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[post_content] => After two years of studying plant and soil sciences, my favorite professor, Dr. Barker, offered me a job on the University of Massachusetts farm. Whereas my previous jobs had been things like bagging groceries and washing dishes, this was the first time I was getting paid to do something I was interested in, and under the supervision of someone I looked up to.
I was nervous when I showed up at Bowditch Hall on my first day. Dr. Barker, a white-haired man with a country drawl, introduced me to his assistant, Kathy. Then he handed me the keys to a faded old, blue truck and asked me, “Ever driven a three-on-the-tree?” I had never driven any kind of truck before, much less one with the gearshift on the steering column, but I learned quickly as I drove the three of us – with lots of jerking and stalling – out to the farm.
Standing at the edge of a freshly plowed field, Dr. Barker explained that we were going to use stakes and twine to mark out rows for planting seeds. Kathy and I got to work while he watched. The only trouble was, while I had stakes, a mallet, and a ball of twine, I didn’t have anything to cut the twine with. I thought maybe I had spaced out when someone explained where to find a knife or scissors. Or maybe the professor had told me to bring my own knife and I had forgotten. I was too uncomfortable to say anything.
Wondering if there was some way I could proceed with my task without a cutting tool, I pounded the first stake into the ground. I tied one end of the twine around it, walked the length of the field, pounded in another stake, wrapped the twine around that stake, pulled it taut, and then I just squatted there for a few moments. I considered trying to gnaw through it with my teeth, but dismissed the idea as totally unprofessional. Finally, at the risk of appearing unprepared, I called out to Kathy, who was a dozen paces away, “Do you have a knife?”
“Huh?” she turned around and squinted at me in the bright sun. “Oh.” She ambled over, fished around in her pocket, and passed me a pink disposable lighter.
I interpreted this unexpected response to mean, “I don’t have a knife, but I can see what you need there. You’re going to have to burn through the twine with this. At the ends of every row.” She gave me the lighter in such a matter-of-fact way that I thought it would be too weird to ask for a different explanation.
So, feeling like I didn’t have enough hands, I held the twine straight out from the stake, positioned the flame beneath it, and tried to shield it from the wind with my leg. It blew out a couple times, but I eventually managed to burn through it. Meanwhile Dr. Barker had wandered over to observe me and remarked, “That is the strangest way of doing that I have ever seen.”
“Um. I didn’t have a knife,” I said sheepishly.
“Well, I’ve got a knife you can use.”
“Me too,” offered Kathy.
And that’s how, on the first day of my first important job, I believed I must have convinced my boss that I was an absolute idiot. By the way, if you’re wondering why Kathy handed me that lighter, these were the days when smoking was still quite common. She was a smoker and must have thought I said, “Do you have a light?”
The whole thing turned out to be a good lesson for me. By avoiding an uncomfortable conversation, I ended up in even more discomfort.
I resolved to speak up and break through the tension of misunderstanding in the future. I can’t say I’ve always done this, because it takes bravery, and sometimes I chose to stay in my (dis-)comfort zone. But I can say that I’ve never regretted it. Usually there’s an immediate diffusion of tension, and even when there isn’t, at least the truth is out and there’s an opening for resolution. This is especially true when we bring an attitude of curiosity and aim to understand the other person.
Is there anywhere in your life where you’ve left something unsaid because of your resistance to the discomfort of speaking those words and the feelings that may follow? I want to challenge you to make a communication this week that takes you a bit outside your comfort zone. Even if you have to say, “I’m really nervous about saying this” or you have to hold a friend’s hand while doing it, it’s worth it.
Be well,
Peter
[post_title] => Uncomfortable Conversations: Diffuse the Discomfort by Speaking Up
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[post_content] => I feel the more we celebrate, the better our quality of life. And there are two holidays worth taking time out for this week. Today, June 19th is Juneteenth, and Tuesday, June 21st is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. I think it’s appropriate that Juneteenth falls so close to the summer solstice, because both symbolize a certain abundance of light.
Juneteenth is a celebration of the emancipation of African American slaves. Throughout the Civil War, many slaveholders moved to remote areas to escape the fighting and hold onto their slaves. When Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation went into effect on January 1, 1863, nothing changed where it wasn’t enforced. This was especially the case in Texas, where there were still a quarter million slaves in 1865, even after General Lee surrendered the Confederacy.
On June 19th, 1865, Union General Gordon Granger presented Texas with a proclamation that read, “The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor.”
Although the enforcement of the law took years, and there’s still plenty of work ahead of us, June 19th became a day of celebration. Known as Juneteenth, it’s the longest standing African American holiday. The abolition of slavery was like clearing a dark cloud that had long hung over the country. It was the beginning of allowing African Americans to be their own people and freely shine their light.
There’s no way to undo the suffering caused by slavery and its aftermath of discrimination and systemic oppression, but one step in the right direction – especially for White people – is to recognize how much this country has benefited from the presence of African Americans. Just when the light of the sun is at its peak, we have the opportunity on Juneteenth (and always) to celebrate the light that’s symbolic of the African American soul, which has persevered through unimaginable violence and injustice, and evolved into an incredible cultural identity.
Despite comprising just 13% of our population, African Americans have had a disproportionately significant influence on the United States. From music to art to cuisine to literature to science to leadership to religion and more, it’s all around us.
So, let’s celebrate the light this week.
☀️ Bask in the sun. Try this simple “solar energy” meditation: Inhale for a count of 4 while imagining you’re absorbing the sun through your pores, deep into your body. Hold your breath for a count of 4 while imagining the solar energy working its way into all your cells and charging all your atoms. Exhale for a count of 4 while imagining you’re beaming the sunlight out of every pore. Hold (with empty lungs) for a count of 4 while basking in your own glow around you. Then repeat.
☀️ Open your heart and shine your light into every environment you find yourself in.
☀️ Make a conscious choice to see the light in everyone you encounter.
☀️ Enjoy the contributions of African American writers, musicians, chefs, comedians, and influencers.
☀️ Whatever your race, consider how you've benefited from the influence of courageous and visionary African Americans, then take some action to honor this light and support our work toward true equity.
Be well,
Peter
[post_title] => A Double Serving of Light
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[post_content] => Unbeknownst to most Americans, the world is full of animists. According to Professor Stephen Asma of Columbia College Chicago, “Pretty much everywhere except Western Europe, the Middle East, and North America” is dominated by animistic cultures. Animism is the belief that everything has a soul or spiritual essence; not just living things, but also mountains, fire, the sky, the sea, and sometimes even words and human-made objects.
In practice, though, it’s more than just a belief. It’s a sensibility, a way of experiencing and interacting with the world. Animists relate to their surroundings with a certain intentionality, as if constantly among old friends.
To people in the developed world, such beliefs might seem primitive and superstitious. After all, who needs a world full of spirits when we have science? Science has given us explanations and inventions that have alleviated many hardships and dispelled so much fear.
But it hasn’t made us invincible or immune to fear. We’re still afraid of death, suffering, being alone, poverty, public humiliation, paper cuts, and so on. There’s little solace in science from these bugaboos.
Its other major shortcoming is that science has sucked the spirituality out of life. By reducing everything to cells and atoms, electromagnetic waves and neurotransmitters, it puts the whole phenomenal world beneath us. This promotes a certain feeling of ownership over the world – rather than a sense of belonging to it. If we put all our eggs into the science basket, life can seem random, lacking meaning and soul.
Science and Spirit aren’t mutually exclusive. But ever since early anthropologists looked down their noses at animistic cultures – seeing them as too dumb to know the difference between living and nonliving things, and giving their leaders justification to colonize and oppress them – the developed world has favored science as the ultimate authority. As we seek to right such wrongs, perhaps it’s worth considering not just what indigenous cultures lost, but what the oppressors also lost.
To an animist, the scientist is missing out on an entire plane of reality that’s beneath the surface and accessible only through an expansion of consciousness. To a scientist, the subjective reality of the animist’s consciousness is unmeasurable, untestable, unprovable, and therefore unscientific and even unreal.
What would be possible if we stopped using science to dominate or invalidate what we don’t understand? Can we concede – scientists included – that not everything is a scientific matter? This applies foremost to consciousness itself, which is entirely beyond the grasp of science, and arguably the only thing we know for certain to be real. We also know that humans yearn for a connection that’s beyond the ability of science to explain or provide.
You don’t need to be anti-science to be open to a spiritual reality. I say this as a scientist and animist.
If you’re open to it, I have a simple assignment for you to try this week. Consider this: how might your life be different if you treated your surroundings as if you were in relationship with them? Make it a lighthearted game.
What happens when you express gratitude to your bed, sheets, and pillow upon waking? What happens when you allow yourself to be in awe of the shimmering water that flows, as if by magic, from your showerhead? How does it feel to thank it for invigorating and purifying you? Does it feel any different to bless your food before eating it and thank it for giving itself to nourish you?
What is it like to thank your home for keeping you safe and comfortable? When you step outside, what happens when you experience the earth as the ever-present stability beneath your feet, supporting you and nurturing everything that grows upon it? What do you notice when you give names to the familiar trees or rocks in your neighborhood? How does it feel different to think of the sky as a beautiful, conscious dome over you versus your usual way? What changes when you think of all the animals you encounter as non-human people, each with an equally valid reason to be here as the human people you see?
And what happens when you listen and feel as if all these aspects of the world have something to communicate back to you?
When I say, “What happens?” I’m not (necessarily) asking, “Does your pillow respond, ‘Thanks for finally saying something! It was a pleasure to cradle your head all night!’?” More importantly, I’m asking, how does it make you feel to relate to the world in this way in comparison to your usual way? And if the answer is, “good” or “better” or “playful,” then keep going with it.
Be well,
Dr. Peter Borten
[post_title] => What if You Were Always Surrounded by Friends?
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[post_content] => After two years of studying plant and soil sciences, my favorite professor, Dr. Barker, offered me a job on the University of Massachusetts farm. Whereas my previous jobs had been things like bagging groceries and washing dishes, this was the first time I was getting paid to do something I was interested in, and under the supervision of someone I looked up to.
I was nervous when I showed up at Bowditch Hall on my first day. Dr. Barker, a white-haired man with a country drawl, introduced me to his assistant, Kathy. Then he handed me the keys to a faded old, blue truck and asked me, “Ever driven a three-on-the-tree?” I had never driven any kind of truck before, much less one with the gearshift on the steering column, but I learned quickly as I drove the three of us – with lots of jerking and stalling – out to the farm.
Standing at the edge of a freshly plowed field, Dr. Barker explained that we were going to use stakes and twine to mark out rows for planting seeds. Kathy and I got to work while he watched. The only trouble was, while I had stakes, a mallet, and a ball of twine, I didn’t have anything to cut the twine with. I thought maybe I had spaced out when someone explained where to find a knife or scissors. Or maybe the professor had told me to bring my own knife and I had forgotten. I was too uncomfortable to say anything.
Wondering if there was some way I could proceed with my task without a cutting tool, I pounded the first stake into the ground. I tied one end of the twine around it, walked the length of the field, pounded in another stake, wrapped the twine around that stake, pulled it taut, and then I just squatted there for a few moments. I considered trying to gnaw through it with my teeth, but dismissed the idea as totally unprofessional. Finally, at the risk of appearing unprepared, I called out to Kathy, who was a dozen paces away, “Do you have a knife?”
“Huh?” she turned around and squinted at me in the bright sun. “Oh.” She ambled over, fished around in her pocket, and passed me a pink disposable lighter.
I interpreted this unexpected response to mean, “I don’t have a knife, but I can see what you need there. You’re going to have to burn through the twine with this. At the ends of every row.” She gave me the lighter in such a matter-of-fact way that I thought it would be too weird to ask for a different explanation.
So, feeling like I didn’t have enough hands, I held the twine straight out from the stake, positioned the flame beneath it, and tried to shield it from the wind with my leg. It blew out a couple times, but I eventually managed to burn through it. Meanwhile Dr. Barker had wandered over to observe me and remarked, “That is the strangest way of doing that I have ever seen.”
“Um. I didn’t have a knife,” I said sheepishly.
“Well, I’ve got a knife you can use.”
“Me too,” offered Kathy.
And that’s how, on the first day of my first important job, I believed I must have convinced my boss that I was an absolute idiot. By the way, if you’re wondering why Kathy handed me that lighter, these were the days when smoking was still quite common. She was a smoker and must have thought I said, “Do you have a light?”
The whole thing turned out to be a good lesson for me. By avoiding an uncomfortable conversation, I ended up in even more discomfort.
I resolved to speak up and break through the tension of misunderstanding in the future. I can’t say I’ve always done this, because it takes bravery, and sometimes I chose to stay in my (dis-)comfort zone. But I can say that I’ve never regretted it. Usually there’s an immediate diffusion of tension, and even when there isn’t, at least the truth is out and there’s an opening for resolution. This is especially true when we bring an attitude of curiosity and aim to understand the other person.
Is there anywhere in your life where you’ve left something unsaid because of your resistance to the discomfort of speaking those words and the feelings that may follow? I want to challenge you to make a communication this week that takes you a bit outside your comfort zone. Even if you have to say, “I’m really nervous about saying this” or you have to hold a friend’s hand while doing it, it’s worth it.
Be well,
Peter
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I needed to hear this. Now, to put thoughts into action.
Loved listening to this! 🙂
Thank you for your insight. I am a massage therapist and deal with peoples energy on many different levels. I really liked your thread description. I am going to visualize a beautiful purple thread when I feel distracted or when I feel “not good enough” when I’m working. I do meditate and am reminded that this too, can help when wanting to be a conduit for healing.
I love what you’re saying, but I live with two abusive narcissists, and I’m so drained by them! Emotionally, spirituality, and physically, how can I stop this negativityfrom ruling me?
Perfect timing for me! My energy or spirit was screaming at me all day “Let go!” Referring to someone else’s issues that I had taken on. In turn, as you mentioned, I was not myself in my dealings with others. So, thank you for your words. Truly a blessing!
I love the metaphor of the threads. I will remember to tell myself that next time I’m around certain others: I’m purple, you’re red, you’re blue (and so on); let’s keep our colors clean and intact! Thanks.
If I view this from one perspective, talking energy fields it fits . When we think about feelings and our reactions to others, it starts to get murky for me. Is this a way of denying our own feelings about and interaction with others? I am a social worker with separated families in the court system. I find this draining.
I find most often my own family energy overwhelming to tears. So how do I separate the feelings and the energy?
Hi Sandra,
I think that we don’t have to deny our OWN feelings, but knowing what is ours and honoring that is important. I’m sure as a social working in the court system there is a lot of feelings and a lot of challenges. I think that caring for yourself as a huge priority can help with that drained feeling. Come home to yourself, tend to your heart hearth.
Love,
Briana
Enjoyed this Briana. When I was a young adult I would sometimes feel a very strong emotion then realise it wasn’t mine and feel confused. As my awareness and clarity improved I could notice its approach to my energy field and the source. Often it was complete strangers who had no idea what they were doing. It was then easy to hold my space and respond from my Self rather than just getting caught up and reacting in some way. Much more helpful to them too! Love the analogy of the coloured threads which brings so much clarity to what is happening.