scattering wildly and rapidly as if I’ve had the unmitigated gall (totally ignoring the fact that I was mowing and then he decides to lie down 2 “rows” away from my current focus, looking as if he might actually tackle the whirring thingamajig), the kind of mower that does not ask for gas or oil or someone a little more knowledgeable about “lawn mowers” to fix. I love it. It’s exhausting and requires that I master 4 levels of “lawn” since my home rests on a hill with the front yard flat and then the side yard sloping steadily and steeply down to semi-flatness and then sheer drop-hill with a bit of a flat shelf (with a tree) and then, after the sheerest drop, there’s more flat. That’s 4 levels. It’s a total body workout.

 

While the word “lawn” typically conjures images of grass, this lawn is mostly clover, a bit of grass, chickweed, tons of violets and more clover. This is the worst year of weeds yet. So, I pull them up…except for the violets. Can’t do that, they’re far too pretty. So…I just mow them down, cringing, wishing I could’ve picked them all first. But that’s impossible. There are dozens and dozens. It’s one of those ridiculous but purple scenarios. I marvel at them as they dot my lawn and then I have to mow them down. I beg them to grow back as I watch them whiz through the blades, slinging purple and white bits and pieces all around.

 

This is my second season of Reel mowing. I admit to being daunted initially but Reel mowers are lighter, quieter and effective enough to put a yard in trimmed status. It goes well with my changing world where the yardwork and all else I had to care for before separation is mine without help. Of course, my kids can do some of the work, even some of the mowing. But this is a great time of finding my capacity to shape my world without the influence of a marriage that hummed with the lie of my inadequacy. It was not a lie started by the marriage but it certainly thrived there. It’s amazing to find healing in row after row of grass mowed, of barren landscape blooming.

 

And oftentimes it really is that simple. As the soul and body do their dance of unity across the canvas of life, healing occurs. Until then we sometimes face roadblocks. Sometimes we cannot fully join with others ‘til we’ve proven to self those things, those tasks and landmark transformations essential to the individual or simply whatever we personally require ourselves to prove by doing or simply by trying to do. It’s not about adopting a generalized rule of thumb but about knowing what is true for one. And cultivating those personal truths can be the difference between living and existing. 

 

What do you require of yourself? Everyone has requirements but they so often exist under a pile of expectations not original to the individual. As I find those personal requirements, I find a solid place to thrive. And my relationships transform. The price won’t usually be as high as the one I’ve had to pay with some more significant life changes. But it’s so worth the effort.

 

jruthkelly

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Love Is A Dark Night . . .

“Love is a dark night. Dark nights are largely about love. Once you give up the bright light of consciousness and understanding, you may discover that you can be in this world in a darker way, living by love and desire rather than by rationality and control. You don’t give up your intellect, but you allow love its natural dominance.”

Thomas Moore – Dark Nights of The Soul

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Active Penetration Of Me, Of You, Of Love . . .

“Love is active penetration of the other person, in which my desire to know is stilled by union. In the act of fusion I know you, I know myself, I know everybody—and I “know” nothing. I know in the only way knowledge of that which is alive is possible for man—by experience of union—not by any knowledge our thought can give. Sadism is motivated by the wish to know the secret, yet I remain as ignorant as I was before. I have torn the other being apart limb from limb, yet all I have done is to destroy him. Love is the only way of knowledge, which in the act of union answers my quest. In the act of loving, of giving myself, in the act of penetrating the other person, I find myself, I discover myself, I discover us both, I discover man…

The only way of full knowledge lies in the act of love: this act transcends thought, it transcends words. It is the daring plunge into the experience of union. However, knowledge in thought, that is psychological knowledge, is a necessary condition for full knowledge in the act of love. I have to know the other person and myself objectively, in order to be able to see his reality, or rather, to overcome the illusions, the irrationally distorted picture I have of him. Only if I know a human being objectively, can I know him in his ultimate essence, in the act of love…

The experience of union, with man, or religiously speaking, with God, is by no means irrational. On the contrary, it is as Albert Schweitzer has pointed out, the consequence of rationalism, its most daring and radical consequence. It is based on our knowledge of the fundamental, and not accidental, limitations of our knowledge. It is the knowledge that we shall never “grasp” the secret of man and of the universe, but that we can know, nevertheless, in the act of love.”

Erich Fromm – Excerpts from The Art of Loving

 This is one of those challenging expositions on love that asks us how often we engage in mental “union” with another, how much we approach with a pre-set mode of “reception” or an attitude of already knowing what we will experience with another because he or she is a. b. and c. (fill in the blanks). How much are we actually empty and awaiting the work of receiving and penetrating in relationship with another, ready for anything wonderful to happen, not accepting the cubicles of “this person is thus and so and will always be?” We can be open to newness and change in another’s life while wholly aware of the inevitable and wonderful nature of that same person.

 This type of knowing, of love itself, is beyond anything we can articulate and it opens up the skies and plows the fields of the earth, making room for fields of creative discovery, of perpetual growth. It is deeper than the mind can reach, richer than the body can feel and more alive than the spirit can capture.

And it is active in our every pulse, in our every work as we purposefully seek to manifest our own unique response to love, our unique expression as love and our authentic investments and works for love with an open, ready and penetrating heart/mind.

jrk 2008, 2009

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The Answer Growing. . .

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”

 

Letters To A Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke

 

We can love the questions whispering from the recesses of our hearts, burning in the mind. We can love them because they push us out of the deadening status quo lands of settling, settling with an “oh well, I guess this is it…” attitude about life, love and. And. Get out and know. Grow and question, even the best answers need to be questioned. And if you’re clueless, then learn to be even just a bit at ease with the unrest of it. Don’t think you’re dumb for not having the answer.

 

What’s “the answer” anyway? Is there such? Even when the answer and only point is love itself, that one answer still demands you make it your own unique story of love birthed from experience, from risk. The answer is your answer, the one found down the road as you transform. People want answers yesterday or now at the latest. The energy of desperation begging: “Where is this relationship going?!” Well, it’s going unless you seek a box of vows. Then it’s gone and dead. When we seek too soon to make a relationship take shape and form deep commitment because we’re afraid of loss or lack, we base our vows on fear’s inspiration, on death. And we hope for life!

 

The same thing is true with your relationship with yourself. You can take the personality tests and get yourself all figured out and boxed up and move along. You know what I discovered? If you want to stay alive and alert, growing perpetually, you’ll become dissatisfied with staying put in one box. Those tests are great, nurturing the work of being and growing as a process, with tests providing a snapshot glimpse of what you are at any given time. Meyers-Briggs shows me as an introvert one year and an extrovert the next. My projected likely career choices range from computer programmer to wedding planner to psychoanalyst, depending on where I am in my growth process. But there are consistencies that will never change. Details matter to me. Deep relating is a must. But the question continues to roll and beg to be found ‘round the next bend: who am I and how will I prove love as me, me as love? What’s the next creation?! This should always be so for those who want to be found growing beautifully right before the last breath.

 

Letters To A Young Poet gives some great clues for finding the way past the roadblocks to growth. This is one well-worn book in my home and rests first on the buffet/bookshelf in my dining room posing as the central hub of work for me: the office. It’s the pass-through room, computer central, book and piano stop where Rilke is well-loved. Then it moves to the nightstand and gets mixed up with the other copy lying around on the bookshelf. Page after page whispers out words provoking a million possibilities and my pen underlines, exclaims and writes out comments on the borders. Letters To A Young Poet speaks timelessly. There’s nothing of “current events and times” to diminish the potency of truth resting in the words and between the lines. Go buy a copy of it used and…

 

…love the questions. Love the possibilities and grow into the answers. It’s the best path to unity of being and unity with others, giving room for every chance and every chance for giving room…room to unfold in love.

 

jruth kelly © 2008, 2009

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