Chuck’s Place: Crossing the Bryant Park Bridge

I awaken from a dream crossing and can’t wait to ask Jan if there is in fact, somewhere in Brooklyn, a bridge called the Bryant Park Bridge. “Does it exist?” I ask, as I tell her my dream of crossing into New York City on a bridge of this name. She smiles, reminding me of the main library at Bryant Park in the heart of Manhattan. And then I get it, my dream bridge was the crossing to true knowledge, only to be obtained by daring to pass beyond the massive stone lions guarding its entrance.

We are all challenged to pass by the lions at the gate of true knowledge at some point in our lives...

We cross the ethereal Bryant Park Bridge whenever we allow ourselves deeper knowing of our multifaceted selves. The lions at the gates of each facet of true knowledge generate the emotional fires we must encounter, the proving grounds we must traverse to reach the truth at the heart of ourselves. Bearing that emotional energy, those fires of intensity, absolutely requires that our adult selves, our present selves, be fully present and aware.

We have long prepared for this encounter with the lions at the gate, as we have managed life across the bridge, back in Brooklyn so to speak—as in my dream—for decades. As adults we may finally find ourselves ready and willing to step into the fires, to withstand the tension, to breathe and release its bottled energy. Eventually, as the smoke fully clears, we are able to recover all the jewels, the diamonds of self awaiting discovery and recovery in the ashes.

Sometimes those fires that we must face are the feelings that were dissociated, cut off and walled off at the direction of the higher self to protect a younger, fledgling self from the shock of innocence interrupted.

The fires are always burning, awaiting our attention...

Sometimes those fires are the actual emotions and physical torments endured and, again, stored at the direction of the higher self whose sole concern is survival in the moment. This higher self is perfectly capable of discerning the capacity of the growing self to integrate, to fully know its experiences, and continue to grow. But it also knows that some things must wait until later, until another decade perhaps, when an older self has gathered the stability and readiness to withstand and release the energy of bottled emotion, finally ready to recover the innocent jewel of a waiting self.

Sometimes the fires to be encountered are the fires of judgment, shame, and blame that cast the self into hiding. Here the mature self enters that darkened courtroom and stands firmly with the sentenced younger self and, bearing all the feelings evoked by the judgments, allows the full truths to be revealed in the light of day. Those old judgments, fully revealed and fully felt, eventually lose their energy. This is the way to suspending judgment.

In the end, life lived becomes just that: the full truths of a life lived. Then we are freed to meet the living self that has stood waiting behind it all, anxiously and tenderly awaiting the moment of new life, in the library of true knowledge on the other side of the ethereal Bryant Park Bridge. This self has waited patiently for this moment, to be finally received as a genuine facet of the true diamond self.

Who knows when the Bryant Park Bridge will appear?

We accrue new facets of our diamond selves each time we dare to cross the ethereal Bryant Park Bridge, the bridge that appears when the triggers and synchronicities come to lead us into fuller recapitulation of our true selves.

When that bridge does finally appear and beckon us to cross, it is telling us that we, as adults, are ready to pass through the lions proving ground and pick up the treasures of knowledge that lie waiting. That is, the knowledge of our true selves, ready now to enter into new life…on the other side of the bridge.

At the library,
Chuck

A Day in a Life: Reflecting On Lessons Learned

When the crows of recapitulation come...

The crows of recapitulation show up regularly, asking us to reflect on lessons learned, asking us to seek value and meaning in every aspect of life. It is only in looking back, in recapitulating, that we are fully available to see what we might have missed while in the midst of learning our lessons.

Our lessons come to us in a myriad of ways, in the situations we find ourselves in and in the circumstances of our lives, desired and looked forward to or put upon us and feared. It doesn’t matter how the lessons come. The only thing that matters is that we take the time to study them and fully grasp what they are trying to teach us.

I wonder what I’m supposed to learn today? I often ask myself. And then I wait. By the end of the day I may often have to search for meaning, yet, at other times, I have grasped meaning throughout the day. Either way, I am aware that I must recapitulate the day’s events in order to fully integrate the lessons of value into my evolving spiritual journey.

In daily recapitulation, as well as in deeper recapitulation around our past, we are offered the opportunity to become a more fully evolved human being and to grow spiritually as well. Eventually, we might learn that everyone we encounter in our lives has something important to offer us. Whether they appear as angels or devils, it doesn’t really matter, because they are all there to teach us something of value.

Although the process of recapitulation can be extremely challenging at times, if we stay focused on learning we offer ourselves a tool to navigate through even the roughest of memories and situations as they arise. In constantly asking what we are supposed to be learning, we give ourselves a purpose. Often the deeper meaning is only revealed as we constantly return to an event, over and over again, going back over the details, seeing everything from a new angle each time we return.

It may not be clear at first just what it is that we are supposed to be learning today...

The gift of distance is the most important gift we are given as we recapitulate. The gift of time having passed offers us the additional gift of reflection from a new perspective because, each day as we live out our lives, we are different; we are inevitably changing. We are a day, a week, a year older and wiser. We are physically different too, as well as mentally and emotionally. Life’s unfolding itself offers us change, even if we are not able to see it clearly.

When the crows of recapitulation descend, when thoughts return to a recent event or a long past event, we are being asked to learn a valuable lesson. Can I be open to it? Can I suspend judgments about my self and others, so that I can reach a deeper meaning and understanding of what I am being offered?

Personally, I discover the intrinsic value of recapitulation more fully each day. In my last blog I wrote about the death of my beloved aunt at the age of 92. It was quite a day we had together. Now, a week later, as I reflect on that experience again I gain a new, deeper sense of what else was transpiring that day. I more clearly see now, in looking back, just what a journey it was.

In a shamanic sense, it was an incredible journey for both of us, but for me, personally, I have gained a level of clarity that I might otherwise not have accessed had I not continued to reflect. I now understand that my aunt was always an impeccable Shaman, present in my life as a teacher of the highest magnitude from the moment I was born. No matter what I presented her with, she never dismissed or doubted me, or my experiences. She was loving and tender, emotionally and compassionately supportive. Sharp and witty, never one to beat around the bush, she was also cuttingly direct when necessary. She taught me how to value experience, how to value the journeys that we all take, what it meant to care deeply about others, and finally she taught me how to leave this world without attachment.

We shared a lifetime of connection: in spending time together in deep conversation, in letter writing, in sharing books, in taking many walks together over the years, whether we were in New York City, the countryside or along the beaches picking up shells. And finally, we shared her dying process together. We were deeply, spiritually connected. Now I know more fully what that means.

At the same time that I accept this woman as a shamanic presence in my life, I must also accept other people in my life—those whom I feel less spiritually connected to—as shamans as well. I must accept that though these other persons may have been strict, withholding, even downright cruel, that they too have been Shaman teachers of the highest magnitude, leading me on my journey, teaching me invaluable lessons. Though presented in a different fashion, the lessons taught by the tricksters, devils, and disconnected journeyers are no less important than those taught to us by the soul mates, angels and spiritually connected journeyers we meet and travel through our lives with.

By constantly recapitulating the events of the past few weeks, I have recapitulated my way to a greater understanding of life itself. This is the ultimate gift of recapitulation. What I know today that I didn’t fully grasp a week ago, is what the Shamans tell us, and what the Buddhists tell us: that we are all Shamans and we are all Buddhas. I now understand more deeply what the Shamans mean when they talk about dreaming and what the Buddhists mean when they tell us that all worlds are interconnected, and that is, that we are all dreaming the same dream; awake or asleep, alive or dead.

Eventually our deep reflection will lead to greater clarity...

And now I can see how I flowingly embraced and proceeded on a journey with my aunt through her final days, taking up the intent she set, as it was presented to me each day. In retrospect, I see how seamlessly her agenda flowed. I learned so much from this Shaman teacher, as she asked me to face each challenge as it arose, personal and otherwise. Synchronistically tapping into her intent, I was asked to perform and facilitate things I could never have dreamed of. In so doing, I learned how to flow with the energy in the universe, going into our interconnected dream world without fear and without attachment, knowing that it was right, that life was flowing as it should.

In facing my fears and challenges—in everyday life and in recapitulating—I have learned so many lessons about the people I encounter every day. In reflecting on life from this newly gained, greater clarity, I conclude: You are all Shamans on shamanic journeys. You are all Buddhas seeking enlightenment. You are all teaching lessons to everyone else you meet—in how you live and learn your own lessons—just as they are teaching you.

As the crows of recapitulation swoop in, it’s important to remember that they are carrying our most valuable life lessons on their broad wings, in their strong beaks and in their sharp claws. If we can withstand their presence, listen to their messages, step back and reflect on the meaning of what they show us, we eventually gain access to the clarity that deep inner work affords us.

And once we have learned our lessons for the day we are free to turn and walk away from the crows, free for the moment, until they reappear another day with new lessons for us to learn. And then, without fear and without attachment, we are challenged to ask once again, most humbly: What am I supposed to learn today?

Noticing the crows,
Jan

Readers of Infinity: You Are All Safe

Dear Infinity: Please guide us.

Do not falter, but stay upon your projected path. Though interference may seek to throw you off balance, do not topple in the force of the winds that may come down upon you. Though difficulties may arise, do not attach to that which does not concern you nor seek your attention directly.

Should energy seek your own, remain balanced, aware and significantly concerned as you weigh the meaning of such energy. At the same time, allow nature to take its own course. Allow for the natural unfolding of life to lead all upon their journeys. Neither a savior nor a sinner be, but guide the self to energetic stability and, by your example, show others how life is to be lived.

Stay in balance and let meaning reveal itself.

You are all journeyers of the highest magnitude. Do not ever lose sight of your greater meaning and your greater purpose. Though you may not have succinctly defined either of those deeper aspects of life, it does not matter, for they guide you anyway. Purpose and meaning of the significance of life are the fuels that propel you forward. Let them take you to the next level.

Remember: Life is good. No matter where you are in your lives at this moment, Infinity guides you to the truth. Let it take you there. You are all safe in your world.

As you let your journey unfold, take this deeper knowing with you: You are all safe.

Chuck’s Place: Here Comes The Judge

Sigmund Freud called the judge the Superego. For Freud, the superego is an amalgam of the significant authority figures in our early life—taken in, internalized as an active life force inside the psyche of every human being. The superego becomes the architect and active judging force that structures our experiences of right and wrong, good and bad. This judging function has its origins outside the human psyche—it is a Not I—yet, it is taken in and experienced as a formidable character, incessantly controlling and shaping the I of everyday life.

The Shamans of Ancient Mexico saw the Mind itself as the judge, an internalized entity of extraneous origin. Like Freud’s superego, those shamans see the mind as largely shaped by the socialization each human being undergoes from the moment of entry into this world.

Socialization formats perception into a uniform interpretation system. The mind shapes reality. The mind tells us what is real and dismisses, as fanciful illusion or imagination, all experience that does not fit its precepts. The mind acts quickly to reshape and dismiss any perception that defies its definitions of real and possible. In fact, the mind acts so rapidly to forget irrational experience that we are left helpless in its wake. How quickly we forget the experience of the dream upon awakening.

How dare you enter here!

The mind is actually a massive gargoyle that guards, through terror, the entry to the library of true knowing and seeing. Let he and she that transgress beyond its menacing countenance be forewarned: You are on your own! When you suspend the judge, you enter the theatre of the truly real. For the ancient shamans, the theatre of the real is interconnected energy as it flows in the universe.

I stepped out of my office on Tuesday night and into a dream. Almost immediately, a gargoyle appeared out of nowhere and embraced me, seeking my attention. I was caught off-guard by an onslaught of unrelenting intensity; the gargoyle in my face momentarily distracting me. The clock was ticking. I was aware, in some vague, deep place that I was on a mission. I had to gather my energy and maintain my focus. I stepped beyond the gargoyle.

For ten years now, I have not been able to fully recapitulate all that I experienced at the moment of Jeanne’s death. Others have dreamed that dream and reported it to me to jostle my awakening, but thus far my memory of that magical moment remains quite edited. On Tuesday night, I made the decision to go to the hospital to be with Jan. I made the decision to fully show up for death, the most meaningful encounter in life—to see what happens.

I exit the highway at the wrong Rinaldi Blvd. and enter the twilight zone. It’s dark, one way streets to nowhere appear. I’m caught in a maze with no reentry to the highway. I feel the clock ticking. I steady myself, drive the wrong way down a one-way street onto other streets that seem to lead back the way I’d come. Suddenly, I’m in the heart of Poughkeepsie and a sign appears: Rt. 9 South. Okay, let’s do it again!

This time, I exit properly and trace my way to the parking garage at the hospital. I’m met by a powerful river of cars and humanity moving in the opposite direction. I’m swimming upstream, against the current. Visiting hours are over. Will getting in pose a problem?

I enter a dimly lit, quiet lobby and proceed to the desk. Immediately a commotion breaks the silence. Gargoyle #2 is raging. His face is elongated, distorted, his eyes bulging. He cursingly demands drugs for his girlfriend, in pain, “improperly treated in Emergency!” he screamingly exclaims. The security guards and welcoming woman are pensive, seeking clarity, seeking to restore calm, unsure of his next move, seeking to avoid an explosion of lethality.

I remain completely calm. I give him no energy, simply stand quietly, awaiting my turn. Eventually, others engage the gargoyle and the shaken clerk at the desk informs me that, although visiting hours are over, she’s sure I can go up for a few minutes. A phone call is made; a pass issued.

As I get off the elevator, the sign for room 350 points to the left. I walk into a quiet dark area—Orthopedics. Something is not right.

I return to the elevator. The sign now points in the opposite direction. Though I now walk right past the room and must retrace my steps, I finally arrive.

Jan sees me. She is aglow, staring at me as if she has never seen me before.

“Oh my God! Look at you! You’re so young!”

I look back at her and think, “Her energy is amazing!”

We adjust our chairs and calmly await the miraculous. No words are needed.

I carefully listen to the breathing: I know how that works. My attention keeps being drawn to the feet: waving, jostling energy. Each time it happens, my mind wakes up and examines: “No. No movement, no activity,” it states. My perception is cursorily dismissed; my dream forgotten. But, it keeps happening! And each time the alerted mind steps in, reexamines and reaffirms its precepts: “This can’t be happening! Look again, there is no activity, only complete stillness, as expected.”

Soon enough, the final breath comes. Jan and I sit in total calmness, immediately recapitulating our shared experience of the energy body as it exited. The miraculous had occurred!

Carlos Castaneda once wrote that when he finally was able to see energy, he was amazed at the realization that we see energy all the time as it flows in the universe. But then—here comes the judge! And we remember only what it tells us “really” happened, as it rationally dismisses the magic of the real dream.

The mind persists in a steady effort to restore order, dismissing and forgetting what we really see all the time. It’s only through persistent recapitulation that we are able to change the mind, or, in reality, relativize its dominance.

The dream continues,
Chuck

See also Jan’s blog: A Clandestine Meeting, published earlier this week.

A Day in a Life: A Clandestine Meeting

“Is this a clandestine meeting?” my elderly aunt asked me when I arrived at her hospital bed yesterday morning.

“Yes, it is,” I said, and we laughed.

We had spoken the night before. She was ready to move on, done with this world, in her 93rd year eager and happy, contented and determined.

“Will you see me through?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I’ll see you through.”

So began a process that we both knew had begun eons ago, lifetimes ago, not clandestine in the usual sense of the word, but more like a final meeting that we both knew was meant to be fulfilled. Not only had we conversed over the past few years and weeks about her death, but we both knew that we had been a part of each other’s lives many times before. There was no doubt that we had sat at each other’s deathbeds before, prepared to “see the other through.”

The woodpecker came to visit this morning, that most determined of birds who drums the heartbeat of life itself, including new life.

The day began with determination and focus. She was ready and the mission was begun. We went over everything together, making sure that she knew what to expect as we took her off the machines, and that all of her wishes were attended to. She thanked her body for being such a pleasant and steady vehicle her entire life, letting it know that it would be handled with respect when she left it behind. We talked about the dying process as like being born. In fact, this had been our conversation for many weeks. She had called me the night before.

“Why can’t I die?” she pleaded.

“Well, I’m going to be very straightforward with you. You are dying,” I said, reminding her of what we had spoken about. “You are in the process. You are going through the labor of dying just like you once went through the labor of being born. Your body remembers it even if you don’t. It will happen, you are already on your way. It takes patience and release.”

“Okay,” she said. “Thank you.”

We talked about her diving in and swimming into the light and not looking back or getting distracted. She was thankful for an image that she could work with as she lay dying.

“I’m ready to swim into the light,” she said when our preparatory talk was done, and so began her final journey on this earth.

In a most profound experience we spent the next twelve hours together, both of us going in and out of worlds. She spoke a few last wishes and then relaxed into the process. A few relatives came and went, the priest came and gave her final rites. We prayed for her. The prayers of my Catholic childhood, not spoken in many years, came easily to my tongue, spoken for her, a devout Catholic. I prayed for her in my own way too throughout the day, the things we had already spoken of: that her journey be peaceful, joyous, and happy, that she leave this world and its worries behind and go freely now.

I had told her that I would see her as far as I could, but then she would have to take over.

She nodded, and then asked, “When?”

“You’ll know,” I said, “when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” she said, and that was all we needed to agree on; we would both know when the time was right. I bent down and whispered in her ear, giving her encouragement throughout the day, until I felt my job was done. Then I let go of her hand and sat back.

Chuck came and joined me in the evening. We sat beside her together as she breathed her last breath. We experienced her energy calmly leaving her body, not looking back, her spirit freed, swimming right into the light.

We all have a clandestine meeting with death. My aunt knew this. She was well prepared, unafraid, looking forward to the journey. Today I feel her having that experience, as profoundly and fully as we had our experience together yesterday.

I too will one day swim into the light, and I look forward to going as peacefully and with as much dignity as my aunt did yesterday. I thank her for allowing me to be part of her long journey in this life and I wish her Godspeed on her new journey in infinity.

Jan

See also Chuck’s blog: Here Comes The Judge, on the same subject.