The three centers of intelligence: working with my gut, heart, and head

Posted on by
3

Have you ever noticed that sometimes life seems fairly uneventful, day after day being more of the same?

And then there are those times when a lot of shifts, planned and unplanned, occur?

It’s as if you aren’t even consciously looking for new doors to open. (The unconscious is something else, always working for you, always aware, and it will get your attention when necessary.)

Then you decide to open a new door, and other new doors open unexpectedly.

Yesterday I got a voice mail from my realtor that a buyer may make an offer on my house today and a cable TV show, Sell This House, is interested in the possibility of staging my house, which could increase the value and definitely help the house sell.

Rich choices, huh?

I have never seen this show! I’m looking for someone with cable TV so I can watch it on Saturday morning before agreeing to anything.

And then there’s this: For a long time (actually for most of my adult life), I had a job, and it was my source of income.

Then I became a yoga teacher, which added another source of income.

Here lately, I’ve been selling stuff on Craigslist, stuff that I don’t want to take with me into my downsized, radically simplified life. There’s another (temporary) source of income.

I also recently studied with a Reiki master. I would love to do Reiki treatments on others when I’m ready, and that could also bring in income — although an inner voice tells me to offer Reiki on a donation basis until I hear otherwise, and to do Reiki on myself for 21 days before offering it to others.

In my first week of not being employed (having had a clear NO response to continuing to work where I worked), I’ve felt insecure and looked at classified ads for jobs.

I learned that I have a strong NO response to doing anything technical or long-term and a strong YES response to working with healing, health, food, and writing. Healthy grocery stores, garden centers, supplements, and so on. Even if part-time, temporary, seasonal!

It has been said that we humans have three centers of intelligence in our bodies: our heads, hearts, and guts.

These YES and NO responses come from my gut and not my brain.

NO is a definite contraction, a feeling/sensation close to fear, in my gut/second chakra/hara/dan tien.

YES is an expansion in my heart center.

My head center questions, witnesses, records, informs, integrates. It’s the least powerful center at this time in my life, which is strange.

I have mostly been a head- and heart-oriented person. Having my gut tell me what to do — and override my head — is new. Sometimes my head and heart disagree with my gut, and I experience inner conflict.

Gut feelings are strong and not to be overridden, I have learned.

Sometimes it feels as if I am being steered in a certain direction, and that I don’t have a lot of choice about it. I can just “let go and let God.” I can fight and struggle with it, or I can surrender.

I can only have faith that whatever is steering me is the Universe leading me to my highest purpose. I don’t know right now. That’s the kind of clarity that’s much easier to find in hindsight!

I need a true break from work, even though it is good to learn about the job market. All my centers are okay with this.

And I realized yesterday that instead of one, I may have several income streams all helping to support me financially, all doing things I love to do anyway.

How sweet is that!

I’d love to hear from you about using your head, heart, and gut centers. Which one predominates, and how has this changed?

Sukha and dukkha, expansion and contraction

Posted on by
Reply

Sukha is a Sanskrit and Pali word often translated as “ease,” “happiness,” “pleasure,” or “bliss.”

In yoga, sukhasana is the Sanskrit for “easy pose,” which is simple cross-legged sitting.

Dukkha is a Sanskrit and Pali word often translated as “suffering.” The First Noble Truth of Buddhism: Life is suffering. Life is dukkha.

Wikipedia provides these meanings. Note the range, from mere discomfort to misery and anguish:

suffering, pain, discontent, unsatisfactoriness, unhappiness, sorrow, affliction, anxiety, dissatisfaction, discomfort, anguish, stress, misery, and frustration

Wikipedia’s entry on dukkha includes this on the etymology of the word:

Sargeant, et. al. (2009: p. 303) provides the etymology of the Sanskrit words sukha and dukkha:

It is perhaps amusing to note the etymology of the words sukha (pleasure, comfort, bliss) and dukkha (misery, unhappiness, pain). The ancient Aryans who brought the Sanskrit language to India were a nomadic, horse- and cattle-breeding people who travelled in horse- or ox-drawn vehicles. Su and dus are prefixes indicating good or bad. The word kha, in later Sanskrit meaning “sky,” “ether,” or “space,” was originally the word for “hole,” particularly an axle hole of one of the Aryan’s vehicles. Thus sukha … meant, originally, “having a good axle hole,” while dukkha meant “having a poor axle hole,” leading to discomfort.

Good space, bad space. Pleasure, pain. Sweetness, stress. Sukha, dukkha.

How about this word pair? Expansion, contraction.

These terms get the concept across in a less judgmental way, and they are keys to your energy map. Does something expand or contract you? Is your mind or heart expanding or contracting? Big mind, small mind, big heart, small heart. Expansion, contraction.

Works for me.

Grounding, facing fear, Reiki with cats

Posted on by
Reply

Fear

I woke up today and decided to give myself Reiki before I even got out of bed.

This transition from a full-time serious stressful but secure job to a state of limbo — and eventual return to school to study integrative medicine — has included some moments of feeling fear in my gut.

So much is uncertain — when will my house sell? Will I get what I’m asking? Should I go back to work, and if so, when, doing what, working full-time or part-time, or cobbling together several different income streams? Will my plans to buy a vintage trailer to make my new home come to fruition?

That feeling of fear in my gut is old conditioning. I am aware of the situation. There is no emergency. I don’t enjoy the feeling, and I don’t get that it’s helping me in any way.

I intend to explore my fear. Instead of tapping it away, I can inquire within:

  • What am I thinking when it arises?
  • What unconscious beliefs am I holding that I can bring to light, review, and consciously decide to keep, modify, or put up on the dusty shelf in the Museum of Old Beliefs?
  • Can I sponsor a dialog to build empathy, communication, and congruency between my head, heart, and gut?
  • Can I dive into the fear with awareness?
  • Can I breathe into it?
  • Can I go beneath it to discover the essence?

Reiki

Back to doing Reiki in bed. My cat kept wanting to lie on me, like he just couldn’t get close enough. I did Reiki on him first.

My preparation for the session (see yesterday’s post) really energized my feet. I did my session, noticing that my body received energy from my hands strongly at my second chakra, the location of fear, the center of gut intelligence.

Being Grounded

Then I got up, made tea, sat down at the computer, and read an email from Bill Hornback:

Please tell me what “grounded” means to you – I’m doing a little research project for work, where they don’t understand this concept. Thanks!

I emailed Bill this:

Bill–

Grounding used to be a more intellectual concept for me that meant someone was practical, i.e., grounded in reality instead of head up in the clouds.
Now I get that those are metaphors for an actual state of existence.
My acupuncturist gave me some foot exercises to open up the meridians in my feet (so many start or end in the feet), and after a few days, I felt like I was walking around with big balls of light/energy on my feet, like huge houseshoes! I FEEL the energetic connection between my feet and the earth. It’s like magnetism. It’s like every step I take, I’m dancing with the planet.
Hope this helps. I’m blogging about this today!
Mary Ann Reynolds
Yoga Teacher and NLP Coach
512-507-4184
blog: zafureport.wordpress.com
“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ~ Howard Thurman

My current wisdom is that I need to take some precious, precious time to work on myself. Doing Reiki self-treatments at this time is pure genius, if I do say so myself.

The work will come, and I will clearly recognize the work that’s right for me, and I will be truly ready to greet it when it does.

The house will sell to loving new owners at good value for us both.

I will land on my feet in a new smaller abode to make my home.

And all will be well, and all will be well, and all will be well.

Just Breathe: Body Has A Built-In Stress Reliever : NPR

Posted on by
Reply

Here’s a link to a short article on how breathing facilitates stress release.

This article says that rapid shallow breathing, as in fire breath, stimulates the energizing sympathetic nervous system, while slow deep breathing stimulates the calming parasympathetic nervous system.

I’d heard previously that emphasizing inhalations stimulates the SNS, while emphasizing exhalations stimulates the PNS.

I do know that long, slow exhalations are very calming.

Just Breathe: Body Has A Built-In Stress Reliever : NPR.

The gift of Reiki self-treatments

Posted on by
Reply

I recently was fortunate enough to receive Reiki attunements from a Reiki master.

I’ve long been aware of energy flowing through my body, of chakras, nadis, and meridians. I’ve studied various cultures’ knowledge and ways of working with the energy body.

For instance, for several years I’ve practiced the Q’ero way of bringing energy in from the center of the cosmos through the crown and sending it out the feet to the center of the earth, then bringing clean earth energy up through the feet and out the crown. The downward direction releases hucha, and the upward direction connects your authentic being to the cosmos.

Learning Reiki is a natural extension. I’ve long been giving Reiki to my cat without knowing it was Reiki!

Now to put what I learned into practice. As part of the detox process after leaving my job, I commit to giving myself a Reiki self-treatment every day for 21 days.

I’ll sit in a chair, spine erect, visualizing energy descending from my tailbone, anchoring it to the center of the earth.

Then let earth-colored energy come up through my feet and circulate in my lower body until it feels heavier.

Let white light from the center of the cosmos enter my crown chakra and fill my upper body until it feels lighter.

Then begin the Reiki hand positions, holding each as long as needed.

I want to start channeling this prana-ki-qi-life force-healing energy to others, and this is how I prepare.

More on ego death: Experiencing emptiness

Posted on by
Reply

From the book What Really Matters: Searching for Wisdom in America, by Tony Schwartz, a quote from Sandra Maitri, a teacher of Hameed Ali’s Diamond Approach (she later wrote The Spiritual Dimension of the Enneagram):

“Emptiness can be experienced in very different ways,” Maitri explained, after we’d done the exercise. “Often you almost literally fear you’ll die if you stay in that emptiness, and in a sense that’s true. A given sector of the personality will die if you don’t keep trying to fill it up. But there is something deeper. Emptiness feels like a black hole when it’s viewed through the prism of the personality. But that same hole is experienced as open and pristine and very peaceful when you are in essence. It may take a leap of faith to let go into this emptiness — whether from courage or desperation. But when you do, it is very spacious, and it’s anything but deficient. It is the beginning of opening up to our true selves — to the empty space in which everything arises, to the ground of our fundamental nature.”

This popped up into my awareness after writing previously about jumping off the train, a form of ego death.

What key question do you ask yourself?

Posted on by
Reply

For many years, I didn’t really work on taking care of my health and wasn’t very aware of my body. My identity resided more in my head than in my heart or my body.

Then I was in a car accident. That started me on the healing path.

The healing path has led me so many places! Massage, chiropractic of many types, Rolfing, yoga, Pilates, Alexander Technique, Feldenkrais, diet and supplementation, cranio-sacral therapy, regular therapy, Neuro-Linguistic Programming, traditional Chinese medicine, meditation, Zen, and I’m sure I’m leaving out some good stuff.

About 5 years ago, I got tested for food sensitivities, and as a result, I cleaned up my diet. Most unexpectedly, I felt a whole lot better.

Hindsight tells me that I probably have been gluten-sensitive for most of my life, and getting wheat out of my diet made the biggest difference in how I felt from day to day than anything else I’ve ever done — and that’s saying a lot.

The difference in how I felt pointed me to the realization that I truly had no idea how good it was possible for me to feel. I don’t mean feeling good in a hedonistic sense. I mean basically experiencing myself as healthy, happy, whole, resourceful, alive, alert, intelligent, present, competent, able, capable, loving, compassionate, strong.

That became my key question: How good is it possible for me to feel?

Of course, there’s no answer to that! Who could possibly know? That doesn’t mean it’s not a great question!

The question began to influence my choices. For instance, f I had a choice between eating something that I knew would probably make me feel not-so-great, the question gave me more motivation not to eat it.

The question helped me stick with the program.

Other people have key questions. “How perfect is this?” is one. ” “Which choice brings the most joy?” is another.

Do you have a key question that guides your choices? If so, I would love to know what it is.

Jumping off the train, or the joy of being wrong

Posted on by
Reply

It’s been 10 years since I jumped off the train, and my life hasn’t been the same since. It’s been so.much.better.

Ten years ago, I had just moved from Dallas to back to Austin to a new job. I was very wound up about some choices that someone close to me had made, choices that were terrible, with dire consequences, in my opinion.

My friend with whom I was staying followed a spiritual teacher called Prasad. I went with her that day to one of his satsangs.

I wasn’t sure what to think of him — a long-haired American dude with a Hindu name, dressed in white, sitting on a carpeted platform with flowers, answering questions as if he was a guru.

He looked like a hippie putting on airs to me. I was silent during the satsang, observing.

But Prasad said something about “jumping off the train,” meant in the sense of shifting into a more authentic way of being. “Jumping off the train” was a nice metaphor. It stuck in my mind.

That night, which was the night before I was to start my new job, I laid awake, mind whirling with anxiety and anger about what this person had done and what I believed the consequences would be.

I could not fall asleep. The clock slowly crept past midnight into the wee hours as I lay awake, monkey mind going a hundred miles per hour.

I knew how important the first day at a new job is. I wanted to make a good impression, not be bleary-eyed and tired.

That part of me was really annoyed that I was letting this worry get to me so much. That part was self-centered.  That part remembered “jumping off the train” and decided I had nothing to lose by trying it.

I imagined myself on the top of a train speeding through the darkness. The train was my train of thoughts and emotions. Monkey mind on speed.

Crouching atop the train like an action hero, I could feel the cold air and the wind generated by the train’s speed.

I began to think about jumping off. What would happen to me if I did? Could I die?

Yes, definitely I could die from jumping off the train!

I did it anyway. I flung myself off the train, somersaulting into the air.

And what happened was this: Nothing happened. Literally. Nothing happened.

I found myself experiencing dark, silent stillness. I didn’t land. I didn’t die. And in that nothing was a blessed, blessed relief. Peace. Peace of mind. At last.

I slept like a baby the rest of the night and felt rested my first day on the new job.

I later recognized that jumping off the train was an experience of ego death. What died was my self-important belief that I had to worry and suffer because someone I loved made what I thought was a dire mistake.

I began to accept the situation and recognize for the first time in my life that worry doesn’t do a thing for anyone, especially the worrier. I found ways to love that person without losing sleep, without taking their choices personally, without suffering but with compassion. For both of us.

I have since noticed that when one experiences ego death, humility accompanies it. Humility and humus come from the same root in Latin. It is grounding to experience humility, and it brings grace.

Ego death. Believe me, we spend a lot of energy fearing and avoiding it. And when it happens, grace follows.

How else can I be wrong and find grace?

Experiencing my armor, and learning to disarm myself…

Posted on by
Reply

A quick post. This morning when I sat, I noticed clearly that when I am thinking thoughts or telling myself a story with negative emotions like anger, blame, fear, and worry attached, I go completely into the story.

Then I realize that I have been sucked out of the present moment into the story. Rather, the story I tell myself has sucked me out of the present moment into suffering.

Then I come back to the present moment.

Then I feel it in my body. Somewhere in my body, I feel holding, stiffness, tightness, a grinding sensation, emotional distress. This is armor.

When I let go of the story and just be present with what is, I feel relaxed and pleasantly centered in my body.

It’s very clear. I do this to myself with my mind by telling myself stories. It’s not that the stories themselves are bad. There are real injustices in this world, and people make real mistakes, including myself.

But I see how I create my own suffering at times when I don’t need to suffer! Hashing over past events, imagining future events, arguing, trying to win, trying to control others…

I see how addictive drama can be.

Today, I practiced letting go of my stories when I realized they were hurting me.

Getting Real with Gratitude

Posted on by
Reply

Today I’m sharing a note that the writer/teacher/healer Oriah Mountain Dreamer posted on Facebook, which one of my friends shared. I am grateful to have come across this (thanks, Victoria), because this season, leaving a job sooner than expected, I have a lot of emotions to acknowledge and honor.

Still, I am mostly grateful today.

Taking the “Should” Out of Giving Thanks

When I was a child being thankful was more about manners than real appreciation. When Aunt Lucy insisted that my brother and I take the candies she’d dredged up from the bottom of her purse covered in lint and other unsavoury and unidentifiable bits, my mother prodded us with a hasty, “What do you say?”

We of course responded on cue, our small voices chanting, “Thank you,” with compliance if not enthusiasm. We were not expected to enjoy the candies. We were not permitted to refuse them. We were expected to express thanks.

The confusing messages about gratitude didn’t stop there. Growing up, if I tried to get up from the supper table without finishing the peas that had been put on my plate (you know the ones – pale green, from the can and simmered for twenty minutes to finish off any texture or taste that might have survived the canning process) my mother would call me back with an admonishment about starving children on other continents who would be grateful to eat the peas I did not want. Once – and only once – I suggested that the offending vegetables should be shipped to those who could fully appreciate them.

Then there was the general principle of gratitude that was presented as one of a long list of “shoulds” emphasized if we wanted or asked for something. We should be grateful for what we have. We should be grateful that we are not starving, that bombs are not falling on our houses, that we have a long list of freedoms that others in the world do not have.

Expressions of gratitude that are compelled by rules are often reduced to empty gestures devoid of real appreciation. And the “shoulds” around gratitude don’t stop with childhood. Just today I’ve read two blogs that, in preparation for the American Thanksgiving, explicitly tell readers how and why they “should” be grateful. It’s not that I don’t think that cultivating gratitude can’t be done or that it isn’t a good idea. I just have doubts about our ability to experience the full joy of appreciation on demand.

Once, years ago, when I confessed to a therapist that I was disappointed – mostly with myself and some of what I had and had not done in my life – he cut me off before I could finish the sentence. “Well,” he said, “you know what the antidote for disappointment is, don’t you?” I waited. “Gratitude,” he said with a kind of fierce conviction. “Count your blessings. Be grateful, and you won’t be disappointed!” Feeling chastised I never brought my sense of disappointment to him again.

Counselling individuals who are often going through difficult times of confusion, ill health, financial crisis, divorce or other major losses, the statement I hear most often in initial sessions is: “I know I shouldn’t be feeling this sad (or angry or confused or scared.) I know I should feel grateful for what I do have. . . .” It’s not that people are unaware of those things of value in their lives. It’s not even that they aren’t grateful for caring family, or friends, or the job or home or health they may have. It’s that something else – some painful circumstance or choice or loss – is calling for their attention at the moment. And, if they feel they do not have the right to turn their attention to that pain because they “should” be grateful, they can neither fully appreciate what they do have nor take care of the painful inner or outer situation that needs tending.

Developing the habit of courteously acknowledging the things others do for us or offer to us is a good thing. It helps us live side by side. And, if I slow down and really see the other, I can put my heart into even simple words of common courtesy and convey real appreciation. Similarly, setting aside time on a regular basis – daily, weekly, and/or once a year – to do prayers or practices that acknowledge what is good in our lives can surely increase our ability to appreciate what life has provided. But, like all spiritual practises, if the intent has been lost in the rules, if we find ourselves having to deny the reality of the moment to try to feel something we think we “should” be feeling instead – it won’t work. Like most spiritual practises that bring us deeper into life this is not an “either/or.” It’s an “and/but.” It’s not – either I am grateful for my home or I am discouraged by my health. Some days it’s – I am discouraged about my health and I am deeply grateful to have a safe, comfortable place to live and rest.

Because the thing I am most grateful for, that aspect of life that I have learned to appreciate most deeply, is that it is large enough to hold it all. We do not need to wait until everything is perfect in the world or our lives before we make room for deep gratitude for being alive today. But we also do not need to deny the pain or confusion or despair that may be present in this moment in order to be deeply grateful for the life we have been given. Life can hold it all, can hold us all. And for this I am deeply grateful.