Clear Path to Peace

When Jesus walked the planet, he didn’t have a plan to create a massive holiday of gift-giving…complete with stressed out gift givers.  Jesus came to remind us of our eternal holiness, our pure innocence, and the love of God for each one of us.

That is what I receive from his message, anyway.  What do you receive?

This Holy Day season, let’s remember that it is a season of peace.

This means that we can be peaceful about the season! We don’t need to create anxiety about buying stuff, or whether or not we’ve given “enough” to our kids or family members.  Even children who are used to getting a lot of presents can be re-trained to value gratitude, service to others, and simple (maybe handmade) gifts instead of the mountains of plastic they expect. Re-training ourselves and our children is going to take some work and inner fortitude. I know we can do it – if we commit to it.

This isn’t simply a stress management issue. In addition to our emotional health, we need to safeguard the resources of our beautiful planet. So cutting back on Christmas consumerism is an essential environmental issue as well.

Peace is our birthright. It is our very nature. We’ve lost track of that, and Christmas stress is a great barometer for how far we can lose ourselves in the expectations and habits of consumer society. But we can divorce ourselves from the madness, and claim the simplicity of true Christ consciousness.  It is within us, every moment of every day. Let’s find it together.

Merry Christmas!

It was summer.  I was on a river trip with a group of women; all of us adventuring together on the Klamath River in far northern California, near the Oregon border.  I was paddling my kayak, happy with the day, the beauty, and the sunshine.

Underneath, though, I was worried.  What if I get tossed?  Every serious river runner has to deal with this fear at some point or other.  I’d been kayaking the Klamath for years and had voluntarily jumped in plenty of times. I’d also been quite handy with my kayak, managing to stay in the boat through countless rapids.  I’d only “gone swimming” once before, years ago. I knew that at some point, the river would take my little body and propel it out of the boat, because that is just how it is. You can’t do a lot of river rafting without that experience, and the more I kayaked, the closer I came to the inevitable.

I was lucky – the day was warm. Coming up to a class 3 rapid, I paddled hard in preparation.  I needed to align my boat with the perfect slot in the rocks ahead. As usual during river rafting, the slightest drop in my concentration would be my undoing.  I looked quickly to “river right”, making sure to avoid overhanging branches, then put my attention back on the slot ahead of me.  But that glance cost me one micro-second too many, and the river wasn’t waiting for me. I went over the rapid and into the river so fast I couldn’t even think about it. I was swimming, and I had no choice.  I was wet, the water was moving, and my boat was bobbing somewhere close by.
Here’s the magical part: after the first shock of surprise, I realized that the Klamath River was embracing me. I felt absolutely safe in its arms of love, and I began to cry. My salty tears met the river water and we celebrated the truth that, in that moment, there was nothing wrong, nothing scary, nothing to be avoided…just warm water carrying me downstream.

The river was so strong and steadfast! Except for my upturned face and knobby knees, it completely covered my body. It took me. I relaxed into the safety of it, still crying with relief and new understanding. It was a moment I will never forget.

River rafting can be a dangerous sport. Every toss from a boat will not be as ecstatic as the experience I had that summer day.  Just the same, I gained a powerful lesson from the Klamath. It taught me about the river of love, the river of life itself.  All of my fears, hesitations and assumptions were exposed and laid bare in one moment of my heart’s relief, when I got wet and realized they were not true. The lesson moved me because I was so aware of the metaphor: this water was alive and teaching me to trust – just as the water of every moment is also wet and alive and welcomes my trust, even if it doesn’t look like I’m in a river any more. I am. It is the river of life.  That day, I found out it’s also the river of love.

In the last few days, I’ve come even deeper into a realization about the connection between anger, violence and sadness. It is grief that lurks behind destruction…and the willingness to feel and release sadness is the cure and the balm for our pain.

Where does this grief come from, you ask? It grows from our collective refusal to live in accordance with Divine Love and its ways: union, blessing, expansion, mercy, comfort and caring for each other and our beautiful green planet. There is a shared, tragic and fearful howling that is constantly baying a mournful melody beneath our sleepy awareness. This is the grief I’m talking about, although we rarely recognize it and even more rarely give ourselves some breathing room to feel it.

I recently came across a short Buddhist tale about a monk who was crying at his master’s grave. When asked by a traveler, “Why are you crying? I thought you were enlightened!” the monk replied, “Because I am sad.” (from Everyday Grace, by Marianne Williamson)

When I read these poignant words, I thought about how much violent behavior could be transformed if we really take this story to heart. Just think – if we all gave ourselves permission to feel sad – what would our world be like?

We’d no longer answer, “Fine” to the ubiquitous question “How are you?”

Instead, we might say, “Oh, I’m feeling the tender stabbing and ripping feeling of my heart as it opens to grief.” Then we’d both pause, and take a breath together, standing by each other as we released our sadness into pools of trust and love. And it wouldn’t have to be a problem, or a drama, or a cheerleading session — just a quiet recognition of suffering as it appears here on Earth.

We could breathe and relax and feel together, and then feel a whole lot better, and closer. We’d go on about our days with more creative energy and more compassion for the next sisters and brothers who came along…and when we asked them, “How are you?” we’d pause to listen to the ringing truth of an answer that might, or might not, contain some sadness or discomfort of any kind.

I hold a vision of this world where joy, elation, fear and sadness are recognized as inner markers for how close we are feeling to God at any moment. If we want to feel closer, then we simply release our grief and in doing so, make room to expand our joy.

Notice how no violence of any kind is necessary or desired in this honest world. Connections between us just dance deeper, until someday, we’ll be done with releasing grief and the forgiveness of all deeds will be complete. The At-Onement, which lives eternally inside us, will be manifest on Earth, and we will notice that we’ve created a garden, you and me….a delightful, heavenly garden of peace.

It’s holiday time again, and some of us are ecstatic….and some of us are not. Holidays are usually a time when memories and emotions reappear from childhood, and they aren’t always the easiest ones to negotiate. Even if we are not consciously aware of it, longings and expectations about what “family” is, or what “Christmas” or “New Year” are supposed to be, can affect us heavily in our emotional lives.

Many of us experience a lot of stress around this time of year – triggered by lack of sunlight during the dark winter solstice, or our mounting credit card bills, or from family dynamics that often play out during “festive” gatherings. Fortunately, there is help, and it is easy. All it takes is using something we already have – our breath.

As a peace educator, I have a lot of respect for using our breath as a tool to center ourselves, and to feel more grounded and calm. If you notice that you are feeling anxious in any way, take some time…a few moments…to become aware of your breath. Notice yourself, your body, your thoughts. Probably, you are holding your breath or not breathing very deeply. So stop your busyness – and give yourself the gift of a deep breath. Or two. Or five. Fill your belly and your lungs. Allow your entire torso to fill with good oxygen on the inhale and empty fully on the exhale.

One really helpful point about tuning in to your breath is to be especially aware of the difference between your inhale and your exhale. They are two separate parts of one breath, and you can use them for different needs. For relaxation and stress reduction, use the exhale as your point of focus. Try breathing out about twice as long as you breathe in. So if you inhale for two counts, exhale for four. Next breath, experiment with inhaling for three counts and exhaling for six. Remember to exhale very slowly and evenly. Take as long as you want to get to the end of your breath. As you are exhaling, you will be lowering your heart rate, releasing tension from your muscles, and enlivening your blood. Your head will clear, and you’ll be able to handle your holiday office party much, much better.

Hope this helps. When I teach the good men in San Quentin Prison, they often remark upon how much this simple relaxing breath technique helps them. I figure if it works for them, in an intense place like San Quentin, it can work for you and me.

Try it, and let me know how it goes. Happy Holy Days!