Soul Divers Blog

A couple months ago on NPR, there was an interview with an appellate lawyer, David Dow, who represents prisoners on Death Row.  At one point, Mr. Dow described a concept in death penalty juris prudence, referring to a person being “innocent of the sentence”.  This is different then being “innocent of the crime”, which in most cases, Mr. Dow’s clients are not.  What Mr. Dow explains is how a person can be guilty of a crime like murder and be innocent of their death sentence. It’s a fascinating interview, and it really got me thinking.  How many of us bear the burden of a “life sentence” from which, in fact, we are innocent?  Yes, we’ve all screwed up at some point,  but does that mean we are beyond redemption?  Do we deserve a life sentence?  A death sentence?  How liberating would it be to realize that we are not our mistakes.  There is much more to us than some past definition: Perfectionist. Liar.  Addict. Bad Mother. Gossip. Narc. Look deeply.  Go ahead.  Face what you fear.  Look into the mirror.  DO NOT LOOK AWAY.  Keep breathing.  Slow and steady.  Let the tears come.  Keep looking beyond the surface.  Get over the wrinkles, blemishes, and gray.  See them for the teachers they really are.  Breathe and gaze through the layers, back to the light.  A wildly beautiful child is there holding hands with the One older than time.  Welcome home. I invite us all to find one thing we may be feeling guilty about having done or not done (said, or not said).  Now let’s ask ourselves how feeling guilty serves us?  For me, guilt grips with a choke hold.  I can’t breathe.  Now, instead of continuing to punish myself with unloving thoughts, I’m going to learn from the “mistake”.  I’m going to breathe in the gift my perceived error brought.  (Had I not lost my temper, I would not have been given the chance to ask forgiveness and experience its grace, as bestowed by my son’s tender “That’s okay, Mommy, I’m sorry too”, for example.) I’m choosing to learn and grow, not suffer and lament.  Like Rumi urged, I am surrendering who I am for who I could become.  That feels even better than innocence.  That, friends, feels downright miraculous. Life is too damn good to be lived in chains.  Be free.  You got the power.

A friend and I were writing each other about falling in love.  Here’s what I offered: here’s the thing, when we fall in love we fall hard.  it’s big and beautiful and we see things like great grandkids.  every moment is full of symbols and fireworks from the divine.  it’s alive and electric and we crave it like water. it makes for great storytelling and imbues life with a deep meaning and kickass joy. so here’s the thing: the trick is to find that within first. i know it’s not sexy (though it can be - hello!) but first fall in love with yourself and life. get really clear within about what makes you so special, beautiful, talented, wise, kind, creative, and powerful. an amazing spiritual teacher once said, “Who you are seeking is who is seeking”. just sit with that, breathe it in and watch your whole world change.

In response to my last post, a friend emailed and asked, “We resist change?  Isn’t that just being cautious and sometimes responsible?”  Here’s what I emailed back.  (He told me “cut and paste.”  So I did.) Excellent question. Resisting change is simply arguing with reality. It’s our insistence that something that happened shouldn’t have.  As long as we fixate on our belief that it shouldn’t have happened, we remain stuck in the past.  Focused there.  We become unwilling or afraid to change in the way deep inside we know we are being called to. Change is dependable.  We can rely on it. The Buddhists remind us that Nothing is permanent. The ground beneath our feet is always shifting. The question is can we become relaxed and peaceful in the presence of continual change? We can’t hold water and yet that’s exactly what so many of us try to do. We want an absolute.  Something we can trust. Something solid.  In my experience, that can only be ourselves.  With practice, we can return to our true self, our deepest and most authentic self. We can live out of that space and know that no matter what unfolds in our story, we’ll respond to it from a place of indestructible vulnerability and love. That’s the rock that makes us all whole.

The other day my friend, Chris, walked into Frances’ room to give her a little gift.  Frances was supposed to be having “quiet time” (cue laughter).  Chris tells me that as she was opening the door, Frances, who’d been rolling around on the floor humming to herself, sat bolt upright, spit something out of her mouth, and promptly rolled it up into the folds of her t-shirt.  Chris asked her what she’d had in her mouth.  Frances just smiled.  When she jumped to her feet, a nickel fell from her shirt.  And then another one. Apparently, while many of us resist and fear change, our daughter delights in it.  In fact she likes to eat it, as if somehow nourished by change.  Tickled, really.  She actively seeks it out.  How’s that for some poetry.  Kinda gross maybe, but for this mom it’s also super cool.

A friend of mine is writing a book on angels and had asked me if I’d be willing to share some of my experience.  Here’s what I wrote:

Do angels exist?  Yes. Have I ever seen one?  Yes. What was it like?  Watching Sean Penn in MILK or seeing Rickie Lee Jones live.  I just knew I was in the presence of more than I was in the presence of - like when an impossibly high note is hit and held by a gospel singer or a painting recaptures a childhood dreamland.  In that moment, the door of possibility doesn’t just crack.  It swings wide open. There are all kinds of angels, pilgrimage-ing our planet.  Each of us has the capacity and ability to be an angel in another’s life.  Anytime our focus is on someone else and our intention is to help, we literally become an instrument of the divine.  God works his/her grace and mercy through us.  I’ve been on the receiving end of this love many times, whether it’s the kind stranger who holds a door or the nurse who’s bedside manner means more than morphine.  Angels materialize anywhere and everywhere. While in Jerusalem at the age of 30, I found myself in a cafe at 10pm.  I had been guided there from my hotel room.  I followed an intuition that quietly insisted:  go.  I walked in, found a seat at the bar, when suddenly (without my seeing him walk in) an older man, at once ancient and child-like, sat near me, only a stool away.  He had soft-looking white hair, burnt olive skin and eyes a deep ocean blue.  He radiated a serenity and joy I recognized but seldom remember experiencing.  He looked so familiar. “Hello” I said. “Hello” he smiled. “Do I…  (know you),”  I’d wanted to ask. “Yes.” He answered before I’d finished my sentence. “I’m Ashley.” “Yes.”  He nodded gently. “What’s your name?” I asked, offering my hand. “Moses.”  He replied, taking it. We proceeded to sit and share that space for a bit.  This may sound strange, but I didn’t feel compelled to talk with him.  I just wanted to sit by him.  Words weren’t necessary.  I was in the presence of an angel. Though baptized, I had not been raised with religion and, in many ways, I’m grateful.  It allows me to come to the stories and characters of the bible, when I am ready.  Meeting Moses was the beginning of a deep and powerful mystical revelation.  For the next few days in Israel, I basically stopped eating and sleeping, and the entire world cracked open before me like some cosmic egg, every moment illuminated by deep meaning and pure, delicious love.  The universe winked and waved every chance I gave it. I remember sitting in a restaurant with our group of about 15.  There was a swirl of activity amidst the din of patrons’ chatter.  Forks and spoons were clinking, waiters moved about taking orders and reciting specials.  Amidst the cacophony, I sat in an oceanic stillness, enraptured by the glass of water before me.  It was a gift I had not asked for, and it undid me.  Barely could I raise the glass to my mouth.  It was as though all the secrets of creation were revealed in that solitary cup. Maybe this sounds crazy. Some people thought so and I was hospitalized, diagnosed mentally ill, and prescribed a lot of medications.  It was a confusing time because I thought I’d awoken at last, only to discover I’d been thrust deeply inside a nightmare.  But, angels illuminate the dark and it was there that I found a path home to my true self.  It has taken years to walk, but what was once a desperate crawl, has evolved into a thrilling climb back up the mountain, of my own clear-eyed truth. My beloved corgi, Sydney, waddled patiently and exuberantly by my side through 12 years of growth, marriage, and children.  He licked my tears in the dark and got me out of bed in the morning.  He never complained or judged.  His love was unconditional.  Of all the pharmacies, psychiatrists, and psycho-pharmacologists, no one was more “full of medicine” than my Sydney.  He was an angel on this earth and, though his body is no more, his gentle being infuses all I do. Although I didn’t always, I cherish my Israel experience.  The very thing that appeared to illicit a complete “breakdown” actually planted the seeds of an inevitable “breakthrough”.  Powerful and creative though they may be, I believe our minds are not the foundation of our existence.  I am not defined by my thoughts.  I am capable of much more than I think and, when I connect with that deeper truth, I begin to experience the angel within.  Her capacity to love and heal astounds me.  She radiates a breathtaking peace and fearless love.  And, when I am able to put my life in her hands, I transcend my own limitations and experience life’s deepest joys.  I marvel at the mystery and revel in its truth: I am my own miracle. We all are.