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.