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February 2006In this Issue: |
I'm not sure how I feel about Valentine's Day and other commercially-based holidays. They seem to make many people feel uneasy and inadequate. Folks can make the mistake of giving away parts of themselves in order to find or get love. In a profound book called “Love and Other Difficulties” the ecstatic, and somewhat tortured poet, Maria Rainer Rilke talks about how our experience and all spiritual development/practice is merely preparation for the great work—that of loving another person. I think that Rilke is making a heart-felt observation. Keep a smile on your face if you’re trudging the fruitful road of standing in love, and if you’ve fallen in love, I hope you find your feet again. The next issue of Be the Change will be in April.Warmly, Sean Casey Leclaire
If you'd like to share this issue with a friend, they can view the newsletter online at http://www.seanleclaire.com/ezine/. If you'd prefer not to receive future issues of Be The Change, click the Unsubscribe link at the bottom of this message. STIRRING THE PORRIDGEMy mother called it “stirring the porridge” love. For forty-two winters, in the same house, she stood, cramped by the early morning kitchen cold, her shoulder closest the porch window curled inward; trusted wooden spoon in her right hand, she stood, sometimes happily, sometimes mad, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, often laughing, always married, to the same man. She stood at the same vinyl kitchen counter each morning, drinking brewed coffee, stirring my father’s porridge. “Love is like porridge, son. You stir, you wait!” Stir and wait, she’d say to me whenever the difficult topic of commitment and enduring love came up. This morning, I thought of my mother and father, while my girlfriend and I prepared to make breakfast. As I approached the kitchen after our yoga practice, she asked, “Could we have that great 8-grain porridge you made the other day?” I said sure without a thought. Preparing breakfast for her and I, an image of my mother in her kitchen apron, stirring the porridge, entered my being, and I was once again a wild teenager, seated opposite my father at the dining table, wondering, puzzled, at how the hell did they do it… find so much joy in the simple things of life, like stirring porridge, every morning. It was their winter morning ritual. There were a few things wrong with how my parents raised my sisters and me; but demonstrating genuine love and devotion for each other was not one of the things they did wrong. My mother and father loved each other in an unrelenting fashion for forty-two years. They argued, but never in front of us kids. My father went so far, once, as to tell me that nothing, absolutely nothing, came before his beloved bride. I was only eleven years old at the time, and I think a man more comfortable with his son, would have kept that piece of insight to himself, or at the very least, between his wife and him. Regardless, my father loved and adored my mother. And she, he. They almost didn’t meet because my father got sick and didn’t show for the first date. Then, when they finally got together, the next week he took off to build bridges in the wilds of Newfoundland for six months. But they wrote letters. Daily! My mother even ventured to the logging camp Dad was stationed at and, no doubt, stirred the porridge for breakfast or fried up the fresh, creek-caught rainbow trout we kids heard about, years later. I have often wondered whether it’s healthy, that is, emotionally appropriate, to adore a person. I mean, adore is above love, best saved for God. I once adored a woman, my first love. I drank too much. I fought too much. I worked too much. I did everything too much. I never stopped long enough to eat breakfast, never mind stir something. My first love left. I suffered. No more adoring! But this morning as I stirred the porridge, I felt my feet flat on the cold hardwood floor. I savored the simple joy of standing and serving my beloved her breakfast. A terrific softness permeated my body. I imagined what it might be like to take care of her, to really care for her—to stand in love—and stir her porridge, not for a day, but for life. My life! We have a challenging, intimate and dynamic relationship filled with intelligent, respectful conversation. And, yes, we fight occasionally. Who the hell doesn’t? We’re emotional equals and rely on each other spiritually; so that when one of us is losing it, the other tends to hold space. Or, if we’re both losing it, we go our separate ways for awhile, circle, come back, and work through our differences. We laugh often, uproariously. We care about many of the same things: Truth, change, beauty, service, adventure, play, creative expression, travel, family and the freedom to be who we truly are. We are opening to Truth together, and individually. She understands that a vital requirement of my job, as a writer, is to be alone. And, that as a performer and an awareness educator, I plumb depths of light and darkness that can scare people; but she knows I must do it. She is teaching me not to push, to sit, and to wait; to stir. I am teaching her that not all men leave. And she doesn’t always have to be the strong one. I’m also teaching her that cheeky and outright boldness have its place. I understand that what she has to say, and how she feels, is important. And, even though I don’t always like it, she grounds me. I walk differently when I am near her. I feel the soft, forgiving, moist earth. My mother once said to me, as only a mother can, “Son, I imagine that for any gal who has loved you; it must have been a lot like living on the tail of a kite!” My companion and I are learning to stand in love, as awkward and terrific as that can be at times. I have suffered enough to know that “falling in love” is for the resilient young and—adults who won’t grow up. It dawned on me, standing in the kitchen, while stirring the porridge, that what my mother and father, each in her and his own way, had been saying to me all these years, was that “stirring the porridge” was their metaphor for standing in love. And they lived into it for forty-two years. They are both gone now, but much of what they taught me returns. Thank God. Parents say all kinds of stuff to us, don't they? I'm beginning to listen. "Did you want cinnamon with that porridge, darling?"BODY-CENTERED BREAKS (BCBs)The Body-Centered Break is a body-focused inquiry and awareness meditation lasting only two minutes and done whenever and wherever you are in your day. Benefits as described by coaching clients include: calmness of mind, overall sense of well-being, sharpened mental focus, reduced anxiety, increased ability of autonomous nervous system to recover rapidly from stress, and an increased capacity for learning. CLICK here for an audio-guided BCB at any time you feel the need to slow down and center into yourself. Enjoy the Benefits NOW! HeadRest Radiate QuietMind SteamValve SHARED WISDOMLove is a one-way street. Mr. Goenka POEMFRUIT My breath inside her She eats me like juicy red raspberries. We are ripening Sean Casey Leclaire INQUIRYIf my love were an animal, what would it be? WONDERINGDo I love him the way he is, and isn't?EVENTS AND WORKSHOPSMen's Meditation and Mindfulness Group Living Life on Purpose Honoring Father: A Gathering of Whole-Hearted Men Call Sean at 978-369-8286 or email sean@seanleclaire.com with any program content questions. |
Now until March 15, new clients can benefit from an introductory life coaching offer: Three months of coaching for $799. All I ask for this (40% savings) is that new clients make a $79 donation to a men’s or women’s shelter in the town that they live in.
Luminosity Studio,
© 2006 Sean Casey Leclaire, all rights reserved. |
