I remember when my mother was dying. I was getting ready for my orals in graduate school and the one thing I couldn’t have imagined, since all mothers are invincible, is that my healthy, vivacious, 83-year-old, artist mother would die.
Time stood still as the nurse put me through to her hospital room.
I suspect this question is so deeply personal that it’s like a fingerprint: each of us will respond from the life conditions that have shaped each of us, and shape us still.
There is strong folklore about the value of the suffering artist to her art; that dark times allow for greatness. Personally, I’m not so sure it’s a useful way to look at suffering.
As I illuminated in Part 1, the power of intention is a simple, decades-old practice that blends the spiritual with the psychological and the practical.
And then, there’s intention as a specific neurological landscape.
No matter how many times we chant―sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me―some part of us knows this is not true.
True, they can‘t break bones, but that‘s because words don‘t operate in the physical dimension. Jump into the emotional dimension and it‘s a very different story.