Ove on Love

         The novel, A Man Called Ove, by Fredrik Backman, is a book about a curmudgeon, and it’s a book about love.  During the last third of the story, I was totally unsuccessful in holding back my tears.

         Love, implicit throughout the novel, is explicitly referenced in only a handful of passages.  Here are two.

         “Loving someone is like moving into a house.  At first you fall in love with all the new things, amazed every morning that all this belongs to you, as if fearing that someone would suddenly come rushing in through the door to explain that a terrible mistake had been made, you weren’t actually supposed to live in a wonderful place like this.  Then over the years the walls become weathered, the wood splinters here and there, and you start to love that house not so much because of all its perfections, but rather for its imperfections.  You get to know all the nooks and crannies.  How to avoid getting the key caught in the lock when it’s cold outside.  Which of the floorboards flex slightly when one steps on them or exactly how to open the wardrobe doors without them creaking.  These are the little secrets that make it your home.”  (pp. 305-6)

         “Love is a strange thing.  It takes you by surprise.” (p. 326)

         Human love is indeed mysterious and tricky to navigate.  We are baffled and awed.  We are ecstatic and woeful.  I think God must have a sense of humor – inviting us, in this clever way, to participate in the expansion of loving universe, while housing us in human structures ideally suited to profound misunderstanding of each other. 

         Our primary love relationships are often our most primitive relationships – and our most important teachers. Awkward, we fumble and stumble, moving forward and backward, knowing and being known.  Eventually/hopefully, we come to appreciate the unique beauty of our individual houses, along with the beauty of the relational dwelling – and, perhaps even, the divine indwelling - we share.

Three Approaches to Relationship

         I’ve been thinking lately about three different ways we can orient ourselves in our important relationships – be they with family members, lovers or close friends. 

         We all want to belong and feel connected.  And we all want the freedom to be ourselves.  At some point in our lives, we’ve all felt the tension between those two desires – as if we had to choose between them.  And, at different points in our lives, we’ve emphasized one over the other – emphasized being connected at the expense of selfhood or emphasized selfhood at the expense of connection. 

         One approach to relationship, I call fusion, emphasizes connection at the expense of selfhood.  It attempts to create closeness in relationship by making two people into one.  There’s a pressure toward same-ness – to think and feel and want the same things.  In full-blown fusion, we dishonor individuality, either one’s own or the other’s, and disregard personal boundaries.   In our efforts for two to become one, we often find ourselves clashing over which one we’re going to become. 

         In the fusion approach, one person’s strength and growth toward wholeness can be experienced as a threat to the relationship.  Individual incompleteness is a glue that holds co-dependent relationships together.  I assume responsibility for your wellbeing and expect you to do the same for me.  Because my welfare is in your hands, I invest my energy in control strategies – controlling you and controlling me.

         Ironically, this approach to relationship, if unchecked, eventually strangles the very closeness it attempts to create.

         Isolation is a second approach to relationship.  Often in our early attempts to establish boundaries or in our response to the experience of fusion where the integrity of the self was dishonored in some way, we create walls to protect ourselves.  Deep connection is experienced as threatening to my personal integrity.  In an effort to be responsible for myself and not be responsible for others, I may find that I’m only responsive to me and have difficulty responding to the need of another.    

         Isolation is a stance of exaggerated independence, in which I strive for total self-sufficiency. My wellbeing depends on not ever being vulnerable, not ever needing anyone, not ever relying on others for anything important.  My walls protect me - not just from the risks of close relationship, but also from embracing parts of me I fear might weaken me.

         The irony of isolation unchecked is that the self I’m trying so hard to enhance and protect eventually shrivels from a lack of the nourishment that only deep connection can bring.

         The third approach to relationship, intimacy, embraces both our need for connection and our need for selfhood.  It doesn’t ask us to choose.  We each have our own individuality and we share who we are with each other.  Boundaries are clear and respected, and we regularly connect - emotionally, intellectually, physically, and spiritually.  We take responsibility for ourselves and we are responsive to each other.  We are present with ourselves and with each other.  We are autonomous, whole persons and we are interdependent.  We are free to ask each other for help and, when asked for help, we are free to say yes or no.

         In intimate relationship, we invest energy in two primary activities - knowing and being known.  Whatever the relational situation, I do my best to listen to you and see you clearly and I do my best to reveal myself to you with honesty and care.  Even in conflict, it’s my job to listen and share, to stay open to what I want and what you want, and to look for win-win possibilities. 

         Intimate relationships – between friends, between lovers, between family members – create an energy in their “between-ness”, a synergy perhaps.  Richard Moss calls this “the third”.  I see the third as a “We” that exists between “I” and “Thou.”  From my spiritual perspective, this “We” is the energy of Love – our contribution to an expanding Universe of Love.

         The math of fusion is 1/2 + 1/2 = 1.  The math of isolation is 1 + 1 = 1 + 1.  The mysterious math of intimacy is 1 + 1 = 3.

         Fusion and isolation are imbalanced approaches to close relationship.  We all experiment with them, as we fumble and stumble in our relational lives.  Hopefully, we don’t get stuck there.  Of course, being human, we still find ourselves, now and then, retreating to one of these imbalanced approaches.

         What helps me re-orient toward intimacy is to realize that, in every moment of relationship, I have a choice.  I can invest in control strategies.  I can invest in self-protection.  Or I can invest in knowing and being known. 

         I know which investment I intend to make.  How about you?

Choose Only Love

         I’m happy and excited to announce that my friend and mentor, Richard Moss, will be coming to central Minnesota this summer for another Deep Work Retreat – this one to focus on love.  It’s titled:  Choose Only Love.

         A gifted teacher and author, internationally respected as a leader in the field of conscious living, Richard listens deeply to his students and to Life, with an exquisite sensitivity and an intuitive grace that guides his teaching directly to the heart of the matter.  I’m regularly astounded by his insight and wisdom.  For me, experiencing Richard in a small-group retreat setting is like having Yo-Yo Ma playing cello in your living room.

         Here’s what Richard wrote recently in anticipation of our gathering:

         “In the present moment, in our bodies and hearts, we all understand love.  It is that which we desire most: to feel, to give, and to receive.  And though few really experience this, love wants us just as much as we want it.

“In this gathering we will explore love as a path and as a Pole Star – an essential reference by which to navigate every moment of life.  We will see how new discoveries in neuroscience help to explain our mental and behavioral confusion about love and how these same discoveries confirm the wisdom and practical value of the long tradition of spiritual practices that open our minds and hearts to love.”

         The retreat starts on Thursday, June 28, at dinnertime, and ends after lunch on July 1.  I invite you to reserve this time on your calendar for what promises to be a truly transformational experience.

         To learn more about this event or to register, please go to Richard’s website:  www.richardmoss.com  Scroll down and click on Deep Work “Choose only Love.”  (Look for a picture of a couple of blue butterflies facing each other.) 

         Scholarships are available to reduce the cost for those who might need some help in order to come.

         For additional questions or for help in navigating the process, please email Roseanna Ross at: rgross@stcloudstate.edu   or contact me through this website.

         Thank you!  I know this is a departure from my usual postings.  Because this opportunity is so close to my heart, I decided to take this space to tell you about it. 

         In the next couple weeks, I plan to share more thoughts on love.  Meanwhile, please trust the being of love that you are!

Trust Love

         For most of my life I’ve been a student of love, seeking to understand its mysteries and taste its sweetness.  I’ve searched for love and found it elusive.  So, I searched some more.

         I imagine the universe smiling gently at us humans searching and searching for what already surrounds us and is always within us - smiling gently at our apparent blindness to our lovability and love-ability - gently inviting us to search less and find more.

         I’ve come to believe that the search for love signals a mistrust of love.  In our yearning to experience love, we try to control it.  When we search for love in this fashion, we closely watch the other, focusing on how he/she orients toward us.  This expectant focus creates pressure in a relationship - a subtle force-field that impedes the free-flow of love.  We view love as a scarce commodity – and this scarcity belief becomes self-fulfilling.  The search for love begins with mistrust and ends with mistrust confirmed.

         A friend recently wrote: “Look in the mirror and love all that you see.”  More clearly than ever before, life teaches me that it is my job to love me – my job to see the love that is within me and all around me – and, eventually, to realize that love is who I am.  To quote my mentor, Richard Moss:  “You are, already, that which you seek.” 

         As I soften to love and relax into its unavoidability, love from all sources outside of me comes naturally - a free gift, over which I have no control and for which I am deeply grateful.  The more I open to love’s flow, the more I receive and radiate its abundance and the more I experience love’s economy as luxurious and luscious.

         I suspect that many of us have been focusing too intently on love.  Instead, let’s orient toward joy, service and fullness of life in the present moment - and let go of fretting about love.

         Let’s trust love.

Mud Settling

         A good friend recently wrote: “I’m really at odds with myself lately.  Trying to listen to what my heart needs.  Could use advice from a wise friend.“

         Presuming she meant me, I responded:  “Trust your heart, my friend.  Pose your question gently.  Let go of figuring and searching.  Allow heart-sense to appear when it’s ready. 

         “Having opposing feelings about things is part of the human condition.

         “Meanwhile, find enjoyment and nourishment in odd, small moments – like right now.” 

         The exchange reminds me of a quote from Stephen Mitchell’s translation of Tao Te Ching:

         “Do you have the patience to wait till your mud settles and the water is clear.

         “Can you remain unmoving till the right action arises by itself.”

         We stir up muddy water with our ruminations – figuring and figuring, round and round.  In the quiet of gentle breathing and simply being, muddy waters settle and clarify.

Watcher and Witness

         As an introspective person, I tend to notice how I introspect.  This noticing has helped me identify two primary vantage points from which I observe myself.  One I call Watcher and the other, Witness.  For me, both are personified as male. So, when I use masculine pronouns, I am speaking only of my own experience.

         The Watcher is a well-developed pattern of self-critical and fault-finding analysis and scrutiny.  For most of my life, the Watcher has handled the bulk of my inner observing.  His basic stance sounds something like this:  “James is not trustworthy, he requires careful monitoring, and he damn-well better be near-perfect and mistake-free or he’ll never belong and be loved.”  Because the Watcher developed within me early in life, he’s quite young, loudly opinionated and clearly biased in what he sees and points out.  His currencies are fear and shame.

         As I think about Witness, I find myself smiling.  He’s ancient, wise, calm and accepting.  My imperfections don’t seem to bother him.  He observes accurately and quietly, with kind eyes – and he never raises his voice.  I realize now that he’s been my companion all along – patiently accompanying me on the journey, observing my struggles and triumphs, my sorrows and joys - gently inviting me toward freedom and fullness of being, never judging, never doubting my value.  His currency is love. 

         The voice of Witness is so soft that I need to be very quiet, and attentive in the moment, to hear it.  His messages come at odd moments of grace.  While I can practice making space for these moments of quiet clarity, I have no control over when or how they arrive. 

         Watcher and Witness - two inner sources of feedback and guidance.  We get to decide.  We don’t have to entertain any pattern that damages the spirit.  We can consciously choose which source we cultivate and consider – consciously choose which voice we let in and listen to.

New Year Orienting

         For many of us, the year’s beginning is a time for reflection – a time to review where we’ve been and orient ourselves toward where we’d like to go.  It’s a time to look into the mirror with clear, compassionate eyes, to listen deeply to how we feel and what we value, and to pay attention to how our choices and behaviors line up with our deepest feelings and values.  It’s a time for clarity and gentle firmness with ourselves, a time to set realistic goals – baby steps, perhaps – moving us in the direction of our heart’s desire and our soul’s purpose.

         The standard joke about New Year’s resolutions is that we keep them for a week or two before reverting to old patterns.  Under the chuckle, there may be a sense that we don’t really take seriously the promises we make to ourselves.   For many of us, our word is more impeccable when we give it to others, than it is when we give it to ourselves.  We know that breaking our word with friends can damage our relationships with them.  I suspect we underestimate the harm that breaking our word does to the integrity of our connection within.  We may not see the message of disregard we give ourselves and the mistrust of self this disregard engenders.

         I tend to have lofty goals that inspire me and elevate my spirit.  The ideal of softening to love, for example, orients me toward opening my heart to the flow of love.  It orients me toward deeper connection with myself, with others and with the universe.  It’s been a “north star” in my life, toward which my inner compass points.  However, I rarely translate that loftiness into specific, concrete actions I commit to taking every day.  I go with the flow and do a number of things that move me in the direction I’m choosing.  I wing it - and that works out ok.

         I’m coming to see that the ideal I cherish deserves better than ok.  It deserves better than the nebulousness of winging it.  It deserves a clearer commitment, and more accountability, from me.

         Last May, a prayer/poem came to me during a powerful, vision-like experience I had while on a boundary waters wilderness retreat - an experience that mirrored for me, and connected me to, my Larger Self.  This prayer has become both an affirmation and an instruction for me:

Big Self,

Mirror Jesus.

Love in.

Love out.

Soften to Love.

Dissolve into God.

         So, one concrete, specific New Year’s resolution I intend to keep in 2018 is to make eye-to-eye contact with myself in the mirror each morning and say this prayer – meaningfully. 

         Perhaps, there’s a small, meaningful step you can take on a regular basis this year - one that moves you closer to your heart’s desire and your soul’s purpose – a promise you can keep.

         May your new year be healthy, happy, joyful and growthful!

         Hello again.  It’s been two years since my last post.  I do apologize for the abrupt absence.

         In recent months, life has opened new doors and offered new energy, including a growing readiness to return to writing. That readiness now feels ripe.  My intention is to post again on a regular basis – and to give a “heads up” when gaps are likely to occur.

         I am happy to be back with this practice – and back with you.

Our Story Too

         In the classic Christmas story, God took human form with the birth of Jesus.  In this story, the Incarnation was a one-time, one-person event.  Never happened before with anyone. Never will happen again with anyone else.

         I’ve come to enjoy a different version of the Incarnation story.  In this narrative, Jesus came to the realization – perhaps gradually, perhaps suddenly - that he was one with God.  In its final form, this realization was not an abstract idea for Jesus, but a fully-integrated knowing that permeated his spirit, his mind and every cell in his body.  

         The Incarnation was not an event.  It was a deep, embodied knowing.  Jesus literally realized (made real) and revealed a truth that the Divine is fully present in each human.  Each of us shares a divine nature.  Each of us is one with God.

         So … what if the Christmas story is not just about Jesus?  What if the Incarnation is our story, too?

         Have a merry and meaningful Christmas!

Two Commitments

       I turned 70 yesterday.  For a while, that number felt alarming.  Now, it’s mostly an invitation to re-orient toward fullness of life, to remember what’s important, to re-visit my commitments.  And, while there are many commitments in my life, two have recently come to the foreground:  Care for this being, called James, and transparency to the Flow of Love.

       I grew up with the notion that self-neglect is a virtue, that self-disparagement is humility, and that self-sacrifice is the highest Christian path.  I honor my tradition’s teaching to care for others and move away from self-absorption.  And I continue to work at releasing old, internalized invitations to disrespect, distrust and devalue my personhood.  

       When I care for myself in a grown-up way, there is no disregard for others.  There is, however, a claiming of responsibility for the life entrusted to me.  I don’t ask others to assume that responsibility – it’s mine. 

       Each day, I affirm self-forgiveness, self-acceptance, trust in, and love for, this being – with no claim of greater or lesser worth than anyone else.  I care for my physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual health.  I nourish myself in each of those areas – as best I can – treating myself to good things and opening to the beauty around me.

       I listen to myself, attending mindfully to the various voices in my inner conversation – fear, shame, anger, yearning, desire, hope, love, thoughts, stories, values, commitments and consecrations.  I honor the little kid inside, the grown-up realist, the wise and loving inner guide.  In giving every part of me a voice, I do my best not to let the youngest and loudest voices dominate the conversation or control the decisions.  I pay special attention to the older, quieter voices deeper down.  As I listen in the quiet, agitation settles and muddy waters clarify.  Wisdom speaks.  Integrity unfolds.  And I am graced.

       The second commitment, transparency to Love, involves a softening and an opening to the Flow of the Universe.  I lighten and let go.  I release any resistance to the Flow of Love – any resistance to receiving and radiating, freely and abundantly.  I regularly re-mind myself and renew my commitment to transparency.  I remember that, in this Flow, separation dissolves.   Warfare within ceases.  I am peacefully present.  Right action naturally emerges. 

       Breathing helps us open to Flow.  Here are some practices I’ve been using.

       Connecting Heaven and Earth.  Inhale up from Earth through the soles of the feet into the heart; then exhale from the heart up through the top of the head into the heavens.  Or, reversing the process, inhale down from the heavens through the top of the head into the heart; then exhale from the heart down through the soles into Earth.  (If seated, you can substitute the base of the torso for the soles of the feet.)

       Whole Body Breathing.  Inhale light/love through every pore, into every cell of the body.  Exhale, sending light/love from every cell out through every pore.

       Shambhala Warrior Breathing.  Inhale deeply.  Gently extend the exhalation.  Follow and join the molecules of exhaled air as they dissolve into space.  Let yourself also dissolve – into the spaciousness of the Universe, into Oneness.

       Breathing Love.  Inhale Universal Love into the heart and exhale Love back to the Universe.  Love in.  Love out. Let your heart unite with the One Heart that embraces all.

       Transparency opens us to partnership with the Universe.  Love flow through us during meditation and quiet times.  It flows through us at work, at play and in all our interactions.  It flows when we’re awake and when we’re asleep.  With transparency, each of us becomes a Love radiator, a healing presence wherever we go.

       So, two commitments: to self and to Self.  The self that I care for on this planet dances with, and dissolves into, a larger Self, a Flow of Love.  Identity expands, softens, and, at times, appears to disappear. 

       I can think of no better way to contribute to the well being of All – including the well being of 70-year-old James.

Emptiness and Allness

Emptiness gives birth to Love.

Love gives birth to Everything.

Everything returns to Emptiness

And is born anew.

Emptiness is home to Allness.

Allness is home to Emptiness.

Love is the pathway

Home.

Emptiness and Allness -

Infinite, intimate, creative

Twirling and whirling -

God, Dancing Love.