Dear Santa, Please don't get me any gifts this year because I haven't been good enough.

My husband sometimes complains about the way I do things. --And in the heat of the moment, I can be so afraid of not being good enough that I am compelled to defend my position. I can be so desperate to convince him that there is a good and valid reason for my behavior that I will attempt to turn the whole thing around on him. I will list his "faults" and make sure he is clear that it's not ME who isn't good enough, it's him. But deep down I sense how far removed I am from the truth... and I begin to believe that the truth I am hiding from is my own "not good enough-ness". (I do know that's not a word!)  Eventually I feel guilty for my behavior and, as crazy as it sounds, sometimes this guilt starts the whole circle over again and before I know it I am listing his faults... again. Of course I don't always behave like this. --But still I'm sure you will agree, Santa, that I truly don't deserve any presents from you this year. I have so much more work to do. Hopefully this next year I can be a much better person. Thank you for your time.
The average <married woman>?

Hmmmm. The other day I sat with a group of students and asked them each to share something they were afraid of. Bravery conquered in that particular moment as, one after another, each confessed to things like: exposure, failure and not being good enough.  I have heard a quote before that if we all sat in a circle and confessed our deepest darkest secrets, we would laugh at the lack of originality. And I have personally witnessed proof of this in a group of 250 people once. In that case, person after person stood to share the thing they were most ashamed of about themselves- to all 249 others in the room. Each time the group facilitator would say to the rest of us, "Please raise your hand if you have had this thought before, or if you have said something or done something similar." Hands went up. Often, all hands went up. Over and over again I witnessed expressions of shame, guilt, and intense pain transform. First into shock and then into pure and indescribable relief. People looked younger, lighter, freer, in only a matter of seconds.

I propose (as many others have done before me) the possibility that there is "One mind". --That all thoughts are shared within this one mind between billions of bodies and recycled constantly. That our fears of failure, exposure and not being good enough come from states of insanity. That it is insanity to believing that we are, first, separate and then somehow different from everybody or anybody else.

With this understanding, I can relate to my husbands frustration because it is also mine. I can have compassion for the weakness, fear, anger, and selfishness I see in others because all of that is also mine. Perhaps this is the truth I sometimes sense I am missing in the midst of reacting to my husbands words:  No one can be "the one" who is not good enough, because when there is one mind there is no one separate to compare to. Well, it sure sounds better than a debate over who is and who is not this... or that.

Thank you, Jennifer BV, for The Gift. I sat in the silence of the yoga studio today and read to myself:

How do I listen to others? 

As if everyone were my Master

Speaking to me

His 

Cherished

Last

Words.

Peace to us all!
Namaste,
Cori

Impossible To Forgive?

Yesterday I closed my Balanced Yogi class by reading a short story from the book Forgiveness, Loving Kindness and Peace by Jack Kornfield. This (paraphrased) true story was about a 14 year old boy who shot and killed another teenage boy to prove himself to his gang. The deceased boys mother attended the sentence hearing and when the teenager was convicted for the murder of her only child she looked him right in the eyes and said, "I'm going to kill you." Several months later that same woman went to visit her sons killer in the juvenile corrections facility he was assigned to. Because the boy had no family, she was his first and only visitor. She gave him some money for cigarettes. She continued visit and began to bring him gifts, food and money throughout his sentence. When it was nearing time for his release, she asked him what he was going to do when he got out. He had no family or friends left and didn't know what he would do. She offered to get him a job at a friends business that she knew was hiring.... and she offered him a temporary room in her home. For months the boy worked at the job and stayed in her home. One night the woman called the boy into the living room and asked him to sit down. She asked if he remembered the day in the courtroom when she had said she was going to kill him. He did. She told him that she did not want a boy who could kill her son in cold-blood to be alive on this earth and that that was why she began to visit him. She looked again into his eyes and said, "So I did everything in my power to kill that boy, and I believe that he is now dead. And since that boy is dead and my son is dead, I'd like to adopt you. -If you'll let me."

At this point tears were rolling down my cheeks. (I had barely kept my voice steady enough to ready the end of the story.) :)

So now I sit to reflect on the much less dramatic opportunities I have in my own life to open my heart and forgive others. I know that we can't fight anger with anger, violence with more violence, selfishness with selfishness, and so on. Yet I still notice the feeling of anger or resentment arise in me, in reaction to those things. I am so thankful for the ability to notice this. I know this is how I increase the degree of consciousness in the world- by being more conscious myself.  And I know that noticing is a very big step in the transformation process. Now let's see if I can forgive myself each time I get hooked by the reaction and notice that despite being aware of it, I still can't get out. If I can forgive myself, I can certainly forgive everyone else. After all, if I can't get out... how can I expect anyone else to either? And if a mother can forgive the killer of her own son, there's a lot of hope for me. -I think, for all of us.

I invite you to notice when things seem unforgivable. In small ways: like another driver speeding by and cutting you off on the freeway, the way a person spoke to you, looked at you, or something that they said. And in big ways: look at grudges you have held onto for long periods of time. Is it really impossible to forgive? And in the wake of your unforgiving heart and mind, who is suffering the most?

Namaste,
Cori