InnerPoetry.com

At the beginning of my first year of graduate school a professor said something to his newbie counselors-in-training that struck a nerve so perfectly that I have never forgotten it, and have come over time to understand it in deeper and richer ways. He said simply, “Therapy lies in the opposite direction.”

And so it with our growth, with our self-evolution, with just about everything. As long as we are human, balance is a state of being that must be cultivated, one that requires heightened awareness, regular monitoring and near constant adjustment. If you are tired, you require rest. Overextended, you need a break. If you feel untethered, you seek direction.

In Weekly Wisdom - Issue 1, I spoke of being still. Stillness is an essential ingredient for nourishing our Selves. But we cannot live in stillness alone. Its opposite is required…intentional action. Each feeds the other - stillness leads to a calmer state from which authentic action can sprout. It may also lead to insights that offer new ways of understanding and seeing, opening up new choices and courses of action. Our beingness is then expressed through our doingness - our interactions with the world - which in turn expands our perspective and grows our wisdom.

We must each learn, within ourselves, what it means to hold the tension - to find that place of both strength and calmness, intention and openness. I admit that in my own life there have been times when I have looked toward the Heavens and shouted, “How?!” And the answer is always the same…Awareness first.

Awareness requires that we learn to watch ourselves and our lives as detached observers, to stand back mentally and emotionally and ask, “Where am I at this moment?” and then, if necessary, “In what direction do I need to move to find my way back to center?” If rigid, to flexibility; if angry, to honest release; if resigned, to hopefulness. We look for what lies in the opposite direction of where we are and begin walking our way there, not to an extreme, but to the sweet point of balance. We take the appropriate steps, speak the necessary words, do what we know must be done. And continue to learn what works for us - what practices and tools help us either shift into stillness or mobilize to inspired action. 

Ayurvedic medicine is a perfect example of reaching stability by moving in the opposite direction. There are three major body-mind types and each has a diet and exercise program designed especially for keeping it in balance. And everything works in terms of its opposite. Those who tend naturally toward a light and flighty energy - lean bodies, quick movements and thoughts, dry skin and fragile nervous systems are told to eat heavy, warm foods that ground and sustain and to keep exercise regular, relaxing and less intense. On the other end, those who tend naturally toward deep grounding - heavier bodies, slower movements, more methodical thinking and moist skin are told to eat crisper, cooler foods that lighten and energize, and to take part in more intense exercise.  I am not an Ayruvedic expert by any means, but have studied and taken part in the process, and am drawn by the natural sense it makes.

In our relationships, our work and our lives, the same basic tenet holds true. To begin, we watch, inwardly explore, become still and with honesty “see” who and where we are. Listen without judgment, be open to what is revealed, and then determine what action is both appropriate and possible that will lead us in the direction of equanimity.

Awareness is not easy, and can be painful. It requires kindness and compassion toward the self, and not a small dose of humor.

Years ago I sat beside a lake in Florida planning a creative writing class I was to teach that night. I watched the birds play along the shore and became entranced by a great Blue Heron. He stood perfectly still, balanced in the water. And then in one quick and precise movement he caught a fish. I thought, “Yes, I want to be as the Heron, to live with such grace, poise and focus, and to move with intention and purposefulness.” And then I was distracted by a flock of pigeons, walking in circles, pecking at the grass like they weren’t quite sure what they were doing - the exact opposite of the Heron. With dismay I admitted to myself that all too often I am more pigeon than Heron. Still I work in the midst of these extremes. But little by little I am able to feel the Heron rising within me.

And so I say…may you find your Inner Heron.

But be kind to your Inner Pigeon.

Namaste.