To write a book takes a lot of love toward ourselves and the world. Even though there is a limitless amount of love available, we need to do what it takes to tap into this love and accompanying energy.  That's because with any meaningful project comes resistance. 

Resistance arrives along side something that you want to bring to the light, to life.  This new life, this book or other creative project or action must push itself through the dark soil of doubt and fear. Push itself through the damp aloneness and make the choice to trust that there is light there, if I just keep moving my life forward.

Push through the belief of insignificance. 

Resistance is a Trickster.  She arrives with all her baggage, all her hindrances and patterns. But she is only  present when there is something worthwhile wanting to get to the light. The bigger the resistance, the more tricky she is, and, the more meaningful the action. She's actually the soil for our intentions, dreams and projects.  

Resistance can come to as us as patterns like the one of us getting into other’s business rather than attending to our own life. ("Oh I have to focus on this, instead of my book.")

Resistance can come as fear of success, or failure, or fear of mistakes or that someone won’t like what we write or do. ("I don't think I can actually pull this off. And if I do, who cares about what I have to say?")

Resistance comes in the form of laziness, giving into patterns, over eating or drinking, watching one too many reruns. ("I deserve to just let everything go, life is hard." "I will maybe get to this later.") 

When understood as a friend we discover the Trickster Resistance brings with her the need to get to work. She insists that we bring to the world our gifts. The gifts we inherited at birth. Remember, the greater the gift, the stronger the resistance. And, a warning here. Resistance doesn't just go away.  Ever. She is that soil to push through every time you are about to give up to doubt, or give into patterns. 

Consider your dreams and intentions. Consider what is bothering you now about the conditions of the world. Consider the projects you've started. Consider your inherent gifts.  Notice the flavors of resistance that surround them.  Understand them as the soil of your project and ideas.  Love yourself enough to push through the fear, aloneness, darkness and doubt. 

Now get to work. 

Want some help moving through resistance?  Sign up for my personal MENTORSHIP PROGRAM FOR WRITERS:  HERE.

The journey begins Friday October 6th, 2023.  Find out more or register HERE

 
“For me, being in prison writing in an African language was a way of saying: "Even if you put me in prison, I will keep on writing in the language which made you put me in prison."
Ngugi wa Thiong'o

"Research shows that we tend to get focused on the “one thing” that will bring us happiness—usually it is a possession, a relationship, or some experience like a trip to Hawaii or a raise. This is not to say these are not good things, but the happiness quotient simply doesn’t last, so we move our attention, our focus, onto the next object of our happiness. This is an illusion, a fabrication—nothing outside our self will bring lasting happiness—even writing a book or landing the perfect job or publisher. 

The illusion that “when I get this I will be happy," is called the focusing illusion. Our happiness is focused on putting our happiness on outward objects and circumstances that typically has us looking into the future. This illusion puts the focus of our happiness on something or someone outside of ourself. We get what we thought we wanted and find it doesn’t bring us the lasting happiness or inspiration we expected, so we get discouraged. Or we go purchase another something that has gotten our attention or put our search engines onto another source in hopes that this will make us happy.

​Beyond the illusion of happiness, true happiness flourishes.

Freeing Ourselves From Specific Search Images
Awhile back I talked with a wildlife biologist about how people put so much energy, time, and money into searching for happiness. I told him how we get our minds set on something and our desire for it increases. He promptly said, “Tinbergen’s research on prey selection.” Nikolas Tinbergen found in his research that tits (Paridae) tended to favor one kind of larval Lepidoptera at any given time—a fancy term for their favored food. He saw that the birds were actively searching for these particular species while ignoring other potential food sources. He labeled this phenomenon “specific search image.” This reveals a connection between Tinbergen’s study and how we too tend to go in search of a given source of happiness, missing other potential sources. Humans tend to be very search specific; habitual in what we are looking for and the places that we look for it. We tend to become habitual in what we want, search for, and, as a result, find. This reflects a popular warning, be careful what of what you wish for.

A more accurate caution is: pay attention to what you are searching for. 

What are you searching for? What do you believe (or assume) will bring you happiness?  Contemplate that. 

We tend to not see beyond what we are searching for.  Write about a time you were surprised by what arrived unexpectedly in your life.  What were the causes and conditions that allowed for this arrival? Write about that. 
. 

More Writer's prompts and Contemplations for the curious
Ask yourself:

• Are you like the bird in the study, always going for the same source of nourishment (happiness, fulfillment) when something else might better feed you?
• What are other possibilities of where you can put your focus that you may be overlooking? Where are you the most habitual (this is where you are most likely in search mode)?
• Where are you putting your energy in seeking fulfillment from another rather than actively living a fulfilling life? (Consider the difference between the volunteer who went to Ecuador to help build bridges and the person that went to a shaman in Ecuador for insight into their purpose here on Earth.)
• How do you see yourself being spiritually or creatively fulfilled? (Hint: If fulfillment comes only or mostly from some outward end result—beware, the focusing illusion is at play. If, on the other hand, fulfillment comes from the act of creating, then happiness is assured.)

Fortunately, unlike Tinbergen’s birds, we have the innate ability to train our minds and to put our attention where we choose. (Choice is an underutilized superpower). We can become more receptive to the mystery of each moment and get a full spectrum of possibilities offered up to us in a given moment.  Give up the search and take a look around you. 

The monkey is reaching
For the moon in the water .
Until death overtakes him
If he’ d let go the branch and
Disappear in the deep pool ,
The whole world would shine
With dazzling pureness .    – Hakuin Ekaku, "The Monkey is Reaching 

My spiritual pilgrimage began at a very young age as I searched for a sense of place and belonging. The Lutheran minister who, when I was eight, told the story of the monk on the cliff and later baptized me with “just” tap water at thirteen was my first spiritual teacher. His stories and support encouraged me to keep looking within for the meaning and belonging I craved. During the younger years of my pilgrimage, I was a vigilante in search of God. Later in life, I found that giving up the myth of the spiritual quest was a way to “discover Spirit” in my day-to-day experiences. On my path to the present, I found the I Ching at the age of sixteen. I also began to refer to God as the Great Unknown. This helped me hold a conversation with that “Something” I knew was here without holding it captive in some religious scheme.
 
Then, about eight years ago, I had a dark passage that lasted about two years wherein I felt a break in my connection to Spirit, although I didn’t give up my various spiritual practices entirely. I had been heartbroken by the dogma and possessiveness within a spiritual sangha where I had previously, for a decade, found teachings and refuge. What broke my relationship with these teachers and teachings was my inability to endorse their emphasis on ritual, their belief in and manipulation of the idea of hell, their advocacy of human dominion over the Earth, and their emphasis on accumulating merit through certain rigid practices.
 
At one particular dark edge, I felt desperate and wanted to give up. I can’t say how that “giving up” would have manifested entirely, but I felt a bottom to my hope, which I’d never felt before. My connection to the teachings and to my spiritual source felt severed. I did manage to keep some conversation going with the Great Unknown, although I had more or less given up on the idea that God, or some greater power, existed.
 
My isolation from spiritual friends and from my spiritual source generated a chronic sadness in me. Was I utterly on my own? Determined to lift myself out of my malaise, I went online and looked at an email I’d received from Wisdom Publications on their recent books. There was one book written by His Holiness the Dalai Lama, so I thought it would be relatively user-friendly. His teachings were generous, and more often than not they were nondogmatic. So I clicked on “purchase” and waited for the book to arrive. I had a small ligament of hope as well as the intention of using the book’s teachings as a way to host this particular edge and hopefully get beyond it.
 
When the book arrived, I dove into it within minutes and couldn’t believe what I was reading! This from the foreword by Donald Swearer: “It is only by being in nature that the trees, rocks, earth, sand, animals, birds, and insects can teach us the lesson of forgetting the self—being at one with the Dharma. The destruction of nature, then, implies the destruction of Dharma.” I can now reveal that some of the disillusionment I felt with my former colleagues at the sangha was due to their belief that animals, although sentient beings, are less than we are. We are considered the better species, as taught in so many religions. This assumption encourages a selfishness that is wholly destructive. I felt then and continue to believe now that we are all part of a great circle of life. Further in the foreword by Donald Swearer, I read how it is important for us to live “according to the laws of nature, and the consequences of following the laws of nature reflect his view that all human beings share a common natural environment and are part of communities embedded in the natural order of things. This interconnected universe we inhabit is the natural condition of things. To act contrary to this law of nature is to suffer because such actions contradict reality. Consequently, the good of the individual parts is predicated on the good of the whole, and vice versa.”
 
These words spoke directly to my recent alienation from my sangha. On nearly every visit I had made to the temple, a nun had pointed out various things I was doing incorrectly. The emphasis in the book that I held in my hands wasn’t on ritual and worship and doing things correctly, but on understanding our part in the natural scheme of things and respecting the interconnectedness of reality.
 
Jack Kornfield wrote in his preface: “When I asked him how so many Westerners who begin spiritual life with deep inner wounds, pain, and self-hatred can best approach practice, he replied simply with two suggestions. First, their whole spiritual practice should be enveloped by the principles of metta (loving kindness). Then they should be taken out into nature, into beautiful forests or mountains. They must stay there long enough to realize that they too are a part of nature.”
 
I wept and felt the active, large conversation between me and the Great Unknown. I felt myself at a threshold.
 
But I wondered.
 
I was getting through the forward and preface with no mention of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and only occasional references to Buddhadasa Bhikkhu. I read on and when I got into the text it became clear to me that the book I had received was not the one I’d ordered. The cover of the book was the one I’d ordered, but the book inside the cover was not. The publisher or printer had mistakenly put this book inside the Dalai Lama’s book cover.
 
The book I ordered was The Middle Way: Faith Grounded in Reason, by the Dalai Lama, translated by Thupten Jinpa. The title of the book I received was The Heartwood of the Bodhi Tree: The Buddha’s Teaching on Voidness by Buddhadasa Bhikkhu, edited by Santikaro Bhikkhu. At the time, I would not have chosen a book about voidness. I already felt enough void and was drawn, as I shared earlier, to teachings from His Holiness the Dalai Lama. And yet, this book that I’d received instead was exactly what my soul needed at that time. This book and its message instantly lifted me out of my darkness. This is because I knew at the time I was being helped.
 
Early on in the book, I read: “To call something a ‘fundamental principle of Buddhism’ is only correct if, first, it is a principle that aims at the quenching of dukkha (pain, misery, suffering) and, second, it has a logic that one can see for oneself without having to believe others.” Buddhadasa Bhikkhu warns here about spiritual life becoming a matter of “superstition, or rites and rituals, and of making merit by rote to insure against some kind of fear; [where then] there is no contact with real Buddhism.” This was exactly what I needed to read and to receive to host the edge of my spiritual discontent and isolation. I read through the book, taking in its message as my heart opened up at this threshold to a revitalized conversation with the Great Unknown.
 
Further into the book, I learned that its transcriber and teacher, Santikaro, who had previously been living in Thailand, was now living only an hour’s drive away from me in Wisconsin. There he and his spouse had established a quiet rural refuge center (Kevela Retreat Center). I have since attended some of his teachings and continue to do so.
 
What made the Unknown known to me was remaining at this threshold and conversing with its inherent edge. If I had given up on this conversation at this dark time, I cannot be sure where I would be now. And I so love the contradictions and paradoxical nature of the Great Unknown’s arrival coming to me in Buddhist teachings that I can understand and relate to.
 
As long as we keep the conversation going and keep hold of the red thread, the Great Unknown in return becomes a thread and the giver of threads. This practice of staying in the eternal conversation with the Great Unknown is not always easy, but as I do, when I do, I feel myself to be an expression of this great source. Other large conversations on this same order of magnitude can take place while we sit under a tree, walk mindfully on a path, or sit somewhere in the wild at a time the sun is about to rise or set. These thresholds of conversation hold the secret nectar of a fulfilling life. They can, and ideally do, take place as we listen. Through these conversations, we are in dialogue with our spiritual source, with nature, with each other, and with our true self.
 
This blog is an excerpt from my recent book, The Clue of the Red Thread: Discovering Fearlessness and Compassion in Uncertain Times (p. 93). Shanti Arts Publishing. 2021

How have you been helped by some divine intervention?  Write about that.

How have you gotten through your dark edges and found your red thread?  Contemplate that. 

"You tend to take something someone said and focus on that."   A friend recently said after I asked for feedback about getting triggered.  Which, by the way, further triggered me. Tis the season to be triggered. 

"I just want to get to the point where I'm not triggered," a client said to me in a session.

"I don't believe that is possible, what is possible is for us to learn how to respond to triggers in healthy, nonhabitual,  reactive ways," I replied. 

That I believe is possible. To not have our triggers run our lives. To be more at peace, to be free from our defensive patterns. For such freedom we have to maintain some awareness on the spot. Notice the sensations in the body, and thoughts in the mind.  Though we feel reactive, we can slow down and ask ourselves: "What is directing this reaction?"  Dedicate time to contemplate what provokes us along with identifying ways to respond to these triggers. When we become aware of what provokes us, saddens us or causes us fear or defensiveness, we can practice being with it in a compassionate way. Include in this awareness an understanding that daily life and relationships are full of triggers. Even objects like a broken dish, a picture of someone, a bottle of alcohol can trigger us.

Contemplate the last few times you were reactive, perhaps defensive, and what was the (likely) trigger. Write about that.  Focus on your side of things, not so much on what the other person did or didn't do. What inside of you was triggered? 

I was recently triggered in a group where I experienced someone cutting me off in a conversation around, paradoxically, triggers.  My reactive state was to feel disregarded and to drop out of the circle entirely. I did not. I intentionally have stayed put. And, I went into active contemplation around what provoked me. I listened to my body and thoughts. I soon became aware that she had triggered an old story where "someone I perceived doing me wrong but not admitting to it."  Family history stuff. All our triggers have a history. In the past I wanted others to admit to their alcoholism, their abuses or unkindnessess. I wanted others to make amends. Such old stories getting triggered are an opportunity to practice.  Practice noticing what is coming up through mindfulness and contemplation.  After a couple days of active contemplation around what was triggering me  I arrived at this reminder (and felt instantly freed): My happiness does not depend on others acknowledging wrongdoing they may have done to me, while my happiness does depend on my acknowledging any wrongdoing I may have done to others. 

A few days later I got triggered by a friend who  made a comment  that seemed to say I was her back up plan for her holiday and that she was disappointed in this. That's when I asked for feedback from another friend, who then said, ""You tend to take something someone said and focus on that."  

Her feedback was so helpful. (Please notice that I was sincere in my asking for feedback, which is important here. Unsolicited feedback is not good for sender or receiver.) I did stop her from going into more detail of how this was a pattern of mine. Perhaps stopping her was like not putting too much salt on a good meal.  I let her comment season my heart and mind. I let it guide my contemplations. 

That following morning before my meditation practice I got this in my inbox:  "When you love, truly love somebody, there is no version of reality in which what is good for them is bad for you, no choice they could possibly make that is right for them and wrong for you, nothing they could give you that could make love more complete.  This is a difficult notion for the Western mind to grasp — too easy to mistake for the psychopathology of codependence, too quick to slip into the tyrannical Romantic ideal of merging.  At its heart is something else altogether: a kind of transcendent ego-dissolution under which the self ceases to be and becomes Being."
That is what Ram Dass (April 6, 1931–December 22, 2019), from his landmark 1971 book Be Here Now.
The message went on:  "Most people see the problem of love primarily as that of being loved, rather than that of loving, of one’s capacity to love. Hence the problem to them is how to be loved, how to be lovable.”

Everything continued to open for me with this reminder. My focus on something I think someone said that was unkind was about me, and being loved. In many wisdom traditions this is known as abandonment panic (many triggers provoke this abandonment panic/anxiety. The abandonment panic gets us focusing on how we are not loved or how we are being abandoned.) Even where someone has said or done an unkindness how does it serve me or humanity to focus on the wrong?   Our practice can be about deepening our capacity to be loving. To go out in the world and focus our attention and actions on being loving. Even when being triggered. 

 “I believe mindful acts of agency and activism remind us of our potential to bring about profound change. After all, we are not disembodied characters. The sensations we feel are genuine and permit us to communicate with others and experience deep connections. Observing these sensations and understanding our motivation can shed more light on our true intentions. With practice, I’ve learned that this process can help us shift out of discomfort and fear and position us to act from a place of kindness and courage.” –Lauren Krauze, Tricycle Magazine, March 15th, 2016

Everything is Waiting for You.        by David Whyte

Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice. You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the
conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.

​What's waiting for you?  Write about that.

My dog Lulu does not like to be leashed. She will however go for long walks with me, leashed, as the alternative to no walk.  We make it to the dog park at least twice a week, so she can run free of restraint. Off leash she greets and plays with other dogs and chases her nose out beyond my view.  

I'm going for an analogy here.

Where in your life do you feel leashed and unable to follow your nose, your curiosities and longings?  Write about that.  

These leashed places are not safe. What would we do and experience differently, what would we pursue or chase, unleashed? Explore this. 

When was a time you escaped or slipped out of a leash and chased an idea till you caught it?  Write about that. 

When we are discouraged to doubt authority or break the rules we stop following our noses. We hesitate to  explore out beyond the tug of a leash. When we can't move our awareness  and explorations out beyond what we have been instructed to see or experience, we are not really truly seeing what is possible. 

To be curious is to explore, to explore is to discover. 

Instead of doubting yourself, doubt what you are being told.

The old myths and propaganda around doubt and curiosity—such that curiosity killed the cat and that it will get you in a heap of trouble—is a myth intended to control the congregation and keep naughty kids (and adults) in line. Propaganda and dogma's purpose is to make you unwilling to challenge what you are told or question authority. Rules set up so that you must follow them to get the prize makes you an acolyte, not a leader. In his seventh-century commentary on Aryadeva’s Four Hundred [Verses] on the Yogic Deeds of Bodhisattvas, Chandrakirti tells the story of a ship’s captain captured by an ogress.

"What do you see on the screen that may help you with your question?"   –An Apple technician helping me navigate my new computer. 

“And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being.”
Black Elk 
 
Nothing so hardens the heart of man as a barren familiarity with sacred things.
J. C. Ryle

I finished my death cleanse. Hundreds of books along with other objects of affection went on to new lives elsewhere. Most gifted, some recycled, a few tossed out. One antique typewriter sold to someone who collects them.  I like the spaciousness. I don't miss anything.  I have kept some objects sitting out as friends, companions on my journey. There’s my many bear fetishes from trips with my daughter that act like a bookmark to these memories. These fetishes hold a sacredness, a beauty that I more easily enjoy now because they stand out. 
 
What do your objects say about you? What is the story of a cherished object? Explore that, write about that.

​How did this object come to be? Write about that.

What do you remember truly seeing today?  Write about what happened and what you saw.

When we are habitual in our seeing  of something  we don't actually notice it. To explore something, to be curious about that thing you encounter, is to connect with it. To connect with one object in a true way is to connect with the story of that object.  And all the stories connected to that story.

Everything has a story.
​​
Our words too as objects may become too familiar, habitual. Conscious writing, whether it be for our personal explorations or for others to read, means we give purposeful attention to what we are writing about. If I am writing about hope, for example, what images, words and objects will bring hope alive within me and my readers?  What details of emotions or symbols describe hope? 

What is an object of hope, that expresses or reveals hope for you? Write about that. 

Recall finding hope during a difficult time. Does an object of significance stand out? Remember that; Write about that.
​
Objects certainly hold metaphorical symbology in our writing, they may also have personality and deliver a message. 
 
Christine DeSmet , a writing coach and author of several fiction mentions how objects play a central role in scenes and story. “Often, an object in any story becomes a spotlight for both the character and reader. The object draws our attention and we know it's important somehow. Objects lead the reader to a surprise or understanding that is deeper than life without the object. Effective writers choose objects carefully because they carry meanings such as hope, love, despair, loss, or happiness, to name a few examples. When a writer has trouble creating a character or finding depth, one question to ask is this:  What does the character collect? Collections of objects say a lot about humans. The collection might be what's in your junk drawer in the kitchen, or what you have inside a valuable case in a prized spot in a family room or den. We all collect objects at some time or other in our lives because the objects signify something important about time, place, purpose, people, and our emotions connected to any of those aspects.”  –Christine DeSmet, author and writing coach, was the director of the popular Write-by-the-Lake Writer's Workshop & Retreat, offered through University of Wisconsin-Madison Continuing Studies. She can be reached HERE.

​What do you collect? Write a story about that. Or, do these objects seem to find and collect you?) Write about that.

In my relationships as a therapist and mentor, conversations often turn to this increasing hunger for inspiration. It’s as if enthusiasm and inspiration remain sequestered from our time in lockdown. The ongoing pandemic along with other environmental, social and personal crises make inspiration a challenge and an essential.
 
From my continued contemplation into friendship, I've discovered how the natural world offers a reliable companionship, a friendship abundant in inspiration and instruction.  The Mulberry tree in my backyard has come to be a great friend and teacher on life as well as an inspiration for my writing. My spiritual friend and guide, Cat Greenstreet, who offers clearness conversations based on clearness committees, asked me what the Mulberry Tree teaches me about my writing project.  The project I habitually avoided but wanted to finish. The project that held a lot of spiritual value for me, and I trust for others. Simply exploring this question resulted in movement. I recognized that I relied on being in the spring of my creative energy, you know, that intense enthusiasm and inspiration! I, like many, am abundant with plans and ideas at the beginning of things. To hold an expectation of such inspiration throughout any project (or relationship) is a huge obstacle. I wasted creative energy and years expecting that initial enthusiasm as I approached the half-way point of this writing project.  So, when Cat asked me, what the Mulberry Tree teaches me about my project, I unearthed wisdom and inspiration buried deep within me. I recognized that I was at the “making jam” phase with this particular writing project. Making jam, after picking the berries, is a fall project. And, to make jam (get this writers!), I have to clear the kitchen and set up the jars and other cooking utensils first. Not the most exciting part of making jam, but necessary to reap the benefits. Which got me thinking how the fall’s making jam energy is much, much different than watching the tree blossom in spring or the harvesting of berries in summer. I rather enjoy the solitude and quite inspiration in making jam.  

A deep sigh resounded throughout my body, a relief accompanied by joy. And action.
 
I know how to prepare the space for my writing, just as I know how to prepare the kitchen for making jam. In fact, this project is already fully written in a journal, (so much like having the berries in the bowl). Time to make space to make jam! Within a few days I was nearly finished with my project.
 
I allowed myself to have the quiet inspiration that goes with transcribing the journal notes (the berries in the bowl), onto the page (into the jars). I let go of all expectations of excited enthusiasm and beginner’s thrills and let myself settle into the next stage and experiences of the creative process. I heard the cans “pop” as they set (the click of the keys as the words dropped onto the computer page); then I put them all on the shelf (published the project in full,) to let myself and future readers enjoy my labor of love.

What natural phenomena can teach you about your creative project? Contemplate that; write about that. Take some time to sit with, photograph and gleam some enthusiasm from this friend.
 
What season is your project in? Notice that. Write where you are.
 
How can you set up the space for you to be quietly inspired by your ideas and work?

"It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living." ­–David Attenborough, Watch the free PBS Series on The Green Planet for some beautiful inspiration.  Episode 2: Water Worlds  reveals how underwater plants talk to one another.

My next blog is about The Beauty of Objects and how they inspire both writer and reader. I’ve invited my friend and exceptional writing coach Christine DeSmet to share some needed wisdom on objects in story.