Putting the Fun in Spirituality

Yesterday we did an illuminating exercise at the DTMMS Board of Directors meeting. In small groups we described this spiritual path in simple terms, getting past the jargon and the woo woo and the technicalities of how we do what we do.

In our group, we talked about what the kid inside each of us likes about the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path.  We realized that in the course of the serious pursuit of ceremony and self-development, we get to...

• stay up all night
• go swimming
• dress up in skirts and dance around
• dig holes
• wrestle
• play with fire
• paint not just our faces but our whole bodies
• hang upside down
• dress up in animal costumes and dance like they would
• have nicknames
• be in disguise
• practice turning invisible
• be blindfolded and go through a maze with people shooting water guns at us
• tie ourselves up to someone else and walk around as if we’re Siamese twins
• make a star go across the sky
• talk to trees, and rocks, and animals, and plants, and other people who like doing all these things, and God, and the wise elder inside of us, and the warrior, and the little kids that remind us every day how fun being alive can be!

As I write this, sitting in a bakery, there is a 2-year-old in the next booth, playing peek-a-boo with me. As if this list wasn't enough to make me laugh out loud, he came along to reinforce the point - reaching for the more can be a blast! 

Patience: It's more than just waiting around

I used to think that being patient meant twiddling my thumbs, waiting for someone else or something else to catch up with where I was. "Be patient" was code for "Settle down!" "Take a chill pill!" "Relax, already!" It was the hard fact that Santa wouldn't come until after I went to sleep, that boys wouldn't understand me until some distant time after high school, and that potty training my child wouldn't happen overnight.

Unfortunately, that definition of patience was really only thinly disguised impatience!

As it has many times over, the teachings from the Sweet Medicine SunDance path have given me something more substantial to work with:

"Patience teaches the people tolerance. Patience is caring for all the little things that matter so that a larger thing is served."

That's what I wrote in my notes at a talk ThunderStrikes once gave on the topic of the 20 Great Teachers (Patience is the 20th Teacher). That's very different than how I'd been thinking about patience! It's much less about trying to control myself, and more about creating that which I truly desire.

In other words, it's working with the progressive steps toward potty training, not just wishing for the day it will be done. It's the fact that the promise of any holiday is much more possible when I bring my best (rested) self to the day. It's learning to understand myself so that I can more honestly and fully be understood by others.

Most importantly, patience isn't about holding myself back. It's about being so clear and dedicated to my vision that I'll do what it takes to make it happen. For a go getter like me, that's an understanding of patience that works.

The Seduction of Impossible Standards

Like Woman of the World, I have had moments of wondering if I am “enough” and if “I have what it takes.” Because of physical injuries, I certainly don’t “have what it takes to” to succeed according to the standards I held for myself a few years ago.


Back then my daily reality was an uninjured body. Now, my daily reality is that I am slowly recovering from physical injuries that are subject to reinjury whenever my self-care is not adequate. My hearing injury along with constant ear pain and tinnitus, even after months of being seemingly healed, has recently been reactivated by a brief exposure to loud sound. I knew this particular sound might be a problem and even had hearing protection in place. So much for having regained the hearing I lost in that ear. It is gone again. My foot injury has been even slower to heal , also with many setbacks.

At times like these, perhaps the best thing to do is to take Dr. Brene Brown and Women of the World’s advice to allow myself to breathe through my feelings of vulnerability, without attempting to shut those feeling down. At least that allows me to remain authentic.

I’m not as loathe to do this as Dr. Brown claims she was in her video, and I might even be one of those people she claims to avoid, because a significant amount of the time I consider being present to feel those uncomfortable feelings as they come up to be a necessary, non-optional part of showing up for my life, but, honestly, if one of my choices was being able to walk and hear again normally and without pain, starting right now, I’d really like to chose that option.

However, as far as I can tell, that isn’t one of my choices. Maybe a great spiritual master could heal these injuries in an instant, but that isn’t something I know how to do, at this moment.

Realistically, my choices are just as Dr. Brown outlined: 1) to allow myself to feel vulnerable and thereby gain authenticity and connection with others and thereby preserve my ability to still feel positive states like satisfaction and joy whenever they happen or 2) allow my fear and shame to cut off authentic connection with myself and others thereby causing myself to feel only numbness and the misery of being disconnected.

Once again, as far as I can tell, choice number 3: full healing of my injuries now, and not at some unspecified time in the future, is not on the table.

My understanding of Woman of the World’s definition of “having what it takes” is engaging wholeheartedly with my life as it is and with who and what matters to me most, despite all my personal limitations and shortcomings, despite the ways my life is not how I would prefer it to be.

Yes, there is great freedom in getting to engage with what is, here and now, instead of being shutting down because there is a gap between the reality and my ideals.

However, you may have noticed that it is a recurrent theme for me that I’d like my injuries to already be healed. On this issue I am as bad as the boss who hands out an assignment and wants it done yesterday. If the standards are impossible, completing the task is impossible. If the task is impossible, I have an excellent reason not to put any effort into it. Pretty dumb, huh? The stink of self-sabotage emanates strongly from choice 3, despite my attempts to hide the stench with a veneer of noble and spiritual sounding language.

Obviously, my life is an excellent venue right now for learning how to hold more of a space for myself of tenderness, compassion, and good care. If I desire healing, I need to hold a more wise and consistent healing space for myself, day in, day out, over the long haul. I actually need to show up to the healing, instead of whine about still being hurt.

Yes, it sucks to be hurt. But it also sucks even worse to focus my energy on the problem (I want to be already healed, but I’m not) instead of the solution (giving myself the care I need to heal).

I welcome your prayers as I continue the process of growing up and showing up.

Necessary Ingredient for Growth: Vulnerability

A friend recently sent me a link to a TED video by Brene Brown, a research prof at the University of Houston in Social Work. It might be called "Deconstructing Vulnerability, Constructing Wholeheartedness."  (It's not, though - just called TEDxHouston Brene Brown.)

But that's all by the by.  Just watch the thing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Qm9cGRub0.

She makes a compelling argument for vulnerability, the willingness and ability to be vulnerable, as the basis for growth, creativity, joy, belonging, and love.

In the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path, one of the wheels we study is the Blocks to Maturity.  This wheel includes shame, blame, and fear - three things which effectively block our willingness and ability to be vulnerable.

A few months ago, I wrote about our questioning of ourselves regarding whether we are good enough, whether we have what it takes.  This is another take on how to answer that question, through looking at those emotions/reactions which lead us to feel inadequate.  Brown has written extensively on overcoming shame etc., so we can simply recognize that we ARE enough.

But by this, she does not seem to mean the self-satisfied, kick-back-and-wait-to-be-served enough.  She means instead the "enough" that allows us to engage fully in life rather than holding back because we are afraid someone will actually see us.

And that - without that kind of engagement, we just can't grow, we can't learn, we can't become.  We can only exist.

Loneliness Teaches the Mastery of Power

The Elders say that Loneliness teaches the people the mastery of power. I've felt many faces of this teaching - being home to myself, fully committing to finding beauty wherever I am. But I must have more still to learn from this teacher - who seems to be walking with me lately amidst a pervading sense of being lost.

The problem with feeling lost is the embedded “should:” I should know where I am, where I’m going, where that thing is that I need now but can’t put my hand on. Without the should, wouldn't lost just be an exploration of a space I didn’t predict, one that I may not feel quite prepared for but which is here nonetheless? Lost means that there’s some way I’m used to feeling oriented that is not orienting me right now. So, being lost is the demand to pay attention, to create a current set of reference points.

That’s the pep talk version of how I understand being lost. Meanwhile, though, there’s the loss inside of lost that must also be reckoned with. The antonym of lost must be home, that place where we find and are found by those people, things, sensations that are utterly familiar – and the kind of familiar that brooks no critique. Home is a place we deserve, not the complacency of familiarity but the sustenance of it, the rootedness that helps us grow. Lost is the vacuum created by the lack of home, when home has not only gone missing but left no breadcrumbs to follow.

The paradox lies in the truth that home can and must be found anywhere even as it is a somewhere that beckons us to return. Here in this wilderness that I currently know as my own heart, here is my home of the now, the reality of where I live and breathe, the unequivocal welcoming of my spirit and being, the place that must take me in. Indeed, even as I search for the home that is on the other side of the moon, I do not leave this wildness behind – it must accompany me, and I must allow it to enrich and enliven all the places I inhabit. But I admit to being tired from being in a place where exposure is the norm and where warmth, comfort, and sustenance take such effort, scavenged from unfamiliar surroundings.

What is the power of this paradox? At the least, it fuels my determination to keep going - whether that's into greater ease with these solitary spaces, or in search of a path that reconnects me with others; most likely both. And it takes me, too, into the power of prayer. Paradox always creates a space that is bigger than I know how to be. So, the connection starts there; I'll keep my eye out for breadcrumbs.

Dancing to the Music of the Unknown

I've spent a good deal of my life looking at the relationship between fear and the unknown, learning to calm the anxiety that comes up when I don't know what to expect, or how to behave, simply by normalizing it. Until recently, I figured that was the best outcome - normalize fear as a reasonable response to the unknown, and then just get on with things.

Turns out, that approach takes way too much effort. Normalizing fear puts a box around it, gives it a label I can live with; but the fear is still there. I'm just using tricks to get over it, under it, past it, setting my will and intent so that fear doesn't keep me from totally missing out (curled in the fetal position or hiding behind some tree).

I thought that "grit my teeth" strategy was working - but I've recently figured out it's really kept me away from the unknown far more than it has ushered me into it. I might dip my toes in, or peek around a corner - but again and again, I've sought the comfort of the known to help me assuage the discomfort of the unknown. And in doing so, the known stays my focus.

While leading a healing ceremony last week, I discovered a whole new approach: let that initial flare of fear signal where the unknown can be found, but then let my curiosity, my love of learning, and my determination for excellence open the door. It's not a muscling through type of thing - it's delight and questions and humility. And connection - especially connection.

In fact, connection is the key. When I'm convinced that I'm all I have to rely on in this world, that throws me back into the known every time. When I'm actually connected to Spirit, trusting that Spirit and I are in a dance together, then the unknown becomes the music, the invitation to movement, the guide that takes me into partnership with Spirit, showing me the way.

What It Takes

I was in a ceremony the other day where this question came up: Do you have what it takes?

It reminds me of that moment in Rio Bravo where Dude wants to go into the saloon - through the front door - after the guy who shot Wheeler, and Chance asks him if he thinks he's good enough.   Dude responds that he'd like to find out.

That question - are you good enough, how good is he, is he as good as I used to be, you're not good enough - is one of the themes of this movie.  Dude proves he has what it takes when he walks into the saloon (yes, through the front door), claiming his place as a deputy in spite of his history as a drunk, and catches his man through ingenuity AND skill with his gun.  Colorado proves he's good enough by minding his own business, then jumping in on the right side - oh, and by his skill with his gun.  Feathers proves she's good enough by standing up to Chance, sitting outside his door all night, throwing a flower pot through a window.  Stumpy proves he's good enough by showing up at the right place at the right time - defying Chance, and saving the day - and by having a good throwing arm even if he can't run.  Carlos proves he's good enough by ...  Well, suffice it to say that all the good guys and gals prove that they're good enough.

But good enough for what?  And what, exactly, does it take?

Sitting in that ceremony, I realized that what it takes, for each of us, is exactly what we've got.  Neither more nor less, nor different.  But that means, too, that in order to have what it takes, we've got to give it all we've got.  It's like a key in a lock.  I can only unlock my own lock, not yours or Dude's or Stumpy's.  I'm the only one who has the key that fits my lock.  I have exactly what it takes.

But in order to open that lock, I do have to use my key.  There's no other way.

This is how we give ourselves into the world.  This is exactly the idea that, if we refuse to give of ourselves into the world, if we refuse the world our artistic originality, we are cheating the world, not to mention ourselves.

Refusing to give of ourselves because we're afraid we don't have what it takes - well, at least in that moment of ceremonial revelation, I realized how silly that is.  Because we have exactly what it takes.  Even, in a good moment, the courage of Dude: the willingness to put it to the test, to find out exactly what we do have.

Movie note: Howard Hawks, director of Rio Bravo, said he made it as a response to High Noon - apparently both he and John Wayne thought no lawman would act the way Gary Cooper's character did in High Noon (that is, ask for help).  However, I see a similar what-it-takes theme in High Noon, too, though there it's defined as the difference between a boy and a man.

How Do We Create? (Steps 1-3)

Of all the teachings on the Sweet Medicine SunDance path (and there are so many! it just amazes me), one that I find myself using nearly daily is the 10 Steps of Creation (based on the 0-9 Law, one of the Sacred Laws). This teaching describes a series of 10 steps - or a cycle of them, really, because each end is always another beginning - that occur as anything is created: a project, a relationship, an idea, an identity, etc.

This blog isn't intended as a formal teaching venue, so I won't even try to be comprehensive here - if this peaks your interest, check out the resources at DTMMS! But I will give some tidbits about how this teaching is useful to me. Here are just a few things I have learned from the first three steps (combining them with a few other teachings as well...):

1. I'm someone who works professionally designing retreats, meetings, strategic planning projects and the like, so I work with things like "mission statements" and "objectives." The first step in the 10 Steps of Creation gives me a visual for this process, and a way of knowing what these things should feel like. I see myself (or the group I'm working with) shooting an arrow to a distant target - making sure that the speed and direction of that arrow, the focus of my intent, is strong and clear. In other words, a lifeless blah blah mission statement or objective won't get us anywhere. It needs to have that "thwang!" of the arrow leaving the string, and the "thump!" of it hitting the bullseye. And at this stage, the vision stage, there is no gain in bogging the process down with all the worries or challenges or resources needed to get there. There will be time for all that, but it doesn't belong at the beginning. The vision step needs to fly straight and true, connecting the place you are now to the place you intend to go.
   
   
2. The second step of creation shows me that in order to take care with what I am creating, I must know what I'm working with. Is it fluid or solid? Restorative or radioactive? Is it able to hold a fine edge? Might it easily disintegrate? Just what is its substance? Applying this to being a consultant with change projects means asking things like: are we trying to change policy here? or attitudes? or the procedures or structures used for accomplishing a specific task? Is there enthusiasm for this change? desperation? resistance? What are the resources we have to work with?
   
   
3. A key thing I've learned from the third step of creation is that once we get into the form of something then, well, that's called life, and life can be messy. There's this thing we're actually trying to do, but then there's always pain in the mix (although remember: "pain is inevitable, suffering is optional"), and also the fact that life and death have this exquisite balance - which means that creating new life is going to mean that something is dying (which can be related to the pain, or could just be a challenge or a gift of another kind). Through this step I'm learning to let change just be real, to look for its inherent beauty all the while knowing that it will never look or act quite like I planned. It will be what it is, and the more I accept the giveaway of that, the more I can realize the truth of what I've put in motion.

Ah - there's so much more! But enough for now...I'll be back with more to say on the 10 Steps of Creation, one of the many things I hold so precious from these teachings.

Is it spirit, or what?

The Sweet Medicine SunDance Path is one in which we don't separate spirit from body, or from emotions, or from our sexuality.  It is all part of our desire for and path to growth.

In the first year of the Red Lodge Longhouse, we look at our 5 aspects, and what we call "proper choreography."  In other words, what do we do with our physical body?  Do we determine with it - e.g., the strongest person gets to be the boss?  Or do we give with it - e.g., taking care of everyone else's needs while our own go neglected?  What do we do with our emotions?  Do we determine with them - e.g., the person who screams the loudest or cries the longest wins?

How we coordinate our spirit with our bodies, our emotions, our thoughts, our sexuality, is an important part of spiritual growth as we speak of it on this path.

Some traditions, in some periods of time, have a perception of the body as evil :
"For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live."  The King James Bible,  Romans 8:13

That is not the case in the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path.  We ask, what have we come into human form to learn?  What is our spirit, our soul, demanding in this lifetime?  And so every part of us contributes to our spiritual growth.

How does your spiritual tradition work?

Again, Ceremony: the Gateway Process

I just have to say that the SMSD gateway process is, for me, a continually surprisingly effective path of self-growth.

You know how, when climbing up a mountain, you stop at various turnings and look down, and are struck by how far you've climbed?  That's what the gateway process is like for me.  I know I'm climbing, but only realize how far when I stop for a moment to look back.  And, looking back, I can also see how the path has been constructed in such a way that it is possible - rather than impossible - for me to climb.

I'm grateful.  That's all.

The Hard Worker and the Free Gift

I spend a lot of time and effort trying to make things happen; so much so I can wear myself out and everyone around me. It's easy to feel utterly justified in this - there are so many things that need attention, so many problems to fix. In arenas where I feel like I have something on the line, or some expertise, or I've put some time in, well, I have to admit: I get invested. And much too often, I call that being a hard worker.

You can see the slippery slope, can't you? If I'm working so hard, well I better be appreciated! It's so easy to lose sight of that investment piece - which, by the way, is really only my own personal version of how I think reality should be. It's a neat little package: I take my diagnosis of what's wrong, apply my solution of how to fix it, justify it with my blood, sweat, and tears, and viola! Applause, please, and flowers, and a raise, and a little undying gratitude wouldn't hurt either.

There's a teaching in the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path about the 5 huaquas: happiness, health, humor, hope, and harmony. Harmony is the one in the center, the quality from which all the others arise. And here's the thing about harmony: we can't make it happen. There's no way to get to harmony by focusing first on where it is not and trying to create it from there. Harmony is what we get when we are are present with the reality that is. Harmony is a blessing, a free gift. The one we get for just showing up.

When the Hard Worker in me looks at that, she throws a little tantrum. How can I accept reality given all that's wrong with it? And how come harmony, which I think of as a pretty nice feeling, is what you get when you cop out? That's not fair! What about all my hard work?!?

The reality is, though, that the Hard Worker is not really doing the hard work. Doing just what I know how to do, my way, on my terms - that's the easy way. Showing up and participating in the reality that is, and meeting other humans there on their terms, and creating something together...that takes some guts.

No wonder there's an incentive system.

After the Ecstasy, The Laundry

I love Woman of the World’s view of pre-ceremonial jitters.  It was an excellent reminder that it is often hard to interpret exactly what is going on with me, especially right before ceremony.  It is good to remember that what I call jitters might just be excitement, or expansion, or any number of other positive states.

I’m now on the completion side of the two ceremonial experiences that I mentioned in my last post.  As I think back on them I feel just as jittery although this time that might be anything from lack of sleep to expanded awareness.  (One of the experiences that just ended took place over two weeks.  I didn’t get much sleep during that time.)

I am now being gentle with myself as I move back into the fullness of my regular day to day life and catch up on tasks that accumulated while I was away.

As Jack Kornfield, a well know Buddhist teacher says, “After the ecstasy, the laundry.”

Ceremonial Jitters, Redux

Like Ms. Morganstern, I recently had the opportunity to experience ceremonial jitters.  Or, was it emotional jitters?  Or was it excitement?  Or was it a cold coming on?  It was really hard to tell! 

It was hard to tell in part because the upcoming ceremony touched many parts of my life, in addition to being a training for me. 

It was also hard to tell because the physical feelings were much like those I've experienced in a variety of situations.

I've noticed that there are some physical feelings, ones which I associate with emotions, that could actually be tagged in a variety of ways.  That is, I could attribute my feeling of nausea to an unpleasant encounter I had yesterday, or to nervousness about something coming up, or to the fact that I did a vigorous workout too soon after eating.  If I'm not careful, I can easily attribute it to the wrong thing, and end up taking that thing much more seriously than it deserves. 

In this case, I decided to become an observer of myself: to observe what was happening when the feelings came up, how they affected me, how long they lasted.  I learned something valuable to take into the upcoming ceremony: namely, that it was nothing more or less than a movement of my energy, which I could handle in whatever way I chose.

In some ways, this is a basic Red Lodge Year 1 teaching: balanced choreography. And in another way, it is more related to my condition of bodily appearance: how I am in my body, how I handle myself, how well I know myself.  And in yet another way, it's really all about maturity: do I have the self-awareness and self-control to stop myself from going into an unproductive reaction, and just see what's really there in this specific circumstance? 

It's a bit like my experience of performing.  When I first started, I was so nervous I could hardly do anything, and afterward I was totally (and destructively) focused on the mistakes I made.  My reactions were controlling me.  But as I did it more, and worked with those reactions, I became much more able to see them for what they were - energy, nervous energy, fear - and give them their own place at the table for what they brought, without projecting what that might be.  In particular, I was able to turn my attention away from the focus on mistakes.  That made it much easier to keep from making mistakes.  It also made performing much more pleasant, and also usually meant I would learn something from it and come out of it a better performer rather than a more fearful one.

In other words, having those feelings or not was really not important.  What was important was what I did with them.

Pre-Ceremonial Jitters

Next week I am taking two big steps in my “medicine training.”  Either one alone would be enough to give me pre-ceremonial jitters.  Having them scheduled back to back is giving me a chance to experience outright anxiety.

My teacher Harley Swiftdeer Reagan says that fear as a teacher teaches us to make the unknown known.  There will certainly be plenty of opportunity to do that.  

I’m glad I have been on a path of self growth and development long enough to know that I experience the jitters (as well as anger, resistance, negativity, fear, etc.) right before I take most any big step forward. 

That makes is easier to remember that it isn’t a problem that I am about to do ceremony that will require me to become more that who I already am.  It also isn’t a problem that I am reacting in uncomfortable ways to the thought of the upcoming challenges.  That is about as predicable as the sun rising and setting. 

At whatever stage of maturity I am at, that is just how I react.  Luckily, I still get to do the ceremonies, and I will likely grow and change for the better, no matter what, as long as I keep scheduling and showing up to these types of challenges that help me transform into something more and better.

Karma, Dharma, and The Miracle Worker

Almost against my will, I was drawn into the movie The Miracle Worker a few days ago.  I flipped it on out of curiosity - what did Patty Duke look like at that time?  Anne Bancroft?  I already knew the story, of course, so that wasn't the draw.  (In case you don't, it is story of Anne Sullivan's struggle to teach the blind and deaf Helen Keller how to communicate.)

But I became fascinated with the process of resistance and learning - and I recognized it in myself.  Helen had lived her first however many years with certain rules, e.g., she could walk around the table, take food off anyone's plate and eat it.  When Anne took over her education, suddenly that was not permitted anymore.  Helen resisted that change with - ah - alarming vigor.  But sometimes changes come whether we want them or not.

As I watched, I saw the concepts of karma and dharma (as they are understood in the Sweet Medicine SunDance paradigm) dramatically played out.  Briefly, there are certain lessons we must learn in our time here.  When we are still in the process of learning these specific lessons, we are said to be in karma.  One of the key features of these lessons is this: if we don't get the lesson in one form, it will come to us in another, more forceful form, then another yet more forceful, and so on, until we finally get it.  Once we learn all of those specific things, we move into dharma, where we choose what we desire to learn.  In dharma we may succeed or fail at our learning, but we are at choice - no longer forced to "get it."

I saw this in The Miracle Worker as Annie tried, over and over, in many different ways, some gentle and some quite rough, to teach Helen that the hand movements (sign language) meant specific things in her life.  Imagine the difficulty of conveying this concept to someone who can neither see nor hear, has no idea of language - imagine the difficulty of grasping that concept without the visual and verbal prompts most of us had!  It's really quite a big leap. 

It must have seemed to Helen through most of that that some outside force was arbitrarily forcing her to do things that made no sense, and preventing her from having what she wanted and needed to live.  And yet, as soon as she got that one concept, that one lesson, a whole new world was opened up to her.  In this world, she could ask for what she wanted - we see her demanding the signs for ground, mother, I forget what all - but clearly at that point she had taken significant control over what she was learning, what she wanted to learn. 

Sometimes, there's just that one click, that one little thing, that takes us from totally resisting change to understanding the meaning and direction of it, and what it means for us, and the willingness (even eagerness) to go with it.  For myself, I pray that I may just notice when I am resisting change, and look for the piece, the concept, the different perspective, that will let me see the possibilities it brings and how to move into it.

My experience with Harley SwiftDeer Reagan

Harley Reagan, also called SwiftDeer - he's a controversial guy.  If you've ever Googled him, you may have found some pretty derogatory stuff, along with the good stuff.  I've had the opportunity to work with him in several arenas over the last few years, and here's what I know.

He is undoubtedly an experienced and skilled martial artist.  I know this because I have been on the receiving end (in teaching moments) of some of his seemingly effortless but stunningly effective techniques.  I have also seen him work with high-level black belts from other disciplines, and have observed the respect they give him.  I can only imagine that the folks who doubt his skills have never visited him in his dojo.

The man loves to shoot.  The Deer Tribe Gun Club, which he founded, holds all-steel matches every month, and has been doing so since before 2000 (when I first learned about it).  Harley Reagan is an NRA training counselor, and runs NRA classes throughout the year.  That takes dedication, and to more than just shooting: to learning and passing on the art and science of safe and skilled gun handling.

His curiosity is boundless.  I don't know many people who read as much or as widely as he does (nor who encourage others to do so much as he does).  His knowledge base is really quite impressive.

He is extremely generous in private arenas, and often (though not always!) compassionate in a grandfatherly way.

His teachings in spirituality are both broad and deep, and useful in practical ways.  The body of knowledge and ceremony that is the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path (at least, the parts of it I've seen) is profound.

And, on top of all that, it is absolutely impossible to lose sight of the fact that SwiftDeer is human.  He's just a guy.  Anyone who forgets that (that is, who tries to see him as a "guru") is quickly reminded of his human-ness as soon as they spend a little time in his presence.  He can be cranky, obtuse, opinionated, stubborn, frustrating, and funny as hell.  And, like any teacher, you can't take everything he says at face value.  You are responsible for what you do with what he says.  But he, at least, is completely up-front about that.  Anyone who has heard him teach has almost certainly heard him say, "Don't believe anything I say.  Validate it for yourself."

That's something I appreciate in a teacher.

Being of Service

Recently I've devoted a significant amount of my time to volunteering - a richly rewarding activity that, with inattention, can become a hungry monster eager to devour as much time as I'm willing to give it. In order to take better care with myself, and bring more integrity to the time I do volunteer, I've had to look more closely at the notion of service.

At first I looked at it all pretty practically, setting a specific number of hours per week that seemed reasonable. Time was a useful feedback system, but gave me no sense of how to set priorities. Indeed, there were some weeks when the priorities at play made time a meaningless measure - either because my work and personal life demanded all my attention, or the volunteer work rightfully compelled my attention beyond the allotted time.

Recently I had the opportunity to devote two weeks to being in service, volunteering my time and skills to an event that is precious and important to me. This experience turned time upside down, demanding more attention and less sleep than I even knew was possible.

Coming out of that experience, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. My time bound mind was worried - had I gone too far? done too much? On a practical level, I've needed significant recovery time in the days after the event - physically, emotionally, mentally. In fact, it was a bit of a struggle to get back into the swing of my regular life.

Spiritually, though, I was elated. I had faced a big challenge - a whole series of them, in fact - and had brought my very best to the table: calling on all I had, putting as much beauty in the space as I knew how, making mistakes and not letting them stop me, learning new skills and ways of being, asking for help, taking care with what I needed and stalking in each moment how I might be fed by it, and continually connecting to the ways that my individual pieces were a part of something greater.

That's what the Sweet Medicine SunDance path teaches about service through the concept of maku. (Here's a full article on the topic, a message from the elder ThunderStrikes.)

From the article:
"Maku is not so much a sacrifice as it is a full offering of one’s self without expectation of return because to not do so is not an option."

Without the spiritual thread of my service experience, it would have been sacrifice (and even now I know I have more to learn about this difference so that these experiences are more maku, less sacrifice). Through spiritual determination, however, this service becomes a lesson in how to live my life.

It's not about how much time I give here, there, or the other place. It's about giving the time I'm giving in any moment because it is the best I have to bring to whatever is most needed, be it my dishes, a client's problem, a ceremony, or caressing a loved one. It's discerning what is true and real, within me and within the spaces I inhabit, and honoring what matters most.

A Day with Shotguns

I spent yesterday on a gun range in an NRA shotgun class sponsored by the DTMMS Organization of Shootists. Having spent most of my life in a somewhat vague anti-gun stance (resembling "well, how could they be good?"), the classes I have taken through DTMMS have been eye-opening.

My friend Karen has written about this in one of the more thoughtful blog posts I've seen on this topic, with some useful training links - the main point being that education always trumps ignorance, and self-reflection and self-responsibility are what really make a life and death difference in our world.

Having now been introduced to shotguns, I can't say I'll be racing back out to shoot clays anytime soon. I was totally surprised to find that I loved rifle shooting, and becoming a decent shot with a pistol has been an intriguing and worthy challenge. But shotguns...I'm not there yet.

I did enjoy the sport - watching my friends succeed, learning how to align with their intent and feel what was about to happen, predicting with greater and greater accuracy whether the shooter at the line would hit their mark.

But my birdies? Let's just say that if I were suddenly forced to feed myself by shooting small game, it might be a good time to consider vegetarianism. I understand the theory, and I even had a few moments when my shot and the clay occupied the same place in space and time. (A very few...) I know what it feels like to stop trying, stop thinking, align with that target and actualize my intent.

And that's the reason that yesterday will not be the last day with a shotgun in hand. Frustration and bruises aside (and no, bruises are not inevitable - they're just the evidence of how much more I have to learn), that feeling is worth learning.

Ultimately, that's the biggest energy I've gained in meeting the challenge to learn to shoot: I've encountered no other experience that demonstrates so strongly and immediately what it feels like to intend and hold total responsibility for that intent. And a shotgun teaches how to do that in motion. Yes, indeedy - that's worth going back for.

Separation

I'm traveling at the moment, and am presently in a very agreeable place: Ann Arbor, MI.  I spent a lot of my life in university environments because they are so stimulating: the university is dedicated to learning, and so is usually surrounded by a frenzy of learning opportunities, from the traditional bookish things to exotic and experimental foods to musical or theatrical experiences to community diversity, and more.  People in college towns carry an aura of energetic focus, of intensity and interest.  Ann Arbor is a great example of all those good things, and in addition is a lovely town; on top of all that, it's spring and gorgeous.  So, how happy can I stand to be? 

Well - pretty happy, as it turns out.  But on to the point of this blog.

I live in Arizona.  The culture clash between Arizonans (as represented by our legislature, for the purposes of this blog, which has just passed a permit-free concealed carry law as well as a very controversial immigration law) and the decidedly liberal university community in Ann Arbor is a little shocking.  In my conversations here I've encountered quite a few people who just refuse to consider the idea of even visiting Arizona (or are convinced their friends/family physically prevent them from going, for political reasons).  It's pretty clear from their conversation that they consider most Arizonans to be whacked-out Neanderthal right-wing-nuts, devoid of both compassion and intelligence.  I'm not exaggerating.  Do they see themselves ever taking the time, making the effort, to talk with any of them (always supposing, of course, that Arizonans can talk)?  No.  Decidedly not.  Most certainly not.  No.

It's a shame, because at least some Arizonans feel similarly about university liberal types.  (Well, Arizonans realize liberals can talk - in fact, they may be of the opinion that that's all liberals can do.)  And this means that all folks in either of those two groups know about the other will be the things that typically show up in the media: exaggerated, judgmental, hard-line opinions that serve to alienate rather than to engender understanding of the position. 

I'm not totally against political correctness" - as long as it is used to provoke thoughtful consideration of what one says or does.  But when it is used to justify shutting down particular kinds of thought, speech or action rather than to generate discussion and consideration - that's just wrong.  And separating from people that you don't even know, because you happen to dislike some of their reported opinions, without even entering into a discussion with them to understand why they might hold those opinions, falls into the latter category. Not only are you selling them short, you're also depriving yourself of an opportunity to learn something significantly  outside your own experience. 

I think of the university in general as one of our human manifestations of the value of statement, stand and stance one takes in relationship to general knowledge (one of the 7 Values of the Everything, from the Sweet Medicine SunDance path).  How do you get your knowledge? How to you test its validity?  How do you make sure you see multiple points of view?  How do you determine what you truly know?  And I want my university - my own internal one, at least - to be of the kind that is willing to hear other points of view, and to be equipped and willing to see where there is value there, so that I may grow.

Love ya, Ann Arbor and Arizona!  A3!!!

Fasting as a Spiritual Practice

Last night I had a serendipitous discovery when I turned to the Bible for a little late night reading before sleep.


I had been working late finishing a new video on how therapeutic fasting differs from religious or political fasting. The video emphasizes the critical details that are necessary to adhere to if a person has arthritis or another inflammatory condition, in order for that person to maintain the anti-inflammatory benefits of the fast long after the fast is over.

I admit that despite my Christian upbringing, I don’t read the Bible very often. I probably turned to the Bible last night because I was subconsciously wondering just what it had to say about religious fasting. However, I never expected to flip my Bible open to such a clear and inspiring answer.

To my amazement there is a whole chapter in Isaiah (Isaiah 58) dedicated to describing how to fast. I might have expected such a thing in Leviticus which lays out religious practice in detail. I might have expected such thing in Deuteronomy were the law is spelled out again. But Isaiah? He was one of the prophets.

Then it all started making sense. I have fasted many times in my life. I started fasting as a way to regain my health. It worked. Now I fast as part of my spiritual path. I love how much easier it is to hear, see, and feel spirit when I am several days into a fast. I am always a little sad to break a longer fast, because I find the more open and enhanced communion with spirit to be so deeply comforting and life affirming.

Prophets are the ones among us communing with God and communicating from that place to their people. It makes perfect sense is that Isaiah, one of greatest of the Hebrew prophets, would be the one to give such inspiring instructions on how to fast. It is clear from Isaiah 58 that he must have loved fasting very much for the ways it brought him and his people closer to God.

Every year I go out into the desert for a ceremony that, involves 4 days of fasting while singing, dancing and praying as a community.

Desert near Phoenix, AZ

Isaiah 58: 11-12

11: And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water whose waters fail not.

12: And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.

I give thanks to Harley Swiftdeer Reagan, for bringing ceremony to the people of the Deer Tribe Metis Medicine Society.

May the souls of all people be satisfied even in drought. May we, and all people seeking the light, be successful in repairing the breach and restoring the paths to dwell in.