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..the dance between evolution and equilibrium..

Monday, November 7th, 2011

 

The Certainty of Globalisation and the Science of Dynamic Equilibrium
or…the dance between evolution and equilibrium.

 

The often over used word, equilibrium, is defined by the American Heritage Dictionary as “any condition in which all acting influences are cancelled by others resulting in a stable, balanced, or unchanging system.”

Equilibrium is not inactivity, but rather dynamic balance. The balance can be in the domains of physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. Life is filled with fluctuations towards and away from equilibrium.

Nature exhibits an intrinsic drive towards equilibrium. The front door of your home is opened in mid winter and cold air rushes into the warm interior. Very quickly though, the imbalance disappears and the air temperature throughout the room stabilises. It has never been observed that one side of the room gets colder while the other side gets hotter, for no apparent reason. Just as gas molecules in a small container disperse throughout a larger container in ways that give each gas molecule equal space. You will not find gas molecules gathering in one corner of a container.

Greater forces overpower smaller forces. A too heavy object sitting on a too weakly constructed shelf will eventually fall through, and may come to rest on the floor, if the floor is strong enough. At the atomic level, the constant move to equilibrium continues, even when the overt appearance is of an object at rest.

Nature seeks equilibrium spontaneously, as nature is always most efficient and economical.

So, what has all of this to do with globlisation?

For most of the history of humanity we have lived as nation states, pockets of humanity, similar to the gas molecules in a small glass jar. Within our own ‘jar’ we have found our dynamic equilibrium. However, we have also been pulled by evolutions arrow in a constant quest to evolve.

This is the dance between equilibrium and evolution, and it has gone on for all of life as we know it, and will continue, long after you are I are dust.

Over the last 50 plus years, as borders have become more fluid, and systems such as money, trade, and energy have become less border dependent, our ‘jar’ has become bigger.

As I wrote in the article, Eventually we all pay, when I lose my manufacturing job in a wealthy nation state to cheaper labor in a developing country, I may suffer loss while someone else gets pulled out of poverty.

The world is in the middle of a significant process of dynamic equilibrium. We have one part of the room(world) that is cold, and another that is hot. This is not a permanent situation. Indeed we have been through many of these movements to dynamic equilibrium already, and will continue, probably at an accelerated rate, as Universe evolves. The big difference now is that for the first time we are dealing with the whole world, and not just little communities.

Our ‘jar’ full of gasses is indeed the world. Pollution in China affects the fisherman in Tuvalu. Low wages over ‘there’, mean someone loses over ‘here’. It is how things go when  dynamic equilibrium is in process. At some point, in the near future, world wide wages will balance out. There will be no ‘cheap’ wages to be found, which will require a different model than the one we have.

Then there will be other areas/factors that will fall out of equilibrium. Because this is the way nature works, especially when man gets his hands on things without being mindful of the precessional effects. This constant dance.. evolution.. equilibrium.. evolution.. equilibrium….

We are losing species, but while species die, (and possibly humans too), other species flourish. The earth and nature will do just fine in the whole…equilibrium will find its space, in the end. Until another evolutionary event comes along…and then the dance will resume.

The point is that we have to start seeing the world as a whole. We can no longer afford the luxury or indulgence of living in our little glass ‘jar’. And in this whole view, we need to recognise that we are in the process of finding equilibrium within globalisation. Don’t get too comfortable though, because evolutions arrow will find a new target.

Globalisation is in process, whether we like it or not. The real questions lie in how wisely we can support the process of dynamic equilibrium at all levels, physically, emotionally, spiritually, and intellectually.

Let me know your thoughts….

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Eventually we all pay

Monday, October 31st, 2011

Here in Australia we just had Qantas shut down for nearly 2 days, stranding thousands of people around the world. If you scratch below the surface of this action and zero in on the source of why the executive team decided to do this, it reveals the cost of a world in the middle of a transition to globalisation.

Complexity can never be looked at through a simple lens. As Bucky Fuller said, we have to start with the whole (synergy). Sure, if I were a passenger stranded in some place, with a limited time to get to a very important event, or to start my holiday that I have saved for for years, I would be seriously pissed off. And if I were a worker, imminently facing the loss of my job to cheaper labour overseas, I would be frightened.

But we simply cannot point a finger of blame while at the same time enjoying the fruits of the cost of this. Globalisation means jobs are off-shored. I get to buy my electronic gizzmo’s for a much cheaper price. Lovely. I get cheaper travel with airlines that have cheaper labour. Lovely. But at what price? And when do I ask that question? As I am paying for my next exciting techno gadget? Or when my whole livelihood is threatened? For as surely as my job may be under threat, somewhere in the world other families are celebrating their success in getting the very job we have lost. Just as blue green algae is celebrating a world with more CO2.

I am actually a fan of globalisation. It is a tide coming in that has its own momentum. To try to fight it is futile. Same as trying to fight the advent of the car. Sucks if you made your livelihood from horse buggies. (I do think we could transition to globalisation in a much smarter way than we are doing it now, by the way.)

The incident with Qantas is just another little signal in a sea of signals that change is moving faster and faster. The ability to adapt to change is ever increasingly becoming a skill of high value. Do you have this skill? Or are you the one resisting, being dragged kicking and screaming?

We cannot rape the earth of its millions-of-years-to-develop oil and gas, and not expect to pay. We cannot reach 7 billion people on the planet and not expect to pay. We cannot live lifestyles of obscene waste and not expect to pay. We cannot buy our clothes and toys cheaply from China and India and not expect to pay.

The question is, when will we pay? Or who will pay, and when? Qantas is a signal that its current workers are being asked to pay now. Today, or, in a few months or short years…they will still pay. No matter when, they will pay and they will not like it. Our dislike of things like a carbon tax is just about our reluctance to pay now. For somewhere down the track, soon, someone will pay. Will it be us, or our kids? Or both?

The tab will be tallied. This is unavoidable. Who pays and when, this we are bickering about. But make no mistake, it is simply a delusional delay.

Until we start to incorporate a different accounting methodology (integral accounting) that takes into consideration the all-in-cost of what we do, we are living in the delusion that we can get away with our many years of blindness, or sheer willful ignorance.

Part of globalisation at the spiritual level (now manifesting at the physical level) is the ever dawning realisation that we are all one.  Truly I cannot do anything in my little isolated world and not deny the consequences. We no longer have that luxury. The people in the Maldives are paying for us now. As are the people in Tuvalu, and Bangladesh. The Amazon…the list is long….and painful. Animals…species, extinction…and yes, some of us privileged westerners are starting to pay. The confluence of the GFC and climate change, our health system, over population, all of these things are now showing up in a perfect storm that will effect all of us, even the 1%. In different ways, for sure. But there is no ‘there’ we can run away to. My air is your air. My sea is your sea. A virus is spread in the same air and water…

Getting fit and eating healthy food after years of indulgence hurts, in the short term. Few people enjoy that initial transition. But most people who stick with it, actually discover a vitality they had not even realised they had lost. To choose consciously to pay the all-in-price for everything we do will hurt, big time. Big changes in lifestyle will need to be made. We all know this, at some level, and are seeking to delay the arrival time for as long as we can. I propose that on the other side, when we are living with full consciousness of ‘we are all one’, then we will discover a vitality and humanity that we have long forgotten.

In the current movie, “In Time” there is a quote, repeated several times, that for a few to be immortal, many must die. Will, the character played by Justin Timberlake, has a response. “No one should be immortal if even one person has to die.” Idealistic, sure. But anything less reduces us to the lizards that we have evolved from.

Your thoughts?

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Posted in Change, Conscious Business, Current Affairs, Financial Literacy, Leadership Development, Massive Action, Personal Development, personal sustainability, Positive Deviants | 2 Comments »

Vocational arousal, dancing bubbles of joy

Thursday, October 27th, 2011

When you love your work, you spend your days in a heightened state of arousal. Pretty cool. What’s not to love about that?

The world is filled with people who have brought the system…”do as you are told, go to school, get the required education, get a good job, work for the machine.” Today we are seeing the youth saying… “Hell no. I start my life saddled with massive debt from an education that I was told I needed and now I can’t get a job?”

What is a job? And who would want one long term? A job has no vitality. It is a way to fill your day while you are planning what you really want to do. And often in the planning you become numb, totally swallowed by the machine. And you forget who you are. And what role you have to play that makes your eyes sparkle and your heart sing. So we have cities filled with zombies. The most aroused they get is through very ordinary sex, too much social media, or crap TV, magazines, gossip…

Bucky Fuller did the computer sums and discerned that it is probably cheaper to pay people to stay at home, to not commute, to not produce stuff that adds no real value but consumes earth energy. They then might have a chance to discover where they are vocationally aroused. And we would honour people for doing what was spontaneously arousable within them that adds value to the whole. We would honour those who love to do the caring roles that our current society regards as worthless…like taking care of children, the elderly, the physically challenged. We would not say that they are less value than the guy who gets paid silly money for trading bits on a screen. We would honour men who wanted to be stay home dads, and women who wanted to be stay home mums. We would celebrate the artists and artisans, music makers, poets, the masters and the apprentices. We would measure value by the joy in the eyes of the creative spirit, and the contribution they make to the joy and wellbeing of all.

How to navigate your way back to vocational arousal? Most of us have lost the map. And we have no idea where to begin looking. It is actually an inner journey. More like an archeological dig. Much debris needs to be removed, many things need to be unlearned. Exquisite care needs to be taken. Support of a fabulous guide is helpful. Time needs to be surrendered. Radical truth needs to be confronted and lived in. Views need to be expanded, for most of us are seeing through the lens we have been taught is the only lens. Whole worlds become visible.

Vocational arousal is life. It is the twinkle. The dance and the music.

This, or nothing…

Ah joy

Delicious dancing bubbles of joy

There is no ending

and

no beginning….

Only an eternity

of

light

With deep homage to Barbara Marx Hubbard for coining the term, vocational arousal.

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Running trails, high frequency tuneable sets, a body singing

Tuesday, October 25th, 2011

How to explain to non runners the feeling of running when you hit the high note? A natural high, the body, nature, beauty, freedom, and low level flying.

This passed weekend I participated, for the second year in a row, in The Lamington Classic. This event, now 42 years old, is one of the oldest, if not the oldest trail runs in Australia.

Starting in the beautiful Green Mountains of South East Queensland, O’Reillys resort, day one is a half marathon across very technical (as in tree roots, rocks, mud, switchbacks, undergrowth, overhanging vines) trail, the first part of the Great Walk (a 50 km walk from O’Reillys to Springbrook), to arrive at Binna Burra on the Beechmont Ridge. Day 2, is the return run, this time slightly complicated by more uphills, and some already tired, sore legs. And the occasional hang over from too much cheer post race Saturday.

For 17 years I have been a dedicated runner. Rare are the days that I struggle to get out of bed to run. And in summer in Queensland, with the birds awake before 4 am, and full light by 4.30, getting out of bed to the dawning day is the best way to celebrate life.

The most amazing thing about running, as about most sports, is that you are constantly learning. While I certainly qualify for mastery in running at many levels, its beauty is that it can humble you in an instant. Reduce you to a shadow of your usual confident running self. In a heart beat. It can also surprise the heck out of you, and out of nowhere comes the place where you breath heaven.

Few people who do not run understand the reasons why we runners get so much joy from the experience. Pounding the pavement…day in and out. Year in and out. For everyone the reason why is different, but the themes are close.

Multiple reasons for me…the joy of movement, the opportunity to stay fit and in shape, the ability to eat chocolate cake without guilt, the camaraderie from running with others, the constant and ever increasing atunement to the body, to its conversation with you, the ability to see the world and run; that my body feels like singing when we run together (my body and I, when we really run in partnership), stress and anger release, time in nature, outdoors…all of these reasons and more.

I was explaining to a client that the precessional effects I have gained from running have far exceeded the cost of my commitment. Specifically, I get to tune into my body at a high frequency every day. To be clear, not all runners do this. Many don’t. They are the ones that get injured, fall apart, push too hard, break down. The addiction they have to running exceeds their common sense. Or, to be blunt, they simply don’t listen to their body, because it is speaking to them, as it is to all of us, every minute of every hour of every day.

Any masterful athlete knows that their body is an exquisite instrument, irreplicable… to be honoured, respected and above all, listened to. Our bodies speak constantly. But do we listen? And if so, do we act? Once again we find the battle-field of the ego and the voice of wisdom and truth. Most pay homage to the ego. Humility comes when we honour the wisdom of our bodies truth.

This, as well as our energetic system…informing us constantly…it really is quite amazing. The wisdom that resides in our cells, in our atoms, in our energy field. So strange that we even doubt it! Like a high definition tunable radio set, we can pick up signals of ever finer frequency. The older amongst us learn how to do this, as an art, because we had our systems numbed out when we were children, or were born without the skills. Many children today however, are born with all of their channels wide open. And simply no resources on how to block, protect, discern, and manage the signals. And rarely a parent or health care professional who would even consider that we have gone through a physical and energetic metamorphous that has increased our signal receptor ability to off-the-charts. Our children’s systems cannot cope, and they often get drugged, numbed or locked down. Autism, depression…on the rise…no mistaking the change in the humans ability to receive signals at ever higher frequencies.

As a runner, I have learned, am still learning, to tune in at a level most people don’t. This not only helps me stay fit, it allows me to tune into emotional energies. The field, whether it be Rupert Sheldrake’s morphogenetic field, or the akashic field, or the quantum field. Same field. Acute attention required. The signals are all there, all the time, just like radio signals are always present…they just need the tunable set.

Come Saturday, Day 1 of the Lamington Classic. Relaxed, running with two girl friends, plan to run together. I am by far the most experienced trail runner. I lead. First 7 kms is gradual uphill, so just a steady grind. Then it gets very technical, and downhill. My body has not been feeling sparky the last few weeks when I have run. Like that box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get…so best just to show up and have a go. Not today. I am flying down those trails. I am in love with love, and trails and running and mud, and being deep in a jungle. For a little while I wait for the girls to catch up. But at some point I just go for it. It is too much fun, there is too much rhythm going on. I feel as free as a bird, and happy as a pig in mud. My physical and energetic body showed up today. Yeh baby! And I am in my element. Downhills, trails, technical. Requiring 100% pure focused attention. A single lapse and you are gone. No time to see the view, the trees, or anything but the path in front. This is where it becomes you, your body, your breath, your foot strike, and nothing else…nothing, not a thought, not a thing…no room. I am not good at sitting meditation, but I sure can run. Woohooo…this is life…this is it..right there…hurtling down hills of mud and rocks in the deep jungle.

At some point with about 5 kms to go I get a bit wobbly…low blood sugar…should have had some fuel on board. Have to take it extra carefully. It is the brain that falters before the body, blood sugar to the brain and lapses in concentration. By the time low blood sugar hits the body it is well advanced.

Last few kms and I trip and mildly sprain my ankle. My formula for this, learned over years of running, is to keep running. Have to slow up a bit, but definitely don’t stop. Years of doing this and I never suffer even mild swelling afterwards, when I finally stop. How remarkable is the body?

Home…wonderful feeling…crossing the line…then turn around and go back to meet the girls as they come in.

The afternoon spent with way too much merriment, and then the sleep of someone who has run hard. The kind of sleep people would pay good money for. The sleep of fresh air, outdoors and hard physical exercise.

The next day, just Fiona and I, as Donna went home late in the day of day 1. We grind the hills, pretty much all up hill until the last 7 kms. Then open it up. Yiiipppyyy. Home straight, downhill, the joy of low level flying through the forest. Full focus required, as body is well and truly tired by now. Muscles sore, energy system starting to lag..

Ah the joy. Pushing just a little into the red zone. Not too much. But enough to know you have done a great job.

Cross the line…and we are done.

A hot shower, followed by scones and jam and cream, and a session feeding the magnificent Rosella’s, before we hit the road for home. Birds on my head, my shoulder, my arms, loving their beauty, and that I can be privileged to be so close to such magnificent creatures.

Every ingredient to make a wonderful weekend. Good friends, great running, beautiful country, lots of laughs, excellent sleep, wildlife, mud, nature, beauty, and the joy of downhill trail running.

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Truth at the Speed of Light

Tuesday, October 18th, 2011

“You can’t handle the truth” yelled Col.Jessup forcefully to Lt. Kaffee in the famous court room scene from the great movie, “A Few Good Men.”

Col. Jessup was right. Almost all of us cannot handle the truth. Not the real truth. The whole truth. And so we carefully craft our lives to avoid facing it.

We drug ourselves, over eat, stay extra busy, sleep too much or too little. Lurch from one addiction to another. Because underneath is a truth that we are desperately trying to ignore. Yet, paradoxically, in this truth is our ultimate emancipation. Our deepest integrity.

Truths like….my life is a lie. My relationship is hollow. Our leaders lie, and we say that is OK. Our governments are corrupt and I am doing nothing about it. My child is taking drugs, my partner is having an affair. I have spent my life working at a heartless job because I sold my soul a long time ago out of fear. I have a house full of stuff I don’t really want, or rarely use. I am so afraid to take the step I most want to take because I might fail. Or, even deeper. I am a liar. I am a cheat. I betray myself. I betray.

We are at the stage of human evolution where everything is speeding up. Like it or not. We have transited from the age of matter to the age of energy. The solar age. The age of light.

Our children have developed the capacity to tune into signals and frequencies that we are unable to access. Their receptors are hyper sensitive. They have all the AD’s and other autism’s that seem to be spreading like wildfire.  We have no historical way of supporting them in this. So we resort to drugging them into somnolence. We do not have the language or the tools to deal with the new wiring of the new human. We have no pathways to navigate. There are no leaders who know how to run businesses and governments in this solar age. And besides they are so buried in a system of lies and complicity that there is no distinction between the true and the beautiful. North is lost to them.

We are trying to apply the old pathways to new roads. And what a mess that creates.

If we really had the courage we would be in a constant dialogue with truth. Truth at the speed of light. Available to us 24/7. Tuning into the highest frequency of truth. Silent long enough to listen and hear. Brave enough to act. Wise enough to listen to the truths of others as ours emerges and so build a coherent whole.

There is no plan to this level of truth. It emerges. Whole and intact, in the moment.

But can we handle it? Take a deep breath…your life is calling. Life is calling all of us. Can you hear it?

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On Integrity

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

Integrity…I would have thought that to live in integrity was not that hard a gig. Seems I am wrong. Seems that integrity is the toughest gig in town. Not only that, but that it is rare. It demands of you your best. And more. It demands of you that you say no to a lot of yummy things, and yes to some of the really hard stuff. It comes at a price. Most people don’t pay.

What is integrity? To me it means wholeness. Completeness. I first ‘got’ integrity when I was working with building Bucky Fuller’s models. Take a bunch of toothpicks, and some jelly babies, and build a square. Notice when you do that the square cannot stay upright on its own. It collapses. Yet we have built our maths and architecture around  squares. Now build a triangle. Something feels good about a triangle. But it has no dimensionality. So add one extra point and create a tetrahedron. Bingo…now you have a thing that holds its shape. It has complete integrity. It has an inside and an outside, which means that it is a system. Actually, it is the minimum system in Universe.

A complex system, like a human being, has integrity when it is holding its shape. When it is doing what it was designed to do. When it is complete. Given the changing state of the larger ecosystem in which we find ourselves, to do this requires extreme attention. It means that our intention matches our words, matches our actions, matches the effects our words and actions have. The signal is clear, from source to delivery to destination. There is no dissonance, no misalignment, no fracturing, no distortion. Yep, I did say this integrity thing was hard.

It has to start with source. The source of our signal. What is that? Most of the time we get distracted with the signal itself. Like an amazing light show, the brightness takes our attention away from the source. We have become signal responding creatures, rarely focusing on source. We take a pain killer for a headache, eat too much to hide our guilt or shame, react to things without taking the time to focus on what is really going on. Jump to conclusions, make assumptions. Accumulate yuk because we do not speak up sooner. Or get distracted by the bright shiny object before we really know about from where the bright shiny object came.

How many times have you had the experience of getting riled up, jumped to conclusions, only to find that you were missing a significant piece of the information, and that when you had that information, the view changed so significantly that your reaction was ill conceived? Hmm..let me name 30% of the waste in human productivity spent in this type of conversation. Let me name my own getting trapped in this way too many times. It is a nauseating place to be, and yet for some dark reason, us humans find it attractive. That smelly, icky gossipy place. It always does harm. Subtly or overtly. This is why the conversation for understanding is so important.

How does it feel to be on the receiving end of another person’s neglect of going to the source of your actions? Of jumping to conclusions, making assumptions, blaming or shaming without having the relevant whole? Or of being completely negated and discarded after weeks, months, or years of attention, focus and applied energy being put into something that deeply mattered to you because the other party did not take the time to go to source, to see the whole, to honour your history, your effort, your dedication?

Bucky said that the necessary ingredient of synergy is to start first with the whole. With the Universe. That until we have the complete picture, we have only a partial and therefore incomplete view. Our legal system is supposed to be built around this…innocent until proven guilty. But do we live by this?

Have you ever felt devalued? Discarded as a human of value? I have. Many times. It feels horrible. The question is…how many times have I done this to others? And this is a question I am sitting in now. As someone who has built my brand around integrity, I have known that the price of so doing would be high. That this conscious choice would open me to be held to account at a level most uncomfortable. That I would have to demand of myself the kind of personal reflection rigor that few stomach. That I would have to stand in the heat of others who see me in my shadow. And own it all. All. Yep…this stuff is hard.

So I circle back…..what is the source of your signal? What is the intent you project in the world? And what comes back at you that indicates the truth of the projection? Is it aligned? Where is the dissonance? For this is our feedback. Like it or not.

Do your words really match your intention? Do your actions? Or do you say one thing and do another? How do you cheat on yourself and your own integrity?

And are you really game enough to surround yourself with people who will hold you to your highest expression of integrity, your most magnificent wholeness? These are your true support team. The ones who will not step over anything ever, but will bravely and respectfully point out when you have strayed from your own wholeness. Ideally they will do this from a place of deep care for you. Sometimes they will not. Sometimes it will be the total stranger who will shock you from your own treachery. Hard medicine, but a gift none the less.

Integrity is a tough gig. The toughest. Which is why it is so important.

To declare my current focus in living in integrity, my commitment is to work at going to source before I get into reaction, make judgements or jump to conclusions. To have the whole view rather than work from the partial. I am up to being held to account around this….if you notice me stray.

What is yours? Want to play…?

 

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Posted in Change, Conscious Business, Conscious Communication, Current Affairs, Guinea Pig C-personal category, Leadership Development, Personal Development, Positive Deviants | 3 Comments »

On the question of personal power and surrogacy

Wednesday, August 24th, 2011

In the award winning but chilling movie, No Country for Old Men, there is a scene between the psychopath Anton and a woman called Carla Jean, an innocent bystander. If you have not seen the movie, Anton Chigurh kills people with complete disassociation from humanity. It is his chilling absence of emotion that makes his character so compelling and repulsive. The results are not good for Carla Jean.

Carla Jean Moss: You don’t have to do this.
Anton Chigurh: [smiles] People always say the same thing. 
Carla Jean Moss: What do they say? 
Anton Chigurh: They say, “You don’t have to do this.” 
Carla Jean Moss: You don’t. 
Anton Chigurh: Okay.  [Chigurh flips a coin and covers it with his hand] 
Anton Chigurh: This is the best I can do. Call it. 
Carla Jean Moss: I knowed you was crazy when I saw you sitting there. I knowed exactly what was in store for me.
Anton Chigurh: Call it. 
Carla Jean Moss: No. I ain’t gonna call it. 
Anton Chigurh: Call it. 
Carla Jean Moss: The coin don’t have no say. It’s just you.

What Carla Jean refused to do was to surrogate her power to a coin, or more specifically, to a coin toss. She handed the power right back to Anton, the place where it always rested. The risk she took of course was that it may cost her her life. Literally. But she knew, at some primal level, that to surrogate to the coin, she was in violation of the last remnant of dignity she had left. Her own power. I am not sure I would have had the courage, or the fortitude, to do as she did. Indeed, until recently, I may not have had the wisdom to see how specifically I was handing my power of life and  death to a coin, and not the man behind the toss, who by holding the gun, was the one choosing whether to kill or not.

How many times do we surrogate to a coin, or the government, or to a person we believe has more power than us? The tragedy is that we do with every single day, every single time we handle a coin, or a note, or participate in our system of government. Or when we say to ourselves that someone has more power, more authority, than I.

In my own life I have had to look with exquisite and painful detail at where I have handed my power away. I am quite sure I am not done with this inquiry, as it as deep an inquiry as is to accept full responsibility for my world without any blame.

Today while I was the recipient of an amazing energetic coaching session from the very gifted Emily Gendron, I saw in a beautiful inner visual montage, the light of me, of my source, and how I have diminished that light around some people. Similarly, how I, at times, think my light shines brighter than others. Righteousness. Such a nasty way of being. How good I have been at righteousness. It makes me shudder. I pray for forgiveness from all the people I have inflicted with my righteousness.

In this inner montage, I saw the lights of all beings, shining equally bright. Dancing and interacting with each other. We need the dance, because on our own, while our light shines with equal brightness, but we are incomplete. An orchestra is not made from a single note.

How many times have I given my authority away to another? How many times have I enslaved myself? I listen to people who have signed an agreement to be bullied every day at work. It’s called a paycheck. But they still have the power to choose. No matter how smart and charismatic the ‘authority’, no matter his or her personal power, no matter how big the paycheck. Being bullied, being verbally and emotionally abused, is a choice, that we, the recipient makes. We can choose to walk. The price may be high, rarely as high as Carla Jeans. But at what price is dignity? At what price is being our own source?

Even more scary is to consider, over the course of my life, how many times I may have been the ‘authority.’ The ‘great’ righteous one. Less and less, methinks, but worth really considering.

I have had a pattern of surrogating my power to highly charismatic, highly intelligent men. Of being blinded by the glamour. Spell cast by magicians. Seduced by the offer of something I feel is lacking in me…knowledge, skill, money, fame, success and the illusions of all of this. While I have allowed myself to fall under the spell, I then give away almost every part of myself. My money, my energy, my spirit…trading it all for the possibility of some bejeweled state. The prostitute in full flight. (To be clear, I have not traded my body. I am speaking of the prostitute as an archetype, selling your soul for money.) Oh me, oh my! How weak is my sense of self? How little do I think of my own light? It is time for this pattern to be done in my life.

Fortunately, I have always awoken from the spell in enough time to pull out of the death spiral. And in so doing, break the illusion. But not before considerable damage has been done.

We are all on paths to hold true to our own inner power. Not power over, but the source of our gifts, our spirit, our light. It does not mean that we are perfect, far from it. It means that we can show up in our perfect imperfections and be whole. We all have our seducers, people, and things to which we  surrogate our soul. Like the horcruxes in Harry Potter, we split our soul into parts, leaving it in places, or with people we think have more than we have. And so we walk around the world, fragments of our self, mistakenly thinking that in so doing we will be stronger.

And like Harry Potter, or Carla Jean, to fully heal requires the willingness to clearly choose self respect and dignity, and to stand empowered in the certainty of our own light even in the face of the death of all that is an illusion. I aspire to the courage of these two fictional characters.

Where do you surrogate your power?

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Reconciling the sacred mother archetype

Sunday, August 14th, 2011

 

I never had anything to do with children. I don’t believe I had even held a baby until I held my new born daughter. I have always preferred animals. But my destiny was to become a mother. It so happened that I was married when I fell pregnant while on oral contraceptives. I had been suffering from nausea for about a week when finally I went to the doctor and he said pee in the bottle. Which I did, not believing even then that the test could be positive. It turned blue before my eyes and I burst into tears. Not tears of joy, but of shock.

I never had a picture of me as a mother. It didn’t live in my worldview. Never. Not even for a nanosecond. So the shock was pretty deep.

Yet here I was pregnant. Because there was a possibility the pregnancy was ectopic, I was rushed off that same day for a scan. Nope. Normal pregnancy. Loud and clear. I am not anti abortion, but termination was not an option for me. We talked about it, but as an abstraction, not a seriously considered conversation.

My daughter from the outset taught me that she was in charge of her destiny. She remained in the breech position for the entire time. Her head in the upper right part of my stomach. I tried everything to get her to turn, from standing on my head, to acupuncture. I was attached to a natural birth. I even sacked my obstetrician because he was inclined at 12 weeks, to schedule me for a caesarian. Out of laziness and not for any medical reasons apparent at that time. I found a great obstetrician who was an older country doctor. Thank goodness, because he was happy to consider a trial of labor.

Two weeks before due, and on a very hot and humid Saturday in February, it all started. On her schedule of course. My waters broke, and early labor commenced. The doctor and I decided that the risk of a natural birth with my size and a breech baby was too high, so at 4 minutes to 10 on the 16th February 1991, my daughter was born by C section. She was tiny. Just 5 lbs. And delicate. And present. I am sure I am not the only parent that has looked into their new born child’s eyes and seen the wisdom of ages starting back at them. All knowing, all present, all peaceful. Truly a humbling experience.

We discovered that the reason she had remained breech and in the same position was because my uterus was heart shaped. Literally. It had a septum or panel dividing it into two lobes. My vessel for holding a child in utero was in the shape of a heart. There is a metaphor here worth holding close.

We spent 3 days naming her, because the names we had originally chosen were not who she was. I had all of these strong warrior woman names, and she was the essence of feminine beauty. The naming was very important. There was an alchemy to it that I know more about now than I did then. I did know that the name we chose for her was right. Natalie Newby. No middle name. I was even happy for her to have her fathers name, because it resonated with her spirit. This has proved deeply accurate, as Natalie shares the Maori blood of her father, and just about everything else of his as well, except his height. (He is 6’3, and I am 5’1).

Just as I did not expect to be a mother, I did not expect to spend all but the first two years as a single mum. I don’t recommend it. Its hard work, especially when you are also the main income earner. But it was worth it.

Here is the mystery. The real mystery. I knew, intuitively, how to be a mother. Not instinctively, but from a deep and profound well of knowing. I have observed since that many women do not have direct access to this knowing. But I did. It was effortless.

From the moment she was born I got that she was her own spirit. She had been teaching me from the day she made her presence known. She had her own song, her own expression. It was not mine. Nor was it right for me to try to mold her in my image. The opposite actually. I knew intuitively that my job was one of the most sacred roles in Universe. To be a steward for a child. To hold a space where a child is able to grow into everything that is already encoded within them. To purify the space, to keep my grubby little fingers off.

Family and friends watched me be a mother with incredulous amazement. I too was surprised to the core. I found the tuning in to her needs as easy as breathing. That is not to say I was perfect. Hmm..no…that would not be me. There was a day I remember where I was so close to loosing it, where I looked into the abyss of what is possible when a sleep deprived, angry mother is at her wits end. So close to doing something terrible. Only by the grace of something did I return to sanity and pull back from that very dark abyss.

Now, 20 years later, I have a beautiful young woman for a daughter. We are great friends. We have an amazing close and rich relationship. I knew as the years unfolded that my role  was to change. That finally it would be about me providing a space where she could come to me and speak about anything at all…without fear of shame or humiliation. Anything. At all.

I would be a lesser person without my daughter. In ways I cannot begin to articulate. She opened my heart, and kept it open. I would be an empty shell.

I still do not have any sort of attraction to babies in prams. Nope…none at all. Not interested. I am not interested in being a grandmother, although that is likely to happen. So I have, for a very long time, denied the side of me that is a mother. It has been as if it was an element of me that lived over there. Outside of me. Alien.

For the last 7 months, since January of 2011, I have been working with people to bring to life their deeply held impulse. You know, when you get a hit that cannot be ignored, that you need to do something? The impulse usually drops into us out of the blue. And it is pure.

Then we take it and make it something else. We start to mold it in our image, or in the image that the world says we are supposed to mold it. The form then takes over. It may even take over to reach a place where the impulse and the form do not even look alike. One day we wake up and go…how the hell did I get here? This is nothing like what I felt when I had that original impulse. Both the expression of the impulse and I are miserable.

My role has been to support people to get back to the integrity of the original impulse. To let go of form. I find this easy to do. The form emerges naturally if you let it. And there is a flow and ease to the process that is deeply organic.

Last week, while I was swimming laps, it suddenly occurred to me that this is the archetype of the mother. This is it. This is was I do naturally. This was a big aah moment.

I have the ability to tune into the source code of the impulse, or what is needing to be unique expressed and honoured, and to hold the integrity of that. To stop our ego’s from getting their grubby little fingers all over the purity of the impulse as most of us do.

This is the sacred mother archetype. Or one expression of her. I can do this in my sleep.

Oh my god, I am mother. I always have been. A sacred mother. The chalice, or crucible. The keeper of the integrity of the source code. This is part of me. Who would have thought? I hear Gods laughing. Finally she gets it. Took 20 years, but finally.

What a privilege. For we have some real work to do, those of us who embody the sacred mother. There are many precious babies (literally and metaphorically) that are being incubated and needing the stewarding of a sacred mother. Being keepers of the integrity of the source code impulse is a very significant role. I am deeply honoured to be gifted with this task, as I join with other sacred mothers (male and female) from around the world being called to steward the new. For indeed we have much to do. For too long have we been drinking the kool-aid of seduction, manipulation and surrogacy. It is time to honour integrity of source. And for that, we need the sacred mother to hold the crucible of the impulse with heart, allowing it to manifest uncontaminated.

 

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On a Sunday morning run

Monday, July 11th, 2011

It was freezing. Well freezing for us from the Sunshine state of Queensland. About 6 C (42F). Our homes are built for the heat, so in winter they are often cold, and we do not use heating. Getting out of bed in winter on a cold dark Sunday is hard. But I knew it would be worth it. I couldn’t not get up. I had a hot date with a cold beautiful day.

By the time I got to Surfers Paradise beach, just 7 minutes drive from home, the really deep reds of dawn were gone and the light was stronger. On days like this, when the air is crisp, the sky is cloudless…there is something about the quality of light that is so much sharper than in summer, when a haziness creates blurred visual boundaries. Everything is sharp, and almost hard from the quality of light. Its the difference between a Picasso and a Monet.

There was a guy in a truck who pulled up just after me, with a coffee and a guitar. I wondered how many times he started his Sundays like this. Alone with his guitar on an almost deserted beach as the sun crested the horizon? I didn’t hear him play. I looked for him when I came back from my run, but couldn’t see him. His truck was still there.

I ran north, up through Narrow Neck, and then Main Beach and onto the trails that go to the top of the spit. It is only about a 6 k run to the very end of the spit from down-town Surfers Paradise, but when you are in the grasses and trees of the spit trails, you could be anywhere in the world. It is part of the reason I love living here. From the artifice of Surfers Paradise to the beauty of the spit, all in the same hour of running.

There was a man and his dog, the man of his bike, the dog on a lead. The dog was towing the man for quite a while. Further up, the man set the dog free to run, and sniff, and run, just as the dog liked. I suspect this is a daily ritual. There was a joy coming from the dog that was palpable.

As I run through the tree’s with the rising sun on my right, I experience my own lazer light show. Full light, then dark, again and again, from tree to tree. I am mostly blinded. I think to myself, I get the disco lights but at dawn, on a run, in a forest. How lucky am I.

At the turn around point I stopped and went to the beach so I could simply breath it all in.  A few people where doing yoga in the dawn sun. There were several walkers. It was too cold and too early for the army of walkers who would arrive in the next 30 or so minutes.

I am thinking to myself..how do I capture these thoughts? For this is no ordinary day, in an ordinary Universe. These are no ordinary moments. These people, who I do not know, are no ordinary people. Somehow, all of us, in our own way, have managed to find a door into heaven. And together, but alone, we have shared the most beautiful of beauties. The dawn of a midwinters day, by the beach, on a day that will never come again. These random strangers, each having made the choice to get up from a warm bed in the dark, are part of me. The immensity of all of this, the beauty, the collision of experiences, breaks open my heart.

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Gold Coast Marathon 2011

Monday, July 4th, 2011

I have lost count, but counting is not that important. I am heading to 20 marathons in total, which has included New York (twice), Boston, Chicago, Honolulu, Big Sur, Sydney (pre Olympic, and on the actual Olympic Marathon Course), a marathon at the back of the New Zealand Ironman, and 8 or 9 local Gold Coast marathons. Still to do, Paris, Berlin, London, Comrades (90 k, the biggest ultra Marathon in the world), Great Wall.

I am not a fast runner. I could have been if I had of wanted to do the really hard work to break through to a different level. I chose instead to enjoy my running and not push too hard. Life and work has been where I have focused breaking barriers, running was the equivalent to most people’s couch and TV after a hard day. Instead of couch and TV, I chose very early mornings, daily training, and early to bed. Almost no TV.

My best marathon was the Sydney pre Olympic marathon. I had not done the training, I had decided instead to enjoy the experience. Running across the Sydney Harbour bridge, which was closed to traffic, through Centennial park, and then finally, into the Olympic Stadium, the big screen, my name being called, the crowd cheering. And a PB. Wow! It was an incredible day. I was so relaxed, which seems to be my formula for success.

I entered the Gold Coast Marathon 2011, which was held on July 3rd, on Friday, July 1st. I have done this before, when I ran Honolulu. I just happened to be in town, and thought I might as well. Again no training.

To put this in proper perspective, I have been continuously running for 16 plus years now. And many of my events have been endurance. Marathons or ultra’s. So I have years of running in my legs, and quite a lot of experience. The learning is continuous to this day, and ongoing.

I have not been very motivated with my running this year. Motivated enough to continue to get up at 4.10 am for a 5 am run start 4 times a week. But not motivated to do speed work, tempo work, or long runs over 18 k (11.18 miles). No injuries, body feeling good. No races to train for. Not the big Kokoda Challenge this year (96k, 60 miles), after fours years of participation. The retired runner who runs.

But I like the Gold Coast marathon. Its my local. Its a great event. Over the weekend 25,000 people participate in everything from a junior dash to a 5 k, 10 k, half marathon and marathon. I know the course. I know the people along the way. I know some of the runners.

More than this though, I like the opportunity to get into motion, over several hours, and disappear inside to the simplicity of mind, body and running, and the conversation between self and the immediate now.

I decided earlier in the week, registered on the last day, and did no preparation at all. Except eat something on Sunday morning and drink a sports drink prior to the event. All week I ran as usual, swam on my non running days.

The plan was to enjoy it, finish, and maybe, if I was lucky, to scrape in under 4 hours. This, on a maximum of 60 kms (37 miles) a week, of total training and no run over 18 kms, was a very acceptable time for someone in the second half century of life. I had my headset, money, some gels, a hat, phone (for audio) and my garmin for pace. (a watch to monitor speed, calories, time, etc)

In the first few kilometers, the hardest thing is to not get caught in the adrenaline rush and go out too fast. Slow down, slow down. I had planned to hold about 5.30/km pace, but that was too slow. My body seemed to slot right into the ‘just right’ pace of 5.15 to 5.20. One of my skills, which is a strange skill, is to intuitively know how fast a pace I can run and for how long. It is one of the reasons I have been so good at ultra endurance events. I can pretty much hold the same pace for as long as the run is. 96 km, 42 kms, 70km? 5.15 felt about right. I could hold this for 42 kms. How does my body know this? I have no idea, but I have learnt that when I trust it, and let go of my ego, it is spot on. Hmm…what if it were really true that our bodies do not lie..only our ego bamboozles the messages …we want to hear something else, but below the surface of the ego screaming for attention is the truth. Always.

The hard work in the first 15 kms is to keep the pace in check and not go faster. You pay for it later. Yep…big time. I have paid that price more than once.

One of the great things about the Gold Coast Marathon course is that you get to see the elite runners coming back at about the 12 km mark (18 km for the elites). Even better if you know some of them. You get to see them, yell out, cheer. And if you are quick enough, you also get to see some of the sub 3 hour runners in their last few kilometers.

Went through the half way mark still feeling strong. Had to stop and go to the toilet, which is usual for me, and a bit of a bugger, as you do lose up to 2 minutes. Started consuming gels from the half way. I take them in the version of soft jellies, and hold them in my mouth for a slow release. The only problem with this is your mouth feels like sugar soaked yuk (highly technical term) when you finish, and the cloying stickiness is very nasty. In my alter ego as an athlete, I can spit with the best of them. (And do pretty much anything else that ultradistance athletes do…you have to be there…kind of like an inside joke. I occasionally think about this when I am in my corporate mode, the extreme paradox of my archetypes)

It was hot and in full sun for about 5 kms, between 21 and 26 which was no fun. Happy for the hat, and sunscreen. I did not have my timing chip in the right place on my shoe and it was hurting. Should I stop and retie it? This was a question that occupied my thinking for quite a lot of time, off and on. In the end decided to ‘suck it up princess’ and ignore it. Funny how that works, I can’t remember feeling it for the last 7 k. Maybe because of this, and because I was running slightly differently on that foot, the same foot was cramping. Again, I chose to ignore it, but did make sure that I downed a full cup of sports drink at the next aid station to try to get those electrolytes in. I am someone who sweats, and I lose a lot of salt. My arms were completely crusted in salt when I finished, as would have been my face except for the amount of water I threw over it.

At the 30.5 km mark we run past the finish line. If people pull out, this is where they do it. The temptation to stop is great for many. Must confess I didn’t even think about it. It was great to see one of my training buddies running into the last section before the turn into the finish, his goal to run under 3 hours well and truly achieved. He looked shattered, but I knew that pain would be forgotten in an instant when he crossed the finish line. And this was the guy who two years ago regularly said…’you marathon runners are all crazy.’ I guess hanging out with so many marathon runners has a way of getting under your skin.

There was a tough section somewhere in the last 10 k. I think it must have been around the 32 to 37. When I ran my marathon debut, back in 1995, I was given some very good advise. A marathon doesn’t start until 37 kms. (23 miles). You can be feeling fantastic at 30, and somewhere between 30 and 37 a hole can develop in the bucket. If you are feeling Ok at 37, then even if a hole does develop, there is only 5 k to go, and anyone can do that. I knew with 10 km to go that as long as I didn’t dip under the 6 min kilometer pace I would come in under 4 hours. I also knew that I had a fair bit of wriggle room. There were a few sections where I was getting into the 5.40 to 5.45 range, but not for long.

I was concerned I needed to go to the toilet again (I am prone to runners diarrhea), but I was determined to not give into that. My foot cramping was playing up a bit in the final stages, but again, run it through. Hit the 40 k mark, where the day before on an easy jog I had taken a photo for my Facebook page…with the caption, when I reach this point it will be a heavenly sign. 2 kms to go. Now is the time to dig, and increase my pace. I am not sure I have ever been able to do that at the end of a marathon. I have always gone out too hard, and died too early. Not today. Dig, and dig I did. Back to 5.15 pace.

41 km, one and a bit to go. The crowds screaming. There was a women in front of me in a red top. Pass her. (At this stage the brain function is reduced to lizard. Not much coherent thinking going on..just…lady in red top, pass her. We had been playing cat and mouse for about 5 k. I try not to focus on anyone else until the very last section, run my own race, not get caught up in anyone else’s.) Into the finish straight, which is still about 400m. Lined with crowds of people. Open up, go hard. Catch the big guy with the bald head. Looks like a truck driver. Oh god, I think I put my foot on the throttle a little too soon, stay with it, don’t let up. Keep going, just around the corner. Go hard. There is the finish. Nothing else exists. Cross, throw arms in air, smile…stop…wobble…wobble. Get support, yes I am OK. Bit wobbly, but OK.

 

Yay…3 hours 48 mins. One of my best runs in years. Only 9 minutes off my PB. Qualifies me for Boston, Comrades, and 6 Foot Track. 8th fastest in my age category, 272 female to finish, 1,448 out of 4,549 to finish. Gotta be happy with that.

Happy, I am delighted. Thrilled, over the moon. I’ll lose 2 toenails, but that always happens, otherwise, feel remarkably well. No muscle soreness. Walking quite normally. My average pace, even with toilet stop, was 5 mins 21 per kilometer.

After a shower, a feast of Max Brenner (chocolate dessert, guilt free) with my daughter, a beer and some veggie chips (for the salt, not my usual diet), it was time to hit the couch.

Today, no pain, no soreness, remarkable. My usual morning swim squad indicated muscle fatigue, which was expected. A swim post run is great to roll over muscles, work out the kinks.

Tomorrow, back to running.

People think running a marathon is a big deal. Almost anyone can do it. They can walk it, wheel chair it…blind runners can be guided to do it. Like anything in life, it starts with the decision, and continues with the action that backs the commitment. There will be obstacles, sometimes big ones. This year I was lucky, I had few. Have had had big ones, stress fractures, nausea, vomiting, heat stress, have run through them all and finished, sometimes slowly. The point of a marathon is to finish. You start with that. How fast you do it becomes secondary. Many people confuse the finish time with just finishing. They are so attached to a time that they quit if they are not on target.

A marathon teaches humility. And respect. It is a metaphor of a life journey experienced in a few hours. A marathon demands truth, it will challenge you to face the soft underbelly of your spirit. It is quite beautiful.

Give it a go…why not?

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