In examining ourselves, we might find it useful to look at distinct aspects of our personality.  For example, we might have an artist within and a critic within, and these two battle within our psyche causing stress and confusion.  If we try to ignore or quash the voice of either the artist or the critic, we’ll continue to be haunted with this conflict, and the aspects will come out of shadow in inappropriate ways.  These voices have gifts for us, and deserve to be heard and honored.  One way to do that is through a written dialogue between you and the voices.  This can be done in your journal in a stage play format.  To continue with the example above:

• Me:     I want to talk to the critic.  (Nothing.)  Calling the critic.  Are you there?  (Nothing.) Well, is the artist around?
• Artist:     Here I am.
• Critic:     Get back in there, you!
• Me:     Critic, what do you want?
• Critic:     Shut up!
• Me:     I’m listening.  It sounds like you’re angry.  What’s going on?
• Critic:     You think you’re an artist.  You don’t know what you’re doing.
• Me:     Well, can you give me a minute to talk to the artist?
• Artist:     I’m scared.
• Me:     I know you’re scared.  I’ll take care of you….

You get the idea.  You can do this with the good or bad father part of you, the good or bad mother parts, your positive masculine or feminine energy, or whatever voices you sense.  You may find some new voice creeps into the conversation, and you’re not sure what to make of this new energy.  Some questions to ask the voices are:

•  Who are you?
•  What do you want?
•  What role do you play here?
•  What are you trying to protect?
•  How do you feel?

For the above example, my critic serves to protect me from outside criticism by keeping me from trying.  I find it useful to believe that no part actually means to hurt us, that each wants what’s best for us, like a father, but some serve us from a misguided, destructive way.  And like a father, the critic wants to be honored and respected.  The thing to do here is to say, “Critic, I thank you and honor you for trying to protect me from getting hurt.  Your harsh criticism isn’t serving me well now.  I need you to back off so I can create some art.  I will continue to honor you and recognize the gift of careful analysis that you offer.  For your part, I want you to lower your voice, speak less, and be more respectful.”

Let me know if you’d like some guidance on this process.

Like myths and fairytales, dreams contain messages from beyond our consciousness, and require our careful listening, interpretation, and gratitude.  Consider them as from a wise elder within who knows the answers to our questions, and the direction we need to go in.
    
One night, I dreamed that I was in my living room, making a model house from popsicle sticks.  A knock came at the door.  It was a hippie type, wanting to stay with me for a while.  I let him in, and soon a friend of his showed up.  They hung out on the couch, lounging and enjoying themselves, while I continued to work carefully on my creation.  I began to feel indignant at the loungers.  Why weren’t they out looking for work, instead of sitting here being lazy?  I said something to them about this, and then left the room for a few minutes.  When I returned, the loungers and my model house were gone.  I ran out of the house and around the back, where there was a bayou.  Somehow I knew that they had taken the house and thrown it into the bayou, but I could not tell where they had thrown it, as the water was dark with muck and seaweed.  I ran to the front of the house, to the street, and saw the loungers taking off in their old VW van.  I yelled after them, “At least tell me where you threw it!”  They stopped the van, got out, and began coming towards me.  I became afraid that they were going to beat me up, but instead they stood on either side of me, flailed their arms like rappers, and made funny faces, mocking me.  I woke up.
    
For me, this was a message to lighten up, that I was being too serious and trying to order my life just so.  Truthfully, I have little control over what happens to me.  How did I arrive at this interpretation?  Well, I know how I live my life for one thing.  The most important interpretation is the dreamer’s, not one taken from a dream dictionary or given by a guru.  A house is often a symbol of consciousness, and the dark water symbolized the unknown.  The loungers were tricksters and part of my shadow, that part of me that I hide, repress, and deny.  They represented the lounger and trickster in me, which I was repressing in my focus to be serious and order things just the way I wanted them.  If I had not had, understood, and applied this dream to my life, then my shadow might have really knocked me down, perhaps getting me fired from my job through some stupid acting out.  I’m grateful for the dream, and for the trickster within.
    
If you want to remember your dreams, try this.  Keep a notebook and pen near your bed at night.  As you lay in bed, ready to sleep, tell yourself or your unconscious, “I want to remember my dreams.  I want to remember my dreams.”  You might even ask for an answer to a problem.  When you wake in the morning or during the night, don’t move or open your eyes.  Try lightly to catch a piece of your dream and then let it link up with other pieces.  Collect as many pieces of the dream as you can, and go over the whole dream sequence in your head before you open your eyes.  Then, immediately write everything down, as fast as you can.  You might draw images where words won’t do justice.  Don’t dismiss any detail as unimportant.  Be sure to write down any names or messages you heard or saw.  Also, be sure to focus on what you felt at different moments in the dream.  Try to not make interpretations or logical links, even if the dream seems disjointed and confusing.  When you’re done, say a thank you to the universe for having and remembering your dream.  Your intention and gratitude will help the dreams continue to surface.
    
For dream interpretation, Robert Johnson’s Inner Work is the best I’ve read.  He suggests that you take each image or event in the dream and brainstorm associations with it.  Don’t settle for one, but make as many associations as you can about each piece.  When you’ve made all your associations, then see if you can make sense of the associations and what these associations reflect about your life.  Johnson also recommends that after you make your interpretation, or even if you’re not sure what the dream was about, you perform some simple ritual to honor the dream.  The ritual may help you move through whatever change needs to happen, and the honoring spurs greater remembrance of your dreams.
    
In myth, fairy tale, and dreams, certain symbols have universal meaning.  For instance, a river or road may indicate your life path; a lake may be the feminine; a mountaintop or attic may be a place of wisdom or communion with god; your own house may be your consciousness; a place of darkness may be the unknown or mysterious, a cave may be sinking into a deeper part of yourself; falling or no brakes may mean you’re out of control; someone else in the driver’s seat may mean that you’ve given up your power.  I could go on.  More can be gleamed by reading books on dreams and symbols.  But again, be careful about believing explanations in a dream dictionary.
    
If you dream of your father in a dream, he may represent your father, or that part of you that is a father, or your Superego, or some characteristic of yours that your father holds up for you.  If you dream of a message from god, this may be a message from your higher consciousness or inner guide, or it may be from god!  Of course, dreaming of running water may just mean that you have to go to the bathroom.  Dreaming of chocolate cake may mean that you want chocolate cake.  We can look at dreams from many angles.  Don’t limit yourself to one system.
    
In the mornings during New Orleans Men’s Center retreats, some of us gather round a fire or coffee table and share our nocturnal dreams.  Some men bring recurring dreams or a powerful or perplexing dream they may have had months ago.  After a man shares the basic dream, we usually ask for more clarity about details, thoughts, or feelings the man had in the dream.  Then, each man offers what it brought up for him and what he thinks it’s about.  Just like story discussions, the interpretations are as varied as the number of men present.  In the end, of course, it’s up to the dreamer to find the right meaning.  I’ve found dream circles to be enormously helpful in understanding my own dreams, and I’ve received gifts from other dreams, too.

I’d love to hear your dream!

Perhaps you’ve read poems, myths, and fairytales and never got much out of them.  This type of literature is meant to be spoken and heard.  When spoken, these works somehow slip below the surface of logic understanding and connect directly with the soul.  Try having a friend read the Rumi poem to you, and see if you get new meaning from it.  Ancient myths and fairytales survive because their truths are universal, because they are born of a common human consciousness and wisdom that knows what we need to make our way through life.
    
I suggest you and a partner each memorize a short tale and then take turns telling the stories to each other.  As a storyteller, find a story that has meaning to you, learn it until it becomes part of you, tell it as though you were there, and don’t rush.  As a listener, try not to analyze everything in the story while listening.  Rather, pay attention to how you feel at different moments, and what images or events strike you as powerful, and enjoy the story!  Later, you can wonder how the story is like your life and what it has to teach you.  You and your partner can then share your experiences.  When a story is told in a group and sharing follows, you’ll find that the differences in lessons can be startling.  Following are my accounts of two tales good for group tellings.  The first is a fairytale from Africa.  The second is a parable from China.

In the Snake’s Belly
A long time ago, in the jungles of Africa, there were snakes that were much larger than the snakes of today.  They were huge.  They could eat tigers and antelopes, but their favorite food was the human.  In one particular village, the people lived in constant fear.  The snakes came through at all hours, and took what they wanted.  A mother was crying there, lamenting the loss of both of her children taken by the snakes.  The people said that something must be done.  A man was listening to the woman’s story.  He was a gifted flute player, and he loved to walk around the village playing his flute.  

He heard this woman’s sorrow and felt compassion.  He knew that something must be done.  So, he put his knife in his sheath, and walked into the jungle, playing his flute as he went.  He found a clearing and chose a spot to sit, and continued playing his flute.  He could not see the snake coming towards him from the dark jungle, but he sensed it, and still he played on.  Finally, the snake lunged at him and swallowed him with a single gulp.

All was dark.  He heard the faint beating of the snake’s heart.  He was in the snake’s belly.  It was tight, warm, and damp, and the man struggled to reach his knife.  He slowly pulled the knife free and poked at the inside of the snake’s belly.  The snake, feeling the pain, loosened his muscles and gave the man as much room as he could.  After a while, the man grew hungry, so he took his knife, carved a piece of meat from the snake’s belly, and ate.  The snake writhed in agony, but what could he do?  The man waited a long time in the belly, and ate whenever he was hungry.  The snake, in his terrible pain, went to his brother and sister snakes, and told them not to eat of these humans.  The pain was too great.

The man continued to eat, slowly making his way towards the snake’s heart, hearing the beat getting louder and louder.  Finally, he came to the snake’s heart and plunged his knife in.  The snake died and the man emerged into the light of day.  He immediately took up his flute and began walking to his village, playing as he went.  The people were surprised to see him.  He had been gone a long time.  He told them that he had been in the belly of the snake.  At first, they did not believe him, but then he showed them a piece of the snake’s heart, and so they knew that it was true.

The Mule in the Road
One day, old Mack came to town, towing his pack mule behind him.  Mack came to the general store on Main Street, tied up his mule, and went in for supplies.  Now this was the days before cars, and the streets were very narrow, and there was much commerce done of this Main Street.  Old Mac’s mule was a very ornery one, and as the people tried to pass behind or in front, the mule would shuffle about braying, kicking, and biting.  Children and brave men all tried to get around the mule, but no one could.  A couple of men tried to grab the mule’s leash, and almost got their hands bitten off.  Someone said, “We’ve got to get old Mac to move his mule.”  So, a few people went into the general store, but Mac had gotten sick, and was resting on a cot in the back.  They called for a doctor, and the doctor said, “I’m sorry to say that old Mac is very sick, and he can’t be moved for two weeks.”  The people of the town didn’t know what to do.  How would they conduct their business? 

Then Sherman walked up.  The people knew Sherman to be a wise old man.  Perhaps he could figure out what to do.  Sherman said, “Well, I have to go down the street myself.”  So he thought and looked around.  Suddenly he began to walk down an alley along the side of the store, and then he disappeared around the corner.  “Where is he going?” the people said.  After a while he emerged from another alley farther down the street, on the other side of the mule.  He continued down the street to conduct his business.  The people stood there with their mouths open, and someone said, “But what about the mule?!”

Our relationship to others can help us listen to parts of ourselves that yearn to be expressed.  The shadow is that part of ourselves that we hide, repress, or deny.  We tend to project our shadow onto others, causing us to experience strong emotions.  For instance, I might see a friend acting snobbish and get angry because the snob is a part of me that I don’t like.  If I can recognize this projection, then my feeling of anger immediately dissipates, and I’m less likely to act out towards the person in anger.  I also recognize that my friend has held up a mirror for me.  Now I can examine why this shadow exists in my life: my stepmother tended to be snobbish and that’s wrapped up in my not getting affection from her.  Also, my pretending that I’m better than others keeps me at a distance, protecting me from getting hurt.  It’s also really about the opposite: not being good enough.  As you can see, I find many gifts in looking at just this one shadow, and now I’m grateful to my snobby friend.  I can also own that part of me that is a snob, and see if that part of me has a gift I can use: acting like a snob may help me get work in certain circles.
    
Besides this dark shadow, the shadow may be golden.  I see a talented artist and feel a tremendous admiration.  Perhaps she holds up the artist in me who yearns to express.  I might be thinking that my talent pales in comparison, so why bother?  This keeps my shadow repressed, and if I don’t honor my shadow, it may come out in inappropriate ways.  For instance, I might find myself criticizing a friend’s painting.  I would much rather buy a few art supplies and allow my own creativity to flourish.
    
Try this.  Make a list of people who annoy you, infuriate you, frustrate you, or scare you.  These may be real or fictitious, the famous or familiar.  Next to each, note their behaviors or character traits that really get to you.  On a fresh sheet, make a list of people you admire or envy, or people you feel happy being around.  Next to each, note their behaviors or character traits that cause you to feel that way about them.  Don’t go on to the next step until you’re done!
    
Look over your lists of behaviors and character traits.  See if any repeat and circle these.  Assume for the moment that these traits are your dark and golden shadows.  Journal about how these shadows might have come to exist based on your history, how these shadows manifest themselves in your life, what gifts the shadow holds for you, and how you might honor and own each shadow so it doesn’t own you.

Sometimes when I talk with someone who is not familiar with active listening, I get frustrated.  The other person interrupts me when I’m talking, begins talking about himself, makes assumptions, makes judgments about me, offers unsolicited advice, is distracted, or changes the subject.  Listening is not about fixing someone, defending, analyzing, or avoiding uncomfortable subjects.  Listening is about assisting someone in exploring and discovering things for themselves.  Most listening means paying attention, trying to understand, being quiet, nodding and saying “uh-huh”, and occasionally responding with affirmations of feelings and summaries of what the person is talking about.  Rarely one would ask questions or make observations, and for this the listener might ask permission first.
    
Mirroring means repeating what you heard someone say so that the listener is clear about what was said and so that the speaker feels heard.  Try this with a partner.  Sit across from each other and decide who will speak first.  The listener will stay quiet, listen attentively, maintain eye contact, and ask questions only for clarification.  The speaker will talk for five minutes about the past week (or a topic of your choosing) and focus on feeling words.  At the end of five minutes the listener will speak for about a minute, summing up what he or she heard and focusing on feeling words.  The listener is not to make judgments or offer advice, though feelings might be inferred.  The speaker can clarify anything the listener missed.  Then the partners switch roles and repeat.  You may find a deep relief in just being heard without judgment.

We can also listen to ourselves by drawing mandalas, what I call a snapshot of the psyche in art.  Carl Jung developed and popularized mandalas, painting some complicated and beautiful symmetrical art.  I like to make mandalas when I’m not sure how I’m feeling, or when I’m feeling bad and I can’t figure out why.  Here’s how to do it:

Have a few large sheets of drawing paper, and some colored drawing utensils.  I like to use newsprint and pastels.  Crayons work well, also.  Work in a space where you can meditate and be alone for half an hour.  Open all your supplies so you can get right to work when moved.  Hand draw a large circle in the center of the paper.  Close your eyes and begin to clear your mind.  Take some deep breaths.  Wait for an image to come to you.  When you see something, grab the right color and draw in the right spot on the paper.  Try not to think too much, and don’t worry about making it a pretty piece of art – that’s not the point.  Continue to meditate and add images to your mandala until your mind ceases to bring you images or you feel the work is complete.  When you’re done, look at the whole work, and see what comes up for you.  Look at the colors and images.  What emotions appear present?  What could some of the shapes represent from your life?  You might journal about what you see and what’s coming up for you.  When you’re done, turn over your drawing.  Write the date and a few sentences about what’s going on in your life and what you see in the mandala.  After a series of mandalas, you might see certain themes repeating, which might prove additionally helpful.

I think many men and some women simply don’t know how they feel, or how to identify their feelings, or feel comfortable expressing those feelings.  Letting the soul breathe, connecting with people on a deep level, and moving through pain and into peace, requires that we be able to know and express our deepest feelings.

Try this.  Quiet your mind and take some deep breaths.  Feel the earth beneath you.  Be present to whatever is around you, but don’t hold onto anything.  Allow thoughts to come and go without latching onto them.  Sink into your body.  What do you feel?  If you can’t identify a feeling, what are you feeling physically in your body?  Go to these places, perhaps touch yourself here, and listen for a feeling.  Still not sure?  Basic feelings are sad, angry, afraid, joyful, and perhaps guilt and shame.  If you had to guess, which would you pick?  You may be feeling all of these feelings at the same time!  If you’re saying “I feel like…” or “I feel that…”, then what follows is not a feeling but a judgment or what you think.  What’s the feeling behind this judgment?  Hopefully, you’ve identified some feelings.  Now consider what these feelings are about.  You don’t need a long story; see if you can boil it down to a sentence or two.  Share this with a good listener or write in your journal.  Try listening to your feelings as often as you can.

My favorite poem speaks to the importance of listening to and valuing all of our feelings.  “The Guest House” by Rumi, a 13th century Sufi mystic, was translated by Coleman Barks.  Barks had a link to this site, so I assume he gave permission:  The Guest House

The universe speaks to us constantly, if we would only listen.  The wind whispers to us, the storm shouts, and the animals, trees, and rocks have special messages.  The listening requires time, deep breathing, and the letting go of thoughts.  I recommend an occasional day alone in nature, especially if you are looking for direction.  Consider fasting, but take nutrition bars in case you feel faint.  Tell someone where you’re going and when you’ll be back.  Bring also water, a journal, and anything you need to protect yourself from the elements and to make sure you get back safely.

You may want to spend some time observing nature, journaling, playing an instrument, meditating, praying, talking to the plants and animals around you, or going on a shamanic journey.  You might build an altar or medicine circle out of natural objects.  Be sure to return the space to its natural condition.

Many people spend too much time, in my judgment, talking, interrupting, doing, planning, analyzing, and filling time and space with noise and a barrage of images and information.  For some, the constant noise serves to numb us from our feelings, to avoid going into the dark places.  We must learn to listen – to nature, to our feelings, to each other, to poems and stories, and to our dreams.

The following is a site map to the articles about listening on my website.  If you have comments about these writings, these pieces are also posted in the blog under the Listening to Life category.

Contents:
Listening to Nature
Listening to Feelings            The Guest House by Rumi          Mandalas
Listening to Each Other
Listening to the Shadow
Listening to Poems and Stories         In the Snake’s Belly         The Mule in the Road
Listening to Dreams
Multiple Aspects of Your Personality