Durga pierces the heart

Today I'm going to quote mostly from a book that I have just begun reading - but has already had an enormous impact on me. It's The Bond Between Women: A Journey to Fierce Compassion by China Galland. Here's a bit from the synopsis.

Around the world, women are working for healing, and the lives of these women reveal an unusual source of strength: the fierceness of compassion, symbolized in ancient icons, images, and archetypes of the divine feminine. Known to Buddhists in Nepal and Tibet as Tara, to Hindus in India as the goddess Durga, to Catholics in Europe and Latin America as the Black Madonna, and as Jemanja in the Afro-Brazilian tradition of Candomble, this fierce divine feminine arises when the world is on the brink of destruction, and saves us, the ancient stories say.

Galland begins this journey by telling the tale of the Hindu Goddess Durga.

The world stood posed on the brink of destruction once before.

Rivers dried up, plants refused to grow. People starved. There was war everywhere. Slaughter prevailed. Dancing stopped, even singing was forgotten. The demons, known as the asuras, were loose in the world, raging unchecked across heaven and earth, drunk with destruction. No one could stop them, not even the gods, who had been defeated, one by one.

Humiliated, the gods withdrew to the heights of the Himalayas and took counsel amongst themselves, to no avail. Their dilemma was insoluble. They had lost all power against these demons and could only leave the world to its inevitable destruction. Then it was remembered that this time had been foretold - a demon would come to destroy the world, and only a woman could defeat this demon - only a woman could save the world.

Durga is called forth and takes on many battles with the demons - defeating all. Until the final battle that Galland describes this way.

Time stopped as the Goddess and the Demon embraced in their fight, turning and pitching, rolling across the sky. The cosmos groaned with the enormity of their encounter. At the last moment, Durga pierced Sumbha's heart with her dagger and he fell tumbling out of the heavens. The world was safe at last.

Galland draws the following conclusions from this ancient story.

This is what gives this ancient story such a contemporary ring. It tells us that the demons can be defeated, that the world can be saved - but not by traditional solutions, and not until defeat has been acknowledged.

...

The solutions would come from unexpected quarters, from a place they had not thought to look - from the Goddess, from the power of the feminine. The stone that had been cast out had to become the foundation.

...

And in continuing this commentary, it is important to note that it is the final scene of the battle that is the most telling. Durga had killed the Demon Mahisasura many times in the earlier battles in this story, and though she cut off his head, he would come back to life in another form. He was not decisively defeated until his heart was pierced. This is the crucial element in what the story tells us. These human failings, these "demons" who threaten us can be defeated only when we go beyond reason, when we pierce the heart.

Galland writes about her own "heart piercing" in the opening prologue.

I want to begin with what is beautiful. I want this because what follows is hard for me to tell you. It is a small part of a much larger story, but it is the thread that drew me through the eye of the needle.

The waters were rising, flooding this constricted place inside myself. I had to swim for my life to get to where the way opened, to make my way to a broader shore. To safety. I could no longer stay in the narrows, handless, voiceless. But this is not what I want to write.

I want to write about what is beautiful, about how wisdom - the principle of enlightenment - is within each one of us, about how it is unavoidable.

I want to write about a passionately happy, blissful source of wisdom, a dynamic, fierce female divinity who awaits our discovery - awaits the sun and water of our attention - to transform our life.

Is this, in fact, the power that can defeat the demons and save the world? If so, she's there waiting...

Know the Mystery
that if that which thou seekest
thou findest not within thee,
thou will never find it without thee...

For behold

I Have Been With Thee From The Beginning

And I await thee now.
Blessed Be.

Traditional Wiccan prayer

Tipping Point

Today, I'd like to riff on a comment made by Valtin in Buhdy's essay this week about fear:

All fears are conquered, ultimately, by facing them, and by accepting the fear that is felt, and acting anyway.

The trick is to face the fear. For that, one needs social support. This is how soldiers go into battle: solidarity with their comrades, and with leadership they believe in.

The same will be true for the legions who must be mobilized to change things. Once people perceive that others are willing to take the risk, things can begin to move quickly.

It is my assessment that the political elites, both Democratic and Republican, are sitting on a social volcano.

And when it blows...

(emphasis mine)



His statement reminded me of Malcolm Gladwell's book The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference . I'm not one to give total credence to any one theory as the sole explanation for human behavior, least of all social behavior. But I think Gladwell has some interesting ideas that we might explore a bit in our thinking about how large-scale change happens.

By way of background, Gladwell says the idea of the tipping point came from his investigation of the AIDS epidemic:

The word "Tipping Point", for example, comes from the world of epidemiology. It's the name given to that moment in an epidemic when a virus reaches critical mass. It's the boiling point. It's the moment on the graph when the line starts to shoot straight upwards. AIDS tipped in 1982, when it went from a rare disease affecting a few gay men to a worldwide epidemic.

Tipping points then, are the levels at which the momentum for change becomes unstoppable. What Gladwell does then, is help "unpack" the process by which change becomes unstoppable.

Robert Paterson has a nice summary of The Tipping Point on his blog. Here's one of the things he says:

There are exceptional people out there who are capable of starting epidemics. All you have to do is find them. With an epidemic, a tiny majority of the people do the work.

So how is it that Gladwell defines these "special people?" He puts them into three categories that he calls "The Law of the Few":

1. Connectors are the people who "link us up with the world ... people with a special gift for bringing the world together." (page 38)

2. Mavens are "information specialists", or "people we rely upon to connect us with new information." (page 19) They accumulate knowledge and know how to share it with others.

3. Salesmen are "persuaders", charismatic people with powerful negotiation skills.

Gladwell also spends time talking about the importance of the message, which he calls the "stickiness factor," and the power of context. But the process of the spread of epidemics involves:

1. Clear examples of contagious behavior.
2. Little changes that make big effects.
3. In order to create one contagious movement, you often have to create many small movements first.

All of this makes me think we're on to something here with our talk about ripples. And I know we could all probably identify the connectors, mavens, and sales(wo)men among us. So I agree with Valtin...it won't be too long before this baby blows!!!

Revenge

I wanted to talk about something that might be a tough topic today...revenge. From Dictionary.com you will find the following definitions:

to exact punishment or expiation for a wrong on behalf of, esp. in a resentful or vindictive spirit

an opportunity to retaliate or gain satisfaction

harm done to another person in return for harm which he has done (to oneself or to someone else)

It is my belief that the desire for revenge contributed not only to so many US citizens supporting Bush's pitch to invade Iraq in the wake of 9/11, but it also fuels much of what is wrong with our criminal justice system today (especially our continuing use of the death penalty).

A couple of years ago I read a fascinating book about a woman who struggled with revenge. Her name is Laura Blumenfeld and the book is titled Revenge: A Story of Hope. In 1986, Laura's father was shot in Jerusalem by a member of a rebel faction of the PLO. Her father lived, but for years she felt the need for revenge. As the jacket description says:

Traveling through Europe, America, and the Middle East, Blumenfeld gathers stories and methods of avengers worldwide as she plots to infiltrate the shooter's life. Through interviews with Yitzhak Rabin's assassin; with members of the Albanian Blood Feud Committee; the chief of the Iranian judiciary; the mayor of Palermo, Sicily; an Egyptian heroin smuggler; the Israeli prime minister and the military chief of staff; priests; sports fans; fifth-grade girls; and prostitutes, among others, she explores the mechanics and psychology of vengeance.

Reading this book gave me a pretty good sense of what revenge means to many different people living in different cultures. But the book doesn't stop there. Having gathered this information, Laura manages to learn the identity of the man who shot her father (who was in prison at the time) and introduces herself to his family as a reporter. Over a period of months, she not only gets to know his family, but corresponds with him in prison.

In the end, she comes forward to testify on his behalf at a hearing that will determine if he is to be released from prison due to health reasons. At the time no one, including the shooter, knew of her connection to his victim. Here's how she wrote about her preparation:

Standing there as a woman named "anonymous" felt like the defining moment of my life. If this worked then the world would be as I wished...

Transformation was the word I had written on the scrap of paper and tucked into the Western Wall the night I had dressed as a Hasidic boy. Transformation was my wish. If I could be a boy, then the shooter - my symbol of evil - could be good. I could make him sorry. But it would take a radical act, something impossibly optimistic, to transform him. That act would leave me vulnerable, and possibly the fool. It would be riskier than anything I had done so far, but my mother's faith in the goodness of people gave me the courage to try.

Laura completes her radical act and finds the transformation she was looking for. But, as she said, she had to risk looking "the fool." For all of our blathering about courage, we often miss its most powerful manifestations.

You might think Laura's story is exceptional, but its not. In looking into this yesterday, I found an amazing website called The Forgiveness Project where you can read many such stories. The one that stands out to me is about the Amy Biehl Foundation. Here's a summary from The Forgiveness Project:

On August 25 1993, Amy Biehl, an American Fulbright scholar working in South Africa against apartheid, was beaten and stabbed to death in a black township near Cape Town. In 1998 the four youths convicted of her murder were granted amnesty by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) after serving five years of their sentence – a decision that was supported by Amy’s parents. Easy Nofemela and Ntobeko Peni, two of the convicted men, now work for the Amy Biehl Foundation Trust in Cape Town, a charity which dedicates its work to putting up barriers against violence.

Amy's parents, who run the foundation, embraced two young men who were responsible for killing their daughter, knowing that it was apartheid and its effects that had actually caused her death. They didn't seek revenge, they sought healing as a way to actualize their hopes and pay homage to their daughter's.

As long as we think this kind of reaction is exceptional, we continue to advance the idea that taking revenge is the norm or the most human response. I, for one, don't believe that.

On being lazy

I imagine that we were all given several labels as children that were used to define us. We were smart, funny, responsible, rebellious, shy, or the opposites... on and on. One of the labels I received as a child was that I was lazy. I remember always being frustrated, feeling like I eventually would have gotten around to getting something done if folks had given me a bit more time.



It wasn't until I was in my first professional job out of college that I began to challenge this label. All of the sudden I took a look at myself and how hard I was working. It was at that moment that I discarded the label.

And yet, as is the case with most of these things, there was some truth to it.

The interesting thing is, there were very clear signs that obviously showed it was way more complicated than that I was lazy. For example, the one comment that ALWAYS showed up on my report card was that I worked too fast and made mistakes. Upon reflection these many years later, I see that I just had different priorities than the adults in my life wanted to see from me. I found most of the things I was asked to do boring and tedious and wanted them out of the way so I could have time for what I really wanted to do...which was think, question, talk, relax.

In this culture that is so committed to action, I was always looking for time for contemplation. Many people over the years have asked me how I managed to escape the cult of the right-wing christian fundamentalism in which I was raised. The answer to that question (at least as far as I've been able to find it), is at least partly tied to this. So I continue to learn to embrace that "laziness" in me...its been a good friend so far.

One of my favorite quotes of all time comes from Gertrude Stein:

It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.

There isn't much that is reviled in this culture more than "doing nothing." But I think its a discipline that we all need to embrace more often - or at least put it into the mix of the balance in our lives. I think we all know that amidst all the consumption and greed, it is the constant frenetic pace of action that distracts us from compassion and the realities that our world is facing. As with so many other things, it is our fear of what we might find in the quiet solitude of contemplation that drives the frenetic pace. But as geomoo put so beautifully in his essay on Attention God

At the magic moments, I see the infinity of human potential. As teacher, I offer the option to let go of the compulsive thoughts, the external demands (largely imagined), and to go for what is really wanted. NO. I mean what is really, really wanted. The heart's yearning.

It is in those moments of quietness that we find our hearts and our wisdom; that we learn, as Nightprowlkitty says, to respond instead of react. And it seems obvious to me that a precursor to "paying attention" is slowing down and taking the time to quietly ponder ourselves and the world around us. Of course "yelling louder" and taking action are also important. But all of that must be grounded in the quiet moments of awareness.

I'll leave you with the words of The Eagles on all this...Learn to be Still.

There are so many contridictions
In all these messages we send
(we keep asking)
How do I get out of here
Where do I fit in?
Though the world is torn and shaken
Even if your heart is breakin’
It’s waiting for you to awaken
And someday you will-
Learn to be still
Learn to be still.

When the student is ready...

As we all know, this Buddhist saying ends with "the master (or teacher) appears." I am not a Buddhist, nor do I play one on the blogs, but this saying has grounded me for years. I think I'd substitute "learning" for "master" in the quote though, so it would read "When the student is ready, the learning appears."

(My Helper by Bill Rabbit)

Here's how Jean-Claude Gerard Koven describes it:

It is said that when the student is ready, the master appears. This adage is usually associated with going to India to sit at the feet of some swami-ji who speaks in parables. And certainly, I’ve met countless disciples who waft through life inhaling the intoxicating wisdom of their manifested master. I’ve always been left wondering when I would find my one great sage.

Looking back over my wanderings through the metaphysical maze, however, I see that innumerable teachers have guided my journey. Unfortunately, I was so married to a certain model of what a master was that I failed to recognize mine along the way. The fact is we all have gurus; it’s just that most of them aren’t obvious. They don’t have Sanskrit names, speak with a subcontinental lilt, or wear flowing robes. They appear ordinary in every way, yet turn out to be great teachers.

Yes, the teachers and learnings can come in the unlikeliest of forms, and that's why the first part of the saying is what is critical. If we're so busy looking for our guru, we miss getting "ready." So, what does it mean to be ready? That's probably a bigger question than I am capable of answering, but I can look at my own life and try to pull bits and pieces of the puzzle together, at least for what it has meant to me.

The three words that come to mind when I think about this are curiosity, dissonance and trust. Those might sound like a strange combination, so I'll explain what they've meant to me.

I think curiosity is the most obvious in laying the groundwork for being ready. If we feel we already know the answer, no learning can take place. What we need is not just an open mind, but one that has a drive to challenge the status quo, dig deeper and ask the hard questions. Complacency and certainty that we have the answers are often the biggest barriers to any kind of learning.

Perhaps dissonance is the pre-cursor to curiosity. Unless something doesn't jive or is not working, we tend to not notice. I know that when I began to challenge what I had been taught as a child, it was because that teaching didn't "square" with what I was experiencing in the world. It was uncomfortable and so I started asking questions. Many people fear that feeling and try to deny or avoid it. Others look for a guru to make it all go away. What I've learned to do is to try and just rest in it, knowing that a teacher or a learning is about to appear.

Sometimes that takes awhile and I get impatient. I want the "answers" to that feeling of dissonance to be handed to me all nicely packaged and ready to rescue me from the discomfort. And that's where trust comes in. Ultimately its not trust in a guru (although most of my learnings have come when I listen to very wise people). It is trust in me and my ability to meld my intellect and instincts together to find what it is I need to learn or to see the new path that I need to take.

We are experiencing a time of great dissonance in our country these days. I know you join me in often feeling overwhelmed with the fact that we can't always see clear answers on how to fix things. But what grounds me is the assurance that if we have the courage to ask ourselves the tough questions, embrace the dissonance, and trust our instincts...the teacher (or learning) is appearing.

Mother's Day Proclamation

I won't be writing anything this weekend because I'm heading to Texas to be with family for Mother's Day and my Mother's 80th birthday.

But I do want to share this Mother's Day Proclamation written by Julia Ward Howe.

Vision

For the last 18 years, I've been the director of a non-profit organization working with urban youth who are starting to get in trouble at home, at school, or with the law. I came to this position naive and inexperienced, so I had a pretty steep learning curve. The toughest lessons I had to learn were about what it meant to organize and lead other people. But running a close second to all of that are the ongoing lessons about racism and its impact on me, our staff, and most importantly, the youth and families we work with.



In the beginning, I thought combating racism was all about learning information and hiring a diverse group of people. For awhile, that was the focus. One of my initial attempts to do that involved organizing a series of "brown bag" seminars with people from different cultures to facilitate discussions. The first person who came in was a Latino man who had worked with youth in this community for over 30 years. I'll never forget his opening remarks, "Latinos come from 22 different countries with a vast array of cultural differences. My family comes from Mexico, so that is the only one of these that I can even begin to address." I thought boy...we're going to need a lot of seminars to cover all this!!!

It was then that I came across an African American woman who taught Social Work at a local university. She gave a presentation at a conference I attended titled "An Artistic View of Diversity." Her basic premise was to correlate what one needed to be an artist and what one needed to traverse all the different frames of diversity. Knowledge, information, and technique are all important pieces of the puzzle. But, as with art, the most important piece is the vision...how you see the world. Anyone can learn and potentially misuse the information and techniques. What one needs to be an artist is to have a view of the world that can incorporate the complexities and struggles involved in embracing diversity. She used a song as part of her presentation. And the words to the chorus have always stuck with me.

It's in every one of us
to be wise.
Find your heart,
open up both your eyes.

We can all know everything
without every knowing why.

It's in every one of us
to be wise.

The line that standsout to me is "Find your heart, open up both your eyes."



One of the critical components to the process of combating racism that she shared with us is the ability to incorporate a both/and rather than an either/or vision. An either/or vision sees the world in terms of right/wrong and winner/loser. A both/and vision finds balance and embraces all. It is a form of partnership rather than dominance and a key ingredient to that kind of vision is a balance between our outside and our inside...giving us a firm identity for ourselves and integrity in our actions. With that kind of vision, we can take responsibility for ourselves and not rely on techniques and formulas. We can open our hearts to others without fear, knowing that we all have a place at the table.

None of this takes away from the need to do the hard work of learning the information that is necessary to really begin to understand one another. But it is the foundation on which we need to build that understanding, the importance of which was described by Nezua at The Unapologetic Mexican this way:

The USA teaches us many myths: the Hero Myth, the Great White Myth, the Savages in the Wild Myth, the GodDaddyNation Myth....and so on. Fodder for our cartoons, bland teen movies, and unceasing war rationales. The truth, while somewhat less glitzy, is just as exciting, age-old, and far more empowering. For we—the centuries-strong, the been-here-all-along, the weak, the meek, the She, the black, the brown, the grown-up-from-this-ground, the despised and forgotten and the poor and ground down—are in this fight together. And it is a fight, look all around. A fight for equality, a fight for justice, and sometimes simply a fight for food and human dignity. And as long as we are divided and fighting over scraps and ladder rungs and tossed off politician-dung, there is no justice. So let us remember why it is that we stand here, why we stood up; let us loan one another our strength, and move side by side.