Archived here are the blogs I write about inner life and outer life, inner nature and outer nature. Perhaps my writings on life, as I see it and experience it, may offer you some small insight or different perspective as you take your own journey.
With gratitude for all that life teaches me, I share my experiences.
Sometimes the path of Tao is not that clear, but we all have the ability to see it… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
While I take a break from my writing schedule, I offer something from Everyday Tao by Deng Ming-Dao: Ability—“To possess ability is to be self-reliant.”
“Tao is a person walking along a path. No one is carrying that person. There is no vehicle pictured. Following Tao is something each of us must do by ourselves.”
“But the path is difficult. It will test you. Walking in the mountains is hard enough. Rain and snow fall on you. Storms wash away the mountainside. Earthquakes shake the ground. Steepness wears at your legs. In life, the spiritual path is even more difficult. Although everything you want out of life is on that path, there are people who will hinder you and situations that will oppress you.”
“What do you do when life is difficult? You could call for help, but that is not always reliable. Sooner or later, life will catch you with no one around.”
“You might be without food or shelter during a time of natural disaster. You might be alone at a time when help cannot come quickly enough. You may even suffer the tragedy of having all your friends abandon you. That is why those who follow Tao emphasize the importance of having many abilities. If you have the self-reliance that comes with having many skills, you will not lose your equanimity. This cannot be emphasized enough. You cannot truly walk the whole path of Tao until you can cope with any unknown.”
“People say that those who follow Tao are serene, but that serenity is not because of some meditative trancelike state. It comes from the confidence of one who has ability.”
May you all find your way with great ability and always face the unknown with confidence.
Love,
Jan
Our path lies always before us… eagerly awaiting our next step. – Photo by Jan Ketchel
There was never a doubt in my mind that life was a journey. As a young child, I envisioned this journey as a long and meandering path that began somewhere to the left of my vision and traversed to the right, stretching far into the future. There was no beginning that I could ever see and every step forward was a mystery, for I had no idea where I was going. So begins the introduction to my next book, The Edge of the Abyss, Volume 2.
We are all on our own paths. It has never been hard for me to envision the path I myself am on, but it has often been hard to see where I was going, for what reason, and how things would unfold as I took my journey through life. I am able to look back now and see what I could not see as a child, for I had not, at that point, journeyed very far or been in a position to ponder deeper meaning. Now when I look back, I see how everything in my life is strung together, every moment linked, every step leading me on to the next step. Each moment and each step was right, I see that now, though while in the midst of living many of those moments and taking some of those steps I could not have had such a perspective, for when in the turmoil of life clarity is often hard to come by.
Now I get to watch others take their journeys, watch them live through their moments of uncertainty, take their unsure steps, wondering where it will all take them. I watch with awe and with awareness that each one of us on this earth is endowed with all we need to walk the path that lies before us. I have learned to let people go, to bear the tension of watching them stumble, make mistakes, get up again and keep going. When I was young, I could not wait to leave everything behind and begin life anew, in my own way. I remember this when I watch others set out into life, remember how uncertain and frightening it was to leave home and go into the world, but at the same time so thrilling.
We are all responsible for ourselves. Once we grow up, reach a certain age, become adults, it’s up to us to take off into life and make something of ourselves. It’s what life is all about, making a meaningful life for ourselves. Some people have a vision of what that life will look like and others have no idea. Those who know plan accordingly, but those who don’t know are free to roam. Roaming is good too, and many a life has been built upon roaming. I think of the beat generation and my generation that grew up in the 1960s, restless and in touch with something besides the “American Dream.”
I don’t think there is an American Dream anymore, it fell out of popularity a long time ago. Now we are world citizens; we are everyone. How then can we separate ourselves from everyone and pretend that we are something special, that we are more that someone else living on the other side of the world? A lot of what we find interesting these days came from the other side of the world, from ancient sources: yoga and meditation, Buddhism and vegetarianism, the principles of yin and yang, the desire to be spiritually whole. I did not grow up with these things. They met me as I took my journey, intersecting my path, things I picked up along the way that made sense to me, that I saw value in, things that made my life vital and meaningful.
Now I dream my own dreams… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
My path has been deeply challenging at times and spectacularly beautiful at other times. As I look back now, I see it in all of its glory, and I see all of its gory details too. I would not have it otherwise. When I get stuck or depressed these days, I don’t stay there too long. I know that I am the maker of my own life, that I create my own reality. And so, when I’m feeling lost or worried, I remind myself of this. “Create a new reality if you don’t like the one you’re in!” I tell myself, and I find it really isn’t that hard to do. It might be as simple as letting myself feel a different way, allowing myself to be who and how I want to be, giving myself permission to see everything from a totally different perspective.
It’s what I’ve been doing my whole life, creating my own reality, striving to make it as joyous a journey as possible. One step at a time.
The birds are flocking. The season is changing. The nights are colder, the days shorter. We’ve cranked up the pellet stoves, not yet ready to get the wood stove going, but that will happen soon enough, the daily carrying of wood into the house, the cleaning of ashes, the morning fire starts. Gardens yield different rewards now, squashes and kale, hearty swiss chard and root vegetables, the tender greens and basil gone, the tomatoes and cucumbers done. And so we must change too. How we live and how we eat naturally change with the seasons, especially if we choose to live close to the land, mostly within our local environment, dependent upon our own efforts and those of our neighboring farmers.
I watched a flock of blackbirds one day, heard them loudly chattering out in the trees, saw them rise up and soar away into the sky, a crescendo of beating wings and hoarse cries as they took off, a dark cloud sweeping toward southern lands. The next day a flock of grackles passed through, their squawking even louder than the blackbirds. Their wings beating the air was noticeably different too, loudly rustling the leaves of the trees, as they nervously flitted about and stirred the air. Pointing their blue and green iridescent heads to the skies they took off in one loud swoop, as if orchestrated by some invisible conductor they all had access to. I wondered where they were headed.
The leaves on the trees are changing colors now. The ash trees are already bare, the red maples drop their heavy leaves day and night. The sugar maples glow red, orange and gold against the sky. The pool is winterized, the deck furniture being put away, the plants being brought in for the winter. The changing time is here.
Like the leaves, we too must change… Photo by Jan Ketchel
Changing time means we must change too. We must acquiesce to the seasons too. We naturally pull on sweaters and shoes. We use heavier blankets at night. Though we live in a time when we can have anything we want, anytime we want it, there is something not right about that, not in alignment with nature. If we are to lessen our carbon footprints, if we are to be in synch with the changes of life, we must flow with the seasons. They offer us the signal that it’s time for us to change too. If we stay in alignment with nature, with what is happening outside of us, we learn that change is natural. We realize we are not the masters of all that we embrace, but only a small cog in a bigger machine. We are nothing in comparison to nature, the true master of us all.
As we pull inward during the fall and winter, we must go willingly, ready to receive what the coming months will bring. We must acquiesce, but we must be like the squirrels gathering nuts and the birds migrating too. We must not let the seasons of change overwhelm us, but we must flow with them while we also make our own proper preparations. We don’t want to be caught off guard. Imagine it’s suddenly winter and we don’t have a coat, we didn’t buy fuel. If we don’t close our windows it’s a sure sign we aren’t aware of what harshness may come. That would not be smart. We must live in the present. It’s the same thing when we go inward in a psychological sense. As we intend our inner work we must prepare ourselves for what may arise.
As we ask ourselves to change, we must be ready for what will inevitably come. We must gather our tools and resources, our trusty companions and guides as we descend into the self. We must remember that if we seek change, change will come to meet us. Just as the seasons come without our bidding, so will new things come to us as we ask ourselves to move into new life. Without movement on our part nothing new will happen. If the birds did not fly south, they would likely perish, and new life would fail to happen. And so, like the migratory birds, we must be proactive if we are to instigate change for ourselves.
In our efforts to change, as Chuck wrote about in his blog the other day, Mindfulness & Journeying In Healing, we have so many options to support us. Even if we feel that we don’t have control at times, there are still things we can do to anchor ourselves, to provide some comfort and stability in the midst of our turmoil. For there will be turmoil as we change, how could there not be? But we just have to look and listen to what is happening in nature to know that the turmoil of change leads to new life.
Morning sky… a sign that change is constant … – Photo by Jan Ketchel
As the world climate changes, we are all asked to change too. We can all do something to be more in alignment with what it means to change, to be part of the change. Begin on a local level, but go deeper still, into the very center of the self. Become like the trees, losing leaves and shutting down expenditures of energy for deep inner conservation. Like the trees, let change happen within now, so that come spring, new healthy leaves may sprout.
Like the seasons, this changing time is inevitable. Painful as it is to bear the tension of what we humans have done to the earth and to each other, we can each make a difference if we dare to change ourselves.
As we naturally turn inward and prepare for winter, if we take advantage of this natural time to do inner work, we are right in synch with the seasons, with the natural flow of change leading to new life. What better time to plan for the eventual birth of a new self!
When I was a little kid I clearly saw that the ultimate goal of life was death. We were all headed in the same direction, going to the same end. What then was the meaning of life? I’d read the obituaries on the inside front page of the newspaper, studying peoples lives and how they had died, trying to make sense of it all. Then I’d flip to the back inside page and read the comics. Nothing in between was of interest to me. I knew I had to look for answers elsewhere. And so my search for meaning began. Little did I know that I didn’t really have to search at all. The answers were all around me, in the synchronicities of the interconnected universe that we all exist in.
Yesterday, lunchtime arrived. I didn’t really feel hungry, but thought I should probably eat something. I prepared a small lunch. I ate a few bites but still had no appetite. Should I eat now when I have a chance or risk being hungry later when it won’t be appropriate to eat? I was on the fence. I picked up a favorite book, Everyday Tao, looking for guidance. I opened it at random, and received the perfect reading for my situation: Hungry/Full.
Regarding Hunger: “The follower of Tao stays hungry.”
“Those who follow Tao make great achievements if they are so inclined to come out and act in the world. Nevertheless, they always stay hungry, so that they are never complacent. They are always out trying to do better. …those who follow Tao know that hunger is a great motivator.”
“In eating be moderate. Leave a little room in your stomach. Try to stay lean, not for the sake of fashion, but for the sake of health and motivation. The mind grows sluggish on too much rich food and fine wine.”
“However, neither should one become a “hungry ghost,” forever searching the world for something to eat. That is too much the other extreme. Like everything in life, those who follow Tao use moderation, and they use everything they can—even hunger—to further their travels through Tao.”
Regarding Full: “Knowing when one is full: that is wisdom.”
“If you don’t want people to rebel, then stuff their bellies full of food. If you want no wars, then make sure there is enough to eat. When a country is on the brink of ruin, it is because the leaders have taken too much in taxes, conscription, and labor.”
“In a simple life, people eat plain food. They have enough. No one needs to lecture them about balance: nature teaches them. …they learn that for everyone to have enough creates contentment.”
“Eat what is proper. Eat what is right. …avoid excess. Although there are fanatic beliefs about diet, fasting, and ritual, avoid obsession. Eat what is natural. Eat enough, but don’t eat too much. The simple application of that dictum is difficult enough.”
I was fascinated by the response I received—both for myself and as regards the state of our country, reflecting our politics as well as the eating habits and health of the American people—but I really shouldn’t have been. I’ve been experiencing the synchronicities of the universe in alignment with my life for a long time, but nevertheless I get excited all over again every time I encounter the workings of the greater world we live in. Once again, it became clear to me that everything we experience is teaching us to become aware, teaching us how to prepare ourselves to become a part of the greater whole. The meaning of life is becoming part of that whole—one with the Tao—the answer that my chid self so diligently searched for. And one way to experience that is in the synchronicities of life itself.
A bunny in the backyard… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
I woke up during the night. “This is the time I usually hear the owl,” I thought. And then I heard the owl hooting in the woods behind our house. “It’s probably hunting,” I thought. And then I heard a flurry of activity, the flicker of swooping wings, the screeching of an animal. “It got one of the rabbits that live in the backyard,” I thought. “Don’t be sad. Let it go, it’s nature at work.” The tussle lasted but a few moments, then it was quiet again.
Once again, I was fascinated by the synchronicities of the universe. Are my thoughts manifesting these things? I wondered. I think a thought, the universe responds. I know I did not cause anything, but I do know that I am part of the greater whole. When I ask the universe for guidance, I am tuning into the greater whole, aligning with intent, and this is why the answers appear so synchronistically. This is what my child self could not grasp, having little concept of the universe, of the oneness of everything.
My child self could not understand that life and death were of the same energetic configuration, just different manifestations of the greater whole that we all are. Now, having had many experiences of the oneness of all things, I feel myself as part of everything. But even so, I tend to forget when dealing with the mundanities of life. We are all capable of forgetting even the most transformational of experiences when in the throes of life and what it challenges us with. But if we repeatedly bring our attention back to those experiences, back to our awareness of our oneness, we enter a new phase of experience.
If we remember that we too are the universe, we insert ourselves in alignment with synchronicity. Once we are open and receptive, we experience synchronicities everywhere. We hear them. We dream them. We read them. We speak them. We hear them spoken around us, reverberating through the interconnectedness that we all are. When we experience our oneness we are in the Tao. And then life is not so daunting. Nor is death. It all becomes a fascinating experience.
The Tao is everywhere, we are everywhere… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
In the Tao, in alignment with the universe, the mysteries of life—what lies between the obits and the comics—are no longer mysteries. Everything is us, in us, around us. We are interconnected with everything else, everyone else. In energetic alignment we experience our oneness with everything, and the synchronicities come, because we are fully available to receive them.
From the Tao,
Jan
As I write, a squirrel comes knocking at the window, a hickory nut filling its mouth. “Hello Squirrel, I see you are in the Tao, preparing for the winter ahead.” The owl eating the rabbit, the squirrel gathering nuts, they are in alignment with nature. Are we?
Quotes from:Everyday Tao—Living with Balance and Harmony by Deng Ming-Dao, pp.140-141
Tao is everywhere, in everything… – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Tao is circular. Tao is wholeness. Tao is returning always to Tao. But Tao is also instinctual, knowing when to leave the circle, when to step outside the self and interact in the world. Nature is Tao, but nature is sometimes violent, yet it is still Tao. In Tao, in nature, everything returns to balance and harmony after the necessary aggressive deed is done.
To be in the Tao is to learn to flow, but also to be alert. If we were hermits, living in a cave far from others, our daily lives would be quite different from the lives of people living in a busy metropolis. But even so, we would have to remain alert to what was going on around us. We would have to be in harmony with nature. Our existence would be dependent upon and pretty much ruled by our environment, yet we might not have to ever be aggressive in the way that worldly people often have to be aggressive.
Sometimes, Chuck and I have what we call “monastery days.” On such days, we stay calm. We stay in our house, on our property, or perhaps we take a quiet walk around the neighborhood. We eat simply. We meditate, read, and go inward. We stay in the Tao. We use such days to contrast the busyness of life, giving ourselves respite, as we sit at the center of the circle of Tao.
I used to be a runner. Not only did I run for exercise, but I tended to run all the time; up the stairs, down the stairs, to my car, from my car. I’d do everything at a fast pace, trotting along. I had a lot of energy, but I was also running from a lot of stuff back then too. Now I don’t do that as much. Sometimes when we walk, Chuck will put his hand on my arm. I know this means “slow down.” And then I notice that I was going too fast, right out of the Tao of the day, out of the Tao of us.
When I walk alone, I tend to walk faster than we do as a couple, but I know this is okay. When I am alone, I’m in my own Tao and it’s different from the Tao of Chuck and Jan as a couple. But being a couple means being flexible, not being overpowering or overpowered, but finding what works between the opposites, the middle ground—a great opportunity to practice what it means to be in Tao! It can be a struggle, but in the give and take of relationship one learns the lessons of give and take in all relationships, whether they are inner or outer.
Sometimes, as a couple, we are very calm and sometimes we are not. Sometimes, as a solo journeyer, I am very calm too, but I usually try to flow with where I am. I’ve worked hard to be aware of the energy around me, to read it and be in it. As I ask myself to be in the Tao of the day, I go within and check on where I am. I feel my own Tao and try to align it with the outer Tao, try to stay in synch. It can be another challenge, but it’s also another lesson in relationship, relationship to the world, other, and to self. Sometimes it’s appropriate to be in the calm Tao, sometimes it can get you in trouble if the Tao around you is moving at a hearty pace.
We can’t really separate ourselves. Even on our monastery days, Chuck and I know that we might be interrupted. It’s rare that we do not have something outside needing us, but we allow and flow with what comes. Our circle is sacred, but there is compassion and understanding in that circle, there is awareness of other, of world. To be in Tao is to be appropriate at all times.
The Tao of Me Sweater designed by me, knitted by Fanny on her machine, circa 1977 – Photo by Jan Ketchel
Back in my twenties, I had a friend in Sweden who bought a knitting machine. It was a long contraption that she could string four different colors of yarn into and knit with. She made mittens, hats, scarves and sweaters and sold them at various boutiques and outdoor markets. Even though she knitted on a machine—cutting knitting time down to a minimum, considerably upping her production—her goods still had a handmade quality to them. She loved to knit by hand, but she needed to make a living, and so she chose to go outside of her normal world and become a little more commercial. It required an aggressive move on her part, but it worked. She ended up with a very successful business.
We shared a large studio together with five other artists of various skill sets, artisans, performers, and illustrators and painters alike, all of us doing our thing, commercial or otherwise. We existed for several years quite harmoniously in a bustling environment, all of us successful. It was very Tao. The energy of the time, of the people, of the place we inhabited all came together in alignment. But the perfect Tao of that time came to an end. At the same time that I decided to return to America, the lease was up. The landlord wanted the space for himself. Other people in the group had other opportunities coming in, offers to move on too. The knitter became a massage therapist. The signs were there that we could not hold together anymore.
That too is being in the Tao, knowing when it is time to disassemble, time to shift, time to move on, time to move deeper into the circle of self, or deeper into the Tao of the outer world. Tao is knowing when it is time to let go and then following through and actually letting go. Tao is never stagnant.
When we are young, the outer world is our learning environment. We must leave our secure world of family, our dependent childhood and the comforts of the known, and go into the outer Tao. We must experience the wholeness of Tao if we are to become whole ourselves. We must walk hand in hand with others and discover what it means to give and to take, in all the many different situations and relationships that we encounter as we go through life.
Even in our traumatic experiences we are learning something important about life and Tao. If Tao is everything then Tao is sadness, violence, hatred, anger, abuse, pettiness, ignorance, and meanness too. If we are to return to the circle of Tao from which we all come, we must bring our recapitulated, fully assimilated experiences with us, for they are part of our wholeness and they too belong in our Tao of Self. Tao of Self means having no secrets, every part acceptable.
As we go inward, our experiences of having been outward are our greatest guides. If we do not know what we carry in our “inner” world then we will never be in Tao. Likewise, if we do not know the “outer” world and how it works we will never be in Tao either. Our first job is to prepare ourselves for life, secondly to live fully in the Tao of who we are in the world, and thirdly to bring all of our experiences inward, creating a whole self. Then we are ready to sit in the center of the circle of Tao. Then, like the hermit in his cave, our relationship to Tao will be harmonious with nature, because we have fully understood it.
The I Ching offers us guidance in how to live in the Tao…
As we do our inner work and gradually allow ourselves to evolve, we enter into the wholeness of ever-evolving Tao, into the nature of all things in balance but in constant flux as well. If we can learn to be flexible—as Chuck asks me to be whenever he silently puts his hand on my arm, signaling that I am not in “our” Tao—we soon find that it’s easier to be flexible all the time. Tao is flexibility.
Tao is everything, and so we are always in it. But it’s up to each of us to become consciously aware of it, of how we are in relationship to it, to other, to our work, to our dreams. Our dreams are already there, waiting in the circle of Tao for us to find them.
