New Awareness

Monday, 5/27/09

I had a realization today.
In the car on my way to the city.
I don't recall what triggered this succession of thoughts. But they are important and I will try to recreate them here.

There are several experiences that came together like a mosaic, to allow me to arrive at this new realization.


The first one was the news that one of my German clients had died. Rose had still been young, in her thirties, mother of a small child and she was suffering from a recurring form of colon cancer. When she came to me a year and a half ago, the medical world had told her that she should put her things into order, because there was nothing much they could do for her. Yet she had felt this surge of conviction that she could make it through this third bout of cancer. I had only been able to work with her twice, in between I had been wondering whether I should have given her firmer assignments, whether I should have been more demanding in her using the Journeywork more often during the months while I could not be in Germany. Would it have made a difference? Who knows.

I was convinced, because I knew by example, that it was possible for one Journey to turn around any health situation - IF it hit the target. And over the years I had been waiting for an opportunity to "show off" with such a case of my own. Humbly and a little embarrassed I have to admit this now: I was looking to show off - with the best intention of course, because I believed that if I had only one spectacular case under my belt of somebody who got healed when there had been no hope, or of some condition that got turned around when nothing else had helped, that that would finally start to spread the word faster and farther than I had been able to on my own.

So, somewhat unconsciously, what I had been looking for was a situation with some public attention to show the power of the effect of the Journey, I was really still trying to demonstrate the power of healing, by delivering an undeniable proof of the result of doing this work. And the result to me was health returned, an illness conquered, a condition relieved. And while I did have lots of "smaller" successes in that way, I was never led to a situation where I had been able deliver the Journey as the cause for a major impressive victory. Victory. That was what success looked like to me. So in a way I had failed with Rose, even though the Journey brought her something she valued, though it may have even extended her life. I had failed too with William Ward, even though I only saw him once and rather briefly because he was already pretty weak. I had failed even with Alex Ballinger, because I hadn't been persistent enough to get in touch with her, and so I hadn't succeeded in at least creating a chance for myself to help her. Not all of that was there as a conscious thought in my head, but the taste of that feeling was present when I thought about Rose as I was driving down the Taconic Parkway.

And yesterday...yesterday I had gotten a letter from another client in Germany who I have worked with three times over the past years. She wrote that she had been diagnosed with tumors in her lymph tissue. That she wanted to work with me on this issue and was looking forward to seeing me again. She had decided against a medical path and, yes, she was scared. Translucent light green clouds of budding trees were streaming by outside my car window, as I remembered what I responded to her. It is a response I would not have given in the past. I wrote back saying that my first suggestion would be to examine if it really has to be an either or decision, if it might not be possible to include mainstream medicine in her healing process. That more than anything I believed this was about listening to her body, to ask her body who and where she could feel safe with, and if there were difficult decisions to be made she could imagine an image of each of the possible decisions and then merge each one of them into her body and check what that felt like.

Listening to our body. I had in fact just reminded Jimmy of that two days ago. He is down in Florida again for the big air show "Sun and Fun" - working really hard, running around on the airstrip during the day, sun beating down on the crowds, making connections and lining up photo shoots and then getting up at 6 every day to be in the air with the soft morning light, and often again in the evening. After a couple of days he is worn out, his voice so tired at night... but he wants to take every opportunity to schedule more work, and be able to deliver the written stories right away to the magazine too. So I had to remind him to stop. To say NO. To listen to his body. To not wear himself out... for what? To take a nap when his body is calling out like this. Wasn't that what we both had learned during the past months? Sure enough, yesterday he gave in and slept 4 hours straight in the middle of the day. Thank God!

Listening to our body. Maybe that was a major ability I needed to teach my clients from now on? Just as important as doing the Journey itself? It was, wasn't it? That's how I had learned what I needed to learn on my healing path. That's how I had made many of the major decisions.

Listening to our body and being open to discovering something new. Yes. That was the other big thing hat had happened. In the beginning I thought I knew where this path was going to lead me. I had expected to heal my body with the Journey and maybe other natural healing tools and to deliver my own proof of the power of this work. And then I had to experience that that's not what it was about. Had the Journey healed my body? No. But had it been the tool to help me understand what this passage was really about? Yes! And... had my body healed in the end? Yes, absolutely.

Discovering something new. Yes, that was the second piece. And this too should be an essential part of everybody's healing process. It makes sense doesn't it? After all if what we know and do and believe and understand so far contained the ingredients to help our body heal, it would have done that already. Just as Brandon discovered something totally new when she found the Journey, we too need to expect that there is something different out there for us to integrate into our lives, something we had not known before, not in it's fullness.

Our body is nothing but the messenger. Our illness is nothing but the doorbell ringing to let this messenger talk to us.

The is somewhat how the new awareness arrived in my thinking consciousness. And by the time I was crossing the bridge over the Croton Reservoir, the rosy sunset sky reflecting like liquid gold in the still water, filling the air like a soft haze that made you want to stop and touch it... this realization was there with utter clarity:

"As a healer I am not here to help your body heal. That can not be our primary goal. It is not our job to conquer your illness either.

Rather I am here to help you welcome this messenger and find out what your body and your life is trying to tell you. Your illness or your physical condition is not here trying to defeat you, it is not an error or a failure that it has arrived in your life; on the contrary it is here to help you discover something you have not be able to notice on your own, a different way of seeing, of understanding and living life. The success of any interaction between us therefore is not that the illness will disappear, but that you will reach an expanded, liberated and truer way of living your life. And most likely your body repairs itself or lets itself be repaired in the process."



Friday, 4/24/09

Oh, it is a glorious spring day outside. The kitchen door is open, the warm air is entering the house. The crocuses are long gone, the daffodils are past their peak and the tulips are starting to show the first hints of color in their green budding blossoms. The grass soon will need cutting. Bird voices float through the air again, everywhere. The trees are still bare and so the house is bright with sunlight, like at no other time of year.

I have slowly, bit by bit, raked and picked more leaves off the flowerbeds. I have done this almost leisurely, without any deadline pressure, stopped before finishing all of it and might not ever do more this year, liking that.

Amongst all this reawakening of life it feels odd to talk about death.

Last weekend I went to a funeral on Shelter Island. "Dad", as I would still call him in my mind, had passed away, 4 days after my surgery. I only was his daughter for 11 months, 32 years ago, when I stayed as an exchange student with him, his wife and four children. I hadn't know he was so ill. I hadn't even seen him in probably 10 or 12 years. I wasn't so close to him, and yet there was a sadness, yet I shed some heavy tears when I saw my brother and sisters speak about him from the pulpit in that little presbyterian Church. Life gone. Irreversibly. That day too, had been beautiful and sunny.


Three days ago my mother told me she believes she would not live that much longer. How she arrived at this conviction is a bigger story, and may be told another time. She is very certain about this. It didn't shock me to hear her say that, because I didn't believe her, it really just didn't feel right, as if this was clearly an error. Maybe I am too attached to her being around, even as far away as she is in Hamburg, that I could feel this out with enough neutrality to get a more accurate sense of the truth? Possible. But then she has given false alarm before. Why not again now? I sat with it for a while.

Yesterday I returned after a long break to my Buddhist study and meditation group. Lilia is standing by the stove stirring up some tea to make her delicious chai from scratch. She puts a book in my hand and says: I've been studying this with Susan, will you read to me while I finish making the chai? She opens up the chapter they are in: "Preparing for death, the Bardo stages of dying". (!...) Some synchronicity.
After reading I mention this coincidence. Lilia thinks I need to go to Bardor Tulku Rinpoche, after all he wrote this book that landed in my hands today, and ask him to pray, once it happens. To ensure her soul gets the ultimate highest opening and guidance for this transition onto the highest possible rebirth. Actually to have him pray for a long and healthy life first, but to be ready, just in case. It so happens there is an anniversary celebration tomorrow in Red Hook for the new monastery he is building. Wow. Everything she says kind of makes sense. Is that really what I want to do though? I don't get a clear answer from within one way or the other. Not for a whole day. Mami too doesn't really care whether I put this bid in for her or not, as long as it works for me.

Finally today I called the number on the pamphlet. A Tibetan monk answers and happily agrees to everything I ask for, until I realize he doesn't really understand at all what I am talking about. He gives me another number, but no one is there. I could just go and see what happens.

This morning Mami sounded so well on the phone, her voice so clear and strong. Her cough is almost gone, her strength has returned so much faster than she would have thought possible, she too has been in her garden, working alongside the rising juices of spring, surprised at how much she got done. Her conviction though remains unchanged. She thinks she might not make it through the summer. Not into the winter anyway. My siblings have no idea about any of it. Not yet.

I am surprised how calm I am. I think about it and talk to her without any inner drama. It feels curiously non-uncomfortable. Maybe because I can't really imagine it will happen so soon? But then I have considered she may be right...

The Buddhists really think of death as nothing but a passage into the next life. One we have made soo often since the beginning of time. They say if all the bodies we have ever lived in were all piled up, it would make a mountain taller than the highest one on earth. I do find that hard to imagine. And also: If we only remembered all that, death would seem like nothing more than going to sleep at night, when you know you'll wake up the next day. That of course makes total sense.





Saturday 4/25/09

I decided I would go to Redhook even without an interview lined up. I wrote a short letter making my request, printed out a picture of my parents, and wrote out a 60 dollar donation check. I surely would be able to give this to someone there.

When I arrive, nicely early by 30 minutes, in order to get one of the good seats right in front near the Rinpoche, I am greeted by two monks in the driveway. The house is small, and overlooks the empty building shell, shining through a stand of elm trees, that will become the monastery. Behind it rise the blue outlines of the Catskill mountains. Curiously there are no seats to reserve in the living room, people just wander about somewhat aimlessly, so I sit down outside on the entrance steps to call Jimmy. People are coming in in bigger droves now. A couple is taking off their shoes next to me. The young monk who had greeted me in the driveway starts chatting with them, and suddenly I hear him say: "There was a woman who wanted to have an interview, I hope she can get here early enough." What did he just...?... oh my God, that must be me!! I turn around, smile at him with utter surprise and jump up. Wow. He smiles too, happy. I am literally flabbergasted."Oh, that was you I talked to yesterday?! I though you hadn't understood me! I can see the Rinpoche?" He nods more smiles: "Yes, yes, please. Please follow."

And that's how life took care of me, not letting me miss my appointment. Well done.

On my way to his private chamber, I incidentally saw that the meditation room was upstairs, and did have cushions set up, so I was able to reserve a seat after all.

The Rinpoche shook my hand with kind eyes, nodded with a little smile upon hearing Lilia's name, listened to my little story, nodded knowingly, took Mami's picture, yes, of course he will pray, slipped it into a shelf right next to him, then my letter and the donation envelope too... and then I was done.

Afterward, on my way back over to our schools senior project presentations, with ample amounts of blessed and lovingly cooked food in my belly, and memories of several friendly and interested conversations with new people I met, I wondered whether this Buddhist community might be one of the "other", "bigger" groups I would get connected to. Maybe that was the real purpose leading me there today? Who knows.