hope


I’m back after an extended absence from the world of blogging. Finally I have the space and inspiration to get back to it, to share my experience, and to hear all about yours. What your heart feels, what you’re learning about yourself, the cobwebs, the crevices, the light and dark. What a journey we’re on. The world would be a very different place if we each had our own planet and we did this thing called life alone. Thank god we get to share  love, that wellspring of goodness.

Since I’ve been away from blogging I’ve had some fabulous experiences. I sat a 20-day Vipassana course in November. It was a doozy but I am incredibly grateful for the experience, for what I gained (or lost…depending on your angle).

I spent 2 weeks in February at the Optimum Health Institute. The Optimum Health Institute is a raw/living food detoxification program. You eat a raw diet designed for detoxification &  drink more wheatgrass than you ever thought humanly possible (you do other things with the wheatgrass as well, but they are better left off the blog). Why would you want to subject yourself to this? Some people go to treat “health opportunities” (that is OHI code for illness or disease, and feels much different when you say it…opportunity implies you can make a difference…this rings really true if you have a health opportunity like I have). Others go simply to clean up. After years of eating things that come from a can or a box and have lists of ingredients that you can’t pronounce, the body becomes a bit of a toxic dump. (Poor, poor temple. What have we done to thou?) At OHI you detox and come away feeling like a shiny temple inside. Truly. When I returned home people couldn’t stop telling me how amazing my skin looked, how amazing I looked. I do not eat an exclusively raw diet now, but 2 meals a day and all of my snacks are raw, and the cooked food I eat is food I’ve made myself so I know what is in it (no more dairy, refined sugar, gluten, caffeine….yes I broke that wicked black tea habit). The experience at OHI was a huge act of self-love.

Lastly, my favorite yoga teacher read a poem in class the other day by Hafiz. It moved me to tears. Of course I am also just really happy to be back at yoga, because status post the development of my health opportunity 3 years ago, it has taken a while for me to get back to her level of class. My gawd does it feel heavenly . The poem:

“Your Mother and My Mother”

Fear is the cheapest room in the house
I would like to see you living
In better conditions,
for your mother and my mother
Were friends.

I know the Innkeeper
In this part of the universe.
Get some rest tonight,
Come to my verse tomorrow.
We’ll go speak to the Friend together.

I should not make any promises right now,
But I know if you
Pray
Somewhere in this world-
Something good will happen.

God wants to see
More love and playfulness in your eyes
For that is your greatest witness to Him.


Your soul and my soul
Once sat together in the Beloved’s womb
Playing footsie.

Your heart and my heart
are very, very old
Friends.


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The false summit phenomenon happens when you’ve been hiking all day, and hungry, thirsty, and borderline headache from the altitude looming, you think you’re about to summit. It looks like the peak is right before you and you’re going to bag it and merrily make your way down the mountain. But just as you reach the so-called peak, you realize it is not actually the summit. Rather it is a false summit, and behind it looms the actual peak and it always seems a bit bigger and more daunting than the first. Not to mention you now have that headache from the altitude.

The options are to employ your (in the words of Liz Rosenberg) divine stubborness and climb that second peak. Or turn around and go home because you’re a bit disappointed and feel, well, a little deflated.

After spending several days steeped in the realities of the New York publishing industry at the Backspace Writer’s Conference,  I realize that what I had my sights set on was a false summit. I’ve been working on a book for two years entitled “Learning to Walk in India.” Finishing the book is the easy part. The false summit. And I pause, with merely a hint of deflation left as I tighten the pack (that’s backpack for us Coloradans), take a long sip of water (that’s meditate for us sitters), and keep pressing on with a resolve as mighty as the task at hand.  There is no turning back here. Only one foot slowly in front of the other as I look toward the second peak. 

After all, the journey is the destination.

I was really moved to return and see all of your comments on that last post, What is happiness. You guys make me happy. Well, you rock, really.

Alice, I would have loved to have met you in NYC. Just logged on this morning. Perhaps next time when my book is being published…  :)

Barry, thanks for the link to Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche’s song: What About Me. I listened to it this morning. It was just what I needed to hear. If anyone has a few moments, I recommend checking it out. We first encountered it on Alice’s blog and then Barry reminded me of it, saying that the video clip makes it clear that “happiness-the heart being free-comes when we turn away from “What about me?” and turn toward “How can I help you?”. Thanks, all of you.

 

What About Me:

 


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“Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.” ~Walt Whitman

 

Recently, blogger Alex, the fem de force  behind gypsygirlsguide, asked what she would see if she were allowed a peek inside. Inside us, the reader. It caused me to pause and think about this. And to feel it, the inside. And to ask what is there. And when I closed my eyes and sat with all of it I experienced the vastness that I contain. The multitudes that Whitman speaks about. 

At once there is storm and rain, but also deep blue skies the hues of which my conscious mind has only dreamt of experiencing. There is rich fertile soil juxtaposed with sand from a desert devoid of moisture. There is light so bright it is blinding, and a darkness so complete it feels impenetrable. There is wild laughter from a heart light and free, and deep despair that brings me to my knees with the weight of suffering. There are birds chirping and coyotes howling at the moon. There are frogs croaking their  delight at being submerged in mud up to their eyeballs, and sweet cats curled up in late afternoon  sunshine streaming in through a glass window. There are a million cars honking all at once on a busy street in Mumbai, and if you pause for a moment, through it all, there is a quiet stillness so vast it teeters on the edge of extinguishing all of it.

And this ever-morphing all-of-it, it’s me. Vectoring towards the vast quiet stillness, but allowing the dark, the light,the filth, the purity, the noise, the quiet. That word allow, I am taking it on as my mantra for this, the dawn of my thirty-fifth year.

 

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The glorious present–it is what practice is all about. Dwelling more often in the moment we’re in, instead of having mind in future or mind in past. 

Last night I was at dinner with a dear friend and she asked how I’m doing with regard to my husband having been laid off over a month ago, and still looking for gainful employment.

I’m doing well, I said. And it is true. I went on, as long as I stay in the present I am fine with it. It is when I begin to let my mind drift into the “What if…” that I feel a panic begin to grip my heart. That what if is not real. It is not here and now. 

I am so very grateful that both my husband and I have a practice. We know it is important, but when the big life situations present themselves, you’re able to see just how lucky you really are, and the fruits of your labor can be tasted. 

So this brings me to the thought for the week. My brother who lives in Santa Cruz saw Lama Surya Das speak recently at the Santa Cruz Vipassana Center. He heard him say “Practice is perfect. Practice does not make perfect.” I love this so much I might paste it on my forehead so I’ll see it every time I look in the mirror.

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I met Marie-Ancolie on the blogosphere recently. Marie lives in France and self taught herself photography in 2005 after she underwent a big open heart surgery. She says, “One day in my room in the clinic, looking through windows, the sky was blue but not the same blue as before, the cloud, pure white floating in the air as light as a silk scarf…It was the end of August 2005. I was almost 55 years old and I was alive…From the dark comes the light and the life.” 

Well said, Marie. Her book of photographs can be previewed at The Light of a Soul - check it out if you have a moment or two. Some of these photos literally made me stop breathing. They are exquisite. The one of the single dandelion seed floating through the air will be hanging on my wall in the near future. She will sell individual prints. If you wish to contact her she is available at marieancolie at gmail.com. Both photos in this post are hers.

I was moved by her photos and her spirit. Anyone who goes through what she did and comes out with this kind of love and inspiration, is inspiration to us all.  And the fact that she self taught herself  photography at the age of 55 and takes these kind of pictures 4 years later is motivation to all of us to get on with it.

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I am feeling the need to extoll the health benefits of turmeric today. I discovered turmeric as a panacea when I became very sick in 2007. When you aren’t sure if you’ll ever walk normally again, you’ll do just about anything. Well it turns out that turmeric, which is also known as circumen, is  a member of the ginger family and has been around for thousands of years. It is revered as a staple in Ayurvedic medicine, among its many uses being taken in a warm glass of milk three times a day to ward off colds and flu. In Eastern religions it is used in ceremonies and pujas. And women actually wear it on their skin for good fortune. 

I started putting a half a teaspoon in water and drinking it once a day, and I have recently started doing this twice a day. Turmeric is a powerful anti-inflammatory, therefore it helps sufferers with diseases like arthritis and inflammatory bowel disease. It is used widely in cancer prevention. It inhibits cancer cell growth and metasteses. It improves liver function, lowers cholesterol, protects against Alzheimers, and cardiovascular disease. And it is inexpensive. I buy it at the Vitamin Cottage in Boulder in bulk and it costs $4.16/lb (I buy a little over a 1/4 lb at a time). Or you could buy it in pre-packaged capsules, but it is far more expensive and you don’t really need the gelatin capsule. Note: I read somewhere that it takes a couple of months of regular use for the health benefits to take effect.

I can’t say that the turmeric alone is making the difference in my life, as I eat a clean diet, I exercise, meditate, do yoga, get acupuncture 2-3 times a month, and keep things simple. But it resonates for me that I should include it, so I do. And I live a fairly symptom-free existence these days. Except for when I break down and eat sugar and other unwholesome foods, which does occasionally happen. My how the body becomes the barometer.

Here is a good article on the health benefits of turmeric, and there is far more research out there on the world wide web. Western medicine is finally catching on.

 

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As you guys know, I love Rumi. Love him. In fact, in a past life I am convinced I sat on a dirt floor drinking tea and being mesmerized by his words. In a wishful thinking kind of way. At any rate, I wanted to comment on the ‘thought for the week’.

“Whoever finds love beneath hurt and grief disappears into emptiness with a thousand new disguises.”

You read the words and you think (well, I do), how right he is, and how romantic it sounds. “Yes, turn my hurt and grief into love!”

The truth of the matter is that I will not actually be disappearing into emptiness with a thousand new disguises today, tomorrow, next week, or next month. Because taking hurt and grief and doing anything with it is so much more difficult in the moment than it sounds. My practice is to observe sensations at the level of the body. If I can actually remember to do this in the moment when I am stewing in either hurt or grief, then it is true, the strong emotion/reaction I am feeling, be it hurt or grief or anything else, fades much more quickly and I am less likely to react to the other person. But it is a practice, and I have not perfected it yet. It certainly doesn’t feel like I am about to disappear into emptiness with a thousand new disguises.

But I can see that with continued practice the time spent steeped in the negative emotion does become less, and I am able to come out of the reaction far more quickly, and therefore return to a place of love more quickly. So Rumi’s words, although seemingly a lofty goal, are attainable. In this life. If we are able to come into and really be with the negativity which is arising within us, which is not actually caused by someone else, I suppose that we are on our way to “disappearing into emptiness with a thousand new disguises.” 

If you actually get there for more than a few moments at a time, let me know. I might just have some questions for you.

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I was thinking recently (when I wasn’t supposed to be indulging in thinking, but just couldn’t help myself), that we are all puzzle pieces. And that which defines us, our borders, is ever-morphing in response to our own growth and transformation. So one day we might fit neatly into the larger puzzle, and then a few weeks, months, or years later, either we’ve morphed or the collective has morphed so we don’t fit any more. Then it is time to move on. Whether a friendship, a job, a location, whatever it happens to be. And it isn’t good, bad, right, or wrong. It simply is. Too often I believe we feel the need to overanalyze, to condemn it if it no longer works for us. But really, it is that the fit just isn’t a good one any longer.

Typically, I think, if it resonates it is working. And usually we know this on the gut level if we are paying attention.

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the pull of what you really love…”

 

 

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The ten days of silence were quite productive. Excruciating at times. Wonderful at times. But productive, which is what we are going for here. I felt moved to share an insight for today’s post. Not anything we don’t already know. But I got it on a much deeper level.

I was able to observe my energy and how it reaches out and tries to wrap itself around another’s “dysfunction”, for lack of a better word, and fix it, change it. Or it could be something someone is talking about which is absolutely false. Or it could be someone excruciatingly overanalyzing a situation. I tend(ed) to take it on as my own burden to try and correct, fix. And it takes an immense amount of energy to do so. And usually it doesn’t feel good to me. Upon really close observation I see that it is my ego’s way of trying to correct things to fit my world view. To make it right. But we don’t all wear rose-colored glasses. In fact, I would venture to say that all of our glasses are slightly different shades of many different colors. 

When appropriate, it is far simpler just to observe whatever reaction I might be having to what someone is saying or doing, than to step in and try and alter things in any way. It feels better. There is almost a sense of relief that comes with not needing to defend anything. Even though I still have the urge to do so. In silence there is immense freedom.

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For some reason I was thinking about roses yesterday. Maybe because it was snowing with a high of eighteen degrees in Boulder.

I thought about my Grandmother’s rose garden. If I were to take a still of it, there would be some roses open fully to the sun, some half-opened, and some still tightly closed nascent buds, without a hint of bloom.

Each of these roses– perfect in it’s own timing, it’s own process– is a sacred becoming. And I suppose if I really thought about it it isn’t even a becoming. It is a “just is”. 

If I were to go forward with this knowledge fully in my heart from moment to moment, then when I witness my own unconscious moments, or other’s unconscious moments, I would be far more accepting on the deepest level. I would not be as judgmental. I might even feel deep love and compassion for them. Their process is every bit as sacred as my own, however it looks. 

~

Tomorrow I am leaving for a silent meditation course in Texas. I’ll be back to the blogosphere on Feb 9th. On Feb 1, I’ll begin the 100 days of practice that I blogged about here. 

Some time ago, a fellow blogger who goes by bezen.wordpress.com posted this on his site. It feels appropriate to use it (again):

“The more you talk and think about it,

the further astray you wander from the truth.

Stop talking and thinking,

and there is nothing you will not be able to know…”

 

excerpted from Verses on Faith-Mind by Seng-T’san (translated by Richard B Clark)

 

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