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Chuck’s Place: Meet The Body Where It Is At!

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Startled awake, I am taut and tense, my mind spinning it's tales… - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Startled awake, I am taut and tense, my mind spinning it’s tales…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

I awaken with a start from an action-packed thriller dream. As the storyline reassembles to waking consciousness, I survey the state of my body. My jaw and throat are tightly clenched. The muscles of my legs and arms are tight as well. My pelvis, abdomen, stomach and chest are all frozen. In my stilled state I breathe slowly, lightly, and intermittently from my upper chest. My body lies in utter stillness. My emotions are sadness and fear. My overall body sensation is one of pensive anxiety.

I begin to review the dream, what it means in this dimension of waking life. What are the parallels, the synchronistic implications for life in this day? My mind begins to tell me a story to fit the theme of the dream, to account for the vigilant state I experience in my body. My mind concludes that indeed, bad news must be on the near horizon; I must remain on alert, brace myself.

I remind myself of the many stories my mind has generated in the past to account for similar physical states of heightened alertness. I remind myself how rarely those stories have turned out to be true. I remind myself that the storyteller mind is quite creative, however, its genre is essentially fiction, not to be trusted to guide the daily ship.

These reminders, I notice, have little impact on releasing my body from the vice grip it finds itself in. I appreciate the mind’s attempt to help the body release through these reflective reminders, but I also realize that my body needs a different approach.

I direct my consciousness away from the storytelling center of the mind and enter into the state of my abdomen. I notice the tension of its grip. Slowly, I direct my breath into my abdomen, allowing it to expand like a balloon. With that, I notice the tightness in my pelvis and stomach gladly asking to follow the lead of my abdomen. They all release and my abdominal energy flows in harmony once again. I notice my breath beginning to fill my chest cavity, the muscles around my ribcage relaxing, allowing for deeper expansion as my heart opens as well.

I shift my focus to my still-clenched throat and jaw, releasing the tightness of my jaw, directing air slowly into the channel of my throat, allowing it to expand slightly more with each breath. I notice my fingers and toes spontaneously uncurling. I feel warm blood flowing throughout my body. I notice my mind is quieter, as it listens to my body, how it questions whether there is, in fact, danger at all. That thought sends a spark of alertness through my body. I quickly shift my awareness back to my body and take in a full breath, allowing all parts to release as I exhale. I’m good to go now.

My mind and body at ease, flowing once again… - Photo by Jan Ketchel
My mind and body at ease,
flowing once again…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

I realize that had I not gone and met my body where it was at, I would have held its tension, however, subliminally, throughout the day. It’s message to the mind would have generated an ongoing epic story, reinforcing its conclusion that I must remain on alert. That would have been the dominant experience of the day. Without awareness brought to the body, to release it from its reaction to the world of the dream, I would not have been freed to be fully present to life during the daytime.

It’s not enough to tell ourselves to relax. We must go to the body and meet it where it’s at. We must free it to accompany us through the day, so that it may correctly perceive and communicate its reactions to the here and now, offering a true gauge of the reality of the moment. I know, from years of study and observation, as well as personal experience, that like the animals who sense and communicate the momentarily arriving danger of an earthquake or oncoming storm, that the body will tell me when there is real danger. We can trust it, but must first go to meet it where it may be stuck and preoccupied with old reactions to old stories, which must be cleared if we are to be fully present and aware.

As my dream and subsequent experience reveals, we must go and meet the body where it is at, listen to its findings, and help it release old reactions if we are to fully benefit from its ability to assess and react to real and present danger. To merely shout commands from above, telling it to relax, will not suffice. We must go inward and tenderly treat ourselves to a natural release. Once we have accomplished that, all can proceed from there!

Chuck

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: Inhabit New Habit

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Nature is on automatic pilot... - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Nature is on automatic pilot…
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

Reasoning, or thinking, is a function of consciousness. The far greater share of our mental functioning operates on automatic pilot, in the vast realm of the unconscious mind.

Although we can consciously decide to breathe, to breathe deeper, to adjust the rhythm and length of a breath, the majority of breaths we will take in our lifetime will happen automatically, outside the purview of our conscious awareness.

Our unconscious is filled with billions of such preset programs that we all share and inherit from the evolutionary journey of our species. This was why Jung named the deepest level of the unconscious the “collective,” versus personal, as at the deepest level we all share in common the same preset programs to react and survive as living human beings.

The unconscious mind does not need to think through eons of experience in order to gain the precise knowledge of how to react to a given need or stimulus. I was once deeply wounded in the palm of my hand on a beach. I was alone. I passed out; that is, consciousness left. When it returned, I discovered my hand packed in sand, the bleeding completely stopped. I was good to go. The program to “dress” that wound lay dormant and ready in the unconscious. It was triggered to action upon contact with the stimulus of the wound as it pushed the ego out of the way and took care of business. This is the essence of instinct—inherited habits to address adaptive needs to ensure survival.

With the advent of consciousness, human beings have a new source of habit making. Utilizing our faculty of reasoning and learning, we introduce new patterns of behavior into our lives. When we learn to drive, for instance, we—with consciousness—repetitively practice a series of behaviors, such as learning to brake and drive with one foot, learning to turn the wheel, to park, and to stay in lanes with others going in the same direction. Once these tasks are consciously mastered, they slip into the realm of the unconscious, as habits that react on demand, as needed, when we drive. After awhile, driving starts to require minimal consciousness—in fact, we easily daydream while our unconscious reacts to all the stimuli we encounter as we safely take our journeys.

The unconscious is a habitual mind that reacts to needs and commands. This fact lies at the essence of hypnotic suggestion. Like the habit of driving that we ask the unconscious to perform when we enter our cars, the unconscious awaits orders constantly throughout the day. Hypnotists are aware of this part of the mind that responds to suggestion, and speak directly to it.

The truth is, we are all our own hypnotists. The Shamans of Ancient Mexico identified our inner hypnotist as the internal dialogue that incessantly barks orders at the unconscious mind, manifesting in how we see ourselves and construct our world. That internal dialogue may tell us that we are inadequate, unattractive, unfulfilled, undervalued, underserving, etc. Of course, it can also deliver other consistent messages that support a sense of worthiness and adequacy, but this is less common. We become so entranced by the habitual definitions of our internal dialogue that we construct a personality and sense of self according to its dictates. We become entrenched in a familiar definition of self that, however uncomfortable or unfulfilled it may be, persists because of the constant redundant messages and orders delivered by the incessant internal dialogue.

Ready to dive in and create some new waves? - Photo by Jan Ketchel
Ready to dive in and create some new waves?
– Photo by Jan Ketchel

The Shamans of Ancient Mexico suggest that we interrupt this automatic flow of messages by canceling the internal dialogue and consciously delivering new suggestions, what they call intent. Intent is the mantra of a new, consciously delivered, command, bent on manifesting a new sense of self, as well as a new world.

When we coin a new intention—i.e., I am calm—and repeat it religiously, like a prayer, we are delivering new working orders, entering a new habit into our unconscious mind that will activate the programs associated with manifesting that intent. We must be religious in our practice—highly repetitive—if we are to push aside the old messages, the conflicting old messages of the reigning internal dialogue, which can only serve to confuse, that is, deliver mixed signals to the unconscious mind. And mixed messages, as we know, confound the manifestation of change.

We must be disciplined and persistent in our practice. Remember, it took a long time and a lot of practice to truly master the art of driving as a guaranteed habit. It is the same with manifesting and inhabiting a new habit. Perseverance and repetitive practice will, ultimately, manifest intent in new habit!

Chuck

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: The Mind Is A Great Thing To Lose

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Forced out-of-body... - Art by J. E. Ketchel
Forced out-of-body… – Art by J. E. Ketchel

The term out-of-body experience, also known as an OBE, is specific to an energy body state where consciousness is separate and away from the physical body. The physical body might remain in full view to the energy body during an OBE, or the energy body might travel away from the physical body to the ends of the earth, though remain tethered and fully capable of snapping back into it in an instant. This separation of energy and physical body is quite natural, especially in dreaming. It can also happen volitionally in waking states or involuntarily under the impact of trauma.

Traumatic separation of physical body and energy body is considered a dissociative psychological defense that occurs when overpowering physical or psychological events—events that are too much for the body to process—send consciousness into refuge away from the body.

As opposed to an OBE, dissociation can also occur within the body, in an in-body experience. In contrast to a separation of energy body and physical body, this dissociation involves a separation of mind and body where the mind dominates as an in-body energy center that preoccupies our attention—or consciousness—with an incessant internal dialogue that judges, critiques, and compares us to others without pause. This nonstop stream of chatter can so absorb our awareness that our bodies are completely rigidified and fatigued by the emotional energy generated by these internal messages. In fact, our internal messaging systems, like the texts and pings we constantly hear on mobile devices as we walk, sit, talk, sleep, and drive, completely dissociate us from the location and action of our bodies in space and time.

The Shamans of Ancient Mexico called this dominance of the human body by the mind, a foreign installation—an aberration that grossly limits our humanness and the fuller realization of our true human potential. Pragmatic practitioners, those shamans realized that they could not fight the mind with the mind. They discovered instead that they could find inner silence, the shutting down of the incessant dialogue of the mind, by practicing bodily movements that required their full attention in order to be performed successfully. Toward this end those shamans saturated their lives with these physical movements, which they called Magical Passes. With full attention placed on doing these bodily movements, they were able to achieve increasing moments of inner silence that released access to their fuller potential as navigators of infinity outside the limited confines of the mind.

I encourage the practice of movements such as tensegrity, yoga, martial arts, or any physical activity that when practiced mindfully— with full awareness of the body experience—separates the practitioner from the meanderings of the dissociative mind.

Awareness, in full association with body, unleashes our true potential as human beings and frees us from the bondage of a mind-driven dissociated life, which is the current fixation of our species. The mind in this fixed state is a great thing to lose, as awareness is then freed to fully coordinate with the wisdom and action of the body in alignment with our unlimited potential.

Always moving,
Chuck

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: Barking Meditation

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It’s 10:30 p.m. A dog barks incessantly. “What dog is it?” I wonder. “Whose dog is it? Who would allow their dog to carry on for so long?” I return my awareness to my tiredness and the dog’s barking fades into the sounds of the night.

It’s 1:00 a.m. The dog is still barking. Someone must have gone away, left their dog outside. The dog is frightened, helpless, terrified of the night, terrified in abandonment. Perhaps I should go and find the dog, find out its situation, reassure it. Perhaps I need to rescue this poor dog in need. I’m sad. The image of the shivering victim dog is haunting.

I breathe. Thoughts tell me I have an obligation to care for, to take responsibility for, this trapped, scared, frightened animal. I notice my thoughts and my feelings. I return my awareness to my tiredness. The barking is absorbed into the sounds of the night.

Now it’s 3:00 a.m. The dog barks on, without pause, an incessant, monotonous bark. Someone must be hurt. Its owners. Perhaps they’ve died. This is a loyal dog. This is Lassie calling for, demanding, help. Those barks may be a deep cry for needed attention, for someone in need. How can I possibly not respond?

I’m anxious, worried, sad. What kind of person would close their eyes to such need, such tragedy? What kind of person puts their own needs and comforts above the suffering around them? Shouldn’t I do something?

I breathe, releasing the mobilizing energy that accompanies my thoughts. The sounds of the night, deafening, once again absorb the barking.

It’s 4:00 a.m. Same rhythm, same intensity of barking. I isolate the barking cry of what must be a dog being punished by being left outside. It must be an owner that has an idea about training his dog. It’s necessary to give a dog firm consequences. Perhaps it soiled in the house or chewed the couch. A righteous owner is teaching the dog a lesson, I surmise. It will never forget this lesson for disobedience. This owner has cut off any feeling for this frightened dog in pain. This owner is proud of its ability to be firm and consistent. I’m angry at this owner. But then I find compassion, reminded of my own ignorance, once having humiliated a dog, feeling it necessary in training. I remember my father training a dog of my youth in the same manner. It’s what men do, cut off feeling, do the necessary deed.

My body is tense. I breathe. I release the tension. My awareness melts once again into the sounds of the night.

It’s 5:00 a.m. We sit and drink our coffee. We ponder the barking dog, still active as we sip. Jan suggests that it’s the sheep dog at the sheep farm down the road, protecting its flock from the coyotes that roam at night. I hadn’t considered that possibility.

I ponder my journey through the night, the sleep I lost and found. I notice my heart. Calm, unstirred. I turn to my spirit. No impetus to act. It’s my mind that has conjured the horrors of the night. The mind, with its thoughts, seeking to stir agitated feelings, draining my energy, commanding my awareness.

The shamans call the mind the foreign installation, an entity that feeds on worry and agitation, an entity that conjures and projects without substance. In the night, I noticed its wonderings, but never fully took the bait. The feelings stirred were never true messages from the heart. They were feelings triggered by projections of the mind, not feelings triggered by my real perceiving self.

The shamans teach that we are perceivers, that is our true nature. We perceive—we know—with our whole being. Then we know what’s truly there and we can act with certainty. The mind, on the other hand, has become a symbiotic appendage that has gained ascendancy over our perceiving being, draining us of our energy, of our perceptual certainty.

Last night, as I drove up the hill to my home, I encountered the young female fox that roams the neighborhood. I stopped. She stopped. Head moving side to side, sniffing, perceiving, she showed no interest in spending energy on connecting with me. She knew immediately that I wasn’t a threat. She perceived rightly, her energy being spent only on what was real and necessary. My own perceiving self, I’ve learned—like the fox—will alert me when it’s truly time to act, when there is a real danger at hand, a real concern.

My Barking Meditation Teacher

After the night of the barking dog, I left for work early. I drove slowly past the homes of the suspects of the night. I doubted that I’d see anything, but asked the universe to please reveal the source of the mystery. My last pause was in front of the farmhouse of the sheep farm. I sat. Nothing. Then suddenly, the large white sheep dog appeared by the side of the house. Staring at me, it barked the now familiar bark. I continued to sit and stare. It started to advance toward me, ready to chase me off, perceiving me as a threat. It was time to leave.

Jan was right. It was a guardian dog, with unrelenting persistence, protecting its flock from predators. As I drove off, I thanked it for my nightlong training in mindful meditation.

Perceiving more, thinking less,
Chuck

Messages from Jeanne

Readers of Infinity: Body-Mind Communication

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Somewhere in between the shadows lies the aware self

Dear Infinity: What message of guidance do you offer us today?

Be mindful of the body self. Be aware that pain signifies a need for change. Be also aware that in change itself there is indeed pain. Pain may be a catalyst to change and change, in turn, may trigger pain, but either way, in offering pain, life is suggesting that change is necessary.

Why must we change? As human beings life is all about change. From the moment of conception until death, change is constantly taking place, both incrementally and in leaps and bounds. Sometimes we find ourselves perfectly happy to be along for the ride and at other times quite reluctant. But, in the end, change happens anyway.

There is a determining factor, often overlooked, in the changing process and its outcome, and that factor is the self, the aware self. In training the aware self, one becomes attuned to what the body self indicates in its daily alerts.

Pay attention to pain, not as something to be suppressed and gotten rid of, but as a challenge to raise self-awareness. Pay attention to what pain is trying to tell you, often on a very deep level. Pain may come in the form of physical pain, but it is also likely to come in the form of emotional or mental pain as well.

Allow the self to treat pain differently now. Attend to it differently. Ask it to clarify its message. Ask it to guide you to understanding and release—for pain requires a response on your part if it is to truly be released. In release comes greater clarity and growth, the kind of growth that leads to more acute awareness of the self, both the physical body self and its messages as well as the higher, aware, self and its messages.

Inner work can begin simply by bringing attention to pain in the body—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual—in whatever form it appears. Ask it to let you in on why you must suffer. The higher self and the body self communicate quite well already, but you lie somewhere in the middle of the communication, often not privy to the real messages being sent. Learn to speak the silent language of body-mind communication. It’s not really that hard to do.

Somewhere in the folds of self lies clarity

Ask pain, in whatever form it comes, to lead you to clarity. Know that it is necessary, first of all, and know, as well, that it is equally necessary to acquiesce to the release of it. It is what happens in between that matters. Old pain left behind creates blockages and communication between the body self and the higher self suffers as a result, leaving you feeling distant, in muffled unawareness.

Find time for quiet talk within. Learn the secret language of body-mind communication. Begin with that. Sit with quiet mind and wait for insight. You will receive it. Decide what needs to be done to begin a process of change that is right for you alone. If a course of action is not clear, ask again. Receive another message and ask another question. In patience, await your body-mind response. It will come.

There is always a part of you ready to give the answer. There is another part of you that must be ready to receive it. Once you begin to recognize these two parts and the language that they alone speak, you will be well on your way to changing in a different way, all aspects of self—body, mind, spirit, physical, mental, emotional—communicating nicely.

Oh, and don’t forget to enjoy the process, one of the most engaging and enlightening, that of being human with awareness!

Thank you infinity!

Most humbly and gratefully channeled by Jan Ketchel.