What the Squirrel Taught Me

Sitting at my desk in my home office, I have a view of our little garden in the back of our home and of the Salem River beyond. It’s easy to take for granted because my mind is always occupied with the work-related task at hand. But I usually take moments to notice our  neighbors drop in at our garden – squirrels, occasional butterflies, blue jays, orioles, and seagulls.

One morning, about a month ago, a squirrel had busied himself in one of our flower pots digging for food, I guess….I don’t know what else squirrels would dig for. Anyway, the pot contained only soil, nothing else. I watched him dig furiously as dirt spat up from his swiping paws. I admired his tenacity while knowing he would never hit pay dirt (sorry, couldn’t resist).

Not wanting to see him waste any more of his energy I went out and shushed him away. I returned to my desk, looked out the window, and there he was, back at it again. I went out a second time and gently chased him away after explaining to him that I was only doing it so he wouldn’t keep wasting time on a fruitless project.

He returned again to the pot, determined to defy the efforts of benevolent intervention. I just watched. He would have to discover his futility on his own.

We learn by the teachings of the carrot and the stick, incentive and consequence. Life offers us choices and our choices are the methods applied for our learning and growth.

It’s said that Earth is a schoolroom and we come here to learn lessons that aid our spiritual evolution. Nature has countless lessons to teach if we register for Her classes. The squirrel is one of my teachers. The squirrel taught me that it’s important to know when to keep digging, and when to move on.

Learning to Listen Again

Solomon is a zen baby. He is always at peace, quietly immersed in his moments of being a baby. Caroline and I find parenting very easy because of Solomon’s lovely disposition and our teamwork (although, I have to admit that our teamwork is 85% Caroline, 15% percent me, and 100% Solomon).

Last week, however, on August 23rd, Solomon was anything but peaceful. The morning went smoothly as usual. I was in my home office working and Caroline was upstairs mothering Solomon. At some point, don’t know when, early afternoon I’m guessing, Solomon could not be put down in his baby rocker without him crying in fits of agitation. Only when he was in his mother’s arms or mine was he ok. This continued throughout the entire day into the night.

At around 3:30pm on that afternoon my mother called to ask if I had heard about the earthquake in NY, where she lives. I hadn’t. Even though I work online I had not checked out any news.

‘It scared me,’ she said, with the anxiety still obvious in her voice. ‘It was a 5.9.’

I quickly went to news site and sure enough there was a quake that rocked D.C., New York, even as far north as Boston. I had no idea.

I hung up the phone after our talk and continued working. Later, well into the night, I joined Caroline and Solomon. The baby was still in fits, but only when Caroline attempted to put him down.

It then struck me that the possibility of Solomon in some way sensing the disturbance of the earthquake was behind his extreme agitation. I cannot, of course, say this with 100% certainty but I don’t believe in coincidences. And if animals can sense subtle energetic shifts and disturbances, even before an actual event, then who’s to say Solomon didn’t.

In fact, I believe we all have this innate sense of things that fall outside of the realm of 5-sensory perception. And through many factors, which can be summed up as the distracting, disruptive elements of modern living, we become disconnected from our intuition. Intuition can atrophy if not tapped and exercised regularly.

However, intuition can be revived in us as well. Time, commitment, diligence, and open-mindedness are needed but it can happen. I should know, because I had to learn, or re-learn, to listen in this way again. Yet, I too fall into the dizzying pace of modernity so that I grow relatively insensible to more subtle transferences of thought and energy.

My intuitive sense is always strongest whenever I live, or at least remain for a time, in the country in the midst of natural surroundings. It is more than the quiet and ease of being among the denizens of Nature. I believe that more than the physical surroundings, it is the spiritual or energetic womb which make me more predisposed to subtle receptivity and non-sensory awareness and communication. Being closer to my origin of being in terms of the pristine energetic web of consciousness woven among the trees, flowing waters, uncultivated earth, and wild animals bring me into closer  touch with that part of me that breathed, and still does, before this earth-bound life.

Essentially, I am born again in Nature, an infant in perpetuity. Solomon, like all children, represent the wild and free in all of us who have grown up and maybe lost touch. I learn, and more often remember, so much from observing Solomon and imbibing the pure waters of his life. He reminds me what it means to live in the moment, to see, hear, and absorb each falling grain of time’s sand with total wide-eyed awareness and receptivity.

I am revived and learning to listen again.

9/11 Wine: The Grapes of Wrath

The recent reports of the introduction of ’9/11 Memorial Commemorative Merlot’ and ‘Memorial Commemorative Chardonnay’ by Lieb Family Cellars, a Long Island winery, has inspired reactions ranging from rage to disgust to macabre curiosity. The wine producer’s intention behind the sale of the wine is, at least partially, to raise funds for the National September 11 Memorial and Museum to which 6% to 10% of the sales proceeds will be donated. Anthony Bourdain, the chef and author whose show ‘No Reservations’ can be seen on the Food Network, has added his two cents to the public outrage by declaring the marketing ploy, as some are calling it, as ‘vomit inducing’ and ordered the restaurant where he once worked, Les Halles, to remove it from its list. Apparently, they did.

The ploy, if indeed that’s what it amounts to, has certainly raised the public profile of the winery, in which case, making their high-publicity move a success. In marketing, any kind of press, good or bad, is good press.

My thoughts about this, though, center around the reactions of the public, the media, and celebrities. I find the ire raised by 9/11 wine to be both understandable and yet, curious. Certainly, Lieb Family Cellars can be accused of taking advantage of an event that was a horrific national trauma, a culturally offensive move worthy of harsh criticism and maybe condemnation. But in time, once the current wrath dies down and the news cycle has moved on the next and newest sideshow, people will forget and life will have moved on.

However, how does the 9/11 Commemorative wine differ in principle from the many instances of similar exploitations for the sake of profit and entertainment?

For instance, and I will cite several, Americans enjoy professional sports teams that bear offensive references to the dignified Indigenous peoples of the North American continent ravaged by genocide and, for their survivors, extreme marginalization – the Cleveland Indians, the Washington Redskins, the Atlanta Braves (whose fans display the ‘Tomahawk Chop’ during games), the Chicago Blackhawks, to name only a few. And in college sports – the St. John’s Redmen, Florida State Seminoles, among many others.

What about the co-opting of the language of the Indigenous peoples of this continent? Massachusetts, Connecticut, Iowa, Michigan, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Nebraska, Arizona, Wisconsin, Illinois, Mississippi – examples of lands whose names are extracted from the vocabulary of the very people those lands originally and rightfully belong to.

What about publicity-producing moves by savvy celebrities who recognize the American public will gravitate to ‘freakshow’ demonstrations that are crafted with the intention of drawing attention and garnering sales?

Lady Gaga wearing a dress made of raw meat or bearing dysmorphic prostheses to suggest horns on her head and grotesque protrusions from other parts of her body; Madonna, whose provocatively paradoxical public name is itself offensive to many Catholics, publishing a book about her sexual expressions and wearing outfits of contradiction featuring crucifixes and dominatrix attire; Andy Golub’s bodypainting of nude models for public display; Andy Kaufman wrestled women and faked very real-looking public fisticuffs with Jerry Lawler on the David Letterman Show; the outlandish, to some, costumes of Liberace or Elton John; even non-celebrities got in on the act as evidenced by the father in Colorado who faked the homemade hot-air balloon carrying away his 6 year old son in an effort to get a tv show; and of course, the entire universe of ‘reality tv’ where participants are often encouraged by producers, or self-motivated, to be controversial, contentious, and comedic just for higher ratings.

Two movies from the 70′s showed us, astutely, the cynicism of our age – ‘Network’ and ‘Taxi Driver’. In the former, a cleverly ambitious news executive, played brilliantly by Faye Dunaway, exploits what appears to be the gradual and very public emotional and mental collapse of its news anchor; and in the latter, we witness the progressive derangement of a New York City cab driver whose social alienation, discontent and increasing paranoia drive him to murder at which point, and only then, does he gain any recognition on the front-pages of sensationalism.

Circuses, which for millenia have offered rings of entertainment, now typically three, force animals, once wild, always sensitive and beautiful, into the captive life of transient, depressing servitude, forced to perform for the delight of a squealing public.

We cheer and yell as men, and women too, battle each other in rings and cages, exchanging blows and blood.

When boycotts are organized by special-interest groups protesting an offensive display of some kind through cinema or song, the lines of people buying tickets grows; when rappers claim to have a ‘beef’ with each other, whether real or staged, album sales go up; when a politician or media figure (think George Wallace or Rush Limbaugh) does or says something offensive it strengthens their base as their detractors grow more vehemently vocal.

In so many ways we see reflections of a national soul still seeking a cohesive identity that remains elusive. And maybe that is the point – to retain the diversity, even to extreme degrees, to reinforce to the individual that he has a vein in the nation’s circulation of ideas and aspirations into which he can inject his own personality and narrative. In a pool of myriad creative expressions, political philosophies, and shifting policies at all levels – personal, institutional, local, regional, national – we are invited to observe, to consider, to reflect, to define, to initiate, and to react however choose.

But I wonder how much time and space of silence we are taking to carefully weigh our contribution to a society that seems to be falling apart in all directions? How much responsibility are we willing to admit for what we perceive as social ills – or social evolution? After all, the whole is the sum of its parts and in the case of modern America it may be the case that the whole is far less than the sum of its parts.

Our greatest resource, as a nation, is not the U.S. Constitution, not our military might, not the free market economy, nor our democracy or historical republicanism – no.

Our greatest resource as a nation is what it is for the world, for all races, tribes, communities, and times – it is the individual. It is the individual mind that imagines and discovers, the heart that feels and reaches out compassionately, the soul that embraces, with or without understanding, saying yes to all. It is the child whose ideas of peace, however seemingly simplistic and fanciful, must be heard and integrated meaningfully into the efforts and halls of diplomacy; it is the mother, the wife, whose toils, always with tomorrow in view, have so much wise counsel to add to our global complexion; it is the man whose way of being, when balanced between the active masculine and receptive feminine energies, has much more to offer than the false promises of patriarchy.

So, as each of us gives thought to any issue of our time, or of our day, whether major or minor, let us inject our personal soul into the makeup of thought and carefully consider, with a more thoughtful view of things, whether we ourselves have any share of the judgments and condemnation we project onto others.

More importantly, let us, when viewing others admirably – especially public figures from ‘God’ to the celebrated artist to the President – look for in our own selves the same qualities, the same DNA, and the same potential for greatness and genius. In doing so, it just may be that the world of people and achievements we deem worthy of celebration and emulation will include, and even be led, by us.

Praise One Another

Last night I was speaking with a friend of the heart, Moon, who lives and teaches yoga in California. In the conversation he mentioned an old friend from college, Jeff, whose music production company yielded a Grammy Award and has led to opportunities to work with National Geographic. Moon mentioned to me how proud he was of Jeff and that he told him so, leading to further discussion of the need for us – as men, women, Black, Brown, White – to esteem one another highly and applaud our efforts and achievements.

We contrasted the act of praise with its antithesis – criticism and negation – illustrated by another mutual friend who had been quite critical of my spiritual journey, dismissing it as frivolous and wasteful. What he doesn’t realize, which Moon and I discussed, is that my journey, no matter what how looping its complexity, stands as a mirror reflecting back to him the indictable image of his fear-induced stagnation.

Acknowledge one another. Praise one another. It’s as simple as that. Acknowledge. Praise. Express appreciation and gratitude for one another, for whatever we may see, whatever we can point out that we sincerely value, admire, and respect. Words of appreciation, of gratitude, of praise act as a balm to the soul in need of healing from the inundation of modernity’s viral attacks. They enlighten and inspire both speaker and hearer.

Many  in modern society are far quicker to judge and condemn others for flaws and mistakes, real or perceived, than they are to acknowledge them for their virtues and achievements. By being so critical of one another we lower the bar of expectation and raise the level of cynicism now rampant in society. We see this reflected in the media, ‘reality tv’, business, and, of course, politics.

What is the remedy? Should the government step in and pass legislation banning criticism and cynicism?

Don’t laugh, because steps have been taken already that set the preconditions for this kind of political posturing. We now have, for example, laws against ‘hate speech’ which can never, will never, address the core causes that give rise to invectives, insults, and threats hurled with the same ease and thoughtlessness as the fists of a schoolyard bully. You cannot legislate against fear, ignorance, or misunderstanding (or can you?) so the answer, according to government and special interests, is to prohibit the miscommunication that is merely the symptom of an internal but acquired condition.

That’s really what lies at the heart of ‘hate speech’ – holding a twisted, deformed image of ourselves, like the picture of Dorian Gray, that sees only our flaws while vainly attempting to hide it from seeing eyes so we project onto others the vileness of our seeing until it as all we see in all that is around us. The deeper truth to the saying, ‘misery loves company’ is the acquired, conditioned hatred of and hostility toward the self.

The dangers in this self-directed abhorrence and the vain attempts at external controls are many, but one I will mention is that suppressing speech does not address, much less eliminate, the thought causes and, like the pressure build-up of trapped steam, will eventually explode into more aggravated acts against the ‘other’.

The remedy to our modern cynicism and misery is necessarily individual in scope starting with you, with me. And, much like the misguided target of speech through legislative action, it can start with your words.

When we praise one another, truly, we praise ourselves because not only are we inextricably linked so that the part really does affect the whole but we are, in the energetic realm, one and thus, the part is the whole.

My Own Unfinished Work

Earlier today I was reflecting on a recent relationship – the doings of it while in it and the way it ended.

I knew, in spite of appearances to others, especially since we were the ‘it’ couple of our community, that it was a relationship whose bond was based on certain mutual interests and not on the fearless opening of the heart to love, to one another, and as such was tenuous at best.

I felt I was ready for love, and truly I was, but I could not help but think, reflecting as I often do, that I experienced a mirror image of myself – a self unknown, hidden, that needed to come to light because of my commitment to my growth, and my love and respect for truth.

Even in the midst of what I knew was a dead relationship I listened for the whispers of truth revealing the shadows in my own being that I observed in my partner at the time, and often resented her for. I knew that the twisted, garish dishonesty I saw in her was only an echo of my own unfinished work.