Friday, 29 January 2016

Absurd Heroism

Absurd Heroism - Margaret Wheatley
 
Consider Sisyphus. As described in both Greek and Roman mythology, Sisyphus was condemned by the gods to an eternity of futile and hopeless labor. He had to roll a rock to the top of the mountain, only to watch it tumble back down from its own weight and the natural force of gravity. Then he would roll it to the top again. Forever. The French existential philosopher Albert Camus wrote an essay about absurd heroism and the despair it caused entitled "The Myth of Sisyphus."
 
Sisyphus had no choice -- he had been condemned by the gods. But we do have a choice. We can notice the price we're paying for our absurd heroism, for believing that it's up to us. I hear so many people who want to take at least partial responsibility for this mess. Somewhat piously, as if summoning us to accountability, they say, "We need to accept responsibility that we created this" or "We created it, so we can change it." No we didn't. And no we can't. We participated with innumerable other players and causes and this is what emerged. We can't take credit for it, we can't blame ourselves and we can't put the burden of change on us. We're not Sisyphus, condemned to a fate of absurd heroism.
 
If Sisyphus had been a free agent, he would have noticed that gravity was the problem. We have to notice that emergence is the problem, as unchallengeable a force as gravity.
 
Let's fully face the brave new world that has emerged and put down our boulder -- the energy destroying belief that we can change the world. Let us walk away from that mountain of despair-inducing failures and focus instead on people in front of us, our colleagues, communities and families. Let us work together to embody the values that we treasure, and not worry about creating successful models that will transform other people. Let us focus on transforming ourselves to be little islands of good caring people, doing right work, assisting where we can, maintaining peace and sanity, people who have learned how to be gentle, decent and brave ... even as the dark ocean that has emerged continues to storm around us.

About the Author: Margaret Wheatley is an author, visionary and thinker.  The excerpt above comes from her most recent book, So Far From Home.  

Thursday, 28 January 2016

The Same Self Is In All Of Us

The Same Self Is in All of Us - Eknath Easwaran
 
The same spark of divinity–this same Self–is enshrined in every creature. My real Self is not different from yours nor anyone else’s. If we want to live in the joy that increases with time, if we want to live in true freedom independent of circumstances, then we must strive to realize that even if there are four people in our family or forty at our place of work, there is only one Self.
 
This realization enables us to learn to conduct ourselves with respect to everyone around us, even if they provoke us or dislike us or say unkind things about us. And that increasing respect will make us more and more secure. It will enable us gradually to win everybody’s respect, even those who disagree with us or seem disagreeable.
 
Most of us can treat others with respect under certain circumstances–at the right time, with the right people, in a certain place. When those circumstances are absent, we usually move away. Yet when we respond according to how the other person behaves, changing whenever she changes, and she is behaving in this same way, how can we expect anything but insecurity on both sides? There is nothing solid to build on.
 
Instead, we can learn to respond always to the Self within–focusing not on the other person’s ups and downs, likes and dislikes, but always on what is changeless in each of us. Then others grow to trust us. They know they can count on us–and that makes us more secure too.
 
We can try to remember this always: the same Self that makes us worthy of respect and love is present equally in everyone around us. It is one of the surest ways I know of to make our latent divinity a reality in daily life.

About the Author: Sourced from Eknath Easwaran's Blue Mountain Journal, Winter 2015, Volume 26, No. 3. Eknath Easwaran

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

Unshakeable Faith

Faith can convert misfortune into blessings, explains Dada J P Vaswani through a story (Extract from the book "Lessons Life Has Taught Me" - Gita Publishing House.)

Long ago, there was an ascetic who lived in a small village in northern India. He lived on the alms the villagers thoughtfully provided. His needs were simple. He spent the daytime mostly in prayer and silent meditation. In the evening, he would freely share his thoughts with the villagers who came to him, as they would go to a satsang. Every time people approached him with their problems and grievances, the ascetic dispensed advice and practical solutions. It would be no exaggeration to say that all the villagers looked upon him as a guru and guardian of their welfare.

Sometimes, mothers would haul their naughty or disobedient children up to him, and he would narrate stories that would inspire the young ones to behave well. Feuding brothers would present before him their dispute over some ancestral property, and the seer would offer wise counsel to settle their quarrel amicably. When people expected him to cure mysterious illnesses, the old man would smear holy ash on the forehead of the sick, and offer miracle water that he had blessed by reciting the Naam Jaap. Rarely did these remedies fail the villagers. In time, they learnt to respect his wisdom and sagely advice.

One evening, the villagers walked up to the ascetic with very worried faces. They reported something quite strange. Overnight, every rooster, hen and chicken in the village had succumbed to some mysterious illness. “Swamiji, we are shocked and very upset with this loss,” they cried. “All our poultry is gone, and with it, a sizeable source of our livelihood. Why did all this happen? And what shall we do?”

The ascetic closed his eyes and pondered for a minute or two. Then he pronounced, “Whatever has happened, has happened because it is the Lord’s will. Accept it, for it must be for your own good.”

The villagers had much faith in his words and dispersed quietly, accepting it as the seer said.

A few days later, another disaster struck the village. All the dogs in the village fell to a strange and mysterious illness. Again, the distraught villagers rushed to their guru and narrated the strange and untoward happening. “What is happening to us, Swamiji?” they asked in unison. “Does it portend something terrible will befall us?”

Once again, the saint spent a few moments in silent prayer. Then he said to the villagers, “Go in peace; all that happens, happens with his will. And his will is the best for us all.”

The villagers were now a little perplexed. Their guru had always given them sound and practical advice to solve their problems. But of late, he had taken to simply saying that all problems that occurred were for their own good! They could not understand the logic underlying his words. But their faith in him was implicit and absolute, and they were content to obey him.

The following day, the entire village, men, women and children, rushed out to meet him early in the morning. The fire in the kitchen of the villagers got put out overnight. In those days, as there were no matchsticks, lighting fire was a difficult task. Villagers would keep the fire burning in their huts simply by covering them partially; a few sparks would help them rekindle the fire the following day. But now that every fire had died out, nobody could cook any food!

The seer spent a long time in meditation before addressing the villagers “Believe me when I tell you that this,  too, is for your own good. Go home peacefully now. We cannot cook any food today, but an occasional fast will not do us any harm.”

The villagers were completely mystified. The younger ones mumbled. “It’s alright for him, as he is a renunciate. But we are the ones who will find it difficult to fast!”

Later that day, an unforeseen event occurred. The region was invaded by marauding tribes from across the border and the chieftain of the tribes had a single goal: To loot, kill and destroy all the people and their villages. The armies of the invaders marched by the opposite bank of the river, identifying villages from afar by the smoke arising from the chimneys and the sound of dogs barking or cocks crowing. The raiders would then swoop down on the unsuspecting villagers, loot, plunder and kill and leave as quickly as they had arrived.

Now in this particular village, the residents could hear the galloping horses and the terrible battle cries of the marauders. They shook with fear. But the armies passed them by completely. No smoke could be seen, there were no dogs to bark and no cocks to crow. The invading chieftain ordered his soldiers to move on to the next village, for this village, as he could see, was obviously uninhabited. And the villagers had a lucky escape!

They rushed to the ascetic and fell at his feet, tears of gratitude flowing from their eyes. He blessed them and said, “Dear brothers and sisters, there is a meaning of mercy in all that happens to us. When the Lord abides in our hearts, we have nothing to fear.” 

Monday, 25 January 2016

Sparking Curiosity By Embracing Uncertainty

Our minds crave closure, but when we latch onto it prematurely we miss beautiful and important moments along the way -- Jamie Holmes
 
How to Spark Curiosity in Children Through Embracing Uncertainty - By Linda Flanagan 
In the classroom, subjects are often presented as settled and complete. Teachers lecture students on the causes of World War I, say, or the nature of matter, as if no further questioning is needed because all the answers have been found.
 
In turn, students regurgitate what they’ve been told, confident they’ve learned all the facts and unaware of the mysteries that remain unexplored. Without insight into the holes in our knowledge, students mistakenly believe that some subjects are closed. They lose humility and curiosity in the face of this conceit.
 
But our collective understanding of any given subject is never complete, according to Jamie Holmes, who has just written a book on the hidden benefits of uncertainty. In “Nonsense: The Power of Not Knowing,” Holmes explores how the discomforting notions of ambiguity and uncertainty affect the way we think and behave. Confronting what we don’t know sometimes triggers curiosity.
 
He wants students to grapple with uncertainty to spark their curiosity and better prepare them for the “real world,” where answers are seldom clear-cut or permanent. Whether exploring black holes or a Shakespearean sonnet, students should be comfortable challenging the received wisdom. There’s already a believer of the uncertain in science — Columbia neuroscience professor Stuart Firestein, who argues that “insightful ignorance” drives science.
 
“We’re much more certain about facts than we should be,” Holmes said. “A lot of this will be challenged, and it should not be embarrassing.”
 
If students can be made to feel comfortable with uncertainty — if they’re learning in an environment where ambiguity is welcome and they are encouraged to question facts — then they are more apt to be curious and innovative in their thinking.
 
Approaching knowledge this way is difficult for students and teachers, however, because ambiguity spurs unpleasant feelings. Indeed, studies show that the typical response to uncertainty is a rush for resolution, often prematurely, and heightened emotions.
 
“Our minds crave closure, but when we latch onto it prematurely we miss beautiful and important moments along the way,” Holmes said, including the opportunity to explore new ideas or consider novel interpretations. And teachers have additional challenges in presenting facts as fluid: appearing less than certain about their field of expertise can feel risky in a classroom of merciless teenagers.
 
But teachers who hope to inspire curiosity in their students, and to encourage tolerance for ambiguity, can take steps to introduce uncertainty into the classroom. Holmes offers several recommendations.
 
Address the emotional impact of uncertainty. “The emotions of learning are surprise, awe, interest and confusion,” Holmes said. But because confusion provokes discomfort, it should be discussed by teachers to help students handle the inevitable disquiet. “Students have to grow comfortable not just with the idea that failure is a part of innovation, but with the idea that confusion is, too,” Holmes writes. Teachers can help students cope with these feelings by acknowledging their emotional response and encouraging them to view ambiguity as a learning opportunity.
 
Assign projects that provoke uncertainty. One way to help students grow more comfortable with confusion is to assign projects that are likely to flummox them. Holmes identifies three techniques for doing so: inviting students to find mistakes; asking them to present arguments for alien viewpoints; and providing assignments that students will fail. “The best assignments should make students make mistakes, be confused and feel uncertain,” he said.
 
Adopt a non-authoritarian teaching style to encourage exploration, challenge and revision. Teachers who instruct with a sense of humanity, curiosity and an appreciation for mystery are more apt to engage students in learning, Holmes explained. “Those with an outlook of authority and certainty don’t invite students in,” he said. Also, when teachers present themselves as experts imparting wisdom, students get the mistaken idea that subjects are closed. “Teachers should help students find ways to think and learn,” he said. “The best teachers are in awe of their subjects.”
 
Emphasize the current topics of debate in a field. To give students a clearer sense of the mutability of facts, discuss the ongoing debates among academics and others on some “settled” subjects. Sharing what researchers, historians and theorists are arguing about now makes clear that questioning and challenging facts are what drive discovery.
 
Invite guest speakers to share the mysteries they’re exploring. In his class on ignorance, Columbia professor Firestein welcomes scientists across a spectrum of fields to talk about the unknowns they’re investigating. Chemists, statisticians, zoologists and others share with students the ambiguities that excite them, opening students’ minds to the vast unknowns waiting to be examined.
 
Show how the process of discovery is often messy and non-linear. Rather than present breakthroughs as the logical result of a long trek toward understanding, teachers can share with students how discoveries are often made: through trial and error, missteps, happy accidents and chance. Firestein describes scientific discovery as “groping and probing and poking, and some bumbling and bungling, and then a switch is discovered, often by accident, and the light is lit.” All the poking around in the unknown, he adds, is what makes science exhilarating.
 
How Could This Look At Home?
 
When Mollie Cueva-Dabkoski was growing up, her mother took her to the library every week to read stories together. When the storytelling ended, her mother asked questions that challenged the narrative and pressed Mollie to reconsider the protagonist’s motives, or to rethink the gender norms.
 
“She pushed me to question the world around me,” Cueva-Dabkoski said.
 
Cueva-Dabkoski, however, was troubled by all that she didn’t know. Raised by a single mother in San Francisco, and educated at an underfunded public school nearby, she worried that her ignorance about all manner of subjects would interfere with her ability to perform at college. Cueva-Dabkoski had always been curious and driven, but she doubted whether she possessed sufficient intellectual tools.
 
Awareness of the gaps in her knowledge spurs Cueva-Dabkoski to learn. So, she decided, “I taught myself how to be a critical thinker.” Today, she’s a junior at Johns Hopkins University, majoring in sociology and public health.
 
Though Cueva-Dabkoski laments what she calls the “product-driven” nature of higher education, she continues to challenge and explore, inside the classroom and out. As a teenager, Cueva-Dabkoski began to make a list of concepts she wanted to understand by age 20, and she continues to work her way down the list. Some subjects on that list? String theory, democracy in Burma, the history of Bhutan. How to explain her wide-ranging curiosity? “There are big gaps in my knowledge,” she said.
 

Be The Change: Practice curiosity today: each time you feel sure about something, explore where there might be some uncertainty behind your conviction.
 
Sourced From www.dailygood.org

Friday, 22 January 2016

Love In The Corporate Context

Love In The Corporate Context - Swami Sukhabodhananda

Love has mysterious ways of being fulfilled. All of us seek fulfillment in some form or other. Some seek it in relationships; others seek it through power, name, fame or money. The common factor, however, is the truth that all of us seek fulfillment.  All things that we seek, except love, put us in “wanting mode” and not in “fulfilling mode”.  Love is the only energy which mysteriously makes you feel fulfilled.

So, in the corporate context, can you bring in love?  Yes, if you do what you love and love what you do. Love your work, love your difficulties, and love the richness of difference between you and your boss. What is wrong with having differences?  Why should you see the difference without the energy of love?  If you bring love energy to your work front, then you won’t be needing a holiday from work, for the work itself becomes a holiday.

Love is experienced when you accept people for what they are and motivate them to peak their potential.  Love makes one enjoy one’s relationship and one’s work and builds trust. Through this process, you accept the weakness and faults of the other - be it your boss or spouse - and learn to love them for what they are.

During the civil war, someone approached Abraham Lincoln and said, “We have an enemy, and somehow we should get rid of them. Destroy them”.   Lincoln responded, “If I turn my enemy into a friend, have I not slain my enemy?”

This is the power of love.  Lincoln continued his commitment to make friends of his enemies. Can we learn from Lincoln the power of love, the power of commitment?
In one’s organisation there can be internal enemies. Instead of being stressed out, learn to love them, accept them, make friends and transform them. The whole process involves love, which leads to fulfilment.

Love gives the power of “direct perception”.  In day to day living, there is no direct perception because your perception is through resistance.  You resist through your likes and dislikes. Your likes and dislikes become your rigid framework.

Without direct perception, in the corporate world, you can’t see others objectively; for your rigid likes and dislikes interfere in your perception. You try to safeguard and protect what you want and hence are not free to see the other objectively.

Understanding happens, when you see the “other” person as he is.  This is true both at the workplace and at home. Understanding comes through being aware of “what is”. To know “what is”, you should not allow your interpretation, prejudice, and conclusions to interfere in your perception.  See “what is” without condemnation, without giving personal slants that is always in “self-love”.

True love is not self-love. Self-love is exclusive whereas true love is always inclusive; it is never exclusive. When you exclude the other, you are in conflict with the other and hence there is chaos. When you truly love the other, then you include the other so that you are not in conflict. Team spirit happens in such an inclusive space.

The corporate world will be in pink of health, if you learn to explore how to bring in love as the basis of your work. This should be our real goal. From this backdrop, go ahead in reaching your materialistic targets. Then life is truly fulfilling.

Thursday, 21 January 2016

The Power Of Not Knowing

All we know is still infinitely less than all that remains unknown. --William Harvey

The Power Of Not Knowing

--by Wayne Muller, Nov 21, 2015

In the high desert, the myriad threads of summer spun from the most essential of elements – air and fire, water and earth – begin gathering and interweaving throughout the day, morning, noon, mid-afternoon, a complex ancient familiar yet freshly new dance across time. Small white puff flakes gather behind mountains, clouds purely white grow, rise, slowly, then more quickly, suddenly shades of grays and deep blue blacks winds pick up trees sway leaves flail thunderheads able to release some deluge or a dry, dusty, broken promise of rain teasing darkness. The size and scale of such moments are beyond imagining, even as cacophonies of cloud and thunder shake the earth and saturate the sky.

Have you ever seen the whole sky, really, and all at once? No. It is too vast. Only a few hundred miles here or there. Never the whole thing, perhaps from space, but then it is flattened by distance, or perspective. This sky defies perspective. It is palpable, you touch it, smell it, feel the weight of it upon you, in all its luminous enormity.

What elements converge, what heat, what moisture, what earth, what air, what charge, electric, positive, negative, call this into being? Thunder lightning so eternal so many studies yet no single theory exists.

So. We are left with a most true thing we do not understand. It is magic. Why sometimes yes, sometimes no? Why sometimes only wind and heat, or wind and cool? Why sometimes a deluge so swift it takes small unsuspecting children at play, innocent, in the arroyo and surprises them with a journey that often takes them to a far distant shore, beyond this home, beyond life itself.

Only in this place could indigenous generations of sky-watchers birth a word for this: Virga. A word known only here, a word to give name to streams of living rain that fall from clouds in torrential rivers so full of moisture they are visible for a hundred miles.
But they never reach the ground.

Stand simply still eyes scanning any horizon and, spilling forth from darkening gathered stormy formations, you will witness delicate wisping trails of soaking rain descending, deliberate, downward, falling gravity destined for the earth below, yet somehow along the way the high desert air is itself so fiercely thirsty you watch as the air drinks these torrents of water drop by drop until the trail of simply ends, mid-sky, halfway between heaven and earth. The visibly teeming falling liquid simply dissolves, disperses, digested by the sky that created it, before the land can ever taste a single drop.

To see such a thing, oceans of rain drawn by reliable gravity from accumulated saturated summer clouds, that along the way loses its essence, its will, evaporated before it ever touches parched ground in mid-afternoon. Such a thing commands attention, respect, wonder. It demands to be named. So the old ones came to call it virga: that gushing of rain which, as it falls, foot by foot drunk deep and long by thirsty air spirits. No amount of it is sufficient to complete its journey. Nothing survives to baptize the cracked open earth of summer.

Those of us who live here sooner or later wonder about such things, how the elements conspire to grant life or death, drought or rain, yes or no, from this self-same sky.

We scan this sky with eyes tuned by time, and wisdom passed from generations. We read mercurial currents of earth and water, air and fire, day after day, each moment different, which will bless us with cascading torrents of life-giving, life-taking rain? Which will unceremoniously dissolve into failed possibility. At times I cannot help but know that here, there is God. The next day, I wonder how anyone can truly love. Or claim to.

We are taken by what we cannot know. So it is with these afternoons. Although we know they will come, still, we are surprised, every single time. The light, the sound, how loud, how close, how such power arises suddenly from the most pastoral beginning, the bucolic summer morning. We smell the earth and ozone, moisture liberates hidden fragrances of life from below ground, seeds and compost of things once living, now become a rare and piquant aroma of impermanence and resurrection. Even after a thousand times, we are still amazed.

How close was that? We count seconds. “One, one thousand; two, one thousand.” Sometimes, the sound explodes the heart before we the end of one, one thous…” We crackle with a sympathetic electrical charge, an inner voltage, deep, naturally familiar.

In that instant, we know we are made of that same stuff.

But what do we really know? Science tells us the temperature inside a single bolt of lightning can reach 50,000 degrees Fahrenheit. Five times the temperature of the surface of the sun. A single lightning bolt can contain one billion watts of electricity.
Thunder clouds reach impossible heights, penetrating the troposphere. Rise up 12 miles or more above the earth.

Still.

In spite of what science knows about how this all happens, what we feel is - magic. We cannot help but feel with ancient hearts, eyes of wonder, and awe, children that we are.

At the Lightning Research Center, at the University of Florida, where more lightning strikes are recorded than anywhere in US, when asked for their conclusion as to why elements combine as they do to create this meteorological marvel, they respond: “No single theory fully describe why it happens.”

Ah.

Magic.

Often it is the most ordinary, miraculous events of our daily lives defy our most sophisticated measurements, our most eloquent explanations, our educated knowings.

Why love? Why illness, why healing? Why grace, birth and death, beauty, color, music, kindness – all moments of mysterious ripenings of life, and time. Why does one portal open, and another simply close? What in us gives birth to the unimaginably astonishing? How do we refuse, hinder, obstruct the emergent miraculous, the ache of the sacred in human events?

No single theory can fully explain it.

So we awake each day, and we watch. We live, we work, we do what we can, we have mercy. Sometimes, at the end of the day, the virga will claim everything, before it can reach us.

So when the air drinks the rain, and the world is full of thunder, and no one knows why, we take refuge in the humble beauty of our own magnificent unknowings.

No one can deny this, our life of most ordinary magic. Everyone can see it. It is real. It is true.

It happens every day. Why? We do not know. Like virga, the answers we so desperately seek never quite find their way to where we are.

So. We find sanctuary simply in what it is. In summer, in the high and ancient desert mountains, we find solace in moments of magic. Moments of sweet unknowing.


This article originally appeared in Institute of the SOUTHWEST, an educational organization dedicated to collaborative leadership and transformative change in organizations, families and individuals. The article is reprinted here with permission.   

Be The Change: Take a moment to reflect on your own relationship with the unknown and the hidden gifts of not-knowing.



Sourced From www.dailygood.org

Tuesday, 19 January 2016

Life After Delivery

Something interesting regarding those who believe and those who don't believe in God ! Very interesting. It stimulates our lateral thinking : This lovely parable is from "Your Sacred Self" by Dr. Wayne Dyer.

In a mother’s womb were two babies. One asked the other: “Do you believe in life after delivery?”The other replied, “Why, of course. There has to be something after delivery. Maybe we are here to prepare ourselves for what we will be later.”

“Nonsense” said the first. “There is no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second said, “I don’t know, but there will be more light than here. Maybe we will walk with our legs and eat from our mouths. Maybe we will have other senses that we can’t understand now.”

The first replied, “That is absurd. Walking is impossible. And eating with our mouths? Ridiculous! The umbilical cord supplies nutrition and everything we need. But the umbilical cord is so short. Life after delivery is to be logically excluded.”

The second insisted, “Well I think there is something and maybe it’s different than it is here. Maybe we won’t need this physical cord anymore.”

The first replied, “Nonsense. And moreover if there is life, then why has no one ever come back from there? Delivery is the end of life, and in the after-delivery there is nothing but darkness and silence and oblivion. It takes us nowhere.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said the second, “but certainly we will meet Mother and she will take care of us.”

The first replied “Mother? You actually believe in Mother? That’s laughable. If Mother exists then where is She now?”

The second said, “She is all around us. We are surrounded by her. We are of Her. It is in Her that we live. Without Her this world would not and could not exist.”

Said the first: “Well I don’t see Her, so it is only logical that She doesn’t exist.”

To which the second replied, “Sometimes, when you’re in silence and you focus and listen, you can perceive Her presence, and you can hear Her loving voice, calling down from above.”

May be this was one of the best explanations to the concept of 'GOD'.

Monday, 18 January 2016

Defying Dementia Through Friendship

I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light. --Helen Keller

How Strong Friendships Defy Dementia

--by Marcus Harrison Green, syndicated from Yes Magazine, Jan 17, 2016

Alice Padilla’s laugh cut through the air at Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo. Fresh off an hour-long exhibit tour, she and 16 other friends sat in the zoo cafeteria, snacking on sugar cookies and mocking current bestsellers. The group could appear to be just another cluster of friends visiting the zoo. But they were there for another purpose, too: to provide joy as much as support. Part of a program called Momentia, more than half of the people in the group have dementia.
The day was, in effect, an act of defiance for the 63-year-old Padilla, who was diagnosed with dementia two years ago. By living wholly in the present, Padilla is fighting a disease that threatens to rob her of her memory.
The zoo trip was just one of a series of Seattle-area group activities, from strum and drum bands and rap performances to cafe talks and public policy advocacy, organized for Momentia members. Marigrace Becker, the program manager for the University of Washington Medicine Memory and Brain Wellness Center, co-founded Momentia three years ago to challenge the misconceptions typically associated with dementia.
According to the Alzheimer’s Association, by 2050, the number of people age 65 and older with Alzheimer’s disease may nearly triple, from 5.1 million today to a projected 13.8 million. The estimate makes Momentia an imperative for Becker. She spent years volunteering with dementia support groups and, after brainstorming words that rhymed with the condition, came up with “Momentia” to capture the idea of celebrating life in the moment. Becker wanted more than a social service; she wanted empowerment.
“I was envisioning it more like the Occupy movement, [which] galvanizes people and energizes them to have a voice, to build dementia-friendly communities in their own ways,” she said.
While there is no cure for dementia or Alzheimer’s, studies suggest strong social ties can help ward off the diseases’ advance.
That was the goal of another event on a balmy Sunday in September, when more than 100 people with dementia and their families gathered in West Seattle for Camp Momentia. Becker said the annual event recognizes the “staying power” of those touched by the disease.
Padilla was among them. She joined in drumming and square dancing and then capped off the day with a group rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Her petite frame marched around the large circle of singing campers as they laughed at her impersonation of a Mardi Gras drum major.
"I am not sad or angry,” she said later. “I don’t have any of that because those things are easy to be if you have Alzheimer’s. When you have these kind of people who watch out for each other, you can enjoy your life.”
And with that, her laugh rose through the air once more.

This article is shared here with permission from YES! Magazine, a national, nonprofit media organization that fuses powerful ideas with practical actions. The author, Liz Pleasant, wrote this article for YES! Magazine. Liz is an assistant web editor at YES!
Be The Change:
In the spirit of friendship, be present with someone who is walking in the dark today.
For inspiration here's a beautiful short film about a woman who used music and a compassionate heart to break down the barriers of separation surrounding a patient with Alzheimers.
Sourced From www.dailygood.org

Friday, 15 January 2016

Why Are We Running Out of Time?

Why Are We Running Out of Time? - Jacob Needleman

Technology itself is not the cause of our problem of time. Its influence on our lives is a result, not a cause -- the result of an unseen accelerating process taking place in ourselves, in our inner being. Whether we point to the effect of communication technology (such as e-mail) with its tyranny of instant communication; or to the computerization, and therefore the mentalization of so many human activities that previously required at least some participation of our physical presence; or to any of the innumerable transformations of human life that are being brought about by new technology, the essential element to recognize is how much of what we call "progress" is accompanied by and measured by the fact that human beings need less and less conscious attention to perform their activities and lead their lives.

The real power of faculty of attention, unknown to modern science, is one of the indispensable and most central measures of humanness -- of the being of a man or a woman -- and has been so understood, in many forms and symbols, at the heart of all the great spiritual teachings of the world.

The effects of advancing technology, for all the material promise they offer the world (along with the dangers, of course) is but the most recent wave in a civilization that, without recognizing what it was doing, has placed the satisfaction of desire above the cultivation of being. The deep meaning of many rules of conduct and moral principles of the past -- so many of which have been abandoned without our understanding their real roots in human nature -- involved the cultivation and development of the uniquely human power of attention, its action in the body, heart and mind of man. To be present, truly present, is to have conscious attention. This capacity is the key to what it means to be human.

It is not, therefore, the rapidity of change as such that is the source of our problem of time. It is the metaphysical fact that the being of man is diminishing. In the world as in oneself, time is vanishing because we have lost the practice of consciously inhabiting our life, the practice of conscious attention to ourselves as we go about our lives.

About the Author: by Jacob Needlman, excerpted from "Time and the Soul."

Thursday, 14 January 2016

I Have Decided To Stick With Love

I Have Decided To Stick With Love - Martin Luther King Jr.

I’m concerned about a better World. I’m concerned about justice; I’m concerned about brotherhood and sisterhood; I’m concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can’t murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate through violence. Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that.

And I say to you, I have also decided to stick with love, for I know that love is ultimately the only answer to humankind’s problems. And I’m going to talk about it everywhere I go. I know it isn’t popular to talk about it in some circles today. And I’m not talking about emotional bosh when I talk about love; I’m talking about a strong, demanding love. For I have seen too much hate. [...] and I say to myself that hate is too great a burden to bear. I have decided to love. If you are seeking the highest good, I think you can find it through love. And the beautiful thing is that we aren’t moving wrong when we do it, because John was right, God is love. He who hates does not know God, but he who loves has the key that unlocks the door to the meaning of ultimate reality.

And so I say to you today, my friends, that you may be able to speak with the tongues of men and angels; you may have the eloquence of articulate speech; but if you have not love, it means nothing. Yes, you may have the gift of prophecy; you may have the gift of scientific prediction and understand the behavior of molecules; you may break into the storehouse of nature and bring forth many new insights; yes, you may ascend to the heights of academic achievement so that you have all knowledge; and you may boast of your great institutions of learning and the boundless extent of your degrees; but if you have not love, all of these mean absolutely nothing. You may even give your goods to feed the poor; you may bestow great gifts to charity; and you may tower high in philanthropy; but if you have not love, your charity means nothing. You may even give your body to be burned and die the death of a martyr, and your spilt blood may be a symbol of honor for generations yet unborn, and thousands may praise you as one of history’s greatest heroes; but if you have not love, your blood was spilt in vain. What I’m trying to get you to see this morning is that a man may be self-centered in his self-denial and self-righteous in his self-sacrifice. His generosity may feed his ego, and his piety may feed his pride. So without love, benevolence becomes egotism, and martyrdom becomes spiritual pride.

About the Author: Excerpted from Martin Luther King Jr's speech, "Where do we go from here?"

Saturday, 9 January 2016

A Spectacular Gift

A Spectacular Gift

The 10-billion-year-old cosmic blast from the past is a great New Year gift, says JUG SURAIYA

As a pre-New Year’s Day gift on December 11, 2015, Planet Earth was privileged to be given a grandstand view of one of the most spectacular acts in the cosmic circus: a supernova, the final flashpoint of a star that explodes into extinction. The exploding star,nicknamed Refidal, was located in a galaxy cluster designated as MACS J1149.5+2223.The Hubble Space Telescope picked up multiple images of the supernova which, scientists have estimated, took place 10 billion years ago. We were looking at an event which took place long before our tiny planet, tucked away in one insignificant galaxy, among billions of galaxies, came into existence. The images caught by the telescope, among other things,verified the time-space curvature propounded by Albert Einstein a hundred years ago. Witnessing the death of a star also gives science an insight into how the universe came into being and underlines the validity of the Big Bang theory of cosmic creation.

Astronomers and physicists will for years, even decades, sift through the data provided to them by the images of the exploding star and pursue clues which will open new avenues of research into the mysteries of the universe, when it was born and when it will cease to be as it stops expanding and collapses back into the nothingness from which it emerged. And from which it might, theoretically, once again be reborn in a hypothetically endless cycle of destruction and creation. Such speculation enters the realm where science and philosophy, the outer world of matter and the inner world of the spirit, merge and become one, indistinguishable each from the other.

Viewing a cataclysmic event that took place in a past so distant as to be beyond our grasp to imagine puts into perspective how small and relatively insignificant are the calamities and disasters, natural or manmade, which we seem fated to endure. Human concepts, such as national boundaries and the fierceness with which we are programmed to protect them even at the expense of war and the possibility of a nuclear Armageddon that could annihilate all life on the planet, become meaningless irrelevances, mirages born out of a blinkered vision that makes us assume that we have a far greater importance in the cosmic scheme of things than we actually do. A flashback could take us to July 16, 1945, when a great fireball followed by a mushroom cloud grew like a monstrous blossom over the New Mexican desert: the explosion of the world’s first atomic bomb in a test codenamed Trinity.

As he watched the explosion from the protection of the observation bunker, the leader of the team of scientists who had developed the bomb, the American physicist Julius Robert Oppenheimer, was moved to quote Krishna’s words to Arjuna from the Bhagwad Gita: “I am become Death, destroyer of worlds”. When Arjuna stood irresolute at Kurukshetra,Krishna revealed himself in his true form as the cosmic force that governs the universe in a cycle of destruction and regeneration. Arjuna quails before this terrifying vision,but then his terror gives way to awe, and finally, to a calm equanimity which enables him to go into an allegorical battle with neither fear of defeat nor desire for victory. An exploding star, like the atomic blast, can be an object lesson, a reminder of our place in the universe. We are nothing but a microscopic molecule of a single drop in the ocean of the cosmos. But, being so, we are also the ocean, finite creatures bound to infinity.

Thursday, 7 January 2016

How To Move Beyond Pain

We think we'll feel better after pointing a finger at someone or something, but nothing changes. --Brene Brown

How To Move Beyond Pain

--by Jill Suttie, Dec 26, 2015
I still remember the shame of getting back my very first draft for a Greater Good article from the editor and seeing it filled with red ink. Immediately, my mind went to the worst-case scenarios: My editor thinks I’m stupid; I’ll never be a writer; I’m not good enough. I was almost ready to quit on the spot.
Fortunately for me, I swallowed my pride, talked to my editor about my fears, and got a compassionate response in return—as well as some helpful criticism. Still, the internal concern of not being good enough haunts me, sometimes making me fearful of being found out or causing me to lash out at those who try to help. It’s a lifelong struggle.
According to BrenĂ© Brown, a researcher at the University of Houston’s Graduate College of Social Work, this is a common, human response to the pain and fear of shame. Too often, we learn shame-based messages in childhood and they follow us around, coloring the way we see the world. Our desire to push shame away can make us want to run and hide or blame others for our bad feelings—a kind of fight or flight response to the “danger” we feel from difficult emotions. Her new book, Rising Strong, is meant to provide a pathway away from shame and toward more compassionate, wise ways to respond to our pain.
Brown’s two previous books—The Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Greatly—seemed to hit a cultural nerve, as did her incredibly popular TED talk on shame and vulnerability. In her books and public appearances, she’s encouraged people to be their true, imperfect selves and not be afraid to take risks. Her newest book adds to the discussion, focusing more on how we can use attention and curiosity to help us understand when we are acting from a place of shame and on how to pick up the pieces when we have emotional setbacks.
Brown calls herself a researcher/storyteller, in part to emphasize the neuroscience that shows all humans are storytellers—because our brains are constantly working to put together narratives that explain our experiences. Her research, involving countless hours conducting interviews with people sharing stories about shame, has helped her develop her own compelling narrative of how people deal emotionally, cognitively, and behaviorally with shame and other difficult emotions. Though the book may lack in research details—which, personally, I would have liked to see—it makes up for in inspired storytelling.
Brown’s says there are three basic steps to handling emotional setbacks:
Reckoning: recognizing when you are having an emotional reaction and getting curious about it so that you can explore it more fully.
Rumbling: paying closer attention to the stories you tell yourself to explain your difficult emotions—stories like, someone else is to blame for how I feel, or I’m unworthy, etc.—and learning to separate truth from fiction so you can own your stories and speak truth to others.
Revolution: taking what you’ve learned about yourself to change how you engage with others, so you can hopefully help transform your work and life to have more connection, creativity, and safety to be your authentic self.
Brown spends most of the book providing examples of common emotionally-charged experiences—like feeling disconnected from one’s spouse or failing at a work project—and exploring the types of emotions and stories these experiences stimulate within us. By sharing honest accounts of her own struggles, as well as those of others she’s interviewed, she demonstrates how self-awareness and compassion for ourselves can help us respond to situations with honesty and insight rather than fear. The alternative, she argues, is to ignore what’s happening inside of us, denying ourselves an important part of the human experience.
“We own our stories so we don’t spend our lives being defined by them or denying them,” she writes. “And while the journey is long and difficult at times, it is the path to living a more whole-hearted life.”
Of course, most of us aren’t consciously dishonest with ourselves—these defensive reactions largely happen below our awareness. According to Brown, we disconnect from difficult emotions because we’ve been trained to discount them or because they are too painful to confront. But, the down side of ignoring our emotions and the stories they generate is not learning from them. And, that can make you stuck in maladaptive patterns of behavior, like lashing out at others, blaming them for your pain.
“Blame…is simply a quick, broad-brush way to off-load anger, fear, shame, or discomfort,” writes Brown. “We think we’ll feel better after pointing a finger at someone or something, but nothing changes.”
To pay attention and “rumble” with our stories, Brown suggests things like mindfulness meditation, for increasing awareness and nonjudgmental attitudes toward your thoughts and emotions, or free writing/journaling, to help you get in touch with your experience. By learning to be curious about our uncensored selves, she argues, we can stop from acting out in ways that are hurtful to others or just plain counterproductive. She writes:
The goal of the rumble is to get honest about the stories we’re making up about our struggles, to revisit, challenge, and reality-check these narratives as we dig into topics such as boundaries, shame, blame, resentment, heartbreak, generosity, and forgiveness. Rumbling with these topics and moving from our first responses to a deeper understanding of our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors gives birth to key learnings about who we are and how we engage with others.
This becomes even more important when we feel we are in a “one down” position—i.e. with bosses—because too often we end up paying difficult emotions forward by shaming someone else whom we have power over, such as a child or employee. It’s important to catch ourselves so we can avoid creating cycles of shame that keep getting passed along.
Still, that doesn’t mean stuffing down emotions by ignoring them or drowning them in alcohol or drugs. Instead, Brown suggests, we need to bravely face them in order to understand the way they work in our lives. Emotions are an important indicator of our internal reality, she writes, and we can’t discount the negative ones without also wiping out the positive ones.
“We are wired to be emotional beings,” she writes, “When that part of us is shut down, we’re not whole.”
But what do you do when someone really is hurting you? Brown suggests that knowing yourself is still the best defense, and that boundaries are helpful for preventing someone walking all over you. Still, we need to understand that most people are doing the best they can…even if what they’re doing seems harmful to themselves or others. Too often, our instincts are to lash out or run away, and we end up missing that important part of the equation.
“When we combine the courage to make clear what works for us and what doesn’t with the compassion to assume people are doing their best, our lives change,” writes Brown.
Of course, that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard. The heartbreak from loss of love and the resulting grief is particularly challenging, writes Brown, because it can feel deep and impenetrable. But, she chides against people wanting “easy and quick answers to complex struggles.” It takes courage to feel your pain, recognize what it is, reach out to others, and be vulnerable; but, if you practice doing this incrementally, it can really make a difference in how you engage with others in the long run.
“The process may be a series of incremental changes, but when the process becomes a practice—a way of engaging with the world—there’s no doubt that it ignites revolutionary change,” she writes.
In fact, if we all confessed our concerns about our perceived flaws and took the risk of being vulnerable with others, it would probably increase the sense of our shared humanity and lead to more connection, a sense of safety, the freedom to be creative, and more harmonious relationships in our homes, our workplaces, and our communities. That really would be a revolution.

This article is printed here with permission. It originally appeared on Greater Good, the online magazine of the Greater Good Science Center (GGSC). Based at UC Berkeley, the GGSC studies the psychology, sociology, and neuroscience of well-being, and teaches skills that foster a thriving, resilient, and compassionate society.

Be The Change: When faced with the experience of pain or shame, be sure to give yourself a chance to grasp a deeper understanding of your feelings and your initial reactions.

Sourced From www.dailygood.org