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WHY
WE SHOULD GO ON RETREAT |
WARRIOR
Lily
Nathan
Oil on canvas
September 12, 2001
The day after the attacks in New York and Washington, DC
Dear
Friends,
When I heard what happened yesterday, I was horrified. I'd just
finished this article-- I was fussing about errors, etc. Should
I post it or proofread it a few dozen more times? Was it important
enough? The
horrible events which transpired said,
"POST
IT!" The need to go on retreat has been made a million times
more vivid: we must create a state of peace and harmony if the
planet is to survive. We need to establish spiritual practices
to sustain ourselves in shock and devastation. We must be spiritually
strong to support those who are hurt and grieving, and pick up
the pieces of our society. We must be strong so that the perpetrators
do not succeed.
We
must become Spiritual Warriors, each one of us. I've written the
following introductory words for our Warriors within:
In the article which follows, I talk about recovering from trauma
and abuse. Abusers intend to destroy their victims. That's the
psychological dynamic of abuse: obliterating another human being,
physically or spiritually. The abuser feels BIG when he makes
his victim feel SMALL.
The
people who perpetrated yesterday's crimes want to make us feel
unsafe in our homes, fearful in our skins. They want to cripple
our wills and diminish our souls-- as individuals
and a nation. It's
natural to be in shock now, it's natural to grieve. But if you
give in to this and become permanently cowed, if your foundations
are shaken, THEY HAVE WON.
I
am going to impart a liberating truth to you. This truth may seem
harsh, but it contains the key to triumphing over those who would
steal our peace:
You
will die. I will die. So will everyone we love and cherish. There's
nothing any of us can do to stop it. And it could happen any time.
The
chances of your being killed by a terrorist are infinitesimally
small. In all probability, you and I will be killed by: a stroke,
heart disease, the results of our bad habits such as smoking or
drinking, some other disease, an accident, or urban violence.
In truth, we could be killed by anything, even a steak sandwich.
(A friend of mine ate one: it almost killed her. It was contaminated
by those nasty bacteria you read about.)
Death
lurks everywhere, even in your own cells.
"You
have cancer," my doctor said to me two years ago. I went
through a lot, hearing those words. I realized that my death will
come, and maybe soon. Knowing this, my time on earth became precious.
I started doing what really mattered to me and putting aside the
nonsense. I became truly alive for the first time.
OUR
SENSE OF PHYSICAL IMMORTALITY IS AN ILLUSION. The terrorists'
threat is nothing more than what we face anyway. Our next breath
could be our last-- with or without terrorists.
.
WE SLEEPWALK THROUGH LIFE PRETENDING IT WILL NEVER END
Clay burial figures from China.
Conscious
spiritual existence begins with the realization that life could
end at any time.
We
need to live knowing what we are: possessors of a limitless treasure--
our immortal soul, our connection to the infinite. Nothing can
take that. We need to live the life for which we were created:
a life of glory, love, peace, creativity, awe, gratitude, and
infinite beauty. A life in contact with our Creator. To live that
life, we need spiritual practices, a spiritual community, and
a place to retreat from the world that wants to obscure this basic
truth. The more we experience our soul, our connection to the
Great Mystery, the less terrorists-- or anything-- can perturb
us.
MORE
ABOUT NOT LETTING THE TERRORISTS WIN: can you imagine how diseased
the terrorists' minds must be to hate enough to do what they did?
They live in hell-- their mental state is living hell. If
we hate these people for what they did, our hatred joins theirs.
The world they want to create comes one step closer: Hell on earth.
THEY WIN.
The
only way one person can kill another is to turn him or her into
a concept: a dirty American Imperialist, a capitalist, an infidel,
a heathen, the enemy-- the other. A concept can be killed.
A mental construct can be killed. We need to see others,
and ourselves, not as concepts, but as living human beings with
hearts, souls, families, and networks of loved ones, essentially
like us.
We
need to stop thinking in terms of us vs. them; "My religion's
right; yours is wrong". We need to stop living
and thinking of life as a team sport: "We won, so they
lose. Rah! Rah!" And we must remember, above all, that
not all Muslim people did this. Most Muslims abhor what happened--
to lump the majority in with the fringe can produce great evil.
We can do great evil here and abroad.
A
heart attack can be a wake up call to change one's life and thinking;
so can a disaster like what has befallen us. It's time
to get our inner houses in order. We need to mourn, and love.
We need to pray to the Creator of this beautiful universe to enlighten
and sustain us.
It's
time to go on retreat, even if it's just in your own home for
a few hours.
My
love, blessings and very best wishes on this sad, sad day,
Sandy
Nathan
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WHY
WE SHOULD GO ON RETREAT
September
5, 2001
When
a friend sent me a brochure about a Native American spiritual
retreat called The Gathering, I knew I was going. Not only did
the retreat feature one of my favorite performers, Bill Miller,
they were giving workshops on everything from the Cherokee language
to making fry bread. All this in Tennessee's naturally inspirational
Great Smoky Mountains. Even better, the Gathering was set for
late September, 2001-- I would be on the East coast for a meditation
retreat. It's not too far from New York to Tennessee, is it?
After
a little discussing and arranging, my daughters were going, too!
We planned a spiritual rejuvenation extravaganza: after
an intense meditation program at our Ashram, we'd hang out doing
volunteer work and visiting friends. Later in September, the three
of us would fly to Tennessee for The Gathering.
Major
mother and daughter bonding! Not to mention Spirit! With Bill
Miller and a bunch of new friends! In the Cherokee National Forest!
Wow!
EAST COAST
FOREST
Photo:
Zoe Nathan
Ideas popped
into my head-- something very powerful was nudging me internally.
This something said, "Put up a web page for The Gathering."
I contacted its organizers to see if they wanted one: they did.
I thought, "What a great subject for Spurs Magazine!"
I proposed this to the retreat's organizers: would they like me
to write an article about the Gathering for the Net? Another yes!
My older daughter is such a great photographer that all she has
to do is point her camera and-- bingo! An incredible shot. Would
they like Zoe to photograph the event? Yes, again.
I was so
excited about going to the Gathering!
Notice that
the above paragraphs are in the past tense: would have been...
was...
We won't
be going to the Gathering after all. What happened?
GOOD JOINTS
ARE NOT SUFFICIENTLY APPRECIATED:
HUMAN OR EQUINE!
From the 2001 Fiesta Parade, Santa Barbara, CA
Photo: Zoe Nathan
First off,
I absolutely hate feeling my bones crunch together. It's
not just the physical pain, but the revolting grating sensation,
and the noise. Nauseating! When my knee began crunching
in early August, I knew I wouldn't make it to the Gathering. It
wasn't a surprise: six years ago, my doctor told me that I was
a candidate for a knee replacement. When I went back to see him
two years ago, he wanted to schedule surgery right then. "Before
you start to have real problems.."
You should
have seen me skeedaddle out of his office! If that ol' boy was
going to cut on me, he'd have to catch me first!
He caught
me-- or rather the knee did. It happened here:
LOS CALIFORNIOS:
THESE RIDERS PRESENT A 2001 RENDITION OF THE EARLY EUROPEAN SETTLERS
IN SANTA BARBARA
Photo: Zoe Nathan
We've
lived in the Santa Barbara Area for seven years, and had never
gone to the Fiesta Parade! Santa Barbara's Fiesta Parade is the
largest equestrian parade in the United States, a true spectacle
and part of the City's Old Spanish Days. The four of us Nathans
went to the Parade on August 3rd. We had a blast, staying in town
for the evening festivities, which included a fantastic, Spanish
show. A wonderful day-- except that my knee started crunching.
By evening, I couldn't walk. Not only did my knee give up the
ghost, it took my hip and back with it.
I
wasn't physically able to make the trip East, and I finally realized
it.
Knee replacement
surgery is supposed to be about the most painful you can have.
I've been terrified since I heard I needed it. Strangely, when
I realized that I couldn't put off surgery, I was calm.
I felt like
a giant hand reached into my soul and changed my direction: I
was going to surgery, not Tennessee & New York. I cried about
missing the Gathering & the other planned events-- for maybe
20 minutes. That was it; I went about my business, setting a surgery
date, canceling reservations, and telling my new friends in Tennessee
that I wouldn't be attending.
THESE DANCERS CAME FROM SPAIN TO PERFORM IN OLD SPANISH DAYS
Nothing wrong with their knees!
Photo: Zoe Nathan
Most regrettably, the gorgeous article about The Gathering wouldn't
be written. I thought the whole thing was over. It wasn't: an
inner voice began hounding me,
"Write
it anyway." Write what? "The article on the Gathering.
Write it anyway."
Do
you listen to your inner dialogue? The yamma yamma that goes on
in your head all the time: your mind obsessing about what it thinks
it needs? About slights and omissions? Stuff you have to have
or you'll die? I'm not talking about psychotic dialogue where
a voice tells you that you can fly and you should jump off the
roof: I'm talking about the normal inner dialogue that we all
have.
Over
the years, I have learned that there's one voice in there
worth listening to. Sometimes it talks in words; sometimes, in
strong feelings that I should do something. Always: it's unmistakable.
This voice has a totally different tone than the rest of my inner
yaking. It's clear, certain, non-hysterical, compassionate, and
fearless. Also, it's never wrong: if I do what it says, things
work out. (I know this from ignoring it. The times I get in serious
trouble come from not doing what this inner compass tells me.)
This
thing, this inner entity, has been pushing me since I heard about
the Gathering: first, telling me to go, then to do the web page,
telling me not to go, and finally, goading me to write
this. We battled for weeks: "Write the article!"
"How
can I write an article about something I won't attend?" "You
received enough just getting ready to go to write a whole article.
Just do it!"
"Thank
you very much for your advice. I'm getting ready for surgery.
I need lots of time to be hysterical. We've got this art show
to put together. I'm working on my book-- HOW CAN I POSSIBLY WRITE
AN ARTICLE ABOUT SOMETHING I WON'T ATTEND???"
"WRITE
IT! WRITE IT! WRITE IT! WRITE IT!" When I tried to sleep
at night, the voice would dictate the article to me. First thing
in the morning, more dictation and orders: "Illustrate it
with Zoe's photos! Use Lily's art! Do it!" Finally I gave
up, "Okay. I'll write it. What do you want me to say?"
"I'll
dictate, you write it down." Which is how all my writing
that's any good is done. What came out was:
SEPIA CHIEFTAIN
Lily Nathan
Oil on plywood
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WHY
WE SHOULD GO ON RETREAT
If
you want to know why you should go on a spiritual retreat, consider
the laboratory rat. Lab rats live pretty restricted lives in research
facility cages. Scientists teach them to do all sorts of things:
run a maze and win a prize, trip a lever and win a prize, recognize
a pattern and win a prize. The prizes are usually food-- rats
have a limited reward system. Soon the rat's life is about: do
the task and win a prize. All the other things that rats might
enjoy, such as rummaging through garbage or hanging out with other
rats, disappear. Life collapses into "do the task and win
a prize."
In
some experiments, the rat will keep doing the activity even when
they stop giving the prize.
People
are like rats: we have a physical body and nervous system, and
a tendency to repeat things that once gave us a reward, even when
the reward isn't there. We can become so conditioned by our routines--
go to work, come home, go to this place, or that place, say this,
or that, do this or that. until whatever else might be possible
gets buried in the round of learned behaviors that we think
will make us happy. The cage becomes the whole of our existence.
And
if all you are is a boring, ordinary person limited by normal,
daily routine-- thank your lucky stars!
Some
people have worse afflictions: human beings demonstrate an incredible
ability to become addicted to almost anything! Want addictions?
We got 'em: addictions to physical substances-- legal and illegal
drugs and alcohol-- are the most obvious. We also have the gamut
of behavioral addictions: work, sex, achievement, spending, shopping,
gambling, relationships. You name it, a human being can get addicted
to it.
If
you aren't addicted already, our culture will do it's best to
see that you get that way. Look at TV, magazines, movies, the
Internet: people spend their lives thinking life will be wonderful
if they can just attain the right physical appearance (implanted
or augmented), stuff (car, house, jewelry, art, clothes), address
(90210!), or partner. There's a big one. We have hit TV shows
lauding the endless search for the right physical partner. Not
the best marriage, the most authentic relationship: the guy/gal
who looks right and has the right moves... who gives us the biggest
thrill. For a month or two.
TECOLOTE- "OWL"
Sandra Nathan
Resin/marble casting
We
need to go on retreat to break our behavioral conditioning. Human
beings are both the rat and the scientist: we run the maze, and
monitor our own progress. If we're doing our job properly, we
know when our rat-- our physical being-- needs a break: if we're
healthy enough, we give it one.
But
why a spiritual retreat? Why not just a vacation?
Have
you seen how most people spend their vacations? Doing the same
things they do at home. I've been appalled when vacationing to
see folks spending their precious free time in alcohol or drug
induced stupors. When they're not indulging with substances, many
engage in shopping, eating, or other orgies, including the traditional
type.
The
latest craze is the "adventure vacation", very popular
with high flying dot.com'ers. The adventure vacation is so strenuous
that you have to go into training for a year to survive: a trip
up Everest. Down the Amazon. To the bottom of the ocean: peak
performance or you die. The perfect vacation for the achievement
obsessed.
These "vacations" are extensions of addictions. Addictions
need to be treated-- or at least recognized-- before the rat and
its handler can benefit from a retreat.
What
is a spiritual retreat?
A
retreat is withdrawal from all the normal things we do to keep
ourselves in our cages. On a retreat, we break our daily patterns
and allow something else to emerge: the intangible, unspeakable,
all knowing, all powerful non-thing at the root of reality. The
ground of being. Spirit. Source. Creator. As many names as there
are spiritual aspirants.
We
go on retreat to contact Spirit.
[Usually:
some people go on retreat the same way they live their lives,
"I gotta have a vision by day 2. I wanna hit nirvana by 3.
I should be enlightened, in, oh, a week. Well, maybe two. I'll
shuffle my appointments and give myself an extra week. I'll be
much more effective at work if I'm enlightened. Can I bring my
laptop?"]
We
need to go on retreat to get free from all of the above. To enable
ourselves to experience the great mystery, the higher side of
life, our possibility. Of all the animals on the planet, only
human beings are capable of mystical experience. We need to go
on retreat to allow the possibility of that experience to emerge.
THE LOTUS: THE SYMBOL OF ENLIGHTENMENT
Enlightened beings report that attaining enlightenment may
take more than two weeks intense work. Even if you're really smart
and have an MBA.
I
read a book the other day: Why
God Won't Go Away, by Drs. Andrew Newberg & Eugene
D'Aquili, both Md.'s. This is one of the most stimulating books
I have ever read: I got so excited reading it that I had to go
for a walk to calm down. Why?
Consider
the title: Why
God Won't Go Away. Why should God go away?
Well,
God's been in real trouble for about the last hundred years. Why?
Does
anyone on the planet have to ask why after what's happened in
NYC and Washington? You'd have to be brain damaged not at least
question the existence of a loving God this week. I wrote the
following paragraph before the attacks: I can think
of about six places on the planet right now where people are killing
each other over whose image of God-- or rendition of what God
said-- is correct. Some of these folks have nuclear capabilities:
they could wipe out the planet trying to prove they're right.
And this doesn't take history into consideration. Historically,
I bet more people have been killed in God's name than for anything
else. Some people look at this and say: "I don't know about
God, but human beings are dangerous when they get
religion." Other people look at the above-- and the news,
pick any daily newspaper-- and conclude, "A loving God wouldn't
allow this." And they throw out God.
God
is in trouble for other reasons: psychological, philosophical,
sociological, and economic reasons, as laid out by smart guys
like Neitzsche, Freud, Marx, and Kant. Big hitters in the history
of thought. I've covered what these guys have to say about God
elsewhere on this web site: Inspiration
The link should take you to a discussion of modern philosophical
issues that blew my mind when I was a kid.
Okay,
so the traditional notion of God has been under attack for very
valid reasons for a long time. Why should Drs. Newberg & D'Aquili,
very bright and educated guys, write a book entitled Why
God Won't Go Away?
Because
despite massive intellectual attacks and vast empirical evidence
that whoever's in charge ought to be fired, God doesn't go away.
People continue to go to worship services all over the world.
They search for meaning in new and often surprising ways. Alternative
religions, trying out religions other than the one you were born
into, renaming God so it doesn't remind you of what was done to
you in God's name by well meaning people who whopped the daylights
out of you as a kid-- this sort of thing is thriving. Spiritual
seeking is on the rise. It's even big business.
Why?
Why doesn't God just go away? Why don't we stop seeking, in light
of the evidence that what we used to worship isn't valid?
That's what Drs. Newberg & D'Aquili wrote about. Their book
presents the results of 25 years of professional study of the
biology of belief. Major finding? The roots of belief lie in our
physical bodies, and specifically, in our brains.
Newberg
& D'Aquili add biological evidence to what many psychologists
have already concluded: for some really great reading, check out
the Ecstasy Resource List, specifically
what you'll find if you click
here. The Ecstasy Resource List
presents ecstatic reading and listening from around the world.
By clicking, you'll come
to a list of writings by major psychologists of religious experience,
transpersonal (roughly, spiritual) psychology, and the higher
realms of human consciousness. These writings also support the
hypothesis that human beings are made for mystical experience,
but without Newberg & D'Aquili's biological evidence.
Why
won't God go away? Because research indicates that the search
for for God is hardwired into the human nervous system. We are
created-- the only animals on the planet-- to search for meaning,
for God, if you will. We are created to have mystical experiences.
We are created to produce rituals and spiritual practices to support
those experiences.
Our
brains are made to search for the unknowable Source.
TRANSCENDENT EXPERIENCE IS HARDWIRED INTO OUR BRAINS
"Ecstatic Hawk", Sandra Nathan, pencil and marker on
paper
Well,
duh. Any saint could have told you that without 25 years of research.
You can read that in the Bible, or any other religious text. True--
but Drs. Newberg & D'Aquili have given us scientific evidence
of what happens to the brain in prayer and meditation. And explain
how the brain is constructed so that we automatically search for
meaning, for explanations of our life experiences. And why we
head for mystical experience the moment we back off our ratlike
pursuits. The good doctors also take into account modern thought:
they have heard of Freud, Neitsche, Kant, etc. Their discussion
acknowledges that, in truth, we cannot be sure that anything exists
outside our own nervous system. And boy-- do they discuss this
one! Wow!
Well,
this is candy for me! This kind of reading is my vacation!
This is good news!
Of
course, God is real to me, despite the headlines and what I see.
The good doctors' findings confirm my experiences and how I organize
my world.
Critics
have lots to say about what's presented in Why
God Won't Go Away. Like: it just shows that our brains
throw up pictures and stories about God and why we exist, not
that they're true.
But
I say, "Hey! If you haven't had a mystical experience, you
don't know what life is!" And-- "If it's only in the
brain, who created the brain?" Where did we get this
giant brain that seeks for meaning? A brain that is made specifically
to take us to the experience of the Great Mystery? Where did that
puppy come from? Or where did anything come from?" I
don't go for the "it was all random selection" routine
for one minute.
That's
why we should go on retreat: to use the equipment we were born
with.
BABA MEDITATING
Lily Nathan
Oil on canvas
Saints
and spiritually developed people already know this. Here is a
poem by my teacher,
Become
aware of God's power
within yourself.
Understand that saintliness
is not a gift that God confers
on only a chosen few.
It is a treasure
that God has placed
within every child of His.
Gurumayi
Chidvilasananda
The Magic of the Heart, p. 75
Stated
slightly differently by a great Christian mystic,
Remember
always that you came here
for no other reason than to be a saint;
thus let nothing reign in your soul that
does not lead you to sanctity.
That's
pretty clear. All we have to do is get rid of the unsaintly
parts. The naughty bits.
Which
is why we must go on retreat.
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FINDING THE WINDOW
Lily Nathan
Charcoal on paper
Only through introspection do we find freedom.
WHAT
HAPPENED WHEN I TRIED TO GO ON RETREAT
I
wanted to stop this essay here, but the voice in my head kept
dictating mercilessly. (Is that the origin of the word "Dictator"?)
My job isn't done yet. Concepts become useful when they are brought
to life with experience. I talk about my experience below, as
I do throughout Spurs, because I am my own personal lab rat.
I know more about the workings of my mental and spiritual innards
than I do about anyone else's. So I have a greater probability
of telling the truth about my own behavior than anyone else's.
I
go on retreat two or three times a year, and have done so for
many years. My life seems to change the instant I decide to go--
there's a quickening, a sense of expectation. It's like finding
myself in a whirlpool; I'm drawn to depths I didn't expect, pulled
by something more powerful than my human will.
DRAGON SLAYING IS SELDOM THIS DRAMATIC
My dragons whither away when I expose them to the light of understanding.
Or just the light, period-- it's impossible to let a negative
pattern run full force if you're conscious of it.
The next time you feel like having a screaming fit, try this:
announce to your family or friends, "I'm really upset. I'm
going to go to my room and have a screaming fit." Then do
it.
It's not any fun, is it? Or if it is-- notice what you get out
of emotional explosions. What's the payoff? Then is it any
fun? The dragons we slay are internal. Let peace prevail.
Much
of what happens once I decide to go on retreat concerns "cleaning
up the unsaintly parts." Basically, exposing and dispatching
ideas, feelings, and situations in my life that keep me small,
bound, enslaved. None of it's fun: if you want to experience a
beautiful home, you gotta pick up your dirty socks. Purification
is the prelude to ecstasy.
Do
you read the Bible? I love the Bible, particularly the Book of
Psalms. Psalm is 19 is one of my favorites, especially a few lines
at the end. The Psalmist says:
"Who
is aware of his unwitting sins?
Cleanse me of any secret fault.
Hold back thy servant also from sins of self-will,
lest they get the better of me.
Then I shall be blameless and innocent of any great transgression."
Psalm
19, 12-13
Such
great guidance: If you follow these simple precepts, you'll avoid
being one of history's major bad guys. Most of what comes up for
me in preparation for retreat is about parts of myself I don't
know exist. But everyone else does...
We may have spiritual flaws as big as cantaloupes sticking out
of our heads, totally visible to anyone who looks at us-- and
WE DO NOT KNOW THEY ARE THERE.
Spiritual
growth is a process of becoming aware of one's secret faults and
unwitting sins. Examining oneself, gently and with love, and then
holding the mess up to God/Creator/Source/Buddha Nature-- however
you hold the divine-- for disposal. It involves very hard personal
work, and a dedicated lifestyle. Given those, grace will come.
In
that spirit, I offer this record of my experience as I prepared
to attend the Gathering in September, 2001.
BILL MILLER WILL PLAY AT
THE GATHERING
Bill is an award winning, internationally acclaimed Native American
musician. The link takes you to his web site.
Initially,
Bill Miller's presence at the Gathering was my sole motivation
for going. I admire him greatly, and looked forward to seeing
him in an intimate setting. I hoped to talk to him, and even interview
him for this magazine.
One
of the great things about going on retreat is that everything
in me that needs correction, jumps out BOLDLY. For instance--
About
the time I signed up for The Gathering, Bill's web site announced
that he had lost gallery representation for his art. "Gee,
that's too bad," thought I. Ways to help Bill came to me:
I am a distant acquaintance of a woman who runs a very good Western
art gallery-- Bill's work would be perfect there. I also know
(from a long time ago) a woman who owns a magazine that features
a painting on every cover. Wouldn't Bill's work be great on a
magazine cover! I made some initial contacts, carefully and appropriately,
since I'm not close to these people-- and talked about doing so
at dinner with my family.
My
younger daughter, Lily, is an artist. She's been longing
for gallery representation. Her lovely eyes pierced mine, "You're
doing that for him, but not for me?"
The
pain in her face struck me like a blow. Something was very wrong
inside me if I was trying to get something for a perfect stranger
instead of my own daughter. This was against anyone's definition
of "family values". I said, "Yes, you're right.
I should be helping you." So I did. Remember this incident.
DREAMTIME CONTINUUM ROCKS OUT
Musicians seem to be particular targets of our adoration.
We love musicians because of how we feel when they play--we
prize the state to which they elevate us. Or lower us, with some
types of music. The Santa Barbara based Dreamtime Continuum is
one of my favorite bands. L to R: Richard Cole on bass guitar,
Jeff Lidke and Homnath Upadhaya on tablas. The link takes you
to my page on Dreamtime.
WHICH
BRINGS US TO THE SUBJECT OF INFATUATION:
If you are a Bill Miller fan, or anyone else's, and want to stay
the way you are in relation to that person, fine. Skip this section.
Go to What's Next.
If
you'd like to stay a fan, but transform your fanship to a more
mature, higher plane, keep reading. I'm not just talking about
Bill Miller here. I'm talking about anyone you/I have a relationship
with-- no matter how one sided-- where the other person seems
grander & more glorious than you. Utterly important. The embodiment
of virtue and everything good in the universe. The light of your
life...
Someone
you think about every day-- often for hours. Whose web site you
visit at every chance, or more often. Whose picture you keep prominently
at home, work, and in your car. Who could solve your problems,
if only you could talk to them for a while, or, better yet, move
in with them.
Whose
house you cruise -- or would like to cruise, if you knew where
it was.
"He
almost makes the day begin..." goes the old song. I'm talking
about those people who make your eyes misty and your knees shake.
This includes entertainers, musicians, teachers, ministers, rabbis,
and meditation masters. Even your therapist.
Be
honest, people. Everyone has felt this way about someone.
MORE DREAMTIME IN CONCERT
The link takes you to their website.
I
was lucky enough to see the Beatles at the Cow Palace in San Francisco
back in the 1960's. The Cow Palace is a giant, cement, indoor
stadium just south of San Francisco. It's an enormous, cavelike
place with pigeons flapping, smoke and dust rising like mist,
weird echoes: it's an altered reality. When the Beatles were there,
it was really altered. What was so awe-inspiring about
the Beatles' concert was not the Beatles: you could barely hear
them for the shrieking. What was amazing was the total insanity
of the thousands of crazed teenage girls in the audience. Their
screams careened off the stadium's rigid walls like maddened bats.
Between the waves of frantic emotion and the flashing of a bazillion
cameras, it was like being in hell-- or some hysterical puberty
rite. The girls fainted, raved, cried, and tried to jump on the
stage, only to be repulsed by massive guards. I couldn't believe
it. I was in my 20's back then, a kid myself, but I thought,
"Why
are they doing that? What do they ever possibly expect to get,
even if they do get on stage?" Would a word from John, Paul,
George, or Ringo transform their lives? Fulfill their souls? I
suspected that it was more than a word they wanted. What
would even that do?
Let's
face it, the Beatles were great. A four man revolution of sound.
But
the love-sick mania? How to explain it?
DO WE GET LOST IN THE DANCE?
Dancers in the Santa Barbara Spanish Days Parade.
What
those crazy little girls were demonstrating was an extreme form
of infatuation. It's easy to see and wonder at when it's so far
out. It's less easy to see in one's self-- until you find yourself
making calls to benefit a stranger instead of your own child.
Is
it wrong to admire another person who leads an exemplary life
and who has been a source of great inspiration? No. We all need
role models, mentors, leaders. It may be perfectly appropriate
and necessary for you to sustain yourself with that hero worship
for years.
And
then you'll see the truth: the object of your infatuation may
be a wonderful, wonderful person, but the buzz, the excitement,
the hype you feel around him/her are higher qualities
of your own soul that you've projected onto that other person.
The
light is your own. The performer, rabbi, therapist, whoever,
has worked on him/herself and developed those personal virtues.
He or she expresses them in song or words. Those virtues or abilities
resonate with the same qualities in your soul. You/I say,
"S/He's so wonderful..." Which may be true,
but our longing is for our own soul's development.
The
best discussion of infatuation I've seen is in What's
on my Mind? by Swami Anantandanda. Swamiji is a Hindu
monk, as you may suspect from his name. He goes into greater detail
about infatuation than I can here. In addition to describing the
process of infatuation, he gives a list of things to do to combat
it. (Along with beating the other "thieves of the heart"--
negative emotions that keep us from enjoying peace and love in
our lives: anger, desire, greed, envy/jealousy, pride, worry,
and fear. Anybody have trouble with those puppies? I sure do.)
Swamiji uses regular, everyday examples, and quotes scriptures--
Hindu scriptures, so don't be surprised. I use this book all the
time. I have two copies, as a matter of fact. One for me, one
to loan.
What's
wrong with infatuation?
Two
things. First, on the grosser level, infatuation knows no boundaries.
It doesn't care that its object is married, has children, or personal
responsibilities and needs. Infatuation may result in inappropriate
and unseemly behavior. It is centered on the person who has the
infatuation, not the beloved/admired one. "I have to talk
to him..."-- regardless of his energy level, time constraints
or personal situation.
At
its worst, infatuation results in the shameless and wanton behavior
associated with rock groupies.
On
the more subtle level, infatuation keeps you involved with another
person rather than developing your own inner and outer life. Infatuation
is a cop out to avoid doing the inner/outer work each of us has
to do.
INFATUATION MAY BE THE BRIDGE
Photo: Zoe Nathan
"YOU
FALL IN LOVE WITH WHAT YOU'RE BECOMING," my professor
said when I was getting my Master's Degree in Marriage, Family
& Child Counseling. "You fall in love with what you're
becoming." This is the positive way of looking at infatuation.
When you fall in love with someone, something about that person
embodies personal qualities that your soul longs to develop and
express. For example, when I fell in love with my husband back
in 1974, what attracted me was his purity-- and what he had done
with his life. He'd done everything I wanted to do, but
was too scared to try. He was a member of the first Peace Corps
"class", serving in Brazil. From there, he trained other
Peace Corps volunteers, and worked in antipoverty and community
development programs all over the United States. He had lived
his values. I fell in love with him. (Didn't hurt that he was
gorgeous.)
Whenever
you feel infatuation, that buzz, that hype over someone or thing--
we don't just fall in love with people-- look inside and see
what part of yourself they/it mirrors. What value or
quality is personified? Courage? Power? Mastery of a skill?
Beauty? Freedom? Truthfulness? One of the higher personal values
is undoubtedly involved. Identify that value and develop it in
yourself.
You
can have your cake and eat it, too, by the way. You can stay a
fan of your amorado while behaving appropriately, and
developing yourself.
MADONNA
Lily Nathan
Oil on plywood
What qualities does the Madonna represent?
The
clearest statement of "you fall in love with what you're
becoming" is something my daughter wrote as part of a press
release for an art exhibit she's in (more on that later). She
talks about her relationship to art and life:
"In
high school, I would walk down the halls with my eyes half closed
in meditation. Wandering amidst the herds of adolescents. Misery,
lust, jealousy, love. Wandering amidst the hot lava of youth.
It was in those halls that art found me. That art took me by
the hand and whispered into my ear, 'There is a way out, you
may become a creator and then you may tell the people the secrets
you hear.'
"So
art found me as a Freshman in high school. It found me, held
me up and has not let me go.
"There
was a young Mexican man called Manuel. He came to the high school
at the very end of my steamy Freshman year and he shared his
work with my art class. I wanted to touch his face, his paint-stained
hands. I wanted to know him, to trust him. Part of me wanted
to be him. He painted with so much passion that I thought I
would faint while reading his diaries and viewing his art. After
being introduced to his work, his life blood, his empathy, his
loving, red heart, I decided that I was falling in love with
what I hoped I would become: an artist. So that was the planting
of the seed.
"Manuel
said with his beautiful accented voice, 'You can do it, you
may become anything you want. Believe in yourself.'
"With
tears in my eyes, rolling down my face, I truly heard Manuel.
I set out to fill the pages of my own diaries. To cover my own
canvases. To tell my own stories. That was five years ago. I
have been sailing my vessel across stormy seas. I have breathed
and closed my eyes and prayed in the eyes of these deluges.
I have spat in the face of my own misfortune and then I have
embraced that misfortune for all that it taught me and made
me see. The ocean is glittering. The tides are swift, then slow.
I paint with cloud covered skies. I paint with the sun burning
my face.
"I
want to show Manuel what I have become. I want him to touch
my face as I have always wanted to touch his. I want him to
see that I have charcoal rubbed on my face and neck. That my
hands are stained with oil paint. That I have paintings in my
bath tub, and everything I touch becomes covered with pigment.
I scrub my cheeks but the paint does not rub away. So I walk
through town with a painted face. I live and breath art. It
shall be written on my gravestone: 'She became what she fell
in love with: an artist.' "
Lily
Nathan
Wouldn't
you rather write that, or paint it, than remain someone's fan?
What would Lily's relationship with Manuel be like now, if he
could see her paintings? Read her words?
I'm
in awe of my daughter.
CHALAN: PERUVIAN HORSE TRAINER
Lily Nathan
Oil on canvas
WHAT'S
NEXT?
Having
dealt with infatuation, whatever was guiding me spiraled deeper.
I was going on retreat, but I had some questions. What was this
Gathering? Who were these people? They weren't of my tradition,
would I be safe? Welcome? I wrote to one of the organizers
and asked my questions directly. I spoke my truth. Ah! The answer
revealed a soul similar to mine. Two e-mails later, I felt she
was my sister. I felt such a powerful connection, such a shock
of recognition. We'd faced the same problems, and dealt with similar
issues.
I
find Spirit absolutely terrifying. Here I was, e-mailing a woman
across the country, in a place I've never been, and finding a
person who felt like a SISTER! We shared some of our spiritual
experiences, a bit about our traditions and families. Bingo! More
was revealed to me: we were supposed to meet.
This
sort of thing just scares me to death. My logical mind has it
all worked out: what's supposed to happen. How my life is supposed
to work. How the world is.
Then--
WHAMMO! Spirit comes in and knocks it flat. Changes everything.
Makes you who you're supposed to be, if you follow it. I started
following spirit for real back about 1973. It's been a hard road,
but, by God!, I'm working out right. If I hadn't followed that
inner voice, that inner guidance, I'd probably be dead. Or a wrecked,
bitter professor somewhere churning out mediocre economics.
The
deeper realization came: I was going to the Gathering not for
Bill Miller, but to talk to someone else.
And
now I'm not going. But perhaps these words will be heard by those
who need them.
FRIENDS IN MY WRITERS' GROUP
Susan's bald head is not a fashion statement: she was in chemotherapy
for ovarian cancer when this was taken. Brenda, who's next to
Susan, is a breast cancer survivor. Betty's wearing glasses because
her eye stopped working-- the other might go, too. I'm next to
Betty. I'd had my first surgery for breast cancer when this was
taken. We're all very alive and kicking today! Writing up a storm,
doing great.
If
you have suffered, if you have been grievously hurt, damaged,
or abused; if you are ill or have a chronic disease-- you can
live a good life. You can be gloriously happy. You will need to
work your fanny off, of course, but no one said life would be
easy. It may be easier coping with your damage or disease than
living an "ordinary" life.
My
meditation teacher said, "Don't pray for an easy life. Pray
for the strength to deal with what life gives you."
When
you are traumatized physically or emotionally, the body stores
the experience. Becoming whole involves releasing that trauma.
This will happen when you are ready, when you have the emotional,
spiritual and personal resources to deal with it-- when your life
is safe enough to let you let go. Then you'll need help from people
who know about the process of healing. You'll also need to recognize
that before the trauma is released, you may be drawn to people
and situations that may cause a repetition of what happened. Or
you may avoid anything like it-- both are results of injury. Stay
safe.
TRAUMA AND ADDICTION MAY HOLD YOU LIKE A TRAP
Lily Nathan
Charcoal on paper
I'm
a great believer in psychotherapy, because dealing with really
big scars, with genetic or other diseases, is outside what most
people-- family members & friends-- can handle. And it's not
their job. I'm a great believer in psychotherapy because of
my own experience and because I learned something
when I got my Master's in Marriage Family & Child Counseling.
They teach you stuff in school. And when you're being supervised
to get a license you learn things from your supervisor.
I believe in going to accredited mental health practitioners.
With
a few caveats: the spiritual/personal state of the therapist is
what does the healing, not just the schooling. Your therapist
will be able to help you heal as far as he/she is healed. So,
pick someone who is healthy, who has good relationships with friends
and family. A therapist told me, "If you go to a therapist,
you should expect clear, obvious improvement in about three months.
If you aren't improving after three months, change therapists."
[Three
or so months. Hah! As if today's HMO's will give you more than
3 sessions! As if people can even get insurance to afford psychotherapy.
As if your insurance will pay, if you've got it. Well, those are
matters for political action. We need to band together to see
that our people, our families, friends and selves, get the medical
care we need. We need to do the best we can until then.]
Back
to discussion: spiritual practice and psychotherapy work beautifully
together-- in my experience. They're aimed at the same goal: your
freedom. The spiritual practices: prayer, meditation, worship,
chanting, selfless service, engagement in a spiritual community--
work together to make you strong enough to face the disease, to
allow the traumatic material to come to the surface. And a competent
therapist will help clean up the mess as it comes out. This works
very well.
The
important thing is your soul's orientation. Face the light. Cling
to the light. If you are so hurt, so hurting, that all you can
do is cling to the feet of whatever vision of God you hold, do
that. Hang on and pray for sustenance, for help. And when the
guidance comes, follow it.
CLING TO THE LIGHT: BELIEVE IN DELIVERANCE
This rainbow actually landed in our front pasture!!!
If
you have been hurt, if you have a disease, know that some of the
brightest lights in history have faced the same. In Writers'
Corner, I talk about the relationship between psychopathology,
suffering and the arts. Take a look at that section-- or the whole
article. The brilliance, the genius, to create something extraordinary
may lie in pain suffered and overcome. I've seen it, and I know
it, up close and personal. Your pain may be the motivation you
need to keep going when an ordinary person would quit. Your pain
may be the spur to experiences of ecstasy far beyond what undamaged
folk achieve. Keep going. Get healed. A wonderful future awaits
you. Every memory that is remembered, every trauma released, every
complex resolved opens the door to love. To bliss. To grace. What
you can experience when you're healed will amaze you.
A
few pitfalls to healing exist:
1.
You won't get healed unless you see your problem. One of the
clearest signs of disease is refusal to get help, refusal to admit
there's a problem with one's self, one's brain, one's thinking.
Blaming the rest of the world, the System, everyone else for one's
problems is the disease. In truth, it takes a person who
is relatively healthy to seek help. It takes a powerful person
to benefit from therapy and have the character to maintain a consistent
spiritual practice.
The
most damaging people I have met were/are too sick to see they
had a problem. They went on perpetrating, attacking others to
defend their disease-- sadly, this is the state of the world.
This is what the newspapers report.
2.
The Most Abused/Sick Person in the Universe Contest. This
is an actual contest, very popular with those who have been hurt
or have illnesses. My daughter attended her first psychology class
last week. When introducing himself, one student gave an extensive
list of his psychological problems, including graphic descriptions
of his phobias and medications. Another student chimed in, one-upping
Student #1. Then another student gave her list, and another. My
daughter got it instantly: they were competing for the
position of Most Screwed Up. You can see people like this all
over. Their hunched postures, woebegone looks, and endless recitations
of what happened are the tip off. This is an addiction.
This comes from identifying with one's abuse, "I am my abuse.
I am what happened to me. I am my disease." Whole groups
do this, endlessly rehashing their trauma. This is not about healing.
If
you have been abused or traumatized, if you have a serious mental
illness or collapse, you may go around feeling and looking like
a whipped dog, for years. For years, you may be
so angry that you could spit nails or blow up the globe. I am
not talking about this real injury/pain period when I
talk about the Most Abused Contest. When the injury and pain and
anger are "hot" and active and you're working them through,
you are healing, even if you look like a disaster. You need skilled
care and support to get through these stages. They pass. It may
take years. You may end up with a few kinks, but you can get serviceably
healed.
I
can tell you stories of peoples' lives that are so awful that
you'll cry hearing them. So horrible that you'll scream and throw
up. I won't though, and neither will the people they happened
to-- unless it's an appropriate situation and hearing their story
will help you handle your life. These people hold jobs,
have families, and excel at life. The main distinction between
them and those who have never suffered is their greater personal
depth and ability to empathize with others. They end up with greater
compassion for the suffering of others than "regular"
people.
The
chief quality of those playing Most Abused/Sick Person is self
involvement and lack of compassion for others. "No
one is as important as me". "No one ever suffered as
much." It's written all over them, if you have eyes to see.
If
you go for Most Abused-- you will get people's pity and their
sympathy.
You
will never get respect or admiration. You'll only get those when
you overcome your hardship.
3.
A codependent therapist who supports your Most Abused Person Concept.
Yes, healing from or managing illness, trauma and abuse is
difficult. Recovery can take years--for instance, the average
length of a therapy for those abused so badly that they develop
multiple personalities is 6.7 years. All that time, the
sufferer needs professional support. And when they're better,
they need a tender kick into the world.
Some
therapists fall in love with their role as the enlightened healer,
"After all you've been through, how could you possibly get
a job, you poor baby?" The therapist asks with worried concern.
"Are you sure you're up to it? Don't feel badly if you fail...
Failure's not the end, you know..." What a set up! This
type of healer isn't healed.
THE OAK SAVANNAS OF CALIFORNIA ARE HOME TO MY SOUL
Santa Ynez Valley Overview: These are protected National Forest
lands
SPIRIT
DOESN'T QUIT:
About
this time, I realized that seeing Bill Miller wasn't the main
reason I was going to The Gathering-- I'd been e-mailing back
and forth with several people who felt like friends. The retreat
began to take on the aspect of "old home week"-- quite
a party was shaping up. But the voice inside me, the knowing,
spiraled me deeper. Something else was calling me, not people.
Not living people, anyway. The land, and those it had held. I've
talked about the pull of Place on this web site before, look at
The Journey and The
Road to Taos.
The
Gathering is being held at a site in the Cherokee National Forest,
in the Great Smoky Mountains. I saw photos of those mountains
and realized that place was calling me. Place calls our
souls-- I've felt that, so have others: perhaps you have. Certain
places on earth feel right: are our homes in a very deep sense.
For other places, we feel no attachment. I felt my connection
to Iceland, my ancestor's home, when I visited it. California's
oak savanna's thrill me to the core: I am a Californian to the
bone. I was called to Taos once, for a very special experience.
And now these Great Smoky mountains were calling me. And more.
Those who once lived there beckoned to my soul.
Spirit
spirals deeper. The Cherokee National Forest. When I think
of the Cherokee Nation in these lands, I think of the Trail of
Tears. This began in the fall of 1838, when about 16,000 Cherokees
were forced to march to Oklahoma, "Indian Territory."
One quarter of them, about 4,000, died from exposure and illness
during the harsh winter. Previously, federal troops drove Georgia
Cherokees into stockades, where about 2,000 died before beginning
the march. I remembered the horror and forget-- or never knew--
the glory of the Cherokee story.
Reading
Killing
the White Man's Indian, I was surprised to discover that
Cherokees established a city, New Echota, in Georgia, in 1817.
Before that, Cherokees lived in villages spread out over Alabama,
Georgia, Tennessee, and into North Carolina. New Echota marked
a revolutionary adaptation to the situation before them: Cherokees
established a city with streets laid out in a grid, built houses
and established businesses, wrote a Constitution, started a free
press, and devised an alphabet with which they printed their own
literature. They built good roads, held fair courts and councils.
New Echota was prosperous, boasting vast numbers of looms, spinning
wheels, plows and every sort of farm implement, as well as numerous
grist mills and ferries, and 18 schools. Residents were prosperous,
and even elegant. Read about New Echota in Killing
the White Man's Indian, by Fergus Bordewich. (Pp. 40 to
49)
Had
New Echota been allowed to continue, history would have been changed--
no doubt could have been left in anyone's mind as to whether Indians
"could be civilized". What happened? What one would
expect: the citizens of Georgia wanted the Cherokees' land and
property. Then gold was discovered on Cherokee land. Despite the
Cherokee achievement, the State of Georgia declared Cherokee laws
void and stripped them of normal rights to protect themselves.
Talk of removing them to the "ample lands beyond the Mississippi"
began.
In
the face of disaster, the Cherokees did an amazing thing: they
sued the State of Georgia and petitioned the United States Supreme
Court for relief.
The
US Supreme Court ruled in their favor! Chief Justice John Marshall
declared in 1832 that the Cherokee Nation was "a distinct
community... in which the laws of Georgia can have no force, and
which the citizens of Georgia have no right to enter.." [Bordewich,
op. cit., p. 46] This should have settled the "Indian question"
forever, changing history.
What
happened, of course, was what we know: The State of Georgia ignored
the ruling and seized Cherokee land; President Andrew Jackson,
the great Indian fighter, didn't bother to help, except with troops
to remove the Indians.
We
remember the Trail of Tears-- which was awful-- but forget the
brilliance of New Echota and the people who built it.
Today,
the Cherokee are considered among the best managed and governed
tribes. Read Bordewich's
book. It's about destroying the stereotypes that the majority
culture holds about Indians-- about removing projections and getting
to the truth, one of my favorite activities. This is not an easy
or comfortable book for anyone to read, as Bordewich's superb
research destroys all sorts of myths, Indian and European based.
What he reveals is that reality is far richer and and more interesting
than myth.
So,
I looked at images of the Great Smoky's and thought about the
people who had lived and died there-- and what they achieved.
How they almost changed history with New Echota-- and how that
had been forgotten.
That
Spirit hasn't died.
It's
been given to me in meditation that the glory of the Native American
Peoples lies in the future-- not in the past.
I
haven't the faintest idea what that means, but I'm supposed to
share it with you.
LAUGHING CHIEFTAIN
Lily Nathan
Charcoal on paper
Why is this man laughing?
REACHING
THE DEPTHS:
Okay.
I wasn't just sitting around having insights and eating chocolates
while all this was going on. Spurs Magazine is not what I do.
I'm a writer. I've been writing pretty near full time since
1995. To date, I've finished two novels and have another four
"under construction".
Writing
is the scariest, most demanding, rewarding, and joyful work I
have ever done. Scary? Yeah. That's me on that page, my
soul, my personal worth. And warts. Also: I have no contracts,
no financial supporters other than my husband and family, no advances,
no nada. I have no guarantees of ever being paid for my work.
And no guarantees that anything I write will ever be published.
All
I have is faith-- and inspiration.
So
far, I've got two novels finished.
What
do you do when you complete a novel? You get it published. I've
been working on this. For the last six months, my literary agent/editor
and I have been working full time, hacking my first novel into
publishable form.
Writing
a book is not like having a baby. Certain elements are the same:
the thrill of conception, long gestation, and painful birth. But
when you have a baby, you get to hold and love the sweet thing
that's come out of you.
When
you finally shove a book into the world, you get to hack it to
pieces with a chain saw.
Or
so it feels.
THE UNDERBODY-- THE FOUNDATION-- ISN'T OFTEN PRETTY. BUT IT'S
NECESSARY
Photo: Zoe Nathan
All
the time I was anticipating going to the Gathering, my agent and
I had been dismembering my book. It was necessary-- very necessary.
As you might expect from the articles in Spurs, I write l-o-n-g....
skipping NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!
My
first book is 1,600 pages! 1,600 PAGES!
If
you can convince a reader or publisher to take on 300 pages these
days, that's great. Only books for kids-- like the last Harry
Potter book-- can be over 600 pages. Mine was 1,600 pages.
(Have you seen The
Wonder Boys with Michael Douglas? See this movie-- it's
hysterical. Boy, do I empathize with Michael's character, a writer.
The film richly deserves its "R" rating, by the way.)
Well,
we had to cut my book. First to go was the rendition of the Bhagavad
Gita (& the Mahabharata war) in modern language: even I could
see it was superfluous. Then "Everything you ever wanted
to know about economics" got the boot. Not everyone wants
to know much about economics, despite my years of study and devotion
to the subject. Then we got down, really trimming. Lots
stayed: the description of an entire school of psychiatry and
a rendition of the history of Native American peoples since the
European landing.
Sarah,
my agent/editor and now best friend and father/mother confessor,
suggested cutting some of the legions of characters. We did.
Then
she said, "Get rid of Carl. Who cares about Carl Redstone?"
Gasp.
I cared. I couldn't cut Carl. I needed Carl.
(And when you get a load of his tattooed, heavily muscled body--
and magnificent soul-- you will need him, too!)
And
then there's the story. If you think what I take on in Spurs is
heavy, man, my book! Whoa! This thing gets down. It's real.
If you see The
Wonder Boys, notice the author and his editor doing improv
type riffs on plots. We do that, Sarah and I. Except ours
are like, "And the root of his anguish is..."
"What destroys him is.." Heavy stuff. Also, it's
my stuff, since if you know me, you'll know how the book
relates to my life. Painful for me to delve into.
I know how a screw feels when a mighty screw driver rams it into
hardwood-- that's how I felt this summer.
GETTING TO THE BOTTOM OF THINGS IS LIKE ENTERING A SWAMP:
SEEMS BOTTOMLESS, UNTIL YOU HIT THE BOTTOM
Georgia swamp. Photo: Zoe Nathan.
All
of this was going on at once. The heart of the Great Smoky's was
calling to me, and the souls of those who had lived there wanted
to speak. Also, Sarah wanted me to cut Carl Redstone and our little
discussions were pushing on "primary process" stuff
in me-- what shrinks refer to as "deep doo-doo". I was
shakin', breakin', and ready for the real thing.
WHO WAS REALLY CALLING ME?
Georgia cemetery. Photo: Zoe Nathan
That's
when I got who was really calling me to the Gathering. The Gathering
is a Native American, Christian retreat, put on under the auspices
of the Methodist Church. Who was calling me? Who lay at my core,
my deepest being?
The
Prince of Peace, the Rose of Sharon, the Son of Man, the Radiant
One, the Keeper of Glory, the Lord of my Heart. My own Jesus Christ.
I
don't talk about my experience of Jesus much, and I won't here.
When
I got Who wanted me at the Gathering, or rather Who wanted to
talk to me, rapture arose in my heart. I was filled with bliss.
Uplifted. Inspired. Yes. The Lord of my Heart came to me and lingers
with me.
I
wrote a scene for my book at this point-- where it came from,
I don't know. It's so beautiful, tears come to me thinking of
it. I'm so glad I'm a writer. I will do this work for the One
who sends the words as long as I have breath in this body. As
long as I can sit and type. Beyond that.
Thank
you, thank you, thank you, my Lord and my Shield.
My
book has a very strong spiritual message. It also has a very strong
Christian message.
When
you've known Jesus Christ, how can you forget Him? What can you
do but serve Him? And share His glory?
HE IS RISEN
Photo: Zoe Nathan
SPIRIT
NEVER QUITS!
My
meditation teacher said something like, "Trust in the Lord
of all the universe. He will hold you up: you will not fall."
Well,
that's true. It's less than a week until my knee gets new innards.
I
thought I'd be scared stiff. I thought I'd be a basket case. Something
else happened. When you do the work, when you move forward as
directed by Spirit, grace comes and you do not fall.
The
craziest things have happened since I realized I couldn't go to
back East:
First
off, I ran into a friend from my meditation center in a store.
I have never seen her in a store before or since. I told her that
I wouldn't be going to the Ashram or The Gathering. She reminded
me that our group was holding a one day retreat that Sunday,
by merest chance. Oh. Do these coincidences scare you? They
do me.
Spirit
takes care of everything! I went on retreat after all-- for one
day, 40 minutes from my house. There's not just one way or place
to go on retreat. You don't have to bend your life into a pretzel,
put others out, spend all your money-- Spirit will bring the retreat
to you. Just show up in the right places. Like in Ross Store,
in my case. Weird.
The
one day meditation Intensive was a miracle for me: wondrous from
the inside out. I had a vision there that I will never forget.
I wish I could draw it, but it's too beautiful. Too luminous.
TOO BEAUTIFUL TO BE CLEARLY SEEN
Photo: Zoe Nathan
More happened. Remember how my daughter was pining to show her
art? She's been in three art shows this summer, including a
major exhibition! Through my work, that of my daughter, and
seeds planted years ago, Lily was invited to participate in an
art show at a prestigious gallery in Santa Barbara with two other
women!
The
crazy part is-- I was invited to participate, too.
This
is how I see Spirit working: I moved to help others, truly wanting
nothing for myself, and ended up with a reward I never expected:
I was standing in the gallery, being a go-fer for my daughter.
The gallery manager approached me and said, "You do sculpture,
don't you?" Well, yes. My husband had told the manager about
my work a couple years before. "Well, we have all these sculpture
stands.. Do you want to be in the show?" Well, uh, sure.
The other women thought it was okay.
So--
the show is up! It's absolutely beautiful. Lily's sold a few pieces,
as have the other artists. The opening was a great success. We
even got newspaper coverage.
(And
Bill Miller-- if you read this: I'll follow through on the gallery
leads for you A.K.R.: After Knee Replacement. I'm a bit jammed
on time now.)
Getting
ready for the show took up many hours that I could have used being
hysterical about my knee-- Sorry, fear, I've got better things
to do than give in to you.
PEACE, AT LAST
Sandra Nathan
Marble/resin casting
Photo: Zoe Nathan
And
then, a horse show was coming up, a very prestigious show we hadn't
attended for several years. My daughter volunteered to stay home
and take care of the ranch.
So
my husband and I went to the show and had some time alone before
my surgery. I talked for three days straight, and he rode horses,
which is how we usually work it. With great results! A stream
of smiling faces and happy memories comes to me when I recall
our dear friends at the show, and Barry won a ton of extremely
useful ribbons and trophies, including a Champion of Champions
with one of our mares. (What do you do with horse show ribbons?)
We
bred, birth, raise, train and ride our own horses: beating some
of the big guys felt fine. Our homebred horses did great!
BARRY NATHAN WINNING WITH SHAKTI BSN
They went on to win Champion of Champions Amateur Performance
Mare
HAVE
A BLAST, ALL YE WHO GATHER!!!
So
that's it: I'm not going to The Gathering. I'm counting the days
before my knee gets redone. I'll probably be in the hospital during
the retreat.
My
very, very best wishes to all of you who go to The Gathering:
to the organizers and presenters of the workshops, everyone who
attends and helps out, and to Bill Miller. May you attain your
hearts' desires and see the face of God.
I'd
love to hear from you. I'd love to receive pictures and stories
about your experiences and insights. I'll put them together in
an article-- may take me a while, I don't know how this recovery
thing will go. And I'd appreciate your prayers for me and my knee.
Sandy
Nathan
PS:
It's too late to sign up for the Gathering now, but if I received
all this and didn't even go, just think what you could
have receive actually going on retreat! Be on the lookout for
a suitable retreat for yourself-- one that calls to your soul,
that feels right in every way. That you can afford and is in the
right time and place. One will come up. You can even "go
on retreat" in your own house: I learned how to do that this
summer, hiding out quietly in a feed shed every afternoon for
an hour or so. Spirit will guide you-- It's everywhere.
THE MYSTERY SHINES ALWAYS & EVERYWHERE
Photo: Zoe Nathan
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