Becoming a Grammy on the Other Side Of The World

My grandson, Finn, was born yesterday. I am so ecstatic I can hardly contain myself! He is beautiful, plump and healthy. Perfect! I could go on and on—but hasn’t everyone listened to a new grandparent at one time or another? To avoid mushy redundancy, I will simply say I am very, very excited to watch Finn’s life unfold and to find out who he is.

I wanted to go. I wanted to be there to hold him when he was newly arrived and welcome him to the world. But, my son and his wife live in Great Britain.  I live in Colorado. I admit I was attached to the newborn “thing”. I love newborns! I love how they smell, how they sleep, how the nuzzle up and their lovely gentleness. It is a miracle how they arrive, as if from another world. Birth is a mystery that fascinates me and always has.

It took me probably too long to hear my daughter-in-law’s request for space. At first it felt like a slap—an “I don’t want you around”-kind-of-rejection. After a while, I took the high road and kept perspective. From that vantage point I realized a greater thing—my place in the process of Finn’s arrival was to help  them from the other side of the world.

But, “what does that look like?” I wondered. How do you participate energetically from thousands of miles away? I needed to pull out my metaphysical hat to remember the answer to that question. This one was going to need BIG thinking.

My emotions were scrambled and ENORMOUS as I tried to calm myself enough to wade into this territory with a different approach. Once I really began listening to my feelings the situation began to shift. I needed to let my emotions direct me to what I wanted. What I wanted was to be the best, most helpful, loving Grammy possible.

I calmly meditated on what this might look like. The image conjured was of loving children. I was flooded with images of my son when he was born. It felt like my heart would burst. There was more love than I ever imagined. It didn’t take long to feel the pattern once again. Concentrating on and holding  “love” energy was what I did in my son’s birth and entry into the world. Now, as Grammy, the process was the same for Finn.

I felt the hugeness of the love. I felt the energy of love. I felt the bouyency of the energy of life. I felt part of something much greater than myself. That energy had no bounds. It was not personal, situational or in one particular place or another. I didn’t own it. It was simply there for me to be held. I liked it! A lot!!!!!

It was an easy small step from this awareness to transferring love to Finn and my son and daughter-in-law and their little daughter, Amelia. I could just think about them and feel the love and light. There was an endless bounty of love. In fact, love seemed to expand exponentially as I was immersed in it. I had found my place to be the best Grammy possible on the other side of the world.

Last weekend, before Finn’s birth, I got an indication from my daughter-in-law about when it would be good to visit them. October. I am thrilled when I think about going. It helps me formulate a concrete plan. I will undoubtedly enjoy it beyond imagination. Still, I am blessed with the awareness acquired through the process of Finn’s birth:  Love is bigger than personally being in one place or another. Being part of something does not exclude you. You can participate in something wonderful and be on the other side of the world. I love being a Grammy!

Grateful for Arches

I embarked upon my Tai Chi journey last May. In the beginning I was lost—but in an introspectively curious way. Tai Chi was different than anything I had ever tackled. It was enough to simply "be". If I didn’t know what I was doing I could make something up. Sure, there was a several thousand-year-old form we were learning but, hey, there were more important things going on than worrying about perfection.

The funny thing is I don’t know how I made my way to Tai Chi. I had seen it being gracefully done in parks in San Francisco, New York and on my trips to China. I had thought it was beautiful to watch, but it was not something I had ever imagined doing. After all it was an internal martial art practiced for its defense training. It was only after starting to do it I discovered it was also done for health benefits.

Tai Chi felt “right” from the first class. I can’t put my finger on what it was that clicked. Maybe it was something I couldn’t think my way through. Who knew that not thinking would become so important? Any time I would start thinking in class, I would lose track of my body. In the beginning the entire focus was on what my body was doing and learning structure to encourage connection.

Then there was balance. And flexibility. And steadiness. Those were all things that had become quite precarious in my day-to-day life. I had taken three falls in the previous year. When new people would come into the class and we would introduce ourselves and say why we were there, about half the class would say “balance”. This gave me pause. I began to feel changes in my body that encouraged and allowed me to stay grounded and balanced.

I was basically learning about what my body was doing for the very first time in my life. I was listening to the subtleties of the body: joints, muscles, tendons, and organs, back, legs, where my weight was--feeling how complex and yet simple the movements were. Discovering connections and disconnects between the upper and lower parts of my body, side to side, pushing too hard, too far, holding hips off center, not letting the imaginary drop of water sit carefully in my too-tightly-curved hand...

My mind wanted to figure this phenomenon out. But I quickly gave that up. I have come to realize even in the short amount of time I’ve been practicing Tai Chi there are many, MANY levels to even the minutest aspect of every thing we do. Each move has a billion variations depending on each person, their body’s story, the energy of the day...

Some of the levels presented themselves early on. There were the physical aspects. Body memory was the way we are were being taught the form. I began to experience the subtleties of the brain breaking from its rapid beta self-talk and commentaries and dropping into calming alpha waves. I felt my brain shifting even when we’re warming up. At the end of each class I felt like I’d been swaddled for an hour and fifteen minutes. Held. Cared for. Loved.

Another level that bubbled up in Tai Chi was emotions. Slowing down and practicing the form made a lot of room for inner emotions. Sometimes there would be negative self-talk that would be severely critical and competitive. Sometimes there would be waves of sadness. I believe the body carries a lot of emotions. It became clear that Tai Chi was a way to allow old energy patterns to release and move through unconscious resistances. I liked using the body in this way without analyzing everything.

One day in class I had an “ah ha” moment. We were talking about the tiny muscles in the feet and ankles that create balance and we started walking around the room. We were to tune into how we walked. Suddenly I could feel the arches in my feet. I almost wept with gratitude. I admit it sounds like an extreme reaction but it has repeatedly been my experience with Tai Chi: small, simple things touch me with the magnitude of the mountains.

Have I mentioned the sense of community? I call this the “social level” of Tai Chi. I have been in many group processes and I can say for a fact the people in this class share something mysterious. The way the class is set up through the Recreation Center new people can come into the class at any time. Sometimes that is annoying, but ultimately it is teaching me patience. The core group though, the ones who keep coming back, are the ones who delight me. Besides being really nice people we share something that I feel but cannot explain.

I can’t help but notice that the practice of Tai Chi, while being a martial art that is about fighting, is pushing me into deeper levels of spirituality. There are within the subtle (beautiful) movements,  spaces of Light that I have only felt in the awe of nature, the joy of a small hand reaching up for mine, the sweet melody of a Beethoven sonata... I know I am touching into something much Greater than myself.

Okay. So you probably think I’m making up this magical story? Actually, it is all my Truth. Even the gratitude piece about having arches in my feet is true! How many people do you know who have flat feet, metal in their shoulders, stomach problems, knee replacements, bodies that fall down or get up too early in the morning? I have discovered a deep secret in the practice of Tai Chi. It is as solid as the earth and as ethereal as the blue sky. And the best part of it all—I love it!

"Feeling" Memories

The mind plays interesting games when it comes to our remembering memories. It can overload us with lots of information: with words reminding us of the time of day, who we were with. It can flood us with a running commentary on where we were and what was happening. Or, to be mischievous and trying it can offer us one word that is impossible for us to remember. The word unlocks a plethora of memories, all of which we can remember. We know the word we’re looking for but can’t call it up. Sometimes it might take several days for the word to pop up, and this often happens in completely random moments. We’ve evidently been working hard subconsciously on getting it.

While the mind can be quite helpful, the body does a much better job remembering experiences. Pictures dominate and re-fill us with a sense of wonder and awe. The body remembers the temperature of the air on the skin, the smell and touch of the sun and the day, the tastes—salty, dry, pungent, sweet. The body provides us with the feelings we had in our stomach—relaxing or tightening—and gives us the overall feelings we were having of happiness, sadness, anger, fear. From the tingle in the toes to the sweat on the brow—the body is excellent at remembering.

Last night I was talking with a friend about visiting the Grand Canyon. I have been 4 times, the first when I was 5 years old and the other times as an adult. As soon as the Grand Canyon was mentioned my mind started giving me information. It went on and on about the four times I had been there, who had been with me, what we did and on and on and on.

Then the oddest experience happened. My body took over and started giving me information about the last time I was there. I remembered an astoundingly red sunset hitting the rocks of the canyon making it look like a painting. I remember the temperature on my skin as it dropped with the onset of nighttime. I have a sense of who I was with and pleasant feelings about our conversation (although I don’t know what it was about). I can recall feelings of happiness and of wonder at the immensity of the sky and the canyon. I was able to remember so many things because of the information I was getting from my body and my senses.

The experience the body memory gave me carried with it a lot of energy. It put me back into the memory as if it was happening in the present. My world stopped momentarily and all there was was the Grand Canyon sunset. It took my breath away.

When I was brought back, my mind jumped in. It talked about the changes that had been made to the park since I was little, the large numbers of people who now visit it, and complained about the amount of time it took to drive there. My mind was rather cranky!

I realized that nothing my mind was talking about was helping to bring the memory into the present. It was all focused in the past and the future. When my body gave me the experiential memory, I re-experienced it in the moment. No wonder it carried with it more energy.

It takes practice to listen to the body. I have to remind and allow myself to tune into my body and listen to my senses as the memories come up. I have to let the memory relive itself in my body. With the body fully engaged, the memory can be as vivid and real as if it were happening right now.

The mind has its place. I find when it comes to memories it is important to train the mind to work with the body to provided helpful, reinforcing information. Perhaps the best scenario would be a combination of the two—working together to fill in the gaps that each alone might have missed or forgotten. The mind would substantiate the body’s experience and the body would bring the mind into the present making the memories even more experientially vivid.

I like to remember the good things that have happened in my life that have been important. I like bringing the gestalt of the experience into the present. I like the details my mind provides and the "feeling" memories my body brings from my senses. Mostly I like to replay pleasant memories and let myself re-experience them fully.

Inspiration

Inspiration is an experience that can take many forms. Wikipedia refers to artistic inspiration; sudden creativity in artistic production, spiritual inspiration; realization of something greater than ourselves, and creative inspiration; sudden creativity when a new invention is created.

Music, films, literature, businesses, cars, perfumes and travel journals are just a few forms that have been taken with the concept of inspiration. People have not only been inspired but have named songs, films, stories and poetry, business plans, cars, perfumes and travel places "inspiring".

What does it take to be inspired? Some people call inspiration the "muse". The muse takes us to a place of awe, wonder, curiosity in ourselves where we want to do something.

Inspiration is an energy that is high and wants to move somewhere. That is why artists speak of sudden outpouring of works, when this energy is present. That is why the creative impulse results in some form. That is why birth, death and life altering situations that arise in our lives bring us to new spiritual understandings and beliefs.

Loss, change and difficult things that happen in our lives have the potential to inspire us. This process can take lots of work and time but the end result can be a transformation to inspiration and a change in our perception.

People, places and things can inspire us. This experience can be sudden or take a long time to identify and appreciate. We have to be open to the experience of being inspired or else we might just get taken by complete surprise.

What does inspiration feel like? I believe it can be different for each person but there are attributes that are common elements for everyone. Inspiration can bring an "ah ha" moment. It can be a sudden sense of vastness and awe. It is a euphoric sensation. It is motivating. It feels great!

I wait on inspiration, sometimes for years. I don't know when it will happen, what will trigger it, what i will do with it or how it will manifest. All I know for certain is that I have been and will be inspired again. I can hardly wait...