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I had been hearing about an impressive tai chi teacher named Gregory Fong since moving to Portland in 1997. It was about five years later that I convinced Briana to join me one evening and we drove to Chinatown to check out his class. Sifu (“master”) Fong, as everyone called him, was probably not more than about five feet tall, but there was something intimidating about him. He welcomed us warmly, then said, “I have two questions for you. First, do you like pain?”
Do I like pain? What is the appropriate answer here? I mumbled something like, “Maybe if there is a good reason.”
He smiled. “Question two. Do you like to work hard?”
Oh boy. I thought about asking him to define the word “like,” but instead responded with, “I guess?”
He chuckled. “Alright, you don’t know if you like pain or hard work. Just sit down on that chair then.” He pointed to a wooden folding chair against a wall covered with framed portraits of Chinese men. “Rest your hands on your thighs. Don’t lean back. Lift your feet off the floor just high enough for one sheet of paper to fit under them. See you later.” And he walked away for a long time. You can try that right now if you’re sitting.
Years later, having done a lot of hard work and endured much pain in his classes, I reflected that I did in fact like to work hard. I still didn’t like pain, but I had learned the difference between avoiding it versus using it and finding a way through it. And I decided that those two questions are useful preliminaries before almost any endeavor.
They came to mind as I was thinking about the upcoming launch of our Sacred Expansion course. It’s a required program for all of our life coaches, and worthwhile for anyone interested in growing beyond their self-imposed limitations and releasing blocks to having an exceptional life.
In the context of Sacred Expansion, if I were to ask, “Do you like pain?” what I mean is, are you willing to voluntarily experience discomfort as part of discovering what’s holding you back? Are you willing to experience the tension of psycho-spiritual growing pains? Are you willing to be uncomfortable in the short term in order to release the long term discomfort you’ve gotten used to? Are you willing to use your pain to initiate a breakthrough?
As for the question “Do you like to work hard?” what I mean is, are you willing to stick with the work of unraveling your inner knots even when it’s difficult? Are you willing to choose a higher purpose – for instance: freedom, peace, spiritual connection, joy, service to your species and planet – over and over and over? Are you willing to break some habits? Are you willing to challenge your own thoughts? Are you willing to explore parts of yourself you aren’t comfortable with? All of these tasks represent a certain form of work.
By liking hard work, I don’t mean that you get points for having a hard life or that there’s merit in making things unnecessarily difficult. In fact, a core principle Sifu taught was that hard work and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. We can be at ease while simultaneously working our hardest. Regardless of the form that our work takes, there’s no getting around the importance of consistent effort in the direction of our dreams if we want them to come to fruition.
If you’ve even thought, “I know I have greater potential than this” or, “I feel like I’m missing out on my superpowers” or, “If I could release all this baggage, I could finally feel free!” read more about Sacred Expansion. We’d love to have you join us.
Be well,
Peter
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Have you had an experience of awakening to something that feels more real than ordinary reality? I remember the first time I heard Zen-inspired spiritual teacher Adyashanti refer to these moments as “gaps” in everyday awareness, when we stop focusing on our own mind and experience the world as it really is.
I’d had some of these expansive periods but felt a great letdown when I returned to ordinary reality. This is sometimes referred to as the “I get it! I lost it” phenomenon. It was relieving to hear Adyashanti describe these moments simply as windows through the dominant narrative. He explains that when we’re adamant about finding the truth, the gaps tend to get longer and more frequent. He also observes that what we find there isn’t usually what we expect it will be.
When the gaps run into each other and become our abiding reality, this is often referred to as spiritual awakening or enlightenment. It’s natural to imagine that something that sounds so grand and mystical must be a state unlike anything we’ve ever felt – maybe even a condition of perpetual ecstasy.
This makes it highly appealing to the ego, which often tries to take over the mission. It can easily turn spirituality into a competition and a source of identity and approval (“I’m woke AF!). And it may desperately hope that it’s finally found the thing that’s going to make us happy.
Happiness is a noble pursuit, but it’s not necessarily the same path that the question of “What am I really?” takes us on. Likewise, while I believe the “What am I?” path does eventually lead us to happiness – true, causeless happiness, in fact – there’s likely to be some unhappiness along the way, which is generated by the ego’s unwillingness to get out of the driver’s seat.
Spiritual awakening shrinks the ego to irrelevance, and this idea is about as scary as actually dying. The ego – the mental construct of personality, feelings, memories, and intellect that we’ve cultivated and reinforced since childhood – dominates our inner and outer experience of life, and in this way confuses us into believing that it is who we are. It’s been this way for so long that we may have forgotten what the unfiltered, egoless experiences (i.e., gaps) feel like. The ego isn’t malicious; it’s just trying to survive. But to the extent that we believe our ego is who we are, we’ll find it impossible to circumvent – because how could we get away from ourselves?
As of this writing, my ego is alive and well, and my gaps are fewer and farther between than I would prefer, but I’ve spent enough time cultivating gaps that I hope I can share something worthwhile. In my experience, though I have had moments of true ecstasy (while completely sober!), the most striking surprise is the incredible familiarity and closeness of the transcendent experience. I think this is what Adyashanti and other teachers are getting at when they say, “It’s not what the mind thinks it’s going to be.”
While we may imagine that spiritual awakening is like acquiring new powers, I believe it’s more of a remembering. It’s like having your head in one of those old-school arcade machines, gripping the joystick, munching pellets, running away from the ghosts, believing “this is what life is,” and then pulling back and taking in the true surroundings. The surroundings were always here, and so was the consciousness that the game wasn’t reality, but you were so immersed in it you forgot.
In one of these gap experiences I actually found myself saying out loud, “Ohhh! It’s THIS! It’s THIS!” The best I can explain it is that I suddenly noticed something that had always been in the background – always, always, always there for the entirety of my life, but so constant as to be disregarded. It wouldn’t call it mystical, but it was incredibly relieving.
Upon tuning in to it and recognizing it as part of myself, that “background” immediately expanded, rendering all of “Peter’s life stuff” relatively small and insignificant. In that state I remembered that I had previously been afraid that letting go of my “small self” would mean that I’d stop caring about my loved ones. But in this expanded awareness, I saw that this was just a fear my ego came up with, and if anything I was able to love people more completely than ever.
I wish I could say I stayed there forever, but my conditioning crept back in. I was able to see myself, little by little, choosing smaller points of view, picking up my phone for no good reason, and shrinking my field of awareness. But these experiences change us even if they’re not sustained forever. They give us a glimpse that’s not easily forgotten.
So, how do we remember? A good starting point is to ask yourself, What has been with me ALWAYS? Or, Who is that consciousness that has been watching my life, that has been there all along, never departing, even while my body grew and my life circumstances changed?
As Meister Eckhart wrote, “The eye through which I see God is the same eye through which God sees me; my eye and God's eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.” What happens when you try to see the one who’s doing the seeing? What happens when, as Adyashanti says, you “turn Awareness upon itself”?
Here’s to more and longer gaps. And feel free to share about your gap experiences in the comments section.
Be well,
Peter
[post_title] => Opening Up the Gaps in Ordinary Reality
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As we approach spring, it’s a good time to discuss seasonal junctions. Both Ayurvedic and Chinese systems of medicine see the changes of seasons as times when we are more susceptible to being thrown out of balance as our body is challenged to adapt to the shift. Ayurveda has a saying that “diseases are generated at the junctions of the seasons.”
Other junctions are also challenging, with the challenge generally proportional to the magnitude of change. Ayurvedic teacher Robert Svoboda writes, “Ovulation and menstruation are the ‘joints’ of the menstrual cycle, dawn and dusk are the joints of day and night, and adolescence and menopause are the junctions of life.” If you have kids, you know that the “joints” of the day are the times you’re likely to have trouble, and if you’re clever, you find ways to make these transitions easy, such as the ever-popular “five more minutes until we’re leaving.”
Depending on where you live and your personal constitution, different seasons and junctions will be challenging for different people. For example, because spring tends to be wet, moving into this season means taking on more of what Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) calls dampness, or in Ayurveda an increase in kapha (“kaap-ha”). This will be most difficult for those who already have constitutional kapha or an accumulation of dampness in their system. Some of the signs and symptoms include: being overweight, having loose, sticky, or incomplete stools, a wide or coated tongue, feeling heavy and tired, finding it hard to wake up in the morning, and a tendency to be phlegmy.
Ayurveda might prescribe some therapeutic vomiting for such a condition, but these days, especially in the West, we prefer more pleasant medicine, ideally in gummy form, and we engage in therapeutic vomiting only after an excess of margaritas. Luckily, there are gentler ways to restore balance, and when it comes to management of the seasonal junctions, the most natural is to be aware of vulnerability during seasonal transitions and treat yourself with extra care. For someone with a delicate constitution or pre-existing health problems, this may be prudent at every season change. For others, only certain season changes may be troublesome. In any case, it’s a good idea to get extra sleep and to eat with greater care during the transition month.
If you have a personal challenge with the transition to spring, here are some more specific recommendations for this time.
- Eat more warm, cooked foods. Soups and stews are great. An ideal one is kitchari, made from rice and mung beans (there are lots of recipes online). If you have some of the kapha / damp challenges described above, you can add plenty of warming spices, including ginger, turmeric, cumin, coriander, turmeric, cinnamon, fenugreek, caraway, nutmeg, and black pepper. As the world gets warmer, start incorporating more fresh local produce.
- Avoid heavy, cold, and sweetened foods. These all tend to be cloying. Also, stop eating before you’re full, and let yourself get hungry between meals (don’t snack).
- Do some movement every day. Kapha / dampness tends to congeal in us when we’re immobile, sometimes making us feel achy, heavy, phlegmy, or groggy in the morning, after we’ve been horizontal for several hours. Daily movement, ideally with enough vigor to break a sweat, will help.
- Try a dry sauna. If you have access to a dry sauna, it can help counteract the effects of a damp environment. It doesn’t need to be too hot. You shouldn’t be pouring sweat. More sustainable is to have longer sessions in which your skin is just glistening.
- If you tend to get spring allergies, this is the time to prepare by babying your digestive system (eat slowly, deliberately, and only easily-digested foods) and taking some things to stabilize your immune system. Some of my favorites are quercetin (500mg twice a day), nettles (pick and steam your own if you can), local bee pollen, and homeopathic preparations of the things you’re allergic to. As for this last item, it’s akin to the old-school method of desensitization. There are companies that make super-dilute tinctures common allergens, such as tree pollen, grass pollen, animal hair, mold, dust, etc. I’ve had good experiences with ones made by a company called BioAllers.
For everyone – including those who have no particular challenge with the transition to spring – it’s worthwhile to pay attention to what’s happening in nature. Be fascinated by the return of new life. Notice the boisterous energy in the flowers and birds. Admire the vigor in the shoots that push their way through the crusted soil. The rising energy and lengthening days make it the ideal time for: planning, visualizing, cleansing, and shedding.
Wishing you a harmonious junction and beyond,
Peter
[post_title] => How to Optimize the Transition to Spring
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I had been hearing about an impressive tai chi teacher named Gregory Fong since moving to Portland in 1997. It was about five years later that I convinced Briana to join me one evening and we drove to Chinatown to check out his class. Sifu (“master”) Fong, as everyone called him, was probably not more than about five feet tall, but there was something intimidating about him. He welcomed us warmly, then said, “I have two questions for you. First, do you like pain?”
Do I like pain? What is the appropriate answer here? I mumbled something like, “Maybe if there is a good reason.”
He smiled. “Question two. Do you like to work hard?”
Oh boy. I thought about asking him to define the word “like,” but instead responded with, “I guess?”
He chuckled. “Alright, you don’t know if you like pain or hard work. Just sit down on that chair then.” He pointed to a wooden folding chair against a wall covered with framed portraits of Chinese men. “Rest your hands on your thighs. Don’t lean back. Lift your feet off the floor just high enough for one sheet of paper to fit under them. See you later.” And he walked away for a long time. You can try that right now if you’re sitting.
Years later, having done a lot of hard work and endured much pain in his classes, I reflected that I did in fact like to work hard. I still didn’t like pain, but I had learned the difference between avoiding it versus using it and finding a way through it. And I decided that those two questions are useful preliminaries before almost any endeavor.
They came to mind as I was thinking about the upcoming launch of our Sacred Expansion course. It’s a required program for all of our life coaches, and worthwhile for anyone interested in growing beyond their self-imposed limitations and releasing blocks to having an exceptional life.
In the context of Sacred Expansion, if I were to ask, “Do you like pain?” what I mean is, are you willing to voluntarily experience discomfort as part of discovering what’s holding you back? Are you willing to experience the tension of psycho-spiritual growing pains? Are you willing to be uncomfortable in the short term in order to release the long term discomfort you’ve gotten used to? Are you willing to use your pain to initiate a breakthrough?
As for the question “Do you like to work hard?” what I mean is, are you willing to stick with the work of unraveling your inner knots even when it’s difficult? Are you willing to choose a higher purpose – for instance: freedom, peace, spiritual connection, joy, service to your species and planet – over and over and over? Are you willing to break some habits? Are you willing to challenge your own thoughts? Are you willing to explore parts of yourself you aren’t comfortable with? All of these tasks represent a certain form of work.
By liking hard work, I don’t mean that you get points for having a hard life or that there’s merit in making things unnecessarily difficult. In fact, a core principle Sifu taught was that hard work and peace aren’t mutually exclusive. We can be at ease while simultaneously working our hardest. Regardless of the form that our work takes, there’s no getting around the importance of consistent effort in the direction of our dreams if we want them to come to fruition.
If you’ve even thought, “I know I have greater potential than this” or, “I feel like I’m missing out on my superpowers” or, “If I could release all this baggage, I could finally feel free!” read more about Sacred Expansion. We’d love to have you join us.
Be well,
Peter
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