Perhaps it is fitting that I would take two weeks off before making my 100th blog posting. I will confess that these past two weeks have been an exciting and rewarding time for many reasons. Yet each day I have spent time looking within as I observe without. One story caught my attention the other day.
The BBC World Service ran a report on the Bonn Declaration of July 16, 2001. In that declaration the developed nations made a pledge, by 2005, to give developing nations $410M per year to help with climate change. However, according to the BBC report no trace as to how that money was spent was to be found as of 2009. Leaders and politicians 'claimed' they had spent this money. The UN Secretary General went so far as to suggest that trust had been damaged. And through it all no one seems to be able to agree on what exactly happened following this declaration.
One element that stood out for me was the speculation on the part of the reporter, with some fairly damning evidence, that the wording of the declaration had been so vague as to make it an un-enforceable agreement. Forget about the idea of any system of smart measurement, clear infrastructure on how to submit money to such a fund or to make payments. And obviously, any chance of accountability was, if history is any evidence, clearly left out.
I can't help but think that the answer to all such calamities lies in the human heart. As we come to exercise our power to reflect we must look about and see the magnificence of all that is, and stand meekly before it. We are not talking about "climate change" - we are really talking about the manner in which we respect mother earth and hold her precious in our hearts. And just maybe we will come to a place where the challenge is seeing where there are no miracles. With such a vision we will finally understand what it is to be responsible. We will view terms such as "climate change" as hollow, and our hearts will be drawn to know the truth of all that sustains our physical bodies.
I can only imagine that in the days leading up to July 16th 2001 that leaders and politicians sat in luxury hotel rooms in Bonn 'negotiating' climate change, wrestling with how to find a way forward that wouldn't leave them hamstrung by their opposition parties upon their return home. As it was once said, "a leader is a person who has an unusual degree of power to create the conditions under which other people must live and move and have their being - conditions that can either be as illuminating as heaven or as shadowy as hell."
In the end the only meaningful answer I can offer is to know that those that are called to lead do so from the heart: That they are called to project a spirit of light. But perhaps the bumper sticker, "Think globally, act locally" is more relevant to the rest of us. What are we doing individually? For my part, I no longer eat meat. Apparently, cows are the biggest contributors of methane (and greenhouse) gases on the planet. Both the cars we own are hybrids. We use LED lights where possible. I could go on, but even these words are meaningless if I do not carry a caring for the world, something bigger than me, in my heart.
In the end, the movement to think globally must be accompanied by actions locally that come from your heart. When was the last time you contemplated what the words "Climate Change" mean to you? How does your heart feel about this? What are you doing to contribute positively to the nurturing and caring of mother earth? Only when you have answered these questions will you be in a position to look to leaders and the weighty responsibilities they carry upon their shoulders, and offer them advice.
Lead From the Heart
The answer to any calamity,
lies within your heart.
Exercise power to reflect,
stand meekly, not apart.
See the magnificence,
let miracles flood your sight.
Understand what it is,
be responsible, and project light.
Look not to leaders,
or be transfixed by their spin.
Heed the whispers of what matters,
of your heart and what's within.
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
Friday, November 27, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
Remembrance Day
The preparations for Remembrance Day have, as usual, been accompanied by advertisements on the television. The theme at least from the Canadian perspective is to not just observe but to get involved. More interesting, for me at least, was my initial reaction. I will confess that I am torn and believe this is a topic worthy of a blog for a number of reasons. This may well be one of the most challenging entries I am ever likely to make, even if only because of the potential to offend feelings and beliefs of the reader when weighing in on something that is as impactful as war and remembrance.
I suspect that my being raised in Britain, a culture that takes remembrance very seriously, conflicting with my recent spiritual journey has something to do with my reaction. The idea of remembering war and death provides a juxtaposition to metaphysical teaching. If anything, the focus of Spiritual Living is that you are what you think. Thinking about war runs contrary to my everyday intent. However, this is far from being a final position on my part; I would propose this is a topic that is not so simply resolved.
I have a number of memories related to the legacy of war and Remembrance Day. My grandfather served in World War II as a naval officer. He died when my mother was 15 and thus I was never to meet him. My mother idolized the memory of her father and spoke with pride about his service. She also told me the story of his throwing away his medals.
As far back as I can remember British television always made a big point of emphasizing the message of Remembrance Day. From the Poppy campaign, to the shows with military parades and services, Britain always seemed to spend a significant effort on remembering the fallout of war. And yet for an island that had the misfortune to be a key player in two World Wars this is hardly surprising.
Having never fought in a war I can only speculate at what might be passing through the mind of a veteran as they participate, or witness, the laying of a wreath. Perhaps there is a sense that the sacrifice is more meaningful if Remembrance Day serves to remind others of the value of peace? Or maybe, by remembering the lost we have an opportunity to contemplate why war is such a stain on humanity, and in turn shine a light on an idea that has fraught civilization since humans first learned how to swing a fist or throw a rock?
More recently there has been a shift in focus for some. For a few years now there has been a campaign for the white poppy. Following legal action the latest carnation of this idea is a white dove. I think the white dove is an improvement for a number of reasons, but I still cannot help but feel that the focus is still on Remembrance Day, as if one day is sufficient for a focus on peace.
The Edmonton Journal carried an article on November 7th called, "Students urged to act on wartime human-rights abuses." Lt.-Gen Romeo Dallaire, the Canadian who got to command the peacekeeping forces while the Rwandan genocide raged about and who disobeyed an order from the UN Secretary General to withdraw his troops based on information of their impending demise, is on a tour speaking to students. Dallaire had some 30,000 Rwandans under his protection. His withdrawal would have left those people for death. This is a man who has lived through genocide and had the opportunity for contemplation of war thrust upon him in the most violent of ways.
Dallaire brings a simple message; morality and ethics should be central to all decisions made within the world. He urges people to do more than claim powerlessness and get actively engaged in organizations that are dedicated to this type of cause. He believes that everyone has a responsibility to speak up and say such violence is not acceptable.
And yet for me, these perspectives whilst noble and meaningful are not quite enough. Perhaps I have been inspired by Ghandi's philosophy of active non-violence, where the belief must be that the truth will always win. There's clearly injustice in the world and I am with Dallaire that just sitting back is not enough. Yet I also believe that a paradox of life is that the harder we push, the more resistance we will encounter. War and remembrance provide an opportunity to contemplate injustice and genocides. Yet how much of my life is focused on peace? Do I need Remembrance Day to remember what peace is and why my whole life should be centred in a place of truth? And how does remembrance for peace sit against the realities of injustice?
There can only be a personal answer to these questions. Your answers must come from a place of personal contemplation, a decision to live your life wholly with awareness. At the same time I am reminded of the omnipotence of the Divine (God, Spirit, or whatever your bigger-than-life force is). If God is Infinite and everywhere, then surely war is consciousness playing itself out? The teachings of the Science of Mind tell us that "the key to freedom is the power of choice. As God is the life within us we have access to all the attributes of God. On our pathway to self-discovery we are free to choose our direction and area of involvement." Freedom is tied up with Unity because "no freedom can exist which denies or destroys the liberty or freedom of another part of that whole."
This leads me to conclude that war is an expression born of separation. War provides an experience and raises attention to choice, and the consequences of choice in its most dreadful forms. If this is true then some important questions come to mind:
I suspect that my being raised in Britain, a culture that takes remembrance very seriously, conflicting with my recent spiritual journey has something to do with my reaction. The idea of remembering war and death provides a juxtaposition to metaphysical teaching. If anything, the focus of Spiritual Living is that you are what you think. Thinking about war runs contrary to my everyday intent. However, this is far from being a final position on my part; I would propose this is a topic that is not so simply resolved.
I have a number of memories related to the legacy of war and Remembrance Day. My grandfather served in World War II as a naval officer. He died when my mother was 15 and thus I was never to meet him. My mother idolized the memory of her father and spoke with pride about his service. She also told me the story of his throwing away his medals.
As far back as I can remember British television always made a big point of emphasizing the message of Remembrance Day. From the Poppy campaign, to the shows with military parades and services, Britain always seemed to spend a significant effort on remembering the fallout of war. And yet for an island that had the misfortune to be a key player in two World Wars this is hardly surprising.
Having never fought in a war I can only speculate at what might be passing through the mind of a veteran as they participate, or witness, the laying of a wreath. Perhaps there is a sense that the sacrifice is more meaningful if Remembrance Day serves to remind others of the value of peace? Or maybe, by remembering the lost we have an opportunity to contemplate why war is such a stain on humanity, and in turn shine a light on an idea that has fraught civilization since humans first learned how to swing a fist or throw a rock?
More recently there has been a shift in focus for some. For a few years now there has been a campaign for the white poppy. Following legal action the latest carnation of this idea is a white dove. I think the white dove is an improvement for a number of reasons, but I still cannot help but feel that the focus is still on Remembrance Day, as if one day is sufficient for a focus on peace.
The Edmonton Journal carried an article on November 7th called, "Students urged to act on wartime human-rights abuses." Lt.-Gen Romeo Dallaire, the Canadian who got to command the peacekeeping forces while the Rwandan genocide raged about and who disobeyed an order from the UN Secretary General to withdraw his troops based on information of their impending demise, is on a tour speaking to students. Dallaire had some 30,000 Rwandans under his protection. His withdrawal would have left those people for death. This is a man who has lived through genocide and had the opportunity for contemplation of war thrust upon him in the most violent of ways.
Dallaire brings a simple message; morality and ethics should be central to all decisions made within the world. He urges people to do more than claim powerlessness and get actively engaged in organizations that are dedicated to this type of cause. He believes that everyone has a responsibility to speak up and say such violence is not acceptable.
And yet for me, these perspectives whilst noble and meaningful are not quite enough. Perhaps I have been inspired by Ghandi's philosophy of active non-violence, where the belief must be that the truth will always win. There's clearly injustice in the world and I am with Dallaire that just sitting back is not enough. Yet I also believe that a paradox of life is that the harder we push, the more resistance we will encounter. War and remembrance provide an opportunity to contemplate injustice and genocides. Yet how much of my life is focused on peace? Do I need Remembrance Day to remember what peace is and why my whole life should be centred in a place of truth? And how does remembrance for peace sit against the realities of injustice?
There can only be a personal answer to these questions. Your answers must come from a place of personal contemplation, a decision to live your life wholly with awareness. At the same time I am reminded of the omnipotence of the Divine (God, Spirit, or whatever your bigger-than-life force is). If God is Infinite and everywhere, then surely war is consciousness playing itself out? The teachings of the Science of Mind tell us that "the key to freedom is the power of choice. As God is the life within us we have access to all the attributes of God. On our pathway to self-discovery we are free to choose our direction and area of involvement." Freedom is tied up with Unity because "no freedom can exist which denies or destroys the liberty or freedom of another part of that whole."
This leads me to conclude that war is an expression born of separation. War provides an experience and raises attention to choice, and the consequences of choice in its most dreadful forms. If this is true then some important questions come to mind:
- Why and what am I remembering on Remembrance Day?
- How is peace expressing itself in my life?
- Is my every thought, word, and deed in line with the change I want to see in the world?
In writing this blog I knew I was taking a risk; this is not an easy topic to dissect for so many reasons. Yet I hope that the questions I've posed are worth putting front and center of any discussion around war and peace? I get to make my biggest impact by just being myself. Surely as I move through the world, and witness events such as Remembrance Day that understanding what war means to me and my life is the most meaningful activism I could get involved in.
Remembrance Day
Memories of a legacy,
war and Remembrance Day.
Impact both near and far.
Recalling peace as we pray.
I can only speculate,
at what passes through the mind,
of a veteran witnessing the laying,
of a wreath to be enshrined.
Yet for all the white coloured poppies,
or doves set to lapel,
is a single day of focus,
enough to light a searing hell?
Morality and ethics should be,
in all decisions to be made.
It takes more than claiming powerlessness,
to turn an unjust blade.
Philosophy of non-violence,
must stand squarely upon belief,
that Truth will always win,
regardless of short-term grief.
Remembrance provides opportunity,
to contemplate injustice and genocide.
How much of my life is peace?
The only answer found inside.
No freedom can exist,
that destroys of denies,
the liberty or freedom,
of any other beneath these skies.
War must be expression,
raising attention to killing done,
born of separation,
calculated firing of a gun.
What is it I'm remembering
on this Remembrance Day?
How is the world I want,
lived in what I do and what I say?
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Self-Honesty
Looking at oneself is a journey that calls for self-honesty. Can we truly be honest with ourselves, and our feelings? Is our internal communication honest? I look to my own journey and realize that I've opted for dishonesty with myself from time to time, sometimes consciously, and often unconsciously.
I recall that around 8 years of age I was caught up in the loneliness of the violence and lack that surrounded me. I suspect I strove to gain attention and escape by doing things I knew I shouldn't. I started to explore the idea of stealing things like candy bars from shops.
Was I moved by a desire to get attention or to create a situation that would see me removed from the environment I lived in? I can only speculate at my motivations at the time. The important element is that I am enquiring at all, rather than perfection in enquiry.
I do recall pausing, as I contemplated stealing, and I suspect that I was unconsciously struggling with the lack of truth in the situation. Without being able to articulate why the 8 year old knew it was wrong. Not long into my shop-lifting career I remember being caught while trying to steal a mars bar. Obviously the 8 year old in me was not very good at stealing. The person who caught me let me go, after warning me to not do it again. The gift of that moment included the guidance of someone explaining right from wrong without the extreme consequences. The universe responded in a way that didn’t include more than verbal tongue-lashing. Apparently I was salvageable and didn’t need the lesson of a sterner punishment.
To my mind comes the thought that the obstacles we encounter are actually within ourselves. As I recall that event I recognize that my internal struggle caused me to pause. The child standing in front of the candy shelf for a few minutes was the giveaway. How often does someone else spot our struggle and help us? As an 8 year old I was less adept at obfuscating the internal conversation. Perhaps as adults we've become too good at masking what's going on within? Perhaps we’ve practiced self-dishonesty so much that we’re really, really good at it, to the point of not even thinking about it most of the time?
The good news is that when events, and our evolution, cause us to get in touch with our feelings we will find it easier to get in touch with ourselves. Was a fear of lack the key driving force that day? Or was it something more? Has it taken 30 years to for me to enquire about this event and begin a process of self-honesty? How well am I getting in touch with the feelings and emotions of that time? And most importantly, what am I doing about these realizations and exploration right now?
There is more good news though - what we've repressed deep down is usually trying to make its way back to the surface. This means that we will have plenty of opportunities to become honest with ourselves, regardless of our proficiency in the art of self-dishonesty. Even 30 years later I'm living this particular opportunity to consider such events and understand what was going on for me. I'm taking the time to write about it and allow strangers to see within me. I’m seeking to balance the learning from benefit of sharing openly whilst not becoming lost to my inner perceptions around such stories.
If there will always be opportunities for self-honesty then I would suggest that we should make a practice of it. Journaling is one vehicle for exploring what's going on within. Whether coherent or not we can benefit from exploring our experiences, feelings and emotions in writing. We need never share these contemplations (as I do in a public blog) but the internal dialog will do wonders for us. In turn practice develops awareness. Awareness supports our looking more carefully at the choices and decisions behind our actions. And as we become more aware of who we are, in communicating with ourselves honestly about how we feel, we will find it easier to communicate with others. A virtuous circle will then grow that encourages us to take risks to further discover who we are in the face of our unknown.
I find it interesting that after a blog (or journal) entry last week about lack and fear of abundance that I should now be exploring self-honesty. In turn it’s interesting that I’m drawn to the moments of stealing I had earlier in my life. In some ways it is mind boggling to consider the fear of lack that I must have been exposed to as a child, and how that influenced me through my younger years to act on this fear of lack by taking that which was not mine. And yet without my practice of honestly journeying through my thoughts and feelings through journaling I may never have made this connection. I can now know love and financial freedom and serenity for the young man that I was, and hold the same knowing for me in this moment here and now.
Perhaps what I am trying to say is that self-honesty is a course of certainty to that destination known as, Know Thyself. Knowing yourself may well be one of the most beautiful gifts you will ever receive.
Self-Honesty
The mystery of all,
we may never come to see.
No one else with your qualities,
or gifts will ever be.
If you choose to withhold,
gifts of who you are,
I will be deprived of sharing,
you will forever be far.
Yet for all that we hear,
touch, taste, and see,
a part of self-awareness,
is to consciously be.
We will organize perceptions,
into mental ideas.
We should better perceive,
such formulated fears.
From perception results emotion,
thought leading the heart.
Symptomatic feelings;
where do perceptions start?
Is all for a reason,
motives hidden beyond?
Can we find beyond such reason,
essential tone of our song?
Do we fathom our journey,
from sense to decision?
Are we influenced by programs,
or experienced division?
Yet beyond all is choice,
inner decisions in action.
Am I honestly seeking,
or in illusionary contraction?
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
I recall that around 8 years of age I was caught up in the loneliness of the violence and lack that surrounded me. I suspect I strove to gain attention and escape by doing things I knew I shouldn't. I started to explore the idea of stealing things like candy bars from shops.
Was I moved by a desire to get attention or to create a situation that would see me removed from the environment I lived in? I can only speculate at my motivations at the time. The important element is that I am enquiring at all, rather than perfection in enquiry.
I do recall pausing, as I contemplated stealing, and I suspect that I was unconsciously struggling with the lack of truth in the situation. Without being able to articulate why the 8 year old knew it was wrong. Not long into my shop-lifting career I remember being caught while trying to steal a mars bar. Obviously the 8 year old in me was not very good at stealing. The person who caught me let me go, after warning me to not do it again. The gift of that moment included the guidance of someone explaining right from wrong without the extreme consequences. The universe responded in a way that didn’t include more than verbal tongue-lashing. Apparently I was salvageable and didn’t need the lesson of a sterner punishment.
To my mind comes the thought that the obstacles we encounter are actually within ourselves. As I recall that event I recognize that my internal struggle caused me to pause. The child standing in front of the candy shelf for a few minutes was the giveaway. How often does someone else spot our struggle and help us? As an 8 year old I was less adept at obfuscating the internal conversation. Perhaps as adults we've become too good at masking what's going on within? Perhaps we’ve practiced self-dishonesty so much that we’re really, really good at it, to the point of not even thinking about it most of the time?
The good news is that when events, and our evolution, cause us to get in touch with our feelings we will find it easier to get in touch with ourselves. Was a fear of lack the key driving force that day? Or was it something more? Has it taken 30 years to for me to enquire about this event and begin a process of self-honesty? How well am I getting in touch with the feelings and emotions of that time? And most importantly, what am I doing about these realizations and exploration right now?
There is more good news though - what we've repressed deep down is usually trying to make its way back to the surface. This means that we will have plenty of opportunities to become honest with ourselves, regardless of our proficiency in the art of self-dishonesty. Even 30 years later I'm living this particular opportunity to consider such events and understand what was going on for me. I'm taking the time to write about it and allow strangers to see within me. I’m seeking to balance the learning from benefit of sharing openly whilst not becoming lost to my inner perceptions around such stories.
If there will always be opportunities for self-honesty then I would suggest that we should make a practice of it. Journaling is one vehicle for exploring what's going on within. Whether coherent or not we can benefit from exploring our experiences, feelings and emotions in writing. We need never share these contemplations (as I do in a public blog) but the internal dialog will do wonders for us. In turn practice develops awareness. Awareness supports our looking more carefully at the choices and decisions behind our actions. And as we become more aware of who we are, in communicating with ourselves honestly about how we feel, we will find it easier to communicate with others. A virtuous circle will then grow that encourages us to take risks to further discover who we are in the face of our unknown.
I find it interesting that after a blog (or journal) entry last week about lack and fear of abundance that I should now be exploring self-honesty. In turn it’s interesting that I’m drawn to the moments of stealing I had earlier in my life. In some ways it is mind boggling to consider the fear of lack that I must have been exposed to as a child, and how that influenced me through my younger years to act on this fear of lack by taking that which was not mine. And yet without my practice of honestly journeying through my thoughts and feelings through journaling I may never have made this connection. I can now know love and financial freedom and serenity for the young man that I was, and hold the same knowing for me in this moment here and now.
Perhaps what I am trying to say is that self-honesty is a course of certainty to that destination known as, Know Thyself. Knowing yourself may well be one of the most beautiful gifts you will ever receive.
Self-Honesty
The mystery of all,
we may never come to see.
No one else with your qualities,
or gifts will ever be.
If you choose to withhold,
gifts of who you are,
I will be deprived of sharing,
you will forever be far.
Yet for all that we hear,
touch, taste, and see,
a part of self-awareness,
is to consciously be.
We will organize perceptions,
into mental ideas.
We should better perceive,
such formulated fears.
From perception results emotion,
thought leading the heart.
Symptomatic feelings;
where do perceptions start?
Is all for a reason,
motives hidden beyond?
Can we find beyond such reason,
essential tone of our song?
Do we fathom our journey,
from sense to decision?
Are we influenced by programs,
or experienced division?
Yet beyond all is choice,
inner decisions in action.
Am I honestly seeking,
or in illusionary contraction?
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
Monday, November 2, 2009
Change
Change
Change, like our story,
helps us to move into awareness.
Change is the air beneath the wings
that carries us to fly upward,
to experience the highest mountains
and downward
to be enriched by the deepest valleys.
The journeys we undertake through change
deepen and expand us;
the experiences we encounter
lead us to become more than we were before.
And in time, if we are mindful,
we will come to know, through the gift of change,
that all things dissipate.
My life, particularly in my younger years, has involved lots of change. My earliest memory of my birth father was walking in on him as he was shooting heroin. Based on simple mathematics of the divorce I must have been no older than 4. Around five I remember being placed in a children’s home for a number of months. I later worked out that my mother had been sent to prison for assaulting a police officer. I then remember a series of father figures.
The theme of my earliest childhood years was instability and change, punctuated by violence either around me or directly involving me. The people I grew up with and the place in which I lived should have felt safest, yet was a raging river of change.
I remember the change of being taken to my first day of primary school by my social worker. I still cannot remember if it was because she was unable to take me to my first day of school (in prison) or unable to take me to school (incapacitated in some way). Regardless, a mother going to prison automatically brought a child to the attention of social services (and likely still does). As a single child, to a single mother, to a series of changing and broken ‘fathers’ I believe that I rarely felt as if anything was stable. In turn, how I engaged with schools, friends, and interests led to a perspective of independence and uncertainty.
In my late teens and early twenties, before I found my heart and myself, the manner in which I interpreted change shifted. Somehow I managed to avoid losing myself to the opinion that ‘life sucks’. That said the drugs and alcohol that I consumed, and the manner in which I destroyed any friendship with insecurity fluctuated depending on how deeply I believed that ‘my life sucked’.
For all that (hi)story I do recall at various points a voice within telling me that everyone, including me, is special. So marked was this voice that it in some ways brought further chaos. I was so caught up in the symptoms of change I was unable to recognize the good for the bad in many ways.
In the briefest glimpses of lucidity there would be a peaceful assurance. I recall one such moment as a fourteen year old. At the time I was living in a children’s home, called Caldecott Community. The dormitories had just been equipped with new furniture. I was, ironically enough, the child that was constantly moved from assigned space to assigned space. At the time I was told it was because I was the most flexible. In hindsight it might have had something to do with having a sharp mind, an inflammatory attitude, and a loud mouth (the clever kid with a broken attitude can be very, very annoying to other children - that was me). The memory in question involved me looking at myself in the new mirror hung on the back of a new wooden wardrobe door and studying my eyes. I sensed a peace within me that almost seemed to conflict with the rage that would so often wage a war within me. For the briefest of moments I recall that I knew that there is something within life, and within me, that was great. But so loud was the rage in those days that rarely did I pause as I did that day.
Yet for all those memories I find it interesting that in this time I find myself committed as I am to evolving myself. I see change as an opportunity to expand, to grow. By having been so lost to the dazzling changes about me, so influenced by instability I faced throughout my childhood, I’ve witnessed myself become something profoundly more than I was before. I’ve seen the creative process in action, and the depth afforded by my expansion through change is like a river that has cut a canyon through my life; the defining question being, how have I filled that canyon - with a raging current, or a steady and certain flow of life?
And yet what would have I been without these changes? I look now at all the change I’ve experienced from a very different perspective than I did even 5 years ago. My attitudes, beliefs and values have changed. The person I am is the sum of these changes, and yet I am so much more than the sum of my parts.
I did not learn how to procrastinate, or to wait until I am ready, because I never had an opportunity to avoid change. In my childhood change was always thrust upon me I learned how to think on my feet like any latchkey kid. As a young adult, this insecurity drove me to always strive for more than the lack I was experiencing. And as an older adult I did not settle with a partner until I found someone who truly believed in the me I sensed myself to be.
As I look at my life to date I give thanks. All the violence, instability, and choices made for me created an opening. And in that opening eroded by change I could give birth to the consciousness that I am now. I have come to a place where I have begun living the mystery of life. I have just begun to see change for what it is and I accept it. I have moved to holding change in gratitude. For in this contemplation, this experience, I have come to see change as a natural part of my life. I can celebrate the memories both before and after the change, and in such acceptance I open myself most to the knowledge and wisdom change offers.
My experiences have brought to me first-hand knowledge that there will be change in the form of people coming and going, of things gained and lost. There will be experiences of less and more than expected. And if we can see change for what it is we will see it as transcendent and sublime. The deeper the cut of change the more opportunities we are afforded to expand, to become something more than we were before. In time, and if we can come to gracefully surrender and to accept, we will find a strength that results from change. When the soul is bared and the ego tested to the point of extinction we will learn a new way to see the world, and the change that both surrounds us and inhabits us.
From a place of strength change shifts from being a survival experience of blaming others, to an experience that reminds us of asking, what do I need to know to grow? Change shifts from our seeing closing doors, to asking ourselves, are we willing to go through whatever door change may open? And the greater the change we will come to learn that in time all things dissipate. The only constants come from within, and the more we align our thinking with surrender and acceptance the greater the serenity we will experience.
The most profound changes teach us to apply life’s teachings and transform our lives. I never truly excelled at school and yet here I am expressing myself through writing in this manner, and articulating a truth in my own unique way. My greatest gift has been the transformation I’ve experienced through the change I’ve witnessed. The greatest gift I could offer myself now is to evolve from acceptance of change to jumping into change. And from a place of graceful surrender to immerse myself in change, knowing that no matter what ‘thing’ might happen that the truth of who I am is infinity in action.
The experiences I have faced, that on one hand might tempt me to pride at how far I’ve come, cause others to nod in appreciative understanding, or shudder in consideration, have served to offer me a ‘before’ to compare to this now. The net result of these experiences is that I can truly celebrate change for the reminder that in remembering the truth of who I am, and what I have already endured. The greatest thanks I could bestow upon this gift of existence is to celebrate change as a reminder that I’ve come as far as I have. Given that I’ve only just begun it’s exciting to know that change has given me the opportunity to see how far I’ve already come.
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
Change, like our story,
helps us to move into awareness.
Change is the air beneath the wings
that carries us to fly upward,
to experience the highest mountains
and downward
to be enriched by the deepest valleys.
The journeys we undertake through change
deepen and expand us;
the experiences we encounter
lead us to become more than we were before.
And in time, if we are mindful,
we will come to know, through the gift of change,
that all things dissipate.
My life, particularly in my younger years, has involved lots of change. My earliest memory of my birth father was walking in on him as he was shooting heroin. Based on simple mathematics of the divorce I must have been no older than 4. Around five I remember being placed in a children’s home for a number of months. I later worked out that my mother had been sent to prison for assaulting a police officer. I then remember a series of father figures.
The theme of my earliest childhood years was instability and change, punctuated by violence either around me or directly involving me. The people I grew up with and the place in which I lived should have felt safest, yet was a raging river of change.
I remember the change of being taken to my first day of primary school by my social worker. I still cannot remember if it was because she was unable to take me to my first day of school (in prison) or unable to take me to school (incapacitated in some way). Regardless, a mother going to prison automatically brought a child to the attention of social services (and likely still does). As a single child, to a single mother, to a series of changing and broken ‘fathers’ I believe that I rarely felt as if anything was stable. In turn, how I engaged with schools, friends, and interests led to a perspective of independence and uncertainty.
In my late teens and early twenties, before I found my heart and myself, the manner in which I interpreted change shifted. Somehow I managed to avoid losing myself to the opinion that ‘life sucks’. That said the drugs and alcohol that I consumed, and the manner in which I destroyed any friendship with insecurity fluctuated depending on how deeply I believed that ‘my life sucked’.
For all that (hi)story I do recall at various points a voice within telling me that everyone, including me, is special. So marked was this voice that it in some ways brought further chaos. I was so caught up in the symptoms of change I was unable to recognize the good for the bad in many ways.
In the briefest glimpses of lucidity there would be a peaceful assurance. I recall one such moment as a fourteen year old. At the time I was living in a children’s home, called Caldecott Community. The dormitories had just been equipped with new furniture. I was, ironically enough, the child that was constantly moved from assigned space to assigned space. At the time I was told it was because I was the most flexible. In hindsight it might have had something to do with having a sharp mind, an inflammatory attitude, and a loud mouth (the clever kid with a broken attitude can be very, very annoying to other children - that was me). The memory in question involved me looking at myself in the new mirror hung on the back of a new wooden wardrobe door and studying my eyes. I sensed a peace within me that almost seemed to conflict with the rage that would so often wage a war within me. For the briefest of moments I recall that I knew that there is something within life, and within me, that was great. But so loud was the rage in those days that rarely did I pause as I did that day.
Yet for all those memories I find it interesting that in this time I find myself committed as I am to evolving myself. I see change as an opportunity to expand, to grow. By having been so lost to the dazzling changes about me, so influenced by instability I faced throughout my childhood, I’ve witnessed myself become something profoundly more than I was before. I’ve seen the creative process in action, and the depth afforded by my expansion through change is like a river that has cut a canyon through my life; the defining question being, how have I filled that canyon - with a raging current, or a steady and certain flow of life?
And yet what would have I been without these changes? I look now at all the change I’ve experienced from a very different perspective than I did even 5 years ago. My attitudes, beliefs and values have changed. The person I am is the sum of these changes, and yet I am so much more than the sum of my parts.
I did not learn how to procrastinate, or to wait until I am ready, because I never had an opportunity to avoid change. In my childhood change was always thrust upon me I learned how to think on my feet like any latchkey kid. As a young adult, this insecurity drove me to always strive for more than the lack I was experiencing. And as an older adult I did not settle with a partner until I found someone who truly believed in the me I sensed myself to be.
As I look at my life to date I give thanks. All the violence, instability, and choices made for me created an opening. And in that opening eroded by change I could give birth to the consciousness that I am now. I have come to a place where I have begun living the mystery of life. I have just begun to see change for what it is and I accept it. I have moved to holding change in gratitude. For in this contemplation, this experience, I have come to see change as a natural part of my life. I can celebrate the memories both before and after the change, and in such acceptance I open myself most to the knowledge and wisdom change offers.
My experiences have brought to me first-hand knowledge that there will be change in the form of people coming and going, of things gained and lost. There will be experiences of less and more than expected. And if we can see change for what it is we will see it as transcendent and sublime. The deeper the cut of change the more opportunities we are afforded to expand, to become something more than we were before. In time, and if we can come to gracefully surrender and to accept, we will find a strength that results from change. When the soul is bared and the ego tested to the point of extinction we will learn a new way to see the world, and the change that both surrounds us and inhabits us.
From a place of strength change shifts from being a survival experience of blaming others, to an experience that reminds us of asking, what do I need to know to grow? Change shifts from our seeing closing doors, to asking ourselves, are we willing to go through whatever door change may open? And the greater the change we will come to learn that in time all things dissipate. The only constants come from within, and the more we align our thinking with surrender and acceptance the greater the serenity we will experience.
The most profound changes teach us to apply life’s teachings and transform our lives. I never truly excelled at school and yet here I am expressing myself through writing in this manner, and articulating a truth in my own unique way. My greatest gift has been the transformation I’ve experienced through the change I’ve witnessed. The greatest gift I could offer myself now is to evolve from acceptance of change to jumping into change. And from a place of graceful surrender to immerse myself in change, knowing that no matter what ‘thing’ might happen that the truth of who I am is infinity in action.
The experiences I have faced, that on one hand might tempt me to pride at how far I’ve come, cause others to nod in appreciative understanding, or shudder in consideration, have served to offer me a ‘before’ to compare to this now. The net result of these experiences is that I can truly celebrate change for the reminder that in remembering the truth of who I am, and what I have already endured. The greatest thanks I could bestow upon this gift of existence is to celebrate change as a reminder that I’ve come as far as I have. Given that I’ve only just begun it’s exciting to know that change has given me the opportunity to see how far I’ve already come.
Copyright (c) 2009, Carmien Owen
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