The Power of One Word

When I was practicing as a massage therapist I discovered that my clients’ recoveries often accelerated after we had conversations in which I said things like, “You know, you keep referring to the accident in which your neck was injured as, ‘My accident’.  The word’ ‘my’ indicates possession, and possessions are usually things we are attached to, and want to keep. So, I just wonder what message that’s sending to your body.  What if you used something less charged while still telling the truth- like “the accident’?”

In traditional study of the sanskrit language, it is emphasized that each syllable carries a whole plethora of meanings.  Each written letter makes one sound, and one sound only.   Consonants always have an inherent vowel attached, which makes every letter a syllable in its own right. The pronunciation is so precise that to place the tongue in the wrong position during any part of an utterance may render an entirely different meaning.

In sanskrit, each syllable has its own associated diety, color, element, state of mind, place of influence in the human being (sometimes in the physical body, sometimes in the energetic layers that surround and influence the body - what westerners think of as “personal space”).  Add to this list, certain physical processes, states of feeling (called “bhav”), powers (discernment, compassion, anyone?), and a whole wealth of subtleties that could take a lifetime to unravel in their entirety.  What it comes down to is, this point of reference places tremendous emphasis on the fact that the words chosen to describe a circumstance will have an influence on that circumstance.

The power of words to influence and create things... from emotional states and body processes, to governmental policy and weather patterns... has always been taken seriously by the proponents of this particular brand of wisdom.  The sanskrit term that describes it is “matrika shakti”.  Unpack any sanskrit word, and thousands of meanings will tumble out!  So, to gain a simple translation we will call shakti simply “power”.  It’s distinctively the power to manifest (as in, the universe).  Matrika can translate as “little mothers”.

“Power of the little mothers?!”, you say.  Consider this:  the sanskrit alphabet, when taken in its entirety, is considered to be the very body of the great mother from whom the entire universe is manifest (even this is an oversimplification, but it’ll do).  Each syllable is like a holographic part of that larger whole.  So, yes, the power of the spoken word is made from the collective power of all the syllables together.  Little mothers.  (Is it too much to add that the matrikas are also warrior goddesses that support Kali, the goddess of destruction (don’t fret, dear readers - she’s out to destroy the ego-riffic ignorance that’s gotten us into the mess we’re facing in the 21st century))?  And that Kali wears a necklace made up of... well, depends on whose translation you read.  Some say 50 skulls.  But if you’ve trained to read between the lines you’ll know that it’s the 50 letters of the sanskrit alphabet from which she derives her power.

It’s always fascinating to me to look back on my time as a bodyworker and realize that perhaps the most useful thing I ever did for my clients was to make a small observation about the language they used to describe their condition.  Without even meaning to, I became something of a “matrika coach”.

I’d say, “Let’s play with ‘injury’ and ‘healing’.  Which do you want to keep?  Which do you wish to let go of? Look at the difference between these two phrases:
‘The healing of my injury’
‘My healing of the injury’
It might look like they say the same thing, but look at the power of the small words!
In the first example, you possess the injury.  In the second example, it’s the healing that is yours.  Whatever your mind may think, your body recognizes and responds to the difference.”

Sometimes a client would get really gung-ho and start revamping their entire “language wardrobe”, suddenly spinning off phrases like, “Every day I’m blessed in every way”, and “I’m turning it all over to the universe”.   People tend to start with extremes when we learn new skills, so I reign them in and point out that sugar-coating or denying situations don’t change them, and that the powers-that-be actually require our participation if things are going to be different.  You can’t just wrap your circumstances up in a cloak of new-age phraseology and expect to alter the course of the universe.

Instead, I encourage people to hone in on one single word in their habitual repertoire.  I say, “You are looking for a word that carries power and significance.   Listen closely to yourself (or enlist the support of family and friends) for phrases that you repeat often, like refrains to the soundtrack of the day, and look for one single word to change”.  

My favorite example:
If you replace “I hate...” with “I love...”, it makes a lot of affirmation enthusiasts happy, but it doesn’t tell the truth about your experience.

But when you replace “I hate” with “I don’t understand...”, it still describes the truth of the situation, and it also changes the charge.  If you don’t understand a thing, you may or may not choose to seek understanding -that’s up to you. But at least it doesn’t push it away and close the door, and engender bad feelings like hate does.  Ask anyone who hated gay people until they learned they were raising one.  Their hate had to change to “don’t understand”, so that it could change to “trying to understand”, and eventually to understanding. Then “I hate” can morph into “I love”, through understanding.
With this one single change, we open the door to peace between people who come from different backgrounds, traditions, cultures, and belief systems. 

One thing about those little mothers - they will give you anything you want. 
Problem is, they think you actually want everything you say.
And that is another topic, for another day...

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A Yurt, A Yak, and You...

I saw a friend recently whom I hadn’t seen in some time.  In the process of catching up, I told her of our mission to visit ecovillages around the globe, to research them and interview their residents and to sort of “try on” life in intentional communities such as these. 

This was probably the first time she heard me talking about such things, especially in terms of a new life mission.  I mean, we’d talked about gardening before but here I was rambling on about permaculture (starting at the beginning and going all the way to Findhorn) and how I want to blog about the “inner journey” involved in living authentically in intentional community. 

I said that we are looking for a way to create a life in which we have a minimal “footprint” in terms of impact on the earth, and cooperate with others as well as the land for our sustenance so that when we are living in post-oil society, we will be equipped to produce food and other resources.  She listened thoughtfully, as is her way, and then declared the notion a noble one, adding, “Somebody’s got to do it”.

When I laughed at this, she looked up and said, “No, I’m serious.”

This friend is a doctor, the kind of doctor you feel really lucky to find.  She’s up on all the current research and is also well versed in the offerings of natural remedies.  She often helps people navigate the otherwise murky waters of health choices.  I’m lucky enough to work with some of her patients and know that their experience of her is the same as mine- that she listens with such genuine concern and interest that you literally feel compassion coming from her.  She grasps the big picture of a situation and can help break it down so you need not be overwhelmed.  She has a gentleness that you can wrap around you, and still carries the authority of a wise woman who knows the worth of her words.  So when she declared our mission a noble and necessary one, I felt a deep sense of affirmation of the worth of our venture.  And when she came up with the title for this blog and challenged me to post it, I said, “Done!”

It happened like this:  we were talking about the notion of living off the land and also growing older (I’ll admit it - part of the allure of living in community is that at my age, by the time I learn to do everything I need to do to be self-sufficient, I may not be able to do it on my own anymore!).  How the dream of retiring someday to the old family homestead becomes harder to realize in today’s economy; that people are working harder and for more years to provide for a “comfortable” retirement, and how tempting it is to settle for uncomfortable retirement just to get a break from the exhaustion of working nonstop.

I mentioned that, earlier this summer, we’d almost bought a used yurt for eight thousand dollars.  At the time we’d just given up on the notion of home ownership, at least in our current town, in deference to our real dream to homestead or join an existing community.  I said the thought was that whatever happens and wherever we are, we’d have a place to live, comfortably or otherwise.  “You’d need a yak too,” my erstwhile friend pointed out.  We locked eyes and chuckled together.  “It sounds like a Valentine. ‘All I need is a yurt, a yak, and you’...”.

Of course every day since this conversation I’ve struggled with the fact that this isolationist picture really appeals to me in some sense, kind of blowing the community aspect of my proclaimed wishes right off the map.  After a long sleepless night under our noisy night-owl neighbors, with whom every effort at problem-solving and productive confrontation has failed so bitterly that it’s prompted another post titled, “When the Highroad Bites”,  it is so easy to picture myself cuddled up with my loved one, sipping yak milk in front of the woodstove in the middle of our yurt, in the middle of our garden in the middle of a field in the middle of some land far, far away...

But of course that’s another story.

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Anticipation and Growing Pains

A word about programs that promise to stretch you emotionally and spiritually: The experience begins as soon as you register for the course, no matter how far in advance or through what technological medium.

To wit: As part of our excursion to the overseas ecovillage on our itinerary, my partner and I each plan to partake of different courses that are taught as part of the rotating curriculum offered there.  I will be doing a week-long intensive introduction to the place, including lots of inner work/transformational mojo.  Jenn will stay on for a whole month and complete her Permaculture Design Certificate as well as training in other aspects of ecovillage life.

We each had applications to fill out for our respective programs, and I sent mine in by email about two days before she sent hers.  Somehow I remember reading that I would get notification of acceptance within 48 hours, so on the day she sent hers in I was holding the quiet hope that I would hear soon- maybe even that same day.  It WAS a weekend day, so I held space for the fact that maybe it would be 48 work-week hours.  Still, I checked my email about every 4 hours, even at work (this is normal for some people, I realize- but for me once a day is usually it, sometimes not even that).  Yesterday was an exceptionally long day.  I worked early and hard all day long, came home to shower and change clothes, then do a presentation on essential oils in my living room.  These are always enlivening and fun- I get to slather on calming oils while I help others learn to support their own health... at any rate I am always starving when we’re done, so as soon as it was done we bolted out the door for the neighborhood taco joint (yeah, I know they don’t have those in ecovillages.  There will be plenty of time dedicated to wrapping my head around that!).
An hour and a half later, sated and sleepy, I started getting ready for bed.  I was brushing my teeth when Jenn popped her head in and said, “Oh, by the way, I heard back on my application.  They said which building to go to to pick up the registration packet, where to go for meals...”  Her words kept going because it took her a while to catch up with what was going on.  That wasn’t a smile on my face, it was a holding-back-the-tears grimace.  Oh yes, it had been a long day, and the strain of waiting to hear back on my application was beginning to wear on me.  It had been six days, after all... not two, or even four (considering the first two were weekend). 

Let me be clear that there is no question for me about whether I’ll be accepted.  I have not experienced any anxiety about whether I will “get in”.  I’m very well suited for the course, there are openings, and I’ve paid my deposit.  No questions lingering here.  What it is, is that I’ve been looking forward to the rush you get when some new dream suddenly begins to move forward of its own volition, as if the “powers that be” are in alignment and your life’s new direction is being forged.  It’s the little zing that makes you suck in your breath for a second, the “Here goes!” moment. As eager as I am for the commencement of the adventure, I have total certainty that it is coming to pass.  So I knew I wasn’t falling apart because I thought anything was wrong. 

From deep inside I could see that it has to do with taking that brave and irrevocable step of agreeing to undergo transformation.  It’s nothing to do with whether I’ll get in, and everything to do with what will happen to me once I’m in there.  The ego (and understand when I talk about the ego I do so from the Eastern Philosophy standpoint rather than Western Psychology - so, ego is not about self-aggrandizement, it’s about keeping you small and separate and insecure and uncertain of everything except your own unworthiness - - THAT ego is the one I talk about), is mortified at the prospect of me delving in deep again.  It’s going to be threatened, and I will know it because I will be uncomfortable.  I will have moments when I think I am not good enough, that I can’t transform fast enough (or authentically enough, or radically enough, or....).  I will doubt myself and my commitment, I will fantasize about neighborhood taco stands, I will wonder how on earth I will sustain this experience and whether all these wonderful people think I am a fraud.  I will probably also wonder who among them are frauds, or worse- I may presume to know.  This is what happens when you purposely choose to move beyond your present set of limitations.  Your spirituo-emotional uglies start to show up.  Any old #215800-ers still out there?  Know what I mean?  And so, with all the bravery and compassion you can muster, you welcome the little darlings.

This tender young sproutling of transformative motion is what unveiled itself last night as I sat sobbing on the edge of the tub.  Since I am a staunch defender of the notion that you create what you focus on, Jenn was understandably concerned to know whether I was painting awful pictures inside this skull of mine as I mopped up my face.  I smiled at her.  “No, not at all.  Just a case of ‘back to school’ nerves”. 

This morning I returned to the email I’d received to acknowledge receipt of my application, to see how long it had actually been.  Late, late tonight it will have been seven days since I hit “send”.  I’ve had a good laugh.  Here are the words I somehow missed the first time around:
“We will contact you personally within about a week”.

Ahhh, so it’s begun...

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Daring and Delicious Life Changes!

Change is in the air, along with that subtle shift in the angle of light in late afternoon.  There’s ripening going on everywhere, out in the field and here in the life-path-assessment region of my mind.

In the last installation I mentioned that we had just essentially scrapped plans to do the “logical” thing - buy a house where we are because the market is good and there’s a window for funding that closes in three months.  We scrapped it because, at 42 and 47 we aren’t ready to close the door on adventure and a life full of meaning.  The old notion that home ownership is the primary element in establishing security is quickly fading in light of the fact that all of the things previous generations relied on for security are failing fast.  Traditional forms of investment, climate stability, and fossil fuel are no longer the reassuring assets they were to our forebears. 

It is perfectly reasonable to assume that all of these things will change dramatically in my lifetime (and most certainly that of the generation that follows); and while a great being once said, “Ahhh, What would we do without the last minute?”... I’m starting to think, why not learn to be adaptable before the last minute?

This brings us to my latest plan to visit a number of ecovillages over the course of the coming year.  We’ll be exploring what it is about this intentionally designed way of life that is so compelling to us, what it offers to our imaginations, and what talents/skills/assets/resources we can offer to such an enterprise if we should choose to pursue it.

Jenn has great talents for design and putting things together, the how to do things part of the equation.  While this part interests and fascinates me, and I really really enjoy it, my real skill is more about exploring the why of it all- the philosophical underpinnings of the movement away from the extractive economy and toward real community and self-reliance.  Of great interest to me, is the inner work required to make this shift authentically and with integrity.  After all, if it should ever come to pass that we have to live together without oil, “convenience” foods, entertainment gadgets and the like, we are going to have to have some skills that have long gone dormant in most of society.  There are lots of people who will teach you how to tend a composting toilet or build water catchment, and I am So Grateful for them!  While they get that part of the equation rolling,  I’d like to help folks with the inner transition.

This very morning I’m awaiting word on my application to spend time at a globally recognized ecovillage in Scotland.  There’s nothing in the inbox yet, so it’s just going to be another delicious day of waiting.

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Forging a New Path

Ahh, how I’ve missed this daily routine of wake, stretch, write!  Oh, and of course the steaming bowl of matcha tea at my side. 

This blog has been sitting here taking up space (wait, is there space in cyberspace?) while I got my body healed and my priorities straightened out.  It was difficult to grapple with the fact that I would be better off not to follow  #215800 to its logical conclusion with the intensive retreat. Instead, I’ve done the best I can on my own.  I’ve been reading lots of writers’ works on writing, the creative life, and kicking my creative self in the butt (with greatest compassion, of course).

The big shift has come, and it is this: I do not need to hold on to the disturbing details that defined my childhood just because there is so much good material there.  I do not need to be the next Augusten Burroughs or David Sedaris just because my young self was in a lot of twisted situations of questionable benefit to developing minds and characters.

I finally had a conversation with myself that echoed one I’d had with a dear friend I’d once coached through a very dark time.  This person had put heart and soul into creating something that was practically carved out of his own being, and while there was a haunting beauty to it, while it was evocative and compelling and showcased his talents beautifully, it was not gaining the recognition he had hoped it would, and he was not having the success he’d felt sure would follow his efforts. For all its virtues, it was also incredibly depressing by virtue of its content and focus.  I remembered a time early in our friendship, asking the difficult question, “Is this really what you want to be known for?”. 

When you have received an awakening, it becomes your responsibility to shine more light on the world than shadow.  Even at those times when you are completely overshadowed by the shadow, it is up to you to find a way to, as my friend now says, “show it to the light”.

The awakening came like this: I was in a treatment room where I was expecting to receive lymphatic work to support the final stages of healing from July’s surgery.  Instead, the practitioner said she’d like to do some energetic work and began asking a series of questions.  I found myself saying outright that I resist healing a troubled relationship from my childhood because it would diminish the material I have to choose from when writing.

Oh dear.  One of my best-kept secrets was suddenly out there, and irretrievable.  Like good merlot on a white linen shirt.

Our best-kept secrets are the ones that surprise us when they’re revealed.  They’re  like some unknown bit of us has snuck out the back door, come around the side of the house and up behind us while we’re on the front porch.  We may have an inkling something is there, then it leaps out like a mischievous little brother with a water balloon, yelling, “Surprise!  Can’t catch me!”.  And the challenge, of course, is to not try to catch it.  To let it be free.  Because when we hear the secrets we’ve been keeping from ourselves, so much space opens up inside.  It’s like we’ve had a boarder in the house who suddenly vacates and now we have this whole room back.  Now we could have an office, or a sewing room, or a nursery, or a yoga studio...  We are now free to clean the space out and do something useful with it. Meaningful, at least.

When my childhood vacated the “potential material” vault in my awareness, there was a period of mourning.  There’s still work to be done with that past, if I and the other parties choose to do it, but I no longer have to keep transformation at bay in order to ensure the authenticity of my “abused kid reveals all” bestseller, because that tome is no longer even a twinkle in my future.  However popular it might have become, however many millions I might have raked in, the practice of dredging through what’s already happened, and which messed up a good portion of the first third of my life, is not a good way to spend time- recreationally or to make a living.  It’s not right living, at all.  So I had to temper my shame and anger at even harboring the idea in the first place (secretly or not!) with the incredible sense of lightness and possibility that followed in its wake.

Suddenly there is so much to write about, so much that is important and true and hopeful and imperative and useful and genuine and very, very exciting!  Suddenly the things and thoughts that are truly of value to me can breathe again!  So much passes through this head of mine that, if put into practice, could really be a transformative force for positive change in the world... and now I’ve been freed up to show all of it to the light.

Now I am on the verge of a whole new world, where everything has turned on its head.  How else can you explain the life-path that, in two weeks' time, shifted from house-shopping in a town I don’t really love, because the market is good and the timing of finances says it has to be this year... to blogging my way across parts of the country and across the ocean (hello, Scotland, my ancestral home!), visiting sustainable communities and ecovillages in search of the source of that which draws me to them. 

First, of course, comes the unloading of all the stuff that’s in my physical spare room (and back porch, and office, and... you know the story).

More soon!