October 2017 Audio Meditation

I’ve written a number of times about a particular dog I run into in Central Park on many mornings as I walk to my office.  She’s some kind of border collie and finds a great deal of delight in chasing and retrieving a Frisbee her human throws for her each morning.  What she adds to her fun is to capture the attention of certain people who walk amongst trees along a small path near where she plays, and her relentless enthusiasm has caused many of us to risk being late to work to throw the Frisbee for her “just one more time.”

One morning, I walked along a different part of this particular area in the park, up a bit higher, amongst some pine trees, and I was able to watch her discover yet another person she chose to be her playmate for that morning.  It was delightful to watch her enthusiasm when the woman picked up and threw the Frisbee for her.  This dog’s human is always right nearby, but he has also learned that she enjoys including others in her morning ritual of play.

As I walked on across the park, I got to thinking about the many opportunities a day provides to connect with people, animals, plants, critters of every kind.  Read More “710th Week:  Catching Moments to Connect”

This week’s practice invites you to consider something that may be second nature to you, or it may be a new idea that seems way out there. One of the ways I move through the world is with the assumption that everything I encounter is conscious—not in the way I am conscious as a human but in the way that is unique and appropriate for whatever it is that I encounter along the way. I guess that’s another way of saying I believe we live in a conscious universe and that it’s impossible for anything that exists to be outside that consciousness.

I also believe that I am in ongoing and inherent reciprocal relationship with all the life around me, and I wonder if you would be willing to bring that hypothesis into this as-if experiment, as well. My belief is that I affect everything I encounter and that everything I encounter affects me, that it’s impossible not to be in relationship with the consciousness of my world.

At the very least, at the most basic level of biology, everything I encounter is comprised of the same kinds of molecules as those that comprise my body. We share an ecology that arises from the same carbon-based life and, even in that most basic way, we are part of each other.

I am also a believer in collective consciousness so, for me, we share not only our common biology but also our consciousness. (You will know from this that I do not believe that the brain generates consciousness…)

During the process of putting together my breakfast smoothie for tomorrow morning this evening, I suddenly noticed that I had the face of a cat in my face, paws of more than one cat all over the kitchen counters.  I’m pretty strict about cats not being  involved directly in my food preparation, but the person who stays with them when I’m out of town clearly has different rules than I do.

What struck me this evening was the depth of humor I inevitably touch into when the cats (I live with three of them) show up when I don’t expect them.  The minute I realized that I had a cat’s head and paws in my immediate awareness, I noticed that I was spontaneously laughing and snuggling fur.

This got me to thinking about the benefits of cultivating a sense of humor over life’s inevitable glitches and moments of non-traumatic surprise.  So many moments in any given day don’t go how we expect or want them to go.  That doesn’t mean, though, that they can’t be moments of delight or fun.

One of the themes that has woven itself into and through my work for many years now is the importance, and power, of orienting our awareness to the place in us that reveals our core presence. This is a place I’ve written about a number of times. It’s where we discover the ever-present steadiness in us, the place in our wholeness that cannot be disturbed no matter what happens. It’s a reliable and accessible steadiness and is part of our core presence.

The other thing we discover when we settle into our core presence is what I refer to as the “unique energy signature” each and every one of us radiates throughout our body-mind being and out into the world in every moment. It is the “signature” of the presence we bring into the world, and it can be quite helpful to invite ourselves to orient to this aspect of our being. Becoming aware of it offers a way to deepen a sense of grounding and embodied presence, which is a state that stabilizes and supports us no matter what may be happening with, to, or around us.

For this week’s practice in conscious living, I offer the following guided meditation. Please remember that these meditations are offered as a possibility of how you might want to work with this. It’s important that you change whatever doesn’t resonate with you, as we are all “unique energy signatures”, unique expressions of life, and we want to honor our particular way of being in, and moving through, the world.

It’s just about mid-week and I haven’t yet posted a practice for this week, which would usually be posted by Sunday. These times when I draw a complete blank become an invitation to relax and open my awareness to what might unexpectedly drop in. This process reminds me of the practice of “not doing”. Instead, it becomes a practice of “being” and “receiving” rather than figuring out or doing.

Then, this takes me to the importance of intuitive awareness and how our current consensus reality in Western thinking tends to devalue non-rational ways of knowing. For me, non-rational ways of knowing are equally present, if not dominant, in my usual way of moving through the world, so I’d like to share some thoughts and an exercise that offer support for intuitive ways of knowing.

Whenever I find myself with a conundrum, not knowing exactly what to do, I ask for help or input. It’s not important to think about where the information or support comes from. For example, I might ask for help from “cat intelligence” or “plant intelligence” if I have a question about how to help the felines who live with me or the trees that grace my small apartment. What comes to mind are all the varieties of collective consciousness that Rupert Sheldrake talks about in his work with morphic fields—fields of information that species contribute to and draw from all the time.

One of my favorite examples of a morphic field is where Sheldrake talks about small birds in England. Prior to World War II, these birds had a habit of flipping the lids off of milk bottles delivered and left on people’s stoops. The birds were after the cream just under the bottle’s lid. Milk then became rationed and not readily available during the war and several generations of these birds were born and died without having learned to take off the lids of the milk bottles. As soon as deliveries began again after the war, the birds were back, doing what they had always done. Sheldrake says that they are able to do this because of the information field of their species, their morphic field, which contains all the information of every member of the species that has ever lived.