What Little I Know: Letters to My Daughter
/I've been thinking a lot lately about how much I had to unlearn as an adult. About how life was presented to me in such rigid absolutes that it crippled my inner creativity and confidence. I've been thinking about how much I want to give my daughter an expansive, open world that doesn't need to be feared or labeled or tied down.
I've also been wondering how much of what has settled into the cave of my heart will be transformed once I bring a baby home from the hospital. It's possible that everything I am trying to write down will prove to be foolish and quite laughable once I have joined the ranks of the chronically sleep deprived. So perhaps, at a minimum, we'll all get a good laugh out of what I think is worth writing down today. Regardless of whether or not I am foolish, this is the work of a woman who's in a contemplative phase of life after decades of inner upheaval.
There's a lot about my vocabulary that could seem strange to anyone reading this. Part of healing, I think, is recognizing when things are much more than they seem. So much of healing for me has been realizing that frightened people make things small, but people who know how to relax can actually feel the world in ever-expanding gentleness. For better or worse, whenever I would sense new life or a new way of seeing springing into me, my instinct has been to find new language to describe exactly what I see in front of me.
The cave of the heart is a concept I first learned about from Cynthia Bourgeault, who described it as a place inside us we must touch when faced with confusion and wonder. The cave of the heart is a place we must go when we are challenged to look at something in a brand new way—when we are challenged to set aside our "external conditioning." The cave of the heart invites us, instead, to interact with our confusion through a "raw immediacy of presence." She says in this place we come in contact with our own "direct knowingness."
The first time I heard this, my heart bounced out of me. This, I thought, is what I have been fighting to find my whole life. The place inside me that exists beyond belief systems, rules and labels. It's an inner place of knowing that doesn't always have empirical or scientific proof. It's a place where people and textbooks and Bibles can't beat you up—it is sacred, protected by some unshakable awareness and confidence. Very few things organically reside in the cave of the heart. But all things can be fed and nurtured by it. This is the place I hope to always share from.
The idea for this series first showed up while I was driving home from Denver to our home in the mountains about 45 minutes outside of the city. My mind was seeing all these words flashing by. Words like human nature, forgiveness, anger and so forth. These words carry a lot of weight for me because they represent weeks, months, even years of struggle during my journey to healing and inner peace. They were hard fought and hard won.
I didn't arrive at my viewpoints without risking a lot along the way. The main thing I risked was separating myself from the religion I was raised in. The more I endeavored to sit in the cave of my heart, the more I realized that the God I was raised to know didn't live there at all. If you have ever been kicked out of a group for disagreeing or seeing things differently, then you might have some understanding of what my mind and heart were up against. In the end, what I found is that not belonging to a group—organized religion or otherwise—is the single best way to belong only to yourself, your conscience and Spirit.
The trouble with writing about what I know is that I know very little. I'm sensitive to my inner impulses as a human being to seek the comfort and security of absolutes, which I know only transform into the shackles of right and wrong. I tell my friends often that I'm foggy most of the time. But I do think that the best teacher is our own direct experience, however that may come about. So if I can give my daughter the permission to learn from her own life, from her own triumphs and failures, then perhaps the last 18 years of learning to belong to myself will serve her first and possibly others.
Much of what I have to say is probably going to be colored by the fact that I have found my spiritual home outside of where most people thought I would. I reference Buddhist teachings not because I am a Buddhist teacher but because the teachings seem to find me when I most need them. And I would be remiss if I didn't acknowledge that the work of other spiritual seekers, Buddhist or not, have opened doors for me I couldn't have known how to open myself.
I don't think you need to be religious or even spiritual in order to be in touch with the cave of the heart. This seems to be a universal destination inside everyone, regardless of how aware we are of it. There is an inner place for you to find refuge, comfort and self belonging. If my daughter learns how to dwell here, then I have a hunch she will live a life she can be satisfied with.
As I have time, energy and focus, I will link below to new installments in this series I'm affectionately naming, "What Little I Know." Right now, I am almost seven months pregnant and find that some days writing is fuel and others it is valium. I'll just have to see what is ready to surface in the next few months.