Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
The sensation at the point of connection
Here is a question recently posed to me: "What is the sensation at the point of connection?"
A new koan for the summer of '09.
A new koan for the summer of '09.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Friday, March 06, 2009
What can you give up knowing?
What can you give up knowing?
This is the question posed as a writing excercise on page 168 in Natalie Goldberg's book on writing memoir, Old Friend from Far Away. It's the perfect koan in this time for so many of us when things seem uncertain and in flux. "What can you give up knowing?" is a question that I got to ponder today when a friend asked me about the perimeters of my beliefs and getting to the edges of what feels comfortable to me.
He suggests that perhaps there are places where I've gotten a little too comfortable and where I may get stuck. I laugh. Because I have been anything but comfortable lately. I've been at the edge a lot. But he knows and I know what he's driving at:
"Just be honest...does it matter what others think?" he asks.
"Does it matter what others think?" I reflect out loud.
Well, ofcourse, I think to myself. We don't live in a vacum. We live and rely on others for support and resources. Saying unpopular or hard truths don't exactly win you friends.
"Does it matter?--So what if it leaves you alone?" he says plainly, "Frankly, you worry too much about what others think."
I know that he shares this with love and concern. But part of me won't let it lie, because my frankness has not always been welcome. And I know what it means to take full responsibility for unintended consequences.
"Look. I've taken hits before for saying the unpopular. I've visited that place many times and would pay the price over and over again, gladly. But, I'm sorry, just being honest with some folks about things they are not ready to hear... is just not worth it. Folks can't handle the truth."
"That's your judgement."
"Yeah. Plus-I don't like being alone." I shoot back, "And it's not just about being alone...it could be that you tell your truth, and they don't like it, aren't ready to recieve it. And then it's you who pays. There's always prices to pay when you do. And sometimes, the prices at the time are just too costly. And it's just not worth it. It's just not worth dealing with the disappointment that they don't get it. Their judgement. Or the backlash after their hurt. Or the pull-back. So I just hold back."
"So that's what you believe."
"Yes,"
"That's what you believe?"
"Yes."
"Then--where and when you hold back: that's your perimeter."
And so right there. I get it. What do I have to give up knowing to expand the boundries of my contained universe? I have to give up knowing the righteous certainty of being misunderstood by those who live outside my experience. To relinquish the perception management, and trust being is more than enough than "knowing".
I have to give up a certainty that the bridge called my back will not be broken when I willingly open up my world for another's view. I have to give up knowing the comfort of safe identities or silos that keep me separate.
And I have to accept that a heart broken open to honesty survives and thrives. I have to release the strain in exchange for a willing curiousity to follow the arc of a new story and take a new hero's path--
To learn to be force without being forceful.
To still have a voice without having to always raise it.
To let movement, come from a tiny place inside-not always organized from without...
Can i/we do it?
What can you give up knowing?
This is the question posed as a writing excercise on page 168 in Natalie Goldberg's book on writing memoir, Old Friend from Far Away. It's the perfect koan in this time for so many of us when things seem uncertain and in flux. "What can you give up knowing?" is a question that I got to ponder today when a friend asked me about the perimeters of my beliefs and getting to the edges of what feels comfortable to me.
He suggests that perhaps there are places where I've gotten a little too comfortable and where I may get stuck. I laugh. Because I have been anything but comfortable lately. I've been at the edge a lot. But he knows and I know what he's driving at:
"Just be honest...does it matter what others think?" he asks.
"Does it matter what others think?" I reflect out loud.
Well, ofcourse, I think to myself. We don't live in a vacum. We live and rely on others for support and resources. Saying unpopular or hard truths don't exactly win you friends.
"Does it matter?--So what if it leaves you alone?" he says plainly, "Frankly, you worry too much about what others think."
I know that he shares this with love and concern. But part of me won't let it lie, because my frankness has not always been welcome. And I know what it means to take full responsibility for unintended consequences.
"Look. I've taken hits before for saying the unpopular. I've visited that place many times and would pay the price over and over again, gladly. But, I'm sorry, just being honest with some folks about things they are not ready to hear... is just not worth it. Folks can't handle the truth."
"That's your judgement."
"Yeah. Plus-I don't like being alone." I shoot back, "And it's not just about being alone...it could be that you tell your truth, and they don't like it, aren't ready to recieve it. And then it's you who pays. There's always prices to pay when you do. And sometimes, the prices at the time are just too costly. And it's just not worth it. It's just not worth dealing with the disappointment that they don't get it. Their judgement. Or the backlash after their hurt. Or the pull-back. So I just hold back."
"So that's what you believe."
"Yes,"
"That's what you believe?"
"Yes."
"Then--where and when you hold back: that's your perimeter."
And so right there. I get it. What do I have to give up knowing to expand the boundries of my contained universe? I have to give up knowing the righteous certainty of being misunderstood by those who live outside my experience. To relinquish the perception management, and trust being is more than enough than "knowing".
I have to give up a certainty that the bridge called my back will not be broken when I willingly open up my world for another's view. I have to give up knowing the comfort of safe identities or silos that keep me separate.
And I have to accept that a heart broken open to honesty survives and thrives. I have to release the strain in exchange for a willing curiousity to follow the arc of a new story and take a new hero's path--
To learn to be force without being forceful.
To still have a voice without having to always raise it.
To let movement, come from a tiny place inside-not always organized from without...
Can i/we do it?
What can you give up knowing?
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