Can you hear that picture?

When you look at something do you hear sounds? No, not the sound made by the particular object like dog: barking. It's kind of like when some people hear certain music they see colors. This is the opposite. If so you have a rare form of synaesthesia, interesting article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7545888.stm

Listening to the otter

I've been attending a great contemplative prayer group at Servanthood House in Asheville. Every Monday through Friday morning, they gather and sit in silence for half an hour and then visit on the porch of the historic home that serves as a center for prayer, healing, and fellowship. Today our convener offered a short reflection on the Mary and Martha story from the New Testament. It's always been a favorite of mine, and I suppose I needed to hear it today.

For those who aren't familiar with the story, Mary and Martha are sisters who are part of Jesus' community of supporters. They host him at their home one evening and Martha gets bent out of shape because she's slaving away in the kitchen while Mary "sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what He was saying". When Martha complains to Jesus, he responds "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her" .

Now how's that for a countercultural approach to our human doing-ness? Jesus never was much for worshipping at the altar of our western notion of "productivity". From what I can tell, he never held a salaried job in the three years documented of his ministry. He'd go up on the mountain to hang out with God for days at a time. Yet his embodiment of Spirit and his message to humanity lives on, shaping our world 2,000 years after his physical body is gone.

I suppose the Mary story resonates since this is a summer of listening for me. Listening for guidance on the next leg of the journey, staying quiet enough to hear the still small voice that sometimes doesn't even use actual words. Today it spoke to me through a carving of an otter placed casually on the altar of the meditation room. Otters have always been a powerful totem for me, representing the sacredness of play and partnership. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kavoAsYkjq4 Like today's visit from the otter, the messages I receive often don't make sense in the left brain way that I'm used to and comfortable with. But when I'm willing, I hear and comprehend in a place beyond the thinking, doing part of me.

Now the big challenge is, will I listen...as in "follow the direction"? Will fear steer me back into strategic planning and compulsive doing to make me feel safe? Hopefully not. But if I do, then is the opportunity to return again to the listening. There is Mary sitting cross-legged at the feet of Jesus. And there is the otter, speaking its playful invitation to come out of the kitchen and do what really matters.

The sound of...silence?

I'm summering in Asheville this July and August...for those who don't know it, recently named one of the happiest places in the U.S by NPR correspondent Jerry Weiner in "Geography of Bliss" http://www.ericweinerbooks.com/content/index.asp. Well, technically he didn't say that, but give a tourism board an inch and there ya go. I say they deserve it. I've met a lot of really happy people here!

In my opinion, it's a title much deserved by this charming jewel nestled in the Appalachians. Surrounded by a moutain range more gentle than majestic, supposedly one of the oldest ranges on the planet, they say the mountains have "grandmother energy". I believe it. Even the air feels gentle, the people are friendly and the eclectic mix of indie folk music, spendy tourists, healers, academics and old southern money give it the feel of all the scraps of grandma's quilt coming together to make a treasure both beautitful and unique.

Until you start to hear the chainsaws. Ah yes, the downside of being discovered, of growth, of progress is that everyone wants a piece of it, literally. Nearby, another condo development is being constructed and the lot is being systemically cleared and prepared for new Ashevillians. That's not a bad thing. Of course we need housing and responsible planning and jobs for the hardworking folks that are building the condos and mcmansions. But it is just downright painful each morning to hear the chipring birds and cicada songs abruptly drowned out by the bulldozer yanking tree stumps their bearings and the growling of mulchers grinding them to so much rubble.

Ok, yes I'm a tree hugger. Literally. My dad has a picture of me trying to wrap my arms around a giant douglas fir in the Olympic National Park. I love being surrounded by them, hearing the breeze blow through the leaves, sitting under them in the shade. And yes, I love a good fire too and appreciate the 2x4's that hold up my roof. But I still lament that we rip them down indiscriminately, without ceremony, without acknowledgement of their place in the ecosystem, their beauty, and their invaluable carbon monoxide transforming contribution to our well-being.

The empty clearcut lot is silent as I pass it now, kind of like a cemetery but without the peace. It looks like battlefield where the bulldozer won. The Ashevillians are fighting to save a hundred year old magnolia tree that graces the town square. http://www.citizen-times.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200880807124 I hope they do it. That victory cheer would be a sound worth listening for...

A corps of listeners

You've probably heard of Storycorps, if you haven't already huddled into one of their community vans to interview your great aunt or the owner of the neighborhood drug store that's been there for 57 years. It's the NPR program solely dedicated to the act of listening to the extra-ordinary stories of ordinary people.

Now they have a cd collection out so you, too, can share in the delight of listening to the folks on your street. I love this title, but couldn't get away with something so earnest on my website, so here it is:

"Listening is An Act of Love"
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=16088311

Consider giving the gift of listening this holiday season--and you don't even have to buy the box set to do it!

earfully yours,
cj

"Shhhh, quiet, please."

When I was little, I loved the library. It was a free and somewhat anonymous escape from chaos and confusion into worlds of imagination and wonder. The smell of old books was dignified and mysterious. And somehow the "shhhh" of the librarian was comforting. She guarded the silence with the fierceness of a Praetorian Guard at the gates of Rome. She knew her job was a sacred task. It took me many years to learn exactly how much so.

Today, I still love the library and frequently walk to the Decatur branch near my home. It doesn't seem as quiet these days. The librarians, no less vigilant in their friendly yet imposing watch, now have much to handle in monitoring cell phones and rebooting internet computers.

This scene is not unlike my mind most days. I frequently call on my inner librarian to quiet the rowdy revelers in my head that don't want to settle down. These self-appointed advisors arenot convinced that we'll be ok if they're off duty. But when it's quiet, the guidance I receive from connecting with self and Spirit is infinitely wiser, more adventurous, more creative, and accurate than anything I can conjure up out of my noisy brain. Probably because it bypasses the brain and comes straight from the heart--which is too polite and kind to raise its voice. So I must request, "shhhh, quiet please". I breathe in and out and listen. Sometimes I ask "what do I need to know?" Sometimes I just enjoy the quiet. The more I do it, the more I hear. And the less fearful I've become.

What's your heart whispering today?

I'm certain I don't know

One of my teachers used to say that biggest obstacle to peace was the human tendency to "lust for certainty". The need to be right, to have a guarantee, to lock down THE answer can get in the way of the good stuff in life, (you know, things like relationships, learning, exploration, growth) which can be decidedly messy and less linear.

The tricky part is that in order to learn you first have to admit you don't know. Oft-quoted Socrates himself admitted it. This can be an understandably uncomfortable position to visit, not to mention to live in. And in this day of polarized positions, we don't get a whole lot of cultural training or support on stretching into the gray area of not knowing. Our whole system is set up to measure, analyze, get answers. We worship at the altar of Opinion and Empirical Knowledge.

In her book "Finding Our Way--Leadership for an Uncertain Time" (2005, Berrett-Koehler), organizational consultant Margaret Wheatley describes listening through uncertainty as a critical tool for modern relationships, both in the workplace and elsewhere:

"If you're willing to be disturbed, I recommend that you begin a conversation with someone who thinks differently than you do. Listen as best you can for what's different, for what surprises you. Try to stop the voice of judgement or opinion. Just listen. At the end of this practice, notice whether you learned anything new. Notice whether you developed a better relationship with the person you just talked with. If you try this with several people, you might find yourself laughing in delight as you realize how many unique ways there are to be human."

So what keeps us from adventuring into the Land of Not Knowing? The Wise Ones say: "Would you rather be right or be happy?" Easy to say, until I sit down to discuss the war with someone...When my pulse is racing, palms sweating, and I can't believe you just said that...it's hard to entertain the option that surrendering my RIGHTness could lead to serenity.

Rumi said "Out beyond ideas of rightdoing and wrongdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there." I've found great comfort and community in learning Nonviolent Communication--it gives me practical tools and strategies for getting to that field.

I'd like to meet you there. Stay tuned...

Listening for Now

My friend Reid loves all things audio. He enjoys sound in all its varieties like other people enjoy a great meal or a piece of art. My pal Pearl is a contemplative person, a camrade in the Resistance Against the Assault of The Media. While she is quietly observing the audio map of a neighborhood evening-- cars parking, birds chirping into nests, and humans clanking dinner dishes, he may be listening to a soundtrack of convention hall cacophony--booming announcements, caffeinated chatter and background Muzac. Yet these two seemingly dissimilar listeners share a powerful common thread: attentiveness to sound brings their experience of the present moment to life. And from what the spiritual masters like Thich Nhat Hanh and Eckhart Tolle say, this is a good thing, so I'm trying to pay attention.

I'm beginning to see (or rather hear) the beauty in tuning in to the sonic snapshots of what's going on around me. Recently I was at the 2-minute car wash, hardly the most meditative of environments. It was a hectic day, and I was feeling rushed and disheveled. Suddenly the clanking of the chain moving the conveyor belt caught my attention. I began to listen --and was pulled into the car wash world around me with a laser-like intensity: the cough of the attendant, the swoosh of water and brushes, keys jangling impatiently while we waited for our vehicles to emerge shiny and clean.

Somehow that quick tune-in lowered my blood pressure, calmed my brain and brought me back to center. Focusing on the sounds around me helped offset the disarray of mind and spirit that, ironically, often feels exacerbated by the relentless stimulus of contemporary urban life. Maybe that's why the NPR Soundclips series is so popular. From clips of antique engines to defective ceiling fans and noisy dryers, the bizarre and mundane are transformed into an audio canvas of storytelling and life.

Could be worth a try. What are you listening to today? Are you here, now? Listen in.