What Would You Die For? From Quiet Desperation to Making a Difference (Juanita Violini)

What Would You Die For? From Quiet Desperation to Making a Difference (Juanita Violini)

There is a distinction between what we would die for and what is worth living for. What we would die for brings us to reflect on something beyond this life. To consider this requires us to know and accept three things: our bodies are going to die, we are all connected, and we make a difference. Aging brings an imperative with it. Our society is uncomfortable with death. Keeping death from children makes life harder. If we weren’t identified with the body, losing it wouldn’t be such a big deal. We are not a drop of water in the ocean; we are the whole ocean in a drop. If we come to accept we are going to die, we are less controlled by fear and have more space to find what really matters to us. Is there a principle we would do anything for? What we would die for is something we can stand on and measure our actions from. It is unlikely we would actually have to die for it but knowing it makes a difference. Part of knowing ourselves, which is one of the most important pieces of work we have in this lifetime, is knowing what we would die for. It is impactful to consider dying like a hero going home. Even if we live an apparently good life, there is often an underlying pervasive dissatisfaction and lack of fulfillment. We can make a distinction between belonging and fitting in. If we look for validation and feel like we don’t belong it’s because we don’t belong to ourselves. Self-assurance comes from inside, whereas confidence is something we put on for others. Being offended poisons us and manipulates others. Without our transformation, there can be no transformation of the world. We can experiment with expressing urges to say or do things, which may make a difference. There is a distinction between impulsive and intuitive urges. Juanita Violini is an artist and writer/producer of interactive mystery entertainment who has been a student of the spiritual path for over 35 years.

Your Life Is a Tree (Mary Angelon Young and Regina Sara Ryan)

If we put aside concepts, we really don’t know what a tree is. It’s a mystery of creation. The tree of life is a universal archetypal symbol. African, Celtic, Norse, and Cabala trees of life are discussed. Trees are a portal into appreciation of life and nature. Walking in a forest, we can feel sacred space. The decimation of trees and forests is also heartbreaking. It’s important to connect to and respect all beings, including trees. The three parts of a tree—roots, trunk and branches, and crown—are considered metaphorically. Our roots, including belief systems we’ve inherited, are useful to revisit. Gender, cultural, historical, and familial roots sometimes need pruning. Trees have interconnected root systems and are not separate from other trees. We grow together and absorb from others. The heartwood near the center of the trunk is analogous to the stored wisdom we gather through experience. The lifeblood of the tree moves to and from the leaves. Every tree has a pattern which can be seen in its rings. We all have patterning and go through cycles as trees do. Being aware of our patterns opens us to the call of our heart. Individuation, a term used by Jung, is an ordeal of growth. There is stability in the trunk and effortless expansiveness in the branches. The crown produces shade, berries, seeds, and fruits which are shared. We can honor our outpouring and what we affect in the world. Seeds contain a legacy, the thing that comes next. The fruit of life is about realizing our immortality. The seed is perfect, despite a tree’s twistedness due to environmental conditions. Creativity is a way to take refuge in our being. The practice of praise counterbalances hatred and polarization. Mary Angelon Young is an author and workshop leader with a background in Jungian psychology. Regina Sara Ryan, who was the editor of Hohm Press for 35 years, is an author, workshop leader, and retreat guide.

Quietude Disturbs the Brain (Lalitha)

In spiritual practice, quietude is a deeply desirable, nourishing nutrient. Most practitioners find quieting the mind to be very difficult. It takes a lot of stamina and strength to stop ourselves from being habitually drawn to the stimulus of contention or disruption through distractions such as the news and social media. We can start with basic practices. The human being craves constant stimulus even if it’s painful. The urgency for stimulus has been researched in studies which show that many people intentionally give themselves electric shocks rather than spend 15 minutes in quietude. The wisdom heart, the intuitive mind held in the heart, signifies the context that we can access and root in that affects choices we make in business and life. The vagus nerve is the nerve of quietude in the human body. We can start a habit of turning on the vagus nerve reflex. It is helpful in going on retreat to set a clear intention and schedule. Good company on the path refers to those with willingness and centered calmness who we can borrow from if we feel collapsed. It is an extraordinary asset for practitioners. When strong and steady, we can hold up and help companions in personal crisis, without losing our seat, which is not fixing or rescuing. Quietude is the root of being and a priceless treasure. It is not stagnant but is very interactive and juicy. It’s important to produce relationship as a fruit of sadhana, even if no one is around. We can be eaten up by entities that live off emotional food produced by the distractions of life today. Do we have the ability to choose quietude over distraction? We can’t do anything about others but can be that which produces presence and makes quietude a committed priority. Lalitha is a spiritual teacher with an ashram in British Columbia, Canada, who was empowered by her master Lee Lozowick in 1998. Her books include Waking to Ordinary Life and Cultivating Spiritual Maturity.

The Benefits of Recapitulation Practice and How to Engage It (Rick Lewis)

Every time we tell a story, something new can enter our heart. Sharing a story with others can help us regain a piece of our humanity. Being in the present and letting go of the past can be a spiritual ideal, but if we trace back things that happened we may find buried aspects of ourselves. A spiritual act can pave over the past. Rick tells stories of his experience with recapitulation, of being an entertainer at corporate events, and of starting an online writing group. Looking at the past can bring us into relationship with what has actually been and allow for healing. The reality we’re in is only apparently separate from the past and future. Ego wants to create distance between who we want to be and who we are. There is joy in being honest with oneself and others. Sometimes we don’t want to write about ourselves or see what has gone on. Sharing life stories is group recapitulation practice, which is bonding. When our experience is acknowledged by another person, we get to integrate it. If it is toxic, it is defused when held by the matrix of a writing community. We generally don’t open to the present because we’re too busy surviving it. Taking time to recall what transpired, we live it for the first time. What’s important is doing the work of being undefended to our truth. Once that occurs, the benefit of being around a person—whether a teacher or not—is felt and their past is irrelevant. In looking at the past, we get clues about how our machine works and also get to remember the beautiful, sublime gifts we’ve been given. It’s possible to review the past to solidify a sense of self, which isn’t helpful on the path; yet we may be blind-sided by parts of ourselves we seek distance from. The internal work we all do is unique. Rick Lewis is a national speaker and the author of 7 Rules You Were Born to Break, The Perfection of Nothing, You Have the Right to Remain Silent and other books.

Sensation: The Language of the Body (Naomi Worob)

As a culture, we are disconnected from our bodies. In school, we learn to meet standards outside of ourselves and to listen less and less to our bodies. Messages of a hidden curriculum tell us that the body should be productive, emotions should be controlled, rest must be earned, and time is more important than natural rhythms. A controlled body cannot be a sensing body. Sensation is a way to connect to experience, feel our impulses, and take in information. Interoception is awareness of the sensation of the body. Awareness of sensations helps us regulate. Those attending the talk share about their experiences tracking sensations during exercises. The nervous system connects our internal body to the outside world. Distinctions between self-observation and interoception are considered. Sensations lead to impulses, movements, and expressions. Being a witness to our own experience equips us with tools to be with the fullness of life. As human beings, we tend to open to pleasurable sensations and to push away those that are unpleasant. We can intend to make our relationship to senses more neutral, to open our arms and heart to experience all sensation. Somatic experiencing training developed by Peter Levine uses the metaphor of life as a river. When regulated, our nervous system is in the flowing river of life. Eddies are created where we get stuck when overwhelmed. As we integrate overwhelming experiences, our banks widen and we open to a broader spectrum of emotions and the fullness of life. A simple exercise of butoh, a Japanese form of performance art synthesized in post-World War II Japan, is conducted. Naomi Worob is a student of the wisdom traditions and an artist, choreographer/director, and yoga teacher. She facilitates classes, workshops, retreats, and residencies that invite deep embodiment, creative expression, and authentic relating.