Friday, October 23, 2015

Lakota Prayer Songs phonetically spelled



LAKOTA PRAYER SONGS, CORRESPONDING WITH MICHAEL TWO-FEATHERS’S CD
PHONETICALLY SPELLED

All are four pushups unless otherwise designated


1.       PRE-PIPE FILLING SONG

Chanupa wah-nay chau-pay low
Tawn-yonng yoh-zoh, yo, yo – hay
Oh-gnah shcmaw yah gnah yay key-low
Ay wakan yong yee wah yay-lo ay
Oh-gnah shcmaw yah gnah yay ke-low, hay

2.       PIPE FILLING SONG

Kola leh chay lay choon whoah,
Kola leh chay lay choon whoah
Kola leh chay lay choon whoa, yo ah-ay

Ay chaunuki, nay tunk-a-shayla
Wah nay ongnuke-tay loh-yo, ay

Hochoh-ka wahn sjay
You-ha yay low tah kay chay
Miksu ya opagi yo hay

Ay chanuki taku ya chay-ku
Nay chay choo ktay low, ay

Kola leh chay lay choon whoah,
Kola leh chay lay choon whoah
Kola leh chay lay choon whoa, yo ah-ay

Ay chaunuki, nay tunk-a-shayla
Wah nay ongnuke-tay loh-yo, ay

Chan-oo-pa wahn sjay
You-haw lay loh tah-kay chee
Miksu ya opagi yo hay

Ay chanuki taku ya chay-ku
Nay chay choo ktay low, ay
(2 pushups, or until all pipes are filled)

3.       Common Man’s Song
Toon-GA-SHE-LAH way-ah wayonk a way oh away
Toon-GA-SHE-LAH way-ah wayonk a way oh away
Lay wee- ksha-sha ick- shay ah
Lay mee-ay yay low, hay
Waka-yong wah chay choh zay-loh, hay
Lay wee- ksha ick- shay ah
Lay mee-ay ay low hay


4.       FOUR DIRECTIONS SONG

5. SPIRIT CALLING SONG 1 /(wakan a hoy ay key eye oh x 3)
Wakan a hoy ay key eye oh
Wakan a hoy ay key eye oh
Wakan a hoy ah key eye oh
Oyate wah nay wah nee ah nook-tay loh ay ay ay ay ay 

Wakan a hoy ay key eye oh
Wakan a hoy ay key eye oh
Oyate wah nay wah nee ah nook-tay loh ay ay ay ay ay 


6. EAGLE CALLING SONG /(mee-YAY TOKA ay-ah)
Mee – YAY TOKA ay-ah
Namp-AY to a walkee ay loh-yo
Wambli glesh ka wah
Nay ya ya oo- way loh yo, ay
Mee – yay toka ay-ah
Namp-AY to a walkee ay loh-yo, ay
(4 pushups)
Heartbeat

7. WAKINYAN INVITATION SONG
Lay- chee-ah ya kola wan-kee hamp-ay loh yo, hay hay hay hay hay
Lay- chee-ah ya kola wan-kee hamp-ay loh yo, hay hay hay hay hay
Wee-oke pay ah ta
Wah-keen oh-yah tay wah kola wan-kee hamp-ay loh yo, hay hay hay hay hay
(4 pushups)
Heartbeat

8. SONG FOR THE INYAN (2ND ROUND SONG)
Ee-yah wah een-ah gjee ay
Why onk ee yay loh ay
Oh-yah tay kee ah neep pee tah chah, een nah gjee ay
Kola why onk-ee ay loh, ay
(4 pushups)
Fast beat

9. FOUR LEGGED INVITATION SONG

10. SPIRIT IS COMING FROM ABOVE / (Oh-tah YAY PAY-YAY x2)
Oh-tah YAY PAY-YAY Oh-tah YAY PAY-YAY 
Wakan tah-oh-tah yay pay- yay
Oh-tah yay pay -yay 
Wakan tye-ah oh-tah yay pay-loh
Oh-tah yay pay-loh, hay

Ay wakan toon-gash-ee-lah  oh-tah yay pay-yay
Oh-tah yay pay-yay
Wakan tye-ah oh-tah yay pay loh
Oh-tah yay pay loh, hay

Heartbeat

11. DOCTORING SONG (Black Tailed Deer) L
Lay meeyay-cha
Dah een-ah wah-gjee ay loh, ay ay ay ay ay
Lay meeyay-cha
Dah een-ah wah-gjee ay loh, ay ay ay ay ay
Sen-tah sah pay lah do
Lay mee-yay-cha
Dah een-ah wah-gjee ay loh, ay ay ay ay ay
(Heartbeat)

12. SONG OF THE SACRED INIPI RITUAL ITEMS
Why-onk-ee yay, ay Why-onk-ee yay
(Item/Verse) 1. Chah-noo-pah key lay 2.) Hoh-cho-kah key lay 3.) Een-yahn key lay 4.) Bay-tah-ah key lay  5.) Mee-nee key lay 6.) Chan-chay gah key lay 7.) Wee-yah kah key lay 8.) Chah lee wahk pah tah 9.) Pay gjoo tah key lay 10.) Shee nah key lay

Wakan yay loh yo
Why-onk-ee yay-loh, ay

(One pushup, in-time drumbeat

13. CREATOR HONOR SONG
Wakan tanka
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay
Wakan tanka
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay

Mee tok oo way loh
Wah neep tah cha
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay

Tungahsila
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay
Tungashila
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay

Mee tok oo way loh
Wah neep tah cha
Toka hay yah
Gjay walk ee ay loh ay

(Two pushups, fast beat)

14. PRAYER SONG – PITY US




Friday, October 16, 2015

The Worst Agreement - Essay



The Worst Agreement
I had an epiphany yesterday, so powerful that I pondered it off and on throughout the day. It eventually awoke me this morning at 3:30. Like most epiphanies, it feels like there’s an element of spirit to it, so the message is bound to lose something in the retelling. After all, epiphanies are usually meant primarily for the one receiving them in the moment they are recognized. This is one reason that reading about spiritual experiences or the words of the Masters is of limited benefit; the real power is always in direct experience. If we want to experience what Jesus, or the Buddha, or (insert spiritual hero here) experienced in terms of living a life of service and/or soulful connection we have to not only be willing to live as they did, but actually do the things that brought them the ability – not only the desire – to do so. Anything other than that is lip service, excuses and rosy-eyed wannabe-ism masquerading as devotion. But I digress, as usual.
Now about this epiphany. I’ve known the concept for a long time but until yesterday, I was unable to integrate it viscerally. It had to do with a concept I first came across in “The Four Agreements” by Miguel Ruiz about six years ago. I’ve read it in Jane Roberts’ “Seth” accounts, seen it throughout my study of Andean shamanism and it was re-emphasized to me yesterday as I was reading “Seeing In The Dark”, by Colleen Deatsman . The concept is that everything we are experiencing here in life is the result of a collective dream which we have co-authored. Leaving aside the messy aspects of such an idea for now such as those dealing with the suffering of the innocent – why would they co-author their own suffering – let’s assume that there is truth to that idea, that we have somehow signed on for rampant corruption and pollution, a “shooting-a-day” in places of learning, never ending war and politicians that smile, joke and enrich themselves from it. How could that be?

There’s an answer, but it’s not a thought that would not be popular among many I count as friends and family. Before I explore it with you, let me share the short anecdote that helped me tie in this teaching with my life. The other day, someone asked me that if I had so much disdain for the United States government – and I do – why don’t I just move to another country? My answer was automatic, unexpected and from my heart.

“I like it here,” was all I said.

The other person looked confused. A light went on in my head, so I continued.

“Yeah, I like the desert over there to the east and the mountains over there to the west. I like the clean water that bubbles out of the ground and the expansive sky around here. I like the smell of sagebrush after a rainstorm and aspen trees. Why should I move because the government is corrupt? Where would I go?”

The other person didn’t have much to say, because all governments are corrupt since corruption is not a function of government as much as it’s a function of people in power who act in self-centered, sociopathic ways. There’s nowhere that this is NOT the case at this point. And hell, what can he say about aspen trees? They laugh in the breeze and turn technicolor every Autumn. Best things ever.
So yesterday it all came together for me: the teachings and the conversation, all packaged up into this nifty little epiphany. I guess until I had both the teachings and the conversation, I wasn’t able to “feel” the truth of the teachings as powerfully for me. (How important are the little interactions we have every day?) So here it is – be prepared to say “duh”, because it’s pretty basic. Ready? Here we go: The United States is nothing more than a collective agreement. That’s it. Here, I better put that in its own little line so it sticks out.

The United States in nothing more than a collective agreement.

That’s it. That’s the great revelation.

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that Native American history, spirituality and lifeways are a significant part of my life. I know a little about how the West was “won”. One word: genocide. It wasn’t stolen because it wasn’t owned. The natives who lived here were majestic animals and real humans in every respectable, honorable sense of those terms. They fought brutally among themselves at times but there were physically pragmatic and spiritually energetic reasons for that which are hard for the western mind to comprehend and, let’s face it, humanity can be brutal. But in short, they lived with the land and lived their “religion”, which is deep; far deeper than modern Christianity (unless you’re like Thomas Merton, who was a serious Christian. He’s worth looking up).  An author called Dan Price observed in a book entitled “Radical Simplicity” that the Nez Perce lived for thousands of years in NE Oregon, often near the current town of Joseph. The only thing you can find as evidence of their living are some petroglyphs, which are less like graffiti and more like a newspaper, and some chunks of pottery or maybe some arrow or spearheads. A community that size can’t live that small without serious respect for life, a basic tenant of most spiritual paths.

But as we know, a new culture came in and claimed the land and killed anyone who opposed them. In other words, the US possessed the land in such a way that the Natives were unable to survive in an acceptable manner to them. So they fought.

I won’t go into the facts about the so-called “Indian Wars”, but it is no exaggeration when I say that the actions of the US government were far more severe than those of the Native people among themselves before their arrival. So eventually the Natives were driven out and the land possessed by the new people; a far more brutal, greedy and self-righteous lot. In fact, I believe the original “shock and awe” campaign involved the level of depravity to which the US and her soldiers would sink to gain their aims. At first it did not compute to the Natives, who often warred by “counting coup”, a glorified game of tag, rather than killing their enemies. That as much as anything broke the spirit of the Natives and made them subject to not only the genocide but to the cultural brainwashing that followed.  

Here’s the point: You and I were born under the “agreement” that the US owns the land. Instead, I’m going to tell you something else. It’s important enough to get it’s own line, too:

The United States doesn’t own shit.

The idea of an over-arching “Great Father” government is an agreement most of us continue to buy into. Are you ok with that? I’m not. If Washington is my “Great Father”, then notwithstanding the many luxuries he showers on me after he comes home from his work raiding other lands for oil, he’s a pedophile that requires my silent submission - and I’m not good at either silence or submission. Instead, I feel like a man who is just now remembering abuse he suffered as a small child. The thing is, the Great Father continues to abuse not only me but my siblings the trees, the seas and all of humanity. He pisses in the water that’s easy to get and tries to sell the rest to his buddies. He controls my food, and it gets worse every year. My friends the mammals, reptiles, birds and aquatic life have all cried to him to no avail. In return, I get roads, a relatively stable economy and protection from retaliation from the governments “we” invade. Oh, and by the way, I get to pay for it.  

Thanks for the $5 bill Dad, but it’s not worth the abuse.

This little missive is not really about politics, rebellion, or wrongs committed against Native Americans. It’s really more of a written revelation and confession that I was OK with all the US did and does, that I helped dream it, create it and sustain it; that at some point and in some invisible quantum/time-space/spiritual equation, I was good to go with it. Because of what I’ve read and experienced, I have no choice but to believe that.

So what other dreams am I living that have no basis in objective reality? Are there others that are equally horrific? What else have I agreed to? What have I created? What have I done? What questions can I ask myself to ferret out the beliefs that continue to enslave me? I’m not going to talk about what to do with the answers to those questions because, just like the antidote to many poisonous plants are mere steps away, answers often arise organically with honest questions. Seeing the answers and our aversion to them is also part of the work of growing a soul we can be proud of. So recognition, responsibility and acceptance of what is are the primary subjects of this essay. Suffice it to say that if I can dream the chimera, I know I can dream her Elysian antithesis. 

How about you?

Are you in an abusive relationship – not a metaphorical one, but a real one? Do you hate your work but feel like you “have to” go sit in a cubicle? Are you chronically ill, fatigued? Are your friends more like “frenemies” than soulmates? Is gossip the conversation of the day? Are you addicted to porn, sugar, “that one drink” or the NFL? What is beneath the majesty of your beautiful soul that you continue to engage? Because I’m here to tell you, it’s within your power to change ALL of it. It’s your dream. It’s my dream. It’s our dream…

And it’s time to get a new one.         

--Eric Marley
October 2015

Saturday, September 12, 2015

The Captured: Then and Now

I just finished an audiobook called, "The Captured". It’s a true story of children who were kidnapped in Texas in the 1800s by Comanche or Apaches. The author had a great-great-great uncle who lived with the Comanche for two years before being returned to his original home. The thing is, he never fully recovered. More to the point, he never fit into white culture again, try as he might. Eventually giving up, he, Adolph Corn, lived his last few years in a cave, in solitude. In case after case, the situation was similar, especially for the young men. Within a year or two they had literally forgotten English (or German, as many who were captured were from recently immigrated families) and had fully embraced the Native culture as their own, even with its privations and hardships. One young man was recaptured by the whites and ended up dying, by most accounts, of a broken heart as a 15 year old boy once “reintegrated” into the culture of his birth. Another, Rudolf Fischer, who was captured as a 13 year-old, became as fierce a fighting man as any of the Comanche, and that’s saying something. His long hair, bleached white from the sun, made a stark contrast to his sun-darkened skin and made him into a truly frightful looking apparition of the Southern plains. What would make a child completely reject their birth family and even go so far as to kill those like them in defense of a new life and lifestyle?

I can only venture some guesses, but a few facts stand out. For one, the young men were treated like exactly that: a younger version of a fully-grown man. In a couple instances they were leading war parties by the time they'd been there for only a couple years, usually against the whites, sometimes against their former communities. All the former captives could live off the land indefinitely. Even later in life, relatives reported that one could knock a penny off a stick with an arrow at 20 yards.
Another's hands were so tough from the life he chose even after re-assimilation, that he could pick a live coal out of a fire with his bare hands to light his pipe. Several slept on the ground or outside for the bulk of the rest of their lives. Not because they had to... because they wanted to.

Getting re-assimilated, they asked good questions like, "why would I ever want to go to work for another man?" And, "why should I cut my hair and wear constricting clothes?" Sitting in a classroom amounted to torture. You think YOUR kid is unruly? Try sending an 18 year old - or a 10 year old, for that matter - to school after he knows how to be entirely self-sufficient.

This brings up several points for me. Actually, it brings up the same questions, including that timeless question of middle-aged men: What am I doing? Please forgive me as I publicly self-process. But I think I am not alone here. You might ask yourself the same questions, even if you are not of my gender or age. In fact, I hope you’re younger. Either way, you may have the same observations.

I was the one in the family that got up early as a 12-13 year old, grabbed my shotgun and my dog and went hunting in the fields behind my house to try to kill something before school. I slept outside in the summers often, often alone, and stayed up until 2-3am watching the stars. I read and re-read books about survival, hunting and fishing. I loved being outdoors. But I was also a good boy with a kind heart. I wanted to please my parents, especially my dad. So I did what they wanted me to do. I went to school, then a mission (eventually...kind heart and "pleaser personality" notwithstanding, I was not always an angel). Then I went to college and graduated. According to the convention to which I was now firmly dedicated, I married young but well and had three beautiful kids. For the bulk of my married life I kept pretty hard at recreation, but I was torn between the needs of a growing family and my own desire to be in nature, whether that meant surfing, trail running, hunting, fishing or snowboarding. Sometimes the family came first and sometimes my need to commune with something that was wild within me won out. Looking back, from my early teens until about 2008, my life was about taming this wild thing inside me. The Church mandated it and I made great progress within that paradigm, having deep, meaningful and amazing experiences within it. But some things weren’t meant to be wholly tamed. I submit that our souls are one of those things. Refined? Yes, I think so. But never tamed.

Mary Oliver famously asked, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” If I were to answer that as a member of the temporarily dominant culture today, I would have to say I am going to learn as a child to sit in a square room in rows. I am going to learn to quietly get in line behind my classmates before I leave for lunch, and that if I or my neighbor talks or giggles it will hold us all up. I am going to ask to go to the restroom. I am going to go to the principle’s office for busting my mouthy classmate – who was always one of my best friends – right in the mouth, breaking my hand in the process and then walking back into the classroom with our arms slung around each other like nothing happened (because nothing substantial did). I am going to be asked to get a license or two to fish, several licenses to hunt, one to drive a car, another to get married. I will swallow the treble barbed hook of a mortgage, keeping me from wandering with the seasons or my whims or to cool music festivals. I will eschew any substance or practice that loosens the societal grip on my mind. I’m going to get a job and trade my hours outside for hours inside, where I will make a lot of money for my employer, who will then share some of it with me. But I will still have to tell him when I’m going to the bathroom. In short, I am going to make my wild and precious life tame and homogeneous. Somehow, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one tame and homogeneous life” just doesn’t have the same ring to it. But that is the reality for almost every adult I can name.

And that’s exactly where I’ve been, but at least I know it. I can’t say that for everyone. In fact, I can say that about hardly anyone, statistically speaking, which is why I’m going to share this essay. I had the chance in my early 20’s to change the course of my life. It would have been hard, very uncomfortable, because I had already made commitments. But I had just learned what critical thinking was and had serious questions about life, religion, personal philosophy and path. I had stumbled upon – I still don’t know how – books about real Native Americans written by Charles Eastman and Black Elk. They spoke to me deeply and I read voraciously all I could get my hands on. Pre-fatherhood, I was spending copious amounts of time in the woods outside Seattle, namely Issaquah and North Bend at the base of Mt. Si, scouting for deer, elk, bear and mountain goat to bow hunt. I was happiest outside, but I could not admit it to myself. That was not what I was taught. Therefore, it was not what would make me happy, as contradictory as that is. It was not okay. Therefore, it was irresponsible and wrong. So I stayed on my path toward happiness in the future, in heaven.

Are you like that, too? Are you nearing middle age with the same questions? Or are you younger, but with an old soul that knows that all the purposes of your life can be wrapped up in your own personal happiness, and know that that is EXACTLY how it’s supposed to be? Do you also know that Mary Oliver’s question is the right question – and maybe the ONLY question worth sitting with? Can you relate with a supposedly reclaimed but supremely miserable young man in Texas in the late 1800’s, standing alone in a school yard in anachronistic handmade buckskins, watching his classmates play red-rover and tag, wondering how he could ever be satisfied with that level of play again, when he could now ride bareback, shoot grasshoppers on the fly with his handmade bow and harvest big game to feed his family, not to mention protect them against real danger? Can you see that? More importantly, can you feel it?

Quanah Parker was the product of a family that consisted of a Comanche chief and a kidnapped girl, Mary Parker, who stayed by choice with the Comanche all her days. He is largely credited with being the last Native American chief to surrender to the whites. Quanah begged Rudolf Fisher to go meet his white father when they was found out that Rudolf was still alive. There were political reasons as well as personal ones for this. After multiple refusals, he finally consented to go. But he could not stay long. The freedom he had known was too much. He reintegrated back into Native culture as best he could as it had basically already failed due to pressure from the whites and the murderous effect that had on the land, particularly on the mobile food larder that was the mighty American Bison herd.

I can relate to Rudolf. I also felt freedom, turned myself in, and now I want back out. I am 50 years old, and I publicly and consistently reject this culture in many ways. But more importantly I re-embrace the opposite of the culture - that wild thing within me; the un-tamable part of me that no one, including a brainwashed, substandard version of myself, can smother. I give a nod to the species that have awaited my return, both physical and spiritual, both plant, animal, and mineral. I feel my soul ready to melt back into the sweet soil. I long to hear my boots make sucking noises in the mud as I trudge home in a misting November rain. I am dying to taste wild blackcaps again, and to feel cold on my face that I know I could easily erase… if I only lived in a house instead of a tipi, or had driven my truck to this spot, or hadn’t stayed out so late waiting for that last flock of ducks to set their wings before dusk, a happily shivering, wet retriever by my side and the smell of gunpowder still in my nose.

This is the home of my soul. I have been a captive of the whites and dammit, I am returning home.

PART 2: Let’s Go Together
It may take time to unravel commitments that were made under duress of an insane philosophy, or one bereft of concern for your wild wisdom, or when you were otherwise in a state of confusion. The commitments were real and affect others, some of whom you love deeply. It doesn’t ultimately matter if you go live in a tipi on the edge of Hell’s Canyon in Snake River country in the next few months. The point, the whole point really, is to see the entrapment, the whole sub-sane tragic comedy, and know that at some point the disentanglement is good work for the rest of your life that will, at any rate, slow you from making further entangling, soul-sucking promises. Try to go slow. Be compassionate with yourself if you can’t. In fact, if you ignore my (hypocritical) advice and cut and run without forethought, when everyone else in your life asks why you've gone bonkers (even though they’ll think they have the answers), you have my support anyway – even if it seems unwise to me, too. If your life has become something you don’t want and slowly disentangling is not going to work for you, I am handing you right now a stick of dynamite. You will rebuild with cleaner materials when the dust settles, as it always does. As Don Henley sings in “My Thanksgiving”, “sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge.”

To conclude, you are wild. You are not meant to be tame. You are meant to love deeply and with passion and with abandon. You are related to the hummingbird, the eagle, the bear, the owl and a host of other animals that are hoping and praying that you learn their names, too, for they have so much to teach you. You are meant to feel far more than an air-conditioned office, car and stick-built home will allow. You are a glorious animal, made of the dust of your Mother under the starry, atmospheric hug of your Father. You were made to lift your head and feel the warm sun on your face, and laugh in awe at the wind, and make love under lightning skies. We all were.

The captives came to know it and I am dedicated to remembering it.

How about you?

Friday, September 11, 2015

(D)anger - Essay

(D)anger: A Conversation with MySelf About Frustration with the World As It Is, or
How To Stop Being Self-Righteous and Get Out of My Own Way

It’s time for something different.

We all see it; a world in turmoil. Corruption, greed, avarice, unbridled consumerism, addictions galore…we are made for better. I don’t care if you are Christian, agnostic, atheist, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist; we can agree that the world is a mess and that there has to be a better way.

But here’s where the agreement generally ceases and each philosophy starts naming both the reasons and the repairs, centered as much on the “wrong-ness” or “evil” of the other as much as the merits of their own philosophical or theosophical basis. I am electing not to give examples, but if you look, they are prolific. The “problem” is always “them”. That statement alone betrays an error in thinking. For me, a type of self-righteous frustration can arise, and frankly has been increasing in frequency. I think my experience is not unique.

Here follows an idea. It is not a new one. It’s simply a subtle switch from what we are currently prone to do. It doesn’t try to turn Christians into Muslims, or Atheists into Believers, or hippies into … the opposite of hippies (Dick Cheney, maybe?). It takes each of us where we are and works from there. It is ancient wisdom that has been largely forgotten, but whose time has come again, as if traveling in a great wheel. Go figure.

To explain this idea, I am going to talk to myself. You are free to drop in. It goes a little like this:

“Hey Eric, you need to put away your anger.”

When I hear this, I don’t even need to ask, “What anger?” because as I mentioned, I know in the past year or so I’ve sensed a subtle shift in myself, and I am seeing it among others in the communities I run with. A decrease in patience with others. A desire for greater punishment for breakers of what I/we think the rules of a decent society should be, amounting to a desire for increasing karma terms for career consciousness criminals. But it’s not about the choices others make. It never has been, and it never will be. I know this somewhere back there, past where my mind stops.

I glare back at the Voice.

“Hey Eric, you need to put away your anger,” the Voice says again.

This time I reply. Thinking of the things that are most likely to trigger my frustration, I say to the Voice, “OK, so what am I supposed to do, pray Monsanto into oblivion? Am I supposed to allow Nestle to buy the water coming off sacred Mt. Shasta as I smile love into the faces of the water truck drivers? Let the seas continue to be used as a dumping ground from a drum circle safe on the beach?”

The Voice chuckles at this barrage. “No. You are not supposed to do anything. It’s natural for your love of all the manifestations of Life to increase as you become increasingly aware, and then to allow that love to grow into actions. But you’re preventing that from happening.”

“I’m preventing it? What? No I’m not. I get mad and then I do stuff. What’s wrong with that?”

“Of course that’s not what I said.”

I frown. It’s here that my soul explains to me that seeing my own anger is a way to get at the real underlying issue, which is really within myself, not “out there”. It’s easy to spot because it’s what throws a hard angle, a handle almost, into the way I think about the thing or situation in front of me that I want to believe is causing the angst. Anger, which arises from a lack of inner harmony, is stirred by fear like the wind can make a high mountain lake ripple, or create eighty foot waves in the ocean. Fear is deeper, more elemental than anger. In its most camouflaged state, it hides in memory and justifies its existence in urges and desires; anything to protect itself from being found, even though on some level it wants to be addressed, heard. Fear lives in the deep caves of my subconscious, my soul reminds me. It can be big, toothy and dangerous. Anger, it’s dumber, slower little brother, is far more accessible, and far more prolific. Anger, as the main manifestation for our hidden fears, colors the actions we take and shuts out actions that might actually help shift the reality of the world, which can actually only be done through love, mySelf tells me.

“Wait,” I laugh to the Voice. “Changing the world is going to happen if enough of us control our tempers? Excuse me, but that seems just a little simplistic. In fact, it kind of pisses me off that you would even suggest that.”

“Here’s why it works,” the Voice says to myself, shaking his head in amusement. “Letting go of anger works because everything, simply everything, is made of energy and potentiality. The way we manipulate these is through our intention. This is true on any plane of existence. Emotion, including anger, colors intention. We can do great works, necessary works, but if those actions are held in an intention that is skewed by anger, the actions themselves will have limited benefit at best because the Creator is made of, and responds to, love. At worst, because of the Universal Law of Opposition – that whatever we resist persists and gains strength – we actually make that which we are angry about grow in size and dimension. Which, as you’ve experienced, increases your capability for greater anger. This creates a railroad – or neural pathway - to feed the monster fear in those dark caves you don’t want to venture into. That’s where we find ourselves in the world today. “Justified” anger has been feeding our un-addressed individual fears for so long that we as a world society act in increasingly unconscious ways, with increasingly devastating results. This has resulted in issues so serious that the survival of the species is in question.”

“So,” I say to my wiser Self, “let’s say I put away my anger, and...”

I interrupt myself, “It’s not quite that easy, but continue…”

“I put away my anger and, I don’t know, get involved in a prison outreach program. You’re saying that I will be more effective in a state of “no anger” than if I did it because I was angry about career criminals?

“You glossed right over it,” the Voice says.

“Over what?”

“The point.”

Predictable anger begins to arise again. “Explain please. Dammit.”

“You are not going to just “put away” your anger. This is going to seem a little counter-intuitive, but your anger has a voice and needs to be acknowledged. As the voice of your un-addressed fears, it is sacred. Try to squelch the voices of those fears and they will ooze out the corners of the box you keep them in. Instead, see the anger. And if you can trace it to the fear it is attached to, do that. See the fear and hear it with compassion if you can. And then – actually this will happen simultaneously – love will replace it. The soul, like all of nature, will not tolerate a vacuum. Like air, love fills every empty space where it is not pushed out.”

“But…”

“Let me finish. You generally can’t say “I love, therefore I am healed and can now be effective because my energy has changed and my intention will be pure”. At that point, Love is still likely a mental concept, a nice idea. Better than anger certainly, but ultimately it can be just as attached to fear as anger is. In a relationship, that looks like co-dependence, where each party feeds off the other in ways that make each feel secure, but that ultimately support a state of non-growth. What we want instead is to see the world, not as a place of trouble and “things that piss you off”, but as a field of beauty, where beautiful things happen at will. It requires a complete shift in paradigm where the world is seen as having Innate Beauty. The difference is that the truth of Innate Beauty has to be FELT. Right now, what is “felt” is anger and frustration, and we know in a mental way that the world can be a beautiful place. We have to switch that around. We have to FEEL the beauty and harmony around us, and acknowledge that fear and anger can look really real. But the reality is the beauty, not the fear and anger. Does that make sense?”

“It’s starting to,” I say to the Voice. “But it still sounds totally contradictory in some ways. You say that emotion colors intention and action, and that anger is the voice of my un-addressed fears. OK, I can accept that. But then you say I have to acknowledge them and hear them but I guess, not act from them?”

“Right. The way to use that anger is not in an outward motion, directed at what you think you’re mad about. The healthier way is to go inward, and see what it is that is triggering the anger- which fear is speaking - and sit with it compassionately. When the fear is heard enough, when it is done speaking and understood and accepted, love naturally fills that space. But the key is to sequester yourself when addressing your fears – do it in a sacred space at home or church or in nature – so that your fears don’t end up coloring your intentions and actions. Make sense?”

I think for a while about this. “So you’re saying that when I get all worked up about the Syrian refugee crisis and I want to get mad at the governments of the world that caused all this pain, the thing to do is to see where within myself the anger or frustration is arising and address that rather than working directly on the problem itself? Rather than writing a congressman or giving money? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I’m saying that unless you see the roots of your own fear first, your efforts will be of limited effect. You will, to put it I the vernacular of the Toltec shamans, be buying into the same “dream” that created the refugee crisis in the first place. You will be giving it energy, fighting it and therefore, strengthening it to an extent.”

“Do I really have time to address all my fears before I do anything? I mean, that might take a minute…”

“You are not alone and “fixing things” is not your job. You are here on earth to heal, period. As you do, love will fill you. And then it will inform you. It will tell you what to do. You will operate outside mores, convention and even in some instances, the law of the land because you will answer to a higher law. Not one that is written anywhere, but your own law, the law of love. It’s the law that Ghandi and Mandela answered to, that of Jesus and Harriet Tubman. You’ll know it is love because it harmonizes with people, even if it creates disharmony with the established order and those tied to it, blinded or distracted by it. Your actions will bring beauty. They will inspire others because their own souls will recognize the voice of your actions. Harmony, rather than disharmony, disunion, anger, will begin to fill the lower spaces occupied by pure souls like water, a drop at a time. It is done an individual at a time, a moment here, an afternoon there.”

“Wow, it sounds so beautiful. So organic, and clean, and healthy. But that’s what I was going to ask again. I mean, I don’t have time to do all this… healing, do I? I mean, as the world goes to hell I’m supposed to go walk on a trail?”

“Remember, you are not the doctor of the Earth or the Universe! Both are self-healing. But if you want to assist, heal yourself and the Universe will then direct you about what to do because you will no longer be fighting it, swimming angrily upstream. Take a moment and see where you spend your time. Facebook? Popular music, or television, or movies? I think you’ll see – in fact I know you will – plenty of areas where you can insert stillness to use to address fears or cultivate love rather than constantly distracting yourself.”

“Huh… it sure seems like a lot more fun to go blow up a dam.”

“Well, yes… but do you want to have fun and create pain or be aligned and healthy and happy and full of joy?”

“I think I see your point.”

“There’s a woman named Gabriela Andreevska. She is a woman dedicated, for now, to helping the Syrian refugees. She is motivated almost entirely by love in this regard. You can google her.”

“Has she addressed all her fears, then?”

“Oh, not by a long ways. One doesn’t have to be without fear to look fearless. Perfection is not required. She came to a point in her life where love had filled, drop by drop, the seemingly empty places in her soul that vacated by the fear she once felt. She still has a long way to go to lose ALL her fear, but enough has been heard by her scary monsters that it changed the balance of power within herself. She sees now with another set of eyes far more often than she did with her old eyes that saw only problems caused by others.”

“Oh that reminds me, I know I’ve felt the truth of the teaching that our problems are never about other people. But I don’t understand it. If a guy comes and punches me in the face for no reason, it seems like that’s a problem caused by someone else, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s not easy to grasp from where you sit, but the guy won’t come punch you in the face for no reason. Ever. There is always a lesson to be learned, a truth to be reiterated, a dream to be fulfilled, or it does not happen. He doesn’t come hit you unless you create him first.”

“A dream to be fulfilled? That’s a laugh! I don’t think…”

“Nightmares are dreams, are they not?”

“Oh. Right. And I guess to your point, what society has collectively dreamed, so to speak, is a nightmare. So I guess that what you’re saying is that if enough people address their own fear by hearing their anger, by doing the solitary work, it will work the same way as the little drops within ourselves that eventually turn us more to love than fear. It will be like that for the world, where enough people have healed that it just changes things; a new reality will simply emerge. And it will happen organically, and won’t make sense to people who are fear and anger based.”

“Correct. It’s what Jesus spoke about when he said the meek will inherit the earth, and that the foolish things of the world will confound the wise. It’s the real meaning behind the 2012 prophesies, Hopi lore, Andean shamanic wisdom and the second coming of Jesus.“

“Wow… well, it makes sense when you say it like that, I guess. Sure pisses me off that it took me this long to figure it out though,” I said to myself with an ironic smile as I sit alone in the late afternoon, pine-filtered sun on the bank of a small creek in the foothills outside my home in Bend, Oregon.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Air - Prose



Air

And when I awoke I saw
That all the practices of all the
The earnest people
Were made of the same air.

It was the same air.

The same -
That swirled around the hands
Of the culted practitioners,
That swished around the cloak
Of the friar,
That blew into the mesa
Of the Laika,
That eased as Ohm from the smile
Of the Lama,
Exhaled as prayer from the mouth
Of the Imam,
Smiled out of the blissed joy
Of the yogi,
Fell in chants from the tongue
Of the Hindu,
Yelled hallelujah from the lungs
Of the Christian,
Was displaced by the lovers wrapped
In sacred, forested Pagan ritual…

It was the same.

The air existed with or without these
People;
Was indifferent to their
Holiness

It was all the same.

The sacred air,
That gifted space,
That kindly bubble
That surrounds in gentle hug
Gaia, Earth, Pachamama, Unci…
Was merely the breath of Creator
And what we humans chose to do in it
Made no difference to S/he
Other than for the humans themselves
To grow or not
To die or not
To be reborn or not
But certainly to experience

For to play in the breath of Creator
The holy air we breathe
Was the whole of Its purpose
To give “Us” a place to go
So that each could return
And know that we had never left
And to learn that all the actions taken
While in the story
Were only that -

A story to be told -

Around deep campfires
Lit by twinkling stars
Carried on the breath
Of those profound
Weary
Humble
Courageous
Travelers
As we await
The lost pieces of ourselves
To return from the darkness
And tell us
Yet another
Story.


--Eric Marley
September 2015