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You, Life, and the Big Stupid Head

Over the years of teaching and offering spiritual guidance, I’ve been increasingly drawn to the word “expansion” as one of my primary goals for clients and students. When we suffer, we’re in what I think of as a “contracted” state. Our perspective shrinks around our problems so that they come to occupy the bulk of our awareness.

It’s like someone with an enormous head has sat down in front of you at the movie theater. The movie that’s playing on the screen is called Life. It got like 91% on Rotten Tomatoes! But all you can see is that annoying head. It’s so unfair. Everyone else doesn’t have a person with a big stupid head in front of them. They’re just watching and laughing and eating popcorn.

The more you sit and grumble about the situation, the more you scrutinize his ugly head, and the more you think, “Why me? This is tragic,” the more narrow your awareness becomes. Eventually the movie’s over and you think, “I missed out on Life because of that dummy!” 

In moments of expansion you might see that your outlook played a significant (negative) role in this experience, but this is only useful going forward. If you turn that self-awareness into self-blame, it just intensifies the blockage.

Had you been committed to getting the most out of Life, you might have tried different ways to expand your awareness beyond that big head. Moving back a row. Asking the guy to relocate. Forgiving him and yourself and Life and anyone else you might blame. And focusing on the many aspects of Life that aren’t eclipsed by the head.

For instance, you might notice that you can actually see most of the screen. You can still hear the music. You can still feel joy. You can still experience connection with those around you and your own Highest Self. You can still relish your food. 

And when you look neutrally at that big head – shhh, don’t tell anyone – it’s not entirely bad. It’s bald, actually, and there’s a tattoo on it! It’s a cartoon of someone at the movies sitting behind a guy with an enormous head. In the first frame the person in the back is angry and red in the face. In the second frame they’re crying and pulling their hair out. In the last frame, they’re laughing and tears of gratitude are pouring down their cheeks. 

What’s the big stupid head in your life right now? Are you letting it occupy your attention to the degree that it eclipses the big picture and degrades your quality of life? 

To the extent that you are insistent that this shouldn’t be happening to you, you will continue to feed your own misery. Your resistance alone will not cause the bid stupid head to move out of your way. 

In comparison, what could be possible if you let go of the idea that this is unfair or a burden on you? What skills, powers, and other forms of assistance are available to you when you ask Spirit for help? What happens when you deliberately choose to focus instead on the gifts in your life? I know it can take true heroism to see beyond your obstacles and relinquish your grievances with the world, but I also know that you have within you the power to do so. On the other side, freedom awaits. 

Be well,

Peter Borten

 

Copyright 2018 by Peter Borten

Making Peace with Death

Do you remember the first time you drove 100 miles per hour? I was 18 years old. Somewhere between Boston and New York, at about 3:00 AM on an empty stretch of highway, I floored my mom’s Mitsubishi Galant, broke 100, and held it for a half a minute or so, my heart pounding. (She’s just finding out about this now. Hi, Mom!)

During those thirty seconds, my mind decided to present me with a new thought: “It would be really easy to die right now.” Just the slightest twitch of the steering wheel was all it would take. And the weird part was, the thought didn’t come with fear so much as curiosity.

Later, as a psychology major, I reflected that perhaps this was a glimpse of the “death drive” that Freud identified – sometimes referred to by the name of the Greek angel of death: Thanatos. Over the coming years, I had more experiences of the proximity of death – and the hint of an urge to take the leap.

As I got older and acquired older friends and older patients, I began to witness humans’ fear of death. I saw people so consumed by the avoidance of death that it corrupted their experience of life. It occurred to me that getting a life is a bit like having someone hand you a lit sparkler. You can dance around with it, make patterns in the darkness, marvel at its beauty and the way it illuminates the night; or you can stand there frozen, saying, “Oh no, the sparkler is going to burn out. The sparkler is going to burn out. The sparkler is going to burn out. The sparkler is going to burn out…” until it does.

Unfortunately, I realized one day that I had joined the ranks of those who are preoccupied with sparkler burnout (i.e., death), and I saw that, for me, it began when I had children. Sure, I didn’t want the Peter game to end and I didn’t want to get dragged through some painful terminal illness, but more importantly, I didn’t want to leave my children fatherless.

At first, I thought, “So, this is the opposite of Thanatos. There is the death-drive and then there’s the fear of death.” But when I explored it further, I realized that these two drives often have the same origins: fear of the unknown, fear of loss (of oneself and the people and things one loves), fear of pain (having it and inflicting it), an unsettled relationship with life, etc.

Around that time, I participated in a course with author and speaker Hale Dwoskin, in which he directed students to bring to mind something that they fear. The first thing that came to me was cancer – dying of cancer. Then he asked gently, “Now, could you let go of wanting that to happen?”

I felt a distinct lurch in my mind as I protested, “Wanting it to happen?!” And then I noticed it – hiding the shadows – a part of me that wanted to have it and get it over with, so the fear would end. Here was the potential for both a fear of death and an attraction to it.

As I started to work through this, asking myself how I had come to be so focused on the demise of my sparkler rather than enjoying it, I realized that I already had part of my answer. Playing with the sparkler is an expression of life drive. Where had my life drive gone?!

Luckily it was still there. It was just buried under a bunch of crap. Decades of immersion in human drama had caused me, like so many others, to lose sight of the truth: The truth that a choice of perspective (a lighthearted perspective even) is always available to us. The truth that life is rich with opportunities for connection. The truth that life – regardless of the course it takes – is a gift. If I could sum up my revelation in a word, it would be remembering.

If you’re at a similar place, or just like to know yourself and “clean house” of beliefs that aren’t serving you, I recommend two strategies – making peace with death and revving up your life drive.

First, of course, some fear of death is healthy. It’s built into our nervous system, which uses fear to trigger alertness and activate survival mechanisms. It has probably saved your life multiple times, as it has mine. What I’m concerned with is not this momentary fear, but chronic fear than infringes on our experience of the present in an ongoing way.

There’s a lot to be said about death – much more than I can sum up here – so let me just offer a few of the tools that I’ve found most useful for myself, my patients, and the members of our congregation.

Write about death. When you write freely about it, you become clearer on what, specifically, you’re averse to, and what triggers it. At the same time, you begin to process it. If you write repeatedly, you’ll often find a softening of strong emotions and a broadening of your perspective.

Accept the inevitable. Aside from the 7 billion humans who currently inhabit Earth, every human to come before us has died. It’s an exceedingly popular way to end life. Old people die and tiny babies die. Brave people die and scaredy cats die. You will someday join the ranks of the most impressive historical figures you can think of. It’s part of what makes life special. And it’s the way of the natural world. All things move through cycles, and one day your body will be reintegrated into the planet that birthed and sustained it.

Plan how you would like to die. You can’t usually control when or from what cause, but you can at least have a plan in place about who you’d like to have near you and what kind of environment you’d like to be in for that transition. It may not be possible to implement this plan in the end, but in the meantime, it will put your mind at ease to imagine it happening in a loving way.

Plan for what will happen after you die. Sometimes our anxiety about death comes from feeling that things won’t be taken care of properly. Making a will isn’t exactly fun, but it can be relieving. What will happen with your kids? Your assets? Your legacy? Figure it out now.

Practice mental discipline. If you find yourself often thinking purposelessly about death, catch yourself, pick up your attention, and put it on something else. Break yourself of the habit. Ask yourself whether it serves any useful purpose or just degrades your state of mind.

Watch people get old gracefully and die gracefully. There are lots of videos and books about people having good elder years and good deaths, and there are likely many people in your community who would be happy to speak to you about their dying process. Another good resource is people who work in hospice settings.

If possible, die before you die. People use this expression – die before you die – in a few different ways. One meaning is to let “die” everything that you cling to – your ego, your identities, your attachments – so they no longer represent all that you stand to lose when death occurs. Another meaning is to let die the part of you that doesn’t want to die. A third meaning is to have an experience of your death before your actual death, such as occurs in near death experiences (NDEs) and in certain shamanic ceremonies.

Read about near death experiences. Doctors Raymond Moody and Kenneth Ring, often regarded as the experts on this topic, have interviewed hundreds of people who have had NDEs and they have discovered some common themes in their stories: feelings of deep peace and being surrounded by love, a reunion with deceased loved ones, a reluctance to return to life, and, after regaining consciousness, a lasting sense of gratitude and the loss of any fear of death. One of the best newer books on the subject is Proof of Heaven by a neurosurgeon named Dr. Eben Alexander. In a different genre, another acclaimed book that seeks to illuminate the death experience is Home With God in a Life that Never Ends by Neale Donald Walsh, author of the Conversations with God books.

Use EFT or other acupoint tapping methods to reduce the emotional charge you feel about death. EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique) is free and easy to learn – there are countless videos online about it – and it’s often an effective way to liberate yourself from negative emotions and phobias. I have seen remarkable and rapid transformations, especially around fears, with these techniques.

Learn about philosophies that assert that what we really are never dies. This concept is present in many spiritual traditions, including Native American spirituality, Buddhism, Hinduism, and even in the mystical traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. I like Advaita Vedanta, but I recommend finding a path that uses language and imagery that works for you. One teacher in this tradition, Nisargadatta Maharaj, said: “The real does not die, the unreal never lived . . . . Once you know that death happens to the body and not to you, you just watch your body falling off like a discarded garment. The real you is timeless and beyond birth and death. The body will survive as long as it is needed. It is not important that it should live long.”

Maximize your life drive. Love life. Be grateful. Focus on the good. Rather than watching some depressing movie about meth and murder, watch something that inspires and uplifts you. Smile at people and look them in the eye. Hug people. Get your hands and bare feet in the earth. Swim in a natural body of water. Stretch. Push your limits. Pay attention to the seasons. Paint. Dance. Sculpt. Write. Sing. Learn. Be fascinated. Find the things that are easiest to love and fill your life with them; then take that love and stretch it, applying it to things that are more challenging to love. And, remember who you really are and what you already know.

See you on the other side,

Peter

 

(C) 2018 by Peter Borten

The Many Ways to Connect to Spirit

Before we get swept up in all the material aspects of the holidays, I thought I’d write a bit about the opportunities for inner growth and awakening presented by the autumn season. We can view the cycle of seasons as a metaphor for the cycles of life, and the autumn phase seems to be challenging for more people than any other.

While spring and summer were marked by lots of new leaves, flowers, and fruits, in autumn the outward growth ends and decay begins. It’s much like the shift that occurs in humans’ later years.

People vary, but generally speaking, we spend twenty years growing into adult bodies and a few more decades actively focused on outward building and growing – wealth, a family, reputation, etc. Then the outward growth diminishes and eventually a period of physical decline begins.

In Chinese Five Element philosophy, this phase presents a lesson in true value – it urges us to let go of what is already departing and to focus on what can’t be lost. It reminds us that physical forms are temporary; it points us to what’s eternal.

If we accept these prompts, when a form falls away, we can more readily see the essence behind it – the growth we experienced, the love that was ignited, the connection that developed. And as our own form ceases to be the main priority of our life, so can the formless light of our being more easily shine through us.

Besides the seasonal journey of a whole lifetime, this cycle occurs on a smaller scale many times through our lives – such as the end of a project, when our children leave home, or with the passing of a loved one. If we haven’t been conscious of our connection to the essence of these relationships, this autumn phase is likely to be painful because we perceive it only as a loss.

It’s possible, however, to witness the bare trees of life’s autumns not with grief but wonder and appreciation. The more in tune we are with the richness and consistency of the spiritual dimension of life, the easier it is to accept whatever life brings. Spiritual connection not only enriches our lives, it also makes us more resilient.

Like any relationship we value, our relationship with Spirit is strongest and most supportive when we tend to it regularly. Many people never learned how to do this, so I’d like to offer a few suggestions through an excerpt of our book, The Well Life:

What Are We Connecting To?

It’s important to have a term that feels comfortable to your mind. God is easy for most people, but too loaded for some. If you’re uncertain, here are some ideas.

  • There are religion-specific equivalents of the word God, such as: Allah, Jah, Yahweh, Elohim, etc.
  • In many traditions, the primary conception of God is in male form, such as: Divine or Heavenly Father, Lord, Shiva, Father Sky, etc.
  • Other traditions focus on the female form: Goddess, Divine Mother, Shakti, Ma, Guanyin (Kwan Yin), Mother Earth, etc.
  • Frequently, people relate best to the holy human or avatar form of God: Jesus, Mohammad, Krishna, Rama, Buddha, etc.
  • If you shy away from anthropomorphic notions of God, there are more abstract terms, like: Spirit, Almighty, Dao (Tao), Guru, Holy Spirit, the Divine, the One, Divine Light, the Absolute, the Force, Infinite One, and Source.
  • As an expression of the idea that God is our identity, there are names such as: Higher or Highest Self, Great Self, Universal Self, Divine Self, Buddha Self, I Am, Supreme Consciousness, and Awareness.
  • There is the understanding of God as our World, with names such as: Nature, Universe, Cosmic Oneness, Ultimate Reality, and Totality.
  • Finally, if all of these words feel too grand to you, you may wish to choose a simple term such as prana, qi (chi), love, light, truth, or life force.

Choose a way of relating to Spirit that feels the least threatening or complicated. Just as importantly, go with the way that feels most awe-inspiring, most all-encompassing, most benevolent, most peaceful, most intelligent, and most lovable.

How Do We Connect?

In truth, you are already connected. You’re sitting in the lap of Spirit. Spirit moves through you. Though, if you’re like the rest of us, you’re usually unaware of it. As many spiritual traditions explain, this is one of the trappings of being surrounded by the stuff of the material world. We can get so wrapped up in our bodies and possessions, in our relationships and drama, that we lose sight of the most fundamental quality that is always here and has always been here—a deep sense of belonging to the oneness that encompasses everything.

Here are thirteen approaches to connecting with your Highest Self. Hopefully, you’ll resonate with at least a few of them. Try several and then make a practice of the ones that feel the best.

Thirteen Ways to Connect with Your Highest Self

  1. Approach life with innocence and humility. Don’t assume that you know what a situation holds in store for you. Pretend you’re a baby or a traveler in a foreign land. Be willing to go deep. Dive in with something or someone you might otherwise skim over.
  2. Connect to what inspires you. Whatever it is—art, music, writing, healing, gardening—that stirs something in you, make it an integral part of your life. Make it your religion. And when you feel this stirring, ask it where it comes from, what it has to say, and how it wants to move you.
  3. Be in nature. Let yourself experience awe in the splendor and power of the elements. Put your feet on the earth. Get among trees. Venture high up a mountain. Feel the expansiveness of the desert. Experience the rush of a river, the glassy reflectiveness of a tranquil lake, and the push and pull of the ocean. Let the rain pour over you. Let the snow land in your hair. Hold your face up to the sun. Look at the stars and moon. Feel the wind. Light a fire. Examine grains of sand under a magnifying glass. Admire crystals, plants, and animals. This isn’t just scenery; it’s an extension of You. Awaken the connection.
  4. Meditate. Make space without anything else to occupy your attention. Space for the sake of space. Space for an unmanipulated experience.
  5. Pray. If you have a way of praying that works for you, keep it up. Some people feel drawn to the traditional supplication form of prayer—making a humble request to a higher power. Others prefer a more casual conversation with Spirit. Still others do it through dance, singing, chanting, or running. If you’re interested in prayer but don’t know how to begin, consider this basic format for meditative prayer, and feel free to change it however you like.
  • Remove yourself from distractions if possible.
  • Say hello. Open the connection.
  • Welcome the intelligence, love, and guidance that are available to you.
  • Express what you’re ready to let go of—blocks, limiting beliefs, damaging behaviors, emotional pollution—and ask that it be taken away.
  • In the space that has been made, ask a question or make a request for something you wish to invite into your life. See it in your mind’s eye, feel it, intend that it shows up in a way that is healthy and supports the common good.
  • Be open. Listen.
  • Say thank you.
  1. Repeat mantras, names of the Divine, blessings, or prayers. This is something of a combination of meditation and prayer, and a bit different than either. In Catholicism it’s called praying the rosary, in Buddhism and Hinduism it’s called japa, and similar traditions exist in other religions. A string of beads (rosary, or mala in Sanskrit) is customarily used to count the repetitions, though it’s not required. The value of repetition of mantras or prayers isn’t just in the meaning and energetic influence of the sounds, but perhaps even more in the effect on your consciousness. It can put you in a deeply peaceful and connected meditative or trancelike state. It gives the busy mind something to focus on, and in the process you’re liberated from its monologue. Some common mantras from various traditions include: Om (Aum), Maranatha, Om Namah Shivaya, Om Mani Padme Hum, God, Nam Myoho Renge Kyo, Elohim, So Ham, Om Shanti Shanti Shanti, Sat Nam. [In material accompanying the book, we explain these mantras in greater detail and offer some additional suggestions.]
  2. Connect to what encompasses and guides you. Although it seems that between you and the nearest objects is just empty space, imagine that Spirit is meeting you at every point on your body, that you’re fully held and embraced from all sides. Feel the flow, the trajectory by which your life moves along. See if you can become aware of its contours, its gentle nudges.
  3. Expect magic. Ask Spirit to reveal itself to you in the form of coincidences, gifts, and serendipities. Your Higher Self wants to be seen. Tune in and open your awareness to the ways you’re taken care of, the lessons you’re shown, the answers you’re given, and the delight and humor that’s sprinkled throughout your days. If you believe in this magic, you start to see it everywhere, and ultimately it doesn’t matter if you’re making it up or not because it has a positive subjective impact either way.
  4. Go to holy places and sites dedicated to spiritual practice. Even if it makes you a little uncomfortable, check out beautiful, spacious old churches. Visit a Jewish synagogue, a mosque, an ashram, Hindu and Buddhist temples, a zendo. If you like travel, see some sacred shrines and natural places of power, such as Mount Kailash, Giza, Chichén Itzá, the Ganges River, Glastonbury Tor, Lake Titicaca, or Machu Picchu.
  5. Do something charitable, help someone, serve your world. These kinds of actions have the potential to align you with Spirit because you’re doing “God’s work” by making yourself an emissary of love and kindness. Plus, you’re serving the common good, which can only benefit you. Finally, there’s little opportunity for connection when you’re immersed in your small self’s worries and interests all the time. Broadening your awareness to include others is a valuable first step to opening to Spirit.
  6. Make an offering. Offer up a dance, offer your sweat, offer your exhale, offer your time, offer your labors, offer your tears, offer your love. It’s a symbolic thing we do out of reverence for Spirit, for our Highest Self. Your intention can be to offer yourself for Divine infusion. You can offer your pain, your karmic residue, or your sadness to be liberated from it. Connection through exercise can be powerful because you’re naturally breathing deeply, you’re focused, you’re sweating, and your body is open and in the flow. It’s easy to get out of your mind and to give yourself over to the activity. Connection through your work is also potent, as it inspires you to work hard, to do it with care, and to feel grateful in the process. Give everything to this moment in recognition of the tremendous gift that it is.
  7. Let yourself fall in love. Rather than confining your devotion to a particular image or idea of God, realize that God is in everything. Therefore, you can pick the sweetest thing, the easiest to love, and love it purely, deeply, and unconditionally. Then use this as a portal to loving and connecting with the greater Whole. As you effortlessly experience love in relation to this expression of Spirit, allow this love connection to open up into a broader connection with the Totality. Love the flowers. Love the children. Love the animals. Love your family members. Practice perfect love. Love the ugly parts as well as the pretty ones. Then recognize that this small part of the Divine is connected to all the other parts.
  8. Practice mind-body arts that cross over into the spiritual, such as Qi Gong, tai chi, yi quan, and yoga. These disciplines promote the perception of energy, expand your awareness, and help you integrate the nonphysical into everyday life. The East Asian arts specifically train in the cultivation and focus of power, while yoga is also especially good at promoting flexibility and openness and undoing resistance (the single greatest impediment to your power). Try both yoga and Qi Gong or a martial art, since they develop you in different ways. [In the material that accompanies the book, we offer some basic pranayama (yogic breathing) and Qi Gong exercises.]

(If you enjoyed this excerpt, check out the audio version of The Well Life on Audible.)

Here’s hoping that as the leaves fall to the ground and more space is revealed, you’ll take the time to experience that spaciousness within yourself and see what arises. Feel free to comment below about your experience with these techniques or other ways of connecting.

Be well,

Peter

 

(C) 2019 by Peter Borten

A Lesson in Benevolence from the Trees

Spring is the season ruled by the Wood Element in Daoist philosophy, so it’s a good time to talk about the lessons and challenges this element presents. Previously I wrote about Wood’s quality of flexibility and how this virtue can enable us to grow around the obstacles we encounter. This is especially important in the context of our life plan, since the Wood Element governs our vision and the ability to plan.  When Wood is balanced and healthy in us, we have a clear vision of where we’re headed, which forms the basis of our plan.  

As a side note, we don’t necessarily need to figure out and manipulate all the material details that will get us from point A to point B.  The most important part is that we never lose sight of point B, and that we continue to proceed, to the best of our ability, in the general direction of this goal.  As I discussed in earlier writings, there is plenty that can happen between point A and point B, and these obstacles are apt to provoke frustration and anger in us.  But without obstacles, we wouldn’t grow nearly as much; nor would we learn the virtue of flexibility. 

This month I’m going to introduce you to the broader, overarching virtue of Wood, called Ren, which means benevolence or kindness.  Some people are just born with healthy Wood qualities, and this benevolence comes naturally; for others, it is a virtue that develops over time as we successfully overcome the challenges the Wood Element presents.  It is part of my mission as a healer to remind people of their connection to nature; to wake people up to the ways the dynamics of the natural world parallel our own human struggles and achievements.  Each of the qualities of the Five Elements in this philosophical system has been revealed by the substance and workings of nature.  So, what is the origin of the concept of benevolence in the plant world?

Author Lonny Jarrett writes of benevolence as the quality that arises when we have the perspective (another of Wood’s virtues) to understand that our plan and others’ plans can coexist harmoniously.  We become like a tall tree looking out over the forest, not threatened by the other trees.  We see that ours is not the only plan, and that no one needs to fail in order for us to succeed.  Our vision is clear, we are flexible and unattached, thus, we can encourage the plans of all others, knowing that they need not infringe on our own.

Among the many natural expressions of this quality, one of my favorites is the way very tall tress support the wildlife below.  The tallest trees, such as redwoods, tower into low clouds and fog.  The water that comprises these clouds condenses on their leaves and drips down to the ground.  In this way, the tree not only waters itself, it effectively drops up to four inches of “rain” each night, supporting the surrounding vegetation and animal life.  

Kindness neutralizes the sense of competitiveness from which so much anger emanates. We can all have what we want, especially if our vision is broad enough.  Chapter 66 of the 2500 year old Daoist text, Dao De Jing, says:

               The Master is above the people,

               and no one feels oppressed.

               She goes ahead of the people,

               and no one feels manipulated.

               The whole world is grateful to her.

               Because she competes with no one,

               no one can compete with her.

The majority of our competing occurs entirely within us.  Our own self-criticism, and the many ways in which we try to control our life journey amount to more encroachment than anyone else’s plan does.  Be benevolent to the person whose life you’re living.  

As with many philosophies, Five Element philosophy can be understood at different levels by different people, and in different ways at different points in our life.  Regarding kindness, for instance, there is “garden variety” kindness, and then there is profound benevolence – a rarer quality.  Garden variety kindness is nothing to scoff at.  There are plenty of reasons to practice it, perhaps the most obvious being that it feels good to both the giver and the receiver.  It only takes a little perspective to foresee the likely impact of our actions and words on others; kindness is always worthwhile.  If we all made it a priority to be more kind, the world would be a very different place.

The quintessence of this virtue, what I referred to as profound benevolence, goes far beyond being nice to people.  It is a matter of how we hold ourselves and the world in our minds.    It is born from perspective both broad enough and deep enough to know what real freedom entails.  The ultimate kindness is allowing ourselves the freedom to be however we are, and allowing the world the freedom to be however it is.  In fact, no individual can experience complete freedom without also freeing the rest of the world.

It doesn’t matter that we can’t truly restrict the world from doing things we disapprove of – disliking us, for instance, or having political corruption, or religious extremism, or telemarketers.  The restriction occurs inside us – and we are the ones whose freedom is compromised by denying the validity of all the plans we disapprove of.  I don’t mean to imply that we’re not entitled to preferences.  I just mean to propose that the world lives as much within us as it does outside of us, and the way we treat it is ultimately the way we are treating ourselves.  Thus, when we attempt to confine a disliked part of reality, we end up confining ourselves.  If we don’t set the world free, we don’t set ourselves free.  When we free the world, we become like the tall, wise tree in the forest, promoting the coexistence of all plans.  This kindness is always worthwhile.

Be well,

Peter


(C) 2012 by Peter Borten

Community is Medicine

It was my birthday party in May and before we all started eating, Briana asked if I wanted to say something to my guests. Unbeknownst to them, I had been feeling a nauseous gurgling in my guts all day, so I was trying to hold it together and was caught a bit off guard. But I looked around at this group of shining faces and said the first words that came to me: “Community is medicine. Thank you for being here.” And that was enough.

Immersion in loving community is deeply fortifying, supportive, and uplifting. Studies show that when a suffering person holds someone’s hand, their suffering is reduced. I believe the same is true of metaphorically holding many hands through community engagement. And while it’s therapeutic to be seen and held in our challenges, there’s also value in the way that being oriented to our community gives us a break from self-scrutiny and self-indulgence.

Like eating green vegetables or meditating, sometimes we can forget to prioritize community when we’re busy or immersed in a personal struggle. But as some wise person once said, our community is like our muscles. Besides supporting and empowering us, they need to be engaged regularly in order to stay strong. If you neglect your muscles, they get flabby. If you neglect your community, they probably won’t turn their backs on you, but for numerous reasons they won’t be able to support you as well as they could.

From our book, The Well Life, here are some actions you can take to mindfully build your community:

  • Ask people for help – whether it be in your garden, with your taxes, or finding a great preschool. Learn what gifts and wisdom those around you have and give them opportunities to share.
  • Be involved. Go to local meetings. Participate. Know your community’s plans for the future – and how you fit into them.
  • Know the names of people you see often – the grocery cashier, the gas station attendant, the school principal, the guy who takes the same bus as you every day. Allow them to be real people in your life.
  • Make eye contact with the humans you pass on the street. Be the one who says “Hi!” first.
  • Protect the green spaces.
  • Fix something that’s broken – a neighbor’s fence, your niece’s bike, the librarian’s flat tire.
  • Support local businesses – even if it costs a little more.
  • Learn about others’ traditions and celebrate together. Look for local festivals to attend, even if they’re for an event you wouldn’t normally observe.
  • Stick up for someone – a disadvantaged person or population, someone being mistreated or disrespected, or someone who’s unable to stand up for themselves.
  • Be curious. Attend lectures at the library, senior center, or local university, check out a high school science fair, and – foremost – learn what cool stuff people are up to in your town. What are people building? What are they learning? Who can tell you about the history of this place?

I want everyone to have the experience of being part of a healthy, loving, supportive community. I hope you’ll engage with your community today and be reminded of how nourishing it is.

Be well,

Peter

 

(C) 2020 by Peter Borten

From Suffering to Grace

Early in my medical practice, people told me I should choose one area of medicine to specialize in, but I was resistant to it because of the lack of variety. Also, it seemed that the natural specialization for me would be pain since I have a knack for treating it, and that sounded, well, kind of boring.

But I gradually began focusing in that direction, and over the years my understanding of pain broadened. I became interested in the whole human experience of suffering, which was like finding a loophole because it’s a pretty vast spectrum.

Suffering is fascinating.

As much as humans hate suffering, we have a curiously complicated relationship with it. We watch movies and read books about it for entertainment. We ache when we see others suffer, but we kind of like the ache. We try it out intentionally (hot peppers anyone?) and we’re compelled to learn the graphic details of a tragedy just so we can feel it more richly. Often we simultaneously generate it and resist it. And sometimes, we turn it into an incredible, life-changing blessing.

To an extent, it seems that when good outcomes happen after a period of suffering, its evidence of healthy adaptive mechanisms that help us make the best of a bad situation. But occasionally the suffering appears to be a kind of magic ingredient that provokes an evolution (or a revolution) that wouldn’t have otherwise occurred.

Few people would ask to suffer, but studies show that when they look back on how suffering ultimately facilitated a great favorable change, most say they wouldn’t change anything.

Well, maybe one thing.

If only they could have trusted, they reflect, it could have been a different experience.

On top of the discomfort of suffering we often add an additional dimension of discomfort in the form of resistance, which is often triggered by fear. When the resistance stops – because we just can’t keep it up any longer, or through a conscious choice to trust and relinquish the resistance – this is when something else enters the equation.

We call it by many names: insight, revelation, Divine grace. When this occurs, the suffering becomes a portal to a new way of being.

It sounds paradoxical to invite suffering in order to overcome suffering, but it’s important to recognize that pain is part of life and growth. Resistance never makes it better. If we can step back and recognize that the pain phase is instrumental in getting us to face something that needs to change, our experience of suffering becomes very different.   

Today, when you encounter some suffering – maybe it will just be a little micro-suffering – what happens if you don’t resist it? What happens when you say, “I choose to trust” and dive into it?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this (in the comments section below). Have you had experience where suffering facilitated something good? What was the pivotal point, when it turned from suffering into grace? Did that change your relationship with suffering? Do you trust more? Why or why not?

Love,

Peter

 

(C) 2021 by Peter Borten

Fixing Our Relationship With Ourselves and the World

If you were birthed by Earth, then every pebble and plant is your sibling.

In a previous article I wrote about animism (“What if You Were Always Surrounded by Friends?“), the belief that all things possess a spirit. Animistic cultures are incredibly widespread – chances are, if you didn’t grow up in one, you’re descended from one. But these sensibilities have been largely supplanted by science. Science and spirituality are often at odds, and the science-oriented developed world generally disbelieves in spirituality – especially in a form so different from our monotheistic religions. This might not be a problem if a reductive, nonspiritual orientation met all our needs, but I believe we’ve lost something along the way.

Scientists and animists alike can agree that a rock isn’t biologically alive in quite the same way that, say, a bird is. But the scientist wouldn’t be scientific if they assumed that this means we can’t be in relationship with both. A person who believes a rock doesn’t possess a spirit has no understanding of what life would be like if they did.

The animistic perspective transforms a thing we use into someone we relate to. Our surroundings turn from scenery into family members. Just as it’s relatively easy to perceive the personality of a pet and recognize it as a member of the family, an animist would extend such personhood to all aspects of their world.

Could you be open to experiencing the personality of your favorite tree or stream or mountain? Have you ever felt inexplicably drawn to a certain place in your yard, your home, or the park? It’s where you feel naturally most comfortable, maybe also safer, more focused, even more powerful. What is it that your inner compass is tuning in to?

Beyond the ways in which such an orientation might enrich your subjective experience of your surroundings, there are potentially global repercussions to remembering and being reverent of the spirit of the world – even if we don’t fully embrace the animistic view.

Dr. John Reid of the Ngai Tahu Research Centre in New Zealand explains that when we mistreat the world through disregard for the spirit within, it becomes a vicious circle. Lacking a conscious relationship with nature, we take from pristine resources with no restraint, then we dump our waste back into them. This diminishes what the Maori call its mauri (lifeforce), and the reduction in its vitality makes it less supportive to humans. This willfully ignorant behavior and the hardship that results from it diminishes the mana (dignity / power / authority) of the humans involved.[1] The weakened mana of the humans causes them to act in increasingly desperate and irreverent ways, and the cycle continues.

It’s possible to transform this situation into a virtuous cycle, but it requires coming into right relationship with our planet. This means humbling ourselves and perhaps taking a cue from animistic cultures. If that sounds good to you, I encourage you to take another week to relate to your surroundings differently than usual.

What happens when you ask before taking? What happens when you give thanks to everything you encounter? What happens when you open yourself to the existence of a spiritual world? What happens when you feel into the dynamic between your body and the elements around you? What happens when you bring greater awareness to the act of consuming something? What happens if you do the same when throwing something away? What happens when you listen?

I believe that bringing consciousness to these relationships yields great benefits. Perhaps we stand to make our planet habitable by humans for longer, but for certain we enrich our mana as we re-weave ourselves into the living tapestry of this exceptional, gorgeous planet.

Be well,

Peter

 

(C) 2022 by Peter Borten

 

[1] Informative Maori dictionary here: https://maoridictionary.co.nz/

What if You Were Always Surrounded by Friends?

Unbeknownst to most Americans, the world is full of animists. According to Professor Stephen Asma of Columbia College Chicago, “Pret­ty much ev­ery­where ex­cept West­ern Eu­rope, the Middle East, and North America” is dom­i­nat­ed by an­i­mis­tic cultures.[i] Animism is the belief that everything has a soul or spiritual essence; not just living things, but also mountains, fire, the sky, the sea, and sometimes even words and human-made objects.

In practice, though, it’s more than just a belief. It’s a sensibility, a way of experiencing and interacting with the world. Animists relate to their surroundings with a certain intentionality, as if constantly among old friends.

To people in the developed world, such beliefs might seem primitive and superstitious. After all, who needs a world full of spirits when we have science? Science has given us explanations and inventions that have alleviated many hardships and dispelled so much fear.

But it hasn’t made us invincible or immune to fear. We’re still afraid of death, suffering, being alone, poverty, public humiliation, paper cuts, and so on. There’s little solace in science from these bugaboos.

Its other major shortcoming is that science has sucked the spirituality out of life. By reducing everything to cells and atoms, electromagnetic waves and neurotransmitters, it puts the whole phenomenal world beneath us. This promotes a certain feeling of ownership over the world – rather than a sense of belonging to it. If we put all our eggs into the science basket, life can seem random, lacking meaning and soul.

Science and Spirit aren’t mutually exclusive. But ever since early anthropologists looked down their noses at animistic cultures – seeing them as too dumb to know the difference between living and nonliving things, and giving their leaders justification to colonize and oppress them – the developed world has favored science as the ultimate authority. As we seek to right such wrongs, perhaps it’s worth considering not just what indigenous cultures lost, but what the oppressors also lost.

To an animist, the scientist is missing out on an entire plane of reality that’s beneath the surface and accessible only through an expansion of consciousness. To a scientist, the subjective reality of the animist’s consciousness is unmeasurable, untestable, unprovable, and therefore unscientific and even unreal.

What would be possible if we stopped using science to dominate or invalidate what we don’t understand? Can we concede – scientists included – that not everything is a scientific matter? This applies foremost to consciousness itself, which is entirely beyond the grasp of science, and arguably the only thing we know for certain to be real. We also know that humans yearn for a connection that’s beyond the ability of science to explain of provide.

You don’t need to be anti-science to be open to a spiritual reality. I say this as a scientist and animist.

If you’re open to it, I have a simple assignment for you to try this week. Consider this: how might your life be different if you treated your surroundings as if you were in relationship with them? Make it a lighthearted game.

What happens when you express gratitude to your bed, sheets, and pillow upon waking? What happens when you allow yourself to be in awe of the shimmering water that flows, as if by magic, from your showerhead? How does it feel to thank it for invigorating and purifying you? Does it feel any different to bless your food before eating it and thank it for giving itself to nourish you?

What is it like to thank your home for keeping you safe and comfortable? When you step outside, what happens when you experience the earth as the ever-present stability beneath your feet, supporting you and nurturing everything that grows upon it? What do you notice when you give names to the familiar trees or rocks in your neighborhood? How does it feel different to think of the sky as a beautiful, conscious dome over you versus your usual way? What changes when you think of all the animals you encounter as non-human people, each with an equally valid reason to be here as the human people you see?

And what happens when you listen and feel as if all these aspects of the world have something to communicate back to you?

When I say, “What happens?” I’m not (necessarily) asking, “Does your pillow respond, ‘Thanks for finally saying something! It was a pleasure to cradle your head all night!’?” More importantly, I’m asking, how does it make you feel to relate to the world in this way in comparison to your usual way? And if the answer is, “good” or “better” or “playful,” then keep going with it.

Be well,

Peter

 

(C) 2022 by Peter Borten

[i] Eichler, A. (2013, October 26). Animism is actually pretty reasonable. The Atlantic. Retrieved April 23, 2022, from https://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2011/01/animism-is-actually-pretty-reasonable/339112/

Five Powers of the Divine

After writing about nondual spirituality a couple weeks ago, I received several requests from readers for more information on nondual Tantra. Tantra is a complicated subject; there are many forms, and it means different things to different people. In the West, the word “Tantric” is usually combined with the word “sex,” and this pair of words has been used to sell millions of books and workshops on mystical sexual practices that have almost nothing to do with Tantra. But Tantra doesn’t need that lascivious association to be significant; it was hugely influential on the development of yoga, which (in some circles) is almost as popular as sex.

Since I can’t possibly explain this entire system in a brief article, I’m going to focus today on just one of its concepts, called the Five Acts of Divine Consciousness. It is explained in the beginning of a work called Pratyabhijna Hrdayam, “The Heart of Recognition,” written by Rajanaka Kṣemaraja around 1000 A.D.

These five “acts” (pancha kritya) describe the Tantric view of how our reality is created. As Ksemaraja says, “Reverence to the Divine, who ceaselessly performs the Five Acts, and who, by so doing, reveals the ultimate reality of one’s own Self, brimming over with the bliss of Consciousness!” Regardless of where your philosophical and spiritual sensibilities lie, I think you’ll find it an intriguing perspective.

  1. The first act, Srsti, means creation, emission, or the flowing forth of Self-expression. This is the process by which Divine Consciousness (use whatever word you like here – Love, Highest Self, God, Universe, Awareness, Goddess, Divine Light) expresses itself as something. It takes form. It emerges in the world as a person or a flower or a breeze.
  2. The second act, Sthiti, means holding, preservation, stasis, or maintenance. First Consciousness emerges in manifest form as something, then it holds this form – maybe for a moment, maybe for eons.
  3. The third act, Samhara, means dissolution, resorption, or retraction. After emerging in the world as something and sustaining it for a while, the form dissolves – or is reabsorbed or retracted – back into Consciousness. This is why death of a body is not seen as the end of life in this system – because the body was just a temporary emergence of Consciousness into form, which is then reabsorbed into itself. Thus, none of the vulnerabilities of your body actually threaten what you really are. And consciousness never ends.
  4. The fourth act, Tirodhana, means concealment, occlusion, or forgetting. An interesting property to ascribe to the Divine, no? Why would one of its five core acts be to conceal? Well, the explanation is that Undifferentiated Consciousness possesses all possible qualities; in order to manifest as one specific thing, it must conceal all the other qualities that don’t belong to that thing.

Additionally, it explains the limited awareness of sentient beings. When Consciousness emerges as, say, a human, as part of its Divine Play, it imparts itself with only a fraction of its unfathomable awareness. In the process, it forgets what it really is. In this way, rather than acting like its various creations, it immerses itself in them. It becomes them. It’s how you don’t realize you’re Divine Consciousness itself, instead believing you’re “only” a human, disconnected from your Source and all other humans. This also allows for each being to have the experience of free will.

  1. The fifth act, Anugraha, means revealing (revelation), remembering, or grace. Besides allowing for creative expression, the fourth act (Tirodhana) is also the reason why we suffer. We can’t see the truth of our reality and this is frightening and painful. But this is eventually resolved by Anugraha – when what was hidden is revealed and we remember. As author Christopher Wallis explains, it’s not meant to negate the act of concealment, but to bring it to fruition by revealing its deeper purpose: “Such reconciliation is thus also a reintegration; through it you experientially realize yourself as a complete and perfect expression of the deep pattern of the one Consciousness which moves and dances in all things.”

I’m curious to hear how this concept fits with your own spiritual worldview. How do you see things differently? Does this perspective feel more or less liberating than your own? Feel free to share your thoughts below.

Be well,

Peter


(C) 2017 by Peter Borten

What I Learned About Forgiveness for $400

When I was a teenager, I invested $400 in 20 years of anger and a big, hard, life-changing lesson. I had seen this guy around – a friend of a friend named Justin – carrying the exact model of guitar that I wanted, and there was a rumor that he was looking to sell it. I tracked him down in a parking lot by the beach where high schoolers hung out on summer nights.

He was among a group of kids smoking cigarettes on a Mexican blanket in the back of a van. As I approached him, he nodded at me in recognition, and I asked him about the guitar. He said he had paid $800 for the instrument but was willing to let it go for half of that because he needed money fast. So fast, in fact, that he wanted me to pay him for it on the spot even though he didn’t have the guitar with him. That way, he explained, he would know I was serious about it and he wouldn’t sell it to another guy that he had already promised it to. I went home and returned with my money, which I handed over, and he agreed to meet me at a coffee shop the next morning with the guitar.  

Only, as you can probably guess, he didn’t show up.

I found out where he lived and went to his house. He answered the door flanked by a large, red-faced man several years older than us who looked twitchy, and had scabs on his knuckles. I asked for the guitar.

“What guitar?” Justin replied. “Are you talking about my cousin’s guitar?”

“Yeah,” the man asked, “are you talking about my guitar?” and he pointed to the guitar, which lay on a dirty couch behind them.

“Well it’s my guitar actually,” I stated, trying to sound tougher than I felt. “I paid Justin 400 bucks for it yesterday.”

“Why would you make up a story like that?” his cousin challenged, sneering to reveal a mouthful of broken teeth. “He can’t sell my guitar. Can you, Justin?”

“Nope,” said Justin. “I barely know this loser.”

“Did this little boy give you 400 bucks?” Cousin asked.

“Of course not. Cuz then I’d have 400 bucks. But I’m broke, see?” and he pulled out his wallet and opened it to show that it was empty.  

“Well then,” said Cousin, turning back to me, “it looks like you just came here to try to cheat us and that’s not very nice.”

“You’re the ones who are cheating me!” I countered, but my instincts were telling me that no good would come out of pushing this.

“Is this little boy threatening us at our own house, Justin?” Cousin asked.

“It kinda sounds like it,” Justin replied. “It kinda sounds like he wants to fight.” The two of them edged toward me.

“I don’t want to fight,” I said, “I just want the guitar that I paid for.”

“If you don’t want trouble,” said Cousin, “then get off our porch and don’t show your face around here again.”

So I left.

At that age, in that time and place, I believed that getting an adult involved – even one with a badge – simply wasn’t an option. Not solving your own problems was looked down upon, and there was no real escape from retribution for squealing in a small town. No, the only way to manage such an issue was to beat someone up. My male friends said things like, “You need to go back over there and pound the money out of him!” But I was a skinny pacifist and Justin and his cousin were the burly sons of fishermen. I suggested that maybe a whole gang of us could visit Justin’s house, but my friends sheepishly declined, murmuring things like, “I don’t have any beef with him . . .”

I only encountered Justin once more in person. I ran into him at a restaurant a few months later, where he was sitting at a table with his friends (no Cousin, luckily). I walked over to him and said, “You still owe me 400 bucks.”

“Yeah?” he replied, “Get in line. I owe money to a lot of people.” And at this he shrugged and looked to his friends who all laughed and started yelling out how much he owed each of them.

I wish I could say that was the end of it, but I had hundreds – no, thousands – of encounters with him in my mind during and after this time. The incident generated many negative conclusions: that I was an idiot, that people are bad and untrustworthy, that I was weak, that I wasn’t manly, that I couldn’t count on my friends, and so on. I had daydreams in which I would imagine myself destroying his life, or going back with a gun or a knife and getting my money, or stealing the guitar.

Sometimes I would forget about the whole thing for a month or six months or a year, but whenever I remembered it again I still felt upset.

It was many years before I entertained the idea of forgiveness. I didn’t like him and I didn’t want to give him anything he didn’t deserve, but I was beginning to get a sense of just how much my own resentment had poisoned me. So I tried it. I said to myself, “I forgive Justin for stealing my money,” and I felt a little relieved.

But shortly thereafter, I caught myself replaying the story and feeling angry again. I hadn’t let it go. I was frustrated. I forgave him again. And then I caught myself again. And I repeated this cycle a few more times before a deeper understanding began to dawn on me.

First, I decided that it would be worth $400 to really let this go. So I reframed it – I decided I was letting him have the $400 willingly so that I could just be done with this. I hoped that if I could convince myself that I was choosing this, there would be nothing to resent.

Unfortunately, this strategy wasn’t enough to help me get over the whole thing, but there was value in being rational about the various costs and payoffs involved. I was getting nothing but pain for my $400 as long as I held onto my story. And, my wife Briana once reminded me, if I had taken on those guys: “You would have been paying four hundred dollars to get your butt kicked.”

Second, I discovered that forgiveness is almost always a many-layered process and constitutes more work than we tend to expect. In my case, I had some anger about having gotten ripped off, but I was gradually getting to a place where $400 wasn’t that much money. The actual theft wasn’t the biggest thing. More bothersome was the sense that my instincts were wrong, that I was helpless, that I was a wimp, and especially that I should have done something differently.

I looked long and hard at all of this, and it took me on a deeper journey into my psyche that revealed that these thoughts all had deeper roots. There was a certain mistrust for the world that was important to recognize, but more importantly, a mistrust of myself, and lots of self-blame. I systematically unearthed everything I found and forgave it all.

Third, I realized that true forgiveness is not a single act, but a commitment. I’ve written about this idea in several articles and books, but never before told the story that led me to it. Until I had this revelation, I believed that a proper act of forgiveness should last forever and the resentment should never come back. Thus, I had also some self-blame around not having forgiven correctly, since it wasn’t sticking.

Then I learned that the “correct” way to forgive is to make an agreement with myself that I am going to forgive over and over, as many times as it takes. It’s also an agreement to be mindful enough to notice when I’ve picked up my resentment again, to stop indulging in it, and let it go once more.

So, in the end, perhaps $400 was a bargain for the insights I finally got.

What have you invested in (whether with dollars, energy, time, or some other commodity) that has thus far yielded only pain? Is it possible to reframe it such that you offer to willingly give what has already been given – in exchange for growth, insight, and freedom?

Where is forgiveness in order? Besides the most obvious object of forgiveness, what “sub-resentments” exist? (It’s worth getting a pen and paper for this, since it might be a long list.) Are you willing to make a lifelong commitment to forgive and thus be freed from a story that has kept you enslaved? It’s heroism, truly.

Be well,

Peter


(C) 2015 by Peter Borten