Author: Joanna van der Hoeven

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Expectations…

It’s so hard to let go of our expectations of other people.  If, like me, you would do anything for your friends, it would seem likely that you would expect the same in return.  And yet, I’m looking more and more into letting go of expectations of other people – and in doing so, not being let down quite so much.

You might ask – what is the problem with setting high standards, or any standards, for people?  Shouldn’t  we all have people in our lives that we can rely on?

The answer that I’m pondering, is “no.”

This is not the say that I’m going to be 100% self-reliant – that’s impossible. It doesn’t necessarily mean cutting people out of my life. What it does mean is that I cannot expect people to be there for me.  It’s far too easy for me to fall into despair, for giving someone all I can and not “getting” anything in return.  I still view a relationship as a give and take scenario – but I also see the dangers inherent in any duality. So I’m trying to adopt a different worldview.  A few friends have let me down recently – but after much thinking on just who the self is, I’m also wondering just “who” is this person that they’re letting down?

If we view the self as a myriad of thoughts that we have retained, thoughts that we think pertain to this body, this behaviour, this person, then who exactly are we? Thoughts are not reality – and they change all the time.  What if our view of the self is only those thoughts that are the loudest, that we have repeated to ourselves over and over again until we believe them?  How limiting is that – and how free could we be if we drop the idea of a self?

But I digress.

Should we expect people to help us, friends to help us, in our time of need? Sometimes they just can’t, as they are dealing with their own battles. Sometimes they are just crap. Either way, they are simply being themselves, and that we cannot control that in any way.  If we dropped our expectations that they will be there for us when we need them, then we will also avoid disappointment.

This may seem a little nihilistic, but only in obliterating these assumptions can we attain the freedom and open the door to possible happiness.  Sometimes breaking down walls – a little deconstruction- is a good thing.  The question remains, however – if we do not expect things from people, what happens to our standards?

We won’t have any.

Yikes. I know – it’s a scary thought. But who are we to have such standards? Who is this self that sets standards for other people? If we don’t have standards, will people then walk all over us? Of course not. Not having standards doesn’t mean we become doormats. It simply means we have dropped all judgement of others and take things as they come.  We will not be disappointed anymore.  Isn’t that a good thing? And, if people do mistreat us, we then simply walk away. Without judgement, if possible (though highly improbable – I’m not that enlightened).

There are, of course, limits to this. In work relationships, we do have to expect certain things of our co-workers if we need them to get the job done.  But in our personal and private lives, we can let this go and see what happens.

What about our partners? Should I expect anything of my husband? No, not really.  I’ve had the joy of always having a husband who is “there” for me, but if I did “need” him and he wasn’t, I’d be devastated. Unless I adopt this new strategy.  This doesn’t make me an “island” – I am not cutting myself off from everyone – rather the opposite. I am engaging in non-judgemental behaviour that brings me closer to everything and everyone. Interesting.

Perhaps even harder than giving up the expectations of other people, is giving up expectations of yourself.  We believe we are a certain person, that we should react and behave in a certain way. I know that this weekend, when dealing with a car accident, I was shocked at my unwillingness to walk towards a smoking vehicle and help people out – fear and horror making each step leaden as I went towards the smoking ruin.  I expected myself to be able to jump out of the car and run heroically to save people, and was shocked at my initial response. Needless to say, of course I did go to the car and help, but I learned that I was not as brave as I thought I was.

Also, the accident was caused by an oncoming police car responding to an emergency call.  I went to the aid of the car that they hit (which was right in front of us) but didn’t go to the police car afterwards to see if they were okay.  I saw one officer come out, and then returned my attention to the “victims”.  It had been the police car’s fault – I made a judgement call. I expected them to know better than to overtake with no room – and then expected them to help out with the other victims when they came out of the car, having had all the proper training.  I should have had compassion for them as well – they had just been in a horrible accident as well, and were the cause. How awful they must feel. Even if they didn’t react “properly”, whatever that is, I should have tried to help them as well. So I’ve been beating myself up about that too.  I have such high expectations of myself.  Drop them, Jo. There is so self, remember? Just a collection of thoughts and judgements.  Drop the expectations and life will contain much less suffering.

I’m going to give it a go.  It’s going to be bloody hard. You can wish me luck, but I’m not expecting you to 😉

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Fascist Compassion

A recent problem with someone I know led me to explore the nature of compassion more fully, with an eye to not being a doormat – ie. where does compassion end and walking all over someone begin? Can we keep that line intact, or should we constantly give of ourselves – is there a line at all?  No one wants to be hurt, though some people do seem to enjoy their suffering.  And so, it led me to an article from the Dalai Lama entitled “Compassion and the Individual”. (http://www.fpmt.org/teachers/hhdl/teachings/713-compassion-and-the-individual.html)

We are a people that can become obsessed with retribution – like for like, an eye for an eye.  But this compulsion for retaliation is entirely based on a selfish desire, more often than not to “save face”.  We are protecting our image of our Self, and yet, just who are we? Who is this Self that we are protecting? Is it an unchanging, immutable force or does it flow like a river around rocks and bends?

What are we really losing when we let go of anger and hate? This is the question that kind of turned things around for me. Yes, I could be angry that this person who hurt me several times, no matter what I did. Or, I could adopt the Zen attitude and get on with it. Throw a little Buddhist compassion in there and learn something from it as well.

In his essay, the Dalai Lama wrote:-

“You should realize that even though your opponents appear to be harming you, in the end, their destructive activity will damage only themselves. In order to check your own selfish impulse to retaliate, you should recall your desire to practice compassion and assume responsibility for helping prevent the other person from suffering the consequences of his or her acts. Thus, because the measures you employ have been calmly chosen, they will be more effective, more accurate and more forceful. Retaliation based on the blind energy of anger seldom hits the target.”

We do not have any control over external influences on our lives, heck, we have little control over ourselves most of the time. But what we can control, to the best of our abilities, is our reactions to certain events.  When we release anger and hate we also release the energy that they give us, which can be tremendous, but which seldom, if ever, does any good. What the Dalai Lama explained was that the energy that comes from compassion is much more controlled, and thus can benefit the world at large.

But what about being taken advantage of, I thought? I certainly didn’t want to be a doormat again, hurt once again by this person.  To this point, in the essay he states:

“It is possible, however, to develop an equally forceful but far more controlled energy with which to handle difficult situations. This controlled energy comes not only from a compassionate attitude, but also from reason and patience. These are the most powerful antidotes to anger. Unfortunately, many people misjudge these qualities as signs of weakness. I believe the opposite to be true: that they are the true signs of inner strength. Compassion is by nature gentle, peaceful and soft, but it is also very powerful. It is those who easily lose their patience who are insecure and unstable. Thus, to me, the arousal of anger is a direct sign of weakness.”

Now, it had never occurred to me to think of anger and hatred as a sign of weakness, for they are the showy emotions, the ones that scare and provoke, that snap people to attention much more quickly than a mild-mannered, compassionate soul.  But look a little deeper and what he is saying makes sense.  To just be able to maintain one’s self-control is an enormous task – the red-rager inside us is all too easily willing to come out (see Brian Froud’s Good Faeries, Bad Faeries book for the Red Rager).

So how do we not become doormats? The Dalai Lama says:-

“[w]hen a problem first arises, try to remain humble and maintain a sincere attitude and be concerned that the outcome is fair. Of course, others may try to take advantage of you, and if your remaining detached only encourages unjust aggression, adopt a strong stand. This, however, should be done with compassion, and if it is necessary to express your views and take strong countermeasures, do so without anger or ill-intent.”

The key to not being a doormat is to adopt a kind of fascist compassion.  We should also be grateful for those who challenge us in our lives, so that we can become better people.  While I am still having trouble with this one, I can see the sense in it.  When we realise that anger and hatred are the real enemies, and not the people challenging us day in and day out, the perspective shifts.

The most challenging part of this essay is this:- “Ultimately, humanity is one and this small planet is our only home. If we are to protect this home of ours, each of us needs to experience a vivid sense of universal altruism. It is only this feeling that can remove the self-centered motives that cause people to deceive and misuse one another. If you have a sincere and open heart, you naturally feel self-worth and confidence, and there is no need to be fearful of others.”

I’ve yet to meet an altruistic human being, or any other altruistic being for that matter (I’m sure some, like the Dalai Lama, Buddha or Mother Theresa come close). Our own need for survival may, indeed, counter any altruistic tendencies that we may aspire to. That doesn’t mean that we can’t try, however.  It is a good thing to remove self-centred motives, for sure. Having a sincere and open heart is most difficult though – for we’ve been hurt, again and again, seeing the cycle being repeated in a future that doesn’t even exist, or reflected in a past that we can no longer reach. Can we honestly say that we will never be fearful of others?

Perhaps, one day. Until then, I will take my compassion one day at a time, as well as a strong stance against those who have hurt me to ensure that it won’t happen again. These two things are not at odds with each other, as I once thought.  Fascist Compassion. I like it.

 

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This is a wonderful piece by Nimue on taking the time, and experiencing the wonder each and every time…

Nimue Brown's avatarDruid Life

There are those who come into the hides quietly, with an air of reverence about them. They sit, wait, watch, open to a miracle that is some flash of wildlife, some unexpected vision. Then there are those who wander in, look round, see nothing and leave. Some bring children and encourage that same reverence in them, others bring children and let them shout and run about. All of the behaviour I’ve seen in hides, I have also seen in cathedrals and at stone circles.

Most people are tourists. They come to look, but don’t really know what they’re looking for. When you’re in a hide, the odds of walking in and seeing something exciting in the first thirty seconds are slim. It happened to me once with a badger, though. The tourist mentality seeks a quick thrill, a low effort moment of being entertained, and often it leaves, disappointed, complaining…

View original post 341 more words

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This moment, now…

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire — in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom? – Lord Byron

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Beautiful Moon

I think I may have shared this story before, but recent events have brought it back to mind, and have taught me another valuable life lesson…

A Zen Master lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening, while he was away, a thief sneaked into the hut only to find there was nothing in it to steal. The Zen Master returned and found him. “You have come a long way to visit me,” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.” The thief was bewildered, but he took the clothes and ran away. The Master sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow,” he mused, ” I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”

Whilst on the train back from London the other week, a young man tried to steal my shopping bag and book.  When I caught him, I yelled at him. He, in turn, yelled back – I can only assume being afraid that he had been caught and going on the defensive, and then retaliating by being aggressive. No one on the train helped in any way.  Had I not yelled at him, the outcome might have been completely different.  Then again, it might not have been.

Had I remained calm, and simply stated calmly “That’s my stuff” perhaps he would have simply returned it without the ensuing shouting match, elevated heart rate and fear of attack that came on.  Should I have simply acted calmly and with compassion? Most likely. Instead, I acted out of anger – this man was stealing my stuff, which I had spent my hard-earned cash on.  Who did he think he was? Anger at someone’s hands on my belongings simply enraged me. And yet, the Zennist would simply reply “Who is this Me?”

If we are all connected, then shouting at him would simply be shouting at myself.  Ridiculous.  This doesn’t mean that those following Zen or Druidry should be doormats – in no way, shape or form does this apply.  It simply means that there are many ways to deal with a situation that involve both compassion and empathy for all involved.  I do not know why he was stealing my things. I can never know why. But he felt a need to. I did not need to respond out of anger.

I was able to let it go, after only a few short hours.  Testament to practice with both Druidry and Zen meditation.  But still, the reaction could have been better in the first place. Of course, there was no way I was going to give him my stuff (I’m SO not there yet) but I should have wanted to give him the moon, at the very least.  It was a wake-up call, that you can talk about how to react to a situation until you are blue in the face, but only when faced with the realities of a situation does the “practice what you preach” come to the fore.

It was a humbling moment.  Anger is found all too easily.  It is a good cover for other emotions and problems in our lives.  Time to return to my core, which is that which is shared between us all.

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Concentration

Concentration is such an important part of both Druid and Zen practice.  Some people have the natural ability to concentrate for long periods of time, others are always being distracted by any number of stimuli, from their own thoughts to external sounds and sights.  In order to get anything done simply, efficiently and will full awareness, we need to develop our concentration.  Meditation goes a long way in helping us to begin the process of learning to concentrate.

There are few times in our easy lives today where if we don’t concentrate, Very Bad Things will happen.  Even times such as driving a car can be done without full concentration – though that is also the cause of most accidents.  How many situations can you think of in your life where, if you don’t concentrate, you will die?

In the natural world, concentration is what keeps most things alive.  The fox, intent on the pheasant, excludes all other distractions to hunt the bird down and fill his belly. He might otherwise starve if he does not have this level of concentration.  The hawk, looking for the starling, the cat and mouse, the deer who is always alert to her environment for her own safety and protection – all of these creatures live with heightened levels of concentration and awareness.  As a Druid, I look to nature for inspiration and examples on how I too can live my life in full awareness.

A lot of people don’t think that you require high levels of concentration for the smaller tasks.  Washing dishes is a great example.  It’s something that most of us have had to do at some point in our lives, and it is a chore.  Looking up the word chore, I came across two definitions;  1 – a small routine task, especially  a domestic one, and 2 – an unpleasant task.  How different are those two definitions?

The first simply states what a chore is. The second makes a judgement call on it.  In order to concentrate, we have to leave judgement calls out of our tasks, otherwise we risk becoming embroiled in our thoughts, getting them all tangled up again and losing our focus on the task at hand.  While I went to the office kitchen to wash my mug today, I found I couldn’t wash my mug, as the sink was full of other people’s mugs.  We have, like many other offices around the world, signs everywhere asking people to wash up after themselves, with varying degrees of humour.  My first reaction was annoyance that other people were such pigs – then I caught myself. I was making a judgement call.  What would happen if I simply got on and washed up all the mugs, along with my own? What if I adopted the principles of Zen and non-attachment?

The answer was a very pleasant experience.  Taking all the mugs out and refilling the tub with warm, soapy water, I honed my concentration in and picked up a mug, putting it into the water and washing it thoroughly. I paid special attention to the task, and it was so much more enjoyable.  The feeling of the warm water on my hands was lovely – it was like having a mini-bath for my hands to relax in in the middle of the day.  I then caught myself again, as I found I was attaching to how lovely the experience was.  I should simply experience it and not make judgement calls, otherwise I could get lost in my thoughts and lose concentration.

So I kept at it.  I still enjoyed the warm water and the time away from my desk, and the end result was a clean kitchen with my own mug nice and washed up as well.  It was a much better experience than the usual “Sigh. Looks like I’ve got to do this. Again.”  With each mug, there was no thought on how awful other people are, leaving their dirty work for others.  Lipstick on one mug – no thought or judgement on that, simply something to wash.  When I did find myself wandering in my thoughts, I brought myself back, and noticed that the bowl I had just “cleaned” was, in fact, still dirty.  Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate.

When we let go of the concept of “menial” tasks, everything becomes special and worthy of concentration.  Taking it even further, listening to your child, driving your car, writing your book, making love, stroking the cat – all of these gain more significance because you have devoted your concentration to them, and by doing so, establishing a better relationship with the world around you.

Druidry is all about relationship.  It’s hard to have a relationship with someone who isn’t paying attention to you, who is ignoring you or thinking about other things when you are engaging with them.  So we should try and devote our levels of concentration to every task that we can think of, in order to make all relationships special.  Our lives will become more fulfilled, and dare I say it – even rewarding (though rewards are NOT the goals in life, living is the goal to life).

Taking concentration to even the “smallest” of tasks means that we will be better equipped when we attempt the “larger” ones, such as Druid ritual.  However we may celebrate, the main point behind Druid ritual is intention.  If we lose concentration, our intention can easily become lost, or twisted, our relationship faltering.  Intention is described as “an act or instance of determining mentally upon some action or result” (from an online dictionary).  Our mental faculties must be honed in order for the action or result to be successful, or meaningful in some way.  We can determine mentally upon some action, but unless we apply concentration, that result may not be what we would wish for.

With ritual, whether we are celebrating the seasons, or healing a friend, honouring an accomplishment or singing back to the land, it is our intention combined with our concentration that makes what we are doing both special, and not so special.  This may sound like a contradiction – well, it is and it isn’t!

If we apply high levels of concentration to everything we do, we make everything “special” in some way. If we carry this all the way to Druid ritual, we find that ritual is both something special and nothing special at all – it is a time that we set aside for a certain purpose, devoting ourselves to the moment, which can seem special, yet by carrying our intention through all that we do in our lives, ritual becomes a part of our lives that is as important as, say, washing the dishes.  The mundane becomes sacred, and we see the awen in everything.

 

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Welcome, Autumn

Autumn – thanks be to all the gods that it is here.  I don’t usually write very personal posts, but at this time of year a little introspection seems appropriate.

After a physically and emotionally exhausting summer, the cool autumn days are a welcome relief.  Time to step out of the burning light and into the gentler, calmer times.  Having worked hard all summer, it is now time to reap the rewards, in the hopes of a successful harvest.  With the autumn equinox on the 22nd, that special time of balance, where everything hovers with hushed breath as the season turns towards the dark half of the year – it is these changing times that are the most powerful for me.  I stand, on the edge, waiting to either jump, topple over or be pushed into change…

It is a time for coming back to “place” – which for me is home, my environment.  Having spent the summer going all over this country and others, visiting friends and family, going to events, festivals, etc, the return to home where I can simply sit and enjoy the walls around me, or my garden and the beech tree outside, or the heathland and deer, the rocky shingle beach on the east coast – these things become all the more important.  I now have time.  I can see it stretching out lazily in front of me – not to be taken for granted, but to be enjoyed in silence, time to heal, to return.  After a couple of health scares, a physically demanding summer and emotional turmoil, autumn reaches out a hand and urges me to lie on the cool grass and watch as the leaves fall gently around me, a fresh north wind breeze upon my skin as the clouds drift with dignity in a bright blue sky.

I look forward to buying a fresh supply of firewood for the winter this weekend, to enjoy long, dark evenings in with my husband and cats, or in the simple pleasure of my own company in the silence that the coming winter brings.  I look forward to spending more time with my husband, whom I’ve barely seen this summer – I look forward to falling in love with him all over again.  Baking apple crisp and bread, muffins and cookies, having time to make proper home-cooked meals, brewing my own port and mead.  Getting to know my garden again.

Welcome autumn.  It is time to rest now.  Time to close my eyes, and dream it all up again.