Wholeheartedness and the World Out There

                                                                                                                                                        *                                                                                                                                                              “Change in society is of secondary importance; that will come about naturally, inevitably, when you as a human being bring about change in yourself.” – Jiddu Krishnamurti

Are you strong-hearted? Can you be gracious with yourself if not?

Are you wholehearted? Can you be generous with yourself if not?

Are you open-hearted? Can you be compassionate with yourself if not?

Are you kindhearted? Can you be kind with yourself if not?

If you are not these things with yourself, you are not these things with others. If you are weak-hearted, half-hearted, closed-hearted, or mean-spirited, let these habits go.

Knowledge tells us that for person to be alive, pulse, respiration, consumption and waste are required. If not these, no life.

Wisdom teaches that life is creativity—gradations of creativity. The more creativity you express, the more alive you are. If you are not creating, you are dead—whether you think otherwise or not.

Creativity requires strong-, whole-, open-, and kindheartedness, though you may believe you have evidence to the contrary.

Attending to the world out there is distraction until you properly attend to things within. Give yourself over to processes bringing about your graciousness, your generosity, your compassion and your kindness.

Article & image:
http://www.thisiscolossal.com/2013/02/impressive-chalk-portrait-drawn-on-the-streets-of-paris-by-horocue/ 
Impressive Chalk Portrait Drawn on the Streets of Paris by François Pelletier by Christopher Jobson 

Human Canvas

                                                                                          

                                                                                         Dane at Le Moulin de la Galette, Renoir, 1876
Capturing on the canvas 
of our soul
          our life task
     —some say.

The Maestro 
bequeathing each  
its pentimento
          traces of our Being
      —some say.

Residing 
concealed 
          concealed
‘neath myriad 
     brushstrokes 
–textures– of
culture
     ancestry 
          family
               personhood 
     —some say.

Paints of adaptation…
     elegant 
          coarse
—some say.

Capture this
          this 
     your essence 
—some say.

© 2015 Stephen Victor

Self-Cultivation

I’ve had the good fortune of visiting the Ju Ming Museum in New Taipei. Ju Ming is a revered sculptor in Taiwan, New York and Paris. I am moved by the man and his work. Also by his capacity to identify and maintain a process of genuinely becoming and being himself–and, for expressing his unique creative talents.

In his teens Ju Ming apprenticed as a wood carver and though receiving accolades for his work, he wanted to become and express more. He re-apprenticed himself to a sculptor who directed him to take up Tai Chi. He continues the practice to this day. After his apprenticeship he realized that were he to become more than a younger version of his mentor, he needed to let go of everything he had learned, from him and his first mentor. Additionally he let go of attending to the amalgam of domesticating voices in his head.

In this letting go he began feeling into and listening to the materials he worked with. They partnered with him co-informing the singularly of his creativity. All these disciplines he labeled “self-cultivation”.

This is the loveliest and most succinct articulation of the necessary processes for fulfilling our human promise of becoming truly ourselves, and expressing our unique creative talents. The wisdom of his second mentor needs mention: asking Ju Ming to undertake a movement practice involving Chi (energy distinct from body and mind) enabled Ming to open in Awareness to the Mystery’s Intent Forces thereby informing his creativity. Utterly brilliant!

Looking for more in your life? Model the master.

Out-breath

When your nuance 
insinuated itself into the solitary reverie
in which I toiled,
I apprehended 
but the singularity of my belonging.

Then 
your particular motion, 
articulating on my anxieties,
became the collapsing of 
estrangement’s glory
     …for which I had no understanding.

I believed myself so ill-prepared,
so ill-prepared
for the inviting loveliness 
of you…

The fixation of my aloofness  
has not longer ground 
to predicate my
ignorance, my arrogance.

You…
the undoing of my 
aloneness.

© 2015 Stephen Victor 

Suffering

                       after Bert Hellinger and Hunter Beaumont

A man approaches…
sits between 
the oracles.

He asks 
how do I proceed?

       With what?

I gave my friend a kidney,
the second given him.

His body rejected the first.

      Now it eschews mine.

      Now I too am unwell.

The donor’s phantom kidney hauntingly utters:
                  You had no right to kill me.

The recipient walks 
      into deaths’ arms

Oracle to man’s left:
      You interfered with your friend’s fate.

Oracle to his right:
      Knowledge is insufficient,
problematical.

      Wisdom is what’s needed.

So oft 
unsought 
      undetected
            unapplied.

So oft
suffering is of our own making.

Being Yourself: Someone Wants to be a Poet

“It is clear that we must trust what is difficult; everything alive trusts in it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself any way it can and is spontaneously itself, tries to be itself at all costs and against all opposition.” – Rainer Maria Rilke

Recently while talking with a friend about writing I evoked a memory of an evening writing class I started in the Navy. We wrote the first evening submitting our pieces. In the second the instructor sat on her desk reading from our papers.

She cynically read the first line of mine with exasperation and incredulity stating “God! Someone wants to be a poet!” I stopped breathing. Rolling her eyes she threw my paper to the side of her desk for effect. I don’t remember the remainder of that evening’s class nor did I return to others. My first line concerned itself with a handmade wooden boat pulled high on the sands while yet buffeted by the waves of a rising tide, and the sounds of the surf and wind.

As I continued talking with my friend my neck began to hurt and stiffen and my throat tightened. In my mind’s eye I was watching images of ancestors on my mother’s side: they were inured to constraint upon constraint of their expression. I saw too my own history of constraints: In the seventh grade for example, the band teacher told me to put the sticks to my snare drum down and return to study hall as “I was having too much fun and not taking class seriously.” I did as he directed.

The Mystery is bent on changing us. Though not exclusively, we are changed by how we navigate difficulties. The late anthropologist Angeles Arrien said “Neither push to make things happen nor hold yourself back.” If we collapse in the face of difficulties, we are holding ourselves back. If we blame or attack, we are caught up in the folly of pushing to make things happen. Each response is self-defeating and disempowering. **

In each of my examples I collapsed. Proving we are more powerful than opposing forces never occurs through attacking, pushing-back, resisting, or collapsing. Rather, prevailing ensues from becoming a countervailing force equal to the opposition in each moment: neither pushing nor collapsing. Prevailing is standing in our relaxed sovereign power; it is being guided by non-ordinary forces informing the what and how of our next actions.

The seventh grade boy in band and the nineteen year old in the writing class were ill-prepared to do anything but collapse. They lacked a connection to Wisdom: They had unhealed ancestral, familial and personal injuries (Aka: difficulties) awaiting remedy. Collapsing in their respective circumstances was inevitable, of necessity; though painful their collapses were boons to later changes and healing.

The boards or timbers comprising the hulls of beached boats shrink leaving the boats devoid of buoyancy. For these boats to fulfill their purpose they need be submerged in water for extended periods. Only then may they be surfaced and placed in service. The waters and seas are feminine. At nineteen I was unaware of the absences of feminine nurturing in my upbringing; of her absences in the lives of my parents—and those before them, and those before them.

The crush of difficulties and our proper responses to them gives rise to gravitas—our soul weight—our rightly weighted keels ensuring our stability, our seaworthiness, and our capacities to counterbalance forces opposing us.

The lecturer, explorer and mystic Paul Richards reminds us that our power is assessed not in how hard a punch we can throw but rather in how hard a punch we can take. Being gracious, embodying an equanimity, consenting to and relaxing into the difficulties we face garners us greater ease in our lives. So too does being attuned and in touch with the Mystery. She provides clarity regarding what to do and how to do it. Being so attuned furthers our capacities in seeing and appreciating beauty—in our difficulties—and in all things. (Beauty is code for the feminine.)

The younger me, the one having too much fun in band unwittingly knew the rhythm of Life was something other than seriousness. The guy in the writing class was unaware of his deeper intent in taking the class: he wanted to learn to skipper his boat. Thanks to the selves I’ve been I am in open waters now reacquainting myself with non-ordinary Life rhythms.

I want a poetic life and to be myself. Both are more easily realized by being kind, generous, gracious and compassionate with my Self and others. Gratitude helps too. In the cycling repetitions of Beauty in the canon in which I find myself I ask—“How is the snare drum in Ravel’s Bolero?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KgpEru9lhw

* The Russian ballerina Ida Rubinstein commissioned Ravel’s Bolero, thus her painting by Valentin Servo.

** There are times of course when the Mystery demands that we fight for our lives or those of others. We know this. Let go of any beliefs standing between you and genuinely caring for, defending and preserving yourself and others in your care.

Being Ourselves, Unafraid

“You must learn one thing. 
The world was made to be free in. 
Give up all the other worlds
except the one in which you belong.” – David Whyte

One of the most challenging aspects of life is giving ourselves over to all that wants expression through us. For example: writing — poetry, fiction, non-fiction; drawing; playing a bow and string instrument; engaging in long hours of intimate lovemaking; providing counsel or facilitation to others; directly experiencing the profound beauty of the earth, and delighting in another’s expression of genius. My longing is boundless.

Things longed for are cues from our genuine selves. Consenting to who we are and what we love, and the giving ourselves over to the doing of what we love, is the larger part of genuinely being ourselves. The smaller part is doing the necessary life sustenance things: managing resources, doing our work, providing and caring for family, repairing the car, doing the dishes, etcetera.

Being ourselves is a subversive proposition and a harrowing undertaking. Being ourselves requires letting go of being whelmed by what is occurring “out there.” It is letting go of resisting and fighting the dramas of the 7.2 billion others peopling the planet. It is letting go of our cultural story — “giving up all the other worlds except the one in which you belong.” 

Through inhabiting the world in which we belong without reservation, we recognize that our own world was made to be free in. Not the one “out there” for it will always be what it is — something other.

Etymology sources reveal the early meaning of the English word free as “beloved” — both noun and adjective forms. Todays connotations of being unconstrained are lovely yet consider this: Our worlds were made to be beloved in: my world, your world. Beloved and unconstrained! Does this not lend itself to self-acceptance, self-worth — self-love? All this irrespective of others and external circumstances…whew! 

Imagine the communities arising from these worlds.

As to the unafraid bit: Personally, I suspect my body will always fear death. Some other fears of mine will evaporate. As for those remaining: I am disentangling myself from their effects — doing what I love nonetheless. Neither I, nor anyone, need be slave to fears simply because they exist.

Happy New Year, 2015!

Today there are some forty calendars used widely in the world; a handful used less broadly; some twenty others no longer in use. And fifteen or sixteen others proposed. 

Britain’s, now deceased futurist and science fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke, reminded us “The future is not what it used to be.” I contend neither are the past or present.

Those of us shunted about by the Gregorian calendar — the conceptual architecture within which we change, constrain and expand ourselves, and our lives — are in the habit of speaking of New Year’s resolutions. Making them is another matter still — so too the discipline of implementing them.

The root of the word resolution is “solv”. It means to loosen. In content, to loosen involves letting go, presumably to make way for something else — another thought, action, or way of being.

What if, in our pattern of making or not making resolutions, we actually let go of conceptual and psychological time. What if we loosened our grip on the imposed intent of others and our cultures? Of course keep your time-based agreements and responsibilities. Yet, I am reminding us to directly experience the experience of our lives: those moments for example of doing things we love…those engagements when hours pass in what we experience as seconds, minutes.

When we capitulate to believing our thoughts and psychological experience are the real things in life; when we confuse them with the richness of experiencing our sensate and energetic experience of life; when we believe them to be life itself, we miss the happiness and beauty ever present in the loveliness and fierceness of life’s lapidary. Actual experience is the substance of life!

The protagonist in the 1998 American film Lulu on the Bridge states “I’m tired of being someone else’s idea of who I am.” Whether the future is what it used to be, or what we long it to become, choosing direct experience over conceptual is choosing life; choosing to live by your own intent; being yourself – living genuinely your own life, and doing the things you love is a recipe for happiness in the New Year. 

What else will come will come.

Wishing you happiness in your New Year!

Pentimento

Palomino hair 
           captivating hips,
           fecund. 

Eschewing eye contact,
interaction.
          Sovereign.

Enthralled by the inanities
of London dailies…
         nonetheless, 
lovely 
         — ordinarily so.

Insinuating her petite body 
into crowded queue

Immediate
         faintly forward
Pressed as proximity permits
sans physical touch.

She, 
dwarfed by the mass of my body
         — enfolded within the 
field-space of my being — 

Bent on preventing intrusion 
        — imposition 

my honor 
stills and silences 
the maleness 
of body and mind.

In this 
        non-ordinary place
ineffable constituencies 
of sentience
apprehend the other
        — subtle, nuanced — 

delight
        dance
pirouette
                 in

Essential recognition. 

         …the gentle currency of intimacy.

©2014 Stephen Victor

Love’s Reclamation

for Victoria and Andrew

O Grief, 
         genderless colorless wretch 
                   humorless 
crushing palm on larynx
         encircled brawny fingers
cancel carotid canal’s languid pulse 

…an intent 
more powerful than ought possess.


This breathless brutal — ineffable  
dissolves my prowess

siphons off the voice of my flaccid body 

                   lungs burning 
amidst ceaselessly wrenching anguish.


This taut tension of Grief’s clasp 
         cleaves
                  compresses
                                 draws.


My amorphous and cadaverous body 
         unbendingly 
                  succumbs 
below dark fecund humus 
         — my crematory — 
                  my baptismal grave.

Whether 
this extant heart and corpse 
                  remains cadaveric

or raised by 
         Lazarus’s levitational nod
is not of my choosing…


The strings of this fate 
         are held by the stealthy fingers
                  of the Mystery’s
Karmic Puppeteer. 


Should she erect 
an elevated life from this morbidity 

                  — the one rising 
will not be the one 
         annihilated 


For this risen one
         forged into
                  knowing  

visitations of
Grief’s fierce ruthlessness 
and
a summer’s day fragrance
of honeysuckle


are compassions each.

© 2014 Stephen Victor