Bryn Bamber

Lifted

When I lived in Newfoundland
I used to ride my bike to work
And sometimes the wind off the ocean would be so strong
I’d have to peddle going down hill.

And on those days I’d battle the wind
Fighting tooth and nail
Trying to make it to work on time

And then in Montreal winters
Walking to school
A cold wind would hit me as I turned a corner
Tunneled by the buildings
Picking up speed
Chilling me to the bone

And now living in a small community in BC
I’ve found a different kind of wind
Same pressure
Different source

The winds of emotions
Of trying to live and work together
Of trying to make things work and disagreeing about how

And I’ve been standing in this wind being pummelled again
Thinking “Why me?”
“I’m just the messenger.”

And then the other day
I remembered if I spread my wings at just the right angle
I can catch the wind and lift up

The birds don’t spit at the wind
They allow it to help them to soar

So I’m learning not to run away

I’m learning to face
Choose my angle
And soar.

I’m not quite sure where it starts. But at some point I realize there’s a voice that’s questioning every decision that I make. “Is that really a good idea?” “Do you really need that?” And the hidden message is really – do you really deserve that? Are you really worthy?

And right now is one of the moments. As I sit in my bed typing I have this sinking feeling in my chest. I want to sleep. I don’t want to be seen. I want it to go away. This voice tells me to hide and keep all of my actions secret so others won’t discover “what a horrible person I truly am”.

And when it gets to this stage it affects all my choices – from what to have for dinner to whether or not to buy a Macbook Air.

And I’m amazing at coping. It’s happened before and I know how to ride it out – putting off making important decisions or getting a level headed friend to help. Pretending I’m totally fine and thinking that other’s don’t notice my edginess. Smiling. Getting the work done.

But I want to do more than cope. I want to get to the roots and pull them out. I want to find out where this shame is coming from. And I want to be free.

This time it started with a busy day where people were sick and didn’t let the office know. I was coordinating the work schedule so spent a lot of time trying to figure out where people were and to find coverage for them. And then I called a community meeting to explain the importance of communicating if you can’t come to work. I also had a disagreement with a co-worker. And then talked again later to resolve the issue.

I was mad and I was tired and I was stressed. And then it was like this anger came up and then at some point was turned on myself.

The voice emerged – “Does everyone dislike me now that I called them out?” “Did I really need to say anything?” “Was the disagreement my fault?” “Am I good person at all?”

So I’m practicing believing I have worth even when it’s at its loudest. Trying to take baby steps towards shameless living. Buying the computer even though the voice thinks I’m not worth it. And using the car to transport boxes of magazines even when the voice says:

“You should walk.
Do you really want to pollute the environment with that gasoline?
Are you just being lazy?
And what if someone else needs to use the car?
Someone doing something more important.
Someone more important.”

And I think its working even though it’s far from perfect…

Step by step.
Inch by inch.
I am stumbling towards freedom.

Mind

Often my mind goes wherever it likes, following the path of least resistance. Flowing into old thought patterns before I notice and realize I have a choice.

English scholar and yogi Ernest Wood helped me to see this happening. In Concentration: An Approach to Meditation, he writes,

…the need of mental training, or regular, orderly, purposeful exercise of the mind, is far greater than that of the body in most cases; for at our general stage of growth most [people]’s bodily activities are well-ordered and controlled , and the body is obedient to their will, but their minds are usually utterly disobedient, idle and luxurious.[1]

And I’m beginning to see how this manifests for me.

For the past couple of days I’ve felt slightly disconnected. And today I finally realized I don’t need to beat myself up about it. I’m able to see that beating myself up is flowing into the old thought pattern of not good enough, not smart enough, not efficient enough.

I’m realizing that I feel uncentered and that’s okay. I am centered enough.

Utterly disobedient – until I choose to make a change.

And so I’m beginning to watch what happens in my mind. To notice and to write. To become the detective and put the clues together. To realize when a negative pattern is happening and to shift away. To exercise choice.

And there’s an amazing freedom that comes. Realizing that when my mind is utterly disobedient it causes a lot of pain. And then when I find ways to change the pattern the pain lifts.

So slowly.
One step at a time.
I am learning to change my mind.

[1] Wood, Ernest. Concentration: An Approach to Meditation. Wheaton: Theosophical Publishing House ,1949, p. 62.

The Breath of the New Year

The new year invites us to ask,
Where are we going?
Where are coming from?

And this year,
As I stood on that bridge in between the new year and the old
I cast a glance over my shoulder
And looked back.

Tears streamed down my face

So much has happened
So much has changed

It was a year of falling down and getting up again
Looking at mountains that seemed too big to ever climb
And trying

It was a year of running into other people
Of getting mad
Or getting hurt

And then trying to make things better
Trying to make things work

Trying to figure things out.

And as I look back I see sometimes they did work
And that I did make it part way up that insurmountable climb

Even though I fell trying
More than once

To celebrate the New Year I danced
And for me this dance became a statement

I am here
I want to be here

Even though I fall down
I want to be here

And as I look back
I gather the precious treasures from the year
And the gems I find are subtle shifts in my body and voice

Clarity in sound
More integrity in my spine

They say,
I am here
I want to be here.

subtle shifts.
hard to see.

They change everything.

Art

Art is beauty for more than the sake of itself
When the form and the essence marry
And truth becomes visible

Art depends as much on the audience as the artist
Words can be lost
Symmetry unseen

Harmony can be felt
Hearts can be opened
There can be Rhythm

It takes two to tango.

So look up as you walk down the street
Where is the color? Where is the light?

The bright eyes of a child
Small birds chattering in city shrubs
Music drifting out of a basement window
The mountains in the distance

Pause.

All art needs is an audience.

Renunciation

I want renunciation.

And this is a shocking thing to say – even to myself – as just a couple of months ago I saw renunciation as following a long list of rules that force one to give up everything fun or pleasurable.

That isn’t renunciation at all actually.
That’s forcing.

And I recently I let go of my attachment to completing all 30 books report by the deadline. Not giving up, but detached from the outcome. Transforming it from a to-do list item to part of my life’s work.

Spiritual teacher and pioneer in bringing yoga to the West, Swami Radha, says that renunciation cannot be forced. You can be very determined but the cucumber will only drop from the vine when its ripe.[1]

And as the burdens I have carried for far too long begin to fall away it’s an indescribable feeling of freedom. It’s the feeling of flying down a hill on my bicycle. It’s the feeling of a bird flying quickly through the forest. Darting in and out through the tangle of branches. Fast, focused and free.

And I want more.

So my work is ripening the cucumbers – which as a gardener I know is both a complicated and simple thing to do. The main ingredient is time but the cucumber will not make it at all if the seed is not planted or if there isn’t day to day care.

And as I tend the burdens in my life – giving them water and love – and wait for their time to ripen – I am learning to be like that bird.

I am learning to be free.

[1] Radha, Swami. On Sanyas. Kootenay Bay: timeless, 2010, p. 23.

Want to read more about learning to be free? See Rise Up or The Rule Book.

December

I make my home in the mountains

And as autumn falls into winter
I have to use my flashlight to get to dinner

Every evening I walk past the great cedars
Over the bridge
Through the sound of the rushing creek
In the dark.

And last year at this time
As the nights got longer
And the days darker
I felt a lump in my throat begin to form

And I thought about vitamin D pills
And S.A.D. lamps
And Mexico

Something. Anything.

Make it better.

But this year is different.

This year I am able to see the beauty of the stars that watch over my evening meal
And feel the joy of crawling into bed at 6:30 pm to read my book.

All I want to do is retreat.

Hibernate.

I am no longer trying to combat the flow of seasons
I am tuning into nature
And riding her waves.

And as I crawl into the cave of my heart to rest for the winter
I am grateful for this blanket of snow and this blanket of darkness that has come
To protect me.

Until it’s time to emerge and blossom.

Summoned by the Light.

Stressed? Want to melt into December and hibernate? Need more hours in the day? Get your free checklist here – tinyurl.com/getanhourback

Each day is a gift.

One of my favourite poet’s, John O’Donohue, writes in To Bless the Space Between Us, “Each new day is a path of wonder, a new invitation. Days are where our lives gradually become visible.”[1]

I’ve recently started a new practice of walking down to the water every morning before breakfast. Growing up in Ontario, lakes are my home – the places where I feel safe, relaxed and free. And now each morning I walk down the steps, past the prayer rooms to the beach. The pebbles crunch under my feet, the waves lap against the shore and my world opens up as I reach the edge of the lake and suddenly I can see for miles in each direction.

I live in the mountains now, far away from rolling hills of my Ontario home, but nature does not mind what side of the country it is on. The fall still passes into winter, the dawn lifts into morning. As I stand beside the shore I connect to the rhythms that I know well. The waves lap, the wind blows, the sky opens up and I remember that I am a part of life.

I pause to take it all in and then turn to walk back towards my community where I face the responsibilities, joys, and challenges of working with others towards a shared vision that I care deeply for.

These precious morning moments are brief but they are not lost when I enter into our main building or sit down at a community meeting. The remembering stays and helps me to navigate my life.

O’Donohue writes, “No day belongs to us. Each day is a gift.”[2]

[1] Donohue, John. To Bless the Space Between Us. New York: Doubleday, 2008, p.189.
[2] Donohue, John. To Bless the Space Between Us. New York: Doubleday, 2008, p.190.

Maya, Illusion and Blogging

14 Days. 10 Posts. 454 Views. 23 Likes. 6 Comments. 16 Followers.

Stats that reveal I am officially a ‘blogger.’

Pioneer in bringing Yoga to the West, Swami Radha writes, “Maya [or illusion] is seeing the form without the essence.”[1]

When I get caught up in my Stats page – reading about how many people “like” my blog – that’s where I get caught, in illusion. I see the form without the essence. I get caught up in the details and forget the purpose.

I started the blog to learn how to become who I want to be, to learn to live my ideals. And so as long as I’m learning I’m connected. So I can step back from worrying about Likes, Followers, Marketing My Message and relax into the process.

Maybe one day I will have dazzling internet fame – and maybe I won’t – but that is not my purpose.

I am learning already. The victory is already won.

[1] Radha, Swami Sivananda. Light and Vibration. Kootenay Bay: timeless books, 2007: p. 59.

Burn Pile

Bhajans and burning grudges,
Sacred dance
In the woods
In the dark.

As the crowd fell away the music took off.
Using harmony and sounds.

Stripping the songs bare and then building them back up.
Taking each song to its edges but keeping the essence.
And somehow at the same time finding the essence.

The fire dances,
The trees stand tall,
The last song fades into the night,
And there is stillness.