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#94: Body as an instrument

I was recently unwell in a way where a concoction of things, chronic and acute, had me in bed for a few days. Eight punishing issues were cropping up at once. I tried not to add value judgments, which helped reduce mental chatter and made it easier for me to go with the flow. I alternated work-in-bed, Netflix-in-bed, reading and rest based on what my body could handle. By the second day, the observer in me starting seeing each issue as a thread of human experience: gastric distress, back spasms, inflamed adductor, twisted pelvis and grief just to name a few. I thought of people who had dealt with these threads at one point or another. I examined the threads that were new to me.

For example: When people had back problems, I understood theoretically but not until this experience did I really “get it”. I felt from inside how completely debilitating a back spasm could be. How all bodily movements, not some, are silently supported by our core. I knew that our core includes our back and not just the abdomen, and that true abdominal strength comes from deeper muscles and not just the surface-level 6-pack muscle. Yet, not until this event did I patiently isolate and feel the firing of different layers of core muscles. I finally played with the exquisitely designed jigsaw puzzle made of bones, muscles and tendons from inside my animal.

There is sometimes a struggle in spiritual practice about whether it’s more important for us to nurture the spirit or the body. The body is seen as temporary while the spirit more lasting. And I absolutely get this wisdom; I’ve personally benefitted from feeding my spiritual wellbeing in dark moments. But…we are clothed in this earthly bodysuit till our dying breath. If we don’t have a body, we are literally not alive. Like all animals, we have sophisticated abilities for functional activity, growth, reproduction, and continual change before eventual death, and we also face periodic glitches. I have come to see that this glitch-ridden experience inside our frequently painful bodysuit is how we unlock our spiritual practices. Body is where the nuggets of insight, wisdom and empathy live.

We can’t each go through the countless human experiences to be had. But we can go through some. Some of us will face cancers, heart attacks, severe burns, while others will face chronic migraines, irritable bowels and weak bones. Some will have the ache of untimely loss, addiction, and postpartum depression, while others will have to care for a parent with Alzheimer’s or a schizophrenic sibling. Between all of us, we cover the entirety of human experience.

Modern tech would have you believe that intelligent life can operate without a body, while simply simulating the predictive capacity of the brain. What we completely miss is that true intelligence isn’t just prediction, it’s also compassion and resilience birthed from painful surprises. This is the valuable journey that a human body allows. Over time, we can become instruments of all that is tender and powerful at the same time. Like a tree that filters environmental toxins and releases oxygen.

“It is not our job to remain whole.
We came to lose our leaves
Like the trees, and be born again,
Drawing up from the great roots.”― Robert Bly, poet

#92: Action after awe

We’ve all experienced awe at some point in life. It’s the feeling of wonder when we’re in the presence of something that alters our understanding of the world. It’s often an encounter with vastness that snaps us out of our small realities. Some awe-inducers include: endless stars in the night sky, majestic redwood forests, birth of a child, the overview effect astronauts experience upon seeing our fragile earth from space, hearing an accomplished musician live, being in the presence of a wildly respected human, or learning about say the theory of relativity*.

This fascinating research on awe mentions that all forms of awe are characterized by two phenomena: “perceived vastness” and a “need for accommodation”. “Perceived vastness” comes from encounters with something or someone that is vast or profound, or from observing something physically large. Since this vastness often violates our normal understanding of the world, awe-experiences evoke a “need for accommodation”. This means that this state lends itself to modifying the mental constructs that we implicitly use to make sense of the world and act in it.

Here’s a perfect summary, verbatim from the awe-researchers —“This need for cognitive realignment is an essential part of the awe experience. Awe is also accompanied by feelings of self-diminishment and increased connectedness with other people. Experiencing awe often puts people in a self-transcendent state where they focus less on themselves and feel more a part of a larger whole. In this way, awe can be considered an altered state of consciousness, akin to a flow state, in addition to an emotional state.”

So now that we know this, think back to your last encounter with awe: What did you do after that memorable camping trip in the great outdoors? What action did you take after absorbing ancient wisdom from that wise sage? How did you cultivate the awareness that your local symphony orchestra unlocked? What did you do after hearing that brilliant and engaging professor speak? How long did the heart-opening after the birth of your child last? 

There is power in awe but there is forgetfulness in life. We can feel dwarfed and tap into wonder in the presence of the vast night sky, ancient wisdom, music, deep intellect or a tiny human. But what we do after feeling joyfully speechless is the key to creating the world we want to live in. We are taught discontent at every turn but awe drops us squarely in the middle of gratitude and human-connectedness.

Awe is a profound gift in our short-term focused and often fear-driven lives. But it’s only a gift if we channel this fleeting awareness back into our thoughts and actions somehow. The ultimate promise and value of awe is full-bodied, openhearted presence and action…we can’t stay stuck in awe. 

“However many holy words you read,
However many you speak,
What good will they do you
If you do not act on upon them?”— Buddha

*In case you’re interested – Albert Einstein, in his theory of relativity, found that space and time were interwoven into a single continuum known as space-time. And events that occur at the same time for one observer could occur at different times for another.

#86: Influencers

According to a 2019 survey of 2,000 Americans ages 13-38, 86% were willing to try out social media influencing for work. Truthfully, at first, this headline fueled my cynical side but a quick look at the motivations cited helped me see people’s underlying humanity. People weren’t just motivated by making money or getting free products, they wanted to make a difference, have flexible working hours and share ideas with others. They also wanted to have fun. Fame ranked lowest on the list. There’s a market for influencers because people trust those that appear to be everyday folk like themselves vs. those with too much celebrity and fame. But there is a bit of a trap here. In the same study, only 12% of people considered themselves influencers.

Influence is the capacity to have an effect on the character, development, or behavior of someone or something. When we think of the term “influencer”, our default is to think in a social media marketing sense given popular jargon. In this context, the influencer’s goal is to typically make us buy something. This is neither everyone’s passion and skill, nor should it be. I would hate to live in a world where every human became a walking billboard. Besides, lets not forget that each of us is an influencer with far more weight than we realize.

My life has been influenced by the everyday presence, words and examples of my parents, husband, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, in-laws, friends, teachers, mentors, co-workers, neighbors and acquaintances. I’ve even been influenced by strangers. I’ve absorbed the most profound lessons of love, compassion and generosity, of courage and humility, of patience and sacrifice. These lessons and experiences came silently and without fanfare or observers. When eventually I picked books from wise sages and they invoked these traits, I didn’t have a hard time relating because I had everyday examples. The realization that I was surrounded by exemplary people day in and day out made me more thankful, peaceful and joyous in my existence.

On the flip side, I’ve also been negatively influenced by others when I shrank myself after I was made to feel less-than. We humans have the power to do that to each other. Let’s never forget that our every interaction is an opportunity for influence and that we can choose to be constructive and generative. 100% of us are influencers.

Written in honor of my biggest influencer, my precious Mother. Happy birthday, Ma!

“My daughter is strong. My daughter is brave.”― My Mom, during my weakest moments

#85: Everyday reminders of belonging

When we think of belonging, we often think of a place, people, or culture that makes us feel welcome. We crave kinship and emotionally available humans. The implied focal point is usually the self and we gauge how another may create a sense of affinity in us. If we flip the coin though, we’ll see that the other side of this equation is us. These humans that we crave belonging from crave all of the same things back. If belonging has been a consistent desire across cultures and time, and everyone desperately craves it, what gets in the way?

Our modern lives reinforce a few recurrent themes:

  • We don’t decipher the need: Belonging was easier to achieve when we lived in close-knit collectives and became intertwined with others across generations through biological likeness and cultural shorthands. In modernity, we increasingly bump up against those with different cultural shorthands from us. We can’t always accurately decipher another’s emotional rhythm and don’t realize when we’re drawing inaccurate assumptions and conclusions, often in haste.
  • We don’t overlap enough in terms of time: Connection can happen quickly, belonging takes time. True belonging, the one where our roots go deep into the communal substrate, needs time. A few interactions are great but consistent interactions over a long period are what informs us that we aren’t just fair-weather companions. Belonging then, is a sense of affinity that is derived over a period of time through our seemingly small interactions with others. We now flit around more easily from geography to geography, job to job, relationship to relationship, and context to context. No one context gets enough of our attention unless we intentionally make it so.
  • The relational sheen wears off up close: The more we are with another human, the more sides of them we’ll see. There is more opportunity to witness messiness and sticking points. Every real relationship goes through moments of stress followed by the potential for shared sense-making. Belonging gets unlocked when we show up after these stressful moments for imperfect practice with a committed other. This implies two things: mutuality and showing up despite feeling inadequate. But if after these moments of stress, we turn to the endless online shelf of humans where the next shiny person awaits, we’ll keep repeating loops of shiny discovery followed by heartache without ever learning how to be in relationship.

In our modern context, everything―except the desire for belonging―has changed. We don’t have overlapping histories, biology, norms and time. We are surrounded by countless potential sources of belonging but they come with bodies, identities, mindsets and experiences unlike ours and with time as limited as ours. We don’t always depend on the same set of people and contexts for both survival and thriving. We rarely get to know all of another, often seeing them in a specific context which is reduced and distributed. We hardly get to see the integrated whole of each other, even when we’re emotionally close. Finally, we encounter a lot more people which cultivates the behavior of “infinite-swipe”. If not this, then there’s always another and then another.

The repeatable outcome is that it’s easier to surf the surface of humanity without dropping anchor. Easier to accumulate judgments and faulty stories about others. Easier to hurt each other and move on without realizing that, in the process, we changed ourselves for the worse. Easier to feel compelled to guard ourselves, and easier for everyone to end up guarding themselves to the brink of isolation.

But tuning back into belonging isn’t overly difficult work, it’s just uncomfortable at times. It requires everyday attentiveness and responsibility. It’s a psychological shift to reorient our focus from short-term material accumulation to the humans in front of us. To bypass the inclination to compare, acquire, and dominate. To remembering that every single thing we get to do, dream about, and achieve is enabled by humans we know and those we’ll never know.

We have rich ancestral wisdom to help us here. While modernity has added layers of complexity, forgetting our connectedness is not a new problem. Our ancestors too felt the need to remember. For instance, versions of the golden rule―treat others as you want to be treated―appear across all cultures. Some additional examples:

  • The African philosophy of Ubuntu is summarized as “I am because you are”.
  • The Zulu greeting Sawubona means “I see you” and it’s common response Shiboka means “I exist for you”. They remind us to recognize each other’s worth and dignity.
  • The same Indian greeting Namaste is used while bowing to the divine and greeting other humans.
  • Ojigi, the Japanese greeting, is a physical bow and a signal of respect, gratitude or apology in social and religious situations.

I’m certain we have timeless wisdom in every culture to remind us of our interconnectedness. These greetings, rituals and philosophies aren’t antiquated. They are psychological reminders and everyday shorthands to break the circuit of self-absorption, fear and disconnection. They help us turn to each other as lovingly and fully as we want to be turned to, to accompany each other as we want to be accompanied.

“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”― Edith Wharton, writer and designer

#79: Organic signals and the paradox of overengineering

I drink plenty of water because I naturally crave it. I often wonder after a refreshing drink whether plants feel the same way after getting watered: nourished from within. And then I wonder why, despite my affinity for water, I too sometimes fall into a pattern of forgetting and getting dehydrated.

I read somewhere that we can mix up our thirst and hunger signals. When I first read this, I thought “hum, interesting, that’s never happened to me”. But now that I’m cultivating a capacity to observe, I see it happens quite frequently. The common thread in these moments is that I’ve lost my connection to thirst signals because of busyness or distraction (likely missed or overrode initial signals). When I haven’t had adequate water in several days, it feels harder and harder to trace my way back to that faint signal. Then drinking water becomes a task; another thing to track and remember, and not something I do naturally.

I notice parallels with a number of other habits including meditation, writing, movement, sleep, and human connection…essentially anything that feels lifegiving. When I lose that organic signal from within because of modernity’s squeeze, there is pressure to start tracking the when, the how and, the how much. There is pressure to engineer the optimal routine. But once designed, it all backfires. Rather than following that engineered routine, part of me stops wanting to do something that comes so naturally to me.

There seems to be an experiential difference between leaning into the organic nurture of a practice and over-monitoring it for output. For me atleast, one seems to release the creative expansion of the practice and the other somehow robs it. One makes the habit magnetic and the other a bit repellant. It feels as if my psyche is saying: “Give me the tools to make healthful choices, but set me free to interact in those lifegiving pockets without a script.”

I want to build evolving gardens and not static skyscrapers.

“When I refer to ‘creative living,’ I am speaking more broadly. I’m talking about living a life that is driven more strongly by curiosity than by fear.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert, journalist and author