This is a recent interview I did for the Center for Spiritual Wisdom:
From Rob Field, the Director:
“And if you’d like to hear my full 30-minute conversation with Dr. Mary Ann Iyer, you can enjoy it here”:
Cheers! MA
This is a recent interview I did for the Center for Spiritual Wisdom:
From Rob Field, the Director:
“And if you’d like to hear my full 30-minute conversation with Dr. Mary Ann Iyer, you can enjoy it here”:
Cheers! MA
I feel time passing.
May I yet know the Truth.
And may it set me free.
Free of the mind that chatters.
The thoughts that chain.
The beliefs that bruise
the very soul of this mortal life.
May I be free of it all.
Unencumbered by hate,
By the violence of my own mind.
Free of greed and fear and jealousy
That speak of a small quivering heart.
Free of it all.
May I be open and graceful,
Grace filled and – free.
Finally, truly – free.
Amen.
Forgiveness is such an enormous field of possibility.
I recently went through the trials of dealing with an understaffed, for-profit hospital system as I tried to keep my husband alive when his heart was failing. For huge segments of time, I lived in the free-fall of not knowing if he would make it.
All of it seemingly preventable – if only there was a functioning and responsive system.
I caught myself sliding down the chute of churning resentment at the inept, greedy, “all about money at all cost to the patient” “health-care” system. I might even be right about that assessment. But the bilious acid in my stomach was a sign of my own inner working gone awry.
And this is where forgiveness enters into all this. Because – the reality is – this is the system we have here. To not fight reality is a deep form of forgiveness.
To forgive does not mean “do nothing.” To do the best possible, given what is true in any moment, keeps us on track for right action. Being assertive in the face of the resistance of the system is what kept my husband alive. But not arguing with reality in a frenzy of anger means that we allow “Thy Will Be Done” in the bigger scheme of things.
In the end (meaning – at the moment) it has worked out. He did get a pacemaker in time. He is still beside me on the couch as I write this. And I have a new magnitude of gratitude for the fact that this is so.
My husband will die someday. I’ve been granted a window of realizing what that will be like. A taste in advance. And meanwhile, accepting each moment as it shows up will likely keep me alive and well longer, too!