Thursday, September 20, 2007 at 12:12am
The beginner's mind
Column: wavelength
Sometimes I get a little jaded about conferences and workshops. For years, they were the be-all and end-all of my days. I loved the new learning from the big names on the circuit. My focus was, and still is — with changing emphasis — psychology, energy medicine, spirituality and healing.
In retrospect, I think I must have spent a good 10 years of my life aggressively pursuing all these assorted workshops, intensives and conferences in an effort to be au courant, topical and cutting-edge. I had that need to know - know the material, the new "important" books as well as the personalities presenting the latest material.
Now I am older, more tired and less motivated to go hear someone's new stuff. As the saying goes, I feel I have been there, done that and bought the T-shirt. It feels as if there is not so much new under the sun; it all seems repackaged and reformulated or, at the very least, a distillation of several schools of thought.
And I find that I am drawn to the simpler ways; complicated methodologies that have my mental juices flowing don't do it for me anymore. I find that I really resonate with the experiential. As much as I love language, I can overdose on verbiage; I need to feel the magic.
Now, all of that said, what is rather hilarious is that I am now - occasionally - on the speakers' side of the room. In fact, that is the only way I will attend a conference these days. If I get the opportunity to present, then I will happily show up.
So, here is my tale:
The gods are good to me, and I am afforded the opportunity to attend and present at this year's UK gathering of the Society for Shamanic Practitioners, a three-day residential conference in rural Somerset County.
I have to admit I have a bit of an attitude about going to the conference this year. Three days seems awfully long, especially as I thought last year's day and a half conference was a bit protracted. However, I said yes, and off I go.
My adventure begins with an offer of a ride from London to the conference by another attendee, a soft-spoken Scottish woman who exudes a warrior-like strength. As we speed down the M4 motorway, we swap stories. This woman has worked with the native healers, curanderos, in Mexico, shamans in Africa and Tibet, an avatar in India and so forth. I am certifiably dumbfounded and awed by her vast and wondrous experiences. And I am full of questions, one of which is the obvious: "Why aren't you presenting at this conference?"
As my question bounces around the interior of the car, I realize with resounding, thunderstruck clarity that I have been handed a golden opportunity here. I am being reminded to adopt what the Zen Buddhists call "the beginner's mind." I am pushed to be open and receptive, like an empty teacup. So much for being smug and self-satisfied; there is gold to be shared and wise tea to be drunk. I am ready to belly up to the bar and have my cup filled.
And, boy howdy, was my cup filled.
The conference was awash in ritual; those special moments when the Divine is intended and honored and called in to animate healing, healing that cuts across a wide swath of definitions.
There were healing ceremonies with a Tibetan shaman, a delightful man named Bola who is the 27th generation of shamans in his family. There were opening and closing pipe ceremonies, an evening fire ceremony that welcomed cigars, bawdy jokes and songs and workshops on various approaches to use and interpret the sacred wheel of life.
My personal favorite was learning a Viking shamanic practice called a Seidr (pronounced side), where, as one of three volunteers, I sat at the high table and responded to questions in an oracular fashion after being sung into trance by the community. This was a fabulous experience for me; I felt like I had come home.
Additionally, for this Seidr, I needed a staff, and my new Scottish warrior-friend lent me hers, a gift from the Maori, which vibrated in my hands. And I was vibrating by the time we concluded. Who knew that a Texas-born, Irish-Catholic type could feel so at home with the Vikings? I think I may need one of those conical breastplates and horned helmets for sure. I love sitting at the high table.
My workshop was totally experiential; it was a shamanic healing circle held in a tepee, complete with a log-burning fire. It was quite the setting and quite the experience for me. All of our energies coalesced into a powerful and meaningful morning. And, wouldn't you know, I had to come to England to enter my first tepee
Even the conference accommodations at a rural holistic center called for my beginner's mind to stay open and be flexible. I stayed in the converted piggery; it had electricity, but no water. Others stayed in caravans, camped, stayed in converted cow sheds, dorms in the main building or B&Bs in neighboring Glastonbury.
Across the path from my room, there was the English equivalent of the Portapotty, a "portaloo," liquids only; the solids "portaloo" was down in the fields. There were two shower heads and a not-in-use hot tub with large plate glass window that served as the shower. My conference roommate, Jean, said, "It is better than camping." Jean was annoyingly right, but, then again, Jean was a Queen's Guide, a kind of uber-Girl Scout, and my idea of camping is pulling the mattress out into the living room.
The thing about this beginner's mind is that you get filled in unexpected ways. Everything is new; there is nothing familiar to hold on to as you ride the waves of the new experiences. And ride, I did.
I walked away from this conference feeling a bit like the large green plants growing out of the ceiling of our main meeting room. I was full of life, growing in a seemingly opposite direction as a verdant spiral with my roots swinging by my head. In other words, everything was upside down, and I was filled with the good, green juices of life. No worse for wear, and certainly far better for the experience.
And, like everything about this adventure, I was filled in ways I didn't know I needed to be filled.
That beginner's mind certainly came in handy. My cup is full.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
In retrospect, I think I must have spent a good 10 years of my life aggressively pursuing all these assorted workshops, intensives and conferences in an effort to be au courant, topical and cutting-edge. I had that need to know - know the material, the new "important" books as well as the personalities presenting the latest material.
Now I am older, more tired and less motivated to go hear someone's new stuff. As the saying goes, I feel I have been there, done that and bought the T-shirt. It feels as if there is not so much new under the sun; it all seems repackaged and reformulated or, at the very least, a distillation of several schools of thought.
And I find that I am drawn to the simpler ways; complicated methodologies that have my mental juices flowing don't do it for me anymore. I find that I really resonate with the experiential. As much as I love language, I can overdose on verbiage; I need to feel the magic.
Now, all of that said, what is rather hilarious is that I am now - occasionally - on the speakers' side of the room. In fact, that is the only way I will attend a conference these days. If I get the opportunity to present, then I will happily show up.
So, here is my tale:
The gods are good to me, and I am afforded the opportunity to attend and present at this year's UK gathering of the Society for Shamanic Practitioners, a three-day residential conference in rural Somerset County.
I have to admit I have a bit of an attitude about going to the conference this year. Three days seems awfully long, especially as I thought last year's day and a half conference was a bit protracted. However, I said yes, and off I go.
My adventure begins with an offer of a ride from London to the conference by another attendee, a soft-spoken Scottish woman who exudes a warrior-like strength. As we speed down the M4 motorway, we swap stories. This woman has worked with the native healers, curanderos, in Mexico, shamans in Africa and Tibet, an avatar in India and so forth. I am certifiably dumbfounded and awed by her vast and wondrous experiences. And I am full of questions, one of which is the obvious: "Why aren't you presenting at this conference?"
As my question bounces around the interior of the car, I realize with resounding, thunderstruck clarity that I have been handed a golden opportunity here. I am being reminded to adopt what the Zen Buddhists call "the beginner's mind." I am pushed to be open and receptive, like an empty teacup. So much for being smug and self-satisfied; there is gold to be shared and wise tea to be drunk. I am ready to belly up to the bar and have my cup filled.
And, boy howdy, was my cup filled.
The conference was awash in ritual; those special moments when the Divine is intended and honored and called in to animate healing, healing that cuts across a wide swath of definitions.
There were healing ceremonies with a Tibetan shaman, a delightful man named Bola who is the 27th generation of shamans in his family. There were opening and closing pipe ceremonies, an evening fire ceremony that welcomed cigars, bawdy jokes and songs and workshops on various approaches to use and interpret the sacred wheel of life.
My personal favorite was learning a Viking shamanic practice called a Seidr (pronounced side), where, as one of three volunteers, I sat at the high table and responded to questions in an oracular fashion after being sung into trance by the community. This was a fabulous experience for me; I felt like I had come home.
Additionally, for this Seidr, I needed a staff, and my new Scottish warrior-friend lent me hers, a gift from the Maori, which vibrated in my hands. And I was vibrating by the time we concluded. Who knew that a Texas-born, Irish-Catholic type could feel so at home with the Vikings? I think I may need one of those conical breastplates and horned helmets for sure. I love sitting at the high table.
My workshop was totally experiential; it was a shamanic healing circle held in a tepee, complete with a log-burning fire. It was quite the setting and quite the experience for me. All of our energies coalesced into a powerful and meaningful morning. And, wouldn't you know, I had to come to England to enter my first tepee
Even the conference accommodations at a rural holistic center called for my beginner's mind to stay open and be flexible. I stayed in the converted piggery; it had electricity, but no water. Others stayed in caravans, camped, stayed in converted cow sheds, dorms in the main building or B&Bs in neighboring Glastonbury.
Across the path from my room, there was the English equivalent of the Portapotty, a "portaloo," liquids only; the solids "portaloo" was down in the fields. There were two shower heads and a not-in-use hot tub with large plate glass window that served as the shower. My conference roommate, Jean, said, "It is better than camping." Jean was annoyingly right, but, then again, Jean was a Queen's Guide, a kind of uber-Girl Scout, and my idea of camping is pulling the mattress out into the living room.
The thing about this beginner's mind is that you get filled in unexpected ways. Everything is new; there is nothing familiar to hold on to as you ride the waves of the new experiences. And ride, I did.
I walked away from this conference feeling a bit like the large green plants growing out of the ceiling of our main meeting room. I was full of life, growing in a seemingly opposite direction as a verdant spiral with my roots swinging by my head. In other words, everything was upside down, and I was filled with the good, green juices of life. No worse for wear, and certainly far better for the experience.
And, like everything about this adventure, I was filled in ways I didn't know I needed to be filled.
That beginner's mind certainly came in handy. My cup is full.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © Copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.