Tag: awareness

Amazing Grace—Africa’s Animals

Photograph © 2016 Peggy Kornegger
I noticed it first in the elephants. From the safari jeep, we saw them in the near distance, walking through the South African bush. Their movement was steady, serene, focused—moving forward with purpose and utmost clarity, undeterred by distraction. They embodied grace in a way I had never seen before, a grace that filled them and emanated forth from them. They were living their unique beingness on Earth, fully and completely, and with a simple beauty that made my breath catch in my throat and tears fill my eyes when I looked at them. It was God’s grace and presence I was witnessing—it filled them so sweetly and divinely. That is the way we were all meant to walk upon this Earth.

The giraffes too walked in this manner, slowly and purposefully, their elongated necks reaching elegantly out and up to eat leaves from the trees. Like the elephants, their shoulders moved fluidly and powerfully with each step. There was no hurry, no rush to reach a goal. They were just living their lives as they were created to be. When they bent to drink from a river, their legs splayed outward to accommodate the downward bending of their long neck to reach the water source. It looked both awkward and graceful simultaneously because it was real, uncontrived. Living yoga. Meditation in motion.

Photograph © 2016 Peggy Kornegger

Soon I realized that all the wild animals I saw in Africa moved with this graceful quality—the impalas and water bucks walking or running together in groups; the baboons and monkeys swinging from branch to branch, from tree to tree; the wart hogs trotting along like large odd-looking pigs; the zebras drinking together at a water hole, their heads moving up and down to watch for predators. And even when startled by the possibility of a predator, all the animals ran with fluid grace and focused alertness. No wasted movement. It was if everything had been choreographed perfectly according to some grand design—and of course it was. Life in its natural state has a beauty that defies artifice.

Even at Moholoholo Wildlife Rehabilitation Center, where the animals have been injured or orphaned and live in fenced areas, this quality had not been entirely lost. As volunteers, we were given a tour of all the different animals with a brief history of why they were there. It was difficult for me to see these wild creatures behind fences, but I did understand that their lives had been saved by the center and they were being protected there. Still, at times, my heart went out to them. As we passed a male lion walking up and down within a large fenced expanse, I watched him as he watched all of us. Just a few feet away, on the other side of the fence, his eyes surveyed us, one by one, as we walked by. When his eyes reached mine, they stopped, and I stopped. Something passed between us—awareness perhaps: I was aware of him and he was aware of me, a human and a lion meeting, eye to eye, for one moment in time. Chills covered my arms, and tears came to my eyes. Then we each moved on. Yet I will never forget his golden grace-filled wild lion eyes.

The wild animals of Africa live in our imagination long before we see them in person, if we are fortunate enough to do so. They seem to embody a connection to life’s mysteries and magic, something we have lost in our urban world full of cars and concrete. They walk with a living grace that causes us to pause and remember how precious they are in this world. How precious all animals are, everywhere. Their very being, so different from ours, reminds us of the incredible variety of creatures that we are blessed to share the planet with. Each one is unique, unrepeatable. May we celebrate them by protecting their habitat, their freedom, and their infinitely graceful lives.

Time Passing, Time Standing Still

Photograph © 2016 Peggy Kornegger

At times, it seems that our lives are moving so fast that we can’t catch our breath. At other times, it can seem that we are stuck, that time is standing still. Yet, past, present, future; birth, life, death; and time itself are all mental concepts, distinctions that we humans invent and superimpose on the world as we try to make sense of it. Beyond the mind’s created parameters is eternity. Occasionally, we touch it with fleeting awareness: In moments of great love or great loss, the mental boundaries fall away, and there is just presence without beginning or end. The deeper we live into life, the more we open to this perception.

Over the course of a lifetime, if we are lucky, there can be a gradual disengagement from the arbitrary cognitive constructs that seem to hold life together but actually keep us from seeing the infinite universe we are part of. William Blake writes of holding “Infinity in the palm of your hand, and Eternity in an hour.” Poets and mystics help us step over the threshold of the world we perceive as real into a limitless open space of sheer beingness where time passing and time standing still become one.

One night last month, for no particular reason, I thought of my parents and the ages at which they had died: 81 and 94. It gave me pause. I don’t often think of my own age, and I usually perceive the future as open-ended. But, of course, we have no idea how long we have on this Earth. I could live to 100+. Or I could die tomorrow. Thinking of my parents’ deaths made mortality more “real” somehow. I asked myself: In the time left to me, how do I want to live?  A question I have usually answered in the living itself—embracing the full adventure, aware of each precious unrepeatable moment. The answer evolves as I evolve.

Last year, in the midst of a health crisis, I answered that question with a prayer in which I surrendered my separate human identity to something greater: to divine connection, in service to God/dess. That moment of surrender shifted everything for me and continues to, on a daily basis. When I thought of my parents last month, I surrendered again—to the unknown trajectory of my own life and death as a physical form here on Earth. The human ego, or personality self, struggles to survive at all costs, but our souls are eternal. When the personality surrenders to the soul’s greater wisdom, an inner alignment of human and divine takes place. We start to experience life as beautifully orchestrated, beyond time. We step into a flow of living energy that is limitless and multidimensional.

Only the soul sees this greater universal picture. In recent years, I’ve found that there are some experiences that cannot be described, that elude language entirely. They are encounters of the heart and soul that are primordial and timeless. Only in silence are they fully received. When we are present at a birth or a death, when we hold another close to our heart with love, when we experience God’s presence—these are times of wordless immersion in the mystery of life. Time ceases to exist. These are the truest moments of all, when we know that everything is unfolding exactly as it’s meant to. My life, your life, all of life, is of a piece, a miracle that defies description.

Unmaking Enemies, Unraveling Fear

Photograph © 2017 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2017 Peggy Kornegger

We are living through adversarial times in this country. People want to blame others for whatever they believe is wrong with their own lives. Immigrants, gay people, outspoken women—choose one or all of the above, and you have an instant “enemy.” It’s a behavioral pattern that can be traced back through centuries of human relationships on this planet.

Political groups—whether liberal or conservative; left, right, or center—have historically often based their identity on a perceived common threat or enemy—usually another group of people who epitomizes everything they think is bad or wrong in the world. Within small social groups, sometimes even families, people tend to single out one individual as problematic or unlikable. Religions founded in love often don’t extend it universally. Even heaven has been imagined as a place for some and not others (“sinners” are condemned to hell). Why do we do this? Why do we include some and not others, even in the afterlife? On the face of it, it seems ridiculous, an exercise in absurdity, as if humans could somehow control their own ultimate destiny—and who shares space with us on the journey.

We don’t begin our lives that way. As young children, we model our thoughts, feelings, and behavior after the adults who are close to us. Each of us receives that conditioning to one degree or another, wherever we are in the world. For some of us, mistrust and hatred become a way of life, and it dominates everything we say or do. Surely there must be a way out of this vicious cycle of hostility and aversion, based in fear of the “other,” that we are seeing so much of now.

What if we flip the paradigm and make a conscious effort to create a radical shift in this old conditioned behavior pattern that shows up everywhere, within us as well as outside of us? Awareness and intention can interrupt the toxic cycle of otherness, of “us” versus “them.” Let’s “unmake” enemies in this world by unmaking them in our own minds, our own families, our own social networks, and our own communities. Muslims are currently being targeted, along with a whole long list of others accumulated over the years. It’s time to intervene and make friends with those who the haters tell us to hate. Time to choose love instead of fear. Compassion instead of blame (for the haters as well, whose hatred often stems from their own self-hatred).

Just for a moment, imagine what the world would be like without enemies, without anyone to point a finger at and blame for the world’s ills. What if we were all friends, all family? Actually, anyone visiting from another planet would assume these tall two-legged creatures were all related—we look remarkably alike to an outsider. We’re the ones who make up things to distinguish ourselves from one another: skin color, eye shape, religion, politics. That’s how countries started. Separation, boundaries. Then petty grievances gradually turned to wars, and we forgot who we really are, that we who were born on Earth all came from the same vast energy source or consciousness (God, if you will), and we will return there. When we’re on our deathbeds, it all falls away. Nothing matters but the love we’ve shared.

Can’t we just do that now? Pretend we’re dying (because we are) and just love one another. Just love one another. Until the word enemy falls out of use completely, and universal friendship and cooperation is the only accepted behavior. Let’s agree to live love instead of hate, in every moment, every thought, every action. What else could possibly matter as much? Especially now.

 

Dog Spelled Backward

Photograph © Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © Peggy Kornegger
Admittedly, I am a cat person. Even though I grew up with a dog companion (Pepper), whom I loved dearly, cats have been closest to me as an adult: Edward for 8 years and Lily for 22. Of course, animals of all kinds touch my heart, and this has become increasingly true as my own awareness has expanded to be able to perceive the intelligence and sensitivity of all living beings on our planet. In my garden, I have sweet and often funny exchanges with birds, bees, butterflies, squirrels, rabbits, and chipmunks. A connection and communication beyond words frequently passes between us.

Since I am a gardener, I am outdoors a lot of the time in the spring, summer, and early fall. As I plant and take care of my flowers in the yard, I often see neighbors walking their dogs. All kinds of dogs: labs, Scotties, pit bulls, schnauzers, pugs, huskies, terriers. Some are intent on their “appointed rounds” through the neighborhood, sniffing every tree and bush and not that interested in the occasional human gardener. Others, however, are absolutely thrilled to encounter another human besides the one at the other end of their leash.

Two dogs in particular come to mind: a small white terrier named Honus and a large black lab named Maggie. One morning, as I was on my hands and knees pulling weeds in the front border, I heard a kind of whining panting sound immediately behind me. I turned, and there was Honus, straining to get to me, at the absolute end of his leash, as his person tried to keep him contained. He was still a bit of a puppy then, waggling all over, his eyes sparkling with excitement and the overriding desire to get close enough to greet me with licks and touches. Who could resist such intensely focused friendliness? I immediately fell in love with Honus. Every single time I’ve seen him after that initial encounter, he has behaved exactly the same: so excited to see me, this human crawling around on the ground at his level. He is always stretching to get to me before I hear him, turn around, and then reach out to pet and talk to him. It’s a huge gift that makes me happy all day.

Maggie is a much older dog—a large black lab with gray hairs around her mouth. When I first met her, she behaved exactly the same as Honus. As she and the man with her passed by the front yard where I was gardening, I said hello. Maggie turned to look at me, and as soon as my eyes met hers, she began to wag her tail with enthusiasm and excitement, reaching out to me eagerly. Once again, I just had to walk over and pet her. Her eyes were filled with such happiness and love. No other way to describe what I saw there. She emitted a completely uncomplicated and unconditionally loving presence. Something I’ve seen so many times in dogs—and cats, too. Something almost sacred in its purity and spirit. So is it a coincidence that dog spelled backward is god?

Well, let me tell you another story. In recent years, my spiritual practice has opened my eyes to seeing God in everything. Literally everything: human, animal, insect, tree, rock, chair, rug, computer, star, planet. In the midst of this awakening, I watched the world around me transform. Everything I looked at began to take on a special quality of living light. One afternoon, on my usual walk around my neighborhood, I encountered a woman with her pit bull. As I passed them, the dog and I looked into each other’s eyes. I stopped completely. There gazing at me through this pit bull’s eyes was God—life energy shining forth, joyful awareness, pure beingness. Tears filled my eyes. God recognizing God, no separation.

Photograph © Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © Peggy Kornegger

If we could only realize that our entire world is made up of this oneness. Life reflecting life. It is everywhere! God meets God on the street every single day. That innocent, curious, welcoming essence that dogs and cats often show us is within us as well. We had it as children; we just need to allow it to come to life again. Years ago, my father, in his aging wisdom, once said, “If only I could be more like a dog.” Meaning, more forgiving, more loving. He could see that our companion animals are living examples of unselfish sweetness and love. Time to pay attention. Time to see the God in Dog. And in ourselves.

 

Fear and Its Disguises

Photograph © 2012 Peggy Kornegger
Photograph © 2012 Peggy Kornegger
The presence of fear is not always recognizable as such. Yes, it can be the jolt to the gut, adrenaline coursing through your body, at a near-miss in traffic or sudden turbulence mid-flight. Obvious. Unmistakable. But most fear is more subtle than that, more hidden. It lurks in your subconscious and disguises itself as other things when it emerges. Anger, sadness, negativity, shyness, humility, resentment—all these are perfect covers for fear.

A friend of mine feels angry when she’s in a situation that frightens her, such as running out of gas on the highway in the middle of nowhere. Anger comes up first; irritation. Next could be self-blame or regret. But really the root feeling is fear. Another friend experiences depression or sadness instead of active fear when facing a potentially difficult turn of events or future circumstances. Yet another friend recently wrote about how he now realizes that his spiritual “humility” has concealed a fear of standing out, of being fully himself in the world. I can relate to all of these experiences.

I’ve also had disguised fear directed at me in the form of well-meaning, but basically negative advice or warnings about something I plan to do. Naysaying. Actually, we live in a naysaying world dominated by fear and a mainstream media that promulgates it. We learn to internalize it and then pass it on to others. Our news sources rely on sensationalism to attract an audience with frightening new dramas every day: murder, disease, abuse, scams. Those who financially sponsor the media use fear to control people, to keep them distracted, apprehensive, and unquestioning.

Conscious awareness can shift everything, however. Once we recognize the sources of external fear in our lives, we begin to recognize it within ourselves. Some fear may come from past experiences, which needs to surface and be released, and some may come from present events and how they are perceived. When we become more aware, we realize that the world is not all mayhem and catastrophe. Positive solutions also exist, and we can become part of that wave of positivity on this planet. When we are not stopped by internalized fear, so much becomes possible. We can step into our own greatness: the fully realized humans we came here to be.

My own fear of “being great” has hidden behind childhood shyness and then adult political and spiritual beliefs about equality and humility. I’ve never liked the existing hierarchical paradigm in which individuals battle for top-dog status at the expense of others. I envision a world in which self-actualization is possible for all. To be humble is to know we are connected to everyone else, and what each of us does affects the whole. As I evolve spiritually, I have come to see that becoming my own greatest self does not negate humility but can actually enhance it when I align with my connection to all beings everywhere. That’s the magic; that’s the miracle.

Becoming your full-out magnificent self and also being aware you are part of a whole involves a delicate balancing. But that’s the humility of oneness. No self-abnegation or belittling of self, but instead, expansive creativity within a framework of collective brilliance. We can be fabulous with inclusivity, not exclusivity. We can inspire others without causing them to feel small. Because we are all inspiring when we allow our souls to step to the fore. So don’t let fear stop you, no matter what disguise it wears. See through the masquerade to the soaring spirit at the core of everything and everyone.