Pulitzer Remix

During April 2013, I was one of 85 poets who each wrote a found poem a day from one the 85 Pulitzer Prize-winning works of fiction for Pulitzer Remix, a National Poetry Month initiative sponsored by the Found Poetry Review. 

This was one of the most life-affirming efforts I've ever undertaken. Even after the project's end, we continue to  learn new forms and approaches from each other. 

My source was Michael Cunningham's The Hours. To see all thirty of my poems, click here.

Mindfulness: Experience the Experience

Listening to Dr. Ronald Siegel in a Mindfulness webinar, I was struck by his observation that the common factor underlying all psychological disorders is "experiential avoidance."

Notice how you typically handle painful experiences. Do you tell yourself "I can't stand it" or "If I let myself go there I'll never be happy again"? When we retreat from life this way we deny our own healing resources. When we're mindful we allow ourselves to be present to experience.

Mindfulness is not limited to meditating on a prayer cushion for 20 minutes morning and night. "Many of us are so busy," Dr. Siegel writes, "that the thought of adding one more thing--no matter how potentially beneficial--is just too much. The good news is that mindfulness practice can be taken up in different ways to suit different lifestyles."

Here's an excerpt from "Nature Meditation" in his book, The Mindfulness Solution: Everyday Practices for Everyday Problems:

Turn your attention fully to the world around you. If you can get to a window or go outside, use the natural world as a focus. If you need to stay in a room and can't go to the window, you can do the same thing with the walls, floor, and objects in the room. The idea is to systematically look at everything in your visual field and describe it. If your mind wanders to thoughts or body sensations, just gently bring it back to the outside world. As with walking meditation, this can be used as a formal meditation practice, replacing breath meditation during particularly anxious times, or as an informal practice as you go about your day.

Beyond Skepticism

Years ago a colleague challenged my skepticism about the usefulness of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. “Have you studied the MBTI?” he asked. “Have you been trained in it?”  I had not, I told him. “Then perhaps you should know what you’re saying ‘No’ to.” Luckily I was open enough to see the flaw in my logic. I did take the training, if only to be able to give an informed “No.” Instead, I’ve found ways to go deeper with the MBTI than my early, negative, uninformed experience of it could have predicted.

Skepticism can be healthy. Woe to those of us who believe everything we read or are told. To the Greeks, in fact, “skepticism” meant inquiry, the essence of their position not doubt or denial or disbelief, but rather continual exploration – a willingness to keep their minds open to new possibilities.

But when skepticism reflects a closed mind instead of an inquiring mind, it becomes a defense against learning more, against possibly changing a familiar worldview. The basis for this kind of skepticism is fear. When I labeled the MBTI as “superficial” I was new to consulting, eager to defend my own training and credentials, and quick to dismiss something I knew very little about. I was afraid to change my point of view – I needed to believe I knew all I needed to know. I thought I was right; others were wrong.

The name calling itself is a cue to defensiveness. And while my describing the MBTI as “superficial” was only slightly demeaning, the attitude behind any word can color it significantly. During a recent check-up with a doctor I’m very fond of, I mentioned I’d contributed to Obama’s campaign. The immediate, sour look on his face told me he found my point of view completely unacceptable. He stepped back and said with distaste in his voice, “He’s a MUSLIM!” Aside from the fact that Obama does not pray to Allah, as far as I know, so what? Romney is a Mormon and Mormons have some beliefs that differ, I’m sure, from my doctor’s fundamental Christian upbringing. His comment about Obama was not founded in skeptical inquiry, it was based on fear of the unknown.

When I heard that some cynics were questioning the healing qualities of my Flowing Zen classes, I wanted to ask “Do you really believe that thousands of us, representing all ages and from all walks of life (students, professors, artists, Ph.D.’s, medical and other professionals) are completely deluded about benefits we directly experience?” But I’ve learned the hard way that no amount of evidence will convince someone whose mind is closed. So let me simply offer my condolences to anyone who jumps to negative conclusions and name-calling about my qigong practice, instead of following skepticism’s true intent of inquiry. If only they knew what they’re missing.

Sand Mandalas

Now often demonstrated by the Dalai Lama and groups of Tibetan monks, the sand mandala ceremony begins with chants, music, prayers, and then pouring millions of grains of sand in bright colors from a metal tube called a chakpu. The finished mandala is about five by five feet in diameter, and takes three to five days to complete.

The creation process concludes with a consecration ceremony, and then... they dismantle the mandala!

Formed into traditionally prescribed Tibetan iconography that includes geometric shapes and historical Buddhist symbols, the sand mandala is a tool to consecrate and bless the earth and its inhabitants. The dismantling of the mandala symbolizes the impermanence of all existence.

Those of us who have become attached to life, and fearful of losing it, have much to learn.

Liebeslied

In an earlier blog I wrote about my literary version of the Buddhist meditation on death, immersing myself in fiction, nonfiction, and poetry about the inevitable. This practice has taken many turns, one of which was deciding to have a natural burial at Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery. Though I hope my death is a long way off, I love the idea of going back to earth in the woods, with a natural marker. 

Without the barrier of a coffin between me and the earth, my molecules can easily mix with those who've preceded me, and I'm delighted to imagine the company I'll join. Among the many names on my growing list are Virginia Woolf, Frida Kahlo, May Swenson, Pina Bausch, Karen Horney, Rainer Maria Rilke, Charlie Mingus, Jiddhu Krishnamurti, and -- most recently -- Marie-Louise Von Franz and Carl Jung.

Somehow this practice of drawing others' spirits to me is affecting my work and my art. My painting has begun to speak to me -- sometimes giving instructions on how to render a scene more real, sometimes reminding me to simply rejoice in what flows from the brush. 

Often, now, I experience the emotions of a client prior to a call -- not always realizing the mood's source until we're in contact. My therapist Vince Schroder said, "They're playing the strings of your guitar." I so resonate with that image, which echoes my lifelong favorite among Rainer Maria Rilke's poems, "Lovesong" or "Liebeslied" (the original follows the translation by M.D. Herter Norton):

How shall I withhold my soul so that

it does not touch on yours? How shall I

uplift it over you to other things?

Ah willingly would I by some

lost thing in the dark give it harbor

in an unfamiliar silent place

that does not vibrate on when your depths vibrate.

Yet everything that touches us, you and me,

takes us together as a bow's stroke does,

that out of two strings draws a single voice.

Upon what instrument are we two spanned?

And what player has us in his hand?

O sweet song.

Wie soll ich meine Seele halten, dass

sie nicht an deine rührt? Wie soll ich sie

hinheben über dich zu andern Dingen?

Ach gerne möcht ich sie bei irgendetwas

Verlorenem im Dunkel unterbringen

an einer fremden stillen Stelle, die

nicht weiterschwingt, wenn deine Tiefen schwingen.

Doch alles, was uns anrührt, dich und mich,

nimmt uns zusammen wie ein Bogenstrich,

der aus zwei Saiten eine Stimme zieht.

Auf welches Instrument sind wir gespannt?

Und welcher Spieler hat uns in der Hand?

O süsses Lied.

Yes, everything that touches us takes us together as does a bow's stroke that draws a single voice from two strings.

-----

A Strong Drink

Humor is a good antidote to untested assumptions and a marvelous way to elicit change at a symbolic level. It shakes us loose. For example, in a workshop on personality types I handed out a variety of Slammers — beanie-type toys that make a sound when you throw them down on a hard surface. Participants had great fun with these, sometimes slamming them down on the table to make a point during the discussion.

• For Skeptics, who worry about what could go wrong, their Slammer was a puppy dog that shouted, “Oh, no!”
• For Helpers, who take care of others’ needs and forget their own, their Slammer had a puckered-up mouth and made the sound of a big, smacking kiss.
• My own Peacemaker types tend to merge with others' agendas and fail to speak up for ourselves; when we threw our Slammer down… it made no sound at all!

A friend says we Peacemakers are easy to tease and enjoy self-deprecating humor. That may be true. While reading Iris Murdoch’s The Green Knight, I laughed out loud at this passage:

“What he saw might have been her pity for him, her sympathy. Or perhaps just her kindness, the way in which, ever after as he watched her, she instinctively made all things better, speaking no evil, disarming hostility, turning ill away, making peace: her gentleness, which made her seem, sometimes, to some people, weak, insipid, dull. ‘She’s not exactly a strong drink!’ someone said.”

Ironic that my favorite cocktail is a Godfather. Hmmm. I might be symbolically drinking strength. Anyway, as part of my healing, I’m becoming a stronger drink, stepping up, shouting out; I’ve even performed some stand-up comedy at our local poets’ collective.

I LOST MY BOOBS, NOT MY SENSE OF HUMOR proudly states my new t-shirt! So I’ve decided to create a rap about having no breasts (click here). I was inspired by Anne Hathaway, who is Sweetness personified (and I’m sure has very nice breasts), performing her paparazzi rap:

The Beauty Way

In Be Careful What You Pray For... You Just Might Get It, Dr. Larry Dossey describes the Navajo belief in the power of words, the importance of thinking and speaking in a positive way – in "the Beauty Way."

Counter this with how easily caretakers can affect a patient's recovery with such hexes as, "Only 2% of people with this kind of cancer survive more than a year."

Of course, doctors don't intend to do us in. Nonetheless, the harm can be real: "Medical curses such as 'It's your funeral,'" Dossey writes, "'You're a walking time bomb,' 'You should have had surgery yesterday,' 'There's nothing more I can do,' and so on, are not uncommon." 

In contrast, Dr. Thomas Oxman and colleagues at Dartmouth Medical School found that the factor most highly correlated with survival and a positive post-operative course after surgery was the degree of spiritual meaning in the patient's life. 

Our Beauty Way answers these questions: 

"How will I participate in my recovery and not be a victim?"

"What is my purpose?"

"What is meaningful to me?"

"How might I make a difference in the world?"