Beautiful, Messy Humans

Dear friends, 

I've been thinking a lot about a video I often use in sessions focused on compassion. In the video, a high school student tells other students that she's taking pictures of things she finds beautiful; she films their responses. The reactions range from disbelief and embarrassment to joy and gratitude.

Lately I've received a lot of affirmations from various people and I'm noticing my response spans the range that the video portrays. Sometimes I respond with joy and gratitude, fully owning my light.

Recently I had a reaction that looked and sounded a lot like anger. Because I wasn't in the person's presence when I received the beautiful words (they came via text), the other person didn't experience the wrath that spewed from me. 

In the video one young woman responds to the declaration that she is beautiful with "I'll cut you in the face...SHUT UP." My own reaction included expletives and stomping around. The volatility of my reaction to kindness took me by surprise. 

After I settled down, I took some time to wonder: What exactly was that all about? Using Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication as my guide, I discovered a few things: 

• I started by asking myself if it was the messages themselves or something else that hadn't worked for me. I realized that, in general, I really did want and appreciate the messages.  

• However, the timing of the messages didn't work for me. I was out of town and really wanted to be present to what was happening where I was. 

• When I received the messages, I felt annoyed, torn, and beneath those, I felt ashamed.

• The person was reaching out to connect. Not wanting to split attention between where I was and wasn't, I wasn't meeting the person with reciprocal care. 

• I also felt scared of losing connection if I didn't respond in kind and quickly. Mind you, the person was not asking for and explicitly said they didn't expect an immediate response. But the story of what I "had to do" was still alive in me. 

Taking the bigger view of my interior landscape, I could offer myself some care, "Oh, Cory, here you are in aaaallllllll your messy humanness." Offering myself some understanding, my body and emotions settled and I could then engage in a care-filled conversation with the other person. 

When we spoke, I named the above, stating both what had worked for me (the kinds messages) and what hadn't (the timing). I also stated clearly that I wasn't saying that they had done anything wrong.

The other person had some feelings about it, too, but because I had started without accusation, neither of us hurled shame and blame at each other, and we were able to move through the conversation with mutual care. It opened the door to negotiation about how we could communicate in ways that worked for both of us. 

I gotta tell ya, both the self-exploration and the conversation felt like victories.

There was a time when I'd have stopped at the tantrum-like anger and would have, in all likelihood, thrown away the connection, justifying it with stories about what and who was wrong (obviously the other person). 

I'm glad it didn't go that way. I'm learning and integrating the tools I teach. I'm sure I have times ahead of me where my practice is less skillful, but this time I got it right. 

Thank goodness.

Blessings, 
Cory

Holding Vision

Dear friends, 

Recently I've been in several conversations with people who have expansive visions of how their life, their community, our world could be. The words used to describe these visions, and maybe preliminary steps toward them, are often buoyed by a sense of awe and wonder. They indicate possibility beyond what a mind can contain. They are not of the mind, but of the All.  

What if he follows a calling that has been with him for years, maybe decades? 

What if they explore what a new collaboration would look like? 

What if enough people playing a game could heal that which divides us and create Peace on Earth? 

What if...

What if... 

What if...

And I believe... Each what if that we wish to move toward is birthed from, or perhaps births, an I believe. 

While I am writing this, a friend sent me a message referring to some of my own core beliefs:   

I believe in the power of community. 

I believe that each of us has a role in bringing our world closer to wholeness. 

I believe that every person can be both teacher and student and that when we embrace both roles, our world becomes richer. 

I believe in the importance of engaging with complexity. 

I believe that healing happens when we see the beauty of our experiences, our lives, our hearts.   

I believe that compassion, truth, gratitude, beauty, and rest are all manifestations of Love. 

When I live into them, these beliefs do broaden my vision and hope in the what ifs. When I forget them, my sight narrows and my trust falters. 

Lately I've been leaning in. I've been exploring. When Fear comes around, I've been practicing trust, taking Fear by the hand, reassuring her, "we'll be ok," as I receive glimpses from the Universe of bright possibilities if only we, Fear and I, take the steps foward. We're taking the steps. We've been ok. The brightness feels warm.  

I'm also turning back toward my own light and warmth. Earlier this year I had the immense joy of recording for an episode of the Conscious Mental Health podcast. The episide has finally been released! In the conversation, Laurel Sims-Stewart and I get into Nonviolent/Compassionate Communication, Cards for Remembering, Heart Portraits, and more. As I listened to the recording, I thought, "This is pretty good!" I hope you'll give a listen and let me know what you think! 

I'm also excited to guide several of Drepung Gomang Center for Engaging Compassion's 12 Days Toward Peace events, including two Peacemaker Conversations with wise ones- Carla Wallace & Pam McMichael in one and Charles Booker in another- and facilitating a discussion about a wonderful documentary, "Pray the Devil Back to Hell." I also have a few other events coming up that you can read about below. It is wonder-filled work. 

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As I turn to wonder about my own life, I also turn to you...

What are the What ifs that lead you to joy and hope? 

What are the beliefs that light your path and warm your way?

I'd love to know. 


With gratitude, 
Cory

Humility

Dear friends, 

Those who are in Louisville and nearby are experiencing cool August days, something that is very unusual and, in my humble opinion, absolutely glorious!

Speaking of humble things, let me offer this little story that came to mind today. Thirteen years ago I was in India working with the Sisters of Charity of Nazareth (SCNs) teaching English.  My time there was filled with great growth and learning. This story is not about one of the loftier lessons. 

Shortly after I arrived, the sisters helped me pick out a sari and other traditional Indian clothing. I only wore the sari for special occasions and the sisters always helped me put it on. Mastering the assemblage of a sari is no small feat! Each time they helped me, I studied what we were doing- the wrapping, the folds, the pins. I was determined that I would learn to do it without help. 

Toward the end of my time there I was at the kickoff of the SCN's bicentennial celebration. I had decided that I was ready to put my sari on all by myself. As evening came, I went to my room, excited to surprise everyone with my expertise in sari-wearing. A few minutes later a sister knocked on my door. "I've been looking for you. We have to put your sari on!"

Proudly, I told her I was going to do it myself. 

She looked at me and said, "But we want you to look good!"

I accepted her help. 

The word "humility" comes from humus, "earth." In humility, we are reminded that we are of the earth and on the earth. Sometimes we choose to practice humility, open-heartedly recognizing our dust-mud-soil existence. Other times when our feet float off the ground, someone "invites" us back down to earth. 

In the last month I've had the humble recognition that a decision I made two years ago led me into earthy depths that I didn't know I was entering. Darkness, dirt and grit, struggle. I wasn't in it all the time, of course, but looking back, I see that I was submerged underground more than I had realized. It is only as I am starting to reach back toward the airy light that I am becoming cognizant of how deep underground I had gone. It was a time of stretching my roots, fortifying myself in the dark, fertile compost (some of that compost was old parts of me), preparing for new growth. 

As I reach upward now, I am ready to be fully out in the light. 

At least I think so. Who knows if someone is about to step into my life to say, "Wait, there's a little more for us to do together before you go out fully on your own." 

If I'm being honest, I hope I'll always be willing to accept some help. It can be pretty lonely thinking I can do it all myself. Unsurpirisingly, I get less done working alone. Or I get stuck, and nothing gets done. I've tried it a time or two or three or...That stubborn independence was part of what sent me downward two years ago. Lately I've been asking for and receiving support to help me move toward the light. It is humbling.

Leaning into this interconnected humility feels really good. 

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And I wonder about you...

When have you experienced earthy humility? 

How does it feel to you?  

Who has brought you down to earth and who has helped you when you've come down to earth unexpectedly? 

I’d love to know.

With gratitude, 
Cory