While teaching a Primary School Science lesson on Push / Pull force, I became intensely aware of how much we use physical force to maintain and support our existence in the three-dimensional world. Sharing and brainstorming at the start of the lesson all the ways we use push force daily filled the class whiteboard within minutes.
I’m at the gym – again. And I’m on the treadmill – again. Behind me I hear the yanking of the front door over and over and I have to keep myself from not getting too frustrated. You see, at my gym there are one of those doors where you need to hold your membership card against a card reader. The system usually needs about one second, which I think is quite fair, to get the door to open, but today it seems like that is way too slow for many. It’s usually too slow most days but today it seems to be particularly so. I notice that I have to really keep myself from running over and explaining that the poor door needs some time to do the job, but I stay on my moving belt.
Recently I have been reflecting on the many ways I have sought comfort in the past, and I realise how for most of us these would have been considered normal ways of living. I am becomingly increasingly aware of the dullness in my body when I choose many of these comforts now, but there are times when I still make choices that are not fully supportive for me.
With a deepened honesty and awareness of the truth of how I am living, let me share the many ways I have been in comfort.
Our workplace cleaners went on holiday over Christmas, so when our kitchen bin reached capacity, I emptied the rubbish and noticed for the first time that the liner was tied on the side to fit the bin snugly. I put a fresh bag in and was dutifully tying it on the side, when one of my colleagues asked what I was doing. I said I was tying the liner on the way we do it around here – wondering if I had got it wrong.
No-one told me to tie the bin liner into place. There was no rule written or guideline to follow – I just saw that that was how it had been done and followed without further thought or question. These small and insignificant moments are perfect examples of how much of what we do in life is a mechanical or automatic adoption of the way we’ve seen how something is done. Continue reading “Religious Behaviour and Bin Liners”
Do we go mainly on what we hear and see, rather than what we feel?
Recently while watching a College of Universal Medicine web broadcast, Serge Benhayon and Universal Medicine presented something that really made me feel and see just how I relate with, and to the world. In truth, what was presented here feels like the tip of a very deep iceberg, of something that has been going on and has been deeply ingrained in me – and probably society – for a very long time. That is, do we mainly go on what we hear and see, rather than what we feel? There is still a lot for me to learn with this, but while I’m in the process of exploring it I felt it was important to express what was experienced. Continue reading “Hearing and Seeing versus Feeling”
I remember being a very aware and joyful child, at two years of age or younger. It’s clear that something happened to me between then and adulthood. How is it that adult life becomes so serious, so burdened, that we constantly look for ways to numb and escape? TV, chocolate, alcohol, work, sex… somehow never recapturing that joyful flow, wisdom, presence and sensitivity of childhood. I like to observe kids, as many adults do. Something in them answers questions in us, even if we don’t know we’re asking. I wonder whether all of the child I was is really lost, or still in there somewhere? I do have a very playful, silly ‘streak’ and don’t mind looking ‘childish’ in public if I’m having harmless fun, like doing slippery-shoe slides along the shopping mall floor, or hanging out of a nice tree.
But I notice with some sadness that what’s classed as ‘fun’ by many adults is harmful of themselves and others. It seems the definition of a good weekend can be: how destroyed by alcohol your brain and body is by Monday morning, or how many videos you watched, or whether you’re in pain from an overstuffed stomach at a smorgasbord, or whether you ‘scored’ in a night club, or how ache-y you are from too much hard work in the gym, house and garden…. To me, none of these feel like the flowing joys of childhood. Why should ‘simple and healthy’ be associated with children, whilst ‘complicated and harmful’ are associated with adulthood?
We have all felt hurt at some time in our lives. It is as common a human experience as eating or sleeping. Many of us accept that life is full of hurts and that is just the way it is. But what is a hurt exactly?
Most of us would probably say that we feel or register a hurt any time we do not feel truly met, understood and respected for who we are. On a more practical level, any time we do not feel respect, decency, love and honesty, we say we feel hurt by this. We then assume that this is how it is and that there is no other way. But is this exactly true? Could there be another possibility? Do we have to feel hurt by the lack of love in the world?