Chuck's Blog

Chuck’s Place: Freedom From The Predator’s Grip

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If we face it squarely, the fate of the world today hinges on the balance of who can raise the most campaign finance funds to better entrance the electorate in its favor. It’s truly a sporting event; the competitive driver dominating America, and consequently the world. How dissociated could this daily dynamic be from the true needs and true reality of the precariousness of the world’s survival? What kind of mentality seeks the brink of destruction to gain the competitive advantage?

We are all in the grip of the predator...

When the shamans say we are completely at the mercy of “the foreign installation,” this is what they are talking about. A world mentality in the grip of a predator. That predator cares only for its own gluttonous appetite. It cares nothing for the true needs of the human animal, the human race, the human planet. All it seeks is more gluttony, more to feed its own insatiable appetite, and we are all collectively and personally held in its grip.

We see this collective reality nanosecond by nanosecond in our rapidly communicating world wide web—a web expressing its own gluttonous desire for more; more speed, more rapid response—far outpacing the human nervous system, compromising our human biological balance. The hunger for more and for new is insatiable. But is it truly human? Where is the human in this? Answer: The human is held in the predator’s grip.

In Carlos Castaneda’s journey in infinity, he encountered a young girl caught in the predator’s grip. His heart went out to her and he gave all of his energy trying to free her. The predator had wisely tricked him, found his weak spot, drained him of his energy, and now held Carlos Castaneda in his grip as well.

Who is that young girl that so captivated Castaneda? She is us, all of us, our human self held in bondage by the predators’ mind, that foreign installation that the shamans speak of. Last week I illustrated this dynamic in Barking Meditation. The predator’s mind is the mind that spins the drama, spins our emotions, and drains our vital energy. We are all prey to the machinations of what the Buddhists call the monkey mind, another name for the foreign installation, that doesn’t give a hoot about our true needs or the true reality of our human animal. It’s no different than the daily world spin we are fed to agitate us, hypnotize us, and funnel our energy and funds in this or that direction.

We are all victims—even Chuck could not avoid the predatory poison ivy! *

How do we defeat this predator? How do we free ourselves? Here are some hints:

1. Mindfulness Meditation. Learn to take awareness away from the predatory mind, refuse its tales of worry and woe. Keep awareness present on now, on the body, on the truth of the heart, on what is truly real.

2. Suspend Judgment. The predatory mind’s greatest hook is judgment: Good or Bad. It structures our lives, our feelings, and our actions around judging ourselves as good, bad, worthy, unworthy, lovable, unlovable, lucky, unlucky, etc., etc. Once the judgments set in, they generate the feelings that stir up our energy, which gets sucked from us throughout the day and throughout our lives.

No judgment! No blame! Only facts and truth matter! Facts and truth generate right action and freedom. Judgment binds us in its sticky web, a web from which we may never escape.

3. We Are All Victims. Accept that we are all, in our true humanness, victims of the predator’s grip. We are all the innocent young girl of Carlos Castaneda’s journey. But let’s learn from Castaneda’s mistake. If we allow ourselves to be consumed by the sadness, despondency, and hopelessness of the little girl in her captive state, we, like Castaneda, will lose all our energy and be rendered helpless victims, caught eternally in the predator’s grip.

4. Use Our Awareness. We must acknowledge the truth of our bondage, but guard our energy to free ourselves. We do have awareness, an awareness that the predator goes after but can’t fully consume. However weakened, however impoverished we become, we must garner our awareness to not attach to the machinations of the mind and all its false apocalypses. Instead, we must use our awareness to calm ourselves in mindfulness and instead engage in Awe: awe of the majesty of pure being. This is a path to freedom.

We must use our awareness to free ourselves from judgment to arrive at truth and right action. We must avoid identifying with the desperation of our captivated selves. We, as beings of awareness, are the beacons of hope, our one advantage over the predator. Let us not squander our energy on self-pity. Identifying with the true pain of the victim is not freeing, it’s draining. Acting on behalf of the truth of our victim state, through a process like recapitulation, is the road to freedom.

Keep Practicing...

In conclusion, mindfulness and suspending judgment are the weapons to truly freeing our innocence. Facing the truth of our bondage, with awareness, and taking action on our own behalf allows us to finally take back our true humanness from the gluttonous grip of the predator.

To free our innocence and reach a state of awe, to finally experience the majesty of pure being, takes practice. Practice often, now and every day. Forgive the self of everything.

Rescue is imminent!

Stalking beyond the predator’s grip,
Chuck

* See also Jan’s recent blog re: poison ivy as mindfulness practice!

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Contemplating A Most Challenging Scenario

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“Death is a twirl; death is a shiny cloud over the horizon; death is me talking to you; death is you and your writing pad; death is nothing. Nothing! It is here, yet it isn’t here at all.” *

What would I do if my parachute didn't open?

I ponder something I read in the local paper recently. A man went skydiving to celebrate a friend’s 50th birthday. Strapped to his instructor, he had never jumped out of an airplane before. They jump and begin the free fall. As the instructor pulls the gear that will release the parachute that will bring them safely to the ground, he is knocked unconscious, struck in the head by part of the gear it is surmised. The chute does not open. The two men, strapped together—the unconscious instructor and the novice—plummet to the ground, the twisted parachute totally useless, while the rest of their party, floating in the air around them, watches helplessly. They both die.

I feel deeply for the families of these men who died, for the rest of their group, devastated by this tragedy, and yet I cannot help but think about death as I contemplate this scenario. As the shamans are fond of saying, we are all beings who are going to die. If I know that I can die at any moment, don’t I want to be prepared, aware at all times that death is constantly stalking me?

I experience the shock of tragedy as I read of these deaths. I feel the pain of facing death in this manner, a most challenging scenario. And yet, I know it is really no different than any other death. In the scenario that I describe, the novice is with an expert and yet suddenly, at a most critical moment, the instructor, the expert, is suddenly unavailable. The expert is unconscious, the novice alert, yet he has no recourse. Death is certain. The novice, left on his own, must face his death. Yet, in the end, I must face that it will be the same for all of us. Whether our death is sudden and violent, whether it is slow and painful, or calm, coming in our sleep, we will all have to face our death alone.

I shift my thoughts to the teachings of the Shamans and the Buddhists, who spend their lives preparing for death. We can elect to spend our lives in avoidance of death, in worry of death, in fear of death, or we can spend our lives in acceptance of and preparation for death, not in a morbid way, but with awareness of its inevitability and its evolutionary potential. This is what the Shamans and Buddhists do. They understand the role of the instructor and the novice, the aware self constantly training the novice self, in waking life, sleeping and dreaming life, at all times learning how to remain aware no matter what scenario they find themselves in. They know that at some point there is always the possibility that the instructor will become unconscious and the awareness of the alert novice must take over and carry them through.

“When one has nothing to lose, one becomes courageous. We are timid only when there is something we can cling to.” **

I wonder. Perhaps these two men had prepared themselves well. Strangers though they were, perhaps they came together that day fully aware that they would die together. The reality is, that’s just what happened, they died together. Did they know? Now I must turn and ask myself: Am I preparing for my death every day, with awareness? Am I doing enough, saying enough, living and dreaming life to the fullest?

If life is indeed illusion, if this world as we perceive it, does not really exist—as the Shamans and the Buddhists, as the metaphysical thinkers, mystics, and quantum physicists alike declare—can I work to free my attachment from it more fully? Can I detach from this world that I live in, while simultaneously fully using it to train my awareness to be alert at all times?

Detachment, as I understand it, is not a negation, dismissal, or refusal to fully live life in this world, but a total living with awareness, keenly aware of the illusion, while taking full advantage of every moment to learn what that really means. Detachment is being curious, open, thoughtful, unafraid of that which is different or makes us uncomfortable, like contemplating death everyday. If death, as don Juan Matus explains to Carlos Castaneda in the quote I use to open this blog today, is nothing but part of the grand illusion, then death is now. As illusion, “it is here, yet it isn’t here at all,” as he states.

Will my parachute open today?

This idea is quite challenging, but if all that we perceive is illusion, then so is death. Death asks us to contemplate the self as nothing more than a novice skydiver, come to take the leap. Life asks the same of us, for we are all spinning and twirling to our deaths all the time. Are we aware of this?

I ask myself: Can I prepare myself to greet the inevitable, so that when I am in the same predicament as the man who dared to skydive, facing my own death, I will remain fully aware that I am leaving one illusion and about to enter another, even as the solid ground of this earth-time illusion comes rushing up from below to meet me with its solidity?

There really is nothing to cling to.

Contemplating the grand illusion I find myself in today,
Jan

*/** Both quotes are from A Separate Reality, as presented in The Wheel of Time, don Juan Matus talking to Carlos Castaneda.

Messages from Jeanne

Readers of Infinity: Transformation Time

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Have no regrets as you move on into new life now, for regrets belong to an old world. Regrets form binds that will hold you fast to places you no longer belong in. Regrets do not belong to the fleet-footed, spirit-driven beings, or in the transitory energy of now, which asks for acceptance of the truths of the self.

Change. We noticed the toad came out from underneath the umbrella stand today where it has lived for months now. Wonder what it means?

This is a time of transformation. Sometimes transformation comes in unusual forms, circumstances and events, planned or unplanned. Real transformation, however, is truth spoken loud enough that you hear it and act on it. It may create chaos in your life, but know that such chaos may be necessary, for chaos carries the energy of change in its debris. In facing the chaos, one learns to discern what is of value and that is what this time of transition asks of all of you who reside upon the planet earth: What is of value to you?

Decide this as you elect to move forward. Whether because you have prepared well, fully in alignment, or whether your transition comes as a surprise, it doesn’t matter. There is something to be learned about the self and then there are lessons and things of value to carry into new life. Decide what is most important and in alignment with the truths so clearly revealed. And then, without regret—but in full awareness, taking full responsibility for every step you take—move into new life.

This energy is good energy. It will take you far if you are ready to meet it. It is new, while the old is old and will remain so without change. All that you have planned for now has the potential to be fulfilled, but really it’s up to you to take it on, in full awareness, fully committed, fully knowing that you are accepting real change and the energy of such change, which, as you know, can be uncomfortable. It’s a new game now and it’s your choice whether you want to play or not. Are you ready?

Work with where you find yourself. Take one step at a time, consciously aware that you are moving forward into new life. Be alert. Be present. Be disciplined and take full responsibility for every decision and action. Remember, it’s your life.

Without regret, fully embrace your journey, knowing that you alone are responsible for all that you encounter. But know also that all that you encounter is necessary and good.

Go in peace. Follow your calm heart. That is all you really need to guide you, so give it the attention it needs. Take time to listen to its inner truths and concerns. Accept the challenges it puts before you, knowing that such times of transition are paramount to growth.

Be thoughtful and kind to the self and others. And pay attention to the outer signs that come to guide you as well. Be alert for the next one. It will come soon.

Thank you to Jeanne and Infinity! As I channeled, I got the distinct sense that change now is inevitable. We are all facing it on some level. What we choose to do with this knowledge is what matters. Sending Love and Good Luck,
Jan

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

Jan's Blog

A Day in a Life: Experiencing Contentment

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Nature, content in the moment...

Wandering through the backyard early in the morning, I pick a handful of blackcaps. Their sweetness on my tongue brings me back to warm spring days gone by, and yet, I do not reminisce with longing, for I am in the moment. I savor this spring day, these luscious berries, this moment. Indeed, I am thankful for all the other times I have tasted these wild fruits from the earth, and it is enough to be here now, today, having this experience. I am content.

Perhaps moments of contentment are fleeting, as thoughts and worries soon intrude, as the world and all that is so wrong returns to awareness, as inner issues arise and grip. And yet, as I walk in the morning dew, I pull myself back to the experience of now. I discipline myself to stay in the moment. What am I experiencing?

I allow my sensations to be fully present. I listen. I hear the calls and songs of many birds. I hear a truck passing on the road below. I hear the rustling of leaves in the trees. I even hear a heavy drop of fruit from the ornamental cherry tree nearby. I am in the moment. I let everything else go, all the busy thoughts and stresses, knowing they won’t change, they will still be there, but fully aware that these moments of sensation, of being alive now, are changing rapidly.

I look around me. I see clouds moving in. I see a blue jay swoop into the catalpa tree. I see a mosquito. I peer into the prickly blackcap bushes, notice the spiky thorns as I pick around them, careful to not get scratched. I notice just how full the bushes are, how many berries ripening on the branches this year. I let my eyes gaze into the yard, taking in what is in sight, the play of shadows and light, letting my eyes and my awareness be in the moment.

I smell the sweetness in the air. The scent of floral and fruit that only comes on days like this, before the field across the road is cut. I smell the new mown grass in the yard, the dew dampened stones beneath my feet, the scent of earth. In this moment I am still. I am fully present, breathing, alive in the moment.

I feel the air against my skin. I feel the quiet of my heart, the stillness of the moment inside and outside as I stand in my environment, aware that I am nothing, just a small part of all of this. Some other creature is watching me, smelling me, hearing me, feeling me. I am content being part of this world at this moment.

“Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall,” writes Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. “Consciousness itself does not hinder living in the present. In fact, it is only to a heightened awareness that the great door to the present opens at all.”

Contentment is being aware. Contentment is being okay with everything the way it is. Contentment is letting go to the energy of the moment, staying in balance, no matter what is going on outside of us or inside. Even while standing in the midst of storm and trial, moments of contentment may be reached. This contentment comes in knowing that this moment too is important, that this moment in life, no matter how difficult, untenable, or frightening, offers something meaningful.

Contentment is staying mindfully present, breathing deeply, aware that this is the moment I am in right now. Can I bear the tension of it? Can I let myself just be in it? Can I let myself discover what it is I must learn right now? Perhaps I learn that I am getting good at remaining calm through a storm, whether an inner or an outer storm. Perhaps I discover that I am not really as attached to things that once held me in their grip, that I am evolving into a different person, contented to be moving on now. Can I let myself move on? Can I be content in knowing that I am changing? Can I let myself change and be okay with it? This too is experiencing contentment.

No matter who I am, where I am, or what I am facing, there are moments of contentment. I must stop, breathe, and accept this moment in my life and be content in what it offers me. I must be truthful with myself, totally honest and open to change. For it is only in accepting change, in myself and others, that I will grow with contentment.

I taste sweet contentment

In this moment, as I lift my hand to my mouth and taste the sweetness of the berries in my hand, I experience peaceful contentment. However, brief, I taste it. Mindful contentment is quiet, calm, connected to the energy of the earth, of the sun, stars, and the moon, because it is the energy of being alive in the moment. In this moment of contentment everything is perfect. And when I experience such perfection, I experience nothingness and then the great doorway to infinity opens and countless moments of calm explode.

I let myself experience infinity by constantly bringing myself back to the moment of now, over and over again throughout the day. Building on my experiences, small stepping-stones at first, I am eventually leaping onto boulders of contentment, calmly accepting everything that comes my way. I stay in balance, knowing that this too is right, this is the moment I am in, and I choose to remain aware of its significance. I am mindful of everything, meditating my way through my daily life, constantly bringing myself back to awareness of the moment.

I am not placid and inactive, but fully engaged. I am proactively present, knowing that what I choose to do or express next is important, aware that what I choose to focus on, think, allow, is important—extremely important. My choices affect everything in my environment. If I stand in my yard and make noise, if I intrude on nature, nature will react to my intrusion. If I elect to be in alignment, in balance with my environment, it will react by being in balance with me. If I base my awareness on being present in this moment, appropriately present, I move through life in mindful contentment.

I decide to let life unfold, accepting it, making my choices based on what comes to me, because I know that I cannot stop life. It intends to live. I make the choice to live as well, to go into the next moment fully present and aware.

Life is always changing. Can I? This is where I experience contentment, in knowing that, yes, I am finally ready to keep changing too, making choices that allow me to grow and change. Life is contentment in action. Live it.

Sending love and contentment,
Jan

Chuck Ketchel, LCSWR