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Markers

I sat down to write a blog tonight thinking, “this will be the last blog I write before we hit the solstice. The next time I sit down to write, the earth will have started back towards the center of that peculiar little wobble that creates the seasons.” And I’ve passed this point now many times, so I have some expectations about what will likely happen next. Days will slowly begin to get longer and brighter and warmer.  Any day now I will stop eating every piece of junk set down in front of me. Soon I will have begun to return to a reasonable exercise schedule. My body, my mood, and the days will lighten and brighten.

I remember being at this same desk at this time last year, sitting down to write a solstice blog, one I called Into the Darkness. And like passing the same signpost on the highway every day on the drive into work, the solstice functions like a marker, inviting me to ask, “where was I the last time I passed this same spot? What has changed? What has remained the same? What might happen next?”

Markers can be powerful tools in spiritual practice, and we use them in every day life without thinking about them. For example, that old charming custom in some families of making a mark on the kitchen wall to record a child’s growth: get the child to stand at the same place on the wall, every birthday, make a pencil mark, and you can easily see what has changed since the last time that marker went by.

thanksgiving fightSome markers aren’t as fun, but they’re meaningful. Many people who had contentious relationships with their parents as adults go away to college, pat themselves on the back at how far they’ve progressed, and then go home to a holiday meal only to have an argument erupt at the table that comes right out of the junior high school playbook. Suddenly, you’re in seventh grade, even though you’ve been away from home for four years.

“Conversations with family at the holiday table” are a kind of marker; we do them over and over again, every year. For some, the moment when we can get through the holidays at home without experiencing the urge to maim or kill represents a moment of great progress, and it’s the marker of the holiday–finding ourselves in the same place, same time, but as different people–that allows us to “measure” how far we’ve grown, and appreciate it. The first time we can get through a meal without wanting to strangle mom and dad can have a moment of, “look! I’ve grown three inches since last year!” quality to it. And of course the holidays bring all sorts of markers of positive experience, too: happy reunions and reaffirmations of longstanding, meaningful relationships.

man-runningUsing markers is one of many ways to enhance our mindfulness and awareness of ourselves, and the bigger context and container in which we live. Many people have a number of morning markers they use. I’ve mentioned rituals around the morning cup of coffee–many people pass this point, the same marker, every morning, and consciously or unconsciously use it to reflect on, “and how is today the same as, or different from, yesterday? How have I changed?” Some people go for a run every morning–they do it almost without fail, even in the pouring rain. The run serves as a marker, a way of establishing a fixed, constant point against which we can understand our experience of ourselves and notice the ways in which we are changing, and how we are staying the same. Markers give us useful information about our experience.

I lived in Manhattan around the turn of the millennium, and I remember waking up on the mornings after the 9/11 attacks. There was a moment in waking up where I was just barely conscious, and feeling fine and light and unencumbered, and then there would be a moment as I came into full consciousness where I remembered what happened. At that moment, there was something like a hammer blow to the stomach. I want to say it was an emotion, but it felt too hard in my physical body to call it just an emotion. It was like a strike, like something forceful hit me. It almost made me say, “ouch.” It physically hurt. It came with a kind of heaviness and sadness that I carried then for the rest of the day, but every morning, as I was waking up, there was a little instant, just maybe 20 or 30 seconds, where I was free of that sensation. I would wake up in my light, happy body, the body free of that knowledge somehow, and then memory would hit–that “strike”–and suddenly I was in a heavier, sadder body.

september-9-11-attacks-anniversary-ground-zero-world-trade-center-pentagon-flight-93-firefighters-rescuing_40008_610x343I watched that happen every morning for weeks, pretty much in the same way, and then I noticed one day (it was right around Thanksgiving, as I recall) that it stopped. I stopped experiencing that “strike” of what had happened. It coincided roughly with the moment where we stopped smelling 9/11 in our neighborhood (the fires burned for months afterwards, and the smell was peculiar and specific.) I entered a new phase of working through the loss of 9/11; something shifted, and I could measure that by the way I was waking up to my reality every morning.

Any of you who have gone through a serious grief process about something probably have a similar experience you can reference here. Waking up to morning coffee alone if you’ve been used to being coupled, or coming home to an apartment that used to have a cat but no longer does, you will notice yourself moving through the “marker” experiences in your life, the repeated places, gathering understanding about your experience, seeing where you are, noticing how you’re moving. The markers point us towards our experience.

past-future-signpostsIf you like the idea of markers, you can use them consciously and intentionally for spiritual practice. Take something that happens repeatedly and regularly, like, for example, hearing a cell phone ring. Most of us can’t get through the day without hearing cell phones ring at least once; some people get the opportunity to hear dozens of cell phones ring. Whatever you’re practicing, you can use the cell phone ring.

imgresIf you’re working on being kind, the ring can train you to ask, “am I practicing kindness.” Or mindfulness. Or a reminder to eat more leafy greens, if that is the thing you’re trying to practice, or to avoid gossip at the office. The cell phone ring can invite your Inner Observer to ask you, “how is that gossip thing going?” Or (for many men, this can be a powerful practice) the simple question, “what am I feeling right now?” Particularly in the business place, American men can have a tendency to neglect awareness of their emotions until it’s too late, until the emotions have spilled out into an aggressive or counterproductive behavior.

The drive into work can be a marker; you probably take the same route every day at around the same time. Drives are great for lots of spiritual practices (patience, kindness, the practice of putting the needs of others ahead of your own, etc.)

One of the things that happens in Touch Practice for men on the second or third or fifth pass through is that because the ritual of Touch Practice doesn’t change much, and because the boundaries and the postures remain largely the same, it’s possible for men to notice how their individual experience has shifted, and how they are moving or remaining fixed with regard to their body and physical practice. It’s like working through a yoga sequence where you do the exact same sequence every time you practice, but you’ll notice that your body is quite different on different days, even though the moves remain the same.

hugs-in-armsIt’s important, in fact, for Touch Practice partners who work with each other to understand this–don’t try to make the second or third time any different, but just create the same container, just as we create a holiday meal or brew a morning coffee, trusting that, of course, things will be different. Be prepared to hold the difference, but don’t think you have to create it. In fact, like a holiday meal, in some ways the more you hold to the tradition of “how it has always been done,” the more vividly you will notice how constantly in motion we are as human beings, and how we grow continuously and unpredictably. The kitchen wall doesn’t actually make the kid grow; he grows on his own. The wall is there to witness it. Touch Practice, when we repeat the work over time, is a bit like that.

I wish you happy holidays, smooth and graceful times with family, good amounts of your favorite foods, endurance into these darkening days and hope for the light and warmth that lies ahead. Men come to Touch Practice from many different religious and spiritual traditions, as our workshops have witnessed. For all of you from every faith and belief and practice I send my wishes that this season will be filled with peace, gratitude, and abundance for you and those with whom you celebrate.

Have thoughts you’d like to share?

Touch Practice is a sacred practice for me, and part of that is keeping confidences sacred. While a name and e-mail address are required to post a comment, feel free to use just your first name, or a pseudonym if you wish. Your e-mail address will never be seen by or shared with anyone. It is used to prevent spam and inappropriate comments from appearing in the blog. I’d really like to hear from you!