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.