Here’s a passage from my book The Translucent Revolution.

With the willingness to be less defined comes a loosening of our grip on the past. The past is of little use when you have no case to defend. If the trial is dismissed as boring and irrelevant, you can send the witnesses home to get on with their lives and dump the bulging dossier of carefully crafted case notes into the trash. Translucents have a natural interest in forgiving and moving on. Forgiveness is no longer a moral virtue, or something we need to practice, but the effortless by-product of no longer needing to protect anidentity with a story attached to it. The past is not healed; it simply ceases to be useful.

I know a woman named Sarah who had memories of abuse as a child. She was never quite sure which of the events she remembered actually happened, but they certainly all seemed real. She saw a number of therapists over many years. She visited her family from time to time; she tried to sit down with her father to find out what had really happened. She joined a support group. This identity, as a survivor of abuse, was one of the first things she would tell you about herself. Some years ago, Sarah came to a gathering I offered. She had an awakening; she discovered reality without the filters of her mind. (more…)

Here is a passage from my book The Translucent Revolution.

Maria attended one of our retreats a few years ago. Now in her fifties, she has been practicing meditation, which she had learned from a well-known Indian guru, for more than thirty years. She had a very calm, empty, silent presence. She dressed in plain, very sensible clothes, and her gray hair was cut in a short, boyish style. After some days, she told us that her greatest difficulty and disappointment was that she still had strong emotions. She felt herself overwhelmed by grief or anger from time to time, which both she and her husband agreed was a sign of weakness, a lack of depth in her meditation practice. (more…)

Here’s a passage from my book The Translucent Revolution.

The feminine in all of us intuitively knows how to feel. People with more feminine energy (usually, but not always, women), whether translucent or not, have a much greater intuitive capacity to feel than people with more masculine energy. Amy McCarrel also works with women to cultivate feminine translucence:

A woman’s heart is a genius of the moment. If you look around a room of people, women’s hearts are particularly sensitive in this way, constantly feeling what’s mean in the room, what’s closed in the room, what feels good in her body when somebody speaks, the sound of the voice, how relaxed it is, what they’re saying, or if it’s coming from a place of mental tension. It’s happening all the time.

The world is metered by my heart. The way somebody walks down the street: I’m safe, I can relax, or I need to protect myself. Just metering constantly what feels true, a truth meter. Woman can always know, feel, when a man’s words are correct. It’s truly one of the most profound gifts of the feminine, the genius of the heart, her inability to not feel. Everything is washing through. It’s coming in constantly, coming in, coming in, coming in. If something coming at it is less than true, it hits the heart and it hurts. If something comes at the heart that’s true, it washes through, and it opens. Whether I’m completely conscious or not in any given moment doesn’t alter the heart’s receptivity.

This feminine gift, of being able to feel everything in the body, can become contracted if we are caught in the Iago trance, and then it turns into melodrama. Consequently, the feminine in all of us is always afraid to be too much, to feel too much. It is also quite possible to have deep awakening, to be resting deeply in spaciousness, and to still be very shut down in one’s capacity to feel. A traditional masculine spiritual path can be very strong on wakefulness, but very weak on emotional embodiment; masculine-based spirituality has illustrated this for thousands of years. As a result, in most spiritual teachings, the advice has been to remain still, like a Buddha statue, to watch feelings pass, not to touch them. In a masculine approach, deeply feeling grief or anger would simply be a symptom of spiritual immaturity. Hypermasculine spirituality cannot help you to free up feeling, or to feel more deeply, because generally it has been founded by men who are themselves emotionally crippled. (more…)

This is a practice from my 2008 book Leap Before You Look.

Find a place in nature
Where you can go every day.

If you live in a city,
It could be a park or even a flowerbed,
But if you live near a forest, like we do,
Step into the wild outdoors.
Sit in exactly the same spot every day,
Facing in the same direction,
And just be with things as they are.
Feel through your skin;
Listen carefully;
Watch and pay attention to the colors and shapes and movement.
Be aware of the movement of the trees,
The sounds and activities of small animals and insects.
The boundaries where you end
And nature begins
Will dissolve.

At the core of modern humanity’s suffering is the feeling of separation. We feel separated from each other in the ways we relate. We feel separated from the other members of our family. We feel separated from each other in our religious beliefs. We feel separated financially, racially, nationally. We feel separated from ourselves and from nature and from the divine.

Nature is not a way to experience Oneness; nature is One. There is no me and not-me in nature: everything is interconnected. When you return to the same place every day, you are returning to an ecosystem that is constantly in relationship with itself. The bark of the tree is home to the ants, who move in and out of the earth. They are eaten sometimes by the birds, whose song fills the space, and whose excrement returns to the soil. Everything is part of everything else. Nature is making love to itself, and eating itself, and excreting itself on itself all the time. Nature is incestuous, cannibalistic, and totally uncivilized.

When you start to sit in the same spot every day, you will at first feel like an outsider. You are bringing your civilized mind into nature, like an intellectual from New York City trying to fit in on a farm. You may sit awkwardly on the edge of a tree trunk, trying not to get dirty or be bitten by bugs. And just as you may feel cut off from nature, so nature may also not yet open to you. But just wait a little while. As you relax into this place, it will affect you, and you will affect it as well. You will become a part of the ecosystem. You will be accepted into the family. After a while, you may even experience the trees and the birds welcoming you home each day.

Your visits to this place will become an initiation into Oneness.

You can discover 72 practices like this in Leap Before You Look.

Buy it now from our online store.