Tag Archives: recapitulation

Chuck’s Place: Strengthening The Present-Adult-Parent Self

March 2, 2012 Chuck Leave a comment

Photo by Jan — Meet present-adult-parent self

The present self is our conscious self, the self we have forged through the years of challenge of life thus far lived. The present self is an evolving self, a self that grows as it forms relationships with parts of the self that live outside of consciousness and as it integrates long forgotten or stored away parts of life experiences into consciousness. The present self also grows as it takes in knowledge and experience from the outside world that broadens its ability to navigate life.

The present self is therefore our most adult self, the most grown-up part of our self. This is also our true parent self, the self we trust to keep us safe and secure, and to make the myriad of decisions that guide our actions each day.

The present self is essential to recapitulation. When life events trigger the surfacing of traumatic material, it is the present self that must take up the challenge. Very often the triggered material is extremely emotionally charged, threatening to overtake our calm, our focus, and our ability to stay present and in control. When triggered, we might become overwhelmed by debilitating psychosomatic symptoms, like extreme pain. We might suddenly find ourselves outside our bodies, viewing life at a great distance. We might also become overwhelmed with nausea, dizziness, and the growing feeling of disintegration.

The ultimate goal in recapitulation is to fully relive an experience with the full presence and attunement of the present self. This ability to remain fully present through an experience that once overpowered and fragmented the psyche is a major step toward stripping the experience of its disruptive power and beginning a process of integration that eventually renders the experience emotionally neutral, becoming a significant but now non-disruptive fact of life lived.

During the recapitulation process, the present self becomes the parent we never had, the one that can hear and feel the complete truth without judgment, as we identify and release our myriad of feelings frozen in the memory. Our grown-up, adult self helps us sort through our confusions as we continue to unravel what really happened in the incident under experience.

The key to this healing process is not recovering lost memory. Memories will come of their own accord, either through triggers or intent. The most important factor in recapitulation is the ability and strength of the present self to stay present and receive the emotionally charged lost memory as it arrives. For this, we absolutely need our present self to be the adult, the parent we can trust to see us through the journey of recapitulation and recovery.

We strengthen the present self through mindful practice. Mindfulness asks us to gently and persistently practice centering and returning our awareness to our place of inner calm. That place is unique to each person. For some it may be in the heart center, for others in the feet, and for still others in the vibratory sounds in the ears. Some find that calm in their breathing, others in images of safe places or in mantras and prayer. Mindfulness practice asks that we train our awareness to increasingly find its way back to our calm center as we navigate through all the events of daily life, whether taking a shower, walking, driving, eating, working, sleeping, sitting alone or in company.

Constantly, but calmly and gently, we notice where our awareness has strayed. We acknowledge what it has landed on, and push nothing away, but neither do we attach or continue to freely associate. Instead, we gently return our awareness to our calm center and engage in calmness. And, in so doing, we strengthen our ability to find home base again and again.

By constantly anchoring in calmness we develop and strengthen the ability to stay present and observant, to feel but not be submerged when infinity decides its time to present us with a golden moment of recapitulation, asking us to retrieve and free another lost part of ourselves. Though dizziness, disorientation, and emotional tsunamis may ride in on its wake, our present-adult-parent self remains fully present and attuned, tracking the unfolding storm like a keen observer, seeing the fuller picture for the first time. The present self stands by the younger self, modeling the ability to bear the full intensity of the recapitulation experience, as the fears and anxieties that have held revelations in check are dismantled and the truth is revealed.

In full awareness, the present-adult-parent self, well trained for just this moment, listens and clarifies for the younger self all its confusions about what really happened and why. Clarity brings understanding, as shame and blame are replaced by acceptance of the massive challenge once encountered by the younger self. This is what happens during a recapitulation experience when the formerly frozen, split-off younger self is securely welcomed into the arms of the evolving present self, released now to enjoy a fuller, more complete life.

Mindful practice is an ongoing practice that is available to the present self at any moment of the day. We needn’t wait to set time aside to practice, though that kind of discipline is also valuable training. However, for all practical purposes, we can practice mindfully throughout the day by simply bringing our awareness to our calm center over and over again.

Each morning as we arise, we might pause and ground ourselves before we start our day. As we go about our morning ablutions, eat our breakfast, plan our agenda, go into our work day, make decisions, daydream, ruminate, obsess, we might suddenly become aware of where our awareness has strayed, gently acknowledge it, and invite it back into our calm center, even if only for a moment. This is mindful practice. Each time we do this throughout our day, we strengthen our present-adult-parent awareness. Eventually, seemingly without effort, we find it fully present and ready for its encounters with infinity, as it comes beckoning us into recapitulation and evolution, enticing us always toward greater wholeness.

From that calm center,

Chuck

Messages from Jeanne

Readers of Infinity: Life Is A Hall of Mirrors

February 27, 2012 Jan Leave a comment

Dear Jeanne: Why must we suffer?

The other day someone asked me a rhetorical question: What’s the point of life if all we do is die and come back to suffer again? What’s the point?

We pondered the question from many angles, from the Shamanic perspective, from the Buddhist perspective, from what we’ve personally experienced and learned, but kept coming to the greater question, that being: What’s the point of anything?

What I’ve gained—in doing deep inner work around my own life lived, in doing recapitulation, and in having had experiences beyond the mundane—is a greater awareness of everything as quite the opposite of pointless and instead full of meaning and purpose. Today, I ask, can you clarify for us: What is the point of all our suffering?

Jeanne answers:

The most straightforward answer I can provide is this: Suffering leads to growth.

I follow that up by asking you, My Dear Ones, a rhetorical question in return: How would you even know you were suffering if you did not have something good to compare it to? How would you know that suffering was happening if you did not also know when experiences of the sublime were occurring? In this dichotomy I present the two facets of the meaning of life, for there is indeed great meaning in life. The point is to evolve beyond suffering. But it is only through suffering that the pointlessness of suffering will be revealed and it is only through suffering that the sublime will be revealed as well.

Fathom infinity as endlessness though not as nothingness. In suffering, one may remain endlessly caught in feelings of purposelessness, on the endless wheel of suffering. It is only in having experiences beyond suffering, outside of the wheel of suffering, that one will understand that there is more to life than suffering alone. Suffering is relegated to that realm, to life on earth. There are many other levels of existence. In your spiritual endeavors and in your experiences of life itself you have glimpses of these advanced realms of life; fleeting as they may be, accepted or rejected, they nonetheless occur many times in a lifetime. Life is not subject to life in human form alone, but exists independent of the human form as well.

Perhaps it is best explained this way: the spirit inside every human being knows that life has meaning, that there is a point to all life, to suffering and bliss alike. It is revealed in ways that do not overwhelm. It is revealed in experiences that each one of you can handle, even though you may think otherwise.

I interrupt Jeanne with a thought. Yesterday, Jeanne, I had the clear perception, perhaps clearer than ever, that the recapitulation process is very much like the dying process, that is, as we recapitulate we shed an old self, much the way we shed our human form and leave our body in death. Would you agree?

Yes, I would agree, Jeanne replies.

I go on to state: I agree with you Jeanne that in recapitulating we invariably allow ourselves the opportunity to understand life on a deeper level. In my own process, I began to understand both the Shaman’s perspective and the Buddhist concepts of life and afterlife at a much deeper level of understanding. I could not have fully embraced these new ideas had I not had many experiences during my recapitulation. In fact, recapitulation became my greatest teacher.

Jeanne goes on to say:

Remember, it was your own spirit that urged recapitulation upon you and this is what I speak of when I say that your spirits know how to guide you through life. Your spirits know what you personally must encounter in order to evolve. Your spirits know the challenges that will present you with the means of going beyond suffering as you go through your personal struggles. And yes, you must suffer until you no longer need to.

It is only then that you will understand the point of life—yours personally—including the point of suffering and the point of spiritual evolution. Until then it will all remain a confusing concept, a great mystery; as it should.

If you find yourself caught in the endless cycle of thought regarding life—constantly asking what’s the point or why must I suffer?—you will not evolve. The question itself will keep you attached to the queries of the mind, attached to the idea of suffering and the endlessness of pointless life. Why stay there when you don’t have to? In fact, the first point of life is to fully understand life through your own experiences, and then, through your own experiences, to expand the mind to fully understand mindlessness; the concept of mind without attachment, without grasping, to fully experience open mind without fear.

The job of suffering is to aid you in ridding yourselves of fears so that your dying process—in the many forms of dying that happen everyday, in the death of old ideas and concepts of self and others, for instance—may lead you to greater awareness. Life is not relegated to life on earth alone. That is what your spirit strives to teach you every day. Even your suffering is not really of earthly experiences, but far exceeds your present moment, your present self, and your present situation. Your suffering takes you on journeys far beyond self and the mundane world.

Is not most of your suffering inside you? Where is your suffering really in the world around you? You will find that the world does not deliver your suffering, but merely reflects your inner process, long ago planted inside you. Your inner fears are mirrored all around you. Life is a hall of mirrors. So where is reality? Once you discover that reality is inside you and that you have total control over it, the point of everything else will be revealed.

Work on freeing the self from the hall of mirrors. Face the fear that sends you looking for escape from the endless hall of mirrors. Look at it closely. Realize it is buried inside you, presented in this life but even more deeply embedded from past lives. You will indeed discover that the fears you carry have been carried much longer than you suspect. You carry your life lessons always within. Until you resolve them they will continue to haunt you, reflected in life.

So, what’s the point of suffering? What’s the point of life? The real point is to answer those questions for yourself. What do you think the point is? And believe me, there is indeed a point that will be revealed and the sooner you find out the better you will feel about it, about life, about the self, and about your role in infinity, because that is the ultimate point: you all have a role in infinity, in far greater life than you can now envision. But I can’t really tell you more than that. It’s your journey to figure out, to experience every day that you live upon that earth as you experience that wheel of suffering.

Keep learning about the self. Trust your life’s unfolding and your spirit to guide you on your journey, they know where you must go and why. Solve the riddle of self first, then other riddles will naturally be resolved.

Seek openness, freedom, and fearlessness by facing all the challenges of the self in a deep inner process of not only shedding old life but in seeking new life, a new life full of energy and curiosity. In letting go, in learning what it means to let go of suffering by suffering, you will eventually get the point of it all.

May patience, compassion, and fearlessness be with you.

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: Crossing the Bryant Park Bridge

February 17, 2012 Chuck Leave a comment

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 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.

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.

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

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Reflecting On Lessons Learned

February 15, 2012 Jan Leave a comment

Photo by Chuck — 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.

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.

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

Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: Here Comes The Judge

February 10, 2012 Chuck Leave a comment

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.

Art And Photo by Jan — 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.

Riverwalker Press