Saturday, June 19, 2010

What to Do About all that Darn Guilt?

Last week I heard about a mother who backed a trailer over her three-year-old son. It turns out it was an old neighbor of mine. My mom and I had tears in our eyes talking about it. Yes, sad for the little boy who is very hurt (though should be okay), but we were even more sad for the mom. That poor poor mom, who accidentally almost killed her child, her flesh and blood. It was just an accident. How many times do we back out of the driveway without fully looking. Of course it is not her fault, it just happened. It is not her fault.

Accidents happen all the time. How easy and clear it is when you are an outsider to say: it was just an accident; no one is at fault. And thus, conclude, no one need to feel guilty.

However, when you are actually involved in the accident, it gets messy. Very very messy.

My old neighbor will naturally feel guilty every time she sees her hurting little three-year-old. She will probably make herself sick with the guilt and have an incredibly hard-time getting over it.

And if she does get over it quickly, and doesn't feel guilty, then people will assume that she is not fully human, and has no moral fiber. Even though they know it was just an accident, and no one was to blame. But as a society, we expect people to feel guilt. It is just normal.

The only way out of "the guilt" it seems is to desensitize yourself, become numb, or .... what about taking the yogic high road?

The other day, my friend's 2 1/2 year-old boy was at one moment, running around like a kid in a candy store, outside playing with my son in our sprinkler. A few moments later, I was toweling off my son, and then wrapping a colorful towel around his friend. "Ohhh, look at the towel monster," I said. Then he took two steps and fell flat on his face.

Unfortunately, being advid gardeners, there was a gardening tool laying on our porch, and his face came down squarely on the blade, slicing his nostril in half all the way from the bridge of his nose to the tip. It was bad.

We spent the night in the hospital, with the pediatric plastic-surgeon doing a delicate job of stitching him back up. Four layers of stitches later, his nose looks wonderful, well, except for the line of stitches. He may have a bit of a scar, but should look normal once again. Phew.

But it was a long traumatic night for both son and his mother. All night, I try to keep present and be there for my friend and help when I can. I try to keep things up beat, if possible. My friend is amazingly positive, saying such things like: imagine how much worse it could of been. Imagine if it was the other side of that tool facing up - the side with the three-pronged-spikes! Imagine if it went into his eye....imagine....

She is just so darn gracious and positive, and doesn't blame me at all. And all's I keep thinking is: oh my god, I feel so guilty. Why did we have that tool out. It was dangerous! Why didn't I put it away! Why did I wrap him so tightly in a towel so that his hands were tied. Why why why! And now, look at all this suffering because of it! It is excruciating!

Of course I keep this to myself because I don't want to even go there. And I certainly don't want to be self indulgent when it clearly isn't my time of need.

But it is only human to feel guilty, even when rationally you know it was just a freak accident.

The world is dangerous. We could house proof outside and in, until we are blue in the face with worry, and yet the child will always find a way to get into trouble or to hurt himself. Sometimes, it just feels like things where meant to happen and out of our hands.

How many accidents happen each day that turn out to be the best thing that could of happened? For example, two people who haven't seen each other in years "accidentally" bump into each other, and then end up married. (Of course no one is feeling guilty for this accident).

I wonder, on a higher level, what is going on?

I have read from several different sources, that we make our own "life contract" up before we come to this earth. We have come here to learn, and in this contract we have agreed on certain life experiences to help us learn and grow.

This makes me feel much better. Not only that suffering has a reason, but that is was also consenting.

I have always known that guilt is a negative, paralyzing, self-deprecating emotion. It can lead to self-hatred, and contributes to lack of self-confidence. Guilt in and of itself does not do any good, or lead to improvement.

The yogi's advise is to focus on recognizing that ones actions were incorrect, and not that the "I" is intrinsically bad.

And Yogi's are all about "getting over yourself." The less you cling to yourself, the more free you are. The more free you are, the more free you are to merge with the divine cosmic "I".

Having some down time, and some sleep to process it all. I still believe it is my fault for having a dangerous tool out on our porch, when it clearly should have been in the garage. We have a 2 year old boy, we should have known better. But still we got busy and the tool was there.

But, what I come to believe is that it was a freak accident. What were the chances of someone falling onto the one thing little thing in our whole backyard that could cause the most harm? And what are the chances of falling so hard onto it, like being unable to brace their fall completely? It is crazy right?

So looking at it. If guilt is just a negative thought pattern, that leads to more self-clinging behavior, it will do me no good. I am working towards enlightenment not the other way. So, I figure I will learn my lesson of being more careful of dangers, especially for my son, and potential dangers at home. And not indulge too much in the what if's, and the why's and the guilt. I am going to let it go, and just accept. learn and move on.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Be Kind To Yourself

The Domestic Yogi says: be kind to yourself. Speak up if you need some alone time. or some time away from the kid(s). Expect to be given attitude about it, but if you don't then be happy. Go to a chick flick with your girls. Or if not, go by yourself, and enjoy it. Embrace the moment, and don't fret too much about how the movie girls always have the very best friends in the world (who always know what to say and do), and have men who always (in the end) know how to please her.

Movies are to escape. Reality is reality. But it sure is nice to escape for a little bit.

I know I am a better mom when I finally stand up for myself and get a little time away. I wish it wasn't always such a struggle.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Is it possible to respect someone being disrespectful?

This is a question that comes from my friend's Facebook post. It is so easy to judge others, especially when they seem so ignorant and disrespectful. But as Steve, the Sundance Chief explains, it is of utmost importance to respect others. It is how we become better people. 

I was just in a sweat a week ago, and the Saltcreek Sundance Chief/Medicine man talked a bit about what it means to have respect for others. He said, all people, animals, plants and the earth should be shown respect. This is how we create a more beautiful and sacred world. And also how we grow as individuals.

He said, if you look at the word respect, it doesn't necessarily mean to honor or hold in high esteem. It also means to look at attentively, observe closely, or show differential regard for. So to respect something/someone, you first need to pay attention to it, acknowledge it for what it really is. With pure mind, you do not need to judge. Instead you see it for what it is.

Each and every person in this world deserves respect. You may not hold them or their actions in high esteem. But, as I see it, you respect that they are a fellow human being on this earth, who has lived a certain life with certain life experiences which made them who they are today. You respect that they live by certain rules and a moral code that they deem important and appropriate for them. Yes, they may be misguided, and act disrespectfully, but that is their choice, and perhaps they didn't have as great as karma/teachers/experiences to teach them otherwise.

The Chief talked about respecting his ancestors, and appreciating the lives they lived, and the medicine, the teachings they gave us, and "native ways" that they passed down. But that many of their actions he doesn't hold in high esteem. He has learned from his ancestors mistakes, and vows never to repeat their mistakes. He gives them utmost regard in his daily life, and shows so much respect for his ancestors because he knows what the full meaning of what paying respect means. 

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Our Camping Commune

I love that we go camping as a family. I love reconnecting to nature, forgoing time-sucking technology, letting go of cleanliness standards, and just having fun in the moment with the ones I love. Sure. there are many down-sides of camping, (like a whole morning spent packing, the piles of laundry, the bugs, the rain, the sleeping arrangements...) but I always return with a glow that makes it all worth it.

What I love the most about when we camp is that it is more than just my family and me camping along-side anonymous neighbours. The camping we do usually involves non-camp ground facilities, and our eclectic band of Saltcreek Sundancers. This Sundance community is a special group of friends mostly from Indiana, but also from Europe, Canada, and all over the US, who have gone to the week-long Sundance in Hoosier National Forest for the past 10 or so years.

When we go camping, I usually don't know all of the details: "What do you mean we can't take the big tent with the queen blow up mattress? Oh we are portaging across the lake. It's the day of, why are you telling me this now?" Or today I ask myself, "will there be toilets?" (no one else will know, so why waste my breath.)

This time, we were camping at the Sundance grounds off-season. The grounds are in a special place of the national forest, and is protected by the National Forest Service (NFS). The NFS has kindly granted permission for this site to be used for the Saltcreek Sundance, and related special events, but otherwise (I believe) it is not allowed for any other use.

When we arrive at the grounds, normally we are welcomed by the red-shirted Sundance volunteer security peeps and look down onto a wide grassy-field dotted with parked cars. Bounding down the hill this time it is eerily quiet. Instead of tents popping out of the woods, and kids zipping along the grass, there is a deserted prairie-like field of waist high grass.

Like an iron buffalo (ha ha), our truck makes it through the grass, past the wood skeleton of the sundance arbor. Visions of the colorful Sundance tree with all fifty or so Sundancers circled around singing with all their hearts, seemingly haunt the arbor's sacred space left alone "to breathe" for the rest of the year.

Back within the safety of the forest, we see signs of people, and our Sundance friends welcome us with open arms. First order of business is to set up camp (thankfully avec big tent and queen mattress) and thankfully with a little help from our friends. And yes, hullelujah, there are two nice clean port-o-pots!

Next order of business is to get out the big drum, gather the singers, so we can sing the sacred Lakota songs for the ones who are up on the hill.

That is why we are here, to support those four people who are searching for direction and answers on their vision quest up on "the hill." The vision-questers have prepared for this weekend for many months, and the Sundance Chief has aided countless people (native and non-native) through this native rite.

Although the Chief has put the people on the hill in the sacred way, and has said many prayers and sung sacred songs for them, "the people" have come together now, with one voice, to call out more sacred songs. I like to think that our singing helps raise the vibration of the forest, and helps to call upon more spirits. I hope it helps the vision-questers to feel the love of our Sundance family and to bring their mind to a sacred place.

What I do know is that a half-hour into the singing, my little 2-year-old son is acting like he snuck a whole chocolate bar and washed it down with a can of (forbidden) cola. He is wired to say the least.

My son is familiar with the sacred songs from them being blasted from our stereo, or from last year's Sundance, first-hand at the sweats or ceremonies we have be to since he was in utero. He loves banging on our drums and belting out a striped down song, "tunkashila wama tunkashila" over and over again.

When the drum came out, my son was mesmerized. There he was sitting along the other men around the big buffalo hide-drum holding special drumsticks, preparing and praying before they started to sing. My son, then stoic and serious, looked like a boy ready to take on the responsibility of being a man.

He didn't quite get to join in with the drumming, but sat on my lap taking it all in. He sat and and sat until he pulled me to my feet to join the other ladies dancing and singing. We stayed here dancing and singing until his little friend Teddy arrived and he went away (pulsating) to play.

In the evening, the Chief led a sweat for the 30 or so people who wanted to join. It was such an honor to be in a big sweat, full of experienced "walkers of the red road", and led by the Chief. Normally at the Sundance, the women and men sweat separately. For some reason, at our Sundance, the man are exponentially more experienced and trusted with more responsibilities than the women. The men dominate the dance. The women are humble, and tend to be pushed aside at our Dance. It is very obvious. So as a women, sweating with "the experienced" men was a definite treat.

And what a sweat it was! First we honored the rocks, and then honored our Chief. When we honored the four directions, and said the spirit invitation song, something extraordinary happened. The pitch dark sweat lodge was lit up with white spirit orbs, and lightening-bug-like spirit lights floated around the top of the lodge.

Rattles were rattling whizzing about
eagle-bone whistles sang
other-worldly-sounding bird songs started to sweetly chirp
a rush of air, a flapping of large wings
a unmistakable growling-hiss of cat that made your hairs stand on end
horse hoofs clack-clack-clacking
the walls of the tents shaking like someone was grabbing it from the top.

I am used to seeing these sorts of things in a lowampi ceremony done in a black room, but never have I heard of it happening in a sweat.

When you are in the sweat, it is like you are back in the womb, and in direct contact with the "invisible world", or the "great mystery" or the "divine" or whatever you want to call it. There is a shift that happens when you start the sweat, and its something that you can only feel in your bones and gut.

For me, things of this nature have always seemed real. I may have small moments of "is this for real!" but overall, experiencing it, seeing it, hearing it, and knowing the background of these people and the Chief, (who are not there to impress and make believers out of anyone), always leads me to the same conclusion. The things we heard and felt in the sweat sound silly put on paper. But it is the truth of what we experienced, or anyone, when you start to walk down the path of the "red road" that has any true medicine. 

Beyond all the strange sights and sounds of the sweat (which acted to solidify that the spirits are in deed out there looking out for us), the sweat was a beautiful time for the Chief to give us guidance, and for us to pray for the people on the hill, and the people in our lives that needed help. 

In our prayers out loud, I hear my husband say a little prayer for me and the baby inside of me, and the whole lodge meets his prayer with "a ho!" or some noise to help strengthen his prayer, and it's like a lightening rod zooms through me. I am filled with so much love for my husband and appreciation of being involved in these native ways.

When it's my turn, I manage to squeak out my prayers, knowing the spirits are listening, and my community is sympathizing to my humble prayers in my small voice.

Three rounds done and it's not too hot in there, like the unbearable heat of some of the sweats. But I am pregnant, and worried about over-doing it, thereby harming the baby. Between rounds, I catch glimpses of my son sitting quietly in a camping chair in front of the fire. I know he is in good hands with Rachel, but I find my mind now overcome with worry that maybe she is tired and needs to leave, or feeling guilty for leaving her with three kids, or worried that my son will soon be upset. In order to put my women's mind at ease, I sneak out of the sweat before the last round, kissing the earth and saying mitakuye oyasin, all my relations, on my way out.

This is why I love my life and love camping so much.

In it's unrefined idealistic state (I say this because there is also lots of drama to go with it) I feel so blessed to feel like part of a community, and one that is trying to help others, pray for others, and to better themselves.

Camping to me is much more than going out in the woods with a tent. Camping to me and my family means it is a time to have fun and to reconnect with each other, with friends, with the earth, and with spirit.

Namaste ~ Wopila