A Vivid and Life-Changing Dream and the Juxtaposition of Atonement and Work

This week as I've been at the hospital recuperating from Afib, one of the medicines I was taking was giving me very vivid dreams. One particular night I had what I can only describe as an "end of life dream". I have never had a dream like this so I will share it as articulately as possible. 

I was seeing scenes from my life play out. These were not full blown memories, more like vignettes.  I was aware of an ocean-like "rolling" around me as I watched these pieces and I (present me) was not "in camera" so to speak. The vignettes were displayed in a tear-drop shaped vessel of some sort and they were very brief and very very fast. 

The pleasant moments came first, at lighting speed. Some of the ones I remember now are: holding each of my children for the first time, being at Astro-World with Paul, laughing uproariously with each of 3 best girl friends, my kids being in a play at church with 2 other dear families, the way my daughter's eyelids made perfect half-circles. I was riding the train to Silverton, my head out the window; I was looking at bear in Yellowstone, I had a giant spiral lollipop from Deadwood, South Dakota; It was Christmas and Santa left a doll named Carol with a trunk of clothes, I am in England walking on a public path, listening to music, grieving and healing, I saw flashes of many of my mentors and teachers, I saw a little student who died in 2020 - he was running toward the class on the playground and his face was lit up from within. My last moments with my dad; days and days of last moments with my sister in law. There were more and more and more; and if any of these are familiar to you, as well, you know some have their losses and sadness attached to the events -- but hear this: There was no tinge of sadness as I witnessed these tiny glimpses, only the purest joy. 

Writing that phrase, "the purest joy," I remember how easy it is to let guilt or anger pull us into dramatic behavior that inhibits or blocks the joy. As I think about my dad's death, I could easily lapse into anger at God or regret for not spending more time with him every day or . . . or . . . or. I'm going to give that temptation to misery a name: it's mindtalk. You know, when you're watching your child sing at school, or do ballet, or take those precious first steps and the mindtalk comes in and you start thinking how they grow up too fast, or someone else's song was longer; on and on and on and suddenly your joy has a tinge of sadness or regret or resentment. 

The "Not That"

This moment was not that. There was nothing but joy and love. So much, so many moments so incredibly fast, but because it was a magical dream, I could extensively experience every single moment to it's complete and maximum fullness. Full is the right word, too - how full I was. I was standing tall, my vision glued on the display, my shoulders soft, my face and eyes wide open; I was simply breathing and experiencing. It was expansive.

I remember feeling the ocean rushing around me, pulling at my ankles and legs, my toes sinking deeper and deeper into the sand beneath. I could feel the wind whipping my hair in and out of my eyes and the tears streaming down my cheeks as I witnessed hundreds (?) thousands (?) of these twinklings.

It ended and seamlessly the other memories began. For lack of a better word at the moment, I'll call these troubling memories. These I remember even more vividly. There was the time as a child I broke some crystal my mom was returning to a neighbor, the first time I lied to a friend I did not want to play with, fighting with a sibling, knocking the "paddleboard" behind the stove so mom couldn't find it. Those childhood infractions were there of course but moreso, it was the adult things - lying to a prospective date, standing someone up, cheating, throwing a rock at the neighbor's dog, not offering a hug to a crying child, frowning at another parent in a grocery store, being impatient with my children -- there were many of those, driving past a person begging, walking past a person begging, refusing to forgive quickly,/holding onto a resentment, not wanting to make an expected phone call, being to much in a hurry to stop and greet someone, mess, waste, loss. Interestingly, there were a few I would not objectively consider "transgressions," necessarily. For instance there was not taking a job offered by a trusted friend, not accepting help from my boss as a young single woman, oh so many times I was grumpy, times I withheld information about my own needs, times I skipped my "quiet times," my knitting untouched for months, my daughter's skirt unmended. There was the time I gave up on communication when a friend in pain wasn't taking my calls, not calling a parent whose student shone that day, not sharing a treasured item and so many times I did not notice myself withholding love and on and on and on. 

Here is what was truly amazing about this part of the display. While I needed to label this section to portray it to you and while it was clear to me -- absolutely -- how these images differed from the first, at no time did I feel guilty or sad or remorseful or angry or even particularly surprised. I am only now experiencing surprise as writing has helped me remember what I saw. In my body, I felt like a young child. I was standing there in the surf as the waves frothed around me, more urgently now, and I was just as calm as before. I was perfectly still and whole, simply taking it in for what it was, not in surrender but in absolute acceptance and yes, wonder. This was the past, my past. I was there not as judge or penitent, but as witness. 

Inside the Teardrop

Quite suddenly, the display was over and I was somehow inside that teardrop. I was on the floor - the place of prostration - and the wishes or prayers or thoughts (but not words) were rushing from me unhindered. It was a mix of things coursing out and I have the notion that I addressed each image. Again in the magical mix of technicolor dreaming, I was somehow addressing several things at once yet separately. There was an apology for one thing at the same time (or nearly) as gratitude for another; a commitment to be different or more at the same time as love was expressed. It is fair to say it rushed from me and yet there was no rush in it; perhaps it was more the quantity of what I expressed that makes "rushed" the right term as well as "flowing." The tap was on and the fitting response flowed straight from me. 

When I woke up, lying there in the fragile expanse between awake and asleep, I first thought I had just atoned for all my sins.  However, later, as I started remembering more and more of what was displayed, and remembered my responses (which were still not words so much as "intentions") what became clear was that these displays were all the "work" I have yet to do. In some ways, it is the the opposite of atonement, which implies both forgiveness and finishing. It was, quite clearly, a call to action.

It was the most cleansing moment I have ever experienced. Whereas, before, during the display, I was both full and fulfilled, now I was empty -- as empty could be -- but without the loss so often associated with emptiness. It was more purifying than a process or retreat or confession. I was hungrier than I have ever been - a very physical hunger - but without the desperation. Here's the best example I have so far: it was similar to having had a amazingly hard and thorough workout and then a shower, and finally that very unique and pleasant experience of being clean, accomplished, empty and hungry at the same time. 

Can you see it? What do you think of this experience? Yes it was a dream, but it did come from my brain! I'd love some feedback on this wild ride. 

It was the most holy experience of my life. What happens now remains to be seen . . .

Stay tuned. 

Righting Some Wrongs

A few weeks ago, I started to write a post about the things we do in childhood and our young adult life that we regret as we become wiser. Strange how these childish things stick with us, isn't it? Those little mistakes we made make us wonder, do the people we hurt remember us? Does it sting, still?

I started thinking about all the kids I hurt growing up and as I thought about these people, I started looking them up on Facebook.  I was shocked to learn that one of my highschool friends had died the night before in horrific car accident. He was with his wife, traveling home from the baptism of his youngest grandchild; a tragedy. It was a sombering moment, to say the least.

Rather than write a tongue-in-cheek post about all the silly things I did growing up, I've chosen another course. We cannot undo our past. I cannot go back and un-hurt the people I've hurt. There are avenues of growth, however.

In some cases, we can right the wrongs of our past. If the people we've hurt are still living, we can seek them out and genuinely apologize. The "wrongs" are often not the things we did, but what we did or did not do directly afterward. Perhaps we did not show remorse, we didn't apologize, we didn't try to make up for our actions. The odd and awkward part of this, is sometimes people don't remember what we did and aren't holding it against us. You have to make a judgement call as to whether tracking down someone you haven't seen since 2nd grade is the most helpful thing to do.

Perhaps equally valuable, if not equally important, is to handle our own thoughts about our past mistakes. For example there is a lot of difference in motive, intention, and blame about my role in someone else cutting their own hair in 2nd grade versus my unkind and callous handling of a break up when I was 17.

We learn from our past when we are willing to look honestly at it and without judgement;  there are treasures there. When I look at that break-up, I remember a couple of life-shock moments that were the catalyst to that event. Those moments point to one thing: I did not believe I was worthy of love. If I had a chance to tell that old flame anything today, I would of course apologize for my appalling behavior but I would also thank him. I would thank him for being the deliverer of the wake-up call that there was, in me, someone loveable and desirable. It was important to hear it even though, at the time, I fended it off.

Sometimes the mistakes we made in our past are simply there to remind us we are human and to teach us how to forgive ourselves.Sure it would be great if everyone we wronged forgave us, but what really matters is that grace has been acting in our lives all along  and now we must forgive ourselves.

Your past, my past, can only hold us back if we let it. We can and should ask forgiveness if appropriate (or even make restitution) but in every case, we can only grow if we look, learn, and let go. Right your wrongs to straighten your path forward but don't forget to look in the mirror while you do it. You will be the richer for it.

Growing a New Mindset

I've been doing some reading lately on Cognitive Behavior Theory and how that interplays with new research being done through brain imaging.*  It's a little complicated for a lay person to untangle, but what it seems to come down to is this:  It's easier to change our behavior than to change our mind.  People, it appears, really do have a "mindset."  This mindset applies to almost every area of our lives.  We are probably all aware that we have a mindset about right and wrong, good and bad, but we also have a mindset about subtle things too, like which things are delicious and which colors are pretty.

Look at forgiveness, for example.  Do you remember when you were a child and a sibling or close friend hurt your feelings in some (to you) terrible way and your parents told you to forgive that person?  Can you remember how completely crazy and foreign that idea sounded?  To children, the "black and white" of "right and wrong" is as true and absolute as the notion that the sun will both rise and set each day.  It's only with age and experience that the black and white of right and wrong begins to gray and blur at the edges.  Forgiveness is a fascinating platform for investigating our mind-behavior interaction.

Also fascinating is how our cognition effects us when we want to change our behavior in some way.  For example, last year, I lost 45 pounds or so.  Then I plateaued for 10 months and am only now managing to lose again.  Research has repeatedly shown that most weight loss plateaus are caused by "lessened effort" as opposed to metabolic causes.  Therefore, I had to examine the root cause of my reduced efforts.  What I noticed was how easy it is for me to say, "I am too busy to . . ." or "Taking care of this (person or appointment) is more important than ( my food plan or my exercise)" or "Eating a special diet is too (blah, blah, blah). . ." and thus justify my choices. 

This was truly confounding to me.  I am a helpful person.  I'm generous with my time and talents.  I am quick to say "yes" when asked to aid another.  I'm industrious and hard working.  So why am I unwilling to aid myself? 

This is where cognitive behavior theory comes into play.  Ultimately, it is easier to think the way I've always thought than to change my mind.  Relapse is a huge issue for anyone trying to change their behavior.  That's because -- in theory -- it's easier to change your behavior than change your mind.  I've known people who stopped smoking for years, then relapsed in an evening at a bar and starting buying cigarettes again the next day.  Even with all we now know about smoking and our health, in the end, it's easy to justify. At some point, they made it okay for themselves and now "smoking is okay" is the default position.   It's our mindset.  This is why someone suffering from morbid obesity and diabetes can buy and eat that chocolate bar.  This is why the addict relapses.  Understanding the power of the mindset gives me a lot of empathy for people that I might be tempted to judge.

There is good news, however;  If we can change our behavior long enough, we can actually change our minds.  Recent research using brain imagery has documented these changes and it is good news, indeed.*  If you can successfully change your behavior long enough to form a new habit, your mind will start to accept the new norm.  You can actually change your mind and reset the position of that "switch."   The new mindset, however, is quite elastic;  for a long period of time it wants to re-form into the old mold, so vigilance and perseverance become important characteristics for success.

In my every day life it all boils down to this.  For years, I've subscribed to the notion that if I can repeat an action (or avoid repeating it) for 21 times, I can form a new habit.  It appears then, that by forming that new habit I truly can "act my way into right thinking."  The "but" is that it may take longer than I think it should and it may take some effort to keep the new way of thinking in the new shape.   I can live with that!

*Footnote: I don't have many references to share with you for either the brain imaging or the Cognitive Behavior Theory because I was not thinking about blogging as I was reading and absorbing it!  However, this is an ongoing topic of interest, so as I come across references for these things later on, I will come back and add in some links here.