A few weeks ago I was praised for my "blatant honesty and no holds barred attitude." My immediate silent response was, "I just don't have the time or energy for anything else." And that reminded me of a portion of The Tao of Inner Peace, in Chapter 2, in which Diane Dreher writes: "Men and women of Tao seek truth above all else. They have no time for pretense." [p.15] I also like this line: "Te means choosing truth above ego." [p.14]
I certainly haven't transcended ego, but I've always been a big advocate of the truth. As a little girl, as a teenager, and now. I rarely even think about it; speaking the truth comes naturally, and I always seek it from others even if it might upset me. What doesn't always come naturally though is knowing the truth. What's the truth? What's my truth? (And if you're familiar with Byron Katie's work: Is anything even true?!;))
I've been stuck on Chapter 2: Tao and Te for more than a month now. "Stuck" sounds negative, but I don't mean it like that. I think I've been lingering here for so long partially because of the explanation of the symbol for Te: "It's Chinese symbol combines the signs for "to go," "straight," and "the heart."And I think understanding more about, and cultivating te, will help me (already has been helping me), act and speak from the heart, to know what's true in the moment.
There are a couple of practices in my life that help me get in touch with my heart, speak my truth, be in the moment, and go with the flow: Continuum Movement and Sheng Zhen Qigong.
Sheng Zhen Qigong, the qigong of unconditional love, was what first started opening my heart. I hadn't even realized how closed off it was. I actually knew I was closed off, but I didn't realize that a movement and meditation practice could crack me open so gently and so deeply. Totally changed my life. And I am so grateful. Continuing to go deeper with this practice. And it's fun to see how Continuum and Qigong compliment one another too. In Qigong, the body is being moved by qi (well, after the mind gets out of the way, if it ever does!). In Continuum, the body is being moved by sound vibration and fluid (body is mostly fluid) (at least that's how I understand it). Continuum, like Sheng Zhen Qigong, has also deepened my connection with my heart.
I was recently at a Continuum workshop with a focus on the heart, breath, and grief. One of the exercises involved placing my hands on my heart and really feeling inside myself, deeply connecting with the physical organ, seeing if my heart could feel my hands and if my hands could feel my heart. Since then I've felt a shift-- actually the shift started in January at another workshop, but this one deepened my connection with my heart. In January the exercise had to do with really sensing, feeling, perceiving from the heart. Since then I've felt different. More in my body. Calmer. Quieter inside. Less fear. More love. More alive.
And all of this-- the qigong, the continuum, reading the tao of inner peace-- plus a recent death in the family and a friend in the hospital--- it's all been helping me quiet my mind, calm down, listen to my heart, and see and hear what's really important, and then speak my truth whether through words and action or just through action. Walking the talk as best I can....Because life's too short for anything less than blatant honesty and living as authentically and fully as possible.
Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart. Show all posts
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
From the Heart
She guides us through a heart meditation. Cradle your heart with your hands. Feel your heart beat. Allow your palms to receive the sensation. The beat. The pulsation. Listen. Feel.
I follow her lead, placing my hands on myself as she has placed her hands on herself. “She must know what she’s doing. She must be feeling her own heart beat,” I think to myself. “So why can’t I feel mine?”
All I feel is heat and a solid stillness. All I hear is a voice in my head, questioning my experience, or what I consider a lack thereof. I think of the times that I do hear or feel my heartbeat, and how it elicits momentary panic. Why is this? I don’t know. Probably has something to do with the trauma of my car accident, but that’s a whole other story.
During the meditation, I think of the definition of Te in The Tao of Inner Peace; I think about the "going straight from the heart." I think about my tendency to question what is heart vs. what is ego, to question what is fear-based vs. what is love-based. How can I live from my heart if I cannot physically feel it beat, and if the sound of my heart-beat freaks me out?
And how is it that I, someone who practices and teaches a form of qigong that focuses on opening the heart, is so uncomfortable with this deep, embodied, heart meditation?
Clearly I am giving myself a hard time over this.
And as soon as I realize that, I soften into self-acceptance. Seeing clearly. Self-acceptance. Finding my way back to at least those two aspects of te. I settle into the meditation, I settle into the feelings. I settle into the lack of feelings. I know my heart is there. I know it is beating. I even feel it from time to time throughout the remainder of the meditation. And so I open up to new sensations. Get out of my head and more into my body again.
It helps to stop focusing on the heart in my chest and instead to expand my awareness into my entire body. Today I learned to think of the heart as actually being throughout the entire body, thanks to the thousands of miles of heart capillaries from head to toe. As I feel my heart in the centers of the soles of my feet, the centers of the palms of my hands, and so on, I see the bigger picture. I feel at peace.
And yet-- SURPRISE!-- I leave the meditation full of anger.
I pulsate. Like a heartbeat. Open. Close. Open. Close. Peace. Frustration. Peace. Frustration. Acceptance. Judgment. Acceptance. Judgment.
Is this just part of riding the waves?
I share my experience with my peers and workshop leaders. I’m asked what I need. I don’t know. Nothing. Just to acknowledge both sides of the coin. Just the time and space to breathe through it, to move with it, to write it out, to feel it, and release it. And then return to the middle. Which is where I am now. Constantly returning. Returning to the Tao.
I follow her lead, placing my hands on myself as she has placed her hands on herself. “She must know what she’s doing. She must be feeling her own heart beat,” I think to myself. “So why can’t I feel mine?”
All I feel is heat and a solid stillness. All I hear is a voice in my head, questioning my experience, or what I consider a lack thereof. I think of the times that I do hear or feel my heartbeat, and how it elicits momentary panic. Why is this? I don’t know. Probably has something to do with the trauma of my car accident, but that’s a whole other story.
During the meditation, I think of the definition of Te in The Tao of Inner Peace; I think about the "going straight from the heart." I think about my tendency to question what is heart vs. what is ego, to question what is fear-based vs. what is love-based. How can I live from my heart if I cannot physically feel it beat, and if the sound of my heart-beat freaks me out?
And how is it that I, someone who practices and teaches a form of qigong that focuses on opening the heart, is so uncomfortable with this deep, embodied, heart meditation?
Clearly I am giving myself a hard time over this.
And as soon as I realize that, I soften into self-acceptance. Seeing clearly. Self-acceptance. Finding my way back to at least those two aspects of te. I settle into the meditation, I settle into the feelings. I settle into the lack of feelings. I know my heart is there. I know it is beating. I even feel it from time to time throughout the remainder of the meditation. And so I open up to new sensations. Get out of my head and more into my body again.
It helps to stop focusing on the heart in my chest and instead to expand my awareness into my entire body. Today I learned to think of the heart as actually being throughout the entire body, thanks to the thousands of miles of heart capillaries from head to toe. As I feel my heart in the centers of the soles of my feet, the centers of the palms of my hands, and so on, I see the bigger picture. I feel at peace.
And yet-- SURPRISE!-- I leave the meditation full of anger.
I pulsate. Like a heartbeat. Open. Close. Open. Close. Peace. Frustration. Peace. Frustration. Acceptance. Judgment. Acceptance. Judgment.
Is this just part of riding the waves?
I share my experience with my peers and workshop leaders. I’m asked what I need. I don’t know. Nothing. Just to acknowledge both sides of the coin. Just the time and space to breathe through it, to move with it, to write it out, to feel it, and release it. And then return to the middle. Which is where I am now. Constantly returning. Returning to the Tao.
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