Restlessness has been hanging around my back door lately. When she is content, she just lies in the backyard looking up at the sky. She dreams in the daytime and counts the stars at night. Ever hungry for attention, and in ever need of a thrill, she and Passion are soul-mates. Mostly, I enjoy her company; however, she does tend to stir the pot. She reminds me not to spend too much time with Complacency, such a dreadful old bore. Unfortunately, she can relentlessly argue with Order and Discipline.
While I was in the mist of a few big projects a couple of weeks ago, apparently Restlessness had felt ignored. It's true I hadn't been thinking of her much recently. Scared the heebeejeebees out of me, she about did! Around midnight one night, she poked her head around the corner while I was intensely focused, writing at the computer. In that sort of raspy, enchanting voice of hers, with a slight inflection of teasing, she asked, "Watcha doin'? Haven't seen much of you lately. Where ya been?" Knowing that she was not one to be ignored, I shut down the computer, poured us a glass a wine and went outside with her to count the stars. We reminisced about our travels, trials and tribulations. We laughed those big belly laughs about all the trouble we've gotten into and all the trouble we've caused. She poked fun at Order and Discipline, and as usual, I defended them. I told her without them we simply could not survive and requested her to find some way to get along with them. She said, "Perhaps I could learn to get along with them if they stopped hanging out with Practically all the time, as we have not one thing in common."
I don't argue with Restlessness. I just let her be. I have discovered that arguing with her or trying to squelch her enthusiasm only makes her more determined. Besides, I like her fire, and the company she keeps. Passion is quite a charming fellow. Inquisitive by nature, she goes through my journals and my photographs. She reads my emails, interprets my doodlings and shreds my to-do-lists. I keep finding notes, quotes and images about exotic places and mystical peoples falling out of a book, flashing on the computer screen or imprinted on the inside of my eyelids. It seems Restlessness and I have some unfinished business to attend.
At the end of another busy week, she reminds me how I despise busy-ness. A true temptress, she is... I heard her knocking at the door a long time before I opened it, knowing the swirling currents of change that travel with her. But old friends are old friends... The door is always open. She arrives dressed in leather in lace. In one hand she holds a tube of pink hair dye with a sexy pair ankle strap wedges dangling from two fingers and in the other gripping my favorite bottle of red wine. With an impish grin, she asks, "Wanna take a walk on the wild side or are you too busy tonight." I ask her, "Are you not happy?" She replies, "I am quite happy. I am not concerned about my happiness, but yours. You will not be happy if I get lost in your to-do-list. You will not be happy without me. I am you." In that moment I remembered how much I loved her, put a streak of pink in my hair, laced up those ankle straps and uncorked the wine!
What we resist persists. What we embrace, embraces us. Integration is the key to becoming whole. To be whole, we must love our self. To love our self, we must understand our self. To understand our self, we must simply not hide from our our self. Wherever you are, whoever you are, just be yourself... and be the soul of that place.
Do you want to be right or be happy? The inability to forgive ourselves and others is what keeps us in a state of duality rather than Oneness. When we fail to forgive it is because our ego is in conflict with our Spirit. Our ego wants to judge and blame. Our Spirit sees only purity and innocence. Arguing with our Self is a loosing battle. The parts of ourselves that are unkind and unforgiving are not our faults. They are our wounds. Ego does not need to win. Ego needs to heal.
For our wounds to heal, we must accept the ugly parts of ourselves. When realize we are just as much capable of inflicting wounds as we are feeling the wounds inflicted upon us, an opening in our consciousness enables us to see cords of connection to each other rather than walls of separation; And compassion blooms. It is this conscious part of us, that can forgive. We may never forget where we buried the hatchet, but we can rewrite the story.
It is the stories we hold onto that create the grooves in our psyche the define our wholesomeness or our fragmentation. Spirit does not see a victim or a villain. Spirit only knows love. Ego only knows fear. If our mind is oriented in the ego's needs, wants and desires, we continue to fuel fear. When the mind becomes oriented in Spirit, we serve love. We cannot serve to masters.
We can read all the books, take all the workshops, philosophize with all greatest minds but until we gain some self-mastery over our mind and mind becomes aligned with Spirit, we are merely swimming in a lost sea of suffering. Let go of the idea that you can fix your ego. You can't be fixed. Accept the holy mess that you and everyone else is, and just move on.
Forgiveness is "selective remembering." Be conscious how you write your stories. Do you want to remember the love or the pain? It truly is your choice. Do you want live in fear and build walls to keep you isolated from existence, or do you want to live in love merging in an ocean of divine bliss? When forgiveness knocks at your door, ask yourself, "Do I want to be right or be happy? If happiness is what you truly want, then ego will have to accept being wrong. If ego can't accept being wrong, you are not even ready to bury the hatchet. Don't kid yourself. Mind must be in right alignment first. When our thoughts and actions are directed toward God, mind aligns. Serve, Love, Meditate, Realize... Forgive.
She Could Not Be Reached
"I go where no man has trod before,
Where no system can follow,
A place where passion awaits those,
Who go beyond the barriers of
Superficial man-made dreams."
It has been awhile since I have been focused and still enough to write. I have been teetering on an edge for quite some time, and last week it seems I leaped. This morning I sit alone with my stillness reflecting on the last few weeks. The reality of my choices is making it's debut appearance. It is interesting how many distractions I can find when fear is knocking on my door.
Void of distractions this morning, I am in a contemplative mood carefully checking for damage from the free fall. A few bumps and bruises but thus far, I find no permanent injury. I am realizing that I have been more anxious than I had allowed myself to think about, and it is funny how little I think while leaping. The butterflies in my stomach are settling down and a calmness is soothing my system, as some clarity is dawning through this stillness.
Why do we do what we do? This is such penetrating question. Another one is, "Why don't we explore more often why we do what we do?" Until we step back and observe our monkey mind, we can never know. We will continue to be subject to our own whims and fancies, our distractions and most of all our deeply embedded behavior patterns. The endless cycle of unconsciously living our life perpetuates more of the same thing, over and over again.
We continually busy ourselves with so many things that it is nearly impossible to actually be with our self long enough to give any sincere, conscious direction to our lives. We just blindly follow one behavior pattern after the other without questioning what it is we are doing. We are driven by what we desire. Difficulty is most of us are not clear enough to know what it is we truly desire. We all want to be happy, but we often fail miserably at realizing what makes us happy. We spin our wheels fulfilling our fleeting desires, because we are too afraid to be unhappy for even a moment. Reality is we can never maintain constant happiness, nor can we hold onto unhappiness forever. All emotions are as fleeting as our desires.
Change is scary, and growth can be uncomfortable; but if you keep reaching outside your comfort zone, one day you will reach it. There is such beauty and wonder in new beginnings, but new beginnings often require a leap. Pay attention to the free fall, that's where you learn what you are made of; and when stripped of our facades, we are all made of the same stuff. If you can find yourself in your center in the center of uncertainty, then you have found yourself. Until then you are simply entertaining your monkey mind.
This is great article and well written,
Why I left Yoga by Irasna Rising. It does make you think about
the eastern view of western Yoga. I agree with a lot of what the author
says, but I also see the other side to this as well. I am a western
yogini, no matter what Indian thinks I am just a "wannabe." I started
practicing Yoga almost 30 years ago, when it wasn't cool. It was just
considered weird. And I didn't start on a Yoga mat. I started on a
meditation cushion. Hatha Yoga came afterwards.
I moved to an
ashram when I didn't even know what an ashram was. I just wanted to be
around people who didn't think I was so weird. I received my Yoga
teacher's "certificate" 24 years ago through a residential "training." I
was given a spiritual name at the end of that training. I took on the
name (changed it legally) as an outward expression of renouncing my old
lifestyle and beginning a yogic life. My name reminds me of my vow, my
vow between me and God... not between me and the world. There are many
American yoginis and yogis like me that Yoga has taken it's hold of and
has not let go. We may or may not be recognized, and it's not important.
It's not an outward journey. It's an inward journey.
I have
spent a lot of time in India. I love India. I had always wanted to go.
The first time I saw a picture of Ganesha I fell in love with his image.
I don't know why I am pulled to what I am pulled to. I just know that I
am, and I follow my heart. I often get the feeling from some Indians,
that they think westerners who come to India are lost and that we came
to be guided. In fact, they believe we will just empty our pockets at
the feet of anyone who tells us that they can guide us. Truth is, we are
not any less spiritually ignorant or more spiritually enlightened than
Indians. I see just as many Indians emptying their pockets at that feet
of charlatans.
When you travel to another country to experience
another culture, the traveler gets more from the experience if they
just try and go along with that culture's traditions instead of
resisting them. Often what seems as us pretending to be Indian is merely
our attempts at being polite. You encourage us see your temples, eat
your food, wear your bindi's, don your saris and touch your gurus feet,
but when we do, you laugh at us behind our backs? How yogic like. I
don't believe the majority of Indians feel this way, but some do.
Generalizations are often too harsh. Some people are just gullible, some
aren't. That's true in every culture. People are just people. It takes
all kinds everywhere.
India doesn't own Yoga. It is true that
the West seems to be bastardizing Yoga, but I see the same thing
happening in India. It's seems just about every corner in Rishikesh has a
Yoga teacher's training. India is on the Yoga trend capitalizing just
as much as America. Instead of pitting East against West on who is
teaching Yoga the better way, why don't we just practice from the roots
of Yoga's teachings?... Ahimsa, Asteya, Brachmacharya, Aparigraha,
Satya. Oops, there I do that too... use Sanskrit words. I was taught,
and I agree, that the Sanksrit language has a sacredness to it. It is
not a language for mundane communication but one to communicate
spiritual concepts. When I say, non-violence, non-stealing, chastity,
non-attachment and truthfulness, it just doesn't have the same feel.
However, more people understand what I am saying. I use both, so that
the Sanskrit meaning doesn't get watered down. That is part of how I
honor the tradition.
Yoga doesn't need our policing. Yoga will
blossom wherever a seed is planted and in any soil. That flower may look
different depending on the soil, water and air it is given, but
somewhere, even in a puffed up, ego maniac like Bikram Choudry there's a
seed. It may be a few lifetimes for that seed to blossom, but it's
there underneath the layers of mud.
A lot of the West may be
practicing for the "wrong" reasons. My students come to class for many
different reasons and for some, yes, it's for a "Yoga butt." I don't
care why they come. I just teach in the honor of the tradition in which
it was shared with me. That's is the intention I set before every class.
It is not up to me how Yoga organically unfolds in their lives. I just
know it will. In 2 days, 2 months, 2 years or 2 lifetimes, eventually
that seed will flower.
Om Shanti, everybody. Peace, everybody. Yoga means union. Let's not be divided by it.
There
is nowhere to go and nothing to hang onto. It seems ego either wants to
cling or flee. But... "Wherever you go, there you are." It is the
courageous soul that let's go of that last branch and gives into the
flow of the raging river. It takes fearlessness to stay awake in the
face of death and impermanence. It is in the midst of chaos, uncertainty
and unpredictability that we learn how to embrace
life. It is when we embrace life, not when we cling to it or resist it,
that we actually begin to live it. It is in groundlessness that we find
our ground. When we are willing to risk it all for freedom, we find it.
Freedom is not an experience. It is a state of being. There is nowhere
to go and nothing to do. It has all already been done. We only awaken to
the awareness of our "Beingness."
You know that beautiful moment when you remember life is as juicy as it ever was? How is that just the sight of a twisted juniper tree can conjure a memory complete with full sensory amplification and transport me to a time long ago? I had a magical walk as the sun was sinking in the sky tonight.
I was feeling exhausted, with an achy back and a head full of pollen, when I returned home from work this evening. I plopped myself down in the chair where I had fully intended to spend the rest of my evening. The warm, spring breeze was softly blowing through the open window and the sunlight glistened creating rainbows as it reflected through the crystal hanging above. My breath became slower and deeper as my mind shifted gears and my body settled into relaxation mode. This is what I had been waiting for all day, the time in space where there was nothing to be done, no one that wanted anything from me, nor me anything from them. Well, almost no one.
There she sat on the couch across from me staring at me with those gentle amber eyes and ears all perky at attention. I swear sometimes my dog, Izzy, looks like she's smiling. She was happy I was home but even more so, she was anticipating her evening walk. Didn't she know how tired and sore I was, how hard I had been working, how much I just wanted to sit and do nothing? No, she didn't, but I knew she would forgive me and forget about it in a little while anyway. As I sat relaxing with a cup of tea, Izzy also relaxed. She sunk into the couch with a surrendering sigh. Her gaze went out into space, her perky ears dropped and her smile slipped away as she accepted her fate in the moment. Picking up on my vibration, she had shifted gears. As I watched my low energy vibration be reflected back to me from her, I thought to myself, "Sometimes I wish I could just be as happy and forgiving as Izzy. Instead of her lowering to my vibration, perhaps I should rise to hers."
Shantji's voice rang in my ears, "You can do anything for 10 minutes." I decided I could go on a short walk. I told Izzy we weren't going to the woods because then I would have to put on shoes, and flip flops were all the effort I could muster up. The only thing she understood was that we were going, and that's all that mattered to her. Bridling her excitement as best she could, Izzy picked up on my lethargy and walked slow and easy, not her usual style. As we wandered up the street, I began to notice the bright, happy colors of the spring flowers blossoming and the golden light shining through the trees, and I felt my load lightening. My eyes fell upon two juniper trees guarding the opening of a driveway. Funny I never noticed them before, as I walk that street almost daily. Their branches were twisted in the most unusual of ways, and their needles spread out in the shape of huge fans. I stopped and stared as memories flooded my awareness.
Even the smell of the juniper berries I used to decorate my mud pies came to me, just as sharp as it ever was. In the empty lot next to my grandparents house, I had my own magical kingdom. Probably not more than a 1/4 acre but to me as a kid, it was a vast forest, of which I was the queen. It was the huge juniper tree that was my kitchen where my grandparents proclaimed the best mud pies in St. Augustine came from . My grandmother would save her old pie tins for me. I would pack them with sandy, Florida soil that I would ever so diligently stir to perfection with sulfur water. My specialty was Juniper Berry Mud Pie, and I would serve them up on a palm fawn. Siding them out from underneath the huge fan of juniper needles that opened the carry out window of my restaurant, I would yell out to my grandparents, "Come and get 'em while their fresh, Mimi and Dada, before the Wooliemajiggers eat them all." And they would always come, and ooh and awe over how delicious my pies were, never questioning me what a Wooliemajigger was.
The sweet memory of my grandparents and my magical kingdom made me want to visit the woods. Although my back was still hurting and I was wearing flip flops, somehow it didn't matter anymore. I was reminded how juicy the woods are. Somewhere in the doldrums of the day, I had forgotten. With a little more spring in my step, I headed to the woods. Approaching the woods, I notice a few Daffodils had sprung up looking like they were lining an entry way into the woods. I think this happened naturally. It's no one's property and it's not cared for in anyway. It's just the side of the road. I could smell them as soon as I could see them. I reached to pick one and took a big whiff of it's sweet smell. Then I remembered this was the exact same place where just 3 months ago I found Narcissus growing. They seemed to be growing in the same odd place.
The Narcissus has a most profound memory for me. I don't think I had ever smelled them before I went to Iowa to live at a huge ashram many years ago. There were things about that place I liked, but mostly I never felt at home there. There weren't many comforts and the winter was brutal. Strangely enough, one of my fondest memories of the ashram was at Christmas time. Huge pots of Narcissus were everywhere inside doorways, and decorating the sitting areas and meditation halls. Something about their intoxicating scent made me forget it was 40 below outside, and I was homesick. It's like they have some wonderful, magical power over me.
I headed into the woods with my happy dog and my intoxicating Daffodil in hand, along with my aching back and pollen filled head. No, it didn't go away, but it didn't matter anymore. It seems I can either focus on what needs to be fixed or coddled or changed or I can just skip off into the forest and get intoxicated by Nature, but I can't seem to do both at the same time. Life can be as juicy as we want it to be, but we must develop the art of tasting, smelling, seeing and touching the beauty around us. Preoccupation with anything other than what is right now, sucks the juice out of the moment. All experiences, memories and thoughts are fleeting. Savor what brings you pleasure but don't try to hold onto it. Endure what you can't enjoy, but don't get sucked into it. Nothing lasts forever. Find a magical kingdom, filled with intoxicating flowers. Go there often and make juniper berry mud pies. Nothing is as important as you think it is. Viva la Juicy!
After a restless night of sleep because of some mellow-drama I allowed myself to get involved in, I was feeling hurt, misunderstood and sad. Thank God for the order of discipline that somehow seems to stick with me, for without it I might have wallowed around in self pity all day. I got up and began my morning ritual of lighting a candle for God, chanting, pranayama and meditation while tears came and went. I was mostly upset with myself for going "down in the mud" with someone yesterday, as I have made a strong intention to just move on from people and situations that are not harmonious instead of staying and fighting, which tends to be my default behavior. There are no winners in the blame game, regardless if you are blaming yourself or others.
Blaming is a way we try to protect our heart, that soft, vulnerable, tender part of our self. Regardless of how tough we are, within everyone is that soft spot. All growth comes from that soft spot; however, it is so sensitive that often we feel uncomfortable, and sometimes even pain, when it is touched. So we try and hide it to protect it. When we stop blaming ourselves and others long enough, a space opens to feel our heart, and we discover the wounds that lie underneath the protective shell that blaming builds. As long as we need to feel right or wrong, we continue to build layers of that protective shell.
I quit drinking my beloved coffee 2 weeks ago, as I have been cleansing. This morning, feeling the need to feel better, I made myself a huge cup. Sitting in my chair hugging my huge cup of coffee, looking out the window at the beautiful sunshine and listening to the birds singing, I attempted to pull myself together by planning what I need to do today. As my mind began it's course of distraction into doing mode versus the feeling mode I was stuck in, Grace seemed to take over. I write all the time. I find my journals all over my house. Yesterday I found one stuck in an odd place, and I moved it over to a collection of books I keep by my meditation spot. I reached down in my stack of books to find something inspiring to read, and my hand landed on that journal. Out of it, fell a chart of the energetic system of the body. I had been wanting to find a good chart on Sen Lines for my upcoming Thai Massage workshop. This was exactly what I needed. I don't know why it was in this journal or even remember where it came from. This sparked my curiosity about the journal.
I opened the journal to the first page dated November 2012, and the first line in it was this quote:
"There are no justified resentments."
I don't know where this quote is from or if the preceding writing is mine or something I read, but it was exactly what needed hear.
"If I am responsible, even in some small way, for the negativity I am experiencing then I can go to work to change it. If someone or something else is responsible, then I will have to wait for them to change it before I will feel better. If I can take some responsibility for my pain, then I can take some responsibility for removing it. Blaming leaves me powerless. Resentment will destroy me. Why would I allow something that belongs to someone else to be a source of resentment, a source of self-destruction? When I feel offended, I am practicing judgement. When judging someone else to be stupid, insensitive, rude, arrogant, inconsiderate or foolish, I am offended by their conduct. When I judge another person, I do not define them, I define myself as someone who needs to judge others."
Wherever this came from, I am feeling grateful for the wisdom. Thank you, God.
