Beyond that world of opposites is an unseen, but experienced, unity and identity in us all.
Joseph Campbell
As I prepare to give a workshop on Soul Portrait in a couple weeks, I think about the nurses aides who helped my mother in her last months of life. Later, I will write about them and the challenges they face in a job that is often thankless and overwhelming. Our health care system is dangerously close to being void of meaningful human connection; and health care workers need soul contact as much as their patients do. What follows is part of an entry I wrote two years ago in Sojourn (a former blog) -- with a new conclusion.
My husband and I were eating lunch in a small restaurant when I overheard a waitress say to the bartender, "I hate it when customers don't make eye contact. I may be just a waitress, but I'm every bit as good as they are." She sounded angry and didn't seem to care who heard her. When she brought our bill, I told her I could sense her frustration. In reply, she said, "There are times I feel invisible."
Who among us hasn't felt invisible? More to the point, who among us hasn't ignored someone else because we were deep in thought or conversation? I remember coming out of a grocery store several years ago, unlocking the car door, and saying to myself, "Who checked me out?" While waiting in line, I had leafed through a magazine, inched up to the clerk with my eyes on the conveyor belt, and focused on the business at hand. I was so busy making sure she entered the correct prices, I never once looked at her. I watched a pair of hands bag my groceries while I wrote a check and said my perfunctory "thank you". Without a glance back, I aimed my cart for the exit and headed out the door.
Because I was so engrossed in what I was doing, I missed an opportunity to recognize the person who was helping me do it. I totally ignored her. Eye contact is not only about human connection, it's about being in the moment. I was somewhere in the future, concerned about getting my stuff home and into the pantry so I could move on to the next task.
When I was in junior high school, I had the privilege of meeting a well-known speaker before she was scheduled to address our class. She took my hand, looked me in the eye, and very deliberately said, "Sally, I'm so pleased to meet you." Our first encounter lasted only a few seconds, but right then and there, I knew I wanted to experience that validation again. And I wanted to do the same for others. With the firmness of her hand, the tone of her voice, the mention of my name, and the look in her eyes, Mrs. Whitney illustrated the power of a soul connection.
Decades later, I met an author, a religious figure from our community who is respected world-wide. I went to a book signing where she inscribed the following in my copy: 'To Sally, in whose eyes ideas glow and truths live lively.' Surrounded by a flurry of activity, this adored writer never looked directly at me; and yet with good intentions, she chose to write about my eyes.
Eye contact is only one way to make a soul connection. I love hearing my name spoken; in fact, one of my closest friends has a way of saying 'Sally' that makes my heart melt. She puts a soft emphasis on it, as if the name 'Sally' is the only name in the world that matters to her. With such a heartfelt introduction, we make an immediate connection.
A similarly warm feeling arises when someone uses my name in the greeting of an e-mail. Typically, most e-mail senders don't bother to acknowledge the one to whom they are sending the note. One could say my objection is a generational handicap; but since my kids always begin with 'Mom' and end with 'love' (with no hints from me), I know it isn't. What's up? Are people in such a hurry they feel compelled to get out their message and get it out quickly? Has etiquette died for the sake of convenience?
We all want and need to be loved, acknowledged, heard, and appreciated. Man or woman, Democrat or Republican, gay or straight, doctor or nurse's aide -- no matter who we are or what we do in life, we need each other. Remembering our connection is what helps us understand, respect, and accept one another.
I wrote that last sentence with conviction, and now is the time to own it: I will try to remember this the next time I get upset with someone from the other political party (every single day). Still fresh in my mind is something I read this morning; and it gave me a jolt. Poet Theodore Roethke said, "Listen to the haters: they may remind you of new ways to love." If there is a time ripe for listening, this is it. These days, we are afraid of what the other party will do to the country if they get in - or remain in - power. In the blink of an eye, our fear can turn into hatred...and for some, it already has.
Each day I look around me and wonder how I can make a meaningful connection with people I meet. I will try to send e-mails with the reader's name in the greeting, look directly into the eyes of the checkout person at the store, listen to a friend process a problem without interrupting, and say 'thank you' every chance I get. I'll take my time, because I remember something else Roethke said: "The greatest assassin of life is haste."
If there is anything that would make our lives better, it would be taking life at a slower pace. Being attentive to the moment -- and pausing to acknowledge another person -- is life-affirming; it gives meaning and comfort where we may feel none is possible, on a day we may have started out wishing we could have stayed in bed.
(c) Sally Z McBain
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Living in the Moment
"There is only one moment in time when it is essential to awaken. That moment is now." Buddha
For thirty years, I was a devotee of self-help books, each one helping me see life through a clearer lens. I have given some away, but there are several others I'll never part with; one of them is Ekhart Tolle's The Power of Now. It carried me over the threshold from oblivion into awareness....over and over again. I bought the book in 2001 and read it once a year for six years. Then one day, I put Tolle back in his place on the shelf, alongside Wayne Dyer, Pema Chodron, and Thich Nhat Hanh, thinking I finally got the message.
As I approach 65 years of age, thoughts and fears still drive me to distraction. I acutely remember the aging process of my parents and wonder if I will have to endure the same indignities and frustrations. Am I going to drive my kids nuts? Will they be understanding and patient with me when I start to forget things, ask them to repeat everything they say, or fall asleep at the drop of a hat? What if I start calling them several times a day? What if I have to give up my home someday?
Recently, I got out The Power of Now and re-read this quote: "Do you have many 'what if' thoughts? You are identified with your mind, which is projecting itself into an imaginary future situation and creating fear. There is no way that you can cope with such a situation, because it doesn't exist. It's a mental phantom." According to this statement, I'm an expert on mental phantoms. I'm replacing the current moment with anxiety over something that is yet to come...if it comes at all. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow or die of a heart attack before I have a chance to get old. If I can't get back on track, I will miss the joy of living my life to its fullest.
Being in the moment isn't just about not worrying; it's about focusing on what I'm doing all day long. Why is it so difficult to think one thought at a time, take one day at a time, and do one thing at a time? The older I get, the more I realize this is the only moment I have. This very moment is my life and it's up to me to make the most of it. I've lost precious time by mindlessly multitasking, looking back, and planning ahead. "Live each moment completely and the future will take care of itself. Fully enjoy the wonder and beauty of each moment", said the Indian yogi, Yogananda. I've squandered too many precious moments thinking about the future.
Non-awareness puts me in an unconscious state; and if left to continue, will claim my life. I'm sure of it; I'll be 85 and wondering what I did all these years. I'll have photos, paintings, writings, and knitted garments galore; but was I really focused on them when I shot, painted, wrote, or knitted them? Will they just be part of a collection, or will they represent one woman's consciously lived life? I'm the only one who can answer those questions.
I wrote the following in my journal less than a month before my mother died: I feel as if I'm standing inside the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet, still, serene. Mother is stronger; Dad is more cheerful. It's a blessing fraught with dread; but here and now, we rest together -- maybe for a week, maybe for just a few hours. I have a short while longer to study their faces, treasure the sound of their voices, listen to them breathe. I won't lose this moment.
Since then, I've become acutely aware how short life really is. Thanks to Ekhart Tolle, I'm getting better at staying aware of the moment, in spite of the random, racing, brain activity that still has its way with me on a daily basis. It takes commitment and re-commitment to live in the moment. But the pay-off is well worth it; when I live in the moment, I never lose it.
I used to write in a diary as a young girl. Each day, I would jot down everything I did that day. A few of the entries were simply, 'boring day'. In my early 30's, I learned about journals and filled notebook after notebook, going into much more detail about my thoughts and feelings. Now, I've gone back to writing in a diary. There's something comforting (and very simple) about keeping track of what I do each day. Not only can I look back on the week's activities; I can check in with myself to see if I engaged in those activities with awareness.
Another moment has arrived: my fingers are clicking away at the computer. Ice cubes in my glass of iced coffee are getting smaller and smaller, and the quail is calling to his mate. Right this minute, I'm living my life the way I intend - without a worry in the world.
June poppies
(c) Sally Z McBain
Adapted from my former blog, Sojourn
For thirty years, I was a devotee of self-help books, each one helping me see life through a clearer lens. I have given some away, but there are several others I'll never part with; one of them is Ekhart Tolle's The Power of Now. It carried me over the threshold from oblivion into awareness....over and over again. I bought the book in 2001 and read it once a year for six years. Then one day, I put Tolle back in his place on the shelf, alongside Wayne Dyer, Pema Chodron, and Thich Nhat Hanh, thinking I finally got the message.
As I approach 65 years of age, thoughts and fears still drive me to distraction. I acutely remember the aging process of my parents and wonder if I will have to endure the same indignities and frustrations. Am I going to drive my kids nuts? Will they be understanding and patient with me when I start to forget things, ask them to repeat everything they say, or fall asleep at the drop of a hat? What if I start calling them several times a day? What if I have to give up my home someday?
Recently, I got out The Power of Now and re-read this quote: "Do you have many 'what if' thoughts? You are identified with your mind, which is projecting itself into an imaginary future situation and creating fear. There is no way that you can cope with such a situation, because it doesn't exist. It's a mental phantom." According to this statement, I'm an expert on mental phantoms. I'm replacing the current moment with anxiety over something that is yet to come...if it comes at all. I could get hit by a truck tomorrow or die of a heart attack before I have a chance to get old. If I can't get back on track, I will miss the joy of living my life to its fullest.
Being in the moment isn't just about not worrying; it's about focusing on what I'm doing all day long. Why is it so difficult to think one thought at a time, take one day at a time, and do one thing at a time? The older I get, the more I realize this is the only moment I have. This very moment is my life and it's up to me to make the most of it. I've lost precious time by mindlessly multitasking, looking back, and planning ahead. "Live each moment completely and the future will take care of itself. Fully enjoy the wonder and beauty of each moment", said the Indian yogi, Yogananda. I've squandered too many precious moments thinking about the future.
Non-awareness puts me in an unconscious state; and if left to continue, will claim my life. I'm sure of it; I'll be 85 and wondering what I did all these years. I'll have photos, paintings, writings, and knitted garments galore; but was I really focused on them when I shot, painted, wrote, or knitted them? Will they just be part of a collection, or will they represent one woman's consciously lived life? I'm the only one who can answer those questions.
I wrote the following in my journal less than a month before my mother died: I feel as if I'm standing inside the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet, still, serene. Mother is stronger; Dad is more cheerful. It's a blessing fraught with dread; but here and now, we rest together -- maybe for a week, maybe for just a few hours. I have a short while longer to study their faces, treasure the sound of their voices, listen to them breathe. I won't lose this moment.
Since then, I've become acutely aware how short life really is. Thanks to Ekhart Tolle, I'm getting better at staying aware of the moment, in spite of the random, racing, brain activity that still has its way with me on a daily basis. It takes commitment and re-commitment to live in the moment. But the pay-off is well worth it; when I live in the moment, I never lose it.
I used to write in a diary as a young girl. Each day, I would jot down everything I did that day. A few of the entries were simply, 'boring day'. In my early 30's, I learned about journals and filled notebook after notebook, going into much more detail about my thoughts and feelings. Now, I've gone back to writing in a diary. There's something comforting (and very simple) about keeping track of what I do each day. Not only can I look back on the week's activities; I can check in with myself to see if I engaged in those activities with awareness.
Another moment has arrived: my fingers are clicking away at the computer. Ice cubes in my glass of iced coffee are getting smaller and smaller, and the quail is calling to his mate. Right this minute, I'm living my life the way I intend - without a worry in the world.
(c) Sally Z McBain
Adapted from my former blog, Sojourn
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