Category: alchemy

Indra’s Web — a pearl of an idea about the alchemy of change

On By MaryIn alchemy, cosmology2 Comments

All too often when we think about working for social change, working for social justice and human rights, we are confronted with the disillusioning question, “what difference will this make?”

There are a number of relevant responses to the opening sentence. First, thinking too much can cause problems. The alchemy of social change for justice is in fact grounded in action.  There is a place for thought and analysis for sure, but thought and analysis need to be balanced with compassion (and care) and action.  Maybe one of the most poignant responses to the temptation to disillusionment fostered by the question “what difference will this make?” is the quote attributed to the Dalai Lama: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”  Size doesn’t matter at much as dedicated intention! And, of course there is the butterfly effect of chaos theory which posits that a small change at one place (in a non linear system) can result in large differences in a larger state. The butterfly effect is wonderfully consistent with alchemical transformation! And, then there is the story (you knew there had to be a story coming at some point!) of Indra’s web.

In Hindu mythology, Indra is a warrior god, the king of the gods, who is credited with saving the world from the cosmic serpent. Indra is also credited with weaving a web that extends throughout all of space and time. It is said that when Indra created the world he wove it as a web, and at each of the points where the lines of the web cross, Indra tied a knot and in each knot he placed a radiant jewel. Some say the jewel is a pearl, some say it is a perfect crystal, today we might say the jewel is a holograph.

Everything that has existed, that exists now and that ever will exist, each and every idea, each bit of creation, each sentient being, all are jewels in Indra’s web. Each jewel is tied to every other jewel in Indra’s web, each is reflected in every other jewel, each is implied in every other jewel. Each jewel reflects and contains every other jewel in this cosmic matrix, so that each jewel is intrinsically and intimately connected to every other jewel – a change in one is reflected in all the others, in every other. (you might want to pause here and think about the range of meanings of ‘reflected in’). 

Alan Watts tells the story this way: “Imagine a multidimensional spider’s web in the early morning covered with dew drops. And every dew drop contains the reflection of all the other dew drops. And, in each reflected dew drop, the reflections of all the other dew drops in that reflection. And so on, ad infinitum. That is the Buddhist conception of the universe in an image.”

Every jewel represents an individual life form, atom, cell or unit of consciousness. Each and every jewel highlights the interdependence of all beings, of all of creation. And, because everything is interdependent, nothing is small, trivial, or inconsequential. 

One moral to take from Indra’s web is that you cannot damage one strand of the web that is the universe without damaging the others or setting off a cascade effect of destruction. And by the same token the interdependence of all highlights that the compassionate and the constructive interventions a person makes or does can also produce a ripple effect of beneficial action.  Action, dedicated intention, the butter fly effect and Indra’s web – all reflecting the interdependence of all life, we are all inter-dependent on each other, it ALL matters. (so, I guess the hokey pokey is NOT what it’s all about, or is it?)

The metaphor of Indra’s Jeweled web is Attributed to an ancient Buddhist named Tu-Shun (557-640 A.D.). Fritjof Capra refers to it in Tao of physics: an exploration of the parallels between modern physics and Eastern mysticism, as does Douglas Hofstadter in Gödel, Escher, Bach; andTimothy Brook in Vermeer’s Hat.

Any thoughts about Indra’s web and our places in it? Your place in it? We are our brothers/sisters keepers … we are reflections of each other … whatever happens to anyone of us happens to all of us … in Bantu, ‘ubuntu’ — I am because you are … and the circle, which is a web, goes one …

When to be practical

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, spiritual growth, stories for social changeLeave a comment

When to be Practical – A somewhat revised version of a Sufi Story by Mohammed Gwath Shattari 

 The good Sisters of Mary Magdalene were grieving the loss of Sister Visentia. Some of the sisters found themselves holding Sister Septimus culpable – for leaving Sister Visentia on her own with the bear chasing her, for not marshalling a search party of the other sisters sooner, and just because they just really liked Sister Visentia better (although none of the good sisters would admit this last reason). To help them deal with their grief and to heal their relationships, Sisters Bryda, Ludwika and Septimus decided to set off on a retreat together. For their retreat, they elected to hike the Appalachian Trail.  As they hiked the trail, the good Sisters discussed the importance of putting into practice everything they had learned in the cloister, and they committed themselves to helping each other sink their roots more deeply into a spiritual life of social justice.

Together the good sisters discussed the nuances of love and compassion, they talked about the golden rule, the platinum rule, about the importance of self love as a foundation for loving others well. They found themselves talking about Sister Visentia, her embodiment of all they cherished in the rule of Mary Magdalene. They found themselves chuckling at some of Sister Visentia’s odd little habits – the way she would poke out her lower lip when she was thinking and when she was pouting or sulking a bit. And the laugher helped to ease their loss. They walked and talked, and soon they we so engrossed in their thoughts and conversation that it was quite late at night when they realized that all they had with them was one piece of somewhat stale, hard bread.  And they concurrently realized that they were well along the most remote portion of the Appalachian Trail where they were not likely to encounter others and they would not come to a town for a few days more journey.

But, all in all the day had been a sweet one, and so the Sisters decided not to discuss who most should/would eat the bread; since they were pious women, they decided to leave the decision in the hands of the Mary Magdalene to patron saint of their order. They prayed that during the night their patron would inspire them with the wisdom to know who should eat the bread.

The following morning, the three women rose together at sunrise.

“This is my dream,” said the Sister Ludwika. “I was taken to places I had never visited before, and enjoyed the sort of peace and harmony I have sought in vain during my entire life on earth. In the midst of this paradise, our mother, Mary Magdalene said to me: “you are my chosen servant, you never sought pleasure, always renounced all things of this world. This hard, dry bread holds with the path you have chosen, and I choose you to partake of its sustenance.”

“That’s very strange,” said the Sister Bryda. “For in my dream, I saw my past of service and devotion to the sisters, to our order and to our patron Mary Magdalene. Our Patron spoke to me and affirmed my future role within our cloister. As I gazed at that which is to come, I heard our mother Mary Magdalene, saying: “You are in great need of food for I have called you to works of service that will require strength and energy.”

Then Sister Septimus said:”In my dream I saw nothing, went nowhere, and found no wise women. However, at a certain hour during the night, I suddenly woke up and was overcome with hunger. So I ate the bread.”

The other two were furious:”And why didn’t you wake us up and consult with us before making such a vital decision that effects us all!?”

“How could I?” Said Sister Septimus, “You were both so far away, talking with our mother, Mary Magdalene, and having such holy visions! Yesterday we discussed the importance of putting into practice all that we learn in the cloister. In my case, God acted quickly, and had me awake dying of hunger!”

 This story illustrates the need to nurture ourselves, and the importance and place of self care, as well as the dilemma of balancing self care and caring for others, and the ability to laugh at ourselves and with others.

boil frogs and your goose is cooked

On By MaryIn alchemy, human rights, KoanLeave a comment

There is a well worn story about boiling frogs. The story goes that if you put a frog in a pot of cold water, and put the pot of water on a stovetop where you gradually – very, very  gradually – increase the temperature of the water right up to boiling, the frog will stay in the water and will be cooked to death, even though there is no lid on the pot and it could easily jump out. 

That is a very short story. It is a pretty sad and kind of depressing story if you ask me.  I thought about dressing it up and fleshing it out to present here. I thought about making it an interaction between a science teacher and a little girl. They would each have interesting names. It would be a science experiment. But then I couldn’t get past the cruelty to the frog if I made it real. So, I will leave it firmly in the realm of the apocryphal.

And, yet I find myself revisiting the story and thinking, even meditating on it more and more, not unlike a contemporary, middle American koan. 

I am the frog. You are the frog. We are all the frog.

Daily stresses are the increase in temperature. My life, your life, all of our lives are becoming ever more stressful. The pot is near to boiling. Will we stay in the pot? To mix metaphors just a bit, are we all well cooked gooses or is there yet time to jump out? But where would we jump to? Out of the pot and into the fire?

Ah, but if this is a koan, that is a bit too easy, too simple. Yes, the warming water is stress, but it is more than that. The pot and the water are our environment, the society and social institutions which structure the environment within which we live. The ever increasing heat, ah that is structural violence! Direct violence harms directly. It is overt and acute and visible. But, structural violence kills indirectly and slowly, curtailing life spans by depriving people of material and non-material resources. Structural violence is commonplace and impersonal, like the subtly and perniciously ever increasing heat in the frog’s pot, is a chronic threat nearly invisible to wellbeing.

My mother was recently taken to the emergency room of her local hospital. My mother is 87 years old and has Parkinson’s disease. She needs to be on a complex regimen of medications. She spent over 12 hours in the emergency room before she was admitted to a regular hospital room. The well meaning nurses refused to give her any of her medications. In the emergency room they gave her a little food. On the floor in her room, they would not give her food or medication until after they had completed all of their forms and questions, and then we had to wait for the on call doctor to order her meds and for the pharmacy to send them up to the floor. The systems of the hospital are created and maintained for the convenience of the doctors and nurses. The systems of the hospital are not designed for the care and well being of the basic needs of the patients.  That is a simple example of structural violence. Neglecting the need for food and medication of patients who are ill is wrong, and it is the norm.

Structural violence is built into the fabric of political and economic structures of society; it is built into our social institutions to create subtly harmful conditions that become ‘the way things are’.  It is the subtle heat that harms by depriving individuals and groups of access to basic needs: social domination, political oppression, economic exploitation. Structural violence and asymmetries of power generate a kind of quiet brutality that gives birth to the banality of evil.

If we are to not be frogs in the pot, we need to be aware and act to challenge and change how and where the pathologies of power take their toll. Whose needs are served by the rules that structure and guide patterns of social interaction in our hospitals, our schools, our churches, our businesses, social services, government agencies?  Structural violence and pathologies of power take their toll by creating conditions that deplete and deprive each of us of the potential for well being. The increasing heat is the lack of access to basic capabilities. According to Martha Nussbaum, basic human capabilities include life; bodily health and integrity; clarity, awareness, and the ability to express our senses, imagination, thought, and emotions; practical reason; affiliation; the social bases of self-respect and nonhumiliation; play; respect for other species; control over one’s social environment; and respect for the physical environment. We all have a right to each and every one of these basic capabilities simply because we are human beings; simply because we are sentient beings. Each of these basic capabilities is fundamental to living lives of dignity.

Look at our world, look at your world. Persistently throughout the course of our lives, throughout the course of each day in a myriad of ways, we are denied access and enjoyment of these basic capabilities.  And we are told that this is normal, that this is the way that things are, the way they must be for the efficient and effective functioning of our hospitals, our schools, our churches, our businesses, social services, government agencies – of our society.  If we continue to buy that line, then we are indeed all frogs in the pot, we will indeed be gooses who are quite cooked.

Rather, we need to learn to cherish ourselves and each other. We need to respect ourselves and each other, and we need to honor each other’s basic dignity as human beings. We need to become our own best friend, even as we develop the attitude and practice of befriending each other, even as we become ever more awake and aware.

Life and death are grave matters.

All things pass quickly away

Each of us must be completely alert:

Never neglectful, never indulgent.

This is a Zen saying, the evening message at many Zen sangha’s (communities), may we honor it well, with deep thought and compassionate action.

A Fence or an Ambulance

On By MaryIn alchemy, social justice, stories for social change2 Comments

Last week I posted my version of the Allegory of the River. Any time I think about that story, I find myself thinking about the poem about the ambulance and the fence as well.  You can find the poem all over the internet. It is attributed to Joseph Malins (1844-1926), who was a temperance activist in Massachusetts and in England. Malins is believed to have written this poem in 1895.

A Fence or an Ambulance

Joseph Malins (1895)

– a poem about prevention –

 

‘Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,

Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant;

But over its terrible edge there had slipped

A duke and full many a peasant.

 So the people said something would have to be done,

But their projects did not at all tally;

Some said, “Put a fence ’round the edge of the cliff,”

Some, “An ambulance down in the valley.”

 

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,

For it spread through the neighboring city;

A fence may be useful or not, it is true,

But each heart became full of pity

For those who slipped over the dangerous cliff;

And the dwellers in highway and alley

Gave pounds and gave pence, not to put up a fence,

But an ambulance down in the valley.

 

“For the cliff is all right, if your careful,” they said,

“And, if folks even slip and are dropping,

It isn’t the slipping that hurts them so much

As the shock down below when they’re stopping.”

So day after day, as these mishaps occurred,

Quick forth would those rescuers sally

To pick up the victims who fell off the cliff,

With their ambulance down in the valley.

 

Then an old sage remarked: “It’s a marvel to me

That people give far more attention

To repairing results than to stopping the cause,

When they’d much better aim at prevention.

Let us stop at its source all this mischief,” cried he,

“Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally;

If the cliff we will fence, we might almost dispense

With the ambulance down in the valley.”

 

“Oh he’s a fanatic,” the others rejoined,

“Dispense with the ambulance? Never!

He’d dispense with all charities, too, if he could;

No! No! We’ll support them forever.

Aren’t we picking up folks just as fast as they fall?

And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he?

Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence,

While the ambulance works in the valley?”

 

But the sensible few, who are practical too,

Will not bear with such nonsense much longer;

They believe that prevention is better than cure,

And their party will soon be the stronger.

Encourage them then, with your purse, voice, and pen,

And while other philanthropists dally,

They will scorn all pretense, and put up a stout fence

On the cliff that hangs over the valley.

 

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,

For the voice of true wisdom is calling.

“To rescue the fallen is good, but ’tis best

To prevent other people from falling.”

Better close up the source of temptation and crime

Than deliver from dungeon or galley;

Better put a strong fence ’round the top of the cliff

Than an ambulance down in the valley.

 

So, the poem argues strongly for putting a fence around the top of the cliff. I’m a feminist, and I guess a bit of a pragmatist. In my mind there is no fence strong enough to keep everyone away from the edge of the cliff. Prevention is important for sure — it is absolutely necessary!  And, I am a feminist. So, for me it is always both/and. Yes the fence! and Yes the ambulance as well — because some revolutionary anarchist is going to see that fence and take it as a challenge, as a boundary that must be broken — and who will then slip and slide down that slippery slope.  So, fence and ambulance both for me!

 

what’s your vote? thought? reaction??

 

An Allegory about Rescuing the Children in the Raritan River

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, social justice, stories for social change1 Comment

 Sister Septimus had been out walking with Sister Visentia in the woodlands surrounding their cloister, the convent of the good sisters of Mary Magdalene. When Sister Septimus came back into the cloister alone, a search party was organized to look for sister Visentia. Two of the sisters in the search party, Sisters Bryda and Ludwika soon found themselves walking along the banks of the Raritan River as they searched for Sister Visentia. 

The day before all of this there had been torrential rains across all of Hunterdon County, so the river was much higher than usual. This day the typically serene South Branch of the Raritan was swollen to the tops of its banks, the waters were thundering by and all in all the river looked unusually treacherous! As they peered over the banks of the river hoping that they would not see Sister Visentia in such a dangerous location, to their shock and horror, they saw a toddler bobbing in the river thrashing and struggling to keep her head above water.

Sister Bryda immediately slipped out of her cowl, scapular and tunic and dove into the river. She reached the young girl just as the child was about to go under for the third time and handed her out to Sister Ludwika. Ludwika wrapped the child in Sister Bryda’s scapular to cover her and warm her, and was ready to help Sister Bryda out of the water when they both saw another child up river a bit, and struggling. So, Sister Bryda swam up to the child, caught him and handed him up to Sister Ludwika.

Again just a Bryda was about to ask Sister Ludwika for a hand to get herself out of the river, they both hear a pair of children calling for help. Of course Bryda could not let them drown, so back into the cold, torrential river she swam. It was feeling to her that the water was getting progressively colder, and the current faster and deeper. But, these were young children, she just could not let any harm come to them.  So back after them she went.

And, yes, just as she was handing the last child to Sister Ludwika, Ludwika pointed upstream again – more children!  Sister Ludwika was horrified, and she could see that Sister Bryda was near exhaustion. So, Ludwika quickly helped Bryda out of the water and jumped in herself to continue the rescue operation. This went on for a while, and now both Sisters were passed exhaustion and barely able to move.

Sister Ludwika crawled out of the river, and rasped to Sister Bryda, “Someone must be throwing children into the river! I’ve got to go and stop them.”

“But, Ludwika, you can’t leave me here alone. It is taking both of us to get these children out of the water. We can’t just let them drown, and I can’t do this alone.” Sister Bryda gasped.

“Bryda, if I don’t stop whoever is throwing these children into the water, we will both be too exhausted to be any good to anyone.” countered Ludwika. And, with that she turned her back on Bryda and the toddlers, and started to walk upstream to find out who was throwing the children in the river, and to stop them.  It was one of the hardest decisions Ludwika had ever made.

Sister Ludwika’s intention was prevention, but her action looked (and felt) like abandonment. Efforts for change are risky. The outcomes are rarely clear and certain. To those doing the more immediate work of addressing and repairing the harms caused by injustices, energy and resources committed to long term goals can feel like a depletion of much needed emergency resources. To those committed to longer term social change strategies targeting social change to bring about the alchemy of social justice, emergency triage work can feel short sighted. Truth be told, both are necessary. We need to heal the wounds of injustice – we need to pull the children from the river. We need to contain the consequences of injustice – we need to ensure that the children we pull from the river are loved and fed and we need to see that they don’t catch pneumonia. And, we need to build a world where fairness and respect for human dignity are the norm – we need to prevent more children from being thrown into the river. And all of that takes a village.

(versions of this story are common among community organizers. some folks attirbute early renditions of it to Saul Alinsky.)

A family of bears, a pack of coyote and the strawberry: delight in the present moment

On By MaryIn alchemy, Cloister of the Sisters of Mary Magdalene, spiritual growthLeave a comment

Parts of New Jersey really do justify its label as the ‘garden state’. Out in Hunterdon County where I live, there are still acres and acres of farms and forests. And, increasingly there have been sightings of black bears. For the most part, bears will retreat at loud noises. So, if you are walking in the woods and you carry bells with you, you should be safe. A major exception to this is if the bear is a mother bear with young cubs. Then all bets are off, and the mother will defend her cubs from anything she perceives as a remotely possible threat – and that includes any human silly enough to be in her line of sight or her range of smell. Be forewarned.

Those of you who have been regularly following justalchemy stories will remember the cloistered convent of the good sisters of Saint Mary Magdalene which is tucked in a corner of  rural Hunterdon County. Well, one day two of the good sisters were out for a walk along a forest trail near the convent and they came across a mother bear and two of her cubs.  The sisters both saw the bear family at the same time, and together they broke their vow of silence and whispered to each other, “RUN!”

As you read this, you may find yourself wondering how fast you have to run to outdistance a bear? Common wisdom says, just a bit faster than the other person with you.

And, so Sister Septimus fairly quickly outdistanced Sister Visentia and made it safely back to the doors of the cloister.

Sister Visentia was a bit more Rubenesque than Sister Septimus, and so she lagged behind in the sprint for safety. Soon enough she found herself on the edge of a cliff overlooking a quarry. Just as she was about to despair, Sister Visentia notice a honeysuckle vine draped over the edge. She very quickly wrapped the vine around her arm and leg and lowered herself over the edge of the cliff. And just in time too as the mother bear was in close pursuit!  

There she was dangling precariously over the edge, calculating how long the vine is and how deep the cliff was when Sister Visentia heard a coyote pack snarling below her. As she lifted her eyes to the heavens and began to take some calming breaths, Sister remembered her mantra and meditation practices. Just then Sister Visentia also noticed the mice who were gnawing at the vine that was suspending her between the bear and the coyotes. She deeply inhaled and exhaled. She looked to her left and noticed a wild strawberry plant with a deep red berry on it. Reaching out with her left hand, she plucked it, tasted it, and her last thought was a prayer of gratitude and appreciation for the wonderful sweetness of the delicious strawberry.

Viktor Frankl reminds us that there is always hope if we are but open to noticing it. Remember to celebrate the joy and delight of the present moment!

the dancing centipede and the jealous tortoise

On By MaryIn alchemy, growth into humanity6 Comments

 Once in another time and place, there was a centipede named Ghawazhee who was amazingly good at dancing – dancing with all of her one hundred legs. All the creatures of the forest gathered to watch every time the Ghawazhee danced, and they were all delighted and impressed by the grace, poise, and elegance of her movements. But there was one creature that didn’t like watching Ghawazhee the centipede dance – that was Armaya the tortoise. Armaya was incredibly envious of Ghawazhee’s skill and of the admiration that she received from others.

The more Armaya thought about it, the more he wanted to get Ghawazhee to stop dancing. But, he could not just say he didn’t like her dancing. And he couldn’t challenge her, because she was a far, far better dancer than he would ever be.  So, he devised a plan.

Armaya sat down and wrote a letter to Ghawazhee. He pretended to be an admirer who wanted to learn from her. He wrote: “Oh, great and incomparable Ghawazhee, I am a devoted admirer of your unparalleled dancing. I would be ever grateful if you would help me to understand how you proceed when you dance. Is it that you first lift your left leg number 9 and then your right leg number 18? Or do you begin by first moving your left leg number 3 and then your right leg number 6 followed by your left leg number 13? I await your answer in breathless anticipation. Yours truly, Armaya the tortoise.”

When Ghawazhee the centipede read the letter, she immediately began to think about what  she actually did when she danced. Which leg did she lift first? And which leg next? And you KNOW what happened!

Ghawazhee never danced again! Her imagination and intuition became strangled by her deliberation and analysis.  She lost her connection to what Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls flow.

There are so many lessons in this story – about jealousy, about self confidence, about interpersonal influence, about so many things personal and interpersonal.

Respect is the foundation of healthy relationships, we need to honor and cherish each other’s skills, abilities and differences. And balance is the foundation of human flourishing; we need to hone imagination and deliberation, intuition and analysis if creativity is going to flourish!

What else do you read into or take from the story? come on, share a little?

 This story come to you from Jostein Gaarder’s novel, “Sophie’s World: a novel about the history of philosophy”

are you a carrot, and egg, or a coffee bean?

On By MaryIn alchemy, growth into humanity1 Comment

Once upon a time, there was a young girl who lived in Holland Township in New Jersey. This is a very special part of New Jersey that still has the gardens and farms that once made New Jersey the garden state. It is also a part of the world where mothers and daughters talk to each other about matters that are important to them. And they listen to each other as they think things through.

One day young Murina was feeling very sad and frustrate with life. Things were not going so well at school, her friends were not very friendly, and her favorite, most loved pet was ill, her flowers were not growing. Life was just not going her way. She told her mother all of this and said she just didn’t know how she could go on! Every time she thought she had one problem figured out, a new one sprouted up worse than the weeds in their garden. Life was just too much for her.

Well, Murina’s mother was a thoughtful kind of woman who like to help her daughter to think things through by showing her something to think about. So Mama Ideslef gave Murina a hug, and invited her into the kitchen. There, Mama filled three pots with water, and set each of them on the stove with each burner set to high heat. She brought them to a rolling boil (covered  of course to conserve energy). In one pot she put some carrots that she had just harvested from the garden; in the second she place some eggs that Murina had just gathered from the hens; and in the third she place some coffee beans that Papa had just brought home from the Homestead General Store in Upper Black Eddy – fresh roasted and fair trade! They let each pot cook for about 20 minutes.  Both Mama and Murina stood near the stove so that the steam from the boiling pots just caressed their faces – after all, a bit of steam is good for the complexion! Together mother and daughter stood and steamed in silence. It was a nice moment.

Then she turned off the burners, and scooped out the carrots and placed them on a plate, fished out the eggs and put them in a shallow blow, and then ladled out the coffee and put some into two cups.

Mama Ideslef turned to Murina and asked her, “Murina, have a look. what do you see here?”

“Oh, Mama, you know, carrots, eggs and coffee,” she replied.

“Good, Darling. Now what can you tell me about the carrots?”

“Well, they are pretty soft.” Murina said.

“Exactly. Now, let’s have a closer look at the egg. Why don’t you break it open, and tell me what you notice.”

Murina did, she peeled off the shell, and she describe a hard-boiled egg to her mother.

Then, Mama Ideslef asked Murina to have a taste of the coffee. This Murina did with great joy, delighting in the rich flavor of the coffee.

“But, Mama, what is all of this about? Other than distracting me, what does this have to do with my sadness?”

Mama Ideslef’s smiled, and explained that the carrot, the egg and the coffee had each faced the same adversity, the boiling water. But each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

“Which will you become, Murina?” Mama Ideslef asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”

Think of this: Which am I?

Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do I wilt and become soft and lose my strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but, on the inside, am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When your frustration and trials are their greatest,  how do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

In the beginning was the hearing

On By MaryIn alchemy, growth into humanity, social justiceLeave a comment

In the beginning was the hearing.  In the beginning there were consciousness raising groups.  Over time small groups of women came together to tell each other our own stories.

Sooner or later, one woman would begin. Often the beginnings were hesitant and awkward. We were trying to put the pieces of our lives together. We were trying to find and claim shreds and shards and work the chaos into a collage with coherence.

One day a woman came to the group. She sat quietly listening and waiting.  Finally she said: “I hurt … I hurt all over.”  She paused and sat in silence for a moment, and one of us simply said, “Tell us what that is like for you.” She touched herself in various places as if feeling for the hurt before she added “but I don’t know where to begin to cry.” And then she began to tell us her life. She talked on and on. One story, one memory led to another memory and experience. “I remember waking up alone, hungry, no place to go – I must have been too young for school, no mama, no food. I was cold. I was always cold. It was always cold. School was cold. Too afraid to have friends, but they fed us there. They laughed at me there. They call them bullies now I think. I just remember the hurtin’ they put on me. Every day someone was puttin’ a hurting on me some kind of way. Then I met him, he said he would protect me, take care of me. He was nice – for a while. But then he started in on me. It was worse with him. He would beat me, and tie me down and have his way with me…”  When she reached a point of excruciating pain no one moved. No one interrupted. Finally she finished. After a silence, she looked from one woman to another. “You heard me. You heard me all the way. You heard me all the way to here, to freedom. You heard me into my own skin. You heard me to life. ” Her eyes narrowed. She looked directly at each woman in turn and then said slowly: “I have a strange feeling you heard me before I started. You hear me to my own story.”  

Our truth is found in our stories, our truth is found through our stories.

Listening  to and hearing, really hearing each other is not an easy task. Those who have been abused, oppressed or discriminated against in any meaningful kind of way (and any abuse, oppression or discrimination is meaningful to the recipient of those kinds of acts), those people are often without hope and are mysteriously quiet.  When change is inconceivable, there can be no words to articulate discontent. We can only hear silence in the very moment when it is breaking.  And so, hearing each other is an essential responsibility, calling and task. Consider the image of hearing into speech, hearing into being.  This is a kind of hearing that take place before speech is articulated; it is a hearing more acute than mere listening. Hearing into speech, hearing into being is a hearing engaged in by the whole body. It is a hearing that evokes speech, a new speech, a new creation.  Hearing into speech, hearing into being dares not interrupt, but deepens when the telling halts or the pain becomes intense.  Hearing into speech, hearing into being walks alongside the teller through her agony, and stays with her until it breaks from the inside and she touches her real self – all of her real self.

This story is inspired by the narratives in Nele Morton’s “The Journey is Home”

Mila Repa the Eagle Tower Caves of the Red Rock Jewel Valley

On By MaryIn alchemy, love, mysticism, spiritual growthLeave a comment

Mila Repa was a great Tibetan Buddhist yogi.  But, before he became a yogi, Mila Repa was a bit of a scoundrel. I mention that only to highlight that indeed change is possible – if you are committed to it and work at it.  So this story is known as the tale of Mila Repa in the Eagle Tower Caves of the Red Rock Jewel Valley. 

 Mila Repa had been studying with his guru Marpa for a number of years, working to overcome the negative karma that he had accumulated during his years as a scoundrel.  Our Mila Repa was not yet the most patient man, and so he was not satisfied with the pace of his progress. Eventually Mila Repa convinced Marpa that he should go off to the caves to pray and meditate in solitude, to get away from the distractions of day to day life. Marpa merely smiled a Mila Repa’s insistence, and finally gave his blessing to his student’s insistence.

 One day, after Mila Repa had been living in the caves for some time he went out to collect firewood from the valley just below his cave. While he was out, a serious strom blew up. The wind was fierce, and as quickly a Mila Repa could pick up wood, the wind blew it out of his arms. The wind whipped his robes around and promised to tear off even that bit of protection.  As his frustration grew, Mila Repa remember the Buddhist injunction to be free of ego and attachments. And he chastised himself, saying something like, “What is the point of my great devotions and solitary practice if I cannot manage to control my own ego! Let the wind take my robes away if it wants to.”  And, just as he became aware of that thought, he fainted from the exertion and the struggle. When he came to, he observed that the storm had blown itself out, and he saw his tattered robe tangled in the branches of a nearby scrub tree.

 Necessity being necessity, Mila Repa gathered up his robes, put them on, got himself back together, and gathered up the firewood that he had set out for. After a bit more work, he got himself and the wood back to his cave.  When  he arrived at the cave, he was surprised to find that his cave had been invaded and taken over by five of the ugliest, most ferocious looking demons that he had ever seen. They were huge, smelly, drooling with large fangs and claws. Mila Repa was shocked to see them in his peaceful dwelling space. But, he had his own history of villainy, so, undaunted he introduced himself to the demons and asked them to leave. The demons took this to be impudent effrontery, and became menacing. They destroyed his food stores, they ripped up his books of prayers and scriptures, and generally wrecked havoc in the cave. Then they surrounded Mila Repa, growling and taunting him maliciously. The demons made it clear that they were serious in their malevolence. Now, Mila Repa was alarmed and afraid. This was no mere halucination. He was in mortal danger.

 Seeing their growing hostility, Mila Repa thought about his options. He thought about his years as a villan, and rejected violence as a possible response. He reaffirmed his committment to his Buddhist vows. He recited prayers of exorcism, with no effect. He preached Buddhism to them, he chanted Buddhist prayers and teachings to them, he told them of great acts of compassion from the history of Buddhism.  All of this to no avail. Indeed, all of this had the opposite effect, only increasing their hostility toward him.

Despairation was descending on Mila Repa. He thought about all he knew. He thought about his years of study of Buddhism, he remembered that our experience and interpretation of reality is but a projection of our own mind. He remembered that all of our experiences are but teachers, intended to open our heart to greater awareness and love. … Mila Repa laughed out loud as he realized how romantic and lofty he always thought those teachings sounded. And now, his life seemed to hang on his ability to put those teachings into practice. Mila Repa remembered all that he had learned about love and now understood it with a new fearlessness. He welcomed the demons into his home and his life. He invited them to talk and eat and play together. He listened to them, even as he challenged them to listen to him. They engaged in a dialogue. He listened and learned — not to their taunts as they presented them, but to the meanings of those taunts within the context of awareness, love and enlightenment. And Mila Repa’s understanding and practice grew deeper and more refined. The demons did not leave – they never leave. But, Mila Repa’s relationship to them was transformed. They became his greatest teachers. Crisis is both danger and opportunity.