When we Run Too Long from the Truth, We Become Imprisoned by Our Attempt to Escape: The War on Truth

How long can anyone actively ignore the truth before the truth comes back at them? Certainly, anyone who was or is being abused and traumatized carries an extremely difficult reality as a burden, and need compassion and support to face it. But for those who want revenge, who strike out to disappear not only a truth they didn’t like yet heard spoken, but the person who voiced it⎼ there’s something very wrong. Attacking someone because they say something that opposes their way of thinking is simply wrong. Eventually, the reality must break through. Like in a dream, if we run from a nightmare image it pursues us even more vehemently; running from the truth can imprisons us.

 

This is DT. I don’t know if he’s just emotionally incapable of acknowledging any reality other than one he’s fashioned; or if he’s so unstable, so on edge he gets vindictive if he’s challenged. Or maybe he just uses edginess as a strategy to frighten others into giving him what he wants. No matter what, his power and actions have been scary and dangerous for so many of us.

 

Even before first taking office in 2017, he showed a repugnance for speaking, perceiving, or even allowing the truth to be spoken in his presence. The number of distortions and lies he’s uttered is incredible. And he’s attacked, spread ridiculous lies and dangerous threats against those who oppose or speak against him, so much so that now no one in the GOP will reign him in. Many of those who follow him believe he’s the very voice of truth.

 

But if no one will challenge a would-be emperor, how will he know he’s naked? The case of the Epstein Files might be one step in the truth catching him. DT continuously fueled conspiracy theories about prominent people, mostly Democrats, using Jeffrey Epstein’s services to engage in sex crimes with minors. DT promised his supporters he would release the “Epstein client list.” He promised prosecutions, to name names and reveal evidence. He promised transparency. Instead, he had the DOJ redact his name from Epstein files.

 

And for his supporters, the issue of stopping child sexual abuse and sex trafficking is deeply important and emotional; they believed DT would champion their concerns and expose the crimes. Why they would expect a person convicted of sexual abuse with a long history of twisting the truth to honestly champion their call for honesty and transparency is beyond me; but this is what occurred.

 

What will happen when the reality of DT’s actions concerning Ghislaine Maxwell, Epstein’s co-predator, hits more people? Maxwell is a convicted sex trafficker, who not only recruited young girls for commercial sex but participated in their abuse, and constantly lied about it. DT had Todd Blanche talk with her instead of her victims, and then ordered her moved to a low security, resort prison. What deals did he work out with her in terms of possible future testimony?

 

So now, DT is in trouble. His own supporters can’t believe him when he and his DOJ say there is no list, or the Democrats created the list, or the issue is not worth his time⎼ and those who waste his time pushing for release of the records he promised to reveal are “weaklings,” “idiots.”

 

DT is at war with truth and with reality itself. He’s at war with anyone who reveals facts or speaks truths or shares useful information.

 

He’s at war with any news media that reveals truths, reveals the reality that opposes his fiction….

 

*To read the whole piece, please click on this link to The Good Men Project.

Can We Utilize Fear Instead of Fearing It? – When It’s So Real It Feels Unreal

This time in history we’re going through is not only scary and disturbing, but so difficult to understand and accept as real. Part of that difficulty comes from the almost all-pervasive reach of the threat. Part of it comes from wanting so much to know what will happen⎼ want to know “we will be all right” ⎼ but we’re in a different universe from knowing that. Part of it comes from perceiving that so much we value, that we feel is crucial to our lives is being taken away step by step. And this is so real it feels unreal.

 

Just last week, DT threatened to withhold support for or attack lawmakers who go against his wish to wipe out the independent free press in this country, including defunding NPR and PBS. And then his sycophants in Congress defunded NPR and PBS.

 

He sued the Wall Street Journal for billions for publishing a letter purportedly from DT to Jeffrey Epstein that included a lewd drawing, and apparently providing evidence that DT and Epstein were not just casual acquaintances.

 

Stephen Colbert, who was often critical of the president in his monologues, saw his contract for his late-night show terminated by CBS. This looks suspiciously like CBS acting in fear of being attacked by DT. As Steven Harper, in Common Dreams asked, was Colbert’s termination part of an implicit or explicit deal to get Federal Communications Commission approval for a merger between Paramount (parent company of CBS) and Skydance Media?

 

And was the termination of Colbert’s contract a continuation of Paramounmt’s bowing down to DT that they started earlier in the year, when they agreed to pay the President $16 million to settle a suit that he had almost no chance of winning? The suit was not just frivolous but a direct attack by DT on CBS for daring to share, during the election, an interview with DT’s opponent, Kamala Harris.

 

And these are just a small sampling of his attacks on the press. He threatened legal action against CNN for reporting on an app that warns people when ICE agents are nearby. He threatened Disney, which owns ABC News, with a suit because George Stephanopoulos, a top news anchor, shared a description of the president’s assault on writer E. Jean Carroll⎼ and Disney capitulated, paid $16 million to DT, despite the fact DT was found guilty by a court, for this case of sexual abuse.

 

And on and on. DT is quickly moving to secure the power of a dictator. He’s trying to rip away our right to free speech and to eliminate all the vehicles we could use to exercise that right. Back in 2017, during his first administration, he received criticism for calling the media, the free press, the “enemy of the people.” Now, he’s straight out attacking any media or anyone that shares views other than his own. He’s doing anything he can to shut it, or us, up.

 

We don’t know what will come of this. We don’t know if enough people will protest, or enough politicians will say “we’ve had it with him.” And then there’s the Jeffrey Epstein rebellion against DT.

 

There’s a large segment of MAGA supporters who voted for DT because he promised to reveal a list complied by Jeffrey Epstein of prominent men who utilized Epstein’s connections to engage in child sexual predation. And now DT’s saying the opposite⎼ saying, there was no list. There is nothing there. And any of you that waste my time on this are weaklings, stupid people. Will the Jeffrey Epstein rebellion against DT’s refusal to come clean build in strength and undermine his power base?

 

DT has also been showing increasing signs of cognitive decline, although there have been warnings of him being reality-challenged for years….

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

Fear-Wall Gorge: The Poetry and Joy that Can Arise in Mindful Awareness and Self-Compassion

In 8th century China, the classical Chinese poet Tu Fu, as translated by David Hinton, described his journey down a river through Fear-Wall Gorge. It was a war-ravaged time. At first, I didn’t see or feel the poetry of the poem, the artistry; it seemed simply a list of natural and personal elements. Then I slowed down enough to re-read it a second or third time. And I was there, feeling an old man in a boat, on a river rushing through a gorge.

 

…mossy rock slipping past my unused cane,

kingfisher-green sky empty buffeting skin.

 

Cliffs parade layers of frost-edged sword,

streams cascading pearls of falling water…

 

The scene intense at times, fearful; at others, filled with delight and maybe grief.

“Indifferent to this sparse thing I am, I rest

At ease…” Later, he’s “lit with joy.”

 

I’ve been trying to figure out why this poem stayed in my mind so clearly after reading it, besides literary appreciation. And it must be because, in a sense, we’re all in the boat with Tu Fu. We might not be facing such a bloody and destructive war. But we are, always, hopefully, going on with our lives, facing the familiar and the unknowable, the light and the intense, the beautiful and the fearful, sailing rivers, passing steep cliffs, noticing mossy rocks beyond our unused or used canes, wounds, pains.

 

And maybe we notice the details as clearly as Tu Fu does, feeling them directly. Sensing the shared life, shared feeling, the percipient, knowing, awareness within it all⎼ the silence in the sounds, the unity linking the sights. And the joys possible in such sensing⎼ when we’re quiet enough. We feel nothing is missing because nothing is excluded; all that is possible to touch is touched.

 

Resting at ease⎼ not so easy. Letting my mind flow where it will⎼ not so easy.

 

In a workshop on mindfulness, meditation teacher and author Sharon Salzberg talked about “the golden moment.” This is when we’re practicing meditation, or when we’re working on a task or focusing on an activity, and we drift away and forget what we’re doing; we notice nothing except the words, memories, anxieties or plans in our head.

 

And then, suddenly, we realize what we’re doing. We notice we’ve drifted. We take in what’s not easy for us. What do we do then? If we yell at ourselves, about how bad a meditator or worker we are, we then run off again into thoughts and recriminations. Our mind becomes so small. We become recrimination. Instead, when we do our best, whatever that is for us, to simply notice we’re lost; and we just observe, then we find ourselves anew. Our awareness and mind expand. We take in more.

 

And maybe this is why this poem spoke to me. There it was, so much of life⎼ what feels right, what feels wrong, the joy and fear.

 

How do we get free from the cage of thoughts endlessly recreating themselves in our mind?…

 

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

I’m Dumbfounded: Are We Too Afraid and Too Ready to Accept a Simple or Convenient Lie Instead of Searching for The More Complex Truth?

I’m dumbfounded. Perplexed. Confused. And frightened. Worried. I feel a hole in my stomach. My hands feel like they’re vibrating, but it’s on the inside only. My mouth, cheeks, and eyes feel heavy, like they’re filled with concrete.

 

Dumbfounded is a good word, because I feel dumb. Have I been so wrong about humanity? Are our fellow Americans just so misogynistic they couldn’t allow a woman to be president? Or too racist? But somewhere upwards of 40% of Latinos voted for DT and helped swing the election. I’m missing something here. Or are we too vengeful? Too afraid? Too ready to accept a simple or convenient lie instead of searching for the more complex or inconvenient truth? Are our memories so short we don’t remember the chaos, fear, and malignant incompetence of DT’s response to COVID? Or his assaults on healthcare? The favoritism shown the rich?

 

Or have too many of us been so consumed by fake news we can’t see what seems so obvious to many of us? Or so deluded by disinformation we’ve voted in the King of fake news? The wanna-be Dictator of lies, hate, and fear?

 

I’m so confused.

 

Or maybe the election results are off? Or just feel impossible? Certainly, if the results prove accurate, the polling was off.

 

I was recently at a large dinner party seated with two obviously intelligent women I didn’t know. They were talking about their distrust in government. Their level of distrust and bitter anger startled me. One, who was a Kamala Harris supporter, even said, “Do we really know if we should have fought in World War II? Did we defeat Fascism?” I jumped in with two not-very mindful feet and said, “Yes. We did. Remember six million Jews had been killed, exterminated.” We shut off the ovens. We released starving millions from concentration camps. She said she agreed with me. The other woman became silent. But what about the distrust? Was I witnessing the result of disinformation aimed at undermining our trust in democracy?

 

Maybe she had a point neither of us recognized right then. Maybe the fascism continued underground. Maybe we saw its ugly face last night?

 

I don’t know.

 

But maybe the not-knowing can be a good thing….

 

**To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

Trust: What Does it Mean? How Can We Better Trust Ourselves?

Trust, such a common word. But such an important ingredient in a “good” life, a fulfilling life, a full life. But what is trust? What’s going on in ourselves and in our relationship with the world when we feel it?  How do we even know it is what we feel?

 

In the introduction to poet David Whyte’s wonderful book, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words, author and poet Maria Popova observes that words are not artefacts, not our possessions, not things, not static, but alive and always evolving. They feed on us as we feed on them; as we use them, we are used by them. In his book, she says, Whyte repatriates us in the land of language and thus repatriates us in ourselves.

 

For example, take the word courage. It tempts us to imagine bravely facing opposing forces in a military or physical or maybe even a political battle. And above all, to be seen as doing so. To reap the rewards.

 

But the roots of the word reach back to old Norman French, to coeur, heart. Courage is what we feel and show when we live life, relate to our community, to friends, with heart. To seat our feelings and actions deeply in our body and world. It is a type of love. Courage, Whyte says, is what love looks like when we’re tested by the everyday necessities of being alive and respond with caring, with surprise, with belonging. We realize an awareness of vulnerability is a necessity in taking a step forward. On the inside, it might seem like confusion. Only from the outside, or looking back, does it appear like courage.

 

And it seems to me, trust shares a related etiology. According to the Encarta: World English Dictionary, its roots are in the Old Norse traust, meaning confidence, and treysta or trust. And even further, to an Indo-European base, meaning to be solid, which is the ancestor of the English true, tryst, and tree. An interesting grouping. The word is normally used to mean confidence in and reliance on the good qualities, fairness, truthfulness, honor or ability of someone or something. It assumes responsibility, caring, even hope, or giving credit to somebody or something. It’s part of being daring. And maybe, it includes a bit of the love expressed in courage.

 

It’s such a wonderful thing to say, “I trust you”. At some times and places, trust was signified by a handshake. Pre-COVID (and hopefully, post-COVID), we might hug. We might say, someone is trusting, or worthy of trust. Just recently, I realized so much of my life depends on trusting myself. Even meditation requires trust, in the process, in ourselves.

 

When a thought arises in meditation or elsewhere, or a fear, or insight, we might respond by feeling jumpy or excited; our belly, hands, or leg muscles might clench. We feel life speeding up. And we think we can’t afford to miss this thought, can’t afford not to respond. We must shift our attention to it, shift our life to possess it. A sort of FOMO, or fear of missing out. For example, we might feel that if we don’t write it down or act on the thought right then, we’ll miss out on an opportunity, or we’ll forget and lose it. We won’t reap some reward or avoid some future disaster.

 

Just the moment by itself then becomes not enough for us. Life itself becomes not enough….

 

*To read the whole article, go to The Good Men Project.

Reading, and Sensing an Immense World: It Takes a Universe

A wonderful friend and former colleague recommended a book to me that I found fascinating. It’s called An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us, by Ed Yong. It speaks to so many issues and concerns of our world today.

 

We both live the truth, and an illusion. The world we perceive can be so clear, immediate, and vital to us. Yet it sits imbedded in innumerable other worlds, universes, though we don’t and can’t perceive almost any of them. We mistake what we see for all that is there. What we perceive is not the world but one our human brain and body have evolved to perceive.

 

For example, Yong points out that we humans “cannot sense the faint electric fields that sharks and platypuses can…[nor] the magnetic fields that robins and sea turtles detect.” Our ears can’t hear the ultrasonic calls of hummingbirds or the infrasonic speech of elephants and whales. We can’t perceive the infrared radiation that is the heart of what snakes detect or the ultraviolet light birds and bees sense every moment.

 

Each species has what Yong, borrowing from Baltic-German zoologist Jakob von Uexkull, called an umwelt or perceptual world. A tick does not perceive a tree, green leaves, blue skies. It doesn’t ignore them. It simply is incapable of sensing or knowing them; they are outside its umwelt. Likewise, we can’t sense the tick’s world.

 

Too often we ignore, or are ignorant of these co-existing realties, and we harm other species by imposing our perceptual system bias on them. For example, our submarines use underwater noises that confuse whales and drown out their calls. The glass panes in our homes appear as bodies of water to a bat’s sonar. We hurt our cats and dogs by interfering in their use of their primary sense activity, sniffing, and unknowingly impose our human visual bias on them.

 

If we can’t understand what the other worlds are like to live in, Yong points out maybe we can use our reason and imagination to honor and recognize them. For example, we can imaginatively enter the world of a dog, or even more so, an elephant. Scents, unlike light, do not move in straight lines. They go around corners, up and down, swirl, and twist in all directions. Humans have fine noses. But a dog not only has more sense receptors, a larger olfactory bulb and scent-brain than we do, but a more complicated nasal structure.

 

When we humans exhale, we purge odors from our nose. But each nostril of a dog is divided in two so it can exhale carbon dioxide while inhaling more aromas. This is one reason they can detect low blood sugar levels or tumors in humans or discern a single fingerprint on a microscopic slide even after it was outdoors for a week. They can smell in the air an oncoming storm.

 

For dogs, everything around them includes the scent not only of what’s here, now, but the past and future. And smell has the most direct link to the brain of any sense. And since that link goes right to the brain’s emotional center, I imagine their world is dominated by emotions. Some might doubt the rich emotional lives of many animals but this science argues otherwise….

 

*To read the whole article, please click on this link to The Good Men Project.

 

What Might Being at Peace Mean? The Deep Joy Embedded in Presence that Inclines Us to Laughter

Each morning, before meditating, I follow a version of the Buddhist practice of dedicating the meditation to relieving the suffering of others. I wish that I, my wife, and anyone close to me who is suffering, or every being anywhere, be at peace. The practice calms me. But I must admit that it’s not always clear what being at peace would realistically be like in our world today or if my notion of peace is like anyone else’s.

 

It’s clear to me that saying it and meaning it, doing it with sincerity, is possibly a beginning of an answer in itself. Telling ourselves being at peace is possible is a door to being there. Or maybe it’s a door to persuading ourselves we deserve it.

 

So, what do I mean by being at peace? It can sound to many of us like contentment or being satisfied; and it does share something with those two states of heart and mind. Yet, it’s closer to calmness or happiness, both of which might be components of peace.

 

But contentment, satisfaction, and even happiness have a bad rep in many quarters today. There’s so much that is terrifying right now, so many threats, so much injustice, how can we want peace? How can we be content, happy, or satisfied? Don’t we want discontent, fury, and outrage? Don’t we want determination and commitment to change?

 

And so many of us, even critics in my own mind, seem to doubt we deserve it. It seems we’ve been educated in discontent with ourselves.

 

I think fostering discontent with political policies that harm people is simply responsible behavior. But discontent that arises from conducting a war with ourselves is an entirely different story. It assists those who would do us harm. It undermines our work to create a more compassionate and equitable country by undermining our ability to be compassionate with ourselves. Being at war with ourselves exhausts inner resources that could help us imagine positive actions to take, and then take them.

 

And maybe recognizing this is a key to feeling at peace ⎼ accepting and being able to live in our own minds and bodies. ‘Accepting’ not in the sense of being unaware of the reality of what we are and what we face, but instead very cognizant of it. It’s not easy to accept that we can’t always be strong or feel good or know the answer, or to not automatically attack whatever feels threatening. Being at peace begins with not being at war with ourselves.

 

Our thoughts often take the form of stories, or internally created and enacted stage-plays or scripts. “All the world is a stage,” said Shakespeare. These plays can be noticed through mindful observation and are described not only in meditation teachings but the psychological approaches of Transactional Analysis and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

 

Self-criticism can be helpful, if it motivates us to be aware of painful patterns of thought and behavior. But it can also separate our inner world into warring parties. The self-critic is one character or side in the drama. The criticized is another. Too often, we react to the critic as if it was a celestial judge. When we abstract ourselves from the moments of our lives and try to reduce our world to only an idea of it, we suffer. Our ideals can be impossible to live up to, yet we all have them. We are all imperfect, full of contradictions. To the degree we hold an ideal too tightly, to that same degree we can hurt ourselves for not meeting that ideal…

 

*To read the whole blog, please go to The Good Men Project.

Spirit Music, and A Study in Sincerity

Today was a tough day. My body hurt in so many places and for reasons that are beyond my knowing. And the daily news is so mixed, the horrible mixed with the beautiful. Yet…

 

Even on days like today, we can read, hear, or see something that takes us someplace totally unanticipated, to a mind-state, or a universe so alive, so conscious, that moments which once seemed painful, tired, or sad are transformed into something wonderful we embrace with all our being.

 

I’m reading a book called Hunger Mountain: A Field Guide to Mind and Landscape, by the poet and translator of Chinese literature, David Hinton. And I feel this. I’ve felt this in other books by Hinton, and books by other poets, and philosophers, historians, meditators, travelers, and psychologists. I’ve felt this with certain people, animals, and places.

 

Books have forever been a way to inform, challenge, and inspire us, to understand what before was incomprehensible. They allow a depth of examination that other formats don’t. For me, the internet, tv, social media all favor little sound or information bites that keep us more focused on the surface of things.

 

But the words in books like Hinton’s are spirit-music. When we read them, if we’re open to them, if we can inhabit them so we walk as the inhabitants in the books walked, we create something never seen before, yet ancient. The very air breathes us, speaks the words with us.

 

Hinton says, “Things are themselves only as they belong to something more than themselves: I to we, we to earth, earth to planets and stars…” We recognize ourselves and become truly ourselves only with others, in whatever place, time, and universe we are in.

 

The first chapter is called ‘sincerity.’ Hinton says the Chinese character for sincerity depicts a side view of a person walking or standing next to words rising out of a mouth. A lie attempts to hide the truth from others, but usually hides the universe and others from ourselves. This creates an inner tension. If we’re sincere, our thoughts are the same as the words we speak; all of what happens supposedly “outside,” in language, mountain, and sky, opens inside. And what we say unites us with where we are and who we’re with; it reveals to us that, in fact, we’re the universe itself speaking.

 

Sincerity raises us like a parent’s love, one that is absolute, yet clear seeing and adapting. We each have different loves, different doorways to the mysterious. Everything provides such a doorway if we can find it. Sincerity is the sign that marks the door.

 

When I was teaching secondary school literature, philosophy, or history, the students and I talked about finding that doorway. Children, especially teenagers, are not shy about calling out insincerity and respect the care and trust expressed by sincerity. For example, poetry can often be so difficult to comprehend. But when we read a poem with full attention, a word, phrase, or image would stand out, but which word or image did that was different for different students. And once we realized the door was there, we could feel or question our way in deeper….

 

*To read the whole article, please go to The Good Men Project.

 

Are We the Masked Species? What Can Wearing a Mask Teach Us About Ourselves?

What can wearing a COVID-mask teach us about ourselves and how we look at others? After almost two years of living in a pandemic, we could benefit by thinking not only about how wearing a mask can protect others from us, or us from a deadly disease, but about what mask wearing can teach us about ourselves, and relating to others.

 

We use the word person to refer to what we are and say we have a personality. The root word here is Latin, persona, meaning a social role, image, or a theatrical mask or appearance we wear in public. Psychologist Carl Jung used the term to mean the social face we present to others, a mask or image we create, or way to hide elements of ourselves. So, in a way we were the masked species even before the pandemic.

 

From antiquity, masks have been an important element of possibly all cultures. Most staged dramas began with performers wearing masks. In Ancient Greece, for example, the legendary poet, Thespis, was supposedly the first to put an actor on a stage and turn choral recitation into drama. He created larger than life masks that also acted like a megaphone. The first written stories were myths with existential and religious themes, about creation, life and death, heroes, and heroines. The first dramas were enacted myths, so drama emerged from religious ceremonies. But what happens when we wear an actual medical mask in public while doing everyday tasks?

 

Of course, politics also enters the picture, as the right-wing in the US and elsewhere have turned a medical necessity into a political statement, thus undermining the effectiveness of masks as simply a practical way to prevent the spread of a deadly disease. This influences how we respond to masks and perceive those who wear them, as well as undermines the value of rational, factual based decision-making. It purposefully turns the social sphere, the public commons into a stage for enacting a political and possibly even a religious drama.

 

Other people are no longer perceived as persons very much like us, but as characters in a drama. And when political leaders of one party threaten and call for violence against another party or against anyone who disagrees with them, that drama can too easily become deadly.

 

According to a research article by Frontiers in Psychology, COVID masks cover about 60-70% of the area of the face responsible for emotional expression. This makes identification of others or any social interaction more difficult. It limits the ability of other people to read our emotions and hear what we say, as the sound of our words is usually augmented by the sight of our lips moving and changes in facing expression. Consciously reading subtle emotional cues as well as the trustworthiness or honesty of others can be difficult enough for many of us without a mask. A mask obviously diminishes this ability.

 

How much does a mask become a blank slate for us to project our own personal dramas? We all know how deeply important how our face looks is to most of us. Especially today, with so many suffering from anxiety and trauma, we can feel extremely sensitive, self-judgmental about how we look, afraid of the tiniest “imperfections.” …

 

**To read the whole article, please click on this link to The Good Men Project.

We Are Always in Conversation with the Life that Surrounds and Sustains Us

The world is constantly in conversation, talking with itself, or maybe singing to itself.

 

As I stood in the front yard this morning, gypsy moths by the hundreds fluttered around our trees in the yard. Sunlight bounced off their brownish wings, a blue jay was flying between the moths, leaves dancing with wind, while a car crunched the gravel on the road and a crow cried out. I disliked what the moths represented, the oak, maple, and apple trees stripped bare of leaves. But at that moment, all was different. The air itself felt alive and was speaking.

 

Peter Doobinin, in his book, Skillful Pleasure: The Buddha’s Path for Developing Skillful Pleasure, describes how we can use thought to improve thinking. When we are working on a complex task, or we have an appointment later in the day, we talk ourselves through it or to it. We remind ourselves what we need to do or what time we need to leave our home in order to arrive on time. Likewise, when practicing mindfulness, or maybe anytime, we can remind ourselves to arrive right here, now, to be present, to fully focus on whatever task we undertake, or be aware of the quality of our breathing.

 

For example, before a meeting, or engaging in an important conversation, we might remind ourselves to first stop, take three conscious, deeper breaths. Notice how fast or slow, deep or shallow are our breaths, then our thoughts. Notice how we feel before engaging with others.

 

We use thought not only to arrive on time or complete a task but to construct an idea of ourselves, or an identity. We plan our future, select labels for our character, write mental reviews of past actions as if we were writing a review of a movie or play. Thoughts can pop up so easily.

 

In Buddhism, thought is considered the sixth primary form of consciousness, or sense consciousness, following sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch/feeling; it is closely tied to sense experience. So we need to remember that a thought has a different quality than direct perception. It can weigh a great deal emotionally. It can block or expand our viewpoint, aid or obscure the senses in discerning how completely tied we are to the universe. But when isolated from the senses, thought colors are less brilliant than that of bird wings, flowers, or a sunset.

 

Bruce Chatwin, in his book The Songlines, takes us to the Outback to learn about the First Nation People of Australia and the creator beings who sang the world into existence; song being the original language of people. The original songs are called songlines, or dreaming tracks, and mark the routes followed by creator-beings as they carved the earth during the Dreamtime, or time of creation.

 

But dreaming tracks are not solely about the past. They mark both a where and a when, a time and all time, or the continuous process linking the Aboriginal people to the land and heavens.

According to Wikipedia, a knowledgeable person even today can navigate vast distances, cross deserts and mountains, by singing and following the directions in the songline.

 

In this way, maybe we sing a songline to reach ourselves, or sing ourselves into existence through song.

 

Two metaphors, songs and conversations, or songs as conversations and vice versa. I don’t know which is more apt. We hear the universe singing; we hear the universe in conversation all the time but maybe don’t know exactly what we’re listening to….

 

*To read the whole post, please use this link to The Good Men Project, who published the piece.