Valentine Meditation

       Some years ago, at a spiritually-oriented conference, I presented a 4-day program entitled: The Alchemy of Intimacy.  During one of the sessions, I led the group through a guided meditation.  I'd like to share it with you. 

       Happy Valentine's Day!

The Lover Speaks

       Picture yourself in a beautiful wooded area – on a gorgeous day.  The sun is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing, and the temperature is just right for a walk in the woods.

       Imagine you're on a path that heads toward a clearing.  As you draw closer to the clearing, you hear the sound of a voice.  You stop and listen.  The speaker is not visible to you – and from the sound of the voice, you can't tell if it's a male or a female.

       The speaker is talking out loud in soliloquy – as if speaking to someone beloved.  The lover speaks:

       "Can I open my heart to the mystery of you?  Can I soften my belly to the energy of you and to the many different ways that energy comes toward me?  Can I receive the truth of you in all its versions, in all its contradictions.  You seem so new to me, so foreign – yet so anciently familiar.

       "Can I open to your divinity, as well as to your humanity – to your uniqueness, as well as to our oneness?

       "Can I allow you to matter, to complicate my already complicated life?  Can I trust myself to find balance – to make room for you, but not too much room – to give myself completely to you, without giving up myself – to love you and not lose me?

       "Can I approach you, each day, with fresh eyes – letting go of history, labels, preconceived categories and judgments – so that my gaze is filled with wonder and curiosity?  Can I see you with the eyes of an innocent waif, who has never before set sight on a human being – and, at the same time, see you with the eyes of the aged sage in me, who has seen it all and loves it all?

       "Can I come to you from the fertile void that allows the miracle of you to blossom without expectation or containment?

       "Can I notice the details of you with all my senses alive – eyesight, hearing, touch, taste and smell?  Can I also attend to you with that sixth sense that immediately recognizes your soul?

       "And if we become lovers, can I make love to you with all three eyes wide open, seeing you clearly - body and soul?"

       The lover is now silent.  Quietly, without being noticed, you return down the path along the way you came – walking slower, pondering what you heard.

       And as you walk, a question crystallizes:

           How do I attend to my beloved?

Ski Meditation

       My sitting meditation this morning was interrupted time and again by nagging thoughts about the mountain of responsibilities currently on my plate.  After 15 minutes, I gave up and went cross-country skiing.

       Five inches of light powder, with more coming down, greeted me at the local quarry-turned-park where I often ski.  Oak limbs and mountains of granite boulders were piled high with fluffy white stuff.  Quietly gorgeous, the scene was absolutely serene – and I had it all to myself.

       I love the way beauty in nature, once attended to, melts the frets and frustrations of everyday life.  After just a couple minutes, I could feel myself soften - mind chatter giving way to sensory delight. 

       Somewhere in the body, I could feel/hear Mother Nature's gentle (and, as it turns out, poetic) instructions: 

"Soften your belly.

Soften your pace.

Sigh, surrender to

Beauty - this place.

No worries, no work -

Just savor each site.

Breathe each new beauty.

Drink deeply of delight.

Be here.

Be now.

Belong.

Be loved."

       Thanks, mom.

Knowing and Being Known

        In Softening to Love workshops, I sometimes find it useful to compare three approaches to close relationship:  fusion, isolation and intimacy.  Each approach can be seen as a way of dealing with two human hungers:  the yearning for oneness and the yearning to be ourselves.  However, only one of the three manages to balance these hungers of the human heart.

       Fusion emphasizes oneness at the expense of individuality.  It attempts to overcome the wound of separation by making two people one - and often results in some interesting battles over which one of us we're going to become.  Personal boundaries get blurred.  We focus energy on controlling each other.  Ironically, in these efforts to control, we wind up strangling the very closeness we're trying to achieve.

       Isolation emphasizes individuality and neglects connection.  We attempt to protect and enhance the self by building walls – barriers that keep us from touching deeply.  We keep ourselves hidden.  We keep others at bay.  The irony here is that disconnection does not keep us safe; nor does it help us build a strong, resilient self.  Flourishing selfhood requires nutrients only available in the rich and stimulating stew of interpersonal life.

       Intimacy, as an approach to relationship, embraces oneness and uniqueness.  It honors our hunger to connect, as well as our need to be who we are.  In this approach, we open to each other and touch each other at many levels, without intruding or controlling.  We invest energy in two tasks:  knowing and being known.  In the trenches of intimate interaction, we do our very best to reveal ourselves, gently and honestly.   We do our very best to see one another – gently, without illusion.

       Whenever I get stuck, grappling with the goofiness and messiness of relationship, I remember my commitment to the path of knowing and being known.  This path invites me to let go of control and to drop barriers.  It challenges me to show up, to pay attention and to tell the truth.  It orients me, like a north star, toward deeper connection.

       It's a simple path, but not easy.

 Defeat's Teaching

       My team, the Minnesota Vikings, lost a "heartbreaker" last night.  Lapsing into old habits of responding, I experienced personal defeat that mirrored theirs.

       Watching the game, my intention to stay Zen-like in the moment, compassionate and dispassionate, was challenged by a number of miscues and lost opportunities on the field.  I did ok until near the end, when, with one final mistake, Vikings snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

       Old woeful stories re-surfaced (like, how the Vikes always seem to find a way to let us down).  I found myself ruminating about that final interception, re-playing it repeatedly, fighting with its occurrence, imagining "what-ifs." 

       Upon reflection, I see how that inner repetition of injury etches the hurt in neural pathways, deepening the wound, leaving a mark that's more permanent – like a steer being branded by a hot iron.  Mind chatter and rumination are so different from the healing experience of staying gently present to one's feelings and bathing in light.

       Grumpy and irritable, I chose disconnection over connection – finding escape (but not solace) in a book of Jumbles (word puzzles), when the comfort of snuggles and emotional support was readily available. 

       And so, defeat (an inevitable part of life) became self-defeating (which is optional).

       Luckily, defeat teaches.  Luckily, I'm not bound by past choices and patterns.   Being mindful in this new moment, I'm free to choose healing over rumination, relationship over isolation, vitality over habit.

       And, fortunately, football is just a game.