Expectations of Christmas Past

I grew up in a small town on the Missouri River, as did my parents, and their parents before them. Every Christmas Eve my mom would clean the house and my dad would go out to the store for food. The house was ready, Jack and I waiting with barely containable excitement, and a spread had been laid out for the guests:  cold cuts, wonder bread, Ruffles potato chips, beer, pop, and lots of homemade sweets. The relatives would descend on our house, grandmas, aunts, uncles, cousins, sometimes from both my mom's and my dad's side of the family.

After opening presents the kids would watch television or play games and the adults would stay at the kitchen table drinking and playing poker. We would sneak back into the kitchen for cookies and to hang out if we were bored and tried to join the adult conversation. If my Uncle Ricky was winning he would lean over to me, smelling of beer with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and he would hand me a twenty. He's still a cash kind of gifter, when he's got any cash to give.

It was a loud, raucous time and we kids ran wild. I didn't know anything else and I thought it was great!

That was my expectation of Christmas when I went out to make my own way in the world and, as Buddha said, expectations create suffering. We live in California, we have one child, our closest relative is a thousand miles away, and I am estranged from my mother. For years a melancholy would descend on me come Christmas time, but not this year.

I have been sensing a shift deep within me for some time, but it was so intangible that it was hard to know if it was real. I think (with my ever lingering self-doubt I wouldn't want to be too emphatic), but I really think I'm actually happy exactly where I am. So tomorrow the three of us will get up and unwrap gifts thoughtfully purchased based on knowing one another intimately, the dogs will tear up the boxes and shred the wrapping paper, we will eat cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven, and it will be good. I think this shift has been about appreciating what's right in front of me and letting go of expectations of Christmas past.

Wishing you all  peace and the ability to appreciate exactly what you have today. Now I'm being pulled back to the television by the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window. 

Tapping Into Atman

As a girl I sensed the atman within me, but I didn't have the vocabulary to express it. You see, I was raised a Baptist. In the Bible Belt of America curiosity about the higher self, the idea that we are all pieces of God, was not encouraged, so it sat dormant for years.

I eventually found my way to an Eastern Philosophy class at Austin Community College and my path was forever altered. Now I am the teacher at a community college asking my students to tap into their own atman on the yoga mat. I love the full circle aspect of this story.

Who are you? What is your true nature? I could make a lot of money if I had the answer to these questions. I fantasize about myself as though I'm the Midwest version of Deepak Chopra, but unfortunately I have no answers. The true essence of who we are is what I've been meditating on with my students this week, really it's what I've been meditating on for a lifetime. In Hinduism they call this essence atman. What does this word, this concept, truly mean? It's the universal self, the underlying force for all our authentic interactions. It can be tricky to find in the busy world we live in, but not impossible.

The plastic world around us reveres material goods above all else and piles a lot of stuff on top of our atman. It takes hard work and diligence to stay tuned-in and connected to your authentic self.

When I was a child I remember watching a bully on the playground pushing some kid around and my heart hurt.  Even though I didn't have the courage to stand up and speak, I was tapping into atman then. It doesn't always start with action, it starts with a knowing. A gut feeling about right and wrong.

I continued to hear the voice (that's always how I describe atman, as a voice in my head that guides me), not the voice from the self my parents told me I was, not the voice that desperately needed me to fit in, but the voice deep within...and I began to allow this voice to guide my actions, my words. The voice was shaky at first, but it was not going to be ignored  any longer.

I began to feel as though I wasn't comfortable in my own skin when I didn't honor atman. Like wearing clothes that are wet and too small. So how do you tap into this essence? How do you open to hearing your voice? For me it started with meditation. I noticed each time I got off my cushion and went back into the world that the voice was easier to hear.

Since I've been allowing atman to guide me I have less drama in my life, there is less second guessing my decisions, and I rarely feel regret. Allowing the inner voice to guide me means weighing what is not only right for me, but for all those around me as well. I think this is how we were wired to be in the first place, we just have to unearth it. So go out and be the change you want to see in the world. Or ask yourself “What would Jesus do”? Or simply follow your hearts guidance, it knows what to do if you listen.