Monthly Archives: January 2012

Prayer

31 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by in Spiritual

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Prayer, to me, means opening your heart, listening to its yearnings, putting those wishes into words, and sending them out to the universe with the hope that they will be “heard.”  

I used to think that prayer was self-serving, that we need to embrace what we have in life and move on from there.  Prayer assumes that some aspect of the universe is “listening,” and I didn’t believe in a parental, anthropocentric universe. 

Over the years, though, I’ve come to think differently about prayer and incorporate prayer into my life.  Prayer always begins, for me anyway, with an expression of gratitude for all that I have. 

Duncan Sings-Alone, a Native American medicine man and Zen Buddhist priest, taught about two aspects of prayer in one of his workshops at Harmony Center.  He explained that masculine prayer involves expressing what one needs, asking for help with a dilemma or difficulty.  The feminine aspect of prayer is more receptive.  It involves sitting, opening, and waiting for an “answer.” 

Like other Native American teachings, the masculine and feminine aspects of prayer complement each other, and neither is more important than the other.  Prayer involves a dialogue with the spirit world, the unseen dimension.  It requires that we go inside ourselves to identify where we are at the moment and what it is that we need as a human being.  Once we ask for help, then we need to let go of any expectation, open to what might be offered, and listen with the ears of our hearts.   

Both aspects of prayer are necessary, the active asking and the receptive receiving.  Together they create a whole – prayer.

Walking in Woods

18 Wednesday Jan 2012

Posted by in Nature

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Sitting at the computer, my mind whirs. Busy with thoughts, ideas for a class, I organize and plan for the future. My fingers tap rapidly at the keyboard, trying to keep apace with thoughts flying through my mind. Yet nothing falls into place.

As my mind goes round and round in circles, my breathing becomes shallow, my body tight. Though my fingers temporarily slow in response to the thought, “might as well check e-mail,” my mind continues to race.

Suddenly becoming conscious of what’s happening, I take a deep breath and ask my body to release, to let go. My breath slows, yet tension remains. Dispensing with the e-mail, I glance at the clock, and realize “it’s time for my walk.”

After donning a jacket and boots, I step outside, close the door, and inhale deeply. Crispness enters my body. I sense air dispersing stagnation, enlivening cells.

Trail in WoodsMy legs find their rhythm as they guide me down a well-known trail. My feet make contact with the leaf littered path, sensing the earth’s undulations and adjusting accordingly. My arms swing beside me, counterbalancing the movements of each leg.

And as my body finds its rhythm, my mind shifts gears. I notice clouds floating across the blue sky above, the soft smell in the air, the rustle of leaves under foot intermingling with the hum of a distant jet. I open to each experience and connect.

I connect with the earth beneath my feet, with the trees along the way, and with the barren branches that have released their leaves to the ground. Touching a white pine frond, I sense green energy prickling my finger- tips and entering my body. My heart expands with gratitude.

Returning to my house, I reflect on the experience and note that my perspective had shifted. Frantic mind evaporated along the trail, replaced by feelings of interconnection – with nature, with life itself.

Nature and Culture

10 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by in Whole

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I live on Harmony Farm where we’ve been gardening organically, raising chickens and sheep, and connecting with nature for over 30 years.  In my early years of living on this land, I became enamored with living a natural life-style.

We aimed to grow as much of our food as possible.  Our chickens produced eggs.  The gardens blessed us with garlic, greens, herbs, strawberries, tomatoes, squash, and many other gifts.  I learned to freeze vegetables and make jams without using sugar.  During winter months, we also ate potatoes and carrots from our cold storage room in the cellar. 

Gardening organically and living in tune with the seasons became my personal mantra.  During the heat of summer months we ate more cooling raw foods (salads and fruit), and in winter turned to heavier stews and soups.  I also listened to my body as it cycled through the seasons, sleeping more during winter and less during summer. 

While our dream of living in harmony with nature was becoming a reality, we were also part of another world, society – living in it, working in it, enjoying it.  In some ways we kept our two worlds separate, leaving one to enter the other, but they also overlapped, and I felt torn between them. 

As much as I loved nature, I felt unfaithful and disloyal, for I also appreciated the comforts and conveniences of modern life.  My food processor was a blessing in the kitchen, along with the blender, grain mill and juicer.  And while I savored taking peaceful walks, I also fancied the feel of driving a high performance car, one that enabled me to feel my way along the road, sensing each turn.  As much as I enjoyed gardening, it hadn’t replaced going to movies, plays, symphonies, and eating out.

I felt torn, fragmented, pulled in two directions.  One of my feet was firmly planted in the earth, feeling her cycles and rhythms.  My other foot was speeding along America’s highways, which favored the straight, narrow path of logical, mechanistic thinking.  I wasn’t comfortable with these disparities and kept thinking that I had to choose between different worlds – that truly valuing nature meant renouncing culture and its technological advances. 

I was suffering from our society’s disease of either / or thinking.  Though nature had been showing me how she weaves parts into wholes, I’d been seeing the parts and overlooking the whole.  Either / or thinking was the culprit to banish from my life, not the machines that made it easier, enriched it. 

After coming to this realization 25 years ago, my learning from nature intensified.  I began looking toward living a whole life, not subtracting from it, and experiencing how interconnecting creates wholeness. 

Intentions

01 Sunday Jan 2012

Posted by in Growing

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People often begin the New Year with a resolution about something they intend to do, or intend to have happen.  Intentions direct psycho-spiritual energy in a specific direction.

Setting an intention is similar to entering an address into a GPS navigational system.  The system processes the address and determines how to get to that destination.  It may take you down circuitous routes, or make “corrections” along the way, but it guides you to where you want to go.

As a counseling psychologist and organic grower, I help people heal inner wounds and grow into whole human beings.  When I begin working with someone, it’s useful for us to set an intention, to decide together where they want their growing to take them.  Setting an intention helps us have a shared vision, a sense of where our journey together will take us.

On this New Year’s Day, I set my intention for this blog.  May it nourish the soil of your deeper self and help you grow into wholeness.

And as we begin this journey together, I invite you to set an intention for yourself.  Close your eyes, take a few slow, deep breaths, and ask: “Where do I want my growing to take me?”  Sit with this question quietly for a while, allowing the answer to come from deep within.  Then put that image into words using positive language.  Perhaps write the words down in a journal, or share them with the rest of us in a post.