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Mother Earth, I surrender |
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Tuesday, 01 March 2011 00:00 |
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Nina Barnes
Natural health and consciousness writer
No power, phone or internet and flooded in by The Mary, left me with cabin fever during the floods. I didn’t even realise that my body had gone into a severe stress response. Fear had taken hold of me. Later, watching the devastation on TV, the powerlessness I felt was indescribable. My foundations were rocked, my sense of safety in the world. Unconsciously, my family and I were feeding each other’s fears. Behaviour became really irrational.
This experience taught me to surrender and accept what is. Resistance was futile. As I let go of my perceived safety nets, I suddenly felt so alone. So unsafe. There’s nothing and no one I can rely on in this world. Then grief and a river of tears.
The floods forced me into flow. I’ve let go of trying to control anyone, and anything in my life. My mind fights to regain control, but I have a new level of awareness. During these uncertain times, ‘control’ leaves me exhausted. I am left only with love, and trust – trust that I am provided for, that I’m on the right path, that all is in divine perfect order. Thank you floods. I am free. |
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Tuesday, 01 March 2011 00:00 |
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Terry Bishop
Terry Bishop and Deb Drummond used to run the Worldview Centre, Queensland. These were letters written to his friends, describing what happened as a result of the deluge, and the joy that he felt after the community came together.
The deluge of rain from early December to the New Year (over 900mm / 36 inches) caused the world to move here at Worldview. The earth under the slab for the main house got so wet after five weeks of continuous rain that it turned into sloppy porridge and slumped down the hill. The result is that the slab broke in two, and part of the building (the main lounge and our bedroom) had to be demolished.
The up-side is that we have saved the kitchen and the guest bedroom wing, which means we still have a place to live (yay!). The workshop space is still intact and my engineer assures me the remaining buildings can be saved.
The up-rush of love in the form of service and care has been, at times, quite overwhelming. I’ve been challenged to learn how to receive so many gifts at all sorts of levels, including some folk who donated directly to us rather than to the general disaster appeals. The sense of community has been a true silver lining of an otherwise sad and broken moment.
So we no longer have the facilities to operate as a retreat centre, and have cancelled all future workshops. The Worldview Centre as it was is no more, having already begun a journey into whatever it will become next. We will not be involved in that new journey. Both Deb and I feel the event as a clear signal to let go and move on. We have been umming and ahhing for about two years on whether we would stay or go, and it seems clear to us both that circumstance has delivered a firm guiding hand to recreate ourselves in some new context. Besides, we have no cash to fix it... all we own is tied up in the centre. Neither of us has a clue what that new context might be, but we feel a tinge of excitement at the green field of possibilities just around the corner.
For those among you who have been so generous with your energy in support of Deb and I and this place, I offer gratitude beyond what words can say. Alone, what has happened would have been a disaster. With the deeply loving support of Deb, my family, my community, even my dogs, the disaster has become a font of blessings on so many levels.
From my future self, who has had the time to integrate the experience and harvest the lessons, I give thanks for the calamity, the blessings of love in action from so many, and for the hard-edged teachings about impermanence and non-attachment.
This letter follows the fund-raising event for Deb and Terry:
It’s hard to find words to express my gratitude for our benefit concert on Sunday... ‘Thank you!’ just isn’t enough. Perhaps, thank you for opening me through your relentless love and support.
It was a night to remember... a gathering of open-hearted souls giving generously of their spirit, their hearts, their effort, their time and their hard-earned cash. Deb and I were both drenched in loving kindness and soaked to the bones in generosity by the end of the evening. It was like bathing in liquid gold.
In one way, what happened last night had little to do with Deb or I... we were the catalysts for a whole bunch of beautiful people to come together in an open-hearted, loving way. The result was a field of energy that comes from an open heart, like generosity, compassion, love and joy. It seemed to me that everyone was much richer at the end of the night. What I saw, that feels like an enduring truth, is that those who give from the heart are not depleted by their giving, but quite the opposite. The more they gave, the more radiant they became. With so many people giving from such a true place, the radiance in the room was like the midday sun.
So we are still integrating... a 27 ton excavator arrived today to begin drainage work on the bench to try and stabilise what is still standing. His first task was to break up the four concrete water tanks to the east of the broken slab. The sheer power of the machine and it’s destructive force was enough to send both Deb and I into a bit of a state. We are both reminded that our emotional bodies take time to adjust and heal from big change like this.
The challenge is knowing when to be strong and push on through and when to just hold space for the part of us that needs to howl at the tragedy of it all.
That lesson is still in progress for me, and I reckon for Deb too.
Overall the gifts have outweighed the hardships of the deconstruction of Worldview by quite a bit. My deepest heart’s desire is to awaken, and this tragic story has helped me let go of tragic stories in general. It’s helped me know that I am not my stuff or my place, that I am not alone at many levels, and that a good life is lived from the heart. I learned emotional intelligence and adaptive thinking are great friends in turbulent times. Perhaps best of all, I have moments where I feel happy for no good reason at all.
Big love
Terry
Terry Bishop
Counsellor, workshop presenter, men’s wellbeing |
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We are the eye of the storm |
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Tuesday, 01 March 2011 00:00 |
Paula Polson
When tough things happen we humans tend to take comfort in theories of causation. Many of spiritual bent would say floods are some sort of cleansing ritual, needed by Mother Earth as a result of the ill-doings of mankind. Others might assume these floods are merely part of a cyclical weather pattern – la Niña. Yet another group might say all these extreme weather events are to do with the shifting of the poles, a forthcoming Armageddon, a punishment or wake-up call for humankind. Maybe the earth is over-populated and trying to shake some of us off? Maybe the Illuminati have been controlling the weather? Perhaps the chaos of our minds is being mirrored without?
The truth is: we do not know. Humankind is so tiny, perched here upon this planet in the vast darkness of a spinning galaxy. All we really know is we are here, and our experiences seem real enough to us to make them matter. Seeming to be so completely at the mercy of events, we feel the need for some control. We assign labels, meaning and causation. We put our faith and hope into scientific endeavour, equations and shallow logic. Facts are piled upon facts, never seeing that the bottom layer of the house of cards may be faulty, and, when occurrences give rise to fury and grief, we seek a culprit and assign blame. There! Now it’s fixed!
We really know only one thing. We are. We are here and we are. The rest is a pile of concepts formed by desperation, and apt to be unseated in unholy fashion by life eventually. Those who throughout history have been able to live purely and in harmony with life seem to have discovered that our real nature is love, not control, that life is a moving feast of change, and that, when we are pure being, we respond perfectly in the moment, without the need for equations or logic – and we retain equanimity without the need for blame.
The eye of the storm is us. We are the unchanging within the changing – and we are all one.
Let us observe all these events, realising that they have no effect on the unchanging centre of our beings, though they might well throw the periphery around. Let us help each other get through them and not waste too much energy on theories and blame. We do not know what else is to come, nor can we control it, but we can be true to ourselves, and aware that, whether we live or die, lose houses or loved ones, at heart we never change – we are intrinsically love.
Paula Polson
Feng shui, geomancy and energy clearing |
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Fix the roof while it’s sunny! |
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Tuesday, 01 March 2011 00:00 |
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Marlyse Carroll
Co-principal, Inner Peace Institute for Wellbeing
We got flooded last week. Again. For the second time in six weeks, and the third time in six years – and no, we don’t live in Queensland or in any other low-lying area of this land. Our house is situated on a hill! Yet, as Michael and I stepped out of bed last Friday morning, we found ourselves sloshing around in about 3cm of water. The carpets had already absorbed all the water they could hold, and a steady tide kept advancing towards the living areas.
In an instant, I felt closer than ever to the thousands of unfortunate people who were facing much worse situations. My heart opened to them in new ways – and I was grateful for clean rainwater rather than mud.
I also realised that what took place in our house, as well as theirs, is a great metaphor for personal relationships, because, at times, unexpected crises happen in sound relationships as well as they do in solid houses. We may believe that we’ve built something strong enough to keep storms out. We feel safe, protected, secure. We might even be smug enough to think that we’re immune from crises.
I remember saying at some stage, “I don’t do dramas any longer”. How delusional was that? And one morning we wake up to a different reality, as I did last week. Yes, shift does happen!
For us, after days of torrential rains, water found its way in between external and internal walls until plasterboards just couldn’t contain the invisible tide any longer. The pressure grew too strong. So water suddenly gushed in through every weak spot it could find.
Michael started drilling holes through the external walls, which proved helpful. As for me, while mopping up in a frenzy, I remembered a saying attributed to John F. Kennedy. He said, “The best time to fix the roof is while it’s sunny!” What a great piece of advice. Commonsense for a physical house – but what about in relationships?
How often do we address causes of discord while the going is good? Most of us don’t. Instead, we stifle emotional rumblings with distractions. We repress disturbing thoughts with extra food, sex, drugs or alcohol. It’s so easy, isn’t it? Or we work extra hard to silence warning signals, and ignore mild physical symptoms of dis-ease. I know I’m good at that.
Suddenly things get worse. Hitting us out of the blue – or so it seems – we get caught in the midst of an emotional storm, either internally or with a partner, and, for most of us, this state of crisis becomes the trigger to addressing our underlying issues. What terrible timing!
Metaphorically speaking, attempting to resolve relationship issues in the midst of a wild argument is similar to unscrewing sheets of roofing, or removing tiles, while the storm is raging – plain madness. Not only does it make things worse, it’s also dangerous to those involved. Yet, this is what most of us do in relationships. We ‘open up’ difficult subjects when we’re at our most vulnerable or our most aggressive. However, we all know that when we’re blinded by grief or rage, perceptions become distorted. Awareness turns foggy. Responses are irrational. So why fight our way through a torrential emotional storm? What good can we possibly achieve in such a state of mind? Not only do we risk receiving and inflicting personal injuries, we’re also likely to permanently damage what we want to improve – the relationship itself.
What else can I say but paraphrase JFK? “If your inner house is leaky, fix it while it’s sunny.”
In your relationship, muster the courage to bring up disturbing subjects when things are going well. Address your intimate issues when you are both feeling open and loving. In my experience, broaching the subject in a business-like manner is the easiest starting point. So ask your partner for an appointment. Tell them up-front what’s on your agenda and, together, choose a time and place that are conducive for rational discussion – not when you’re both exhausted, and definitely not in bed! Have a strong intention to resolve your issue in a win/win way and within an allocated time-frame. If you both hold these intentions, chances are you’ll succeed. Then stick to every part of your plan – intention, subject, place, time and timeframe. Sometimes it’s tempting to ‘forget’ the appointment or postpone the discussion. So be brave and do it!
You’ll be well rewarded for your courage. The sun will feel warmer and your inner landscape will look brighter than ever. Enjoy it while it lasts, because you know what happens next, don’t you? On this plane, nothing is permanent – so you’ll find out soon enough if your ‘roof’ is truly fixed.
Now that I’ve just finished writing this article – or so I thought! – here’s the kicker! Just now, Michael has discovered that our roof is fine, thank you very much. It was never part of the problem! Our house got flooded from the ground up, through an electrical conduit that collected water up the road and became a gushing fountainhead in between walls.
Ah well… another metaphor for relationships! Sometimes we spend time and effort trying to fix something that works perfectly. In the meantime, a well-hidden underground culprit enjoys free range. This is life, isn’t it?
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