Polly Hansen

While meditating today, I noticed my thoughts going this way and that. I focused on my breath, so grateful for it, the richness of the in-breath, the relief of the out-breath, over and over. My thoughts scattered again. I became aware of being present again. I became conscious of myself being aware. I had a question for God. I asked, “God, are You aware of Yourself? God said, “Of course!” I asked, “What is that like? Is it possible to show me? Can I stand it?” God said, “Sure, I’ll show you.” Immediately, my mind went still, complete stillness. Oh! It was so precious, so delicious and wonderful. And then my timer went off much, much sooner than I expected.

Holding to the Constant

Break into the peace within,

Hold attention in stillness,

And in the world outside

You will ably master the ten thousand things.

All things rise and flourish

Then go back to their roots.

Seeing this return brings true rest,

Where you discover who you really are.

Knowing who you are, you will find the constant.

Those who lack harmony with the constant court danger,

But those who have it gain new vision.

They act with compassion;

      within themselves, they can find room for everything.

Having room, they rule themselves and lead others wisely.

Being wise, they live in accordance

      with the nature of things.

Emptied of self and one with nature,

They become filled with the Tao.

The Tao endures forever.

For those who have attained harmony with the Tao

      Will never lose it

Even if their bodies die.

–Lao Tzu

P.S. I love this line: “Knowing who you are, you will find the constant.” We are beloved children of God. You are, I am, we all are. What peace in savoring that blessed reality.

If you’re not familiar with 12-Step programs, there’s something they feature called “The Acceptance Prayer,” which, upon first reading can be very hard to swallow. “Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today…” See what I mean? It goes on to say that if you want serenity, you must change your attitude.

My attitude is often the root of my suffering. Specifically, my attitude towards myself. For example, I’ve often judged myself harshly. I say, ‘I’m not doing enough to help the world. Look at all those enlightened activists and teachers doing their part.’ And then my thoughts get even darker, and I think, “I am not enough.”

Simply put, my attitude towards myself creates my suffering. When I remember the Acceptance Prayer, I have a better chance of accepting all my faults and gifts with humility. 

The A.A. Big Book contains many spiritual gems of love and wisdom that resonate even if you’re not an alcoholic or addict. One such gem is the passage, “living in the answer.… When I stopped living in the problem and began living in the answer, the problem went away.”

The problem, for me, is often some form of thinking that I am not enough. ‘Who am I to say this, to believe that, to want this, etc.?’ When I turn instead to living in the answer, which means being aware of God’s abiding love for me, my angst disappears.

“[W]e are all children of God and we each have a right to be here. When I complain about me or you, I am complaining about God’s handiwork. I am saying that I know better than God.” –(A.A. Big Book p. 417)  

Touché.

And when I struggle because life doesn’t go my way, the way I expected, the way I counted on, I can return to acceptance rather than harbor resistance or resentment. Neither of those attitudes changes reality and only makes me suffer more. Besides, the unexpected happens all of the time. God doesn’t say, ‘Here’s exactly what’s going to happen in your life, and this is how you’ll deal with it.’ What’s the point in that? I’d have as much meaning as a ticking clock—and I don’t want to just mark time with my life. I want to live life fully with all the unexpected turns, disappointments, and joys that it holds.

The lively way to live is exactly the way the writer of that acceptance chapter in the Big Book suggests—by accepting the feelings and emotions we have at the moment and expressing them appropriately.

“When we deal in feelings, we tend to come to know ourselves and each other much better.”

That is excellent guidance whether I’m talking with my spouse, my children, my mother, my sister, my boss, my colleagues, anyone. I can check in with my feelings, whether I’m troubled or joyous, accept where I’m at, and take care of myself accordingly. I can decide whether to share what I’m feeling, or protect myself by not sharing if that feels appropriate. Acceptance is such a lively, gratifying way to live.

The Acceptance Prayer

“Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation, some fact of my life, unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God’s world by mistake. Unless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world, as on what needs to be changed in me and my attitudes.” –The A.A. “Big Book” p. 417

When I pray, I focus my awareness on my consciousness of God’s presence. This morning, I prayed on the Mary and Martha story where Mary is at Jesus’s feet, enthralled, while Martha is in the kitchen, fretting because she got stuck with all the grunt work. Jesus says, ‘Don’t worry about all that, Martha. Mary is doing the more important thing; she’s got it right. She is loving me.’ Unlike Martha, Mary spends her time being in love, like, steeping in it, in the deepest part of the ocean where the gem of God’s love resides.

And so this morning I focused on that love and realized I felt guilty about wanting to feel loved, for doesn’t Saint Francis urge us to love rather than to be loved?

“O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.”

Spirit interceded, whispering, ‘Let us love you, Polly. Let us love you. That is our gift to you.’ I was conscious of how precious that love felt, how exquisite that endowment.

But I had trouble relaxing into that love, into the luxury of it. I realized that it is far more difficult for me to receive than to give because, in giving, I feel a modicum of control. When I am the giver, I have a bit more power. In receiving, I must surrender, let go entirely, and be vulnerable.

I heard the whispers. ‘Enjoy our gift to you.’ So I let go, and the love of God filled my heart.

Later that morning as I went about my day reading work emails and articles, I became aware of such love I felt for all of us, for the entire human family, like it was brimming over within my heart. And I thought, by letting love in, by receiving love in prayer, allowing it to sink deep within my heart, I respond with loving-kindness for all.

And this is why I pray, because it fills my heart and pours loving kindness into the world. This is the power of prayer — to create consciousness that is healing rather than hurtful — something we all need.

We are all like stained-glass windows glowing in the night, each with our own design. Don’t let your light go out, or we won’t see it.

Who you are and what you have to say is precious. We all have our stories. Tell yours.  

We share common threads but weave them differently. Some stories we relate to more than others. Some we like, some we don’t. My five-star review of one person’s book is a one-star review for someone else and vice versa.

So what?

It doesn’t matter. There are plenty of us to go around, plenty of people to relate to in one way or another. Never give up hope that your voice is important. We need to hear it. If you are writing your story or memoir, don’t give up.

I won’t either.

“…Drink the wine that moves you

As a camel moves when it’s been untied,

And is just ambling about.”

“The Many Wines”

from The Essential Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

I can be on the phone with a stranger I’ve just met and be completely in tune with her because of our shared experience. I can love her immediately because the pain of our past makes us sisters. I’m speaking specifically of not loving myself, not treating myself well.

I understand what it is to let others do and say things to you that hurt. I did that for years as a child, as a teen, and as a mother. Consequently, I felt wretched. Nor was I able to contain my feelings. My emotions ran amok like wild animals in a cage. No, like mutant fish evolving into monstrosities that crawled out of the mucky tank, horrifying and ugly and scary. Are you with me? Do you know what I’m talking about? I’ve been in that horrible darkness and wanted out.

But the way out is through, not around, not in denial. You must go inside to where all that dark stuff is.

But don’t go there alone. Go with help. Good, strong, understanding, competent help. I was lucky to find it. I had many human guides, many good therapists, and friends. None of them were perfect, and all had their limitations. That is why we also need to call upon Spirit. Spirit guides us, loves us, and protects us when we ask it to.

Spirit is not pushy or assertive. Spirit has exquisite manners and will only come when bidden.

But even then, I didn’t always remember to listen. That takes discipline. Once I said hello to Spirit and acknowledged Spirit in my consciousness and in my heart every day, my life turned around. I changed my attitude, began to take better care of myself, and to treat myself and others well. I realized that what I need and want is to both ask for and accept help when given. And to be grateful for it.

For too many years I tried to survive on my own, to do everything my way. I didn’t trust anyone. Spirit would try to help, and I would push it away, which was crazy because I was so miserable!

I was afraid to be vulnerable because I’d been hurt by people so many times before. I allowed them to take advantage of my innocence, many who were so sick themselves they had completely lost their way and had devolved into those kinds of creatures that filled my fish tank – dank, ugly, awful mutations of horror.

It took a long time, but I have learned to love and value myself. I discovered that I have a voice and that I need to speak up and use it. That’s how I treat myself well, by checking in with Spirit and confirming what I know to be true and then letting others know how I feel by saying yes, I want this, or no, I do not want that. These are my boundaries and you have violated them, or you respect my boundaries, and I am grateful.

None of us have to walk this path to selfhood alone. I now reach out to others. Let’s share our journeys. We don’t have to walk them alone.

“And all day long she sings softly to herself for joy, saying: Shall I show thee what God is? No one finds peace apart from [h]er.”

Saint Catherine of Genoa – A Sea of Peace

I’ve wasted years twisting myself into a pretzel trying to get people to like me. What pain and sorrow that is!

Today, I enjoy my Self. I revel in the luxury of just being me. Who cares if I’m not to everyone’s liking? No one is! Not even God! So why should that matter to me?

When you are trying to feel loved from the outside in, it doesn’t work, and it’s extremely painful. You have to feel love from inside.

But when what’s inside hurts a lot, that is difficult to do – to love yourself.

I got loads and loads of help slogging through the mess inside, and finally…finally, I enjoy what’s there. It’s a lovely home!

So, don’t give up, dears, if your home is messy and painful at the moment.

Perhaps you can accept for one tiny moment, that this is the way it has to be right now. This period of your life will pass. With hard work, perseverance, and determination you will, eventually, know yourself for the gift that you are. I know it. I’ve done it. We all can.

“The cloud weeps, and then the garden sprouts.

The baby cries, and the mother’s milk flows.

The nurse of creation has said, Let them cry a lot.”

Rumi – from “Muhammad and the Huge Eater”

Translated by Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi

When I was 16, I was homeless for a short period of time, and one cold and gray day got lost in the woods. I’d climbed up a wooded ridge, crossed a dirt road that ran along the crest, and then down the other side, where I found a small lake at the bottom of the ravine. It was very still and quiet. The sandy shore all around was raked into even grooves. I did not like the place. It felt eerie and unnatural. But when I turned and looked into the hills, I saw smoke lifting above the trees. I decided to see who lived there.

I found what I believed was a path to the cabin, but the path petered out.

I found another path, but it too stopped abruptly.

I looked for a high place where I might get a clearer view and found a large boulder. I scrambled to the top of it and stood above the trees. There was the tendril of smoke off in the distance. But there was another, and another, many tendrils dotting the hillsides.

I’d been chasing mist. I’d been following deer tracks that went nowhere.

I was cold and hungry. The light was falling. I abandoned the deer paths and headed straight up the ravine. Dense scrub brush halted my way.

I went back down the ravine and looked for a better approach. But soon I was against the thick undergrowth again and could not get through. It started to drizzle. The sky was growing dark. I got down on my hands and knees and barreled my way through the sharp cartilage, but it resisted, held me back. My toes and fingers ached with cold. I was terrified I’d be stuck there all night.

I got down on my belly and crawled. Brambles grabbed my hair, thorns scratched my face. I clawed my fingers into the dirt and crawled inch by inch, knowing the road was somewhere above me.

I heard the distant sound of tires crunching over gravel. I clawed my way towards it, the sting of branches raking my scalp, thorns tearing my sweater. The beam of headlights flickered through the dense brush. The car passed and complete darkness fell, but I knew I was close. I just had to keep pushing.

With one last effort I was free. I stumbled to my feet, relief flooding me as Venus gleamed in the dark evening sky.

Life is like that, a series of misperceptions and wrong turns in the woods. I was once homeless, feeling abandoned and lonely, lost in the brambles and thickets I had crawled my way into, but I never gave up, never completely abandoned myself. If you find yourself in similar woods, hang on. Lean on Spirit and your own fortitude. Look for beacons. You will find your way.

It is not impossible to love yourself. It may feel like a daunting task, but know this – you are already loved, already cherished. Isn’t that a joy worth discovering? Isn’t that a joy worth fighting for, enduring for? Yes! Yes, it is! I tell you – don’t give up on yourself. Never, never give up.

The Shining Self

To be united with the Lord of Love,

Imperishable, changeless, beyond cause

And effect, is to find infinite joy.

            The Tejobindu Upanishad

Life can be difficult, challenging, painful, and confusing, and still there is always hope. Hope for redemption, for awakening to love.

But when I am in pain, or when I am fearful, I doubt myself. I doubt my goodness, my worth, my purpose. At such times, I ask, what am I supposed to do with my life?

To love unconditionally and whole heartedly. Love yourself. Love others. Love life.

But how can I love when I am in such pain and doubt?

By coming to me and laying it all at my feet.

What if I don’t believe in you? What if I don’t have faith? What if I only believe in myself and in my pain and in my doubt, because that is all I can see and feel?

Then I would ask, what has that given you?

More of the same. Hopelessness. Anguish.

Would it be worthwhile to try something new? To entertain the notion that you are not alone? That there is indeed a power greater than you, a power over which you have no control, be it the sky, the air you breathe, the life force that gives the plant on your shelf new shoots. Could you maybe talk to that greater power? I tell you that part of belief and faith comes in sharing that doubt and grief with a power greater than yourself. Say, “I hurt. I doubt myself. I don’t like this, but I’m going to sit with it and see what happens rather than push it away.”

You might do this alone in prayer. Or with your therapist, or with a spiritual adviser, or a friend, or within the membership of a 12-step program of some kind, or in your journal. Write about it. Draw a picture of it. Talk to it. Ask what this pain, this shame wants. You have been resisting it, trying to make it go away, don’t. All it wants is to be noticed, to be accepted. Only then can you change your attitude towards it. You cannot change your attitude towards pain and shame if you are constantly resisting it, which only makes it stronger, like weight resistance makes your muscles stronger, resistance to pain makes it stronger as well.

Jesus did not resist pain. He walked right into it and transformed that pain into a gift and release for us all.  We are no longer trapped in the horror of guilt. He went before us, and now the path is open. Open for all of us to be together in love and harmony.

But why doesn’t it feel like that now? Why is there so much heartache and strife now?

Because there is.

You must accept it before it can transform you.

It’s a mystery.

My life of misery, of self-doubt, and self-hatred has been transformed into one of gratefulness, joyfulness, love, and forgiveness, for myself and for those who hurt me. Jesus forgave and loved all the people who hurt him, because he knows that love is the true state of our being. And the paradox is that tragedy and pain are part and parcel of love and joy.

It’s a weird mystery, and one I am learning to embrace. It deepens my knowing of God, and of the glorious soup of which we are all a part.

Recently, I got stuck in the old seeking-approval rut, the I’m-not-good-enough rut, the people-don’t-like-me rut. I still get snagged there sometimes. Thankfully, the fall doesn’t last nearly as long as it used to. I pick myself up fairly quickly, dust myself off, and continue on my journey towards self-love. I do that with the help of spiritual tools such as readings, prayer, and journaling.

In her book Comfortable with Uncertainty, 108 Teachings on Cultivating Fearlessness and Compassion, American Buddhist nun, Pema Chodron writes about suffering. “[We suffer when] we proceed as if we are separate from everything else, as if we are a fixed identity, when our true situation is egoless. Because we mistake the openness of our being for a solid, irrefutable self, we suffer.”  [From Teaching #27: “The Facts of Life: Suffering”]

For example, I suffer when I second guess myself, and I second guess myself when I worry about what other people think of me, when I worry about their disapproval. That is suffering. When I concern myself with “me” and “them,” instead of “we,” I suffer.

Chodron goes on to say “[W]e look for happiness in all the wrong places. The Buddha called this habit ‘mistaking suffering for happiness.’ We become habituated to reaching for something to ease the edginess of the moment. Thus we become less and less able to reside with even the most fleeting uneasiness or discomfort. What begins as a slight shift of energy – a minor tightening of our stomach, a vague indefinable feeling that something bad is about to happen – escalates into addiction. This is our way of trying to make life predictable. Because we mistake what always results in suffering to be what will bring us happiness, we remain stuck in the repetitious habit of escalating our dissatisfaction.”

Yes! Such as when I yearn for approval from others. I’m embarrassed, I’m resentful, I’m uncertain. Immediately, I think, how can I change myself to get people to like me? That is the “repetitious habit” Chodron speaks of, the addiction to easing the discomfort, to easing the “edginess of the moment” rather than simply being with it, accepting it, and sitting with the discomfort.

In other words, do nothing, because the only approval I need is God’s.

And what happens when I sit in silence and do nothing? What happens when I focus on the discomfort rather than trying to make it go away, when I accept the discomfort for what it is – uncomfortable?

I find that I am loved. Regardless of all my imperfections and petty worries, I am loved.

And isn’t that what I was after all along?

Some days are a “first things first” kind of day. Like when things go so badly, or you’ve been through a rough night, that you throw your hands in the air and say, “I give up. I am powerless. Show me the way.”

I have learned that the key to my serenity on these kinds of days is to let go of any agenda I may have had, to let go of expectations, and to trust that my higher power has everything under control, because certainly, I don’t.

So, I shouldn’t even try. I should just let go, and let God.

And if I don’t have faith, if I don’t believe in God, I can believe in the munificence of Life itself, and know that I can only take care of myself, and hope for the best.

However, I can also pray for faith. Living a life with no faith, I am lost.

Prayer

“Do not look with fear

            on the changes and chances of this life;

            rather look to them with full faith that as they arise,

            God – whose you are – will deliver you out of them.

Do not anticipate what will happen tomorrow.

The same everlasting Father who cares for you today

            will take care of you tomorrow and every day.

Either He will shield you from suffering or

He will give you unfailing strength to bear it.”

— Saint Francis De Sales

“Kindle in me, O Lord, the blazing fire of faith

To be the pole-star of my life!”

— Sri Ramakrisha, from “Thou One Without a Second”