as i walked the labyrinth at summer solstice i was taken to a space rarely experienced. i walk the labyrinth weekly with a group of people committed to this practice.
as i sat in silence, before beginning, i was breathed into the spacious opening to Love….that inexpressible place of connection, of knowingness, of the peace that passes all understanding.making ready to walk the path of the labyrinth, i drew an inspiration card. need i even mention that i received the card called ‘love’?with this support i began, step by step, to follow the curving, arcing, embracing path of the labyrinth.
i knew, in all aspects of my being, this Love to be universal, unlimited and just barely contained. it walked me toward the centre of the labyrinth and away again. with each turning Love vibrated through me. yogis call this vibration spanda, the pulsation of consciousness, the sacred tremor of the heart. in this moment i knew Love to be the substrate of the universe which underlies and manifests as all things.
this connection is available to every one of us. at this time of eldering we have even more opportunities to unite in this way. no matter what form your relationship to the non-material takes, this connection is possible. we need only create the environment and circumstances that bring it to awareness.
finding time for solitude, and reflection becomes possible at the eldering stage of life. whether walking in our enfolding environment or on a labyrinth or preparing and eating a meal, we have the opportunity to connect. because we are now less distracted by external circumstances, we can create the supportive conditions more easily.much like preparing the soil for a garden, walking the labyrinth weekly had prepared me for this experience. the right conditions were in place. the environment was supportive. and the silence was available to hold the spanda, the vibration. then Love arose, unexpected, unbidden and joyously welcomed.
the heart space
in yoga practice, the heart centre is called anahata.
anahata means the sound that is made without striking one thing upon another (as with a drum or gong). it is regarded as the sound of the celestial realm and holds balance, calm and tranquility. this is a space where we can connect with ourselves, with others and with spirit.the heart, in many western cultures, was, and often still is, regarded as the seat of emotion. warm-hearted people are attractive, while the opposite is true of those who might be regarded as cold-hearted. 
as the years pass, the heart can become a space that holds fear…heart attack? pacemaker? high blood pressure? coronary artery disease? valve replacement? cancer and heart disease are now neck and neck for the dubious honour of number 1 killer, both in the US and the UK, with cancer just beginning to overtake heart disease. in the UK more women die of heart disease than breast cancer.and to find the amazing heart, read on…
~ every day the average human heart beats around 70 times per minute—100,000beats per day.~ though it’s a muscle, the heart never gets fatigued.~ it will beat more than 2.5 billion times by the time we are 70.~ our blood travels 19,000 km every day—the equivalent of london to hong kong and back.~ it pumps 7,200 litres of blood every day.(“the surgeon who fell in love with broken hearts”, the i, 12 june 2018)
and what of the anahata, the space of tranquility and balance? what can we do to foster calm with each heart beat, with each ‘unstruck sound’ that can take us to the celestial realm?
recently i heard the sound as i walked barefoot in the grass and felt each blade tickle the soles of my feet. i smelled roses in the air. my heart was calm. then i chopped bok choy and onions for my lunch, and seasoned them with toasted sesame oil and soya sauce. my heart was calm, beating the unstuck sound. later, i spoke with a friend who lives far away, giving thanks for (some of) the amazing technology i have available. my heart was at peace. it becomes more possible to hear the anahata sound in the small things as we become elders, as we become more conscious.not every day is filled with sunshine and roses. and yet, the heart space remains, the anahata, the space of the celestial realm. it is with us at all times, always available. we need only remember the sound.
now and then
i spoke to an american friend today. she admitted quite openly that, when it comes to “later in life”, she’s an ostrich, her head deeply buried in the sand.
she slowly began to voice fears about care homes and assisted living facilities, as they are called in the u.s. slowly, she began to hear her own voice, her terror of living in “a place like that.” the tears rose for us both, over the miles, as we sat in silence together…nothing left to say.and yet there is all the time between now and then. do we choose to live in fear of the future? there is only so much planning that can be done now, in the present, for an unknown future. we can write a will, create powers of attorney, state our wishes to those who care about us.and yet, so much is unknown and unknowable. what will be our state of physical health? mental health? emotional health? there are no answers…only the existential realisation of our human being, our essential fragility. to hold this knowledge with tender care is vital to our spiritual eldering. this is a part the reality of human nature, along with the vast potential for continued growth and evolution.the acknowledgement of our human strength, our hard-wired will to survive, makes it possible to find new avenues for that growth. finding the vitality to open to new ideas, new activities, new loves is also part of the path of the elder. simply taking our place in our community with elder consciousness can open vistas unseen before.
let us take our heads out of the sand and honour our elder selves, living as fully as we are able in each moment, in each breath.
grieving
It is important, as we get older, to learn how to grieve. Although this may sound self-evident, experience has taught me that it is not. In a culture that emphasizes stoicism and forward movement, in which time is deemed “of the essence,” and there is little toleration for slowness, inwardness, and melancholy, grieving – a healthy, necessary aspect of life – is too often overlooked.Over the years, in working with people who are grieving, I’ve encouraged them first of all to surrender to the experience of their pain. To counteract our natural tendency to turn away from pain, we open to it as fully as possible and allow our hearts to break. We must take enough time to remember our losses – be they friends or loved ones passed away, the death of long-held hopes or dreams, the loss of homes, careers, or countries, or health we may never get back again. Rather than close ourselves to grief, it helps to realize that we only grieve for what we love.
ram dass, one of the 20th/21st century's great spiritual teachers, reminds us to grieve. we usually think of grieving after the death of someone close. in addition, he reminds us, there are other losses to be honoured.in a long life we have experienced many. have we truly grieved them? have we truly surrendered to the fact of life that is a death? have we opened to the offerings of pain?looking back on a life of many years, tens of thousands of days, allows us to grieve. we can slow down enough to recall the significant events and people in our life. we can work with the memory...painful, challenging, joyful...and grieve its passing.we also can take the opportunity to repair any harm done, if possible.we can open to the process of forgiveness...for ourselves and others. we might finally be able to be kind to ourselves, to acknowledge deeply our human-ness, and to open to the foilbles and frailties of others.we can, in our hearts, allow our actions to be seen in a different light, even those events we might have seen as mistakes. we can take a breath and see that each mistake we made contributed to our growth. each one was a stepping stone to the present moment, to where we are now. in this inquiry our broken hearts might be relieved of burdens carried for decades.then freedom is more available, then the breath flows more easily, and then, when we take the steps in dying, there may be less holding us back.then we might be more available to love.
an internal richness
it’s true. my life is no longer filled with the demands of a job, the endless appointments and commitments.
life is no longer filled the worry of impressing others, the angst of wondering who i am and what i’m doing with my life.it’s true. i have time and space, now, to be. i have surrendered doing for being.what does that mean, really? i was not taught how to be, only how to do and accomplish. i was not raised in a mythical, spiritual household. in fact, quite the opposite. and yet, somehow, i learned to be. over decades of time and space, i learned to be. i learned that this moment, and this moment, are truly all i have.all my material possessions are transitory, the odds and ends of the work and efforts of the past. many are precious to me, and i know they will all eventually decay, find their way to a charity shop, end up in a landfill or on a friend’s mantlepiece until she too dies. some of my mother’s jewellery may be gifted on for a few more generations, but little else will survive the passing of time.
time, in all its power, cannot take this moment from me. nor is there a place for it in a landfill. it can only be experienced in the richness of the internal state of being.in the state of now there is space for every experience to be truly felt and integrated. each experience creates a new bit of life wisdom that can be shared, passed on, given away. it can survive the passage of time and, for all its spaciousness, experience has a sense of solidity, of embodiment.this internal richness is the source of the spirit of eldering. this is the gift of decades of learning, of transforming, and of loving life…moment by moment, experience by experience, breath by breath. this internal richness is the fruit of our life’s labours. it is this golden treasure that allows the connection with Spirit.
another journey
on the road to spiritual eldering we may encounter a few obstacles. (did i say “a few”?) one of those roadblocks might be forgiveness. in a life of many decades there certainly have been moments of rash behaviour that have caused injury. surely words that have cause hurt escaped our mouths without thought. and no doubt, there were many moments when we caused harm to ourselves.
Forgiveness is a journey, it is not just an event.~~ Jean Vanier, Encountering the Other
how do we undertake this journey, this step into the past and into the ongoingpresent? as with all journeys, preparation is essential.a check list:
* take a breath, or two, or three;* gather together the map of significant events/the memories that arise;* a water bottle/refreshment for the body;* sturdy shoes/the deep willingness to be authentic;* and possibly an umbrella/a box of tissues;*make sure your vehicle is in good order/that you feel well enough to look with love and tenderness at some uncomfortable moments;* grab your keys/a way back to safety;* and go.this exploration into forgiveness is a vital process in claiming our elderhood. to look at and to feel honestly into the errors in judgement, the hurtful patterns of behaviour, the attachment to being right, and the stubbornness that prevented reconciliation takes great courage…the courage of a spiritual warrior.we gather our courage to take the first small step. we know every journey begins at a threshold. we become willing to move out of comfort into the unknown. we step into the place marked on ancient maps with the words, “here be dragons”.
not knowing and yet being willing asks us to trust in something beyond our limited self. to begin we have trust that there will be benefit in this journey. otherwise, why bother?one of my most recent forgiveness journeys was undertaken in the context of my brother’s dying. nine years ago he received a diagnosis of terminal multiple myeloma, a blood cancer. he lived eight years after that diagnosis. he did remarkable things during those years, including being kind to me. historically, we had a relationship fraught with control, meanness, and lack of empathy. his dying allowed him to open.i knew, deep inside, i had to forgive him if i were to let him go with grace. i did not want unresolved issues to follow him into his grave in jerusalem. i did not want to live with this particular heartache until i died. i forgave him as much for my internal well-being as well as for whatever meaningful time we had left before he died.so i found the willingness to accept his human failings and frailty. while acknowledging that some of his actions were difficult to forgive, i could forgive the human he was.and, at his death, i was able to grieve without holding back, to honour him in ways that were meaningful to us both, and to support his children in all their feelings about their father.was it worth the painful journeying process? without question.because now i am free to experience love unhindered by regret.