the searcher

If the heart wasn't such a searcher
Where would red poppies grow.

unresolved

      

Unresolved trauma stands at the gate
of everyday life.
     

Pick up Sticks.....

When I was a child one of my favorite games was "pick up sticks".

It was a game of surprises.
It was a game that engaged all of me.
It was my platform to practice with openness and intimacy.

What I learned intuitively about myself and the forces of the universe playing this game was humbling. It may have informed my interaction with nature in everyday life.
Now more than ever, do I really understand how many life skills I learned from this game.  

If you were not born in the 50's, this game may not be familiar to you.

 The game was played with a handful of plastic sticks about eight inches long. These sticks are very sharp at both ends and were made in bright, attractive colours. Like most games we played as children, very little equipment was needed. These coloured plastic sticks were all that was required; plastic sticks, gravity and balance.

Our parents provided the plastic sticks. The universe provided everything else we needed.

One gathered the sticks in one's hand, holding them firmly around the center, straightened the ends by gently tapping one end on the floor, stood them up as straight as one could , and released your grip. The sticks fell in a tangle of colour. It looked random. Was it random or clearly the result of causes and conditions?

The goal of the game was to drop the sticks and pick each one up individually, without disturbing any of the other sticks in the pile.

Once you removed the first stick, you had help. You had a tool to help you remove the rest.

Sometimes if you had a friend, you would take turns working on the pile. In this case, your friend's decisions affected what the pile would look like when it was your turn.  It could be a competition. All this comparative thought brought a special level of arousal. But sometimes I played by myself. It was me against the tangle of sticks that fell in front of me.
I practiced with the forces of nature. How much control did I really have.

One was always hoping for a gentle spread, with all the sticks displaying generous bits of themselves that could be easily removed. This was never the case. One or two of the sticks would come free from the pack and could be easily moved away, but mostly it was a tangle.

What lay unrehearsed in front of you was a tangle of colour and shape. The sticks had fallen on top of each other and there was a complexity of levels to be considered. At first glance, it always looked like an impossible situation. How would it be possible to remove these sticks without disturbing any other sticks. They were interconnected. Each meeting of colour and angle was unique and would require special consideration.

This job would require silence and a firm intention. In fact, in serious games of competition, it was required that you stated your intention before you started. If your movement to enact your true intention changed the conditions of the pile such that another stick dislodged, you could not take credit. The universe had removed it, not you. You had only triggered  the balance and gravity of the piece. Your turn was over.

Again, left with what was. Patience was essential.  There would have to be some acceptance, and an intuitive understanding of the forces of the universe. Any idea that you had full control of the outcome would develop into frustration. Frustration would never win this game for you.  


First, we would need to carefully observe the whole pile, intimately and intuitively understanding the reasons that the pile had arrived at equilibrium. How is it maintaining its balance and what intrusion would unbalance it. What are the causes and conditions of each piece. How deep is this piece lodged in the meeting of another piece. What conditions contributes to its unique balance.   


The child with his beginner's mind and his "I don't know" attitude inspecting every piece and its unique conditions.Then slowly, in silence and with a steady intentional mind, the move is made: a pinch on the pointy end with just enough force to raise the other end off a meeting place.....a careful slide under a small space beneath a tangle and a mindful flick; all accompanied by a constriction in the throat, a buzzing in the lower stomach....and then a  step back to see how the universe responded.
A child of the universe learning to be intimate with the energies of the universe.

The courageous attempt to disengage the tangle without creating more difficulties.The faith that you could manage the surprises that may present themselves. That moment when your faith in the next moment over rode your doubt about your limitations.

A gap and then the surprise.

The stories of the success or failure of the removal began immediately.

There were stories of disappointment.
There were stories of self reproach.
There were stories of blaming.
There were stories of pride.
There were stories of injustice.
There were stories relief.
There were stories of impatience.

Stories of the surprises.


to Ann
love Norma