by Constance Casey | Apr 22, 2019 | Uncategorized
Start with being a good friend to yourself, and in that process, you establish a friendship with the world.
A friend to self rebukes self-will-run-riot, complains less, reviews means for noble causes as tasks required in themselves; holds no role to one’s bosom, but watches as desires of the heart vanquish in exquisite agony.
Let there be freedom to speak freely in truth.
Friends nurture tenderness and care for the honest appraisal of one’s own experience.
One must stand in one’s own shoes; refute the potential possession of another and know the undergirded nature of unity in one another. In knowing unity, stability is present for contrasting and assembling ideologies to evolve or collapse.
Do not fuel friendship where no alliance can be shared in values for the world’s good. Listen carefully for core values in the way of discourse and actions.
Allow patience to work in amongst the frequencies, wondering if comrades or accomplices shall meet or enmity shall rise up to deepen the discourse. Penetrate division with insight and release poor associations to the turbulence of the world’s spiraling schemes.
Whatever forms arise, see them as specters of nature within divine creation allowing for independent appraisal; not mine; allowing for breathing relations in the midst of discovery.
Explore one another, feel your predispositions, patterns, or assumptions jump like sumac in the fire, wipe the sparks from your pants knowing your palm will never be completely unstained.
True friends pick up after years of separation with little concern for disparate conditions or distance. A delicate understanding presents itself upon meeting again with interest and care.
Gems of perception shine an intelligence that faces melancholy, poverty or suffocating forms of oppression with freshness like opening a window to a vast view.
by Constance Casey | Jan 4, 2019 | Uncategorized
My father taught me to stand up straight, focus my eyes forward and make eye contact with other’s passing by, nod and say hello, basically, be polite. When we were out walking, he would often stop to chat about the weather or ask how someone was feeling, compliment them on their hairstyle or outfit, and wish them a nice day. These kinds of habits are still a part of me, and yet, these days I find it harder to meet anyone’s gaze. The information age and cell phone usage has hunched our shoulders, we have become stuck in a revolving door of notification and response, casting our eyes downward and not straight out.
How distracted are you by your device usage? Do you feel that if you are not looking at your phone you are perceived to not have a social life or be involved in important business? When riding the bus and looking out the window, do you see the sights pass by? Do you notice the person sitting next to you? What is your mood? What is your attitude? How deep is your breathing?
Many people I’ve spoken with feel alienated among their peers using cell phones in the midst of a social encounter. Studies show that when a cell phone is placed on the table during a meeting, people shorten their sentences, assuming they will be interrupted at any moment. Doesn’t this constant feeling of being undervalued cause problems? I’ve seen this happen so frequently now that I just had to write about it. The cell phone is warping our minds and hearts. Many people are more intimate with their cell phones than with their family and/or friends. I know we use it to connect, too. But, it can’t hurt to assess the relationship with your device.
So, here are some suggestions for bringing your attention somewhere else, try this and let me know how it goes:
- Put it away for several hours, maybe even a whole day and see what happens.
- Say hello to three people today when you are out and around town. Pocket your device, look them in the eye, stand up straight and genuinely wish them well.
- Take a digital message up a level, and ask to meet for a brief walk together.
- When driving, put it in your trunk and just drive. This could save your life or another’s.
- Write down the curiosities that drive you to use the phone. Post the list and visit it in a month. Were you able to live without satisfying those curiosities?
- If your device has a control method for screen-time, turn it on to limit your usage.
- When you meet with someone, ask that you both turn off your devices for the meeting and put them away. See if the quality of the interaction changes. Do you feel more valued? Are you able to provide more relaxed attention with your companion? How distracted are you to not have it by your side turned on for notices?
In my work with others who are dying, the things they recall as the most important memories in their lives were special interactions where they felt heard, they saw the glint of the sun light, felt the human touch of a hand, a hug, the warmth of that moment stayed with them more than any other moments in their lives. My last suggestion is to imagine how you will remember your interactions when you are on your deathbed. Will you remember people’s faces, their smiles or tears? Or will the screen be your strongest memory?
by Constance Casey | Sep 20, 2017 | Uncategorized
Last night was the first night of the “Growing Through Loss” support group series in Roseville, MN. The speaker, Ted Bowman, gave an overview of common misconceptions about grief:
a- That there is a right way to do it.
b- That there are predictable stages.
c- That there is closure.
d- That some people don’t grieve.
We all grieve. We all have some form of suffering in our lives, whether it is the loss of a physical capacity, the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job. Life is not easy; we are all in some form of acceptance for working with our feelings and our lives.
We need to acknowledge our grief. While painful memories are difficult at times, they can help us come to terms with loss when we honor our grief process.
In my work with those in recovery, there is grief in letting go of addictive behavior and opening to life in a new way. Fear, sadness, anger and grief are feelings that we need to know. To find support for this process is a gift for our emotional health.
The group breaks out into a variety of specific small groups depending on death of a spouse, child, sibling or other issues. In this way, folks connect with those in similar circumstances and know they are not alone.
I’m grateful to be a part of the series and presenting on October 2nd, 2017. My talk will focus on being aware of the breath and the body, and how to find some openings in one’s grief process with breath awareness and body wisdom.
by Constance Casey | Jul 27, 2017 | Uncategorized
Recently, I have been reflecting on the process I go through when picking up a book, reading it, and deciding if I will finish it. When I pick up a book, I want it to be helpful. After all, we have only a limited amount of time in this human life. So, when my hand reaches for a book, and I begin turning the first pages, reading the table of contents perhaps, or perusing the first few pages, I will ask myself: Why did I pick this book? What am I looking for?
Then, as I read a bit further, I will ask myself: What was it about this particular book that drew me to into it? What do I like about this author’s style of writing? What is happening with me as I read this book? I often pause and reflect after a page or two. I reflect on these questions throughout the reading experience, which probably makes me a slow reader, but I savor the experience.
I get most of my books from the library. Often, after having finished a book, as I am flipping through it before preparing to return it to the library, it comes to me. I will remember, Oh! That’s why I needed that book! I needed to be reminded of that! The insight arises, and I want to kiss the book and thank it for it beautiful existence because I am reminded of something very inclusive about being in the world.
For example, I recently picked up Daily Rituals by Mason Curry. I wasn’t sure I wanted to read it or not, but saw that it was a small book; contained very short stories about different artist’s habits. That being the case, it felt convenient to pick it up and read a few pages about Twain or Beethoven or Dickinson, etc. I felt irritated that the majority of the artists in the book were male, but then, I sighed, took a deep breath and kept reading it for a few weeks from time to time.
I also wondered: Could reading this be a way to avoid my writing process? But, I decided that reading was also part of writing. After I digested the book, I pressed the book into my hands, felt the cover, and flipped the pages back and forth. I asked myself again: Why did I pick this book? What was it about this book that drew me into it? What was I looking for? What did I like about this author’s style of writing? What happened within me as I read this book? Why did I spend valuable time reading these stories? Then, this insight suddenly arose:
Everybody is channeling.
Every sentient being is constantly channeling energy with their energetic field while additional fields of energy affect them along with much that cannot be named or seen. Writers and artists are not anything special. It appears that the only difference is that they consciously work to channel their energy into a certain form. And, from what I read, many suffered in that process, just like all of us. We suffer. We learn. And when we learn, we find release. And, it is a process of allowing consciousness into the process of learning, unlearning and meeting our suffering.
I am constantly attentive to being aware of how energy is channeled within my body. To bring energy into a written form can seem very hard to me. Why? Because there was a belief that “writers” have some special skill.
Yet, here I am writing these words. Whatever is needed is already happening as I write this piece. Channeling is happening all the time anyway. I can steer the channel toward writing more often and let it become part of my stream of consciousness. My process may be painful at times, even though I do not want to cause harm. At other times, it may feel pleasurable or neutral. It is unpredictable because it is about being open.
Gratefully, there is learning, reflecting, and release.
by Constance Casey | Jun 29, 2017 | Uncategorized
One of the core practices of my work is simply sitting and noticing. The idea behind this is to pay attention to the changing qualities within the mind and body, to see that they are ever flowing through us. In this practice, I pay special attention to the thoughts and desires that want to control this natural process. The example I want to write about today concerns the feelings of grief related to a loss that can arise throughout our life. I have been blessed to work with many people around this issue, as I have worked with it myself for many years.
Recently I was going through some books from my early studies on working with grief, and I began reflecting on the persisting cultural beliefs about loss and the grieving process. Many of us are taught that grief follows a specific path before vanishing from our life like smoke. When we lose someone, we might be given space for a time, but eventually we may be guided towards a sense of closure. In fact, we might even have a desire to be over it ourselves, which might then lead to the arising of guilt and shame. I was deeply touched by the story Patrick O’Malley told in his 2015 Op-Ed for the New York Times, in which he described a client named Mary. Having spent six months of despairing the loss of her child to infant death syndrome, as Patrick writes, “she had diagnosed her condition as being ‘stuck’ in grief, believing that a stubborn depression was preventing her from achieving acceptance and closure.” But Patrick offers a different perspective, as he writes, “I suggested to Mary that there was nothing wrong with her… She was just very sad, consumed by sorrow, but not because she was grieving incorrectly. The depth of her sadness was simply a measure of the love she had for her daughter.” By believing that she needed “closure,” she was attempting to control the natural process within herself that was calling out with sorrow.
There is another way. It is important to remember that we each have our own style and way of working with loss. Some of us are more intellectual, some have a more emotional center, and some are more kinesthetic and action or movement oriented. I find that we need to balance our way of working with the head, the heart and the entire body for inner peace while touching our inner pain. If we are grieving, the feelings of anger, sadness, shock, overwhelm, or despair can come in different degrees and in different order. We may discover new ways of working with old grief that can provide insight and new forms of release.
Ultimately, this idea of closure is at odds with my teaching and practice because of the way it constricts the mind to only one way of being. My practice focuses just on what is present. I have worked with many people, including myself who have felt a shift come after some time. Sometimes you feel lighter after working through some grief and that can go on for any length of time, but we never know when the memory of that person meant so much to us or the loss can come back and hit us in a new way. So it’s important to work with just whatever is coming up without judgement.
I have found that grief is a natural part of life. When I know about how many species are becoming extinct each day, and see many people dying from various causes, learn about wars being waged, my heart aches for all sentient beings. When I acknowledge my sorrow and meet it with compassion, just pause and sit still for a bit, I feel this glimmering light that grows into love. I see how much love is available, a love so large that I cannot even hold it. It holds us all. And, in this process, with each breath, and each step, there is just this, whatever needs to be faced right now, with love.
by Constance Casey | Dec 13, 2011 | Uncategorized
Here is an expression called “Council of Being”, about knowing within and without and neither within nor without in a dynamic and moving way. The light in the center of the void has a pull and curious illumination. The black and white coloring represents the dualistic universe of expression we often live with. The monochromatic nature of this picture made the piece especially meditative because there was little color selection, making the process continuous as I worked my way around a spiral.
The beads appear alive with the movement of entering each bead on the in-breath, and on the out-breath pulling the thread out the other end. I enjoy this process, it is one of the most pleasant processes and my favorite art form. Since each bead is tiny, about one millimeter, concentration needs to be steady in picking up each one and sewing it down one or two at a time. Each bead is a void, and not a void, and neither a void or not a void. I reflected on this piece during the recent eclipse and thought I would share it with you. I also made a maple frame for the piece as the maple seemed right for its plain expression.