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A Spiritual Journey always sort of creeps up on one. It’s never clear that this is what’s happening until one is totally engulfed in the lessons, the learning, the stories, the growth, I’ve never known one to be painless or without some level of challenge to ones character.

I knew I had to go. I knew my kids were experiencing their own growing pains, those pains that one has to try oneself out, see what one is made of, see who one is needing to be as they move through life. most of all the need is to prove oneself to oneself, to show that one can do it, can be resilient, can do the right things.

It was no different for myself, the only difference was that I can’t even name or number how many times I’ve found myself at this point in my life. It seems it often started with a deeply painful and life-changing event, that necessitates a movement of some sort, which leads to shifts and more movements.

Back in the fall, I realized that I needed to leave the state I’d been born in and lived in all of my 67 years. I, like my Mother and Grandmother before me were drawn to the Southwest. They chose Phoenix, I Albuquerque. I knew that the cold of Colorado had bitten into my being for the last time. That bite, and the actions of a member of my household who decided to also take tiny bites out of me were draining me of my life force and actual will to live. Prior to that, a breakup from a man who also had taken big chunks out of my spirit was wearing and weathering me in ways that my spirit knew were no longer sustainable.

There I was, feeling like Swiss cheese and holding a dawning awareness that to stay would be the death to my spirit, if not my body as well. So, I prepared myself for leaving. At first I wasn’t sure where I was going to land. Phoenix felt too daunting for me given the intense heat and need to live in air conditioning for a good part of the year. Having asthma, I’m sensitive to AC for some reason, even indoor heat in Winter is drying, but I have learned to work with it.

I looked at prices, various towns and cities–too expensive, too remote, too lacking in something I needed, and I knew in my spirit somewhere what that was, but not on a conscious level right away. I was drawn to Santa Fe and Taos, yet they both have wintery weather, and they are sadly almost as expensive as Colorado.

I have a dear friend in Albuquerque, so started looking seriously. I didn’t know that it seemed to hold what I was looking for until I got here. So I began to plan…

To be continued…

My post about authenticity brought forth a nasty, lengthy 10 text diatribe from a younger white person I barely know, who only a few weeks ago said they felt “lucky to be learning from me”. They took exception to the idea of mentioning authenticity and Naropa in the same sentence. I will not justify my experience, but I will say this: We as humans take from any experience what we want to get out of it. We can always choose to leave a bad situation, and as a woman of color, I have on numerous occasions done just that. To question my validity and authenticity is the deepest form of racism, and is a great display of white privilege and white supremacy.

We always get to choose what and how we will learn. My time at Naropa was love/hate. Once a student I chose to finish out my time there, though it was one of the more painful and yet enriching learning experiences I’ve ever had and paid deeply for on many levels.

During my time as student, there were no teachers in my department who looked like me, the employees of color elsewhere in the school who did, most often left, due to burnout, despite the fact that there are numbers of white teachers who’ve been there since the school was founded.

As a staff and faculty for 12 years chose to push forth the idea of making sure that future counselors learned how to work with people of other cultures. I taught the so-called multicultural counseling classes both in the classroom and online.

I got to see Cultural Appropriation on full display all around me–African Drumming and African Dance classes, Hindu chanting, Japanese flower arranging, Native American classes, all taught by white folks. At one point, they even asked me to write a Cultural Appropriation policy that never went anywhere, because no one was willing to enforce it. I learned very well what Cultural Appropriation looks like, and to ask those who wish to follow Gods of Black, Brown, Red and Yellow people to do their homework about those cultures ought not be viewed as an insult but as a reasonable and practical request. To find a way to give back to those cultures would be even better. If as a white person you take exception with this simple request, then what are you really doing? You are buying into and taking part in centuries of colonization and genocide.

Each day in my classes, I was disrespected, demeaned, called out, called a liar, and treated in ways that no one would ever treat a white teacher. I helped to form a support group for faculty and staff of color, so that we could share these experiences and get much needed support from each other. My time at Naropa was no picnic, and I continously worked at taking all the lemons I was handed and making for myself, my life, my children, my students and everyone who knows me, a gigantic pitcher of delicious lemonade. I continue to drink deep.

Because and in spite of all of these experiences, I grew and grew, and oddly was appreciated for my work by being named Student of the Year when I graduated, Teacher of the Year before I left, and was named one of the “Women of Naropa” because a group of young women students noticed that all the pictures on the walls of Naropa were of white men. Yes, Naropa was a male establishment for many years, though founded by a wise teacher from Tibet, himself a person of color. He empowered many white teachers, and hence Naropa’s reputation for putting forth “white Buddhism”. I will always remember the words of a friend from Japan who also went to Naropa: “I don’t know what they think they’re doing, I was born Buddhist!”

Authentic? You bet I am. I came out of Naropa with many tools to make me a good counselor because I figured out how I could use what I was taught to my advantage and to help People of Color and LGBTQ folks to be seen, heard and listened to. I learned through and in spite of deep and continuous adversity. They called Naropa a place of “Crazy Wisdom”, well, it nearly drove me crazy, but now as an elder, I’m damn wise.

I still get contacted on occasion by students of color that I helped get through the horrors of being made to feel that they were crazy simply because they were people of color. I talked numbers of Transgender and Gay students down from suicide. I am slowly watching the flames of my rage die down from the level of white privilege and superiority shown me by someone who barely knows me, and somehow thought that they could use the reputation of my alma mater to make me feel as if I was deluded and therefore inauthentic, when In reality I saw very, painfully and clearly what Naropa was truly about.

I choose to use what I learned to continue to grow myself and to keep teaching others who want to understand and be more authentic in their spiritual practices and in their lives.

I do not have to justify myself to anyone. I end relationships brutally and quickly with people who disrespect me, my culture, the cultures of other folks of color, or LGBTQ folks. This writing has helped me to calm my fire. What I’m left with is a deep sense of sadness for a world where people of color are still suspect, and are not seen for who we are inside and valued for the innate knowledge and wisdom we carry by virtue of our history and what we deal with every moment we live in America. I know that I came here for a reason, and Naropa was just a part of my journey to wholeness. I work hard at walking my talk, ask anyone who truly knows me.

As an aside, in recent months, I have met various challenges to my personhood. Being who I am, while it has been hard to go through, I am still growing and learning, though truly tired of being hit with the white supremacy and racism that has been a part of my life since the day I was born. White people, do your work, and stop attacking people of color with your bigotry and ignorance because you feel guilty for not taking the time to learn about us, as we have to learn about you every day. At this point in time, there is truly no acceptable excuse or reason for you to keep up this painful charade–you’re hurting us all.

During my time at Naropa, we were taught much about the need for authenticity. As I’ve grown older, it has become more clear to me what this means. To live authentically, means that one tries to live from what one knows in their heart to be right for them, to see the world through this lens, and to adjust self accordingly.

In recent times, I have come to see that in my desire for authenticity, some folks have dropped out of my life. While this has been painful for me, I am clear, and am seeing that those who choose to live their beliefs, their thoughts, their feelings, their very lives, from a place of being “real”, are gathering about me. I am heartened by this, and know that I can work deeply and truly from here. Living a fake life full of others rules doesn’t work anymore–Never did, never will…

Found this quote from LadySpeech that seems to sum it up…
Dear Lawless woman,
They will always be upset that
you don’t follow their rules, won’t
follow their rules, refuse to
follow their rules. They will
never understand that you were
built with your rules, your
mission, your direction, your
plan, and your instructions
embedded in your soul.
Trust yourself. Fuck the rules.
–LadySpeech

I’ve had some interesting conversations with various young folk in the last few weeks, and I want to write a few words, and hope they stick in various ways.

One said that we old folks are “crotchety”(cranky and or ill tempered). Well hmm. Yes, sometimes we are. I would have said the same thing about the elders I knew as a young person. What I didn’t know then, that I know now is that there are reasons. One, and the most compelling is that we have lived a really long time, and at some points, no matter how much we may have enjoyed life, there is a certain level of impatience, exhaustion, sadness, and pain that has been endured, over and over again. As a Black woman, this is multiplied, by virtue of what I’ve been through and still go through each day. I’m not complaining, I’m stating a fact.

Respect. Wow, I was lucky to have been raised by elder women, so, I learned very early and very quickly how to respect and love my elders. I was shocked to have one young person ask to see me and expect that I would travel from Longmont down to Denver when he wanted me to, just so he could talk to me. He said he didn’t have a car but was used to riding the bus, but has yet to ever actually step foot onto one to come see me. Others have somehow thought that because I am on disability, I am “free” to meet with them whenever they want, and actually attempt to become demanding of my time and want me to show up here or there when they want me to. Another, had the audacity to ask that I drive to the other side of the state to hang out with he and his family when they came in from out of state–on my dime, I might add.

Don’t–just don’t, demand such things of any elder, be respectful of their time, their space and their being. Ask kindly for time and don’t come empty handed–bring food, take them to lunch or dinner, offer gifts, do whatever you can to make sure that they have your deepest and utmost respect. Don’t expect that you will get to sit at their feet and partake of their worldly and hard earned wisdom for free!

Finally, I refuse to listen anymore when I hear younger folks asking–“where have all the elders gone?” as if we simply disappeared like the flowers in the fields. I spoke above of some very valid reasons why we might not be around. Though most of all, know that without any warning, we could be gone–just like that. So if you’ve thought to check up on us–do it. If you’ve wondered if we’re ok? Send that text, make that call, because we could be sick, we could be on our way out. Not all of us whine on Facebook about our various ailments–I’m one of those who doesn’t. So, check in–that is, if you really do care.

I’ve found myself in a place of moving more slowly, and learning to take my life as it comes, to take each moment and revel in it, love it, enjoy it.

I have also found that it is often harder now to keep hold of too much in my mind, and this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Over many years, we keep adding more and more data into our brains, as we do that , our brains get overloaded, and these file cabinets start to form in the back, housing that which doesn’t get used right away, hence making it harder and slower to access at times.

What also happens, is that it is difficult to keep a strong hold on reality. Yes, of course I live on this plane, I still drive, I pay my bills, and do all the things I’m supposed to, yet, at times I find that I am in sort of a dream-like state in which, when I emerge, time has passed, and I’m not sure what got done.

It’s an odd feeling, to keep bouncing back between this reality and that other. I would guess this is what my ancestors experienced, but were unable to speak of, or perhaps had no words or a way of explaining it to me as a young one, knowing that until I got here, I’d not truly understand.

There are parts of this process that, as I’ve said that I revel in, that I actually sort of enjoy, for it has allowed me to drop the filters I used to have that kept me from saying the things I wanted to say in the past, now they fly out sometimes–and I don’t really care. Not to be mistaken with “not caring” as in the “not giving a sh__”, but as in not worrying how some personal truth that I speak is going to be received, especially if what I am speaking is indeed a truth.

I think what is hard though is how the young often receive me. If I do not respond how they wish and hope I would, I am rejected, put aside, and seen as non-functional–a feeling similar to racism, and folks who can’t deal with me, simply move on away from me–no contact–unless they need something from me. I find this part quite painful. Then, I suspect it’s always been this way, though, for me, living with my elders gave me a chance and time to hear them, love them, listen to their wisdom, respect them, help them. Perhaps there will be those–I can hope.

You say: “I am doing just fine, I am feeling secure, I have what I need, I’ve got things taken care of, I know what I’m doing, I have everything under control.”

Universe say: “Oh, ok then, good, there are others in need, clearly you are ok, we’ll leave you alone. Let us know when you are ready to have what you most need, ask in the most clear words and with the most clear of heart and intention, and we will answer. Otherwise, good luck, and byebye for now. Oh, and stop whining that we are not listening to you, we hear you when you are truly needing and ready to receive. For until you are ready to receive, there is nothing we can give you.”

I was talking to a dear friend this morning, and she mentioned that something she ate last night “didn’t agree with her”. Funny how often as an elder adult, many things don’t agree with us–foods we eat, people we love, politicians…And, we sit with it, in one way or another–hehe.

Yet, the joy of aging, is yes, we have some strong opinions, thoughts, ideas, emotions and feelings about the world outside of us, based on our inner worlds, which after many years are pretty damn large!

I no longer make apologies for my disagreements, as I recognize that time is shorter now, I have no idea how long I might have, so to just put up with, be ok with, placate, be nice, etc. doesn’t serve me anymore. Sometimes I just disagree, and I resist, and maybe if someone or something or some situation doesn’t agree with me, I may just choose to speak my mind, or I may look away, or I might even have harsh/truthful things to say, or…I may just walk away. All are valid options in the elder world.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t care. On the contrary, after 62 years, I care very deeply and passionately about much, and about many, based on an understanding of what is truly precious.

Then there’s the “J” word. Hehe. “Omg, you’re so judgemental!”. Damn straight. After seeing much, experiencing much, and amassing tons of knowledge about many subjects, yes, I get to judge what’s right–for me, what works–for me, and what doesn’t, in my way of seeing–make sense–for me. What you choose to do is fine, for you. However, knowledge turns to wisdom with the element of time. You don’t have to agree with me, I’m totally cool/down with that. …And, I may, speak, keep silent, look away, or walk away, all wisely made choices for an elder.

But you know what? My heart is really big, it has to be to keep beating this long, so if I love you, my love for you is really big–that you can trust, though I may not always say it.

Time becomes precious for us elders, so, if you stay away too long we might just fade, or pass away. So please, if we matter at all to you, check in often, just to say hi, letting us know we matter to you, because one day, we won’t be there anymore, and regret is a really bitter thing to be with. Much love to all of you, and deepest gratitude for all the birthday wishes.
Soltahr

I was lucky enough to get away for a few days to a festival in the Black Forest of Colorado with folks from my spiritual community.
We arrived at the location, got all checked in and settled on Wednesday. In the mddle of the night, I woke up and happened to look out the window to see a pretty fair amount of snow on the trees outside my window! It’s May! We left our further North home in Spring, only to end up back in the Winter! What a funny surprise!

Yet, unlike how I might feel at home, I laughed to myself that our Gods have a great sense of humor and went back to sleep. In the morninng, we were greeted with a late Spring, Winter wonderland. Yet, I felt myself feeling oddly relaxed. I knew I didn’t have anywwhere far to go, and only a task that I signed up for on my agenda that was the equivalent of a couple of blocks away.

While it was hard to accept the return of the cold and snow, it was somehow ok. I wasn’t upset or worried about things as I might normally have been. In fact, I actually allowed myself to enjoy what seemed to be forming up as an adventure!

To be among my spiritual community is a whole different experience compared to what I deal with in the outer world. Among my community, I am revered as an elder, loved and respected. I am seen as wise and one to go to for guidance and help. I am a priestess who is called upon to lead parts of rituals or whole rituals on occasion, because my 30+ years of knowledge is valuable. I have a place, I am seen as having a place.

As a Black woman, and an elder in this world, it is–was such a treasure to feel this sense of connection and to feel for a few days that feeling of being spiritually reinvigorated, so that I could see my way through to what was/is important.

I have much more clarity than I have in recent days, though it’s often difficult to see the way. I am heartened by a new sense of personal freedom that comes from a sense of fearlessness in the manner of Trungpa. Fearlessness doesn’t necessarily mean absence of fear, but a willingness to keep going into things no matter what might be the outcome. It is also about, from my perspective, doing exactly what you need to be doing without worrying about what others think, or what you think will happen.

I am grateful for these insights, and sincerely am grateful to Joy and Jo and all who created an environment where we could stretch and learn and find our way back home–wherever that might be.

 

 

Right Relationship
I have heard these words spoken often in the context of my spiritual community, and am continuously surprised at how there is often what I think of as “lip service” being given to it.
As a trained therapist, priestess, mother, friend, and lover of Mother Earth, I have, over my life, had/been in many relationships. When I was younger, I would say that I wasn’t always treated respectfully, and in turn, I wasn’t always respectful of others. I, like most of us was taught to be respectful to my elders, yet, it occurs to me that we might want to strive to be in “right relationship” with everyone we know and love, as well as all creatures, and beings that inhabit Mother Earth.

What does this mean? Relationship by it’s very nature implies that we allow ourselves to be interconnected with others, that we allow ourselves to be open to the ongoing nature of what it means to care for and about others. We live in a very busy and often chaotic world that requires much of us in terms of time and energy. It takes a lot to remain connected to others, especially to be truly and deeply connected. It doesn’t mean calling someone 3 or 4 times a day, or even 3 or 4 times a week. We do have at our disposal every form of communication and there’s really no excuse to be out of touch with others

As a woman of color, and now as an elder, it’s my thinking that I am doing the best I can to be engaged in life. In the Winter, due to the cold and ice, and how that effects my physical pain levels, I sometimes find myself not going out. I am lucky to live with my kids and my partner for now, but I think about other elders who live alone, and can’t necessarily get out at all—who checks up on them? I also think that because I have people, there is an assumption that I’m ok, and that I don’t need any help. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m pretty good at reaching out for help when I need it, yet, I’m also aware of not wanting to overstep my boundaries or take too much or become a pest. While my kids and partner help as they can, they’re not always there due to work, and often I am alone.

There is also the simple reality that elders are fragile. I know for myself, that a fall I took in December took me out of commission for about a month. I hurt my rib, and my shoulder, and was barely able to get around. It’s all very nice to send prayers and good wishes, yet that isn’t and has never been the same as reaching out and saying “Hey, how are you? Do you need any help? Need a ride anywhere? Is there anything you need?” I’m recovering, but given my aging body, I’m not as capable as I once was, and I work hard to be as self-sufficient as I can be, but occasionally need some help. Though I’m pretty good at asking for help when I need it, to offer it without my asking is priceless and endears you to my heart.

I have often fretted that we spend so much time with our faces stuck in front of computers of one size or another, and we forget to use those same amenities to reach out. A simple text, saying one of the above means worlds to someone who is alone, or feels disconnected due to pain, or inability to get around. We live in a culture where the aged are thought to somehow just disappear, and if you’re not heard from in a while, folks just assume, that you are no longer a viable being, capable of thought, presence or understanding. Nothing could be further from the truth. While I don’t often show up at a lot of events, I do get out when I can, and I continue to give to my community, my family, and I take care of myself.

I won’t belabor the ideas I’m putting forth, about elders, as I want to go on to what it’s like as a woman of color. All of my life, it has been my experience that in order to be seen and heard, I have to work at it. I’m also aware that at one time in my life, I felt that in order to be liked and accepted, I had to do what I could to get others’ attention. As I have come to understand privilege, power, white supremacy and racism, I have seen that it is not necessary for me to keep throwing myself out there, and dancing about trying to get the attention of the white folks I come in contact with. I don’t have to look friendly if I don’t feel like it, I don’t have to make eye contact if I don’t feel like it, I don’t have to do anything to help the privileged feel more comfortable with my presence in this world. So, I don’t, not anymore. I’m tired of doing that dance. It’s not that I’ve become suddenly unfriendly, it’s just that I don’t have to contort myself to make white folks feel better.

Among folks of color, we have a sort of unspoken rule about our interactions with the rest of the world. We call it “getting a pass”. You, if you are a white person, earn passes with us, moment by moment, day by day, week by week, every time we have an interaction, and even when we’re not together. What does this mean? I means staying “woke” 24/7. Why? We as people of color and LGBTQ folks and many others have no choice but to be “woke” in order to survive. If you choose to remain asleep to our needs of you, you get no passes.

What are our needs you might (hopefully) ask? Much like the needs of elders, we need you to stay awake with us. We cannot hold the pressure of being awake all the time—we need you with us. Set a reminder to check in with us on a regular basis—if you are absent for long periods of time from our lives, we assume you aren’t there for us, and we might just sign you off as an ally. When I used to visit Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota, it was my experience that folks allowed you “in” (read—gave you a pass) if you kept showing up for them. To keep showing up for us means you are there, we can trust that you will step up if you hear a racist, homophobic, transphobic, etc. remark. If you sit in silence and leave us to fend for ourselves, you get NO passes—ever. Kindness and good intentions are all very nice, pray all you want—I won’t turn all that down, but if you can’t show up for me, if you can’t check in on me occasionally, I cannot imagine that you still care for me. It doesn’t matter what you may have done for me in the past, or if you hold me in the highest regard, what matters is the present moment, right here, right now. I need to know if you are with me, right here, right now.

Does this seem harsh? No apologies. You’re either with us or you’re not—it’s that simple, and that complex. The bottom line is truly just this: We are all in this life thing together, there are parts of the structure of life wherein inequalities are simply the way it is. To be aware of this, and to fight against them is up to us all. Join me in seeking to be more loving and kind. Consider for yourself what you can do to move toward the goal of knowing that equality is a necessary part of our culture, and our world. We don’t have it yet, working toward it is what we all need. Join me?

Blessings and Love. Soltahr

I am your Mindfulness Bell.
See this Brown face and remember all the brown faces
You pass by every day, unnoticing, uncaring, perhaps fearing…
This brown face is just that, a brown face, with more brown skin
Covering all the other body parts—just like yours…
Underneath is a beating heart—just like yours.
Underneath is a body that has the same functions as yours,
But can you handle the possibility that this body has been abused,
Looked down on, harassed, made fun of, poked, hit, denied entrance…
I am your Mindfulness Bell. Can you face waking up?
Can you face the difference that I show you? Can you keep your
Mind and Heart open while you learn to truly see me?
Can you allow yourself to take in all that I am without
Needing to fix or frown, or dismiss, or harm in micro ways?
Could you Mindfully approach me? Could you Mindfully let others like me Into your closed up heart? Could you let us touch you with our ages old pain?
Could you reach out your hand? Could you touch me/us without fear?
Could you Mindfully know and find love and kindness in you for me/us?
We are your Mindfulness Bell.