All content of this post is from the book "If the Buddha Dated" by Charlotte Kasl, PH.D.
"I'm so worried about keeping this man," Julia says, as she pictures Buddha and her sitting together under the Bo tree. "He's the best thing to come along in years."
"Have you noticed the beauty of leaves on the tree?" Buddha says.
"Buddha! What the hell does that have to do with what I'm saying? I'm upset. I need help."
"Help for what?" Buddha says.
"To feel better?" Julia says.
"How about being exactly where you are?"
"Why in God's name would I want to keep feeling this way?"
"Because it's a part of you - a part that needs your awareness and compassion."
"But what about Tony, what should I do?"
"You need to come face to face with a truth about yourself. There is a big empty place you're trying to fill up with this man. You're clutching to this relationship to feel secure, but security comes from completely letting go of all control and allowing yourself to feel whatever you fear. You are trying to create solid ground under your feet so you don't have to experience being alone, but if you would let go, you'd find that the emptiness you fear is really a still and restful place."
"But what do I do with this anxiety?"
"Do nothing. Sit with it quietly, feel your breath. Then ask yourself the truly important question:
Why are you so afraid of someone leaving you or of being alone? Be more honest. It's the only refuge you have."
"There is an expression, 'take refuge in the Buddha,' meaning take refuge in your own true and perfect Buddha nature. Our refuge is in being exactly where we are - not dramatizing our problems by replaying them in our heads, telling stories to our friends, eliciting sympathy and convincing ourselves that this is a very big deal. Our refuge is in the stillness of being the compassionate witness to our panic and fear - not judging it as good or bad, just accepting the what is of the moment.
I feel anxious. Hmm, that's interesting. What's this about? What am I telling myself? What does it look like, feel like?
Breath. Feel your body. Does the anxiety have color, sound, texture, form? Where is it? Breath, again, be with it. It's energy, just like a cloud, smoke, fire or water. All your feelings, thoughts, and anxiety are just energy. Stay with it. Breath in your frustration, breath out clarity and light to your friend, to all people feeling frustrated in relationships.
If we remember that everything is our Buddha nature, we smile on ourselves, and remember we are now grown up. People will come and go. A new relationship may or may not work out, but we can walk the spiritual path - open, natural and honest - and see what happens. If we realize that our ego creates soap operas to drown out the deeper dilemmas of existence, we can relax, be still, follow our breath and watch our melodrama from a distance. As our fears subside, we come out of our cocoon and once again notice the trees, delight in the smell of fresh laundry or children playing, and come back into remembering that we're part of all that is.
From this safe place, we can remove our masks, look into the mirror and accept this package of imperfections, fears, and blemishes. We remember, too, that our new friend is also a package deal - imperfect and beautiful - no more able to salve our hurts and fill our emptiness than the masks we just hung on the wall."
Namaste, my lovely friends! <3
Friday, October 14, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Letting Love In
I finished up the amazing book "The Book of Secrets" from Deepak Chopra! I highly recommend it!!
I have now moved on to another enlightening book my friend Kyle recommended . . . "If the Buddha dated" by Charlotte Kasl, PhD. Following is chapter 6 from her book. I was going to share just a portion but it was all just too good to leave anything out!
'Imagine an infant, some two months old, cradled in his mother's arms, nursing . . . adrift in the oceanic, timeless, boundless world of infancy, his being and that of his care taking human partner merged.' --- Maggie Scarf, Intimate Partners
"Intimacy requires an ability to both merge and be separate, to come together and be apart, like oscillating on a giant swing from oneness to separateness, creating a constant rhythm and, for many, feelings of anxiety. We sometimes feel anxious because falling in love and starting a new relationship resurrects any buried feelings about our original attachment to our mother or a primary caregiver. We were once completely merged with our mother and, often unconsciously, we still desire to find that feeling of union. We want someone to completely enfold us and take care of us.
As children we needed to be held and protected so we wouldn't feel cast into an abyss; at the same time we needed to be free to leave our mother's arms to explore the fascinating world around us. This required a mother who could hold us close one minute, and release us the next. If our parents had unresolved problems with oneness or separateness, they may have been indifferent when they held us or uncomfortable when we wanted to be separate, explore interests, or have friends of our own. Our parents may have written scripts for us or seen us as a reflection of their own worth, rather than a separate people.
From her earliest memory, Margie remembered her mother encouraging her to be a doctor. She gave her doctor toys, books on doctors, and endlessly talked about her daughter's future career.
It was as if she wanted to be able to say, "My daughter, the doctor." I don't think she ever asked me what I wanted to be. She also talked about what I ate nearly every day and constantly weighed me - you'd think it was her body. She was incredibly concerned with the status of boys I dated and spent a fortune trying to dress me in very classy feminine clothes when I preferred blue jeans. She was obsessed with me, but never really interested in who I was.
Marcie felt gripped by guilt whenever she explored activities she enjoyed that didn't meet with her mother's approval, and felt incredibly disloyal when she dated a man from a lower middle-class background. Her mother missed no opportunity to cut him down. Marcie's mother fits the classic picture of a narcissist - someone who sees the world through her own eyes, writes scripts for others, and is unable to understand her impact on the people around her.
Intrusive or narcissistic parents give their children the covert message that forging a separate identity is a crime punishable by abandonment. In other words, the parent instills the message, "You hurt me if you disagree with me, you hurt me if you love someone else or won't be who I want you to be." This puts children in a double bind between their natural desire for their authentic self, and their desire for their parents' approval.
False beliefs become ingrained:
"I'm responsible for everyone's happiness"
"The truth hurts people."
"You are going to hurt me."
"Being myself is wrong."
This makes both the spiritual path and relationships very difficult because of the tremendous fear of being authentic or bringing up conflict or even having an opinion. Until we become emotionally separate from an intrusive controlling parent and release the accompanying guilt - which is really a cover for our rage or anger - we are likely to get into distant or chaotic push-pull relationships.
Whenever someone gets close to us we tend to see them as the critical or intrusive parents, and misinterpret their motivation and intent. To talk openly about our fears and opinions feels like pulling fish hooks out of our throat. Instead of experiencing oneness and separateness, we often vacillate between compliance and defiance - being the good child or the bad child, the one who obeys or the one who rebels.
Separating from a controlling parent can feel as if we're being disloyal and cruel. For some, it feels like giving up an addiction. And the guilt - the symptom of withdrawal - can be gut-wrenching.
Releasing guilt requires that we connect with our underlying resentment and anger. This crime of breaking a symbiotic loyalty tie is a necessary one, however, because only through forging a separate identity and finding our authentic voice, can we give birth to our own true self and see others clearly.
Marcie was determined to separate from her mother. While moving two thousand miles away to attend college helped, her mother's voice still lived in her head, and she still felt guilty if she didn't call every few days. With intensive counseling she slowly realized she wasn't responsible for her mother's well-being and that she had the right to love another. Two years later she took a major step in separating from her mother by revealing she as in love with a woman. In the week before she mailed her "coming out" letter she had digestive problems and flashes of anxiety, but mailed the letter anyhow, much to her eventual relief. As the old beliefs became less tenacious, she became freer to deepen her bond with Ellie.
our problem. Hmm, I'm getting jealous, even rageful. What's fueling these feelings? What old wounds are these stories "protecting"?
If you are the one being pressured to limit yourself or give up your dreams to placate your partner, it's important to withstand the pressure and continue on your path calmly, kindly, and with compassion for your partner's predicament. You can let your partner know you're not withdrawing your love, you are expanding your life. Your beloved may or may not hear you, but staying true to yourself in the only hope for a spiritually centered relationship, and it's the only way to stay on your journey.
In any relationship you can notice your feelings when you come together and leave to be apart. Is the transition smooth, free, and open, or is it sticky, wrenching, fearful? Do you often stay longer than you meant to or linger on the phone because it's painful to separate? Do you pressure your new love to be with you, and feel empty when you're alone? Just notice. Stay with the experience. What is it telling you?
As we evolve on the spiritual path, we find a balance between being together - welcoming, present and alive - and being separate, because life is rich either way.
Our emotional experience of making transitions between oneness and separateness parallels the ambivalence most people feel on the path of spiritual development. We want inner peace but we're scared to surrender our rigid ego or interrupt our busy schedule to experience stillness (or the agitation that comes when we attempt to be still). We want a partner, but we shy away from pain or discomfort, or the possibility of loss. We want intimacy, but we don't want to give up doing things our way, or to let go of our longing to have someone take care of us. These fears come from the stories that conceal our wounds.
It might help to remember that at an energy level, win or lose its all the same: our tears of joy and tears of pain are both one energy, the flow of who we are. We can either bargain, hold back, and hang onto comfort and security, or we can take a deep breath, and say take me, and leap into the fire."
That's Chapter 6. Such an awesome book!! I highly recommend it!!
Namaste, my Friends of Love!
I have now moved on to another enlightening book my friend Kyle recommended . . . "If the Buddha dated" by Charlotte Kasl, PhD. Following is chapter 6 from her book. I was going to share just a portion but it was all just too good to leave anything out!
'Imagine an infant, some two months old, cradled in his mother's arms, nursing . . . adrift in the oceanic, timeless, boundless world of infancy, his being and that of his care taking human partner merged.' --- Maggie Scarf, Intimate Partners
"Intimacy requires an ability to both merge and be separate, to come together and be apart, like oscillating on a giant swing from oneness to separateness, creating a constant rhythm and, for many, feelings of anxiety. We sometimes feel anxious because falling in love and starting a new relationship resurrects any buried feelings about our original attachment to our mother or a primary caregiver. We were once completely merged with our mother and, often unconsciously, we still desire to find that feeling of union. We want someone to completely enfold us and take care of us.
As children we needed to be held and protected so we wouldn't feel cast into an abyss; at the same time we needed to be free to leave our mother's arms to explore the fascinating world around us. This required a mother who could hold us close one minute, and release us the next. If our parents had unresolved problems with oneness or separateness, they may have been indifferent when they held us or uncomfortable when we wanted to be separate, explore interests, or have friends of our own. Our parents may have written scripts for us or seen us as a reflection of their own worth, rather than a separate people.
From her earliest memory, Margie remembered her mother encouraging her to be a doctor. She gave her doctor toys, books on doctors, and endlessly talked about her daughter's future career.
It was as if she wanted to be able to say, "My daughter, the doctor." I don't think she ever asked me what I wanted to be. She also talked about what I ate nearly every day and constantly weighed me - you'd think it was her body. She was incredibly concerned with the status of boys I dated and spent a fortune trying to dress me in very classy feminine clothes when I preferred blue jeans. She was obsessed with me, but never really interested in who I was.
Marcie felt gripped by guilt whenever she explored activities she enjoyed that didn't meet with her mother's approval, and felt incredibly disloyal when she dated a man from a lower middle-class background. Her mother missed no opportunity to cut him down. Marcie's mother fits the classic picture of a narcissist - someone who sees the world through her own eyes, writes scripts for others, and is unable to understand her impact on the people around her.
Intrusive or narcissistic parents give their children the covert message that forging a separate identity is a crime punishable by abandonment. In other words, the parent instills the message, "You hurt me if you disagree with me, you hurt me if you love someone else or won't be who I want you to be." This puts children in a double bind between their natural desire for their authentic self, and their desire for their parents' approval.
False beliefs become ingrained:
"I'm responsible for everyone's happiness"
"The truth hurts people."
"You are going to hurt me."
"Being myself is wrong."
This makes both the spiritual path and relationships very difficult because of the tremendous fear of being authentic or bringing up conflict or even having an opinion. Until we become emotionally separate from an intrusive controlling parent and release the accompanying guilt - which is really a cover for our rage or anger - we are likely to get into distant or chaotic push-pull relationships.
Whenever someone gets close to us we tend to see them as the critical or intrusive parents, and misinterpret their motivation and intent. To talk openly about our fears and opinions feels like pulling fish hooks out of our throat. Instead of experiencing oneness and separateness, we often vacillate between compliance and defiance - being the good child or the bad child, the one who obeys or the one who rebels.
Separating from a controlling parent can feel as if we're being disloyal and cruel. For some, it feels like giving up an addiction. And the guilt - the symptom of withdrawal - can be gut-wrenching.
Releasing guilt requires that we connect with our underlying resentment and anger. This crime of breaking a symbiotic loyalty tie is a necessary one, however, because only through forging a separate identity and finding our authentic voice, can we give birth to our own true self and see others clearly.
Marcie was determined to separate from her mother. While moving two thousand miles away to attend college helped, her mother's voice still lived in her head, and she still felt guilty if she didn't call every few days. With intensive counseling she slowly realized she wasn't responsible for her mother's well-being and that she had the right to love another. Two years later she took a major step in separating from her mother by revealing she as in love with a woman. In the week before she mailed her "coming out" letter she had digestive problems and flashes of anxiety, but mailed the letter anyhow, much to her eventual relief. As the old beliefs became less tenacious, she became freer to deepen her bond with Ellie.
our problem. Hmm, I'm getting jealous, even rageful. What's fueling these feelings? What old wounds are these stories "protecting"?
If you are the one being pressured to limit yourself or give up your dreams to placate your partner, it's important to withstand the pressure and continue on your path calmly, kindly, and with compassion for your partner's predicament. You can let your partner know you're not withdrawing your love, you are expanding your life. Your beloved may or may not hear you, but staying true to yourself in the only hope for a spiritually centered relationship, and it's the only way to stay on your journey.
In any relationship you can notice your feelings when you come together and leave to be apart. Is the transition smooth, free, and open, or is it sticky, wrenching, fearful? Do you often stay longer than you meant to or linger on the phone because it's painful to separate? Do you pressure your new love to be with you, and feel empty when you're alone? Just notice. Stay with the experience. What is it telling you?
As we evolve on the spiritual path, we find a balance between being together - welcoming, present and alive - and being separate, because life is rich either way.
Our emotional experience of making transitions between oneness and separateness parallels the ambivalence most people feel on the path of spiritual development. We want inner peace but we're scared to surrender our rigid ego or interrupt our busy schedule to experience stillness (or the agitation that comes when we attempt to be still). We want a partner, but we shy away from pain or discomfort, or the possibility of loss. We want intimacy, but we don't want to give up doing things our way, or to let go of our longing to have someone take care of us. These fears come from the stories that conceal our wounds.
It might help to remember that at an energy level, win or lose its all the same: our tears of joy and tears of pain are both one energy, the flow of who we are. We can either bargain, hold back, and hang onto comfort and security, or we can take a deep breath, and say take me, and leap into the fire."
That's Chapter 6. Such an awesome book!! I highly recommend it!!
Namaste, my Friends of Love!
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