Finding Meaning

The Power of Presence, Music and Listening

One night in 1945, at the end of World War II, an American soldier’s decision to play his trumpet stemmed–in part–from his ability to pause into the present moment with compassion and empathy. By choosing to play “his love song” for the last remaining German sniper threatening his unit, Col. Jack Leroy Tueller recognized the fear and loneliness common to us all. As a result, the sniper was so moved that he couldn’t shoot, and surrendered the next morning. Now 90, Tueller shares his precious story.

Has there been a time in YOUR life when [in a moment of conflict] you’ve been able to pause and respond from a place of compassion and empathy for the other person’s experience?

Your comments are always welcome!

by Mary Elaine Kiener 4 Comments

7 Foolish Things that Remind Me of Mom

NOTE – this blog post even has some background music [ These Foolish Things – Chet Baker ] to go along with it. So, if you’ve got the sound turned “on”, you might want to click on the above link to listen along while you continue reading.

It had all started in the raspberry patch one morning as I was harvesting the first of the season’s raspberry crop. And during some “across-the-fence” visiting with neighbors, Penny and Marilyn, I happened to mention that it was the first anniversary of my mom’s death.

As I worked my way through the tangle of brambles, enjoying the luscious sweet taste on my lips as I sampled a few of the plump-ripe berries, I remembered how mom would drop everything when presented with a bowl of fresh-picked raspberries. She’d sit quietly, eating them one-by-one, savoring each one while dutifully emptying the bowl of its delights.

As I returned inside, I began to notice even more “foolish” things that daily serve to remind me of mom’s continuing presence in my life:

The glass cruet that mom kept filled with apple cider vinegar. I remember we poured it on sliced, fresh tomatoes in the summer-time and cooked, frozen spinach in the winter-time. I still love the taste of apple cider vinegar – often enjoying a spoonful of Bragg’s raw, organic vinegar in a glass of water.
Speaking of good things to drink, how about the beer mug that mom kept cold and ready in the refrigerator’s produce bin? How mom loved her beer – especially if it included a bowl of peanuts!
And, with the beer, would come mom’s generous laugh. Oh, how I loved her laugh – so full and rich and filled with life. She knew how important laughter is in our lives. And I keep her little plaque in my kitchen window to remind me that “a giggle a day keeps the glums away.”
Yet, for those days when the glums came anyway (whether for her or for someone else) there were always lots of little things around that could bring a giggle or two – or maybe even just a smile. For example, there was always at least one copy of the Reader’s Digest around out in the studio – from where you could often hear one of us kids guffawing as we’d read through the jokes and anecdotes. And as mom grew older, one of my favorite rituals included cranking the nose on the clown music box to make it begin to play “Send in the Clowns.” Looking back, I’m not at all sure anymore whether that ritual ever made her actually “smile” [other than with a smile of toleration for my own silly ritual!]. But I did learn that all it really took to gladden her heart and light up her face with her soul-melting smile was to look up from her chair and see one of her kids or grandkids standing in the doorway of her room.
She was rightfully proud of the family she had grown–or at least I hope we’ve done her proud. As we were growing up, we’d celebrate our birthdays with a cake that she had made, using an iridescent glass plate on which to display it. It wasn’t until years later that I discovered that she had an entire set of those plates, along with a matching serving bowl in the cupboard.
Besides growing people, mom also grew plants–mostly the in-the-house type, like African violets or philodendron or English ivy. And, for a long time (at least when I was a little girl), there were voluptuous sweet potato vines growing in her two matching Roseville “pinecone” vases. A couple of weeks ago, after “baby-sitting” a neighbor’s vine, I decided to give it a try. So far, no roots, but hopes still abound.

So many sweet memories. Isn’t it amazing how such simple things can stir up so many memories?

I appreciate being able to share some of my memories and stories with you – and would love to hear some of yours.

So, what are some of the simple, foolish things in YOUR surroundings that bring back sweet memories of loved ones?

Feel free to leave a comment below, or send me an email.

by Mary Elaine Kiener Leave a Comment

One Breath Bigger

Jennifer Louden recently addressed the idea of becoming “Skillfully Empathetic” – an especially challenging dilemma for those of us who are caregivers. We have huge hearts, and often expect that somehow we must be able to care for everyone else in the world.

In the piece, Jen offered some really insightful perspectives related to boundary-setting, discernment and self-care–as part of her 3 year-long experiment in “Savoring and Serving.”

In addition, Jen shared a wonderful exercise in creating “energy boundaries” from Hiroboga‘s How to Rule Your World:

Ground, center, and be aware of your breath as it flows into your nostrils, flows down into your belly, and flows out of your body again.

Notice how your whole body, including your skin, expands a little when you breathe in, and contracts a little when you breathe out.

Make this a conscious movement now. Expand slightly on the in-breath. Contract slightly on the out-breath.

Now feel your own energy body all around you. Sense into it and notice its quality, its texture, its temperature, weight, density. Is it denser or more diffuse than the air around you?

Feel the boundary of your energy body, like a second skin, all around you—about three to four feet beyond your physical skin.

Scan it, to see if there are areas that feel more or less tangible to you. Are there areas that are so diffuse you can’t feel them at all? Others that are more dense or solid?

As you breathe in and out, let your whole energy field, including the skin of your boundary, expand and contract. Expand with the in-breath. Contract with the out-breath.

Make this a conscious, pumping movement. Flex and extend your energy body the same way that you expand and contract your physical body when you breathe in and out.

Notice if you can now sense the boundary of your energy body more clearly.

Now expand your energy body out further, until it fills the whole room that you’re in. Take your boundary right out to the four walls, the ceiling and the floor of your room.

Stay grounded and centered. If you moved out of center bring yourself back. Center your awareness first in your spine, then in the center of your head, and extend out from there throughout your whole body and into your energy field all around you.

Notice how you feel when your energy field is as big as the whole room.

Release any discomfort or tension down your grounding, and ask the earth to please transform it.

Now bring your energy field in, drawing it gradually closer to you until it is just an inch or two beyond your skin. Continue to breathe naturally, and let your boundary expand slightly with each in-breath and contract slightly with each out-breath.

Even though your field is so close to your body, it is still fluid and flexible.

Notice how this feels.

Then let your energy field expand again until it’s at a distance that feels comfortable and natural for you. Notice what that is for you right now.

As I read through and experienced this luscious exercise (thanks to both Jen and Hiroboga for making this available!), I was intrigued by how beautifully it might nurture the concept of “Self-In-Presence” that I teach as part of Focused Self Care. That is, perhaps becoming more skillful at sensing our boundaries at an energy-based level of body-mind-spirit-oriented knowing would also help us better respond to whatever challenges life brings our way.

For example, I often teach that we need only become “one breath bigger” than our biggest fear to become “Self-in Presence.” Now, with this lovely exercise, once we can become clearer about sensing, recognizing and even shifting ALL of our boundaries – whether it’s our “skin envelope”, our energy body or our energy field – it should be easier for us to become that one breath larger than our most anxious or fearful part.

by Mary Elaine Kiener Leave a Comment

We would be one

I often marvel at how often the hymn tunes we sing on Sunday mornings, or the readings or the sermon reflect so clearly and dearly on issues I’m exploring throughout the rest of my life. [and just now, a part of me went “duh”…..church would be pretty useless if it didn’t relate to the rest of my life!].

Perhaps what I meant to say, was how I love being able to pause, and be reminded of how my life is living itself forward – sometimes quite unknowingly – from a place of inner rightness that only reveals tiny portions of itself at any given moment.

For example, several months ago, I shared a drawing and a poem through which I had begun to explore the concept of

I’m not alone – and it’s not all up to me.

as a means of discovering

a me that’s separate from my work.

Then, as the new year approached, I found myself choosing two themes to carry my living forward through the next 12 months – each of which I now realize flow seamlessly from that earlier piece.

In choosing the first – “exquisite sufficiency” – I’ve borrowed a bit from Buckminster Fuller as a means of more fully experiencing that elusive quality of “enough”. [hmmm – re-reading that sentence, I realize how oxymoronic it is – to more fully experience enough. Ah well, the hour is late, and the year is still young!]

And, as if that 1st theme didn’t promise me enough opportunity for growth, I discovered that a 2nd theme was also choosing ME – that of “community”. Interestingly enough, I had created a mandala drawing (see below) on January 1 – and only a week or so ago realized that in that drawing, I had already created a visual community.

As the year progresses, you’ll be hearing lots more about the various levels of community-building here at ASK ME House. For example, our Virtual Changes group continues to flourish and expand in scope, I’ve recently created a “Kitchen-Table-Circle of Allies“, started hosting a new Meetup group, am developing a formal internship program and will be incorporating an online community component to stresswell™.

And, this morning, as I joined my roomful of spiritual journey companions in song, it all felt so wonderfully (and sufficiently) right!

We Would Be One [1]

We would be one, as now we join in singing,
a song of love to pledge ourselves anew
to that high cause of greater understanding
of who we are, and what for us is true.
We would be one in searching for that meaning
which binds our hearts and guides us on our way.

[1] Words: Samuel Anthony Wright
Music: Jean Sibelius [Hymntune = Finlandia]
© 1933, renewed 1961 Presbyterian Board of Christian Education

by Mary Elaine Kiener 1 Comment

A Focusing Journey – From Muck-Stuck to Playful Mudbath

It had been one of those weeks. I simply couldn’t muster up the energy to greet the work I had wanted and planned to do – let alone face the small mountain of tasks that sat persistently awaiting my attention.

On the one hand, I had LOTS of logical reasons for my lingering ennui. And loads of sympathetic friends who urged me to “give yourself a break, ‘Mar’—you’ve been through a lot this past month.” Yet, as good as all the logic and sympathy sounded, I still felt stuck [and certainly not likin’ much the feel and sounds of THAT place!] and unable to move forward.

A welcome Focusing partnership time offered me an opportunity to “be with” this experience in a different way. That is, instead of thinking or affirming my way out, I chose to pause and attend to that place that Gene Gendlin describes as the “there where” I usually feel things. I could then invite a sense of “what all of this stuckness” felt like. And then, allow myself to be present with the as-yet-unclear sense of all of that. All the while trusting that I would be in that place deep within me from where new steps forward could eventually come.

What follows below is the story of my Focusing process that day.

My first sense is of struggling to move forward (can’t even describe it as walking) through what appears to be knee-deep, dark, thick muck. With both legs stuck in the muck, my upper body feels especially out-of-balance. Ah, yes – that resonates somewhat with how I’ve been feeling this week. And yet, I know there’s probably something more – and I’m curious about what it might be.

With a great tugging effort, I manage to pull one leg upward out of the muck, that brings a distinctive “sucking-up” sound that somewhat resembles an upward-pitched “ch…l…uhrrrrr…p…s”.

With one leg free of the muck, it’s even harder to keep my balance. Then, as I move my free leg forward a few inches to re-enter the muck, the “sucking-down” sensation and sound is present, yet harder to describe. As I start to describe it as something like the opposite of the previous sound “sh…..p…..rrrr…..” I’m suddenly interrupted by a shift in my perceived experiencing.

Oh, it’s not ALL muck after all. The muck appears only ankle deep now, with cool, water that’s becoming clearer as the muck settles and feels refreshing against my lower legs.

Ah, and a memory comes of a shallow river in which I love to relax and be with friends. However, since, in this current scenario, there is “no chair” on which to sit, I choose to sit straight down in the muck.

It feels ok to be here with it. It’s cool and refreshing. Perhaps it will let me understand it better.

Suddenly, I feel-hear a soundless voice that catches my attention, as if with an urgent message – and find myself responding, “Oh, yes, excuse me – you’re telling me you’re MUD, not muck!”

And then a gleeful something inside that offers a playful-serious reminder: “You know, some folks pay good money at health spas for mud-baths!”

And somehow, right now, it feels really good to just sit here, resting, curiously and playfully in the mud and the water.

Oh! – this playfulness is interrupted with a “suddenly-serious-knowing” alert – “I OWN this mud and I’m the one who makes it into the something-serious-about-it-muck-that keeps-me-stuck-and-off-balance. The mud itself is playful, cool and comfortable…..and also rich and fertile.”

As I reflect that back to the mud in which I sit, the mud affirms: “Ah yes. Thanks for hearing that!”

So, I sit playfully in the mud, noticing how much I’m enjoying how the thick wet substance that oozes through my wriggling toes.

And, oh – what’s this? I notice something solid and with substance there between my toes. Not sure what it is yet, but there’s a “knowing” that it might be some kind of buried toy or treasure that my toes have unearthed from beneath the surface of the mud.

Oops—it’s time to go for now. I leave this space with gratitude – for both my body’s wisdom and its process, as well as for my Focusing Companion and her sweet listening and reflections. I know I can (and want) to come back again to this place inside – for whatever new something is there for me to discover and be with. And, for now, I’ll also carry the image of a playful mudbath in my heart and mind as I go through the rest of my day and week.

You might be wondering whether anything changed as a result of this Focusing session. So, here’s a little Focusing-oriented addendum/postscript to the story above:

The morning after this Focusing session occurred, I noticed that I was still carrying some residual ennui-stuckness from earlier in the week.

I paused for a moment to invite a fresh sense of the playful mudbath image. To my surprise, I was greeted by something inside of me that calmly, quietly and resolutely informed me that “I just don’t feel like having to get cleaned up again today, so please give me a break and don’t expect me to get all muddy again today.”

Yet, I’ve also become aware of a respectful sort of rhythmic dance between a gentle forward motion and serendipitous arrivals of new opportunities—that somehow seem designed as invitations for me to play in the mud.

I’ve chosen to share this story with you to help give you a flavor of the kinds of wondrous gifts that can emerge from within a process of Focusing. However, it’s important to remember that no Focusing session is ever the same, and that each Focuser’s own process and stories reflect their individual uniqueness.

And yet, each process (whether my own or a partner’s) always feels a bit “magical” – even though Focusing is actually a skill that each of us already possesses (to one degree or another). Far too often, it’s a skill that we’ve forgotten we have, let alone remember how to best utilize it to help us carry our lives forward.

Would you like to experience a Focusing journey of your own? I’ve provided a couple of options for you at the ASK ME House website:

Felt Sensing Exercises – Here you’ll find mp3 recordings and transcriptions (pdf) for several generic types of situations.
Guided Focusing Session – In a 1-to-1 session, I will gently (and unobtrusively) guide you through your own Focusing process.

Who knows what you’ll experience and insights you’ll gain?

by Mary Elaine Kiener Leave a Comment

Your Mother and My Mother

I LOVE the little synchronicities of life, don’t you?

At 6:36 am on Sunday, July 4, 2010, my oldest brother phoned me with the news that my dear mother, Elaine Kiener, had passed away that morning at 5 am.

At 7:36 am, I received an email (from a Google Group that explores the crossings between Nonviolent Communication and Focusing.

In that email, a colleague shared a poem entitled: Your Mother and My Mother by hafiz.

Fear is the cheapest room in the house.
I would like to see you living
In better conditions.

For your mother and my mother
Were friends.

I know the innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight,
Come to see my verse again tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.

I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you
Pray
Somewhere in this world–
Something good will happen.

God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.

Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie.

Your heart and my heart
Are very, very old Friends.

Such a beautiful poem and message – in its own right.

And yet, even more fitting considering that I had been with my mom a few years before as I watched her NOT die (all within a peaceful sleep), and had also been with her during times of panicked breathlessness. I am so grateful to know that fear was not a companion along her final journey.