LEE KLINGER LESSER
Newsletter - October, 2011
Warm greetings,
Almost two weeks ago, I returned from a seven week journey. I was leading Sensory Awareness workshops in Canada and Spain for three weeks, and then traveling for one month through Europe with my husband, celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary. It was a journey of great spaciousness and generosity. I had lots of time to discover and abide in my own inner spaciousness. I felt more ease in connection with myself and with others.
Coming home after being away for so long, it has taken me some time to digest my journeys and to enter the challenging schedule and multi-layered tasks facing me now. I am very late in sending out the announcements of Sensory Awareness workshops this year. (They are all described below and on my website, www.ReturnToOurSenses.com.) The events and retreats for Veterans, sponsored by Honoring the Path of the Warrior, the organization that I helped to create, are also described below.
Pausing and Freedom
As I jump into my new schedule, I have been noticing how easily I feel cramped inside and pressured. I do not feel the same generosity of time and spaciousness as I did on my summer journey. I have been reflecting on "pausing" and "freedom." What can help me live with spaciousness in the midst of busyness and intense demands? When I pause, even for 15 seconds, one minute or five minutes it has an impact on me: a fresh perspective, new connection, a release of self-constricting energy. And when these changes occur in me, it changes my relationship to whatever is happening and whomever I am with.
I keep rediscovering that the most clear path to freedom is in pausing to be present, and to meet what is there. Last night I was "gifted" a new opportunity to practice with this.
I spent many hours working on this newsletter and at 1:15 a.m. I had only one more workshop to insert. I was feeling relieved and happy as I was close to completing this task. Then while I was looking for final photos to add, I was timed out of the connection to the internet service, and when I went back in, nothing was saved. I had a blank screen.
I sat there stunned. And all I could do was pause and breathe. And go to sleep. I had no more energy to work on it. As I woke up this morning, I recognized the strange irony and blessing of starting new. A new opportunity for me to explore spaciousness, generosity and connection that is not dependent on outward situations but is dependent on my presence and relationship to the reality of what is there.
This is the essence of Sensory Awareness practice: being present for whatever is there to be met, beyond our picking and choosing. Our sensations are wonderful allies in this process. So, here I am starting new. I am not thrilled, and yet I am slowing down and breathing. I am finding simple joy in these moments as I reach out to connect. I feel the heaviness in my eyelids from lack of sleep. I feel the movement of the keys on the computer and the contact with each touch. I feel the movement of breath, as the air finds its own path through me coming in and going out. There is an old saying that I like: "I cannot control the wind, but I can adjust my sails."
Rooted Connection and Constant Movement
The trees in this photo invite me to be present, and to somehow rest in the rooted connection to each moment. I saw them in a gentle forest in Austria this summer. I stood there with them and felt their swaying and their fluid relationship with the wind even in the midst of their rootedness. They were in constant movement.
We are also in constant movement. Each moment offers us a new opportunity to be connected and present. Simple tiny interactions can actually have powerful impacts in ways we might never imagine. Two one-minute phone calls recently highlight this for me.
The Impact of One Minute
The other morning I was trying to reach a handyman to do some work in my home. I was given a phone number for him. I knew he got up early so I called his number at about 7:30 a.m. A voice answered, and when I asked for the person I was looking for, he said, "You've got the wrong number." I repeated the number and he waited patiently and then said, "You've got the wrong number." I apologized and in the most upbeat, warm, loving voice he said, "It's all good baby!" The warmth in his voice cheered me all day. He simply exuded friendliness and warmth, and it opened me.
A few days later I received a phone call at my home. It was a solicitation call for some business. A woman's tired voice repeated her script. I cut her off, and began to snap at her: "We are on a no call list etc." Suddenly I remembered "It's all good, baby!" and I could feel the dramatic contrast with what I was bringing into the life of this woman and into my own. I heard the weariness in her voice. She was already hanging up, as I said, "I know it's not your fault. Have a good day." As I put the phone down, I felt clumsy and somewhat dull inside. I wondered about what is happening in her life. I imagined she was a single mother trying to support her child. Who knows what her story is. I was left with the heaviness of my energy towards her and how I lived that moment of our lives.
I reflected on what I bring into the world with each contact. How do I take care of myself, and find my own ground and spaciousness to pause, to feel the richness of connection, and the joy of "It's all good, baby," no matter what is happening? Even in the midst of weariness, anger, deep sadness and grief, where is the connection to the aliveness that is right there? How do we live each moment just as it is with everything we have, knowing deeply that these are the only moments we actually do have?
One of my favorite poems was written by Antonio Machado, a Spanish poet. A few lines are: "Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar." "Traveler, there is no path. The path is created with each step you take."
So, I keep learning and growing and discovering the path with each step I take. I look forward to exploring and learning together with all of you whose lives intersect with mine.
Lee