Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Limits and Boundaries

Monday, October 24th, 2011

Limits and boundaries
set without consequences
invite trespassers.

 

One of the most difficult experiences in relationship is betrayal. When our limits and boundaries are betrayed we often feel victimized, especially when the transgressor is someone we love and trust.

 

We seldom examine our own culpability in the matter.

 

Everyone knows that children will always test the limits and that it is part of the maturation process. We are taught that good parenting includes setting consequences for stepping across the line. As a matter of fact, our rule of law depends on consequences as a deterrent to criminal behavior.

 

All too often we have not thought through our limits and boundaries in relationship. Nor have we considered what the consequences should be for failure to observe them. Moreover, we often fail to communicate these important distinctions until something bad happens. That’s too late.

 

Why is it that we forget that limits and boundaries with no consequences for trespassers is an act of self-sabotage? Failure to set them, communicate them and uphold them with appropriate measures is a sure fire way to ensure they are violated. No consequences equals no change.

 

Before we point fingers at others for crossing the line perhaps we should take a good look at our own collusion to the injury.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Vision Quest

Tuesday, October 18th, 2011

Three days and nights alone in the desert is an archetypal and transforming experience.  With tent, sleeping bag, water and fasting solution, you have everything you need to ensure that your physical needs are met.  Once you have found a site where there is some shade from the desert sun and enough flat ground to pitch a tent, you can make camp.  There are no distractions that you will permit to interrupt your purpose: food, cell phones, books, ipods, laptop computers, video games or other entertainments are sacrifices on the alter of solitude. You are alone on the land, present with the silence. You sit…and watch…and wait. 

 

It’s hard to tell when your consciousness changes. Maybe it happens right away when you first step on the land.  Maybe it’s when you get over the nervousness of that first night, when every twig snapping and every rustle in the underbrush crashes through you like an explosion. Maybe it’s when you befriend the night sky in all its dynamic brilliance. Maybe it’s when you awaken from a narcoleptic sleep that has carried you to an unfathomable depth to deposit you on the shoreline of consciousness some 18 hours later. Somewhere, the incessant chatter of the mind has been replaced by the slow, hypnotic rhythm of timelessness. 

 

That’s when the visitations come: the memories, dreams, visions. What has evaded decipher suddenly reveals the meanings that have been hidden from understanding while in plain site. This retreat in nature is less about the outer landscape and more about the geography of the inner world, a place of solace and silence. 

 

As the chattering mind recedes, a more ancient way of knowing that resides in the bones and organs attunes you to inner and outer realities. Body wisdom makes possible knowledge that cannot be attained through the mind.

 

Scents on the wind that would never be recognized arrive like advance notice of a guest.  Prickly pear brings a sweet melon scent. The white bursage bush emits the licorice of tarragon and sage and the creosote bush provides a pungent, tarry sweetness to the air.  Somewhere down the arroyo, an acrid scent signals the coming of two scruffy, snorting havelenas looking for a dinner of favorite desert plants. 

 

Drink before you are thirsty, sleep before you are tired, ride boredom like a slow desert wind carrying you ever inward, deeper into the ancient, ancestoral memories carried from your soul by your blood. Sitting alone in this spirited place, perhaps it is possible to recover what is described in the old Zen koans as “that face that you had before you were born.”

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

The Thanksgiving Story

Monday, October 10th, 2011

This is the story of my friend John and our fateful encounter on a Toronto sidewalk. I hope you enjoy it.

 

It was Thanksgiving Day, 1997. That’s when I first met John.

 

I’d seen him before, sitting on the sidewalk on the main street, selling his “art.” He was about 60 years old at the time, hair askew, and dressed in an old coat, worn out shoes and shorts. He wore shorts all year round, usually the same pair, no matter the weather or temperature.

 

John was a panhandler and I avoided him, intimidated by how uncomfortable I felt when he tried to make contact with me while I was passing, which was often. He’d be attempting to sell his artwork to passersby, pieces of paper or cardboard that he had found and applied wild color and distorted images to.

 

Most people ignored him completely, as though he were invisible. I couldn’t tell if he was mentally impaired or crazy or both. That Thanksgiving Day everything changed.

 

Perhaps from misplaced feelings of pity, I decided to buy one of his postcards. He was delighted. He tried to find the best one, and then decided I should have several. He had a new series of “postcards” that he was fashioning with frayed paper and Popsicle stick frames. He retrieved them from an old canvas shopping bag, one of several he carried with him at all times. It was the best way to gather art supplies, he informed me. John reeked of garlic. Later, I learned he ate it raw every day for his health.

 

At the conclusion of this transaction, John asked if he could visit me sometime. Disoriented by the question, I mumbled “ok”.

 

“What’s your address,” he asked to my horror. I quickly gave it to him and scuttled away, certain he would forget.

 

Three weeks later, on a Sunday morning, I saw an apparition wander up the street where I lived. It was wearing shorts and carrying several shopping bags. It called my name. Oh my God, I thought to myself. What now?

 

John arrived full of amiable greetings and a request to visit for a while. He had brought me more of his latest work and would I like to see it? I invited him in to get him off the front porch, so the neighbors wouldn’t see us together and start speculating.

 

In he came. He plunked himself down on the floor in the hallway of my house and began rooting through his bags. By now my family was gathering, shocked witnesses to what was unfolding. As he emptied his bags onto the floor, my alarm grew exponentially. He seemed to be carrying with him every scrap of paper he had ever found. It was filling the hallway. Finally, his search was successful. From out of this mess, he pulled a reasonably good likeness of the church that stood at the top of the hill. “I was having a good day,” he explained. “I think I captured it well.”

 

Something about those words and how they were spoken, the humble satisfaction they conveyed, touched my heart. That was the moment that I decided what he had already concluded some time before. I was going to be an arts benefactor. “Can I have something to eat,” John asked? “I haven’t had breakfast and I have to go to church soon.”

 

That was our first breakfast together. John had breakfast with us every Sunday for three years thereafter. He especially liked peanut butter, which I began buying him in bulk jars. And raw garlic. And bacon and eggs. He would bring me his recent or not so recent work, depending on how he was feeling. We would talk about his life, his schizophrenia, the shock treatments he had endured as a child, his memories of his parents, summer camp, the latest police officer to take him home, the beatings he received on the street. He would sing songs in German, his mother tongue, and educate me about the harsh treatment that the mentally ill were subject to from the budget cutbacks by the government of the day. He was a gentle soul.

 

A couple of years after our first meeting, when my father died, John was full of kind words. “You have helped me so much. Now I can help you, Patrick,” he said.

 

Perhaps he already knew that he had been helping me all along. Helping me to overcome my stupidity and arrogance in dismissing him as a crazy person. Helping me see the dignity that comes from creative expression, no matter what it looks like. Helping me see the power of enterprise and entrepreneurial spirit. Helping me see that a genius of relationship can come in dirty old shorts and boots with holes in the toes.

 

In the third year of our friendship, John was ill on and off. He had to curtail his walking, which was a disappointment to him. In his prime, he confided, he could walk twenty to thirty miles a day. Although I was worried about him, I wrote it off to the medication he was on, which was very harsh on the body. He hated hospitals and refused to go, likely the residue of his childhood experiences.

 

When we didn’t hear from John upon our return from the cottage that summer my wife phoned the minister at John’s church. He gave us the sad news: John had died from a massive stroke. He also told us that we had missed the gathering that had taken place for John in the church hall.

 

It was completely filled with the patrons of the arts.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2008. All rights reserved.

Game of Thrones

Tuesday, October 4th, 2011

I might as well admit it. I am addicted to Game of Thrones.

 

The books. Not the television series on HBO. That’s really good too. But the books are taking me over.

 

I’m half way through the fourth book, A Feast For Crows, and have downloaded the fifth, A Dance With Dragons. I’m plowing through these novels faster than anything I’ve ever read.

 

Everywhere I go, people are talking about Game of Thrones. Getting a haircut the other day was like being on the HBO set: “Winter is coming.” said a hair cutter. A client responded that she was seeing her “Sun and Stars” later for a drink.

 

Even the New York Times is getting into the act.

 

Verlyn Klinkenborg (of House Klinkenborg,) an editorial writer with the Times complains:

 

“Why do I keep reading? Because beneath Mr. Martin’s descriptive pyromancy, these are novels about characters bending under the force of worldly and unworldly circumstances, and Mr. Martin’s characters bend in interesting ways. I read to find out what happened to the heroine left behind a hundred pages ago. I read because if I don’t read, I’ll never get to the end, where real life resumes.”

 

Ser Klinkenborg has obviously missed the point. Most of us don’t want real life to resume. We want George R.R. Martin to write more books.

 

Faster.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

The Twelve Trusts

Tuesday, September 27th, 2011

Just back from the second weekend of The Mystery of Relationships. We had a wonderful session exploring the archetypes of the Healthy Masculine (dynamic energy) and the Healthy Feminine (receptive energy).

 

One highlight of the weekend was the dialogue between the men and women, where each gender shared insights and curiosities about “the sacred other.”

 

It’s facinating to see how locked in we are to our stereotypes, preconceptions and misconceptions about gender.

 

When we move out of prejudice into curiosity and respect, new insights emerge in a space of deep dialogue and intimacy.

 

One of the foundation stones of the weekend was The Twelve Trusts, a contemporary version of the Knight’s Oath of Chivalry. The Code of Chivalry dates back to the Dark Ages.

 

I found this material at a wonderful website called Chivalry Now (www.chivalrynow.net/).

 

It begins:

 

Upon my honor,

 

1. I will develop my life for the greater good.

 

2. I will place character above riches, and concern for others above personal wealth.

 

3. I will never boast, but cherish humility instead.

 

4. I will speak the truth at all times, and forever keep my word.

 

5. I will defend those who cannot defend themselves.

 

6. I will honor and respect women/men, and refute sexism in all its guises.

 

7. I will uphold justice by being fair to all.

 

8. I will be faithful in love and loyal in friendship.

 

9. I will abhor scandals and gossip–neither partake nor delight in them.

 

10. I will be generous to the poor and to those who need help.

 

11. I will forgive when asked, that my own mistakes will be forgiven.

 

12. I will live my life with courtesy and honor from this day forward.

 

The Twelve Trusts are one way that we can support ethical conduct and harmony in relationships. It is also an excellent teaching tool for young people.

 

What if we took this oath every morning? I think, perhaps, the world would be a better place!

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Here, There, and Everywhere

Friday, September 23rd, 2011

I’m in full production mode these days. Last week and over the weekend I was in Adrian, Michigan with the Dominican Sisters; this weekend in San Francisco and the second weekend of The Mystery of Relationships with Angeles Arrien; and next week back in Toronto teaching The Five Transitions.

 

Phewww. I’m tired just reading about it.

 

Much to be excited about though.

 

The work with the Adrian Dominican Sisters is progressing really well. I have been a volunteer advisor with the Order since last December, when they invited me to help them with Congregational change and development.

 

We have been looking at sustaining their mission in the face of some challenges. The average age in the Congregation is 75 years old. As well, formation rates of new sisters coming into the Order are at a trickle, a common challenge for religious communities.

 

Those are daunting conditions.

 

Last weekend I led a future planning conference with 45 Sisters and lay people. It was fun, challenging and creative. Five Pathways have been identified to sustain the mission and preliminary plans of action were drafted.

 

All of it was done with remarkable clarity, courage and good spirits. A tribute, I think, to the character and commitment of all involved.

 

There was even a live podcast from the floor of the planning conference, featuring the Prioress, Sister Attacta Kelly (Irish Woman Extraordinaire!) …and yours truly. I know, what’s wrong with that picture.

 

This weekend is the second weekend of the Relationships program. Angeles Arrien and I will be exploring The Healthy Masculine and Healthy Feminine with our 37 participants at her teaching room in Sausalito.

 

Over the weekend, we’ll be looking at the two Archetypes that are resident in every person: the dynamic and receptive, masculine and feminine. We will also be exploring the shadow of the Archetypes, the Unhealthy Mascuiline and the Covert Feminine.

 

For those who are interested, and unable to attend, allow me to recommend a film we will be using as a teaching tool: Dangerous Liaisons. If you haven’t seen it in a while I recommend that you revisit it. Every line in the film is a lesson in the corruption of innocence through seduction, manipulation and the misuse of power.

 

Chilling!

 

Of course, we will be spending as much, or more time on the healthy aspects of both energies.

 

Next weekend is The Five Transitions, in Toronto. The Five Transitions that every person goes through are:

 

• Work

 

• Relationship

 

• Health

 

• Finances

 

• Identity

 

We are all in transition, whether we recognize it or not. The program will explore what requires change or strengthening in our thinking during transition; our unique array of gifts, talents and character qualities that we have as a resource; the values and principles that act as a balast in times of change; and the priorities that are most important to us.

 

Ultimately, transitions, when well met, provide a sense of being fully alive, engaged and empowered for life. A life without transition is dull, boring and tedious.

 

If you are in transition, this program will provide you with the knowledge, skills and support required to meet uncertainty with courage and grace!

 

I hope to see you there.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Happy 32nd Anniversary To My Beauty

Thursday, September 15th, 2011

A full moon poised above the sea
Makes the face of heaven radiant
And brings to hearts that are apart
The poignant pensiveness of night.
I blow out my candle but it is just as bright here;
I put on a coat but it is just as cold.
So I can only read my message to the moon
As I lay me down and long for dreams of you.

 

–Chang Chui-Ling

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Coyote

Sunday, September 4th, 2011

My neighbors, a pack of coyotes that live on the ridge behind the house, are just returning from the nightly hunting expedition. They’re late today. It’s a little after 8:00 am.

 

Must have been some party.

 

These guys are noisy. They howl and howl and howl. I don’t know how many of them are in this pack but there are several.

 

We’ve had coyotes, on and off, for ten years. They arrive, push the foxes out of the territory, and make themselves comfortable. They have lots to eat and an easy lifestyle in these parts. The only danger for a coyote in this part of the city is traffic.

 

That’s right, we’re in the city, fifteen minutes from downtown.

 

In this part of Toronto, you could swear you’re in the country. Indeed, we’re lucky. We are bounded by High Park to the east and Lake Ontario to the south. The critters, and there are lots of them, come down along the waterways.

 

Along with coyotes and fox, we have deer, skunk, possum, the occasional porcupine, and of course racoons. Snapping turtles live at the pond and we are on the migration route for over 400 species of birds, including: warblers, shorebirds, sparrows; great horned owls; turkey vultures; and two red-tailed hawks that live in the back yard most of the year.

 

The Humber River, to the west, is like an animal highway running north to south. The salmon spawn there in the shallows.

 

Other than the racoons, a species given to verbal abuse of its young, the coyotes are by far the noisiest. OK. The hawks are bad too. They cry all day when their eggs don’t hatch. But who can blame them.

 

I see more wildlife in my city yard than I do in the relatively unpopulated Laurentian Mountains. We don’t have moose here yet, or bear, or wolves. But never say never.

 

Our coyotes are different than the western variety. These animals are a coyote-wolf mix. That makes them larger than their western cousins. They can weigh up to 70 pounds and stand about the size of a german shepherd.

 

Pretty big animals. I wouldn’t leave your kids out unattended. Nor your cats and dogs.

 

In traditions of the Southwest, Coyote is a trickster figure. Like Raven, Coyote is seen as an agent of the unexpected. When coyote shows up the message is “expect anything.”

 

Coyote is a teacher of balance. As Ted Andrews points out in Animal Speak, a comprehensive dictionary of totem animals, Coyote teaches us to meet the chaos of life with poise and a sense of humor.

 

Coyote is inteligent, resourceful and adaptable. They cooperate with the close-knit family unit to hunt and the males help rear the young.

 

I guess I’m in for accelerated learning about the difference between wisdom and folly.

 

Lucky me.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

Conflict and Drama

Wednesday, August 31st, 2011

I am no stranger to conflict.

 

Both in my personal life and professionally I have witnessed, been party to and mediated more conflicted dynamics than I care to remember.

 

It’s not that I go out of my way to look for conflict but when it comes to my door I don’t run from it either. No one likes it, unless they are a sociopath.

 

But everyone must learn to navigate the rough waters of interpersonal work as well as the fair. Very often it is in conflict that we learn the most about ourselves and other people, learning that is done in the fires of the full, open, strong and clear heart.

 

Angeles Arrien has mentioned on many occasions that relationship is the highest spiritual discipline and training ground. That training ground is taken to the next level when conflct emerges.

 

For those who are looking to strengthen the heart for deepening relationship–and conflict is one of the doors to deepening– the following resource is a great one.

 

That resource is David Richo’s fine book, How To Be An Adult In Relationships.

 

In the chapter entitled, Struggles Along The Way, he makes an important series of distinctions between conflict and drama.

 

You can find the following on pages 147/48:

 

Healthy Conflict

 

The problem is placed on the table between us, and we see it in
perspective.

 

We explore the situation.

 

We address the issue directly.

 

We express our feelings candidly, taking responsibility for them as our own without blaming the other or feeling ashamed.

 

We are looking for a way to keep the relationship stable, and we don’t use violence.

 

We remain focused on the present issue.

 

We are committed to a bilateral style in processing issues and making decisions.

 

The issue is resolved with an agreement to change something for the better.

 

Both of us are looking for ways of making our relationship better.

 

We fight fairly.

 

We admit mutual responsibility for the problem.

 

We are committed to working things out, but we respect the other’s timing.

 

We try and deal with the issue one-on-one.

 

If necessary, we seek therapy or a support group.

 

We want both of us to grow from this conflict.

 

We let go of our attachment to the outcome we wanted in favor of a resolution we can both live with.

 

We are aware of any complexities.

 

It is acceptable to agree to disagree.

 

We notice, mirror, and feel deep compassion for the other’s pain.

 

We admit it if our behavior is connected to childhood.

 

We acknowledge how our shadow might be involved.

 

Our conflict is love-based, and we want to show the five A’s (attention, acceptance, affection, appreciation, allowing).

 

We are centered in mindfulness.

 

Stressful Drama

 

The problem becomes bigger than both of us; we are possessed by it and lose perspective.

 

We exploit the situation.

 

We sidestep the issue or cover it up.

 

We use invective to dump our feelings on one another or engage in theatrical/histrionic displays meant to manipulate, intimidate or distance the other.

 

We explode, act violently, retaliate, or withdraw sullenly.

 

We use the present issue to bring up an old resentment that contaminates the present process.

 

One of us makes a unilateral or secret decision.

 

The issue remains an open wound with lingering resentment and ongoing stress.

 

One of us has to win and see the other lose.

 

We use cutthroat tactics.

 

We are convinced the problem is entirely the other’s fault.

 

We insist this problem be fixed in accord with our timing, showing no tolerance for time out.

We crowed the stage by bringing someone else or something else in as a distraction (e.g., an affair, drinking).

 

We refuse help or attempt to use it to justify our personal position.

 

We want the other to learn a lesson.

 

We each insist on getting our own way.

 

We see only in black and white.

 

Ambiguity is intolerable.

 

We are so caught up in our own pain we don not see the other ‘s pain, Or we think, “He/she deserves it.”

 

We are adamant that the issue is entirely about the here and now.

 

We see the other’s shadow but not our own.

 

Our drama is fear based, and we have to save face, protect our ego.

 

We are distracted by the mindsets of ego.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.

A New American Revolution?

Friday, August 26th, 2011

Last week I had an interesting conversation with a gentleman who ran for Governor of a border state as an Independent candidate during the last election. Despite losing by a few thousand votes he was convinced that change is in the air.

 

I couldn’t agree with him more. I think the timing is over-ripe for a second American revolution. Here’s why:

 

* There is growing frustration and anger with the two party system. The budget deadlock this month was avoidable and everyone knows it.

 

* Increasingly, the two-party system fails to represent the voter’s interests and caters to the partisan interests of Wall Street.

 

* Even the best intentions of public servants with a commitment to good representation of their constituencies are blocked by power dynamics in both houses.

 

* Fundamentalist politics, as witnessed by the rise of the Tea Party, has replaced public service and threatens to continue to logjam both houses as a means of swinging the public agenda hard right.

 

* Youthquake, the Arab Spring, and the fall of dictatorships has been accomplished on-line and in the street. What was once deemed impossible–the fall of tyrants in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya–was accomplished and has renewed the belief that the populace has enough power to overturn bad government. This is not lost on Americans.

 

* The blame-game by political parties has reached a level of stupidity and destructiveness that sober-minded people are fed up with. Instead of tuning it out , people are looking for ways to permanently change the channel.

 

* The on-line fund-raising breakthrough by President Obama in the last election has made a large financial dent in the party model. Now, independant candidates can campaign and fund-raise without being beholden to party machinery.

 

* Change at the federal level may take a little longer to make. But local, regional and state politics could change much faster than anyone anticipates. That could result in a rising tide of independant mayors and governors, beholden only to those that elected them.

 

It has never been a better time for people of vision and integrity to run for office outside the party system. As I said to my friend last week, perhaps the badge of honor in the next election will be neither Republican or Democrat…. it will be Independent.

 

© Patrick O’Neill 2011. All rights reserved.


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