Slaying the Dragons of Chaos

I’ve been listening lately to lectures by Dr. Jordan B. Peterson,  a clinical psychologist and professor emeritus at the University of Toronto, whose complex thoughts attract me with their depth and insight.  When you listen to him, you need to stop doing anything else and truly listen.  He speaks quickly and packs each sentence with layers of meaning.  But listening thoughtfully is worth the effort it requires of you.

One of the ideas he conveyed in the lectures I heard this week is that dragons, in mythology, represented (among other things) chaos.  And that slaying them makes you a hero.

Our own lives are a constant battle between chaos and order, and to be a hero in your own life means you slay the dragons that are bringing chaos to it so that you can have less confusion and greater clarity and competence in your life.

The first step in battling your dragons is the toughest.  You have to face the fact that they’re there.  You know that they are, and that they’re keeping you from being all that you can be.

Dr. Peterson says that the secret of overcoming your dragons is to take responsibility for them.   Taking responsibility builds your character and gives your life meaning.  It allows you to aim for living on a higher level than you are now.

Here’s how he says to do it.  You know there are things in your life that aren’t in order, where you’re not together, and they’re causing you some discomfort or suffering.   Every morning, or every night, ask yourself what those things are.

Ask as if you’re asking someone you really want the answer from, not telling yourself or preaching, but sincerely asking what needs to be put in order.  You can easily name five of them he says, “Bang-Bang-Bang.”  These are the little dragons of chaos.  “And they’re just little, but that’s good, because you’re not much of a hero warrior, so maybe little dragons are all you can put up with right now.”  So you name them and the begin sorting them out.

You ask yourself which one you’ll put some work into, even if the work is tedious or boring, or whatever it is that’s been allowing you to put it off.  And you do the work.  You sort those things out.

And what happens is it will bring more order into your life and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be just a little more focused and together.  Then you ask the same question, “What are my dragons?” and the next problems will be a little more complex and challenging, and you sort those out.  And you keep going with this, and you become stronger and more clear-headed for the next set of dragons you take on.

If you continue to do that, you’ll find that your room gets cleaned, your health improves, and your house gets put in order, and then maybe you can stick a finger out and begin looking at the dragons in your community.  By that time, you’ll have some real personal power and self-confidence, and some practice at identifying dragons and taking them on.

Now that, he says, is an interesting and exciting game.  “If you started doing the things that you know you should do and you did that diligently, what the hell would you be like in ten years?”  You might not reach the very pinnacle, but you’ll be a lot better off than you are now, a lot less self-pitying and resentful, with a lot less suffering in your life, a lot less cruel to yourself and other people.  “And that’s a pretty good start.”

So here’s to slaying dragons.  Which ones will you start with today?

Wishing you a sharp sword and hardy determination!

Warmly,
Susan

Damaged Goods

Did you know that
some butterflies drink tears?
It’s true. Proof that the Yes is made of love.

Walk through the world with compassion.
Whether it shows or not, all of us are damaged goods.
Train your gaze to fall more on the good than the wounds.
If butterflies with torn wings can still fly, still freely offer
their gifts to the world, so can you, my friend.

So can I.

Teachers

You sweet little babies, I see you there
lining the edge of my garden
with your blossoms no bigger
than my pinkie nail.
I see you, rollicking with laughter
just because there is sun
and the fun of beaming
for yet another day.
And yet you beam, I’ve noticed,
even when storms come.
I forgot your name years ago,
when I first tucked you
in the ground. Since then
I’ve seen you weather
frost and drought and snow.
I think it’s your joy in simply being
that keeps you keeping on.
Would you laugh even more
if I told you that now I fondly
call you “Teach?”

Lullaby for the Flowers

The first bank of storm clouds floated toward the eastern sky, leaving in their wake a field of sleepy flowers. In the west, the sun dipped behind a second, deepening heap of clouds, but not without saying goodbye.

To the flowers, it all seemed a dream now, the rain, the glow of the sinking sun, the cool air. They surrendered their colors for the night, lending them to the passing clouds.

As they drifted more fully into their dreams, a lullaby sang to them. It was a high, soft, sweet song and it enveloped all the creatures of the earth. Even those whose ears could not detect the sound felt its benevolence in their hearts. It sang the names of every one of them, wishing them peaceful hearts, and assuring them that they were deeply loved. And the flowers sighed with happiness and slept, wrapped in serenity and fragrant joy.

The Earth Holds Peace

In quiet, hidden places, the earth holds peace. It pools there, in the leaves and the waters and the flowers, and it breathes, waiting.

When a child of the earth wishes, or hopes, or prays for comfort and relief, the pools open and their peace floats gently to the petitioner’s heart.

And all you have to do to feel it is to be still and breathe softly, welcoming it and knowing that you are dearly loved.

The Wedding

Once upon a time, on the edge of a small planet on one of the outer arms of the great Milky Way, a tiny band of hearts gathered to celebrate the wedding of two of their own, the binding of their hands together for the completion of their journey.

Everyone laughed and danced and feasted. And toward sunset, they gathered at the edge of a lake, fastened their well-wishes to paper lanterns and set them sailing into the sky:

May your life together be filled with love and joy.

May you have smooth sailing.

May friendship be your guiding star.

May you share beautiful dreams and bring them to fruition.

May you grow through all your struggles and your love shine ever more brightly for having weathered life’s disappointments and storms.

May each day sparkle with your laughter, and each night bring you the comfort of each other’s arms.

And when the celebration was done, and the celebrants had gone their various ways, a great moon rose, full of light and blessing. And it took onto itself all the well-wishes and sent them shimmering across the waters as they rose, ever higher, to the heart of the Yes. And the Yes, welcoming yet another expression of its love, acknowledged the pledges and wishes as its own.

Fairies Dance Here – A Happiness Tale

Auntie Mae knew everything about flowers. When the little girl visited her, she would tell her their names and what kinds of light made them happy. Sometimes, when they strolled through Auntie Mae’s colorful garden she would talk to the flowers, asking them how they liked last night’s rain and if they had heard that oriel singing this morning.

One day when the little girl stopped by to visit Auntie Mae, she found her sitting on her front porch steps doing a fluttery kind of dance with her fingers. When she got closer, the little girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide open. A dozen buzzing bees were flying in and out between Auntie Mae’s fingers.

“Auntie Mae! What are you doing! Aren’t you afraid of those bees?”

“Oh, no!” Auntie Mae laughed. “They’re my friends, and I’m dancing with them. C’mon; they won’t hurt you. See? I put dabs of honey on my fingers to invite them and then they come and play.” She let the little girl watch the dance for a couple of minutes, then she shooed the bees away, telling them that was all for today. She went inside to wash her hands while the little girl sat on the steps. Then the two of them strolled through the garden.

When they came to the big-leafed plant in the shady corner, the little girl pointed to its trumpet-shaped flowers. “What are those called, Auntie Mae?” she asked.

“Most people call them ‘hostas.’ But that’s not their true name. Their true name is a secret. Shall I tell it to you?”

“Oh, yes! Please tell me, Auntie Mae.”

“They are fairy hats,” Auntie Mae said in a quiet, confidential sounding voice. “When the moon is sailing high in the sky and all the children are asleep, fairies come and take them from their stems to wear as hats while they dance their fairy dances in the starlight. When the dances are through, they hang them back on their stems and the dew comes to clean them.”

“How do you know that, Auntie Mae?” the little girl asked. “Have you ever seen them?”

“Only once,” said Auntie Mae, “a long, long time ago. But oh, what a beautiful sight!

“The bees tell me they see them dancing all the time, right around midnight. Maybe some night we can sneak out together and sit very quietly under that tree. The bees say that they dance around that circle of clover over there.

 “If we do sneak out, though, and if you see them, you must promise never to tell anyone until you are at least eighty years old. And even then, you may tell only one little girl. Do you think you could do that? Could you keep the secret?”

And of course the little girl crossed her heart and promised. And that night, the two of them snuck out of their beds and sat in the moonlight under the great old tree watching fairies dance.

5 Minutes a Day to Inner Peace

Some time ago, I received an invitation to participate in an unusual study. Its purpose was to determine the impact of a simple five-minute daily practice on participants’ fears and their experience of well-being.

Because one of the designers of the study was a former mentor and instructor of mine, Ann-Marie McKelvey, whom I like very much and trust deeply, and because I only had to invest five minutes a day for two weeks, I agreed. Who can’t clear five minutes in their day?

The practice is called “The Three Treasures Practice,” by the way, because it draws on the disciplines of loving-kindness meditation, EMDR (a therapy technique for reducing the effects of trauma), and the findings of positive psychology.

My immediate response to the practice, after did my first session, was, “Wow! That was easy – and do I feel great!” But it was only after the first full week of doing my daily sessions that I began to see the incredible power of the practice.

Before beginning it, we participants took a brief survey that had us identify one of our biggest fears and to rate it, and the negative feelings that went with it, on a scale of 1-10. I rated my fear at a 5. But my feelings of grief and sadness over it scored a 9. To my surprise, by the end of the first week, all my scores dropped dramatically. I was looking at the situation from an altogether different perspective.

By the end of the second week, my fear and the sadness and grief were hardly at play at all in my life. I felt free from my concerns and saw clearly that if the situation I had feared did materialize, I would be able to deal with it , minute by minute, as it unfolded. I thought about the old adage that most of what we worry about never happens. And even when it does, it rarely takes any of the forms we imagined. All my apprehensions had done nothing but waste time I could have spent enjoying life in the present.

I ‘knew’ all of that about worry before I began the practice. But I worried anyway, and was deeply attached to my concerns. What you know in theory is far from the things you learn from experience. The Practice simply melted my worries away. Life became lovelier and more vibrant again. Day by day, I was effortlessly moving into a broader, easier world.

It’s been a long time now since I first learned The Three Treasures Practice, and my understanding of its beauty and power has only deepened in that time.

My own experience with the practice has been so profound that I wanted to share it with you. And I’m delighted to say that the developers of the practice and of the study have given all the participants full permission to share it.

So consider this a happy invitation to try it yourself. Make a commitment to give it a full two-week try. Start by writing down what you biggest fear is and rate its intensity from 1-10, where 10 is complete, abject fear, and 0 is no worry. Then think about the feelings that accompany your fear. Does it make you feel any of these emotions: Loss? Anxiety? Grief? Sadness? Anger? Loneliness? Which ones? Rate the intensity of those, too, so you can see the changes in your life at the end of the first week and at the end of the second.

Remember that the practice is designed not only to ease your fears, but to heighten your sense of well-being as well .

Before I share the instructions for the practice itself, here’s a worthwhile little exercise to do first, a kind of warm-up session. For me, it was quite interesting.

All you have to do is jot down the following feelings and rate each of them from 1-10 as you’re feeling them right now: Joy, Peace, Openness, Love, Connection, Kindness, Trust, and Happiness.

You don’t have to do that part. But if you do, it will give you a way to evaluate how the practice is working for you.

Now here are the actual instructions for the practice, as given to those of us who engaged in the study:

Instructions for The Three Treasures Practice

Sit comfortably in a quiet environment. Take deep inhales and deep exhales as you settle.

Cross your arms over your chest and place your hands on alternate shoulders. [Right hand on left shoulder; left hand on right shoulder.]

In a determined way, gently and slowly tap each shoulder one at a time. Tap so that it is loud enough to hear. This is called the EMDR Butterfly Hug.

Keep doing the Butterfly Hug as you say the following phrases to yourself in rhythm with your taps, silently or out loud, Repeat them until your five minutes are up.

  • May I now be filled with loving kindness
  • May I now be safe and protected
  • May I now be resilient in mind and body
  • May I now live with ease and joy

The Loving-Kindness Meditation is an ancient tradition that goes back thousands of years. Although the phrases may differ from culture to culture, the basic principle is to alleviate suffering. Please use the positive Loving-Kindness phrases above for the next 14 days along with the Butterfly Hug for five consecutive minutes each day.

If you have trouble remembering the words, please print them on a card to look at during you initial repetitions until you know them by heart.

Should you find yourself becoming drowsy, please stand up to do the practice until the five minutes have transpired.

That’s it!

I would love to know what your experience with this easy and, in my view, powerful exercise is. Think about taking five minutes a day to try it for two weeks and if you do, let me know what your experience with it is. What have you got to lose?

Wishing you a week of increasing contentment and peace.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Grace

There’s a certain grace to things, a certain rhythm of the Yes that pulses through all nature. It rides in the vast unseen spaces of the molecules and atoms, in their grand, endless flickering and flow. It creates and precedes them. It gives rise to the appearance and disappearance, to the inbreath and the exhalation of all that is and could be.

Seeing it, we call it beauty. Feeling it, we call it peace. Hearing its song, we call it love. And so it is, and more.

Stirring from the Dream

Subtly, August beings the transformation. This is her whole task, this ushering of summer past its midpoint toward the days of fall.

At the edges of the fields and along the roadsides, she scatters the late summer flowers. She deepens the green of the trees and dusts them, ever so lightly, with a thin russet glow. She cools the nights, and bathes the morning with fogs. She ripens the crops in the fields.

A new scent fills her air and, tasting it, the earth’s creatures stir, as if waking from a long dream, as if they are sensing some familiar, ancient turning.