5 Minutes to Deep Peace on Thursday 9/13

You will be entertained at the very least and enlightenment is an option.

http://advancedmeditation.com/cmd.php?Clk=2095310

Thursday, 9/13, there is a teleconference call where you can learn more about this. There will be sample meditations and a chance at a free gift worth $400.

http://advancedmeditation.com/cmd.php?Clk=2095310 

Trust me. You want to try this. The IAM Meditations are the product of the fertile mind of Steven Sashen who is also responsible for much of the Shampoo Method we talk about here every day.

It’s completely safe. I’d trust this guy with my life.

This feeling, this is what we have all been looking for our whole lives. It’s like coming home.

Love, Ann  

Shampoo Series – Why I Cry, Part 2

It’s only 10 am. Whole Foods is playing Miles Davis.

I had to ask nearly 10 people before a fellow customer piped up and said that was definitely Miles Davis. I don’t care that it’s only 10 am and there is no Scotch in my hand – I wanted to stay and listen!

Good grief! What is happening to me? Synchronous a la Celestine Prophecy.

I was going to finish doing The Work  on the rest of those thoughts about crying, but this morning none of those thoughts are “sticking.” They’re like Teflon.

Time to move on.

My friend, Russ, asked me why I cry.

He says he asked me several times and I brushed it off. I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, I was tense, but thinking back – he’s right. I did. I do that to everyone, especially lovers, Jared & Becky, the people I cry around the most.

God, what would we do without other people to notice these things and mirror them back to us?

“It is impossible to remember God in secret and alone. For remembering Him means you are not alone, and are willing to remember it. The lonely journey fails because it has excluded what it would find.”

–  A Course in Miracles (T 274/295)

 

Okay, so why do I cry?

And why do I brush off well-meaning friends who ask about it?

I cry because it’s hopeless.

I cry because I am upset.

I cry because I’m frustrated.

I cry because I’ll never find a man I love who loves me back, is compatible enough to live with, marry, and spend the better part of the rest of my life with and wants to do that, now, with me.

Oh ducks, I should just stop there. But . . .

Why do I brush off well-meaning friends who ask why I cry?

I brush off my friend’s questions because I’m embarrassed.

I don’t want them to know why I’m crying.

I think I should have this resolved by now.

I think they think I should have this resolved by now.

I’m lying to them and to myself.

I’m shutting them out, shutting out their help, trying to do this alone.

I think I should be able to resolve this by myself.

“When you meet anyone, remember it is a holy encounter. As you see him you will see yourself. As you treat him you will treat yourself. As you think of him you will think of yourself. Never forget this, for in him you will find yourself or lose yourself.”

– A Course in Miracles  

I’m going to do the 2 pithiest of those thoughts here.

I cry because I’ll never find a man I love who loves me back, is compatible enough to live with, marry, and spend the better part of the rest of my life with and wants to do that, now, with me. 

and

I brush them off because I’m shutting my friends out, shutting out their help, trying to do this alone.

Starting with the first one:

I cry because I’ll never find a man I love who loves me back, is compatible enough to live with, marry, and spend the better part of the rest of my life with and wants to do that, now, with me. 

Sidetrack:  I burst out laughing at brunch last Sunday and didn’t bother to explain myself. I laughed for several minutes. I had just had this same thought. I laughed because I’ve only fallen in love 3 times in the last 3 months.  With that sort of frequency, the odds of finding someone are greatly improved. It’s not as if I’m not meeting men who are potentially ready to go for it with me. I am.  

This is one of what Steven calls “my favorite ways to recreate that familiar sense of self.” From the time I loved my father, went down on him, went through that confusing time as a little girl, and struggled with the fact that he would never be mine, this has been a very familiar sense of self.

I’ve married 3 wonderful men, lived with 2 others and a woman who means the world to me. They all do.  

I confess. I’m at the turn around with this, but let me flesh it out a bit. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to skip steps.

Here is the thought again:

I’ll never find a man I love who loves me back, is compatible enough to live with, marry, and spend the better part of the rest of my life with and wants to do that, now, with me.

When we have a long, complicated thought, we already know we’re lying. The Truth is simple.

So, we break it down into pieces and investigate each piece, or we find the core idea. I’m thinking something like:

I’ll never be happily married again.

Yeah, that’s what’s at the root here.

Is it true?

Well, I can’t know that right now. I’m not there yet. But I feel that familiar tightness that tells me somewhere I’m lying to myself.

Can I absolutely know that it’s true that I’ll never be happily married again?

Nope. You lose me fast on “absolutely.” I can’t even absolutely know the sun will come up tomorrow. Don’t get me to lying.  ; )

How do I react – how do I live my life – when I believe that “I’ll never be happily married again?”

LOL (Sorry, I try to avoid IM text abbreviations.)

But I’m seriously laughing here.

I answer personals ads written by men who want “middle ground” relationships. I tense up. I feel unloved and unlovable. I get so intense and riled up that I push people away. I feel desperate. I feel hopeless and helpless.

Today, I’m going to use some of the sub-questions from the Self-Facilitation or One-Belief-at-a-Time Worksheet.

Whose business am I in when I think that I’ll never be happily married again?

There are, if you check, only 3 kinds of business: mine, God’s and someone else’s.

This one is clearly God’s and someone else’s.

When I say “God,” if the word bugs you, just read it as “Universe” or “All That Is” or “Helman’s Mayonnaise.” I don’t care and it doesn’t really matter.

How do I treat myself when I believe I’ll never be happily married again?

Not well. Badly. I tell myself I’m not good enough, not lovable, not pretty enough or thin enough, I’m too old or that I need a better job, better car, more money, or different interests (like snowboarding, hiking, skiing) that I spend too much time reading, going to seminars, having coffee or tea with friends. Basically, I’m a fuck-up and don’t do anything right.

Sound familiar? We’ve all done it in our own forms.

How do I treat others when I believe I’ll never be happily married again?

Intensely. I talk too much, try to share everything I am, everything I know. Or the opposite. I distance myself. I’m not genuine or in the moment. I am in the past or the future with my thoughts.  Which means nothing is real. That’s not where I am.

Does this thought, “I’ll never be happiy mmarried again,” bring me peace or stress?

Stress, most definitely.

Can you find one peaceful reason to keep this thought? (and if you find one, check)

I’m not finding anything peaceful in that thought at all. Wanting is always stressful. All ways.

On to the 4th question:

Who would I be without the thought, “I’ll never be happily married again?”

Relaxed, real, peaceful. Enjoying who I’m with and what I’m doing.

Oh, is that all? (dripping loving sarcasm at myself)

Turn it around.

I will be happily married again.

Is that at least as true or truer? Most likely. Feels that way. I haven’t had any trouble getting married 3 times so far.

I am happily married now.

*laugher*

Well, yes, to myself, to God.  Marriage meaning union, one with.

Basking a little in the relaxation this produced.

Do you see any turn arounds I missed?

Next?

I brush off my friends because I’m shutting them out, shutting out their help, trying to do this alone.

Hmm, also too long for Truth.

Let’s go with “I can resolve this alone.”

Is that true?

Nope.

I often joke that if we were meant to do this alone, we would be on a planet by ourselves, not one with 6 BILLION other people here with us. There is a clue in that. 

Can I absolutely know that it’s true that I can resolve this alone?

Nuh uh. Haven’t so far. I’ve always had help from above, a little help from my friends. You know?

How do I react – how do I live my life when I believe I can resolve this – my desire to be married – alone?

I shut out my friends. I shut out lovers. I shut out people who ask why I’m crying. I spend a weekend by myself, tense, trying to relax, succeeding some, but still shutting out what was bothering me. I shut out sex completely, starting 100 days of abstinence. I nearly shut out food. A fast would be good, but I haven’t been, really. I get very, very tired. I write lots of emails. I go to bed early or I stay up late. Neither one works. My sleep isn’t as restful as it could be. I feel guilty just being alive. I wonder about suicide. I wonder what it’s like to hit oncoming cars or fall off bridges. (I really want to delete those sentences, but I do that. I’m sure other people do, too.)

Sooooo….

Does this thought “I can resolve this – my desire to be married – alone” bring me peace or stress?

Stress, stress, stress.

Can I see a reason to drop this thought (and don’t try to drop it)? Oh definitely.

Can I find any peaceful reason to keep this thought (again, don’t try to drop it)? No.

Okay, then…

Who would I be without this thought?  (I can resolve this – my desire to be married – alone.)

Asking for help, letting Russ, Jared, Becky and others in, telling them why I’m crying, or at least why I think I’m crying – I have to start somewhere – peaceful, more relaxed around others, more genuine, more fun to be around, less intense, less needing to get it all out or hold it all in. More content when I am alone.

I have to laugh, too, marriage is usually two people. I mean, even if I do what Jared did and don saffron robes and swear obedience to a guru, or become a nun and marry God, there are still two parts to marriage in one way or another. How would anyone resolve that alone?

Sure, I could decide to be alone, celibate, a hermit in a cave. I’m still not truly alone. There would be all those rocks and thoughts that looked like they were there with me, the sky, the Sun, you know. I’m never alone.

Turn it around?

I can resolve this – my desire to be married – alone.

I can’t resolve this – my desire to be married – alone.

Is that thought at least as true or truer? Yes.

Is there another Turn Around?

I can resolve this – my desire to be married – alone?  

I can resolve my desire to be married with others.

Yes, that is at least as true or truer. Probably truer.

Hmm, what’s the opposite of married?  Single.

I can resolve this – my desire to be single – alone?

Of course. That’s at least as true.

I can resolve my thinking alone.

Obviously. Ain’t nobody here but us chickens right now.

I think that will do for now.

Love, Ann

“Your brothers are everywhere. You do not have to seek far for salvation. Every minute and every second gives you a chance to save yourself. Do not lose these chances, not because they will not return, but because delay of joy is needless.”

– A Course in Miracles (T 163/175)

Instant Advanced Meditation – Free Samples
http://www.advancedmeditation.com/cmd.php?af=570391

Kirtan is Indian Jazz!

Live kirtan in the US is jazz.

Go listen to anyone live and you’ll see what I mean: Krishna Das, Dave Stringer, Shim Shai, Tina Malia, Scott Medina, Deva Premal, Miten… if you have heard any one of them, you know what I am talking about. I’ve heard all of them live and I own recordings by all of them.

Yes, there’s repetition, which soothes my Priest Scholar soul, but there is also improvisation in live performance. Every time. It’s never the same twice.

Instead of saxophones and whatever, kirtan has a harmonium and tabla. Of course, there is definitely a trumpet player in our local kirtan group, and I’ve seen a pretty wide variety of instruments, including electric guitars, played for kirtan.

Sonofabiscuit-lover… kirtan as I learned it in the US is jazz, at least when it’s live.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirtan

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bhajan

Both articles mention that “While most Hindus and Sikhs devoutly sing Kirtan in its more traditional form, there are smaller groups that experiment with incorporation of non-Indian instruments like the guitar and interspersing Western themes like jazz into the fold.”

I get pretty blissed out on the stuff. I’m sure I look like I’m having sex as I sit cross-legged, swaying, my back arched, eyes closed and hands raised singing my heart out.

Hey, you’ve got your Jazz in my Kirtan!  No, you’ve got my Kirtan in your Jazz!

Love, Ann

My analyst told me
That I was right out of my head
The way he described it
He said Id be better dead than live
I didnt listen to his jive
I knew all along
That he was all wrong
And I knew that he thought
I was crazy but Im not
Oh no

My analyst told me
That I was right out of my head
He said Id need treatment
But Im not that easily led
He said I was the type
That was most inclined
When out of his sight
To be out of my mind
And he thought I was nuts
No more ifs or ands or buts

They say as a child
I appeared a little bit wild
With all my crazy ideas
But I knew what was happening
I knew I was a genius…
Whats so strange when you know
That youre a wizard at three
I knew that this was meant to be

Now I heard little children
Were supposed to sleep tight
Thats why I got into the vodka one night
My parents got frantic
Didnt know what to do
But I saw some crazy scenes
Before I came to
Now do you think I was crazy
I may have been only three
But I was swinging

They all laugh at angry young men
They all laugh at edison
And also at einstein
So why should I feel sorry
If they just couldnt understand
The idiomatic logic
That went on in my head
I had a brain
It was insane
Oh they used to laugh at me
When I refused to ride
On all those double decker buses
All because there was no driver on the top

My analyst told me
That I was right out of my head
But I said dear doctor
I think that its you instead
Because I have got a thing
Thats unique and new
To prove it Ill have
The last laugh on you
cause instead of one head
I got two
And you know two heads are better than one.

Performed by Joni Mitchell 

Author?

All That Jazz

Daddy loves jazz.

He also likes schmaltzy piano bar stuff and Muzak. He says it calms his nerves. I believe him.

Unfortunately, it has for decades had the opposite effect on me. I’ve always blamed it on associating the stuff with Daddy. I used to say that if all of the saxophones in the world simultaneously self-destructed I would not miss them . . . until someone pointed out that my precious Joni Mitchell would never be the same without it.

“Reality is kinder than your thinking,” says Byron Katie.

After the conversation with Russ that I blogged about yesterday in “Love is Space,” and the way he made me so physically conscious of how powerful that space is, I decided to listen to some Miles Davis as he suggested.

Miles Davis was born 3 days after Daddy, different year.  

Damn.

Oh damn.

It is entirely fitting, though, that I heal my relationships, not just with Daddy, but also with jazz.

I called Marie, who has a jazz degree, and told her about the conversation with Russ. I asked her which album to get if I was going to listen to only one Miles Davis album as the best example of how he used antici – – – – pation and spaces between notes. She immediately said, “Sketches of Spain.” She also recommended Ella Fitzgerald and . . . oh no . . . Frank Sinatra . . . for vocal spaces between notes.

Oh no.

sigh 

I guess I should just shut up and try it.

The clerk at Sound Warehouse told me she goes to sleep to Miles Davis every night and offered, with her hand on my arm, to copy her CD for me. We exchanged email and phone numbers. No, I’m not going back to women, but I’m certainly having some encounters with them right now. Must be the abstinence.

“Turn off the lights. Light your candles and lie back,” Marie said.

So, first I read the liner notes.

“Sketches of Spain” was recorded beginning in November, 1959, one month before I was born, and completed a few months later in 1960. That’s kind of interesting. I’m going to ask Mother if she had it. I’ll bet she did, and played it while I was a baby.

Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.

I wonder what he was like in bed? From what I hear, it would not be too hard to find out, but he died in 1991.

Mother loves jazz, too.

There’s that reality stuff again. When I notice lies like “I don’t like jazz.” and “I don’t like jazz because Daddy played it,” the truth that Mother played and likes it, too, pops up ever so much more easily.

So, I lit two vanilla candles, turned off the lights, turned on “Sketches of Spain,” and immediately it turned me on. 

Oh God. Sex for my ears.

Reality is so much kinder than my thinking.

I have known for a while that it was no longer accurate to say I don’t like jazz. Car on a Hill by Joni, maybe the whole Court and Spark album, which, while definitely so clingy and codependent in its lyrics that it is now painful to hear most of the time, has a jazz influence. Certainly that bridge in Troubled Child and Twisted which I love so much has, well, yes, a saxophone.

Yes, yes, I realize Miles is playing trumpet.

Now I have to call Marie and ask her about the saxophone.

Since it’s 7 am there is no way on Earth she is awake right now. Maybe Wikipedia . . .

Wikipedia says, “The saxophone was developed circa 1840 by Adolphe Sax, a Belgian-born instrument-maker, flautist, and clarinetist working in Paris.” Okay.

It goes on to say, “Arguably, the most famous Saxophone solo in the so-called ‘Classical’ repertoire has to be The Old Castle from the orchestral work Pictures at an Exhibition by Modest Mussorgsky.”

You’re kidding. I love Pictures at Exhibition. I don’t know which piece that is. I’m going to have to find it, and the sax it rode in on. Hmph and hmm at the same time.

Wikipedia’s list of famous saxophonists is pages long. Still have to call Marie.

So, now I’m confused.

I know there is jazz I have not liked. Maybe it’s bad copies of the good stuff. Maybe it’s a certain part of the genre, which has so many varieties. I’m going to have to find out.

I was curious, too. Queen has an album that I love called Jazz. Reviewing it, I am certain you could not really call a single piece on that album jazz. It has Mustapha and Fat Bottomed Girls, a couple of my favorites, after Killer Queen and Bohemian Rhapsody. But I digress. It’s not jazz.

Oh, one more digression. All That Jazz is one of my favorite movies. It’s about Bob Fosse. I can’t imagine liking the movie without liking the score. Hmm. Reality thickens.

I guess I have to admit that I like jazz.

Love, Ann