innermostpresence

July 1981 I am living in an experimental commune in the town of Morwell, just south of Melbourne, New South Wales Australia, I’ve been there for two months, Prince Charles and Diana are getting married on the 29th, it’s a big deal.

I am 24 years old and digging the scene, the terra cotta landscape is sumptuous, the humorous sound of the kookaburra marking it’s territory with a laughing call quickly imbeds itself in memory, the relaxed manner of the Aussie women with their sing song offering, “coffee, tea, milo” I soon learn is a prerequisite for good conversation. Nothing is hurried, days are to be enjoyed, people take an interest in one another, life feels good, right and wholesome.

I was working as a volunteer in a half-way house, owned and operated by some of the members of the commune, it was established as an out-reach program for young adults struggling with drugs and alcohol. Officially I was on staff for meal planning and food preparation, in retrospect I was engaged in lessons in listening. I was learning how to listen with the absence of judgement, to just listen as these young adults struggled to tell their stories.   Each night we gathered together and sat in Council, a question was introduced to the group by a facilitator and each member had the opportunity to respond to it knowing that their offering was safe within the supportive container.

The tradition of Council is ancient and can be traced as a practice from many indigenous cultures, in America the League of the Iroquois, the native peoples of the Plains and Southwestern Pueblos.  Jack Zimmerman an educator on the practice of Council for contemporary western culture, and co-author of The Way of Council, makes this offering, “In council the gateway to the Mystery is listening. We listen in council with more than our ears. We listen with the same awareness a mountain person gives to the wind in the alders or a mother gives to her young child learning to speak.”

Sitting in Council with these young adults, was just the beginning of learning how to listen with the ear of the heart. Human beings hunger to be heard, to be acknowledge, listened to without judgement, to have opportunity to tell their story.

Eventually it was my turn to be listened to, for my story to be coaxed out of its tomb, for my voice to be heard. Like Jesus calling to Lazarus “come out”, John called out to me. A student of psychology and anthropology John and I met at a local bookstore and quickly became friends.

I was sitting with John one day in his living room, the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with his children’s artwork, much of which was abstract finger painting in primary colors and clip art. The atmosphere was relaxed, we were eating kiwis. All at once he looked at me and asked, “what do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?”, I became shy while searching for the right answer; I also wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Before I new it a stark white piece of butcher paper was laid out on the floor before me, he drew a large circle, in the middle of the circle he wrote the word ‘fear’ followed by a line and then a question mark. He looked at me again and asked a second question, what do you fear?  Laughing nervously, I felt ‘busted’ found out, for I feared a lot. To calm my anxiety, he lovingly recited, “there is no fear in love, for perfect love (love that is whole and complete) drives out all fear, for fear has to do with punishment”. I don’t recall if he quoted the biblical reference, but the impact of the relationship between fear and punishment was a profound awakening.

John and I remained in conversation for several hours as we explored the dynamics of these two factors and the stronghold they posses on the human psyche. I acknowledged that my greatest fear was ‘judgement’, being assessed as not good enough, unworthy, not measuring up, not qualifying; the magnitude of such impractical fear is embodied with punishment.  The nature of which restricts, diminishes, binds, imprisons, it inhibits the health and vitality of ones soul to flourish.  Seen as an entity, it cuts off the life source of Love.

I determined this was not the life intended for me, and set out on a quest to conquer my fears. Where and how would I begin? I was already skilled at disguising my fears, a craft that takes energy, how could I re-direct that energy in a way that served my wholeness.

Mystery came like the wind in the alders, mingling with an inner cry, I attuned my ear to deep listening. In that numinous space Mystery informed me, ‘mercy triumphs over judgement’. 

I began to wonder, what would happen if I began to pay attention and listen to the voice of my fears, allowing appropriate spaciousness for them to be heard. What would happen if I listened attentively without judgement, what would happen if I turned toward them rich in mercy. I purposed to find out.

Within time I became disciplined at the practice of journaling, specifically for paying attention to and documenting how fear surfaced in my consciousness and manifested itself in my life. This practice gave me clarity, empowering me to be more in control of the direction of my choices.  For I witnessed how fear of judgement was limiting me, I became familiar with its patterns and ploys of distraction. Eventually it lost it’s stronghold and I could observe my fears more objectively.

Let me not appear haughty here, for I do not mean to suggest I am completely set free from fear, but the practice of approaching fear equipped with mercy sustains my journey towards wholeness.

What would happen if you began to listen attentively with deep compassion and mercy? What would happen if you turned toward your fears and gently coaxed them forward, unburdening them from disguise? What is waiting to be revealed, to be heard?  Purpose to find out. I await your triumph!