The Edge

photo credit:  Cornel Pufan

As we move through our continuums, even on a daily basis, we come into contact with personal edges.  Energetic edges happen when a vibration becomes a challenge in us, usually brought on by ambivalence, two opposites occurring at once, or a deep seated fear or challenge to a belief system.  Often, one or two aspects of our self meets this “crisis” and more often than not, there is no reconciliation factor to transform the edge.  A common example could be, our physicality reaches an edge (ie: exhaustion) and the mind and or the heart meet it (with “I can’t go on.” or “I must go on.”).  The edge is tenuous, it could go either way depending on the supporting/non-supporting aspects.  A strong motivated mind or emotion could be the factor that gets us past the physical edge.  And a non-committal or unengaged mental or emotional stance will do otherwise.  Another example could be a fatigued mind can’t get through a mental problem it faces, and the emotional center of ourselves is of no help as it despised the problem to begin with and the body, weakened by the mind’s momentary fatigue collapses as well.

photo credit:  Michael Karcz

We don’t recognize our edges.  They are uncomfortable and frequently downright scary (as said, they often are a challenge to a deep seated belief).  A common response to meeting an unconscious edge in ourselves is to get reactive, confused and ultimately turn away from the friction (vibration) created.  So the edge remains latent in us until the next surfacing. 

The power of edges is of course the energy generated there.  The transformation of an edge is the awareness we are there and the courage not to turn away.

Like most things of importance, meeting and transforming an edge takes practice.  We have to come up to it and turn away umpteen times, priming an inner awareness of it.  Breaking that cycle (because it occurs so frequently with a particular edge) is an exercise of patience for an inner life.  Knowing I ultimately have to bring other aspects of myself to the edge besides the one that gets me there is useful.

So, I start out doing an “impossible” task, one I’ve never done, have no familiarity or seeming aptitude for and hence feel supremely uncomfortable in the approach.  It’s a task I have never attempted out of decades of deep seated fear and layers of complex beliefs.  But, my mind knows it has to be done, there is no not doing it.  My body is sort of curious about this new never-been-done-before quest and is somewhat willing because it is supported by the determined mind.  The emotional center of myself is fully crazed about the prospect, has dug in her heels and can be heard whining about it almost constantly, nay-saying and dooms-daying as we start to move through the steps of the task.  Normally, all the ruckus the emotions create would stop the rest of me in my tracks.  But the methodical mind is on a roll.  And wisely, she hasn’t taken her usual imperious stance, dominating the rest of me.  She takes a wise-parent approach and this makes all the difference.  She keeps moving forward doing the laid out steps (with the help of the able and curious body), while cajoling the emotional part.  “We’re just going to do this for three hours today, it might be sort of fun. We’ll make no determinations, we’re just trying an experiment.”  

photo credit: Sterni

The three hours experience could be likened to dragging a full cart with no wheels.  It is like a flailing child on my left hip, causing me to do a sort of Igor/Frankenstein walk, dragging this besides-herself-little-one clinging, kicking and screaming.  There is a general feeling of supreme discomfort, even pain.  Confusion sets in in increments and I have an impression of being on the deck of a boat on a rolling ocean. Something in me knows the confusions and overwhelm are part and parcel of the effort and not to spend too much time trying to unravel them. Parts of myself are internally cowering, pretending they are stupid and don’t know anything.  This “I don’t know anything!” drama I find is actually helpful; my past indoctrination says, when you are a rank novice at something, mistakes are allowed, mercy is shown, the boom doesn’t get lowered.  Wow! It’s ok not to know. 

The three hours are up, I pack ‘us’ into the car.  There is a visceral sensation I am all in pieces, kind of shredded, and the main impression I have of myself.  I do a lot of inner cooing and reassuring on the way home, actually talking aloud:  “Ok. THATS over.  We’re done for the day, on our way home now.  We did great! We’ll have some nice tea when we get there and take the rest of the day off.  We won’t think or do anything else about this for now.”  Something in me is dutiful to this; faintly tempted to consider doing some thinking work on the process, she just lets it go.  There would be time for this action in awhile when most of me was feeling more settled, less shredded.

photo credit:  Barbara Corvine

There are a lot of edges in this.  Not only the ‘impossible’ task at the center, but experiencing the emotional dramas of the small child that still lives and her bounty of extreme impressions and reactions.  Also, the benevolent parent who somehow doesn’t marginalize the wailing child, but just keeps moving forward with a type of empathy for the fear-ridden.  That there were beginnings, middles and definite ends in the steps was enormously helpful; it provided lampposts (a short term goal) to get to and complete.  The practice of doing this exercise multiple times was great for the whole, because they all came to know it was survivable.  We would get through this, we did it before.  Each time, a new step became a bit more detailed and “serious”.  Each time newish terrors would surface, the intimidation factor would become more heightened.  And each time the benevolent parent would rise to the occasion, “It’s ok. We can do this.  It is terrifying.  We’re in this together.”

Part of meeting and transforming this edge was not getting bogged down in the smokescreens other parts of the self would create (the usual “turn away” factor).  They were noted, sometimes momentarily overwhelming, but not distracting enough to derail the intention set.  The presence of someone compassionate and benevolent, not willing to annihilate the ruckus-causing parts for her own purposes was also very unifying.  A sense even the disruptive have a place in the process, a voice to be recognized, a value-- significantly diffuses the power of the ensuing polarized anarchy. It was a joint effort, no Lone Ranger in sight.

Possibly, the transformation of an edge is a rite of passage.  There is no doubt it is entering a crucible of sorts; there is a combustible incineration process, pain and suffering is guaranteed.  But the sense of liberation and the infusion of a clear, bright energy once one has stepped through that door is an experience of tasting the magnificence of being Alive.  Once done, the possibility of navigating the course of an edge undeniably exists. It is also gives a perspective that illusions abound and confirms I may be living much of my life behind a veil.

Dynamics of an Inner Call

I probably should be a little ashamed to say there are very few books inspiring enough to return to again and again.  M. P. Pandit's, Dynamics of Yoga is one such book,  even if one doesn't consider oneself a dedicated Yogi.  Why is this book so compelling?  For me what is so powerful, besides his honest straightforward observations about yoga practice, is that you can feel the man in the page.  A lot of writers say a lot of smart, wise things.  But their written 'truths' are often an attempt to understand. Writing can frequently become a subtle disguise of wanting to know.  Pandit is not preachy, he's just himself; a 'himself' that is loaded with understanding.  Whenever I need a reality check or reminder, I pick this book up.

"I give what I really want so that one day they may want what I really want to give.... This is a great spiritual truth.  The Divine gives in order to create a link with us so that even by that external contact some communication is established as a result of which one day an identity can take place."

I've had a meditation practice for almost 35 years.  As would be expected, this practice has changed, faltered, evolved, seemingly devolved, looked and behaved differently over the decades.  Sometimes, I need some reassurances.

"It is necessary to sit for meditation regularly so that the habit is created and when a continued state of receptivity is required for the higher consciousness to descend into you and work in you, you are not found wanting.  You can immediately put yourself into a poise where undistracted by anything else you are in a position to receive what comes and let it work in you.  Length of time is not as important as the cultivation of a habit of meditation from this point of view...... It is the spirit of the prayer room, the spirit of meditation, that has to be carried bodily into the place of work and the place of the work has to be turned into a veritable place for meditation to be rendered into dynamic work."

It is often interpreted in most teachings, the body is considered a lesser aspect of a human's whole (in spiritual terms).  Those on a quest of the spirit often fall into a disregard to the here and now of the body.  Besides its way of waking us up to the present and reacquainting us with its relationship to the spirit, the body has a relationship to an embodied consciousness, .
"... The body also is a form of God, not the soul alone.  The physical body is after all the base that determines the health of the various other bodies that are erected on the foundation of the physical...[the Mother] believed,-- and I have seen possible, that by certain controlled movements of the body and the limbs, it is possible to awaken what is called the physical consciousness, that part of the consciousness localised in the material body."

Grappling with the concept of faith in practice sometimes leads one into a mired quandary. Pandit clarifies with simplicity.  "... faith is a conviction that is spontaneously there in the being.  It is a reflection of the soul's knowledge, the soul's perception of something that is yet to be realized by the rest of the being.  This reflection of the soul's knowledge in any part of the being carries a conviction about its certitude.  We may not be able to explain why it is so, but it does carry that certitude."

In all practices, there is a relinquishing of control, a let go.  This is an experience of levels, a necessary meeting of the lower to higher, the coarse to fine, the outer to the inner.
"Surrendered doesn't mean that you surrender your judgements, or your discrimination.  Surrender means the submission of your individual puny will [to that] which you recognize to be greater than yours. You turn your will for action to the vibrations of a higher will so that the higher may work through you. Your preferences, your likes and dislikes, your choices-- it is these that should be surrendered to the higher wisdom. The higher wisdom indeed works for your own welfare, and for the total welfare, much better than what you could with your limited intelligence.  Activity, however, must go on; on the plea that one has surrendered, one should not just remain passive.  The Mother points out that you sink into inertia if you sit back saying 'let God's will be done.'  It has to be an active surrender, a dynamic surrender.  You must place your enlightened will at the disposal of the higher will and continue to follow its guidance, to translate the command from above into day to day action."

Living in this way can seem quite counter to ordinary daily life.  Yet, Pandit's tone is always encouraging,  hopeful and steeped in kindness.  His is a voice worth revisiting time and again.

Dispassionate Empathy

This oxymoronic term resonates curiously with what is (possibly) true.  And the seeming truth of dispassionate empathy is that it is momentary, usually fleeting and almost always misunderstood.  Why is this?  Dispassionate empathy is a delicate (yet powerful) experience that can never be static, contrived or a destiny to be reached.  Like presence or wisdom, it's a movable feast, something we travel in and out of on a momentary basis.  Our human propensity is to make and understand things hard and fast, to have things known, to be static; black and white.  Dispassionate Empathy can not be a given known.  It's an experience in an often 'gray' moment, not be harnessed.

dis·pas·sion·ate  not influenced by strong feeling; especially : not affected by personal or emotional involvement*

Dispassion is a place a lot of caretakers find themselves after having their compassion take one too many trips on the heart-pull roller coaster.  It's a survival place, a space to operate from where one can feel accomplished in their skill efficacy without taking the risk of entering the healing relationship.  It keeps them emotionally safe, fairly free of confusion and armored to the hilt.  Being habitually armored is a slow, numbing soul death, not to be wished on anyone. All caretakers are required to be compassionate, yet struggle to maintain a professional distance to avoid over-involvement.  This is between a rock and a hard-place.  Burnout is a given when sitting between these two stools, or hanging open or closed hearted; it is to be expected when a study and a practice of a therapeutic (double sided) empathy has not been seriously undertaken.

em·pa·thy: 1. the imaginative projection of a subjective state into an object so that the object appears to be infused with it;  2. the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner*

I almost did not include the first definition of empathy above, as it seems to be counter to the second definition.  But I am curious and appreciate the other side of the coin, as it completes the entirety and ultimately the whole rings more true.  The imagination (being an integral part of the human makeup) is open to coincide with being available to impressions.  In that act, one's knowledge/experience base is recognized and tweaked; one feels a twinge of familiarity.  Having experienced well a feeling scenario one can:  project it onto another (if a healing hasn't been had and self asks to go there again to be healed) or if a healing has been had, one usually feels compelled to merely be with it while witnessing another find their way, somewhat separated and internally active while being externally passive (another intriguing oxymoron!).

This is a practice.  It's also a spiritual quest.  The spirit is infused in the back-and-forth of the dual action/effort of separating and resonating.  Listening, staying close to the response (not the reaction), witnessing the pull and resistance that moves from inside to out and back again.  The practice of dispassionate empathy is allowing light to filter into the quiet of an observation, remembering one's place, applying restraint when necessary and affirmation otherwise.  Mostly, dispassionate empathy is about maintaining one's inner and outer vertical, losing it and reclaiming it again, repeatedly.  It is a practice.  Some moments we are better at it than others.  When it arrives, we hope to celebrate its manifestation.  When our personal tension keeps it at bay, we hope to forgive ourselves.


* m-w.com