The Ring Of Truth

In the fall of 2006, I moved to Boulder from Seattle. Life had changed and turned itself upside down in ways I had never imagined, and it was time for something new and different. Somewhere in that transition I knew I wanted to discover something else, not in a way of searching, but in a way of letting whatever it was reveal itself. I wanted to discover truth, mine and that of the world, and let it discover and reveal me.

I’m not sure where the idea emerged from, but soon I was searching for a ring. My idea wasn’t unique, it’s a collective idea, and even within months of my own search, I met many people who had followed a similar journey. A ring that would represent a commitment the same way a wedding ring is a symbol of the vows between two people. I found what I was looking for and the path was set.

Committed to truth.

In my own way, perhaps mostly from the perspective of a human mind, I thought I had some idea of what truth might look like when it happened. So I followed the path, often the divergent path in the woods Frost writes of, probably even in a way he knew well. I started by believing I knew something and where I might land. But truth has other ideas. It only knows the commitment, which is in itself a truth.

As life flowed, I watched as what I thought truth was went flying by, with no stopping or pausing to consider what was next. Initially I had made a promise to truth, and I no longer knew what that meant because after passing my imaginary point, we – truth and I – kept going. I knew I had committed to truth, and now I knew I had no idea what that really meant. We had reached a pivotal point, where Truth was now just as committed to me. There was a way in which Truth was wearing me, ringing through me; as much as I would wear the ring. The nature of Truth amidst my world had changed, Truth had become its own force – with a capital ‘T’.

There is more to write here, but words about Truth and this part of the journey have escaped. Perhaps there will be a Part II of The Ring of Truth. There is so much richness to share here, but it seems it will be another time.

That promise is one of the greatest things I’ve ever done, it has brought me to where I am today, to help be more completely who I am. I had no clue about how daring or risky that idea really was, so indeed ignorance was bliss. If you take that adventure – and I highly encourage you to do so – don’t even think about courage or fear or risk or what ifs. Just do it. Life will be a whirlwind, and a roller coaster. Completely worth it in every way!

As I write this on the Solstice of 2014, reflecting back on a moment almost exactly 8 years ago that turned life upside down, I am wearing that ring again. I don’t often wear it anymore. I don’t need to – Truth and I are partners on a long journey. Tonight it feels right though. A gentle and clear reminder of the devotion to each other, a symbol of a reminder  to continue. A renewal isn’t necessary because it hasn’t been undone or obstructed. I am human though and symbols matter, so I let it be.

The Ring of Truth – I wear it, I hear it. And it adorns me and hears me. And we wander on – going “where no man has gone before”, or at least where this man hasn’t gone before.

 

 

Compliments and Humility

In some of the yoga classes I go to, we are offered the opportunity to try new and challenging poses. To stretch a little and see where an edge might be. Quite often after this, we are brought into a very restful posture, often child’s pose for a chance to reset after. While resting, there is an additional offer from the teacher to feel what the new or challenging pose brought up. Perhaps it was frustration at lack of ability, maybe pride at doing something strong, or excitement at getting into the new posture, even self-talk or grandiosity or weakness. And then to let it go, to come back to our bodies and the present moment. That moment hold and build our strength and self-confidence, and then we move on.

Those moments of pride are like compliments to ourselves. We’ve doing something well and we congratulate ourselves! As we should, to acknowledge what we’ve done. There’s another side of those compliments I want to explore…

Several weeks ago I received an unexpected – and to me – quite meaningful compliment. I was quite surprised and even delighted as it settled in to me. Following that as it washed through was an even fuller wave of humility. This wasn’t the first time that humility has come, but it was the first time I had really noticed it. Reflecting back, it has happened almost each time I receive a compliment for a while. In that same time period, I remember also sharing some impressions and compliments to another friend and realizing there was some similarity in her response.

There’s a way that a sincere compliment is like being met at a more profound level, at being seen in a way we usually aren’t – especially if we are able to receive it. That in itself evokes gratitude and openness for me. The humility fills out the trio of wonder. It feels like such a profound practice to welcome and meet each accolade with the humbleness of being human and what’s there’s and what’s available.

And if that doesn’t work for you, you can always try on the lyrics from Mac Davis – “it’s hard to be humble when you’re perfect in every way”!