Category: surrender

The Pursuit of Happiness

Happy 2016!


I saw an ad for a course recently that promised “total happiness” as one of the course’s outcomes (along with “your best body and beyond” – and all in less than a month!). Isn’t that how New Year’s resolutions are made? Out of the pursuit of happiness?
I’ve realized in my years as a therapist that there is an underlying message in our culture in general – or perhaps it’s best to say in our society in general, because there really isn’t just one “American” culture – that if we’re doing this human thing right, we should be happy.  And apparently we should be happy all the time no matter what happens. I’m curious about how this came to be, but the main issue I have with this premise is that when people find themselves unhappy, there is often a presumption of failure. If I’m supposed to be happy (all the time) and I find that my life situation has caused sadness or despair or frustration or anger then it must mean that I’m failing at this thing called “being human.”
The reality is, that by virtue of landing in a human body (however you believe that happened), you were set up for a life experience that likely will include a wide range of emotions, of which happiness is only one. Even the most optimistic of souls (and I live with one of those souls) occasionally gets sad, disappointed, frustrated and even angry. Every human experiences physical and emotional pain. It’s part of the package. It’s not a sign of failure.
Now there is the definite possibility, especially if your life involved overwhelming trauma, that your human system might actually no longer remember how to recognize pleasure. If that’s the case then there is some work to be done. Pleasure is part of our birthright. It’s part of the package. For happiness to happen, in my opinion, the ability to experience that which pleases us is required. And through the wonders of neuroplasticity, human systems – even after years of deprivation – can learn to recognize pleasure.
So while happiness isn’t necessarily the goal, a complete lack of happiness is also an indication of a system that’s lost its ability to be resilient. (Not a failure, an indication of a need for more resiliency). Daniel Siegel describes “integration” as the healthiest human state. Peter Levine discusses being in a state of flow. Either way, we are able to have the capacity to experience the range of life’s experiences, to be present for life and make some choices about how we want to respond, rather than going into reactivity. (And really, even reactivity is part of the package!) When we are in an integrated state of flow we are able to allow life to happen. We can be with ourselves, and others, as we are – happy, sad, lonely, joyful, disappointed, angry. We don’t have to get stuck in any one of these. Isn’t that a worthier pursuit than happiness?

Like falling snow…

I was watching the snow falling last week and was struck by its silence and gentleness. I remembered having the same impression watching a snow storm in New York in 1996 that practically shut the city down.  Last week I was struck again by how this gently falling snow, so silent and light, could have such huge effects and how force is often not necessary to make a big change.  In fact, as humans we often use much more force than is necessary, since we’ve come to believe that strenuous effort, even struggle, is necessary to get results. 

As I watched the snow last week, I also recognized the effect of the falling snow on my body and my psyche.  There is a spacious, expansive quality to falling snow – the snowflakes suspended in the air as they gently float to the ground.  There is freedom in their surrender, and as I watched I could feel expansiveness, silence, and a sense of surrender.  Something inside me settled and I felt lighter and more at ease. 

Nature reflects the qualities that also exist in us – since we are Nature as well.  As Nature hibernates and moves into low gear, might we also be encouraged to find time for stillness and quiet?  Like the quality of the falling snow, perhaps we might take time to check in and acknowledge the spaciousness, expansiveness, silence and surrender that live within our own minds and bodies. 

I’ve been listening to some wonderful guided meditations by Jeddah Mali.  In one of these she invites us to notice the lightness that is here now.  Thinking of the snow automatically (for me) brings that sense of lightness.  Noticing the movement of my breath also helps me feel that lightness & expansiveness as physical sensation. 

Sometimes when you’re struggling with day-to-day living, it is hard to imagine that there could be any relief because you’re focused on the struggle.  But right here in your breath and in your body is the possibility of relief.  It only takes a momentary shift of focus.

Notice how you feel now, notice body, breath and mind. What image brings a sense of lightness, expansiveness or ease for you?  Perhaps something from Nature?  Pick any image that resonates with you and notice how your body and breath might change as you hold that image in your mind.  As you go about your day-to-day activities, you might want to check in with this feeling again and again.

May you experience lightness and ease of wellbeing this holiday season.

From Resistance to Appreciation

Yesterday I took my 4 year old daughter son and 9 year old to my meditation teacher training.  I couldn’t find a babysitter and my teacher was gracious enough to suggest bringing them and letting them stay in a room close to our meeting room.  Her suggestion brought an immediate feeling of resistance and fear.

For some parents the thought of bringing their kids is a non-issue, but not so for me with my disciplined Caribbean upbringing.  I had visions of my daughter laughing out loud in the middle of a meditation segment; of people in the class being annoyed by these pesky kids; of having to constantly leave class to attend to them or quiet them down; of them trashing the room they were staying in and in the end of my teacher being displeased with them being there. 

Ah, the workings of the mind and the scenarios it creates to reinforce its resistance!  None of these fears were justified!  My children, though they can be raucous and challenging at home are generally very well behaved in public.  The class is full of other parents and gentle, loving souls who might actually enjoy the sound of a child’s laughter in the midst of their meditation.   And my teacher suggested I bring them!  So the fear, like most fears, was not logical at all.  In fact when examined closely, it was a manifestation of the ego worrying:  “What will people think of me?”  So of course I had to take them!  I also didn’t want to miss the lecture on Chapters 7 & 8 of the Bhagavad Gita (definitely worth reading if you haven’t already!).

Amazingly enough, pushing through my fear actually helped me appreciate my kids even more.  Neither one complained when I explained what was going to happen.  My son did a wonderful job of monitoring and helping his sister.  They occupied themselves with the activities we brought, and he was very quiet the two times he did need to come and get me.  We had to leave early to take him to soccer (especially since we were bringing snacks!) and he kept track of the time so that he changed into his soccer gear before we had to leave.  My daughter made lots of little foam crafts and cleaned up all her scraps.  She had pretty much reached her limit by the time we had to leave (in the middle of the lecture), but still they were both very considerate of being quiet as we left.  

Later that day after soccer, my daughter handed me a juice pack and straw, and sweetly asked:  “Mommy, would you help me with this please?”  In that moment I recognized again the sweetness of their presence in my life.  Even though there might be actual (rather than fear-imposed) limits to what I am able to do as a result of having to care for them, they are such beautiful beings and I am so blessed to know, love and be loved by them.

A ghost in the house – shaking up the “I”

I’m working on trying to be brief and use less words – let’s see how I do…

Last October I asked my Akashic Records how I could live from a place of deeper clarity.  The answer was surprising:  “Be willing to be wrong – about everything.”  What?!  I had to ask for clarification.  The reply: “Being willing to be wrong doesn’t mean you are wrong.  It means you give up the need to be right, which is holding you back.  It means shaky ground… Release the need to be right.”  All my life I’d seen knowledge as a reinforcer of my worth.  Being wrong was to be avoided at all cost.  But what the heck, I was intrigued.  Besides, I could always go back to being right if it didn’t work out.  What I got was a big surprise.  As I let go of the need to be right, something shifted inside.  It was like when you’ve eaten too much and then you loosen the button on your pants – relief!  I understood it later as being freed from the constant effort to protect and reinforce my “I.”

Sutra II of the Yoga Sutras describe the five klesas as the sources of our discontent, the obstacles to freedom.  The klesas are: avidya, or not knowing our true nature as beingness or oneness; asmita – identification as “I,” “me” or “my”; raga – desire for pleausre; dvesa – aversion or avoidance of pain; and abhinevesa – fear of death.  When I first read this sutra and the notion of the identified “I” as being problematic, I thought that was ridiculous (those crazy cave-dwelling yogis – what would they know about real life?!).  After all, who would I be without a sense of my own individuality? If I let go of that I’d be left with nothing – I wouldn’t exist!  At the very least it seemed to me a prescription for mental instability.  I didn’t realize that even that resistance was the manifestation of this “I.”

Dzigar Kongtrul in his book It’s Up to You suggests:  “This mind that we identify as the self, which we could call ego-mind, controls everything we do.  Yet it can’t actually be found – which is somewhat spooky, as if a ghost were managing our home.”  Michael Stone in The Inner Tradition of Yoga describes asmita as a storyteller, and the stories as a rubber band ball, wrapped around and around with more and expanding preconceptions about ourselves.  Even when these stories cause us suffering and separation, we still hold on because we identify them as who we are.  A Course In Miracles Lesson 69 begins:  “My grievances hide the light of the world in me.  My grievances show me what is not there, and hide from me what I would see.  Recognizing this, what do I want my grievances for?  They keep me in darkness and hide the light…” 

So last month when I decided it was okay to be me, I found she was very elusive – like mercury, hard to pin down.  At the same time I found the klesas.  Ah the humor of it all.   It’s been fascinating – sometimes funny, and sometimes really unpleasant – to recognize the storyteller arising, especially when I’m wanting to be right, or in control.  I often recognize my “I” when it is acting up as a shadow that when noticed and acknowledged, shifts slightly to the left to reveal a sliver of light behind.  A long exhale follows, a tightness releases in my chest, and in that moment, I can allow.