"My God, My Tourniquet"

One of the hats I wear is that of a legal interpreter. As I stood in the court room today next to the judge's bench prepared to interpret, I practiced a technique that enables me to navigate the many tragic scenarios relayed in court. I call my practice, "Heart-Centered Breathing." I don't know if this happens to you, but sometimes when I experience something difficult, my breathing catches, almost like I'm holding my breath. The "walling-off," as I've learned to recognize it, seems like a subconscious contraction, as if I'm resisting the experience. Consciously breathing from my center where I notice the restriction helps me recognize my reaction while providing a gentle and effective remedy. Here's the practice: simply breathe in from the heart and breathe out through the heart.

Recently, equipment has measured the heart's electrical frequency 18 feet from the body. My theory is that our energetic influence is even more expansive, but as of yet we don't have equipment sensitive enough to pick up beyond 18 feet. The brain's electrical frequency is measurable about 2 inches from the skull. Our bodies electrical impulses have been proven to affect the electrical impulses of others, and most people's heart and brain rhthyms will come into synchronization within a few moments of being in each other's sphere of influence.

The day I was preparing this article for post, I saw a friend of mine who I hadn't seen in a few years. When I asked her what was new, she told of a horrible car accident that had left her in constant pain and unable to do her trade. I looked at her young, sweet face and was reminded to breathe. My brain with its judgment and problem-solving (and puney 2 inch influence!) disengaged and my heart opened to the moment. We had a nice talk and she instantly reached out for a gentle hug (heart-to-heart, I might add...hmmm.) Is it enough to just breathe? I find it's a first step, almost like a tourniquet that stops the wound from getting worse. But sometimes one can't "just breathe" for the pain is sustained, like in the instance of my above mentioned friend; "just breathe, just leave the tourniquet on," isn't realistic. What then? This question has inspired part II of "My God, My Tourniquet." Please stay tuned.

Haloed Tree

I woke at 5:20am this morning to work a very early assignment. Afterwards, I went to a local mountain view and the muse hit me....bam! I love when that happens. I hope your day starts and ends as beautifully as mine did:

Haloed Tree

©Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

You are why I rise so early,

crawl from beneath warm covers

to stand in still-dark morning

and wait with arbor patience

for first rays 

to set ablaze

my outstretched limbs.

Fly on the Wall

I’m home from San Francisco. One specific story stands out as a must-tell and strangely bizarre reflection of my visit. If you live near San Francisco, you might have heard of an infamous character named, "The Bush Man." Before I departed, a friend warned of a homeless man who was hiding behind fake bushes and attempting to scare the bejesus out of San Francisco tourists. I expressed hoping to see him so I could observe people’s reactions. My wish was granted. I got to see The Bush Man up close and personal at Fisherman’s Wharf, his location given away by a blood-curdling female scream. As soon as I heard the commotion, I thought, “Bushman!” and turned to see a scrawny, black scarecrow-of-a-man shaking leafy tree limbs while doing a little dance of joy for a group of bewildered tourists.  It’s important you know about this coyote-character, for it sets the stage for my story. After watching The Bush Man exchange, my family and I crossed the street and went into the Boudin Bakery, each exiting with a fresh mini loaf of butter-crusted bread. We walked down the sidewalk, ripping off chunks of warm bread and savoring our bagged loafs. Up ahead an old man hung over the rail while gazing out to sea. Perhaps enticed by the smell of fresh bread, he revived and turned to us while holding out his hand and mumbling something incoherently. We gave the man a wide girth as we passed, and he despondently swung back around to his perch. I immediately felt like a greedy cuss and walked back to the man, offering my loaf as a sort of peace offering. He startled and then smiled a straight-toothed smile and said clear as a bell, “I’m fine, keep your bread!” He looked at me with eyes no longer glazed in ‘drunken stupor’ and asked, “Where are you from?” in a tone implying I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I gave the name of my small mountain town (I’m pretty sure I blushed.)  He smiled still broader, “Don’t fall for that ‘I’m hungry’ crap!” In all honesty, I’m ashamed to admit my first reaction was annoyance at having been tricked. In the next breath however, my bruised ego registered that this old man was not homeless, drunk, desperate or hungry (so I suspected from his obvious transformation). I smiled and said, “I’m glad you’re satisfied. You know how to pick ‘em don’t you?” He laughed and repeated his advice before turning back to the sea, “Don’t fall for it!” 

Compassion is one of my North Stars, and I got hoodwinked by a pretend homeless man, how ironic is that! What the heck was the point? Here’s the lesson I took away from the fako-drunk-homeless dude:  compassion has no limits and if genuine, desires no suffering even for an ego boost or sicko-fly-on-the-wall thrill. My San Francisco insight is a bit polly-anna-ish but helps me see my personal limitations to practicing radical, uncompromising compassion without exception. Thank you, Old-Man-Fly-on-the-Wall, for bringing the Mountain Bumpkin under the microscope and into a position of observation.

Goes Around, Comes Around

As I get ready for a trip to San Francisco with my family, I find myself thinking of a poem I wrote and thought to share it. The poem reminds me of Charting our Course to our North Stars, the idea of Karma and the importance of informed action and intention. Adventure awaits and I look forward to connecting when I get home. May this offering prime the pump....

Goes Around, Comes Around

©Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

Going on a journey.

Suitcases are packed.

Protecting everything familiar,

I lock my door

and walk to the station.

Window beckons, “open for business.”

Idling bus sputters in irritation,

awaiting my decision.

Money changes hands.

Ticket is mine.

“Step on up,

hold tight!”

Baggage taken,

tossed below,

sinks into dark recesses.

Outside the rain streaked window,

I see a man

dirty and poor.

He’s out of sorts,

not playing by the rules.

Do I step from the bus,

where might that road lead?

No one’s holding me here.

Yet I stay,

rooted to my seat.

Miles stretch between

as highway hums a song.

Stretching out best I can,

I’m lulled by wheels of complacency,

and fall into deep sleep….

Until, passing through some god-forsaken town,

the rambling bus blows a tire.

No longer dry,

I stand roadside,

looking worn and tired.

“Don’t worry,”

a gentleman looks on,

“Help will arrive.”

Comfort spouted in vain,

sounds familiar.

Groaning to a halt,

the bus indeed ambles in.

I stir, lifted from the roadside dream.

Wiping my eyes,

I sit up and ask, “Have I been saved?”

“Honey, what do I look like,

your angel in disguise?”

the woman at the wheel inquires.

Her black hands rest lax beneath her

as she smiles, “Is this your stop?”

Stretching,

I rise,

grab my backpack

and head down the aisle.

I understand:

where I go,

my destinations,

all reap grace

or payback,

my own creations.

"I'm on my go, go, go...gadget flow!"

Settling down on Monday after a busy weekend, I thought to share an insight. The other day I was rushing a bit trying to get somewhere and drove past a sprinkler misting a lawn in the first light of morning. It glowed like only the union of water and sun can do and rather than be inspired, I said to myself, "Don't look, there's no time." Can you believe it?! The silliness of snubbing beauty because I was too busy! Here's my AHA--when I hurry, I don't take time for beauty. I had inadvertently trained myself to ignore and not look if I was rushed and had to arrive somewhere. Well, Dear Friends, you'll be pleased to know that I slowed down to the speed limit :) and just took it all in. And guess what? I was not late but arrived exactly on time. I made a commitment to plan time to entertain beauty and snag the blessings offered for the taking every day. To retrain or realign one's sights to the priorities of life (North Stars) takes tremendous discipline. Slowing down and not rushing are ways for me to chart my course in the right direction. Lupe Fiasco, I'm stepping off the gerbil wheel!