In the Name of Love

I posted the following entry one year ago today as the US Supreme Court announced a ruling that made marriage equality the law of the land. Today, as LGBT communities around the country celebrate Pride Month, and in the wake of 50 lives lost in a terroristic hate crime against the Orlando LGBT community, it felt important to revisit this.  We have come so far, yet, there are still those who will fight to diminish that progress...who will disrespect, discriminate, and even seek to destroy and kill us in the name of the god they have chosen...in the name of hate...in the name of fear.  I don't know the answer, I really don't.  I just have to have faith that, if we just keep showing the world who we are...we are friends, neighbors, families, church members, doctors, lawyers, grocery store clerks...if we just keep living the examples of love and understanding, we can't help but win...in the name of love.  It sounds so hokey and idealistic when I see it on paper, but it's really all I have and what I hang on to...

May all beings everywhere be filled with lovingkindness.  

May all beings everywhere feel safe in the arms of the ones they love

May all beings everywhere know comfort and ease

May all beings be happy

May all beings be free

May we all be free...

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. 

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Today, the supreme court handed down a historical ruling on the side of equality for all people.  When I heard it, I cried without really understanding why.  Most days, I don’t feel like an outsider or like I am the object of discrimination because of my sexuality.  But the feelings that welled up inside of me with the ruling really spoke to how deeply the sense of separation runs and how longstanding it has been.  I have become so far removed from it that, in the day to day life that I lead, I am not even aware of it until something like this comes along and the sense of relief nearly drops me to my knees.  The tears that flow today, flow in the remembering of times in my life when I was not removed from the pain of discrimination and hate.  They flow as I think about a thousand or more LGBT people in Dallas, Texas silently walking on a cool October evening with candles in remembrance of a young man in Wyoming tied to a fencepost and left to die for being just like us.  Tears flow as I remember the hot shame of being asked for my ID by mall security after someone had reported that there was a man in the women's bathroom because they only saw my short hair and boyish clothes and didn’t really look at me. They flow as I remember the self consciousness of holding my partner’s hand in a public place and the hurt of being introduced as my partner's “friend” when we would go to gatherings with her family or work or opting out of these events altogether because we simply weren’t welcome as a couple. They flow as I remember kneeling at an altar in a fundamentalist church while the preacher violently prayed over me that God would forgive and remove the "sinfulness" from me because I wanted to desperately to be accepted and loved by the people that worshipped there and I knew that I would never be as long as these "shameful" and "dirty" feelings were inside of me.  Tears flow as I remember lying down in the street in front of city hall for a chalk outline to be drawn to represent the thousands of gay men that were losing their lives to AIDS before the cocktail and when “Living with HIV” was not even yet a thing.  I remember those men…many, many of them.  Tears flow as I remember volunteering at the AIDS Crisis Center on Reagan street in Dallas - sharing meals and visiting with the folks that came in to eat there…hanging out with my neighbor at the Food Pantry…and ultimately, propping myself up next to him in his bed and watching TV while is IV medications ran in every day because his family had disowned him and wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence.  The tears flow as I think about friends that have lost loved ones in hospitals where, in spite of having loved and lived and laughed together for many years, and having cared for them until their final days, they were not allowed in their hospital room because they were not considered to be truly family and for those same friends that had to, through their grief, fight their partner's families to keep the homes and belongings that they shared together. They flow for friends that built their families and had children together, only to never see those children again when their families were separated by the many human shortcomings that have ways of tearing families apart because there was not legal recourse or protection. And they also flow as I remember the way my heart grew on parade days - hot, humid, sweaty days in September - when our community flooded the streets and the air was alive with activism and the sense that we were not invisible - celebrating love that was demonized in the world outside of our little community as sinful, wrong, and inferior...

While our love has always been equal, today, it is acknowledged by the world…and, while I have spent a good part of my life trying to get to the place where I do not have to be acknowledged to be validated, I have to admit…this one feels really, really special.  And that is why the tears are flowing…

Love wins.  It always does...

My Mother's Laughing Buddha

My Mother's Laughing Buddha

Standing on a table
Behind the loveseat
In my mother’s living room
The tall black statue
Of the Buddha joyfully laughing
My mother loved that Buddha
Once in a while
I would see her touch him
As she walked by
Almost ceremoniously
For a blessing, I suppose
And it must have worked
Because she always
Walked away smiling
Each day I kneel before
My mother’s laughing Buddha
Standing on a table
In front of a window
In my own living room
A reminder and a refuge
Of blessing, grace, and joy

c.sharshel
5/7/2016

Say I Love You

Say "I love you"

Say it randomly

To the people closest to you

To a stranger on the street

To yourself in the mirror

Tell someone what you love most

About who they are

And then another thing

There can’t be too many

Just say it out loud

Watch it light them up

Watch it light you up

Say “I love you”

Say it again and again

Because everything else

Is just idle conversation

-c.sharshel, 2015

From Metta-Morphosis: Reflections on Becoming

Ctrl+Alt+Del

2015 IMCW New Years Retreat                                                                               Pearlstone Retreat Center - Reisterstown, MD

     

And just like that, a new year is underway.  2015 ended and 2016 began with five days of stillness and silence on a residential meditation retreat...my favorite place to be.

I am a firm believer that the first action that should be taken to fix something that is broken or underperforming is to turn it off and unplug it, wait a few minutes, and turn it back on.

Ctrl+Alt+Del…the most useful keyboard shortcut ever...

The Sacred Pause...

This seems to be what happens for me when I take the time to step away from my busy life and dedicate time to intentionally turning inward for an extended period of time.  I am always surprised at how, when things get quiet, my brain spirals out into its conditioned patterns in a desperate effort to somehow restore the noise…the distraction…like an overtired child that keeps chattering and fidgeting and thinking up things to do, say, and need in order to avoid an approaching bedtime.  But, when the circuit finally breaks, the clarity with which I can notice each and every moment is nothing short of brilliant.  In this space, even the most fragile, fractured pieces of me can be safely exposed into a light of tenderness and compassion and my heart is unwavering in its courage to welcome and hold them.  The love I find in this place is real and true and pure.  And then, of course, I have to go to the airport...

I can’t say that I have ever come home completely enlightened.  But I have come home every time with more awareness than I left with.  I don’t have a blank slate, but I have a new perspective on the things that are working in my life and the things that are not.  This has particularly been true with this retreat with all of the implications and anticipation of the new year ahead.

In 2015, there was a lot that didn’t work.  The grief brought on by my mother’s passing is ongoing, has been so complicated, and is bigger than I ever dreamed it would be - and I dreamed it would be unimaginably and unbearably big.  I thought it would be linear.  I was wrong.  It is still a day to day experience.  I sit with it, I cry, I move into it and out of it.  I am learning that maybe it is just a new way of being...that it might never "end" at all.  I moved on from the frustrating job I had in January to a new frustrating job that pays more, but still does not feed my soul.  I overestimated my energy and failed to follow through on a number of commitments. I have given into fear…a lot.  I didn’t lose weight, or save more money, or organize my cabinets and closets, or exercise more.  That being said...I believe I really did do the best I could.  Maybe 2015 was meant to teach me about acceptance and kindness in the face of falling short.  I got a lot of practice.

Not all is lost, though, because 2015 did bring about some things that did work...often gloriously.  I navigated a huge disruption of a very important relationship in my life.  It wasn’t perfect, but I weathered the storm without any bridge burning or dramatic exits.  I took care of myself this year in ways that I have never really been able to before by paying attention to my heart and doing my best to provide for it ahead of anything else.  Sometimes, that has meant pulling away, other times, that has meant reaching beyond my usual comfort zone.  Sometimes, it meant staying home and saying no to everything, and sometimes, it meant going far from home and saying yes to everything.  The willingness to do whatever is necessary has been a brave new milestone for me this year.  I want to grow that.  Finally, I wrote a book.  I could point out all of the ways that this very slender, self-published volume is not a “real” book, but I won’t.  Because when I hold it in my hands and turn the pages, I know that the words inside do not get more real…and the feeling in my heart is both spectacular and terrifying.  Have I arrived or am I just setting forth?  I don’t know.  More will be revealed, I suppose.

I have no specific plan for 2016, but I am interested and open to whatever it brings (Although, I might mention in advance that I prefer to avoid root canals, travel delays, tech failures, and pricey car repairs).  I want to continue to be uncompromising in the care of my own heart and grow the ways that I reach out in caring for others.   I want to learn to let go of what does not serve me without leaving claw marks.  I want to love both the waves and the still water.  I want to figure out how to live inside of my values.  Right effort…Right livelihood.  How can I take care of myself financially while contributing to a world in which I can feel alive?  What is the calling of my heart?  I am pretty sure I know this, but what can I do right now, right here to live more authentically from that?  Where can my talents and abilities be of the most service to others?  Where can they most serve my own happiness?  It’s a long way from here to there, but I think it must start with inquiry:  What is between me and joy?  What is between me and happiness?  What is between me and freedom?  These are the questions that really resonate as I head into the new year.

A verse from Rilke was a constant companion during my silent pilgrimage:

You, sent out beyond your recall,


Go to the limits of your longing.


Embody me.

Flare up like a flame


And make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.


Just keep going. No feeling is final.

Don't let yourself lose me.

Go to the limits of your longing.  Flare up like a flame.  Let everything happen.  This is what I want 2016 to look like…

May 2016 bring blessings beyond measure and be all that you need it to be…

May you be healthy, prosperous, and full of joy...

May you, and I, and all beings everywhere know love, peace, and freedom...

Metta-Morphosis: Reflections on Becoming

The path holds me...carries me...transforms me...

So, I had to write about it.

Pick up a copy HERE

Into The Temple

http://living-in-a-limited-world-to.blog.co.uk/2012/06/27/enter-the-real-dragon-13946313/

It is not without fear

That I enter this holy temple

Beckoned through darkness

By promise of the light

Dwelling deep inside

Come out from the murky shadow

Who dares to block the path

Show yourself to me now

Breathing fire

In your most terrible

Dragon disguise

I will bow before you

Until your loudest roar 

Becomes a whisper

I will stand in silent witness

To all that is your armor

Grief, hurt, anger, shame

Until every scale falls away

Revealing truth

Reflecting radiance

Illuminating the path

Into the sacred center

c.sharshel

11/15/2015

Losing Ground: Learning How to Surrender

It's hard to believe that a full year has gone by since my mother passed away.  It sounds like such a long time, a year...but it feels like just a moment. I can still feel the warmth of her cheek on mine while I was whispering into her ear as her heart slowed and she took her final breaths.

It's remarkable how an entire life can get divided into "before" and "after" - how suddenly the reference point changes.

The moment I let go of my mother's hand that day, I tumbled over the edge of a cliff that I had only known in my worst nightmares.  Driven by panic and instinct, I flailed about recklessly and in vain searching for a handhold...a place to put my feet...anything to interrupt this terrifying, endless free fall into an encompassing abyss of grief and sorrow.  There is probably not a more effective way to learn to embrace groundlessness, than by the disappearance of the foundation of your entire existence.  

Some weeks after my mother's passing, I went to the park to meditate.  I sat on a bench with my eyes closed, following my breath and noting the sounds around me with the intention of just being in touch with the chilly winter morning that was unfolding.  After a few minutes passed, I was suddenly gripped by such intense panic that I actually gasped out loud.  My urge was to leave but, when I tried to get up, my legs felt paralyzed and I found I couldn't go anywhere.  So, I sat there breathing...hand on heart...reciting the only mantra I can come up with when I find myself so caught..."It's going to be ok.  It's all fine."  As I often do when I am struggling in my meditation, I began to call on my teacher in my mind.  What would she say to me in this moment if she were here?  I imagined her sitting quietly next to me on the bench...her presence supporting me...comforting me...holding space for this overwhelming fear and panic and sudden searing grief...gently reminding me to breathe, and breathe, and breathe.  

"I'm falling."  I whispered

"Yes."  She nodded

"There's nothing I can do about it and I hate it."  I said

"The resistance causes you to suffer, not the falling." She reminded me

"I don't know what to do."  The anxiety was growing again.

"Just let it happen."  she replied, and reassured me that she would stay right there as long as I needed her to.

In the moment I really sensed the very difficult truth that there was nothing to hold onto...and nothing to break my fall...there was such a sense of devastation - and then, such a deep, deep relief.  Understanding the absolute nature of the reality before me gave me what I needed to completely surrender to the falling...to the hurting...to the churning, dark, waves of grief that were cresting and crashing within.

Throughout this year, I have found myself returning to this place of surrender over and over again.  Some days, I surf and swim and some days it's more like treading water while the waves repeatedly crash down on my head, leaving me coughing and sputtering and gasping for air.  Every once in a while, the current will wash me up onto a tiny island beach...deserted and still...where I can look out over the beauty and vastness of the ocean that I belong to and replenish my energy for when the next rip tide comes to pull me out again.  

Time and again, my cushion supports more than just my posture as I navigate these waters...as I learn to live in groundless space.  It is the place where I go to remember...to remember my mom, to remember my heart, to remember the love of belonging.  It is the place I go to find safety, to touch reality, to understand truth.  It is a flotation device when the waves are high and my energy feels low - keeping me afloat and allowing me to rest until I have the strength to press on again.

I am so grateful for this path and the way these teachings hold me, guide me, and sustain me through whichever of the 10,000 joys or sorrows happens to be visiting in this very moment...

And this one...

And this one...

And this one...