Friday Dialog with Mother Henna...
Maybe it's because I'm Capricorn, maybe it's because perfection seemed necessary when I was a child. Whatever the reason, I have a tendency to review. To take time to consciously see where I have been, to assess where I am, to plan where I want to go next. The one conclusion that always seems to come is this: it's really never about me. Not the *real* me anyway.
Most of the past issues and future plans are about the myth of me. The me, the character of me who gets written up as I go along. And since I'm the author, history gets revised sometimes, the future often looks grand or bleak depending on the fluctuation of my emotions. It all becomes a story.
But the *real* me is something deeper, something that is only in the present moment, something that is more of just a witness to whatever is happening right now. It's the me who is conscious of being conscious. When I can manage to be with this *real* me, I find calm, quiet, peace, and nothing but now, now, now.
As simple as it sounds, I find it difficult to stay there. The past creeps in demanding her concerns are considered. The future reaches in and demands to be heard and heard and heard.
An interesting practice I recently discovered is the act of simply being still. Just stop. Do nothing but breathe. Don't move. Don't talk. When the thoughts intrude, just simply and silently say to myself, "Okay, that's just a thought, let it go." Sometimes I imagine a bookshelf outside the door and place the thoughts there knowing I can pick them up later if I want. It helps me to lovingly let go instead of fearfully try to shed thought. And then come back to the moment of stillness. Breathe. When an itch comes or an ache comes, it is just another thought and I place it outside on the bookshelf instead of moving to scratch or change position. It's an interesting practice.
Sometimes I use it as a way to fall asleep. Sometimes I use it as a way to stay awake. Sometimes I use it as a way to be as present as possible -- especially when I'm feeling uncomfortable or someone is trying to get me into a gossipy or mean-spirited conversation. It's interesting to see how people respond. Stillness almost alarms them. They don't know what to do with it. But most of the time, they never again try to engage me in that kind of conversation which is a blessing.
This kind of practice is also a blessing in times of distress or severe grief. Instead of fumbling for words or trying to find a way to scramble and fix things, I try to simply be still and sit with the grief. I can't tell you how many times people have told me that I was the first person who would just allow them to have their grief, let them begin to integrate the reality of grief with the whole of the rest of who they are. I'm extremely honored to experience those moments.
And even in art-making, this practice is very handy. Confronting a blank page or canvas can be scary. I used to get creativity block and it would take me weeks and weeks to get back around to creating anything. Now I just stop, find the stillness in front of the blank page, and BE. I put my judgment and criticism of my lame self outside the door on the shelf (rarely do I willing ever want to pick those up again!). And instead of condemning myself or having a panic attack, I just sit with the stillness of the blank page.
You guessed it. Eventually something rises to the surface and I begin typing or writing or drawing. I've begun to see that all my "creativity blocks" have just been an unwillingness to stop and listen to myself. I would do anything but listen. Distract, judge, complain, eat, talk on the phone, anything would do. But never, never would I listen.
It is definitely a practice, not a "perfect" science. I try it out, one day it works, next day it doesn't. But because it is practice, I try again the next day instead of giving up. It is an interesting process.
So I will close my guest hostessing week here by offering you this Creative Spark:
Make time this weekend to be still. For a minute or an hour. Whatever you wish. Just be still and watch what your present moment is like. Don't judge yourself. When the thoughts come, and they always do, just acknowledge them and let them go. Set them outside the door, and know you can get them later if you want. Notice what you sound like breathing. Notice that maybe you hear your heart beating. Just be still and let those things happen. Relax every muscle in your face. Just let the skin droop over your bones, don't hold anything. Let the floor or chair hold you, they are sturdy and do that job just fine. Just be.
Just try it. See how it feels. See how your day unfolds after doing this. Try doing it before you start art-making. See if your artistic process is influenced by the stillness.
And then if you feel like sharing your experience, come back and leave a comment!
Many thanks to everyone here and, of course, to Melba for giving me the space here this week. It's been nice to eMeet all of you -- keep connecting, you can always reach me over at MotherHenna -- and looking forward to maybe meeting in person one day!
Miracles,
k-
