Posts Tagged ‘authenticity’

Towards an Evolving Wholeness, Part 1

February 19, 2014

What do I mean when I use the term “evolving wholeness” and refer (as I did in “Shadowland, Part 2”) to seeking a sense of wholeness? Words are slippery things, and nowhere is that more true than when using them in a psycho-spiritual context. Do I mean “authentic”? Yes, authenticity begins to get at it. But if being authentic is being genuine, true, and a real representation of something/someone, then true to what, a real representation of what? And does being genuine encompass enough? For that matter, does “whole” quite get at it?

I want to be clear about this before delving into the issue of how one accomplishes this sense of wholeness. The kind of authenticity or wholeness I am pointing at (and we can only manage the equivalent of pointing at the moon here) is one that represents the person as both fully human and thoroughly divine. It is the self exposed, without layers of persona, with the shadow revealed, with the dysfunctional parts in the process of being healed. We’re human. There will be some persona. There will be some shadow. There will be some dysfunction. But when we are seeking an evolving wholeness, we are seeking to become as true to pure soul in flesh as possible. And it is evolving because we are not fixed, but evolving.

Another way of saying this is that when we are evolving in wholeness, we emanate (not approximate, not give the appearance of, but emanate) more of what I believe is the prima materia of the universe: love.

In my model of the way things work, there is no one route to wholeness, no single right way to become the highest human version of ourselves. The road back to ourselves is the same road we took when we fled ourselves, and that road is unique for everyone. But there are some time-tested methods that may be helpful to the pilgrim on that road. And this will be the subject matter for the next few posts.

Two very simple things can help anyone on that road. They may not meet the test of sufficiency, but they could easily be considered requisite. They are centering/grounding and clearing. I have discussed both of these in earlier posts (centering and grounding in a January 16, 2009 post and hucha clearing in a January 31, 2010 post), but they warrant a repeat discussion. They are that important.

When asked, many people will say that they know how to center and ground. But I have often had the experience of being met with silence when I ask a person who says they know about centering and grounding for the specifics of how they do that. I’m going to provide a very stripped down, simple version of it here.

Centering and Grounding

• Stand in a relaxed posture, spine straight, knees soft. (Once you have learned how to center and ground in a standing position, you will find that it is easy to also center and ground from a seated position. Just be sure your spine is straight and your feet connect with the floor or earth.) Close your eyes if you wish.
• Notice your breathing. Allow it to become relaxed. Allow your belly to expand on the in-breath and contract on the out-breath, but don’t work at it. Just relax into it.
• Turn your attention to that part of your body that is about two inches below your navel and just in front of your spine. This is your center. Just turning your attention to it will center you.
• Now, maintaining the awareness and stability of being centered, imagine that you are a tree. Image your roots going deep into the earth. Feel the solidity of your tree self, stretching upwards to the sky and sinking deep into the earth. Nothing can uproot you easily. You are well anchored. You are grounded.
• Take a moment to feel the power of being centered and grounded before returning your attention to the larger world around you. Bring that sense of being centered and grounded with you.

There are many ways to clear yourself energetically, mentally, emotionally, and/or physically. Here is one simple way to clear yourself energetically.

Clearing

• Stand or sit in a relaxed posture, with your spine straight and feet flat on the floor or earth. Center and ground.
• Feel or imagine your energy body, the bubble of energy that surrounds and is a part of your physical body. Notice anything that is dark, heavy, cloudy, overly hot or cold, or otherwise less than vibrant and healthy.
• Allow your crown chakra (the energy center at the top of your head) to open. Invite pure, divine energy to permeate your energy body, traveling from your head downward, taking anything that is dark, heavy, cloudy, overly hot or cold, or otherwise less than vibrant and healthy with it.
• Let that pure, divine energy carry the energetic debris all the way down your body and out through your feet, traveling past floors or ground, deep into the earth. Know that Mother Earth will gladly take this energetic debris and transform it into clear, pure, usable energy.
• Allow that clear, pure energy to rise up from Mother Earth and permeate your body.
• Continue this process until you feel clear. Express gratitude to the source of the pure, divine light and to Mother Earth.

These two practices will not, by themselves, take you all the way on the road back to yourself, but they can help you make your way back and help you stay on that path, moving along. They are self-validating. You will be able to experience the positive effects of employing them.

If you are already on the path towards evolving wholeness, perhaps you will recognize me on your way. If you are not yet on the path, step onto it and join us.

Copyright 2014 by Melanie Mulhall

Advertisements

Getting Out of the Cocoon, Part 2

August 25, 2013

What kind of questions do we begin to ask? Many of us—maybe most of us—don’t begin with broad, sweeping questions: Who am I? Why am I here? What is the nature of reality? These are not the questions that usually first confront us when we finally pause and pay attention. No. The questions we begin to ask ourselves are often much narrower, much closer to our everyday lives: Why did I snap at her when she said that to me? What now (that I’m divorced/have lost my job/have retired)? Why am I sad/angry/empty/unfulfilled/anxious right now (or all the time)? Who am I trying to please by doing this? Where should I look for an answer to this problem? When will I finally find some peace?

These are the kinds of questions that begin to plow up the soil in the field of your life. But whether you just scratch the surface or plow deeply depends, in part, on whether you return to the same defensive strategies you’ve been using as you pursue the answers to your questions.

Why did I snap at her when she said that to me? The answer might be one of the following: Because she’s an idiot. Because this is really none of her business. Because she keeps nagging about that. Because she’s wrong. Because I know more about this than she does. Because she just doesn’t know what I’m up against. Any of those might be perfectly rational answers on any given occasion. Or they might have seemed perfectly rational at one time, but not now.

You may begin catching yourself in the act of responding in all too familiar ways that are predictable and either feel more defensive than rational or don’t feel representative of your best. And when you catch yourself recognizing something old and a little bit putrid in your answers, you can bet that there is at least one dead body in that field you’re beginning to plow—probably more than one. And however many there are, they are all you, versions of yourself it’s time to heal and integrate in the bid for power (in shamanic terms) that is a movement towards wholeness.

There is gold in that field you’re plowing, but it is probably not sitting close to the surface. You may have to plow deep. You may find yourself beginning with a timeworn answer, one you’ve trotted out again and again, probably with different people and in different circumstances. Then you stop. You discern a sense of futility to the answer, or discomfort, or hollowness. You may even have a sense of déjà vu. The answer you begin to give may feel true, in part, but shallow. Something in you is no longer satisfied with the same old answer.

If your skin begins to crawl and you realize you don’t actually have an answer, that very sense of “no answer” may feel like a black hole. And actually, that’s not a bad way to look at it.

At the risk of mixing metaphors with abandon (the field of your life with astronomical black holes), consider the black hole for a moment. I’m no scientist, so this is going to be expressed in the simplest of terms. A black hole is formed when a huge star is “dying.” It collapses and its matter gets squeezed into a small space. It becomes very dense and has immense gravity. It has such gravitational force, in fact, that its escape velocity (the speed needed to break away from that gravitational pull) is faster than the speed of light.

Well, sort of. You see, scientists talk about event horizons with black holes. The outer event horizon is at the edge of a black hole. If you were there, you could escape the gravitational pull. But the inner event horizon, which is in the middle layer of the black hole, has a gravitational pull too strong to escape. So we have the outer layer and the middle layer. “What’s in the center?” you ask. Thanks for asking. The center of a black hole is called the singularity. It is that very dense collapsed star. There’s no escaping that.

What does this have to do with the field of your life you’re beginning to plow with those questions? Everything, actually. Think of the center of the black hole, the singularity (a beautiful term when used as I’m about to), as your authentic self, the core of your being, your essential self without all the pain and unhealed issues. In short, you minus the baggage. That core has a gravitational pull that, once you have stepped beyond the outer event horizon, is inescapable.

When you begin to ask questions, you have arrived at the outer event horizon of your personal black hole. You can still escape the gravitational pull, but to do so, you will have to return to the same defense strategies that ultimately gave rise to the questions. If you begin to challenge your usual answers to those questions, you are mighty close to stepping beyond the outer event horizon. And when you do that, everything begins to change. You’re pulled right into that black hole. It’s scary, but you’re heading towards . . . the singularity.

To be continued.

Copyright 2013 by Melanie Mulhall

Don’t Leave the Old Road for a New One, Part 3

April 8, 2013

By the time we’re in midlife, if we’re lucky, we’re so exhausted with maintaining the persona that we want to find our way back home. And back home is to that body we thought was dead, but isn’t.

I’m not simply speaking about all of this from the standpoint of observer. This is not just intellectualization. I have experience with it from the inside out. I had my own version of a dysfunctional childhood. I was a good student because, at least in part, “being smart” was a very helpful persona component. I created such a good persona that my own family didn’t know just how bad my first marriage was until I left it—ten and a half years into it. My persona attracted friends and male companions. My personal defenses against abuse, abandonment, poverty, fear of incompetence, and the suspicion that I would be found seriously lacking if I wasn’t perfect contributed to my achieving some useful things, like a couple of swell degrees and some business success. But they also made me a little brittle and a little less than consistently fun to be with for friends, lovers, and those supervised by me. Among other things, I could be moody, insecure, and a demanding boss.

I began my journey home—my journey back to myself—at an age when some people are still running down the road away from the dead body. Still, it took years to get as far away from myself as I was, and it has taken years to make my way back to myself. I’ve often speculated that we spend the first half of our lives becoming dysfunctional and, if we’re paying attention, we spend the second half of our lives undoing that dysfunction.

The admonition to not leave the old road for a new one is, as I have come to understand it, a wise bit of guidance to find your way back to yourself by facing, clearing, and healing everything within that is dysfunctional and inauthentic. That means stripping the persona down, dismantling the inappropriate boundaries, and rediscovering who you are at your core.

But what would leaving the old road for a new one be like? It would be an attempt to recreate yourself (often at midlife) by dismissing the ways in which you have made yourself up to this point—more or less trying to sail right over them—and simply trying to walk a more functional path without a backward glance at the path you spent all those years traveling down.

It’s temping, to be sure, and it’s what we think about when we speak of “starting fresh” or “starting over.” But according to my friend Jorge Luis Delgado, Peruvian chacaruna (“bridge person”—essentially, shaman), the Inca view the future as behind them, not in front of them. Why? For at least a couple of reasons, actually. First, we humans have eyes that face forward. We can see what is in front of us, but not what is behind us. And since we cannot see the future, it can be considered behind us. But perhaps more important, the future will be our past if we become enmeshed in our past, disdain our past, or otherwise refuse to accept and deal with it. And that is why we should not leave the old road for a new one.

Copyright 2013 by Melanie Mulhall