Mystic Cookie

 

For years, copying other people, I tried to know myself.

From within, I couldn’t decide what to do.

Unable to see, I heard my name being called.

Then I walked outside.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don’t go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don’t go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

Where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

Don’t go back to sleep.

-Rumi

The Sufi poet Rumi often wrote in lyrical words about the musings of the spirit, a true mystic of his time.  In this piece, he implores the reader not to go back to sleep. Not the physical state of sleep but rather the spiritual condition of sleep. The answers we seek are often right here in the area between the other and the now.  This is the doorsill that Rumi speaks of. We so often choose to ignore what we know to be true instead, pressing on in our stubborn ignorance. Many times this manifests itself in moments of indecision or of choices that steer our life in a direction away from our purpose. I like to call these moment’s spiritual axis points on the grid of life. Only upon reflection can one look back and see that the decisions have taken them down a path that was extremely difficult. Spiritual axis points exist in everyone’s life. We are always drawn to the light but are given free choice. This provides the soul with fertile ground for learning opportunities.

I have been on a long journey of awakening myself.  I recall one of my own spiritual axis points that steered me on a path that would continue for two decades of my life. I was living in North Carolina as a young mother of two beautiful children.  Married at nineteen after becoming pregnant, I was thrust into a relationship that would represent a long period of unrest for me. I had not learned yet how to find my voice and deferred to my husband on most things. A troubled and intense man, I often fell into the role of a stabilizing force to balance his intensity.

A demonstration of this would be the time in which he made the quick and independent decision to move out West, reconnecting with some former teachers in a bid to gain momentum in his career. This was a cross-country move away from the support network I had built and my family who lived in Florida. Moving to North Carolina had taken me further away from my home base, my family. I didn’t want to believe it then, but this new move was a way to control my voice, my growing independence as a woman.

On our last evening in town, it was decided that we should stop by a student’s home and say goodbye. This was a surprise as he tended to move along with little warning, in an effort to leave behind the strained relationships he had fostered. That evening was very dark and the family happened to live on a quiet country road flanked on both sides by dense cornfields. After our visit, tired, we headed out on the road on the way home to prepare for our trip the following day. Driving through the cornfield in the dark was eerie and the silence was deafening.  Suddenly, in the pool of our headlights something large appeared on the road. My husband slammed on the brakes and sat frozen in the middle of the road in complete shock.  Directly in front of us was an owl as tall as the headlights of our car. It sat in the middle of the road on the yellow lines with intently focused eyes. I cannot explain the feeling of that moment. The owl looked at us as if to say, “This road should not be traveled”. It was clearly not afraid of us and sat with no intention of moving. My husband decided to carefully drive around the owl and as we did the owl turned its head and looked right at me through the passenger side window. I knew this animal was looking at me, through me and saw what was in my soul. It was a heavy omen that I tried desperately to ignore.

More importantly, my husband’s father had assigned all of his children spirit animals in honor of their Indian heritage. His spirit animal happened to be the owl. The message could not have been more direct. STOP, this road leads only to pain and sadness! Unbeknownst to me, my husband had already begun an inappropriate relationship with one of our ballet students who would be making the trip out West with us to audition for ballet programs in Utah. In my ignorant world, I was not equipped to see this as it was. I simply saw another instance of my family helping out yet another young dancer by taking them in, something we did quite often. I was immersed in my own reality, raising children, in a difficult relationship along with my general unease with life to see the truth.

Ignoring the message and against my better judgment, we headed out the next day with the young women in question and began the journey that would culminate many years later in tragedy and a true dark period in my life. Looking back, I am baffled by my unwillingness to see things as they were. I sensed there was something going on with the young women and my husband, but I choose the path of ignorance. This spiritual axis point went unheeded and the result could have been predicted by anyone as witness.

Why do we do this? When faced with important decisions in our life, we become adverse to the process. We choose by not choosing, we speak by not speaking.  As a mother, I have told my children that the right path is usually the most difficult and I have found this to be true. Even with this, they still choose the easy way and have difficult experiences to show for it. As one that has always found the veil between this world and the next to be thin, even I choose to turn away from the truth. As Rumi said so eloquently, I went back to sleep. Rather than listening to my truth on the secrets of the morning breeze, I stepped back into the room fearful of what was beyond.  

Being truly awake is a difficult journey. The awakening of a soul requires many life lessons and contemplation. For me, these lessons have been long and uncomfortable, but I would not be who I am today having not experienced them. I try each day to stay awake to the process, not numbing myself to my true voice and intuition. I speak these truths more often and don’t worry so much about what others think. I have stepped across the doorsill into an awakening of the spirit. If stepping across the doorsill is too much for you at the moment, listen for the whispered truths on the morning breeze and maybe something will call to you, prompting you to step forward and claim yourself completely.

“Deep listening is the kind of listening that can help relieve the suffering of another person. You can call it compassionate listening. You listen with only one purpose: to help him or her to empty his heart.” Thich Nhat Hanh

I have always been an observer of others.  Some see this as an introverted quality. I believe it shows a fascination with human nature.  The many different personalities in this world have intrigued me for as long as I can remember.   People are interesting and what a better way to study them than as a silent observer. Outside appearances may paint me as a classic wallflower. Quite the contrary, I have a constant stream of dialogue going on in my head and it can be colorful. Let others think what they will, my fascination with human nature continues.

Through the years of observation, I have noticed a common thread. As a naturally quiet person, others choose to “talk” to me quite often.  When I say “talk”, I do not mean a give and take conversation, but a listening session for airing frustrations and pondering life consequences.  I have a knack for listening without offering a constant stream of advice, and have found that most people are not looking for advice. They simply want to be heard.

This energy exchange has become somewhat of a challenge for me. During more emotionally charged days, I often come home exhausted just from listening all day to others problems. I am convinced that people are drawn to me in this way because of my energy, and sense that I can be a calm and reassuring figure for them. Some take advantage of this by dumping heavy emotions on me constantly, a classic yin-yang exchange. I take in their heavy energy and they leave energized by my lighter energy.  I am glad that I am able to act in this capacity for people when needed and understand that I received a gift of practiced patience from the interaction. Each time I flex these muscles, I get better at it. Showing patience when another is emotionally charged is one road on the path to greater empathy. It requires that I step out of myself and view the conversation from the others point of view. One can never have enough empathy and continuous work on this valuable life skill is time well spent.

As a child I felt everything and I mean everything. If someone was in pain I cried with them. If someone was sad, I felt terrible for them, and if someone was exuberant I felt their joy. This explains why my best friend was an introvert, like me.  She didn’t drain me the way others did. We enjoyed each other’s company and I always left feeling balanced.  Thankfully, my mom was keen on this and taught me from a young age to pray and seek divine guidance when overwhelmed. She didn’t use the word energy, but I knew what she meant.  She talked about a white light of protection and guardian angels, which provided great comfort for me.  I was a fearful child and even with all of these tools, I still felt drained and reflective most of the time.  To further protect myself, I built walls. From the outside this probably looked more like a stoic resolve. My face looked concentrated and firm when really I am just putting up my “shield” to protect my inner self. I have always been an emotional soul.  

Even with these shields up, people still stop by my office at work to “talk” quite often. Out of necessity, I have worked hard on learning ways to protect my energy and it has become a lifelong process to master. Protecting energy while deeply listening requires much attention and continues to act as a teacher through my life. I have implemented a few workplace tips that have helped me greatly and hope you will consider trying them as a part of your wellness routine.

• Moving everyday by going on a hike or to the gym each morning.  It clears my mind and my body. Stretching is vital for my MS but it also releases tension created by holding onto heavy energy. It feels great!

• Choose foods that nourish the cells rather than deplete them.  This generally is whole foods (one ingredient) and when possible organic

• Eating lunch outside if the weather permits.  I risk someone joining me, but if I bring a book I have less of a problem with this.

• Walking at lunch when the weather permits, putting in headphones and playing my favorite music. It is similar to a walking meditation.

• Envisioning a white light surrounding me when I feel attacked by heavy energy. Like a shield of light.

• Sending out light energy from my office in the hopes that it will help balance any negative thoughts coming my way.

• Upon returning home, washing my face, changing into loose clothing and drinking some tea to decompress. I do best when it is quiet during this time as a moment to let go of any energy I may have carried home with me.

• Taking an Epsom salt bath most nights with lavender oil. It releases my muscular tension and puts me in a state of deep relaxation.

• At least thirty minutes of reading or “down time” in my bedroom before trying to sleep.  It puts my body in shut down mode and helps me turn off my brain.  I often use this time to consciously let go of things that are lingering in my energy field. I absolutely cannot sleep if I am still mulling over what someone else has said to me during the day or reflecting on their emotions.

• Avoiding angry confrontation when at all possible. This is difficult in the workplace, so I cherish my home as my “safe” place. I do not approve of anger in any form in that space.

Finally, I no longer let people dump on me for long periods of time.  I have gotten much better at removing myself from these situations in a gentle way without being abrasive.

I encourage any other sensitive people to practice these things and identify any other solutions that work for you.  It is well worth the investment in your well-being and will allow for more full and rewarding interactions with others.

“We are living at a time of great transformation. The spiritual awakening that began in the 1960s needs to mature to its next level, which is a deepening into devotion to a mystical practice while remaining an effective force in the world. And by that I mean remaining in your skin, in your role as who you are. Mystics knew how to channel grace through prayer and they knew the power of that. They knew how to receive guidance through reflection and contemplation; they knew how to share the gift of illumination with each other. These are great gifts of life and profound grace that we are capable of providing for each other and the world. This is what it means to be a mystic without a monastery. You make a commitment to your own interior illumination and through that discover the “sacred” part of your “contract” and the true meaning of your highest potential.”

Caroline Myss

As a student of mysticism, I enjoy reading the writings of Teresa of Avila, Parker Palmer, St Francis of Assisi and Thomas Merton. Each individual is from very different times in history, but all had the benefit of mystical experiences. The commonality amongst all of these wonderful teachers was the necessity for transformative challenges. Each had to walk through the fire of uncertainty in order to have a true mystical experience, a step on the very personal road to spiritual discovery. Where they began was not at all where they ended up, and all that was in between represented the difficult work of life, and ultimately salvation.

Transformation is one of the only constants of this life. Nothing remains stagnant and everything must change. Transformation is also not for the faint of heart. It involves the examination of the soul in a deep and meaningful way. Each individual will approach this examination uniquely, no one path exists. The difficulty for mystics is that the cultural norm for spiritual transformation often involves very set rules of engagement, predetermined by centuries of religious practice. This can create a barrier to the completeness of the experience.

Transformation in my life has always represented a period of difficult change and a painful birthing of the new. Moments like the birth of my first child, living in an emotionally disconnected marriage, betrayal, divorce and illness. During those times I would never had believed that I was experiencing divine intervention and ultimately a transformation of the soul. I think back and feel a deep sadness. I feel the desire for what I did not have, the inability to find true and lasting love, the overwhelming responsibility of raising a child and finally the total rebellion of my body in illness. How could such difficult times be in any way transformative in nature?

Nowhere did any historical figure ever say that true change would be easy. Why then do we believe that we are marked for failure when challenges present themselves? Why do we not celebrate change as an opportunity to teach us?  Discomfort is not something that people cherish in this generation. Everything is about immediate gratification. The work of the soul is neither immediate nor gratifying.  It is messy, ugly work that leaves us spent and completely exhausted from the trying. Here enters the mystical experience, in the moments of despair when we are brought to our knees and become humbly aware of the Divine. In those moments, we are closer to finding our true self then in any other time that came before.

Teresa of Avila says it well with,  “For if the will has nothing to employ it and love has no present object with which to busy itself, the soul finds itself without either support or occupation, its solitude and aridity cause it great distress and its thoughts involve it in the severest conflict.” Conflict in this sense can be a dark period in one’s life. A calling to take some time to assimilate what is happening. Times of deep reflection are often followed by intense transformation. They are one in the same. The beauty of mysticism is to be comfortable with the uncomfortable, to sit calmly in the storm, to be misunderstood and to misunderstand. It is all an opportunity to grow in ways only a personal experience can allow. In retrospect, I am grateful for these life experiences. It is only with the wisdom that comes from transformation that the soul can stretch and become more authentic. I look forward to the next “great transformation” with a sense of anticipation and wonder for what will become known.