One minute, you are meandering down the lane. In the next, everything changes, leaving what was your life -- or the life of someone you love -- in shambles. What we believed was our life gets turned upside down.
No one asks for turbulent times. And yet, it is something that comes, despite our resistence, our attempts to shore up from the unknown. Some forms of upheaval leave you time to run to higher ground. Others don't. If the confrontation is large enough, it will take you and yours to your knees. When disaster strikes a culture, we are reminded we are "in the soup," together --as Carl Jung used to put it so well.
The greater the devastation, the deeper the shock. Our "monkey mind" leaves us staring at road-kill, be it an unfortunate kitten that wanders out on the freeway this morning and now is "toast," or international coverage of villages swept away in 30 seconds, raging fires and threats of nuclear contamination. As you gaze into the eyes of the now, displaced, the suffering is overwhelming. Why must such things happen? Shocked, most find themselves swept into the repeating barrage of photography in order to assimilate what seems surreal. While it is tempting to perseverate with questions of "why" and "unfairness," this tendency can delay you from saving what still has life. We must not tarry in our heads when there is ground to clear, rescues to handle.
Regardless how high we build our towers of success, arrange our props against the wall of achievements to prove we are OK, regardless how much energy you devote to self- protection against catastropic, in the end, Mother Nature wins. When Big Mama's under too much pressure, something's got to blow. You know this in your own home, don't you? Remember the adage: "When mother's unhappy, nobody's happy!"
We are connected after, all. You and I are intertwined with natural elemental forces, as part of Creation's tapestry. We are interwoven with one another. If I neglect you, I break faith with all that is most essential to the heart. I sever connection with the advance of humankind toward its own best unfolding. If I break faith with you, this pretending we are not brothers and sisters brings devastation to our greater family. Yes, Carl, we are in the soup together.
Perhaps this is what makes photographs and footage of times like these so compelling. As we see strangers helping strangers, a baby found beneath the rubble, grown-ups securing the remnants of life for children they do not know, troups from different cultures coming together in an Army for Life, rather than for war and destruction, we remember who we are at our best. We remember that "our finest hour" seems to emerge from the compost of the worst. Ironic, isn't it?
A Natural Teacher
I was reminded of this before dawn. Many branches from the forest's evergreens lay strewn across our road, following some of the most intense storms I've ever witnessed. But it is these greatest storms, the wildest weather, and unrelenting winds, which help us sort. Aftermath makes abundantly clear what's alive and what's dead. Turbulent times help you separate what still holds life, what matters, from what is gone. Now, hours later, birch, oak and pine stand tall, in the noon day sun, despite the reality that poorly-attached branches have been stripped away. The fact that they are well-rooted makes this possible.
Where are your deepest roots when tough times come? When you've been stripped by adversity, to what do you cleave? Think back. What has sustained you when all seemed dark, and you felt despair? I'd like to know. We are here to learn from one another, to hold hands walking down the hallway into the Unknown, where surprise dwells.
What gift awaits you? Many years ago, I heard an amazing man by the name of Howard Thurman tell a true story that stayed with me in my own stormy times. Thurman described a desert, where a man placed a lantern along the path each night, along with a note for exhausted travelors who might need comfort. The desert dweller's message contained instructions for how to reach his shelter, in case the stranger might be in need. His lantern left an open invitation for those who would come this way.
An Illustration
A few years later, in Japan, while teaching hours away from Tokyo, I traveled an unknown path during a break from the retreat I was leading. There, in the heart of the glade, I came across a little tree stump with a small white bowl atop it, which held five fresh, vibrant persimmons from the tree nearby. Beside the fruit was a blue pitcher of cool water with cups, for those who might pass by and require refreshment. As I stood there in the shade of the tree, sipping from the cup, I recalled another time in Switzerland, when, on a walk the first week I was there, I came across a table in the foothills of "Heidi" country. On it were a tiny basket with three purple plums, a fresh loaf of pumpernickle bread and honey, and water for hikers passing by. Beside it was a tiny glass jelly jar filled with mountain wildflowers to enjoy. It sounds like a fairy tale, I know, because we tell ourselves the story THAT we "don't have time" to prepare the Way for others. Those who do, sense that we, too, are in the soup together.
We are hard-wired for love. When someone takes the time to remember connection, everyone awakening benefits. Those who remember to leave behind their offering have learned to cultivate a gentle heart culled from turbulent times. More on this in weeks to come.
The One Essential Thing To Remember During Difficult Days
You, too, have a lantern. Maybe it is not yet concrete. Maybe it is but a wish to make a bigger difference in the lives of those you meet today, or those across the sea. The truth is that you are a lantern. The work you have done to awaken what matters -- the openness of your heart; your capacity for outreach, even when it is inconvenient; for gentle care towards those who suffer; your contributions to causes of relief -- all indicator lights of this most beautiful nature of yours. Your love is the lantern which lights the way through the Darkness. You are the best Love Project around.
Your turn: I'm listening, and learning from you, my teachers. Where are your deepest roots when tough times come? When you've been stripped clean by adversity, to what do you cleave? Think back. What has sustained you when all seemed dark, and you felt despair? I'd like to know. I trust I am not alone, for others could learn from your truth telling.
To be continued April 6th, after I return from being with those whose soup is boiling. In the meantime, I offer today's piece in the memory of my son, Matt, killed 20 years ago, March 21st.
For more, see CaraBarker.net. For updates, contact me at dr.carabarker@gmail. To save time, click on "Become a Fan" at the top of this page. Stay tuned for upcoming developments with The Love Project, including "Practicing Love."
Follow Dr. Cara Barker on Twitter: www.twitter.com/DrCaraBarker
Its hot along the trails of the Grand Canyon in the summer. 110 to 120 degrees is very common and so is heat stroke. I lived and worked there at the bottom at Phantom Ranch some years ago. When hiking we Phantom Rancers would carry extra water to give to struggling hikers. Some really needed it along with an encouraging word. Besides, it was a good way to strike up conversation with those nice looking female type hikers.
Now, for me, my little cups of water are my friends, inspirational people like you and my meditation.
Thanks for inspiring me, lifting me up and carrying some extra water for me.
Big love,
Bill
I created a cathedral of the heart - a physical place in a non-physical realm, just behind and below the real one which I describe here http://bit.ly/hHggj9
All this talk of altars reminded me of what my own which I was hesitant about publishing for weeks now. However, because of your words I decided to do it today. Your Matt is in my Cathedral. Feel free to visit anytime.
This place which I now call the cathedral of my heart was nameless before but it is where I always found myself when in distress (to put it very mildly). Years ago I had to tunnel in but now it's just a thought away.
I finally understood why I was never loved or shown affection because my job, my path, was to discover this joyous uplifting abode for my Self and all who desire succor.
You chose your own spot more than a year ago and I doubt you'll be leaving.
As Uncle Ed and Aunty Deb would say, much metta :))
Catherine
Although it has been days since you wrote this, I am only now just seeing it. Actually, on the 19th, I was in San Francisco as the celebrant of Judith's youngest daughter for her wedding. What a blessed, blessed event. So, as you can see, the cathedral of heart is doing beautifully.
You know Catherine, I've thought about you far more than you might imagine and this journey of yours. I do believe that annointment so often comes through suffering, as a means of baptizing us in the Spirit of Life and Love. You are most definatly Called, (and I meant this in the most sacred sense) to live your life authentically, no matter what. Honestly, I don't think you have any idea just what a beacon you are to those behind you on the trail, those beside you, and those up ahead.
What a joy it is to be with you, in the cathedral of the heart, where it all 'comes down.'
Peace and blessings to you, my friend,
Cara
I'm always so, so glad to see you here, and miss you in between. What a difference you make! In August it will be 3 years since Judith and I began our trek here, and you are a consistent fav
Meanwhile, keep teaching, yourself. I am a willing learner, and so glad to see you here. You are a gem, indeed.
Peace, blessings and gratitude your way,
Cara
This inspiring piece is an excellent offering to your son's memory. Please be as careful as possible while reaching out to those who are so in need of what you offer so well. I'll look forward to you HuffPo return.
love,
little brother
I'm just back in town for 24 hours, and then, will return on the 6th. But, I see what you have written, and simply had to thank you. As Catherine (above) put it: you are in the "Cathedral of my heart."
Love, and joy your way, with a great big helping of gratitude,
Cara
For some reason, I am not seeing my response this morning to you, (while I am in between planes!) please know that my love and gratitude are with you, today and always.
Cara
Sometimes, (and more often than not,) the greatest gems come in simple forms. You are gold.
Peace and blessings to you and yours!
Cara
P.S. Love the screen name....
Accepting that there are times when circumstances happen for reasons unknown only to be discovered later if I’m present with stillness. We both know a little about that friend of ours. I call it leaning into the circumstances. Sort of like surrendering to the winds. There is a great power in doing this one. It’s called self-control. As for what has sustained me, I’m often reminded of the sentences in Edgar Guest’s poem, See It Through, that says,
“Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you're beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.â€
Cara, please know that I offer blessings and prayers to you on your journey with Matt-who still lives within you-and I will take them to my mountain on my next walk up.
Hi my friend, Guest's poem combined with your words and those of dear Cara caused me to pen the following for you both.
Cotillion
We treasure the moments with choices to make,
trusting experience for just the right call.
The thirst for progress we hope to slake,
as we get all dressed up for the ball.
The dance is the thing we should always desire
as we move to our goal in that great hall.
With our minds and our hearts filled with a fire,
as we get all dressed for the ball.
Just the right motions are not nearly enough;
doing the right thing changes short to tall.
Facing our challenges, though they may be rough,
as we get all dressed up for the ball.
The time for each one moves all too fast.
Merit and accomplishment meet a great wall,
and with gratitude and awareness, we face it at last,
as we get all dressed up for the ball.
R. Lawson Meadows
Thanks! It's all about doing the best for ourselves and others on our short journey...
Lawson
Hugz to you my friend.
Catherine
Since I'm not that eloquent, I'll just second you on that.
Each time we hit the wall (resistance of yours truly) we are obliged to surrender because there's no going back and we sure as hell can't go forward. No one wants to relive (as I did) the same painful circumstances repeatedly in this life and so, surrender is the only option.
What's beautiful is when we sink into it then come out the other side, we discover what George Bernard Shaw describes here:
"I rejoice in life for its own sake. Life is no "brief candle" to me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."
By the way, Meg Wolff rechristened me so you're the first to know my new moniker: SoulChangeStartsHere... cute huh!
HUGZ to you and yours big fella!
BTW, I'm loving your new moniker. It is so, so true!
Love and applause,
Cara
“’...our finest hour’ seems to emerge from the compost of the worst.†Without hesitation or timidity, I say the essence and strength of your statement brought that familiar burn of emotion into my throat, and a tear of recognition on my cheek.
It is true; the regret of a broken leg turns to gratitude upon meeting a person with but one. I too remember the intense storms delivering 7+ inches of rain outside, and 5 inches in my basement. Things were ruined, and I grieved for them, until the tidal event in Japan. My basement has healed; my “stuff†is replaceable, and I am here, strengthened in the knowledge of my great fortune and circumstance.
The heat of battle with adversity anneals and strengthens us from the blush of new experience to the essence of our soul. Our roots are but a reflection of the awareness of our frailty and strengths shared among the common nature of humanity, and the spirit of and passion for triumph and survival that serves to perpetuate the belief that purpose and profit are to be gained in our moments as we turn toward the future. Being filled with the confluence of past experience, the confidence in our continued journey, and the common threads of human existence of which we are aware... we make a choice; we take a step; we begin anew.
You have my gratitude for seasoning the soup well. Carl, and Matt, would be proud.
Lawson Meadows
I'm catching a plane in just a few hours after the next four sessions (in a row), but simply had to drop by and respond to you and your beautiful remarks. And, for the record, how easy it is to relate/empathize with your basement flood! We had one some years ago that turned into a 40K challenge. Through the next three months of repair, I chose to remind myself many times that the toxic mold could be taken care of, the things lost, a vivid memory, and yet, we were well, if we didn't let it determine our response to the moment or one another. It was quite a teaching.
Frankly, Lawson, I am going to print out your remarks for my altar at home. You speak from the Well of Deep Knowing. Our finest hour is here, and you are demonstration extraordinaire.
Much love,
Cara
Thank you... your kindness of mind is exceeded only by your kindness of heart. You are a spark, an igniter of reason and compassion. Have a safe flight, a fruitful trip, and I am sure you will, as always... do good things.
Lawson
If you have time, look at the reply to JackandCoke's comment... I wrote it for you both. :)
Just because...
Lawson
PS: your last comment has not appeared here yet and I too am leaving for a while... just wanted to say after reading from your memory being jogged, I know I would have not just enjoyed Matt, but would have benfitted from knowing him, as I am sure many did.
Hugs...
Lawson
Cara
I am saddened not to have known Matt, but confident that in emerging from your shadow, he was not just my kind of man, but a kind man, one I would have been enjoyed knowing. Oddly, I too feel a loss here. Maybe connections transcend time, maybe somewhere in the space between each tic and toc there are connections we can feel, if we just become aware.
I will mark my calendar...
With great affection and gratitude,
Lawson
I live in earthquake country thus the knowledge that a tragedy could happen on a massive scale most likely will occur perhaps during my lifetime. Maybe not.
We are "hard-wired" aren't we when we reach out to help someone in time of need. I think of those scenes you describe of just simple water in a cup, a cool refreshing cup of water. and maybe a piece of fruit and flowers in jar. Would that not be a miracle to come upon in the forest. Tragedy occurs every day somewhere in the world. Tragedy is listening to a doctor's diagnoses of cancer, that call in the night or morning that a loved one has died.
I remember my grandparents house burned to the ground when I was a child and my concern was for the bedspread that my grandmother had spent so many years of her life crocheting. It's the little things we think of when tragedy occurs. They drove to their daughter's home, they were not hurt but they were dazed and certainly not themselves. Nature seems to come fast with a soothing balm to help with that numbness before the actuality of what has happened becomes a reality.
A candle on the 21st with white blossoms from a plum tree on my alter.
Sweet honey your way,
Cara
Your story of your grandparents fire hits a nerve. I feel it alive in the moment. The little things turn out to be the Main Event. For the record, as a little girl, I was involved in a fire which burned to the ground a building that has just been finished the day before. Long story, too little time with a plane to catch. What it did do was heighten my very personal appreciation of the Phoenix legend, and how we must take all ashes as our new beginning.
How proud your grandparents would be!
As for the image of your alter, tears roll down my cheeks in gratitude for the beauty that you are,
Cara
Bless you.
Reading your words, Portrait, remind me of your song from years ago, which was/is one of my favorites: "Three Times a Lady." You are. What a beauty is your heart.
Gratefully,
Cara
Somehow I think nature just numbs our brain a bit in disasters or turbulent times. I remember the 100 year storm in Kitsap County and not getting to my house that night and being driven home the next day when my friend said "oh, you have a tree on your house". I couldn't quite take that in either. I looked and yes it was a tree and yes it was on the roof of my house and I remember looking at the other end of the tree and seeing those massive roots upended which was much as I felt.
But that 100 year storm was nothing like the disaster I was yet to face when I became one of the group of mothers who lost a child. continued...........
Having been through too many earthquakes, as well, we are reminded in the storms of life how small we are. But, when we hold hands with one another, the beauty that shines through is the Garden at its best.
Love and gratitude to you, and to your child in the Great Beyond,
Cara
Cara
I learned from the dirt poor, hungry and ill people in India who could still could muster up a smile and sense of well being. It can always be worse.
Working with and helping people that you clearly see are suffering more than you is a sure way to alleviate my/your personal problems. And that help is often valued more than currency; it is some time, hearing with care, and kind words...!
thank you. Every time I see your words, hear your heart, appreciate your critical thinking and perspective, it is one more reminder of how blessed we are with someone like you in the world. It is clear to me that you, too, are a global citizen. There is nothing quite like being in different cultures, for a period of immersion, where we are 'up close and personal' to put life in perspective, and be grateful for the opportunity to offer more, give over our best, to our Brothers and Sisters wherever our footprints are standing.
What a brother you are. I am so grateful for your Light,
Cara
And am not always very sensitive; if you check my past posts you'll find that I am not kind to Republicans...!
I lived in Mexico for a year. (I still can speak Spanish, but I've forgotten a lot; that was almost forty years ago!) I know exactly what you mean about becoming aware of how very good most of us in the country have it. We're below the poverty line, but we have running water! We have indoor plumbing! Heavens, we even have the internet! Although I'll admit that's irrelevant, seeing as how it wasn't around back in those days. :)
I learned of the generosity of the very poor all through that year, but this one village still stands out. It was tiny, and desperately poor despite an incredibly beautiful setting in the mountains. The houses weren't built of adobe; that was for rich people in the bigger towns and cities. Wind blew through the walls. I was there with friends who knew some of the people. The entire village chipped in the next morning to give us this huge breakfast, with chorizo and eggs and coffee and store-bought bread in addition to the (far superior!) tortillas they made.
When those who are poor offer you such hospitality, you accept, with gratitude. You do not diminish the gift by offering to reimburse them, no matter how much you may want to protest their "waste" of money on your behalf. I still count that meal as one of the richest gifts anyone could imagine.
Take it easy.
...............fanned...............
Sorry about the delay. I've been out of town, and am leaving again shortly, but will be back on the 6th. Meanwhile, I just want you to know personally, how much I appreciate sharing what you described here. Honestly, I feel like I can smell that Mexican coffee, taste the chorizo and eggs and tortillas, along with you. As for the hospitality and reimbursement, I had a very similiar experience in Finland with very, very poor relatives I did not know existed before that meal near Lapland. What a feast, from the generous, generous heart from those with empty cupboards. What a teaching.
You are always, always a beautiful Guest in this Guesthouse, as Rumi might say....
Peace be with you,
Cara
surrender - completely surrender! & come into my heart & trust
when it comes down to it no one has a clue what will happen next.
Do ya best & leave da rest.
Hugs- Ed
Love is with you,
Cara
Perhaps, part of the discernment in knowing what is meddling, and what is not, gets down to centering in the Stillness, beyond the mind and it's monkey mind tricks, and simply Being. In this Well, guidance comes that is not ego driven, but well beyond, deeply connected to the Flow.
What you say does not remotely sound harsh to me, but wise, born of a journey through awakening. The precious door, the breathing in and breathing out, releasing all agenda.
Bless you, today, and always,
Cara
In my experience, the feeling of 'lost,' is the prerequisite to finding the 'found.' I wish you all good things, the unending experience of the Beloved, wherever you are. You are a gem. But, then, I'm being redundant for I've told you this before. Sometimes, the Truth bears retelling.
How glad I am that you are in my world. There are layers and layers of you that intrigue, with your clear, genuine way of being. You are adorable!
Cara
I meant (as you probably know) "lost" as in the sense of killed; it's an ironic word from my perspective, because come that day I will indeed be "found" - or rather, I will have found my way Home permanently instead of just visiting.
Louise
But a detour is an inconvenience. Aching lungs from burning rubber and plastic can be eased by using my nebulizer. There was no evacuation. Above all, no one died in wreck! When I found that out this morning (around 4:30 am), I felt like the mother of the Prodigal Son... even though all four of those Sons (or daughters!) are completely unknown to me!
(BTW, a shame the Prodigal's Mama never got mentioned!)
I felt refreshed, re-invigorated, ready to go back to the fray and pick up our plans. Ready to rebuild. Commonsensical types, such as my sweet spouse, may remind me that all of these events -- Japan, our personal problems, the wreck, your column appearing today -- are in fact "coincidence" and completely unconnected. And I can accept that. But at the exact same time, even my commonsensical husband understands why I feel this way.
Thank you for this wonderful column! Everything does in fact connect.
As for your husband, thank him for his skepticism. I'm hearing a 'Doubting
Thomas.' That's refreshing, too, as I've got one of my own inside. It's just that I've come to the place where holding room for connection brings forward some mighty amazing demonstrations. I say 'no guts, no glory. Let's go for the whole enchilada!
Appreciation to both of you for all that you are!
Cara
What I mean by an "honest" doubting Thomas is that, having decided he can not KNOW that there is a God, or life beyond what we see, or so-on-and-so-forth, he forthrightly states that he DOESN'T know, instead of insisting flatly that there can't possibly be anything beyond the material. The pure-materialist atheists may never admit it, but they've made a faith of their non-faith. My husband doesn't. He just accepts life as it comes.
He also does not fear death. He accepts it as a fact of life. A couple of decades ago, he came close to dying. He didn't have the classic near-death experience, but he remembered being aware that he was dying and being, as he put it, "mildly interested" in what would come next! In any case, if he ever did have to struggle with the fear of death (which I will admit I sometimes do myself), he hasn't since then.
BTW, I hope you will discuss noetics more in this column. I had to look the term up, but it sounds very much like some notions about Creation that I've been stumbling towards by myself for the last few years.