Listening Changes Everything

Pain is the way bodies speak.  This is not new information for anyone who has a body.  Yet, how often do you listen to your body openly, allowing pain to be a message, a communication?  How, in fact, do you listen? Do you listen for something, while at the same time expecting, hoping, wishing or projecting what that something will be? Do you listen by tuning in to your own internal experience or by tuning in to the sounds, sights or sensations provided by your world at the moment?  A critical difference I’d say.

When you tune in internally, you probably hear lot of thought commentary, body sensations and  some feelings such as “I like this,” “I don’t like this” or “I don’t care about this.” When you tune in externally you might hear, see, smell, taste or intuit something.  Both channels matter.  It is important to know what is happening inside you and important to glean the messages from the world around you.  Then, you can choose which of the many messages that are being provided is most important to heed at a given time. 

The problem that most often arises when pain is providing the message is that frequently you wish to kill the messenger rather than heed the message. Something really interesting happens however, when rather than attempting to kill the messenger, you tune in.  Tuning in inwardly eases the pain of the message immediately by attuning you to yourself, aligning you with your own knowing, right away reducing tension in your body.  When you tune in to the pain in your knee, you will automatically take pressure off of it, automatically change your position.  You will experience relief. 

In contrast, when you refuse to hear the pain message, you will instead experience even greater tension and you won’t know how to respond effectively.  Even more problematically, when you refuse to hear the message, you will likely miss vital parts of the whole message.  When you move away from the very pointed message of pain (pun intended!) you become separated from the power of your own knowing that is contained in the very pain you experience.  Avoiding pain in your body by refusing to hear the message has impact over time.  Your body will continue to try to speak with you, increasing the volume, the frequency and the intensity of the message each time it isn’t heard. 

Alternatively, once you tune in, hear the message, there isn’t a need for the volume to increase.  And even more exciting, once you tune in internally, hear the message, you will be free to address the other channels, free to hear the world around you, bringing you all kinds of interesting information and opportunity.  The mix of information and the timing of your well-placed listening can become a magnificent symphony created by your body playing in harmony with your world.  Listening changes everything.

The Gravity of the Situation

The other morning, I looked up from my cocoa pot on the stove, saw the trees in their yellow, half-naked state and suddenly felt sad.  I moved to the kitchen table and sat down. This time of year, I find that sadness is a kind of background, a kind of lurking, not quite acknowledged sense of something.  I can’t always name a particular focus for this kind of sadness, but I know the feeling.
 

Sunlight and I

Lie motionless

Gravity moves my blood.
 

I like to orient myself to the cycles of the year, the seasons, the movement of light and dark.  It has always made an organic sense to me to orient to the larger world in this way. But the wisdom of this kind of orientation has a long history.  Some of the oldest writings on this topic come from the ancient texts on Chinese medicine. In these texts they say quite plainly that if one wishes to remain healthy, they would do well to align themselves with the seasons, to do as the world around them does in each season.
 

In this season, things are moving to ground.  Leaves are falling, light is diminishing. Things are preparing for stillness.  What are the ways we can prepare for stillness? How can we use the powerful energy of this season to support us?  Especially, now, this holiday season about to begin, it seems critical to keep contact with ways we can nurture this special kind of energy.  Our culture really doesn’t recognize these changes in the tempo and temperament of the year. We are still expected to work regular hours, carry on with social engagements and eat salad, despite the lack of light, the quiet, slowed-down energy and the cold.

As our days become shorter your body will probably want to sleep more, eat more, rest more and slow down.  Generally, your body will prefer warm well-cooked foods and warm drinks. You may feel less like going out after dark and prefer reading or quiet conversation to music venues or sports.  To support your sleep as the light changes, you can turn off overhead lights and refrain from computers, phones and T.V. screens after dark.
 

In a way, sadness makes it possible to let ourselves do all of these things.  When we feel sad, we naturally slow down. When we feel sad, we look for blankets, bathtubs and warm cocoa. Too often we reject sadness, refuse to come down from the spinning in our minds into the weight of our own bodies.  Sadness, however, can be how I touch reality, come home to my own knowing, get real with myself, see how things actually are rather than how I wish they were. Around me everything looks gray, yellow, melancholy even. And soft, at home, quiet. This is good.

The inspiration for this post’s title…

What If You Let the World Shape You?

What if you let the world shape you?

What if you let the light land on you?

Let the wind move you?

With all due respect,

the Buddha said “make of yourself a light,”

but I say, make of yourself an altar,

let the light land on you

enter you

and shine from there.

What if each moment, each sunlight strike

became a candle, a beacon, a signal

that you were ready,

more than ready,

you were lit, on fire, burning

with desire?

What if you let the world shape you,

take you into her arms,

dance with you,

sing with you,

cry with you

laugh with you

hurt with you?

What if every stone inside you

were worn to sand

by the force of water,

of tears,

of every last resistance?

Today, the light of autumn

is like glass,

bright, molded by fire,

translucent, apparent,

solid, yet see through.

Like you.

What if you let the world shape you?

What would you do?