RITUAL AND DIRECTIONS

Sometimes I perform ritual during spiritual work. Ritual is a tangible means for me to express gratitude and to set the process of manifestation into motion.

I know there is limitless debate on what ritual actually invokes. Some believe ritual solicits spiritual powers, while others believe ritual does nothing more than clearly set objectives in the mind that are carried out through the body by purely physical means.

That’s a debate from which I abstain. I have my beliefs, but regardless of the “true” mechanism that manifests ideas into reality, the process still works.

I mean, you don’t need to understand how a combustion engine works in order to drive a car. All you need know is how to operate the controls and to feed it gas and oil when it requires.

It’s the same with manifesting ideas into reality. I don’t have to know whether it happens due to some spiritual influence, a purely physical “cause and effect” relationship, or by some interaction between the two. All I have to do is use the “controls” to elicit the desired effect.

To begin my rituals, I first bow to the seven directions. Some claim there are four directions, but I believe there are seven.

I light candles, face each appropriate direction, and recite some words as I bow. It goes something like this:

I bow to the east, the direction of the rising sun. This is the direction of new beginnings. I seek to initiate a new beginning to provide focus for my actions.

I bow to the south, the direction of warmth. This is the direction of love. I seek loving kindness to influence all I do.

I bow to the west, the direction of the setting sun. This is the direction of endings. I seek an end to the disharmony troubling my soul. This ending opens space for the new beginning from the east to manifest.

I bow to the north, the direction of cold. This is the direction of logic and understanding. Logic and understanding, tempered by love from the south, merge to create wisdom. I seek wisdom to navigate my new beginning into a worthwhile endeavor.

I bow to the above, the direction of the limitless sky. This is the direction of the divine. I seek divine guidance as I exercise my gained wisdom while treading my new beginning.

I bow to the below, the direction of earth. This is the direction upon which my human existence unfolds. Upon this physical plane I utilize divine guidance sent down from above to proceed with my life in a harmonious way.

I bow to the within, the direction of inner soul. This is the space where all influences – physical, spiritual, and mental – combine and manifest into action that which propels my being forward to traverse my path among all creation.

Each element composing every pair of opposite directions (east/west, south/north, and above/below) complements its counterpart to create a third component from their union. These third components provide necessary forces. From the west and east, endings make ways for new beginnings which manifest into the future. From the south and north, love tempers logic to form wisdom. From the above and below, divine guidance influences human events, providing a basis to advance human choices.

Finally, the direction of the within is where they all combine to direct the total being toward its ultimate growth. This is the space where all interaction occurs. It resides in the now. It is our mind, our subconscious. It is our direct link to the rest of creation. It is the only space where we conceive our actions.

Ritual is my way for keeping the wheels of my life spinning and the cogs meshing together.

NIGHT FLIGHT

I was flying last night — in my dreams.

Do you ever do that? Fly, I mean, in your dreams.

I don’t do it often, but it’s such a treat when I do. I feel so free, so light, without any cares to weigh me down.

I usually don’t remember all the details leading up to the flying, but sometimes I do. I might be just walking down a street, usually the street I grew up on, and decide it’s time to take flight.

Often, elm trees surround me. I pass wavering limbs rippling with verdant green leaves. The airy feeling enveloping me as I ascend washes me clean of any lingering doubt. I float upward in bliss.

Actually I don’t just float away. I have to jump up with my feet and start scooping the air with my arms. It’s sort of like I’m kicking off in a pool to swim. I push off the ground, paddle my arms in a circular motion, and scissor my legs.

At first I move slowly, feeling the resistance of gravity, but soon enough I gain momentum. Each whooshing sweep of my arms takes me higher with less effort.

As I reach the rooflines, I see an array of multicolored shingles. They lay atop houses filled with families going about their busy days, oblivious to my airborne escapades.

Continuing vertically, I view the city. The grid-work of crisscrossing streets, bustling with the motion of traffic, is lined with houses, stores, buildings, and parking lots.

I see a park to the north. Its tree-cover is punctuated with patches of open grass, ripe for picnics or a leisurely Sunday afternoon game of volleyball. A stream winds through the park, hosting ducks upon its water. Its banks alight with frolicking children. They’re supervised by parents, themselves engaged in animated conversation with each other.

Once I reach a high enough altitude, I veer sideways and “swim” horizontally. At this stage, I start soaring, gliding on updrafts. I take off my ponytail holder, letting the breeze fill my brown locks of hair as they trail behind. The sun warms my face and wind blows through my hair, enhancing my euphoria.

The folds of my clothes flutter and snap. I stroke the air in my swimming motion and view all of creation from my lofty trajectory. Continents pass below like islands. Land always gives way to ocean. The rippling waves glisten and sheen with the reflection of our sun’s brilliant fire.

Passing around the globe, I decide whether to make another lap or approach for a landing. Deciding to land, I begin my descent. Lowering through billowy white clouds fogging the view around me, I breathe in their moist vapor, and emerge below their wispy puffs. Wrapped in a few straggling tendrils, I again feel dew cling to my face and drip from my tingling chin.

The city comes into view. Lowering my head, I fly toward my neighborhood and the canopy of elm trees bordering the street. As I approach, I rotate my head up, waving my arms as if I’m treading water. I softly touch down on my tiptoes, then flatten my feet to feel the firm earth steadying my balance. Looking around, I see all is right with the world. I resume my walk.

At this point I usually wake up. After saying my morning prayer, I rise. Then I fly through the rest of my day.

PARING EACH PAIR

There’s duality afoot!

Everywhere you look, things are paired – day/night, flora/fauna, male/female. And they each depend on the other for existence.

Day is only day because night exists to provide contrast. Flora depends upon bees for pollination and animals to eat its fruit. The animals carry seeds to distant locations by dropping them in excrement. Of course, fauna directly depends upon flora for food. Even carnivores depend upon plants because omnivores provide necessary links in their food chain.

Male/female, now there’s a good one. While a portion of the population prefers pairing within their own gender, most creatures (both human and nonhuman) pair with a member of the opposite sex. Face it, without procreation between males and females, most species would become extinct. But, there must be something more to it than mere propagation of the species for humans.

Many books have been written and theories abound about the differences between men and women. Most of the stereotypes are true in a general sense. But, on a person by person basis, much crossover occurs.

For example, women are generally more prone to being cooperative. But I’ve met some who forego cooperation to such an extreme it brings them detriment. Plus there are men whose entire lives revolve around cooperation, like Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Men are generally logical and less prone to emotional swings, but I’ve met several men who exert about as much logic as a flea. Moreover, there’s an abundance of women who occupy roles in every field where logic is crucial — doctors, lawyers, scientists, astronauts; the list goes on. And as far as emotional swings, I have first-hand experience with every emotion known to humankind. Some say I wear my heart on my sleeve.

Men are typically more athletic, but I know several women who can literally run circles or kayak rings around their male counterparts.

Women are thought to be better at child rearing, but not all women personify the “motherly type.” There are also many “Mr. Moms” who compassionately tend to their children’s needs.

Yes, generalities are useful in helping determine overall strategies, but individually we are a unique blend of all the characteristics known to humans. I haven’t seen a completely unique trait totally owned by one person only. But the mix of characteristics making up each one of us is unique.

It’s trying to mesh our own unique blend with another that creates the fascination. When we “pair” with another person, we find similar characteristics. In fact, it’s often similarities that first draw us together. We meet at events or doing hobbies which we mutually enjoy. But after that initial meeting, we begin exploring the depths of where we connect in similarity and where we cross in opposition.

Again, that’s duality. That’s what keeps the spark of interest alive. It’s a challenge to satisfy our need for being with someone we relate to, while finding inspiration to experience new things outside our scope of familiarity. We pare out what we can accept from what we find intolerable, and then we find a way to juggle them into a workable balance.

People thrive on challenges. We’re drawn to puzzles. We’re compelled to fit things together into patterns that make sense.

There is duality afoot, but we have plenty of opportunity at hand to strike a balance.

EVERY MOMENT

We had a test one day in my Calculus 3 class in college. The instructor was a young fellow from India who’d I’d become friends with. He was a peaceful man, enthusiastic, polite, and genuinely concerned with the welfare of his students. In fact, I’d seen him many times outside of class and he always acted respectful toward everyone he met — other professors, students, maintenance workers, children — everyone.

He passed out the test and announced, “If anyone has a question, raise your hand and I will come to you.”

Well, back then I used to be a smart ass (now I’m just facetious). So, not wasting an opportunity for mayhem, I raised my hand. He walked over, eager to be of service to me.

When he approached, I grinned and asked, “What is the meaning of life?”

Without batting an eye or losing his demeanor of service, he calmly replied, “To live every moment to its fullest.”

I’m sure my mouth dropped as I gaped at him. It doesn’t happen often, but that was one of the times in my life I was speechless.

With a twinkle of playfulness in his eye, the kind a wise master has when he’s just astonished his student, he walked away, letting my mind absorb the treasure he’d just bestowed upon me.

I pondered his simple statement for a long, long time. Actually, I’m still pondering it today. I tried in vain to find fault with it. I searched every word, every syllable, seeking a flaw in his logic. But, even after 25 years, I can find none.

It’s funny how when confronted with something outside our sphere of understanding, we immediately try to dismiss it as error. Fear of the unknown is a powerful handicap we burden ourselves with. Looking at things judgmentally requires expending a lot of wasted energy.

If instead, we consider new possibilities without egotistical judgment, truths reveal themselves much more quickly, with less effort and confusion. We need only approach it “like the little children” (as discussed in yesterday’s post).

Living every moment to it’s fullest ensures that each nanosecond of our lives is filled with richness. It guarantees a fulfilled life of satisfaction. It leaves no room for misery, fear, or self-conscious doubt.

How do we live every moment to its fullest? Many people believe it requires participating in elaborate events that thrill the senses. While this is exciting, what does it leave behind after the event is over? Others seek lavish surroundings to immerse themselves in luxury. But, when deprived of that luxury, all it leaves is the emptiness of longing.

Providing service to others is what makes my life full. Being useful creates purpose. Feeling that my interaction with others serves a purpose gives my life meaning. Endowed with meaning, I enjoy a sense of satisfaction. I am grateful for touching the world and knowing my touch is received in appreciation. That fills my cup to the brim.

In calculus, the goal is to find the area under a curve. In life, the goal is to find the fullness under the arc of our speeding lives.

JUDGE, JURY, AND JAILER

“Hi! What are you watching?”

“Nothing.”

“But there’s a show on the TV and you’re looking at it.”

“Yeah, but it sucks!”

“Then why watch it?”

“It’s the only thing on.”

Have you ever been involved in a similar conversation? Or worse yet, been the one who’s watching the show that sucks?

With the proliferation of cable and satellite television, now having hundreds of channels to choose from, the logic of “it’s the only thing on” loses its power — not that it ever had much power to begin with.

If the show really sucks, then find another one or – here’s a concept – shut it off! As far as I know, it’s not a crime to turn off the television. There are other activities to engage in.

This exemplifies how we self-limit ourselves. We adopt a notion, like it’s time to watch TV, then we voluntarily impose that choice upon ourselves as a decree of law. Once bound to self-limits, we construct false barriers limiting us even further.

We live in a jail, plus we’re our own jailers. On top of that, we’re also our own judge, defending attorney, prosecutor, and jury.

The scenario above is a lot like opening up the refrigerator, chock full of food, but closing it to scan the overflowing shelves of our pantries, and then declaring, “There’s nothing to eat.”

Again, it’s a self-imposed limit. Evidently there’s something specific creating our hunger, but we don’t see that exact item. Hence, we fail to muster enthusiasm for any of the other available choices.

We substitute what we don’t have for what we do have.

What’s worse is if we buy what we crave, but then find the reality of having it doesn’t match the excitement we generated when desiring it.

We do things like that a lot. It’s this phenomenon that spawned the saying, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”

We’re here, but we’d rather be there. We chose the blue one, but we’d rather have the red one. We said “no,” when we really meant “yes.”

What is this internal conflict haunting us like a troubled spirit clanging its chains every time we nestle comfortably in bed?

It’s simply “judgment.” We weren’t born being judgmental. We learned it.

As small children, we had no problem whatsoever engaging in activities that captured our interest, sparked our creativity, and unlocked our imagination. We just did things and they were perfect. But then, someone imposed their judgment upon us, probably a parent or other family member. Being bigger and in authority, we submitted to their power. The experience introduced us to a new facet of the human psyche — “doubt.” We started doubting our capability. We learned to become judgmental.

Certainly we needed guidance to channel our youthful energy into productive venues, but we didn’t need to lose faith in our capability. We began constructing imaginary walls around every choice. We started limiting our options.

It’s time to tear down those walls of air. Next time you feel trapped between two choices, force yourself to imagine a third. Understand that possibility abounds. It’s only limited by our ability to imagine. Set the imagination free. Let it paint pictures of hope upon our subconscious. There within the realm of the subconscious, all possibility manifests into real opportunities upon which we can act.

So, if the program you’re watching sucks, shut it off. Tune into the greater reality existing outside the jail you’ve sentenced yourself to.

WONDER BRUISE

I’m tracking a bruise under my thumbnail. It started at the base of the nail and is slowly working its way up toward the tip of my thumb. Each day it creeps further along.

I don’t know how it happened. Most likely, something hit my thumb and formed the bruise. But whatever it was, it didn’t hurt when it happened.

The bruise is sort of round, about the size between a shoelace hole and a pencil eraser. Its variegated reddish-brown color is lighter in the center and darker at the edges.

It’s so cool watching the bruise move! I’ve derived a great deal of amusement from it this past week. In that time it’s traveled about 3/8 of an inch and has less than 1/8 to go before hitting the tip of my nail.

I’m anxious to see what happens when it gets to the end. So, I bit off some of the nail. That slightly lessens the extent the bruise has to travel. It doesn’t change the length of my nail substantially, but at least I’m contributing in a useful way.

I feel like a scientist conducting an experiment. My careful observations and the resulting knowledge may be useful in answering hypotheses puzzling humankind since time immemorial. I’m on the brink of a discovery so powerful, so magnificent, and so comprehensive it could provide the last link in making the “theory of everything” fall into place!

I can envision myself now heading to Stockholm to pick up my Nobel Prize in Physics. I see physicists across the globe bowing in honor to my patience, dedication, and superior skills in deductive reasoning. Statues will be erected in tribute to my accomplishment. Libraries will be dedicated to me. I might even get my own postage stamp!

It’s also been fun explaining to people who ask how the bruise occurred. Since I don’t know how I got it, I just make something up on the spot. I told one friend a rhinoceros was charging me. I threw up my hands to cover my face as the rhino raced toward me. But, suddenly it stopped. The chain around its neck held tight as the very tip of its horn just grazed my thumb to create a tiny bruise. I think I had her going at first, but she soon realized I was pulling her leg. We both had a good laugh.

To another friend, I explained I was at the bank when they discovered a bomb near the vault. Since I’m an ex-Navy SEAL, I jumped across the counter to defuse it. The detonator snapped against my thumb as I cut the wire. Since I’m 5’7” and weigh 150 pounds, he knew I’d never been a SEAL. He just rolled his eyes and groaned. But I chuckled when he snorted, “Navy SEAL? Yeah, right. Maybe more like a pollywog.”

This simple bruise, with its myriad cornucopia of possibilities, reminds me of a truth espoused in many schools of philosophy and a teaching found in all major religions, “Be like the little children.”

Children find excitement around every corner. They view the world through eyes of wonder; drinking every event from a cup of enthusiasm. Children revel in the “good” things, and “bad” things don’t keep them down for long. If they fall off a bike, they dust themselves off and get back on. They keep trying. Children make a game out of every nuance which life unfolds before them.

Seeing wonder in everything is the way to stay young at heart.

Living the wonder or letting it fade is the difference between happy people and curmudgeons. Curmudgeons lament about a bruise. Happy people transform it into an adventure.

RIDING ON PRESSURE

Riding on pressure. That’s what we do.

Certainly when we drive, our tires remain in contact with the road. But, tires are only a rubber skin filled with what? Air held to a specific pressure. That pressure allows us the freedom to cruise along in our cars.

If the pressure’s too low, it affects our driving. Our gas mileage suffers. Tires wear out prematurely. It can even damage our rims.

If the pressure’s gone entirely, we make little or no headway. We certainly can drive on flat tires, but we won’t generate our usual speed. Moreover, it destroys our tires and rims.

If the pressure’s too high, it also wears out our tires prematurely. It raises the risk of a blow out, which is dangerous at high speeds. Blow outs increase the chance for accidents.

So even with all it’s sophisticated, high tech, circuitry to make our engines run smoothly and purr like a satisfied kitten, driving a car ultimately depends on pressure. We need the right amount to get the maximum performance out of our automobiles.

This is very much like our lives. We need just the right about of pressure to maximize our life experiences.

If we have too little pressure, we become lethargic, maybe even apathetic. This leads to procrastination, depression, and letting life simply pass by.

If there’s too much pressure, we become stressed, anxious, unable to maintain focus. It leads to a hyper-state of agitation which burns us out. Not only that, but stress can also manifest into physical illness. Heart attack, cancer, and other life threatening diseases are linked to stress.

Balance is the key. It’s important for air pressure in our tires, and it’s important in the pressure level of our lives.

Gages help us determine whether our tires hold the right amount of pressure. How do we gage the amount of pressure in our lives? Unfortunately it’s not as straight forward as seeing how far the little stick pops out when we press a gage to the valve. But there are signs.

For me, one sign is when I notice my irritability level rising, especially for trivial things. Then I know my stress level is pushing into the danger zone. A drop in my tolerance for people and situations correlates to a spike in my internal pressure. Snapping at the people closest to me is another definite sign.

Conversely, when I find it hard to get out of bed in the morning, I know there’s a substantial lack of pressure. Generally I have high enthusiasm for even mundane things. When I notice it waning, that tips me off that my energy is slipping and I’m sliding downward toward depression.

The problem is I don’t always recognize these signs. The ego likes to trick us into thinking we’re always in control, even when we’re veering dangerously into trouble.

At those times, it’s best to rely on our closest confidantes. They will tell us or show us by their actions that we’re not our usual selves. However, that has it’s own scale of balance. If they come on too strong, by being accusatory instead of compassionate, we may reject their warning. Also, if our egos are really out of control, we might just brush off their concern as overreaction.

But think about it, if you even have a notion that someone’s overreacting to you, that in itself is a sign that something is out of whack. It may be you. It may be the other person. Either way it’s presents a situation that calls for some pensive thought.

If we’ve developed a trusting relationship with our friends, and we’re honest with ourselves, a few moments of reflection is usually all we need to sort out where the imbalance lies. If it is us, then we can start taking action — either pumping up our pressure or bleeding some off.

We’re all riding on pressure. That’s what we really do.

YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?

“Do you feel the same way I do?” he tentatively asks.

“Yes. I can no longer hide it either. Lately I’ve been feeling it too,” she confirms.

“Then what do you think we should do?” he inquires.

“I guess we should give back each other’s keys and take home our clothes we brought over,” she quietly suggests.

“What! Why would we do that?” he shouts in anxiety.

“Well, when people break up, they don’t usually hold onto each other’s keys,” she explains, puzzled.

A look of shock grips his face as he reveals, “Break up? I was thinking we should get married!”

“Oh!” she utters, caught in her own surprise. “Then I guess I don’t feel the same way you do.”

It’s absolutely mind boggling how two people can see the exact same things, experience the same events, and interact with each other in the same moments of time, yet come away with completely different interpretations. It’s as if they exist in two totally separate universes.

For example, take eyewitness accounts of events. Quite often, in fact almost always, conflicting accounts surface when eyewitnesses are interviewed. Do their eyes see different actions taking place? No, they may have different vantage points, but they’re probably seeing the same things.

The mind interprets what the eyes see through the lens of it’s own bias. And, since we share so many similarities with those close to us, we generally think they share the same biases we do. We believe this so much that we often don’t even communicate all our thoughts. We just assume they’re understood. That’s how we get ourselves into situations like the one portrayed above.

Clear communication is one of the easiest things to do, yet so many times it just doesn’t happen. Instead of speaking clearly, people often speak cryptically, relying on innuendo and context to clarify their meaning. This is done for a variety of reasons.

Sometimes people are afraid to say exactly what they feel. They fear rejection. If they speak vaguely, then they don’t have to face up to the truth that people feel differently than they do. Living under a shadow of hope is less fearful than confronting the light of truth. However, no matter how well crafted the façade is, eventually the truth crashes down around them. Is it better to meet it head on or meter it out slowly? The answer is personal and depends on the circumstance.

At other times, people just disconnect. The one speaking offers nothing of substance, or the one hearing is closed to receiving. So they don’t really hear each other.

Communication is more than just words. It also includes action. If actions are consistent with the words, then the communication is clear.

One of the main considerations, though, is not so much whether the communication is clear. Rather, don’t simply assume there is an understanding. Avoid expressions like “Do you know what I mean?” Or, “Do you feel the same way I do?”

Instead, say what you mean or how you feel. Express yourself honestly and let your actions support your words. Heartfelt, honest expression and consistent actions help establish your meaning. And ask, “What do you mean?” Or, “How do you feel?”

Communicating clearly might just help you avoid getting your key ring back, when instead you wanted to slip a different type of ring on someone’s finger.

GRATITUDE SHOPPING

I like grocery shopping! I know people who hate shopping and hate grocery shopping most of all. But not me.

I’ve even shopped with some of those people. That’s a challenging endeavor. They get irritable, impatient, and angrily plod through the store, complaining about every little inconvenience that occurs. It’s not pleasant.

It’s frustrating seeing people forcing themselves to adopt and maintain a foul mood. I think it takes more effort stoking the fires of a bad mood than it does just accepting the situation and moving on. But hey, we’re all free to choose our own perspectives.

I admit it’s not fun getting bumped, stepped on, or rammed by shopping carts. I find it particularly irritating when forced to wait for someone strategically blocking off half the aisle with their shopping cart set at an angle, while successfully cutting off the other half by bending over searching for that box of store brand toaster pastries. It’s especially cruel when I race toward an opening just wide enough to slip through, but then get completely cut off as they balance on one leg, leaning toward the shelf, as their other leg rises behind them like a gate.

Everything has its trials and tribulations.

I try holding my frustration at bay by adopting an attitude of gratitude.

Yes, the reason I like shopping is because of the benefits these experiences bestow. I like taking care of my family. One of the ways I do that is making sure I can provide what we need to live. Going shopping ensures we have food to sustain our lives, but we require much more to maintain our daily lives.

We need soap to wash our bodies, clothes, and dishes. We need paper to wipe our bottoms and blow our snotty noses into. Without batteries we couldn’t run a wide assortment of small appliances. Pens, chewing gum, deodorant, antibiotic creams, etc., all provide usefulness. The list of things needed goes on ad infinitum.

Going shopping guarantees having the things that make our daily routines run smoothly. I am grateful to have a job that supplies the money to pay for these items. And my gratitude expresses itself in my weekly excursions to replenish those supplies.

Instead of a dreaded chore that must be done, shopping becomes a labor of love to serve my family. Providing this service is a privilege and honor. I’m grateful for the opportunity it provides.

I find the key to transforming any “chore” into an enjoyable adventure is simply realizing the service it offers to others (and myself). Being of service provides just as much benefit to the service provider as it does to the people being serviced. It gives us purpose. It creates situations which foster gratitude.

It’s impossible to feel upset when basking in gratitude.

If you don’t believe me, try it yourself. When feeling low about something you must do, remember why you’re doing it. Think about the benefits derived. Remember the positive effects which resulted the last time you accomplished this task. Envision the positive effects it will have on you and your loved ones this time. I bet before you know it, your tension fades. Your frustration softens. You may even start smiling.

So, make your list and go shopping. Maybe I’ll run into you. I’ll be the other shopper who’s smiling.

SHOWER CAP

I used a shower cap this morning. That’s not unusual. I slip one on whenever I don’t want my hair to get wet in the shower. I have a box full of them. My ex-wife collected then from hotels on her many business trips. She left them behind when she moved out. I still use them, even though ten years have passed since she left. I really don’t think much about her, even though I still use the shower caps on a regular basis.

It makes me wonder about how many other things I use based on old influences that I don’t even give any conscious thought to anymore.

I drive daily without ever thinking back to my driver’s education classes, or even thinking about the years of driving experience I’ve gained. Riding my bike elicits no thoughts about when I started balancing enough to take off the training wheels. Kissing a woman brings back no memories of the first girl I kissed or all the trials and tribulations of love.

I learned those things, practiced them repeatedly, and now they’re simply part of my patterns. I literally do them without thinking about them. They resulted from very powerful and poignant influences. However, now the events which introduced me to those patterns are suspended in the abyss of past experiences.

The events happened. They were profound at the time. But now, if I wish to retrieve them, I consciously have to draw the recollection from little used synaptic pathways, many of which haven’t fired in decades.

The mind extracts the essential parts of every experience and holds in easy access the things it deems are important, relegating the others to a more distant location. It still recalls the parts necessary for daily functioning, but the fluff surrounding those parts gets stored in dusty, insulated lockers. They can be reopened, but why bother?

One reason to bother, though, is when it comes time to release some of those left over patterns. For example, my pattern of quickly becoming angry is one worth changing. Getting angry is a little trick I learned from my dad. His example of becoming impatient with piddly little frustrations and releasing a surge of wrath is something I’ve carried around for a long time.

After repeatedly working myself up into a snit and suffering the embarrassment afterward, I decided to do something about it. I wasn’t having much luck just trying to brute force myself into not getting angry. The anger still surged until I inevitably lost control. It’s impossible to reason with the unreasonable.

That pattern became etched onto my behavior “circuitry” by repeated observation of my dad. I then reinforced it each time I got angry. It wasn’t until I consciously thought about the pattern that I realized it was me who let it steal my self-control.

It was my fault, pure and simple. I may have had a teacher, but I’m the one responsible for learning the technique and adopting it as a pattern.

Opening up those dusty, insulated lockers is worth the effort. It helps bring perspective to exactly why it is we behave as we do. Though the dust it kicks up leaves us feeling unclean, we can shower to rinse it away. And, if I don’t want to get my hair wet, I still have a stack of shower caps to wear.