From the most recent Heron Dance e-Newsletter:

Writing at its best must come from deep within, for often that is where truth and originality lie; none comes entirely from the upper tenth of gray matter. It is when one reaches down into the dark realms of the past that great ideas surge forth.

—Sigurd F. Olson from Reflections From The North Country

When we follow the symbolic discipline of moving into the well of our Self, we find that we develop an increased capacity of inward perception. This capacity seems to be inherent in human beings and is a natural mode of awareness. Since it is inward, however, it tends to be little used in cultural situations where the individual’s attention is constantly being pressured by the outer environment. When, on the other hand, we establish an atmosphere that makes is possible for the attention to be turned inward in a quiet way, this capacity shows itself to be very actively and strongly present in persons who would have thought they did not possess it at all.

—Ira Progoff, from At a Journal Workshop

I think sometimes when we surround ourselves with people who think like us, we do not always grow as quickly as we could if we encountered dissenting views and challenging personalities. As of late, I’ve been attending training for my new job and I’m interacting with personalities I would never seek out on my own. Instead of getting annoyed with them, which would be an easy reaction, I have chosen instead to listen for the messages with which they’re undoubtedly presenting me.

My forced interactions with them, however uncomfortable, are teaching me valuable lessons and reminding me of others.

For example, one woman I’ve encountered second guesses everything our teacher says. I’m not kidding. My class cannot have a discussion about anything without her chiming in with a dissenting view. The class, in turn, squirms uncomfortably in their seats and groans, often out loud, whenever she begins. However, I think what she is doing is reminding us all that we cannot take everything someone in an authoritative position states as being fact. She’s showing us that there are a lot of hidden assumptions in our teacher’s commentary, and it’s good to pause and revisit those comments with fresh ears.

Another man in my class just quit his job. The class gasped when they heard this news, especially since his time in training would be cut short. However uncomfortable his decision made the class, (my hunch is that it is actually the secret desire of the majority to do the same), I chose to view his decision as a reminder to have courage under fire. I respect him for this decision because he decided that after working in that position for a year and being miserable in the process (especially since he had a 4 hour commute EACH DAY), life was too short to continue the job. I’m happy to report that he quickly found another job and now makes twice what he did at his former job!

My point? Instead of turning your ears off to those who make you most uncomfortable, why not open them up and listen for the lessons these individuals are giving you? You may receive similar teachings from your own circle of friends; however, they may not come as quickly as those which come from strangers.

What’s with American women? A day does not go by without either wishing my body looked different or hearing a woman voice a complaint about her own body. Some thin women want to be thinner, so do some curvaceous women; some thin women want more curves, while other curvaceous women want more curves, albeit in all the right places. It’s a never ending cycle of despair and dissatisfaction. Even I’m guilty of this negative self-talk, wishing my metabolism was quicker, my body tighter in certain sections. Sigh. What a mess we are! Women in America seem to spend more energy day-to-day on what’s wrong with their bodies than what’s right.

Along these lines, I don’t think I’ve encountered *a single woman* who was satisfied with the way her body looked, and I think this is especially evident among celebrities. Most recently, Nicole Kidman commented how she was dissatisfied with her lean form (though celebrated publicly for it), secretly wishing she possessed the curves of women like Jennifer Lopez. However, Jennifer Lopez has come under fire from the same media for actually possessing those curves.

What pains me is when I hear young girls, no older than eight years old, commenting about wanting to go on diets and needing to exercise more. For what? To look better on the playground? I just don’t understand what’s happening. What is the seat of this dissatisfaction? From where does it originate? Surely some of the blame can be placed on the shoulders and consciences of media moguls. Advertisements featuring skeletal women seem to be everywhere. They constantly bombard anyone who is looking at them with messages that promise success and wealth…all yours if you possess the “right” waistline. Commercials routinely advertise ways for women to look better and be more desirous to the opposite sex. Read: If only you do ____________ (fill in blank), then you’ll find acceptance, a partner, a life, etc…

Recently, one of Dove’s new ad campaigns caught my attention (thanks, Patia!). It’s called “Onslaught” and shows a young girl getting a rush of advertisements, encouraging her to use those products to be “thinner, smoother, lighter, etc..”. When I watched it, I realized how many of those products I could identify, having seen them often in print and visual media. ACK!

While Dove is doing something positive to help young girls and those who mentor/teach them achieve healthy self-esteems, I have to wonder what’s being done for the rest of us. What is it going to take for women to look in the mirror and love what they see?

I think it starts with a little experiment in self-love, and I think it can be achieved in two steps.

Step 1: I challenge all you women out there who read this blog (men, too) to find something about yourself that you just love. Is it your eyes? Skin? Height? Hair? Dimples? Lips? Arms? Feet?

Step 2: Once you’ve identified it, embrace it. Revel in it! Tell that part of you how much you love and admire it.

Now find something else that you love about you. Repeat Step 2. So on and so forth.

I think you get the idea. Instead of looking at your body like Enemy No. 1, why not befriend it instead? If you don’t like the shape of your thighs today, at least you have thighs you can comment upon. Some people don’t have any legs at all and would probably give anything to have yours just to be able to walk again. Here’s another thing…let’s say that you think your bum is too big. Well, why don’t you thank it for giving you excellent cushioning when you sit?! Consider this: some women are so bony that it actually hurts to sit down!

My point? Something needs to change with our thought processes, otherwise we’ll always be trying to achieve what other people tell us is acceptable rather than determine what’s acceptable to us instead. Perhaps the hardest part about all of this is that much of the work has be done ourselves. However, we can help other women in the process. Next time you see a woman with beautiful skin, instead of silently saying to yourself, “Wow…what great skin she has! I wonder what she uses.” Why not compliment her instead? I don’t know many women who refuse compliments! Bring ‘em on, I say!

The movement towards self-love may be slow, but I think it’s a step in the right direction! A very necessary step, if you ask me. To all the women out there: take ONE giant step forward! I double dog dare you!

What does it mean to be woman? Furthermore, what does it mean to be connected with the force I call the Divine Feminine? These are questions I’ve asked myself over and over again since leaving Montana. I know I’ve said it before, but indulge me just one more time: in Montana, I felt connected to this source. I *felt* feminine. I felt open and free to fully express myself. I felt untamed and uncaged. I could prowl the world around me unencumbered by societal concerns and judgments because I felt so fully connected to all aspects of myself and, therefore, to all aspects of others.

I attribute much of that feeling to the general vibe of the state of Montana. Perhaps because so much of it is wild and untamed, it allowed me to more easily access those wild, untamed sections of my own soul and being. I moved with a grace and ease I don’t necessarily have here. It’s still there; however, I think I’ve tucked it away in order to survive in this caffeinated, masculine, aggressive space in which I find myself. The voice which used to roar with power now seems to be just a dull whisper.

And, yet, I hear that voice so often during my days here. It is the voice of my soul which yearns to be heard, which yearns for expression and creativity, for laughter and joy, for complete wholeness and unity.

Recently, I’ve struggled with depression and have felt drained, exhausted, and a general sense of running on fumes, no matter how hard I’ve tried to rally and fight against it. The past few weeks have been better, and I think that being out of the office (due to some outside training) has played a large role. Removing myself from that toxic, aggressive environment has allowed me to feel at ease. There is now less stress and more happiness in each day. Of course, not all of this change can be attributed to a change in scenery. I think that much of it has to do with breakthroughs I’ve made in understanding myself. I look upon this depressed state with curiosity and interest because I think my inner self, my core, is trying to tell me something. I think it’s encouraging me to reconnect my feminine core.

I think for most women, we receive power and energy from this source. When we embrace our femininity, we allow ourselves to relax into gentle ways of being and relating to the world. Personally speaking, when I am connected to that feminine source of energy I feel more joy, happiness and energy. I also feel more whole, less fragmented and, most importantly, more heard.

However, now that I work for an aggressive, masculine company, I find that I tuck this sweet source of energy and power away in order to survive there. Every day, I bind up my hair, pull on neutral, classic suits, conservative pumps and matching, tasteful jewelry. When I’m conscious of how I feel when I get ready, I feel myself sighing with displeasure. What a pain it is to bind up so much of myself every day. If I had it my way, I’d loosen my hair, wear long flowing skirts, handmade jewelry and fun, quirky shoes. It is the latter description which captures my true self, not the former.

I am reminded of a poem entitled “Patterns” by Amy Lowell. There is a stanza which plays in my mind most mornings:

“I walk down the garden-paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jeweled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden-paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep”

So, I’ve decided I’m tired of being so out of touch with my feminine seat of power. I’m tired of locking up my very essence, my femininity, in order to survive at work. If work is so extreme, then it is time to balance it out with as much femininity as I can muster. I welcome back the force which cultivates grace, intuition and fluidity into my life. I seem to need it like air!

So, what have I done to reclaim it? First of all, I’ve taken up dance again, especially the more feminine forms, like belly dancing. Ballet and modern, too. I spent years dancing, but I have done very little in the past year. Tonight I danced for myself and ended up dancing for almost an hour in the privacy of my living room. It felt SO GOOD. SO POWERFUL. SO FULLY ALIVE.

Second, I’m learning how to use this life force to reawaken my latent creativity. My writing has improved and passages are coming more quickly to me. My body feels looser, more fluid and relaxed. A smile comes to my face more easily, too. My only regret is that Justin is not here to take it all in. (You’ll see the change soon enough, babe. Promise.)

Yasmina Khadra phrased this in the most wonderful way in Wolf Dreams:

“You are a Woman, Hanane. Do you realize what that means? Woman. You are everything, the mistress, the sister, the brains, the warmth of the earth and the mother, have you forgotten? The mother who bore Man in her belly, who brought him into the world in pain, suckled him, gave him love, confidence, taught him to speak, to walk…you, the great mother, the first smile, the first world, man’s first love” (p. 102).

I still have much to do, but it’s a start. Still, to all the women out there who read this blog, do yourself a favor, give yourself a big hug and check in with yourself. Are you connected to that seat of strength or have you locked it away? To the men who are reading this, ask yourselves how you can encourage this femininity to expand and grow in the women you love. Ask them what they need and welcome their words. The results would be mutually beneficial, methinks!

A few months back, I watched the movie “The Peaceful Warrior” based off the book by Dan Millman entitled The Way of the Peaceful Warrior. Without giving much away, both are about a young successful gymnast and the lessons he learns from an older man named Socrates. Below are some of my favorite quotes from the movie. May you find them as inspiring as I do.

“There’s never nothing going on. There are no ordinary moments.”

“A warrior acts, only a fool reacts.”

“A warrior is not about perfection or victory or invulnerability. A warrior is about absolute vulnerability. That’s the only true courage.”

I’ve been thinking lately about human relationships and how we often act as mirrors for one another, sometimes without even realizing we’re doing it. I have a very dear friend who does this all the time and is continually struck by how severely people react to him in the process. Some take the truths he reveals to them in stride, while others become belligerent and even downright mean.

Of course, they’re not really angry with him. They’re most likely just displacing whatever emotions they’re feeling upon realizing that they’re really seeing themselves instead.

Over the years, Ramadan and I have tried to understand why seeing ourselves, especially our shadow selves, is so challenging. We’ve drawn some conclusions but have asked many more questions without coming to any definite answers. Among those we’ve discussed are:

Why is it that we’re so afraid to see ourselves in others?
Why is that we react so powerfully upon recognizing that the shadow traits we’re seeing really belong to us?

Mirrors are powerful creations. They point out flaws, reveal our weaknesses and usually speak the truth. And, while the truth may set you free, sometimes it can be hard to swallow.

I revisited these conversations recently because I’ve been wondering lately how we can successfully mirror one another in the realm of romantic relationships. I’m working from the assumption that in healthy, loving, fulfilling relationships, the idea of mirroring can be used to foster personal growth in oneself and to forge deeping bonds with your beloved.

Mirrors don’t just reveal flaws; they also reveal that which is good. Seeing your best traits reflected back to you through your beloved can be an awesome spiritual experience. In this moment, you see the face of the Divine in yourself while you simultaneously view it in your partner. There is an incredible feeling of oneness which lingers long after the initial reflection was seen.

This, methinks, is one of the beautiful aspects of loving relationships and should be honored at every turn.

In the recent past, it wasn’t always so. This oneness which exists between partners has sometimes been manipulated for personal and selfish gain…sometimes by society and sometimes by the partners themselves.

In the first quarter of the 20th century, Virginia Woolf described the mirroring she saw occurring in male-female relationships in her book A Room of One’s Own. In it she writes:

“Women have served all these centuries as looking-glasses possessing the magic and delicious power of reflecting the figure of man at twice its natural size” (A Room of One’s Own, p. 35).

I believe, and not naively so, that there appears to be more equal reflection now in relationships between men and women. It seems to be even encouraged for partners to reveal their spiritual selves to each other, including their shadow selves, rather than concealing them. Again, healthy relationships provide that safe space which encourages us to throw open the curtains on those aspects we dislike most about ourselves and to allow the light of the other’s love for us to burn and chase the shadows and fog away.

This is what Justin has done for me. His love for me allows me to visit my shadow self and to make friends with her. Because I’ve been embarrassed by how I react under stress sometimes, it’s always been my first inclination to stuff the emotions which rise up in those moments into deep dark recesses of my spirit. It’s not that these emotions, in and of themselves are necessarily bad, but I qualify them as such when I deflect them and avoid their messages. It is I who draw shadows on my own self.

Justin, then, has taught me to listen without judgment to these messages, welcoming them into the light of my consciousness. In doing so, I am able to gain a feeling of wholeness rather than compartmentalization. I feel ONE with myself rather than SEPARATED. And, in turn, this oneness allows me to more fully and wholly connect with him.

Our relationship is better then because of the mirroring which occurs between us and, while it is not always easy to bear, it is always worth it and very much appreciated.

I just finished reading Jon Krakauer’s Into the Wild. It was recommended to me by a very good friend out in Montana who has spent many years traversing the backcountry of America’s West. I was fortunate to travel into some of this terrain with him on two occasions and have learned much from him in terms of survival skills, increasing my already healthy respect for the great outdoors.

The book chronicles the short life of Chris McCandless, a young man who left behind a loving family and promising future for the lure of the West. He eventually died of starvation in Alaska in 1992; however, the book does an excellent job of neutrally capturing how Chris arrived there and what may have led to his death.

When I confided in Carl that I was finally reading the book, he had much to say about it, reminding me, yet again, how important it is to always enter Nature prepared for everything and anything. He’s right. On our second expedition into the wilderness, I had packed in a sleeping bag that was guaranteed to keep me warm at 0 degrees Fahrenheit. However, after improperly storing it for a few years and after encountering colder weather than was expected, it would not keep me warm. My body temperature had already dropped during the day due to the wind and late arrival back at camp and by the time the sun went down, I was already shaking violently and feeling very, very cold. Carl laughs and jokes about it now, but if he had not spooned me, sharing his warmth upon noticing that I was in danger, I probably would’ve been in major trouble.

The point is that the wilderness, as lovely as it is, can also be dangerous and it’s always a good idea to know what you’re getting yourself into before you head out to explore its valleys and mountains.

Of course, I’ve always loved Nature, spending countless hours as a child playing in the woods near my home and running through sunkissed fields whenever I could. And, like Chris McCandless, this love of Nature grew exponentially upon my first encounter with the West, arriving under the guise of Montana, in the early 90s.

My sister and I would spend parts of summers riding bikes, swimming and hiking in and around the small town of Seeley Lake, MT. And, I think it’s fair to say that neither one of us had ever known such beauty or contentment before; it was addictive. Nestled about an hour north of Missoula, Seeley Lake had become my aunt’s adopted home and it quickly became ours, too. In college, I continued my love affair with Montana, even dating a young man from Helena, Montana my freshman year, visiting him there on one of my summer trips.

During later years, I would travel to Montana in the late winter and cross country ski on a frozen Seeley Lake, marveling at the density of the ice and allowing the sun to heat my body. A few years ago, I returned to Montana and did a week long backcountry hiking and camping trip with my then boyfriend, Erik. I was petrified! I had never camped a day in my life, and, as much as I loved the outdoors, the thought of trekking through Grizzly Country was terrifying. After seeing two bears on the first day (one being a Griz), I crawled into the tent, had a panic attack and seriously considered scratching the trip.

I stuck it out (much to the delight of Erik) and came to enjoy myself and the silence and simplicity the backcountry offered. Aside from almost falling off a mountain cliff, caught and saved by Erik, I considered the trip one of the best things I’ve done in my life. I went well past my comfort zone, was tested by Nature and survived, relishing the surreal beauty around me with every step. It was this feeling that came to me again while out traversing the Beartooths with Carl this past summer. Though not as well known as Yellowstone and the Tetons, it is one of the most breathtaking slices of country I’ve ever seen, even rivaling Glacier National Park.

Even now I can close my eyes and feel the icy wind on my cheeks, the bluebirds which greeted us in the morning near our tent and the carpets of wildflowers we crossed as we roamed around the area. It was lovely.

I say all of this because it highlights the addictive quality of the West, and I found myself understanding the impetus behind Chris McCandless’s trek into the wild as recounted by Jon Krakauer.

I don’t want to spoil the book or the recently released movie by saying much more about it here. However, I would like to leave you with these words in the hope that they may inspire you to read this story and to safely find your own slice of Nature to explore:

“It is easy, when you are young, to believe that what you desire is no less than what you deserve, to assume that if you want something badly enough, it is your God-given right to have it. When I decided to go to Alaska that April, like Chris McCandless, I was a raw youth who mistook passion for insight and acted according to an obscure, gap-ridden logic. I thought climbing the Devils Thumb would fix all that was wrong with my life. In the end, of course, it changed almost nothing. But I came to appreciate that mountains make poor receptacles for dreams. And I lived to tell my tale” (p. 155).

I’ve been a reading machine lately, partly because I love reading and partly because I promised Justin I would read all the books (think HUGE stack) on my bedside stand before he came back to the US. It helps pass the time, and, in the meantime, I’m learning and mulling over so much.

Recently, I just finished Noam Chomsky’s latest book in which he combines his thoughts with those of Gilbert Achcar. The book is entitled: Perilous Power: The Middle East and U.S. Foreign Policy. ‘Tis a fascinating read, and I couldn’t help but pull out quotes which struck me as being ripe for discussion. You’ll find them below. Do send comments, as I’m curious to learn how they strike you.

On Fundamentalism and Democracy:

Chomsky: “As in the United States, for example? The United States is one of the most fundamentalist countries in the world and has long been, and one of the few functioning voting blocs here is the extreme fundamentalists, who out of either cynicism or belief have a big effect on the administration. You can see it all over the place. Do you know any other countries where there are struggles going on over whether you’re allowed to say that humans weren’t created 6,000 years ago? I don’t know if there’s any other country in the world where that goes on.” (p. 46)

On the Holocaust:

Chomsky: “Before 1967 there were no Holocaust museums, there was none of the later adulation of Elie Wiesel, none of this stuff. It all picked up as a means of justifying the Israeli occupation; it became a huge business. Every city in the United States has to have a Holocaust museum, not a slavery museum, not a Native American museum, but a Holocaust museum. Why? Is it because of concern about the Holocaust? If it was, why wasn’t something done for the victims in the 1940s?” (p. 203)

On Racism:

Achcar: “Of course, one should make a distinction between the racism of the weak and the racism of the strong - the anti-White racism of the Black South Africans under apartheid cannot be equated with White anti-Black racism.” (p. 209)

On Anti-Arab Racism and Islamophobia:

Chomsky: “In the United States, it’s really the last legitimate form of racism. You don’t have to try to cover it up. You may be racist toward other groups, but you have to pretend you aren’t. In the case of anti-Arab racism, there’s no pretense required. The things I mentioned before are a perfect example: Distinguished Harvard professors produce statements that you would regard as hideously racist if they were aimed at any other target - Jews: impossible; Blacks, Italians, any of them: unacceptable - but if you say them about Arabs, it’s fine. Jack Shaheen is one scholar who’s done a lot of research on images of Arabs in the cinema. It’s grotesque, right up to the present day. There’s not even much to say about it; it’s open, it’s considered natural and normal that you should be an anti-Arab racist. Nobody will use the term for it, but it’s the kind of attitude and discourse that we would regard as hideously racist if it was directed at any other target. It’s all over the place.” (p. 211)

Achcar: “Islamophobia is based on fear, as the etymology of the term indicates. It grows in a specific and complex manure: the many anxieties created by neoliberal social and economic deregulation, seeking scapegoats through a well-known psychological phenomenon, compounded by the fear instilled in Western public opinion by governments unwilling to give the true answer to the much-asked question: Why do “they” hate us?” (p. 213)

I am a tea afficiando.

Truly.

I drink several cups a day depending on the mood in which I find myself. Given that sometimes my inner seas are stormy and mercurial, this means several different types per day.

When I was in graduate school at Yale, I fell in love with Honest Tea. It was a relatively new company back then, but I liked their ethics and their products and would buy in bulk. One order, in particular, was lost and when I wrote the company to inquire where it was, one of the CEOs wrote me back and told me the shipment was on its way. He noticed my Yale email account and also being affiliated with Yale, as a professor at the Yale School of Management, he asked me if I’d like to do some sampling for them. They’d pay me about $10 an hour to go around giving out samples of the company’s products at grocery stores in the CT region.

I was definitely tempted by the prospect but felt overwhelmed with my studies and turned them down. I regret it now, of course.

Still, I buy their products and continue to love them…feeling good about supporting a company which ethically harvests their tea and gives back to local and Native American communities, among others, in the process.

Today, after a rocky afternoon, I purchased some Honest Ade. Not quite tea but not quite a sports drink either. For the record, the Orange Mango with Mangosteen is delicious and not very sweet…just the way I like it.

The backside of the label said this:

Patience also isn’t much of a virtue when it comes to changing the world - take matters into your own hands - plant a tree (arborday.org), donate blood (givelife.org), find a way to get involved with something you care about. Or find something new to care about at coopamerica.org.

It made me smile…

that was enough.

Like life itself, I’m evolving. My concept of self, the “I”, is dying, and I’m embracing a new identity I’m affectionately calling “we”. My new favorite thing to do is to use “we” in sentences now, partly because it just feels *so right*, i.e. Justin was in DC last week and “we” strolled through a park, saying ‘hello’ to the faces “we” found in the trees.

Yep, that’s right…I’m in love with a wonderful man and plan on marrying him June 28, 2008 in E. Helena, Montana. I’m further ecstatic about permanently cementing this new found “WE” identity through our “WE”dding. Hee, hee. Couldn’t resist!

Okay, the point is that I’m just really giddy about merging with this lovely soul who is now studying in London for his Ph.D. While the geographic distance is certainly there, I am happy he’s in London, fulfilling his dreams and desires in life AND, when I am very still, I can feel him here with me, too.

My evolution, then, is that I’m dying to the separateness that the “I” identity holds and am now merging with Justin, creating a oneness between us, which I hope we will spread to others. Pablo Neruda has a lovely sonnet which speaks of this:

…I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep

(Sonnet XVII, 100 Love Sonnets, p. 39).

Mark Nepo in his book The Exquisite Risk describes how the Egyptians viewed relationship as an art:

“In looking at their hieroglyphs, relationship is depicted as the invisible painting which exists between people. It makes deep sense. For isn’t love the invisible painting that exists between us? …all of our stories, all of our laughter, all of our waking in the night to rescue each other - all of it is an epic mural that is nowhere to be pointed to, though I can see it as if it were all happening this instant. This is the power of true relationship: It keeps us close to the pulse of life” (p. 150).

With Justin, I feel close to that pulse of life…more so now than I ever have. It’s warm…like being home…like traversing the grounds of being in which we are, and always have been, one. And while Gibran might be right that we should have “spaces in our togetherness”, there’s something to be said for dancing in oneness, especially when it benefits others.

‘Tis my wish for us, at least.

For J: liomsa mo ghra mise agus