It is not so easy being a self-reliant and independent person. Try, work, struggle and try again. On and on, an endless cycle. Some people claim that work is fulfillment, and it is true that it can be just that. Whether that is something good for you, however, depends on your goals and perspective, depends on what you are looking to fill yourself with.

Another way of looking at this might be people some would label as irrational. They say their heads are filled with voices. But have you ever wondered where the voice you call your own comes from? How do you know whether the voice or voices you hear are yours?

When spiritual teachers talk about ‘emptying the mind,’ this can be a somewhat misleading expression. It suggests that there are no thoughts, nothing present. Emptying the mind is like taking a glass full of milk that has been left out on the table too long. The milk gets sour. So, we empty the glass and wash it out; this is emptying the mind of (s)our clutter. But it doesn’t stop there. We reach for a bottle of fresh milk, open the cap and let its’ cool liquid spill down our throat. This is the in-rush or through-put of living in the moment, allowing clear, clean thoughts to flow in and through us. We don’t think about drinking the milk; we just drink – and in the moment-by-moment drinking of it, we experience it – with little to no thought.

One way to get potable water is to desalinate it, while another way is to drink it straight from a fresh mountain spring. One way takes a great deal of effort to get from point A to point B; the other way is effortless – we simply drink it straight from the source.

We can’t drink an entire mountain stream. We sip some, some spills down our chin, and the rest flows downstream. Simply drink. Let thoughts flow in and out

It is not so easy being a self-reliant and independent person. So, stop thinking so much. Stop trying so hard. Open your mind and drink straight from the source.

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It can be like prison - clanging cell bars, mundane routines, endless years spent in isolation. The sun rises, the sun sets. Life is a shadowy blur, indistinct, without purpose.

When problems are piling up on us, and stress and depression are strangling our energy, we can easily cave in to the consequences of feeling overwhelmed. Floundering, perhaps lost in hopelessness or cynicism, we can become physically ill. Not only does our body become out of balance, but so can our emotions, our thinking and even our spirit. Our voice can take on the ring of defeat, even mocking our own ideals. Alone in a crowd, we drift in a state of solitary confinement, each prisoner peering through their own bars at the next.

Withdrawing into a cell may not necessarily be a bad thing; our private worlds may be helping us learn a greater lesson. But in this state we can be uninspiring to ourselves, and quite possibly to others. And our behaviors, however isolated, can create their own causes and effects. For those effects, on ourselves and others, we are responsible.

There was once a young cook who helped prepare meals for the military garrison in his town. One day, after a great deal of thought, he decided to visit the local monastery. Upon arriving, he requested an audience with the bishop and declared his desire to become a monk. Several interviews with his potential superiors were arranged, which gave the young man’s family and friends time to assess his motivations. It was determined by both family and clerics that he was not being foolhardy, but was thoughtful and deliberate. Strictly voluntary, this particular monastery was known for its practices of isolation, contemplation and mediation. Once the cook was accepted into the order, his life became one of withdrawal. When not attending to the monastery’s gardening needs and chores, he spent most of his time in his cell. In later years, he withdrew from the monastery and found a cave, where he spent the rest of his life.

It can be similar when we withdraw into depression, fear, anxiety and stress. Like the young monk, we are making a ‘free will choice’ to enter these cells. Sometimes these journeys are contemplative, but there are times where we sentence ourselves to jail.

It is not unusual to feel smothered in the dark grip of these solitary, inner chambers. We don’t remember that we are masters of intention and creation. We overlook that when the cell door closes behind us each night, it is never locked. There are no prison guards or wardens. We are able to leave our self-imposed exile at anytime, just like the monk.

Sometimes, after many years, the monks, much like prisoners, can become reluctant to leave the security that the routine of a cloistered and guarded life offers. Withdrawal can become deeply ingrained, a way of living, a security blanket of perceived protection, cutting off integration from the greater world by making integration something to be feared. This can make it difficult to see the fruits and rewards of certain types of withdrawal. It can also make it difficult to stand up and let the inner light shine through – we have become too used to our familiar friend, the dark.

Pacing the floors of our cells of despair, we ignore the ringing sound of the prison door keys, rattling and jangling at our waist. Whether tossing and turning on the hard bench of self incrimination, or squatting and pounding on the cold stone floor of surrender and self-pity, we forget who it is that is making the choice.

But outside, the sun rises and sets every day. Perched forever in a higher perspective, the sun sees who is living in shadowed withdrawal, and who is living more openly, nakedly exposed on treeless plains. Neither approach has an effect on the sun; it just sees choices being made. And for all who live in its kingdom, the sun shines and glows without bias, forever giving its light and life.

A solitary sunflower stands in a field, straining through the earth and beginning to grow. Surrounded and infused by sunlight, it grows tall because it finds its purpose and peace by being nothing more or less than what it is – a sunflower. And it grows and provides life-giving seeds in the simplest of ways - by letting the sun shine in.

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If you follow your heart and cause damage, should you suffer or rejoice?

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Certain forms of retreat are fine: a general signals retreat, and the army falls back to prevent certain defeat; a spouse retracts an insult hurled in a moment of anger; a defendant backs off a statement in the face of perjury charges; a politician retreats from a position when opposing public opinion swells. These are the kinds of retreats and retractions we are familiar with.

There is a different kind of retreat.

When we encounter a deeper truth, about ourselves or about life, such truths can cause us to recoil from our new-found awareness. This is a form of retreat we often refuse to acknowledge. When we encounter an exceptionally deep truth, one characteristic of exceptional depth is that truth resonates in a manner that is undeniable. It is not, however, simply the resonance itself we can’t deny; it is the deeper truth itself that is undeniable. It is a case of undeniable, self evident truth.

When we experience deeper, self evident truth we have a choice to either accept it at face value or deny it. Obviously, it is very hard to deny something that is undeniably true. Yet we do. And that creates conflict.

Deeper inner conflict will not resolve itself until we accept the deeper inner truth that we are in conflict with.

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If you want to measure the value of a person’s life, look at the affect of their life on their world, on the people in their life. Look into their close relationships. Look at how they make other’s feel about themselves.

There is no need to wait until we die to stand before the so-called Seat of Judgment. It is all happening right now, in plain view.

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Serenity has a wonderful post, On Being, discussing keeping our four dimenions of Being in balance: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual.

Being able to keep multi-dimensional balance is essential for walking deeper and deeper down the path of inner understanding and awareness. While often challenging, and sometimes painful, I have always found it productive to do the work of improving myself in each of these areas, including learning to balance them relative to each other and toward my purpose and goals.

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Guest contibutor Jen Coleman offers some glimpses into dealing with family dynamics:

Sometimes when we have loved ones in our lives who have a serious problem, it causes us – almost forces us – to look within ourselves to see the reflection of that problem. Since we are all mirrors of ourselves, the only way we can effectively help the person in need is by first dealing with it in our own lives. In my opinion, it’s not the problem that defines us, but how we deal with it and how we work it out. That’s when our true colors really come to light.

Through Great River Institute and the teachings of Master Scott Walter and Sensei Mark Walter, I’ve learned that when dealing with issues, there are four levels we go through: Physical, emotional, mental and spiritual – physical being the lowest and spiritual the highest. These teachers state that in order to achieve higher understanding of our condition, and when we are faced with difficult situations, we must reach for and balance ourselves in a level above our comfort zone, pushing ourselves beyond where our normal tendencies lie.

It’s pretty easy to determine what level you are most comfortable in. I, for example, seem to reside almost full time in the emotional realm. As a matter of fact, most of my family happens to be right there with me. When faced with a situation where all family members must come together to deal with a problem, it makes reaching for higher learning that much more difficult because we are all operating on the same level. We then start to internalize issues within the group.

What gets even more interesting is when one person in the group tries to reach for the higher level and the others don’t. All of a sudden, you are no longer recognizable to the others in your group. It’s as if we have roles to play in each other’s lives. When we deviate from that role, it can knock the others off balance, causing even more discontent within the group. If we let that notion really get to us, we hinder ourselves from the lesson and growth we would have achieved. After all, we are here to become greater visions of ourselves, right?

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