This is my first post on this blog and I’m excited to get started. I hope those of you on the path toward a bigger self will join me on this part of your journey, share your own insights, challenges and inner growth. I think the best way to start is by way of a personal story–a breakthrough and certainly one of a number of defining moments in my life. By defining moment I mean something out of the ordinary in terms of my state of consciousness which taught me something and has helped me to understand myself in a deeper way.
Here’s how I described an experience that happened to me about 25 years ago:
Being Moved Tacoma, Wa. Summer, 1985
It’s Saturday, and my wife is working overtime at the mail service store she opened a few years earlier. I am now the main caretaker for our two boys, Malcolm, five, and David, four. I’ve almost gotten over my resentment at her prolonged absences, and find great joy in spending so much time with my boys whom I love more than I can put into words.
I’m in the kitchen making food, standing at the window that looks over a line of birch trees and the driveway we share with our neighbors. Malcolm and David show that serious appearance only children can have when deeply absorbed in play. I follow them walking up the drive, one behind the other. I notice their purposeful strides and instantly perceive the mature man in their movements. A wave of nostalgia rises in my body as I realize one day they will no longer be my little boys, but men of their own.
I start on the tabouli salad and soak the bulgur wheat in water. I pull out the Henckles knife to cut the tomatoes, and admire the strong, hefty feel of this magnificent instrument. Next come the green onions which I first wash and then bunch up after cutting off the ends. I chop carefully and make deliberate movements to slice tiny sections. My hands move slowly.
Then I notice the movements of my arms, as I lift the knife, bring it up and come down again. I feel like I’m in a dream, because I have this distinct sense that I am not doing the moving.
I am being moved.
Careful not to disturb this most exquisite moment, I gently explore with my consciousness the boundary between this moving body and the “other” energy presence outside of me. I give myself over to the “other” and sense my body being held up not by my own will, but by something bigger. My skin begins to feel more permeable, thinning and merging with the larger energy envelope. I am floating in an ocean of energy.
I want to preserve this ecstasy, this promise of what life can be like in a state of grace-“…the God in whom we live, and move and move and have our being,” as the Apostle Paul explains. I move purposefully downstairs as the boys have now come inside and are watching TV.
I move into their play space aware of the grace-filled movements of my head, hands and legs as I sit down next to them. I suggest they turn off the TV. “Let’s talk about what we want to do today,” flows out of my mouth. There’s the usual suggestions, but none of the sharp edges of difference. I’ll speak and sense the energy rolling from my body along lines of force and see their bodies move to receive. Then they speak and the energy comes back to me again as I feel their words and being inside. I think of Carlos Casteneda when Dan Juan explains to him about energy lines of force connecting all things.
We are moving, dancing together. I feel supreme joy.
Growing numbers of people have these kinds of awakening experiences, characterized often by a felt sense of being dynamically connected to something vast, wonderful and alive that gives our lives meaning. Call it God, the great unity, Christ or Buddha-mind, the One, cosmic consciousness. While all these phrases have their own particular meanings, growing numbers of us are using these terms interchanegably, recognizing that words can’t describe the unknowable and infinite.
The more we experience this spacious presence, the less we identify with a smaller and limiting identity, intuiting instead our fundamental larger, perhaps even cosmic being.
I think we are in a process of awakening to a world, a universe where we know at the soul and cellular level that everything is connected; in fact, that we are the world, the cosmos in particular form. In other words, I am not just “Mike,” this body, mind and life, but I am everything that is, was and will be. Now as I say those words, I honestly don’t live in that realization fully. But I do feel that knowing dawning in me.
With that comes a deep reverence for all that is, and will be in the future. And with that too comes transcendence of the ways of the current world of suffering–the individual pain body; the world of social injustice where a few have much at great cost to the many; the human desecration of the natural world, with disregard for our Earth family; the sense of spiritual malaise, inner hollowness and lack of deep community with others characteristic of a civilization out of balance with the wisdom and rhythms of the cosmos and our own deepest nature.
As the human presence on Earth becomes ever more unsustainable–creating huge disturbances in global systems (climate change)–we are all feeling the pressure to change in a variety of ways, depending on our level of consciousness development, age, culture and general situation in life. Nobody is left out.
So, this is the context for the AwakeningSelf blog. I will be addressing this subject from lots of viewpoints. First, I want to share what this means at the level of personal evolution. We’ll also look at what this means for relationships today–which have been going through their own transition for the last 40+ years. As a father of two boys, I am vitally interested in parenting for the emergence of a new consciousness. As an educator of other educators, I have a big stake in our schools, educational systems and modes of thinking and how those are both falling apart (Every Child Left Behind) or morphing into new life-giving forms.
I want this space to be open to those of you like me who are seekers of truth and are vitally invested in your own and the world’s emergence. Please join me with your own reflections and sharing.
Peace & blessings on this great journey.
Mike
Filed under: Personal Sharing, The Great Awakening, The Path, Waking Up Moments
In the effort of many to strive for sustainability, it seems that this course will give a focus to building and sustaining connections and relationships with others which in order to work towards a greater sense of community. I look forward to the journey.
An experience of mine was recently brought up when some friends visited last week and I’ve been re-living it ever since. I’m an avid cyclist and have commuted to work by bike for nearly 20 years. Along with this at 53 I still do some mountain bike racing. I had just finished a hard race at Schweitzer Mtn. in Sandpoint ID. about five years ago. I was driving from the race down to a friend’s condo at the ski area when I was passed by 2 teenage boys racing each other on long-board skateboards. They zoomed past me and around a horseshoe corner. The second boy missed the exit of the turn and flew off the corner disappearing over a small embankment. My first notion saw that, like most teens he was resilient and probably dusting himself off but this nagging gut feeling lead me to pull off and check on him. I found him curled in a a ball and moaning. He was completely hidden from the road and no one would have seen him. Having guided mountaineering trips many moons ago I had some EMT training and I started checking him out. He was very belligerent and difficult but I tried to be patient. When he missed the curve he had run stomach-first into a phone junction box. I began to get the sense that he was in real trouble and flagged a passing car to get help. A paramedic came down from the ski area and before he even started I simply told him to call an ambulance immediately which he did. I waited until the ambulance arrived then whet on my way. All that night and into the next morning as I stayed by myself in my sister-in-law’s house out in the woods near Bonner’s Ferry, north of Sandpoint I kept thinking about him.
The next day was Sunday and on my way home while driving through Sandpoint I decided I had to stop by the hospital to see if I could get any information on his condition. It was strange and I felt rather foolish as I had no right to that information, not being part of his family. I almost turned around at the door of the deserted small hospital but went on in and up to the desk. I asked if there had been a boy admitted yesterday with an abdominal injury and explained my role. The receptionist got a strange look on her face and said, oh, you’re the guy, you saved his life. He had just eaten a huge typical teenage lunch at the lodge of a burger, fries and a shake. When he hit the pole his stomach ruptured spilling the entire contents of his stomach into his abdomen. I was stunned and she said, this is against policy but do you want me to call his parents up in his room? I said yes and they asked me to come up. I felt exceedingly awkward but headed on up. They were very thankful and we made a bit of small talk then the boy who was awake, though groggy called me over to his bedside. He took my head in his hands, pulled me down and kissed my forehead. It was one of the singular moments in my life. In that moment I knew absolutely that it was not him kissing me but something/someone bigger kissing me through him. In that moment I got a glimpse of something much bigger than him, me or that entire little drama. A cosmic gift. It is one of those events I could never prove empirically but I know without a doubt. I was speechless as were his parents. I left the hospital quickly before I dissolved into tears. even now I write about it with difficulty.
I try to carry that sense with me of a bigger world beyond me but enveloping me and all of us into my daily life.
Over five decades of life, I’ve had a lot of moments when the universe seemed to coalesce around me – I could hear it creaking and feel the breeze from the doorways that opened.
Some of these moments came because of a specific event, like the time I was watching my toddlers run around a swimming pool and the next thing I knew, I was soaking wet and nursing one of them at the poolside. He had fallen in and sank like a stone, but before I had time to notice, I’d already acted. That and similar events have made me feel comfortable in my body and in my ability to navigate the world as an animal – aware and alert, able to respond appropriately without angst. I can’t rely on this feeling of course, since there is always the possibility of something too drastic for me to cope with, but still, there’s an overall sense of trust.
Other such moments came because of an intellectual opening. I remember struggling through a class on Mathematical Analysis, baffled by the dense, unwieldyness of the subject. Late one evening, as I was thrashing around with my homework at my desk in the dorm, something suddenly unfolded. I had the mental image of a peony blooming, its petals bursting from the bud and fluffing out. From that moment, the structure of that particular branch of mathematics seemed crystalline and beautiful. Again, this state of grace is not guaranteed, but I have the sense that if I’d only put in enough mindful effort, it’s there to be found in any subject.
At other times, there was no particular reason but things around me suddenly seemed to vibrate with the “thisness” of themselves. Once, I was hiking in the San Bernardino Mountains, and came across a broad alluvial canyon strewn with rounded granite boulders. They seemed to glow with the essence of granite boulders, the mountains around were twice as much mountain as I’d ever experienced them before, and the sky, a smoggy blue-brown, was quintessentially sky. Sometimes I suspect that my enjoyment of the out of doors is partly because that’s where such epiphanies descend most often.
And finally, I’ve learned to bring on the feeling of connectedness with the universe on purpose. I play music with friends twice a week and can almost expect moments of transcendence, even though I’m far from a good fiddler. Last night, I spent a few moments before bed meditating, counting my breaths and being aware of my surroundings. After a few minutes, feeling my nose hairs tickle and listening to my husband and dog snore, I felt as though I was breathing the universe and it was breathing me. These moments don’t come as a matter of course, but the more I meditate, the more they appear.
It seems to me that we can’t live like that all the time. We’d be starstruck with the wonder of it all. We’d be like the inside of ringing bells. But everyone should learn how to make it possible for such moments to descend upon them.
1. The first ‘shift’ I can recall is when our family stopped going to church. It was going to happen anyway, but the minister’s exclusion of my hearing-impaired brother from confirmation classes hastened our departure. While I was taking the classes myself, there was also a point when the instructors forced us fourth and fifth graders to proclaim “Jesus is our lord” before we were able to leave the class. It felt like, and in fact was, a trick. I’ve always remembered the insincerity of the moment.
Other changes in my perspective have happened gradually and as a result of exposure to different kinds of people and information. As a college student I learned far more that I ever wanted to know about the injustices of this world. I was not a sheltered kid growing up, but the cruelty I was made aware of shocked me. It sent me reeling for a while and I felt fearful a lot. Having children has helped me view life in a more positive, constructive light and therefore have more hope for humanity in general. Teaching elementary kids in a supportive environment has made me feel even more hopeful. Meeting people where they are, and not grousing about where they should be has helped me really focus on the kids in front of me and care deeply about them.
I’ve not experienced any ‘breakthrough’ moments, yet; change in my life seems gradual.
I had the privilege of growing up in a small town in New England that is surrounded by the waters of Mt. Hope and Narragansett Bay. Brown University owns a large parcel of land adjacent to my childhood home. I had the pleasure of roaming its rocky shoreline, cedar forests and grassy meadows throughout my youth. Even today when I think of my sense of place, that landscape comes to my mind with pleasure. I had memorized each nook and cranny of those 600 acres as it grew into my favorite place to be.
The land was infused with a wealth of history, from the Wampanoag Indians to the slave traders and then to Brown University and its small anthropological museum. A small group of hippies squatted there from time to time, dancing, swimming and building sweat lodges to cleanse the night. These folks were/are my friends.
From childhood into adulthood I felt a strong connection to the earth and every season stirred my sense of wonder. This was a place I frequented with friends, dogs, family, and solo with my adolescent angst.
During my early teen years I spent a lot of time roaming about, relaxing in various places in the woods and shoreline. One distinct memory I have is of laying on a giant rock at the water’s edge, my body naked to the sun. Alone, calm, and sleepy, I felt myself melt into the rock as a wave of awareness spread through me. I was one with the rock, the salt sea air, and gentle east coast cedars as they shaded the earth on a scorched summer day. Although I had had memories of that “feeling” before, I had not felt so at home in a long time. That awareness has led me to a life full of reverence for nature in all her beauty and power, and a strong sense of belonging to her world.
Though I don’t dwell there all the time, I’ve had such moments as you describe since my earliest memories. The first is probably being a toddler and sitting in the fine dust outside at home, on a hot sunny day. I was watching ants going about their business and the sun was warm and the dust was squinchy when I wiggled my toes or sifted it between my fingers. I experience these moments as mostly a profound sense of timelessness, or time expansion, where suddenly things seem more open, larger-than-life, and without the usual tarnish that our expectations impose on them. I felt I could sit there forever, had sat there forever, would continue to live there forever.
I feel that way pretty often, and as have cultivated that feeling as much as possible. It is the zone I am in when I play music, when I feel the conversation that is going on under the literal reality of the notes. I feel that way when I am working (or at least when I am working effectively and well). I often feel that way in conflict situations, which I have learned over the years is a good thing, as I can let go of what I expect should be happening and see what is actually happening. Buddhism calls part of this mindset compassion, I believe.
Useful things to remember: Time is infinitely flexible, because it’s largely how you are deciding to perceive its passing that counts, not the literal reality of its passing (dental chair time versus ice cream time); only a handful of decisions are permanent, though all actions have consequences both anticipated and as yet unknown; paying attention generally means letting in more of the details of a given moment (like how your ankle is feeling with that chair leg against it, or noticing the way the light looks on the wall behind the sink, or how your shovel feels in different parts of the garden soil. Once I start letting this kind of information in I seem to be able to be more effective in every way.
Wow, do I sound like a space cadet, or what? Lest you think I walk slightly above the ground and exist only on air sipped in measured quantity, I actually have to go tend to my farm chores now…
While reading your post–and some of the replies that followed–I was struck by how few times I have felt a “cosmic consciousness.” If I had to speculate or analyze “why that is,” I would link it to my inability to be “still.” Not only am I competitive and goal oriented, I LIKE to be busy! Down-time is a difficult pill to swallow, because I seem to be mentally dialed in to this HUGE “to-do list.” Inevitably, the result is that I am thinking about all the stuff that needs to get done. And in the end, I opt to get something started (or finished, as completing a task brings immense satisfaction!).
That said, I can recall two specific and powerful times that past-present-future aligned and made me feel connected to each. The first was when I was 21. I was on an exchange in France and touring the “great cathedrals.” My aim was to become a popular CNN journalist operating out of Quebec or Paris, with my French/Journalism major (ah, the dreams of youth!). Little did I know that this experience would be so profound that I would change my major (to History/Political Science, and seek secondary endorsement). What moved me about the cathedrals was how directly I experienced them. Though grande, I related to them on the most personal level–through my senses. I took in the soaring arches and massive columns and felt physically puny and insignificant. I heard the feeling of the choir and the piercing pipe organs. I felt my knees and fingers engage in the mass rituals that I rejected as a young teenager, and rejoiced in the “sameness” of the ritual–even though in a foreign language and land. I smelled the mustiness of earth and felt “grounded,” able to be “present” and take it all in. I tasted the bitter wine and blandness of the communion wafer and wondered about those who had performed this same ritual, in the same spot before me–and of those who would do so after. For whatever reason, I have been unable to duplicate this experience.
Fortunately, the next experience–since it is so blissful–is one that happens from time to time. But, not if I try to conjure it, and not if I am over-analytical…which is ever so hard:) Long story short, owning a pet has been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Because it is “good for her,” I come home at a decent hour from work, take her for 30 minute walks daily, and sit outside whenever possible so she can have some “fresh air” and be “in nature.” Isn’t it interesting (for lack of better descriptor), that I do these things for her…but wouldn’t take a break from the rat-race for myself? Sad. Anyway, on the deck in the evenings, she sits on my legs, which are up, in another chair in a blanket. Being fond of the water feature, we listen to the water and the day melts away. We both delight in hearing the rustling of the cottonwood leaves at the property line, and I swear I can see the variations of greenness in the leaves. The sunshine warms our heads and hastens sleepiness and 20 minute naps. The joy I feel on these days is immeasurable, and I feel present and at ease with the universe (instead of battling it:).
As a thirty-something high school educator and coach for the past 15 years, it seems that my life is full of different relationships with students, athletes, teachers, friends, family, and community. I am a person who believes that all of these relationships need to be nurtured and grown….and it takes much energy and time to be successful at this task. Which can ultimately lead to a lack of time for myself…time to contemplate my life and where I have been and where I want to go in the future. I am sure most educators can relate somewhat to this.
What I have come to realize about my journey as I have aged and matured is that I become more aware of what I call “mini-awakenings” as time goes on. And usually these awakenings take place when I have the opportunity to sit down, relax, and just “be”. For me, they come in different forms; for example, it can be as simple as sitting on our back porch listening to the squirrels and birds talk to each other, or feeling totally connected to the ocean and it’s life when I surf….or even watching the news seeing that somewhere they had to put a wild animal like a bear or cougar down because humans are building developments that take their habitat and the feeling I get when these incidents occur.
I cherish this time to slow down and think about what is really important in my life and our world. I have come to believe that I am part of a much bigger picture. I have had the blessing of being able to teach, mentor, and help many people in my life up to this point, and I guess I have always just felt this to be my calling. I guess self-awakenings depend on the individual. What one person considers an awakening, another may not.
I will share one that I think was pretty cool….I went surfing up on the Straits of Juan de Fuca a couple of years back, on a beautiful northwest summer day, and I am sitting on my board, waiting for the next good wave to carry me over the water. As I sat there, a pair of bald eagles flew in the sky probably 50 yards from me, I let a wave go by and as I turned, I watched the spray fly off the back of this beautifully shaped wave, giving a small rainbow. I looked out at the vast amount of water I was in, and had a realization of how small and inconsequential I really am in the grand scheme of our world and universe. This huge body of water could do whatever it wanted to with me, and there really wasn’t much I could do about the power it harnessed.
Through relationships and experiences, I have true realization of my life, but more importantly, the bigger picture and how we all relate to our world. How great would our country and world would be if more people took the time to think about something beyond themselves?
I had the opportunity to study zen while living in Japan and had the experience during a retreat of the complete release of my body and an understanding of the vastness that undergirds everything. This experience gave me instant access to this understanding, even though it often gets lost in the everyday struggle. Practices like yoga and connecting with others helps me to find this perspective again, but certainly, it is easy to lose sight of even once one has it. This understanding is the most important perspective to help our students develop, I believe.