Arc, Split and Shine Like a Rainbow!

I've been wanting to write something about this past year, something that summarizes or encapsulates as succinctly as possible my personal journey through the year, but the words elude me. So I was thinking of a creative writing workshop I took with Jeff Davis, Journey from the Center to the Page, meaning the journey from deep within our center to words expressed on a page. There were several sessions spread out over several days, including the Yoga of Writing with Wonder. We did asanas, we meditated sitting, laying down, and walking. We stared at rocks, and other objects of nature, and pondered them. We wrote down five words that we felt were underused in our culture. Then from the five words, we were to chose one, marking out the other four. That one remaining word was to be the topic of our creative writing project, right then and there, spontaneously. I came up with the word rainbow because it conjures up so many images and thoughts and concepts for me as well as colors and experiences going back to early childhood. Before putting pen to paper, we were encouraged to walk outdoors, look around at the world from a different perspective, notice things we might not normally notice. Heightened senses, awareness. After wandering up and down the alley I returned and began to write of my experience interwoven with all the possible associations I could come up related to the word "rainbow":

"My pen ran out of ink, emptying it's last drop of blackness onto the page. The gray sky is dull and damp and evokes the need for shelter. The studio envelopes me. The rain fell and left Mother Earth wet with puddles, drips, and droplets. Falling, arcing over roofs, darkening the bark of trees, splattering, spilling downward and held in the bowels of earth. A dankness, the roar of clashing clouds, colliding and throwing down bolts of lightening, striking, hitting, tumultuous. As the storm subsides, the majesty of sun again shines forth his smile kissing Mother Earth and sending radiant rays upon all,. The magic begins in the near distance, beyond touch, just there, an arc of brilliant color, ground to ground, bowed up in the middle, a half sun, a semi-circle dancing with color, the prism of light broken into curving lines that are alive, transitory, a sight to behold. Never ending dreams brought always by the light, the element of water, color, the stuff of dreams, dreams that can be elusive, beyond grasp, always over there, beyond approach, but right there in front of you to behold. The bow of a ship afloat the waters of life, rivulets, bend your dreams into the rainbow of life, prostrate yourself before this miracle of nature, this perfection that is found only in the now, gone in the blink of an eye. The semi-circle of life, the richness that seems to be over there, just beyond reach, is really here, right now, the arc of rich color, of mystery, glimpsed in moments that quickly pass but with power to transform, just as light transforms the element of water vapor. Bend down, fall over, bow to the blessed, brilliant rainbow. The end of the rainbow is yet another beginning, a place anew, to find refuge and shelter. You are home, here, in this light of life, the stuff of dreams, this color of being. Dream your dreams and always follow your rainbows.

So for the new year I want to continue following my rainbow dreams, seeing past the illusions and false stories, seeking and finding the magic and the color, feeling the pain and sorrow, realizing and accepting impermanence, crying and laughing, loving and not pushing away the darkness when it comes, reaching skyward with an open heart towards that which at times seems so unattainable. I want to be a seeker, and know that whether I find something brilliant or nothing at all, what's really important is the journey itself.

May our hopes and dreams take us onward into the New Year, marching as spiritual warriors, steadfast and resolute in our hearts' quest for Truths.

(Photo downloaded from the internet)

Without the Fanfare

I took my first class ever this past Thursday night with Christina Sell. The class really rocked, and I'm told there's a guy out there named Jesse who actually sweats more than I do! The class had such a positive and welcoming aspect to it, due to the wonderful people in attendance, something I love about doing yoga--you get to surround yourself with people who are open to life, and exude love and friendliness. It was a unique evening in several ways that really have no apparent connection other than they happened within a short space of time. I ran into a guy I hadn't seen in a long time, and he's in a place of fear and anger that took me by surprise, and I found myself having to establish a clear boundary with him, stepping up my assertiveness, and then walking away after realizing he would not honor my refusal to engage in scurrilous gossip with him. I saw another guy I hadn't seen in a longer while and got a nice hello and a warm hug from him, which was really sweet. Then during class the IT band of my left leg, behind the knee, apparently crossed over, or got crossed over, with the tendon and when it crossed back into position it made a loud popping sound that not only startled the hell out of me, it got the teacher's attention and I think most people in the room heard it. I now know that it's not that uncommon an occurence and I felt no pain, just a tiny bit of soreness yesterday, and during subsequent practices I found myself unable to do Garudasana and Padmasana with that leg, but I think in a couple of days or so all will be back to normal. Still, I wonder what caused that to happen?

Practice on Saturday with Cary was really special, and in recognition of the Winter Solstice he led us through a wonderful opening meditation, an intense vinyasa flow, then a closing meditation before Savasana. A trio of us did some giggling in class when our windshield wiper legs collided but it was fun and harmless. The essence of Savasana, stillness and silence, is not meant to bring an end to our playful endeavors, but to pay homage to the work our bodies have done and to touch in with inner waters of stillness, try to slow the ripples of the mind, and prepare ourselves for the many deaths and births we will experience, both literally and metaphorically. To die, but not to sleep.

Earlier this month my partner and I quietly and without fanfare, as is our style, celebrated our 34 years together as a couple. We had hoped that by this time in our relationship the political, social, and legal systems would recognize our partnership and grant us the same rights as those of opposite sex relationships but that didn't happen. It would be nice, but as Joni Mitchell sings, we don't need no piece of paper from the city hall, keeping us tight and true...

I always love practicing with Keith at Dharma, and did my second class observation with him on Sunday, then joined in the vinyasa flow class afterwards. In my opinion, he ranks among the very best teachers in Austin. A woman named Cherry I was talking with after class suddenly said "it's a great time to be alive". That really struck a note with me.

Peaceful Holidays

What's in a Name?

I was reading a book for class that talked about the importance of play. Play being that sense of interaction we have with ourselves and others and the world around us whereby we just don't take things so damn seriously. When we play with a sense of awe, of wonderment, of openness, of genuine compassion and caring for what's happening and remain open to what comes, we make living and learning a more authentic and joyful experience. Don't we all need this? That's not to say we play carelessly or without regard for consequences--quite the contrary. The word that describes this in Sanskrit is lila. Although I may have read this definition before, my memory is quite sketchy at times but I knew that was the name of an Anusara inspired yoga teacher's blog that I find quite interesting and sometimes just awesome to read. So I went there and was really more than just a little moved that he (Jeremiah) had made reference to me in a recent posting, and called me his friend, and I wasn't sure he had a clue who I was (actually I thought he probably disliked me). Sometimes the smallest things we do that are of a kind and compassionate nature can have consequences of a positive nature that we may never know about. Sometimes a stranger will give me a smile that just reaches deep down inside and gently massages my heart in a way that feels so incredibly healing, sometimes in a profound way. And sometimes it's exactly what I really needed in that moment. But I must admit, I have to be open and vulnerable myself and awake to what's going on. (Of course sometimes I can get negative vibes from people that tell me they are deeply troubled by fear and suffering, and I just try to breathe in a little bit of their sadness and breathe out positive energy; who knows, it may do nothing for them but it makes me feel good.

And I think of all the times I've been in that place of fear.)

My friend Brian has talked a great deal about his close and his long time friend, an elderly woman in her mid to late eighties. I've never met her but I've heard so much about her over the years. My friend Hank, Brian's partner, is a very gifted artist and writer. His drawings are just phenomenal, and all the more so as he's visually impaired and yet his ability to see and express intense detail is just beyond understanding. His recent painting is of their good friend, Lylah. Check out his website.

http://www.henrycatenacci.com/

The Playful, Luminous Dance of Life

I often experience the unique pull and push of paradox in life. The other morning, on the way to class, I was driving on a quiet country road, no other cars about, very few houses, 25 mph speed limit, and a couple of beautiful does (yes, female deer) crossed in front of my car. I stopped and watched them. The first one came to a fence and stopped completely in her tracks, calmly gazed about briefly then pushed herself seemingly without effort straight up into the air, tucked in her legs, and hung suspended in that split moment between going up and coming down, then glided downward to the ground on the other side of the fence. The perfect balance between sthira and sukha. The second doe following behind her also walked up to the fence, came to a complete standstill, then gracefully glided straight up into the air, hung suspended with her legs tucked in, as though some invisible string were attached to her center pulling her upwards toward the skies, and glided slightly forward just enough to clear the fence to land on the other side. I was so inspired I talked about the event in class, read a Hafiz poem about listening to the inner voice that shouts Yes! Yes! Yes! to every luminous movement in Existence. As I continued my drive to class, a few moments later I saw a flock of buzzards eating at the carcass of a deer alongside the road. It's paradoxical to one moment see the luminous life dance and grace of movement in a deer jumping effortlessly over a fence, and in the next moment see another deer that's collided with a vehicle and been sent, perhaps with excrutiating pain and suffering, into the bloody dance of death.

That morning the sun was shining bright and I made an unusual discovery before leaving the house. I was printing out some information on the chakras and my eye was drawn to the orange color of the Svadisthana chakra, right below the navel, the lower abdomen. Lesson: the right to our feelings; a connection to our sensing abilities and issues relating to feelings; our ability to be social and intimate. Imbalance: Eating disorders. Alcohol/drug abuse. Depression. Low back pain. and so on. I opened my book "Sadhus--India's Mystic Holy Men" to page 88 where there's a photo of a holy man dressed in bright orange holding his pastoral staff (danda), or rod of divination, a symbol of spiritual power, carried by brahman ascetics. I looked up on my wall, and again, there he was was in a photograph I took 17 years ago while traveling in Nepal and India (1991). I looked at the publication date of the book: 1993.

It's not really all that unusual that I would photograph an ascetic who would get photographed again by someone else a couple of years later and get published in a book. What is kind of strange to me is that I enlarged that photo and it's been hanging on my walls for 17 years and I've looked at the Sadhus book countless times, and never noticed the ascetic on my wall was one and the same as the ascetic in the book.

More paradoxical than all of the above are the false realities we create, then buy into them, then discover it was all an illusion, a story we made up. Maya. It can all change in a second. We reawaken again and again only to learn we were asleep. We learn to play with life, with ourselves, with others in a way that is liberating, that is alive and zesty and juicy and also compassionate and caring, where things are open to surprise, and that all that happens has consequences. To be genuinely playful is "revolutionary." If we revere and recognize the world as the play of the Goddess Shakti principle, we can join in and imitate this play in everything we do. In Sanskrit, it's called lila.

(See also The Yoga of Breath, a Step-by-Step Guide to Pranayama by Richard Rosen).

Surface dirt; Yoga school

In a dream last night I noticed a few strangers had gathered on the lawn by the garage. Soon they came knocking at the door and wanted to know what ancient relics might be found below the surface of that particular area. I recalled that once there was an unusal sandy area, white sand with pools of deep blue water. But it had all been covered over by layers of soil planted with grass, and pipes that fed the sprinkler system. I walked out to explore and noticed the area was covered with fire ant mounds and as I attempted to explore, to do some amateur excavating, the ants soon covered my legs, but I washed them off with water and continued looking around. A few steps later I discovered the beautiful white sands and deep pools of fresh water, in an adjacent area, and a neighbor appeared to explain that it had been there all along. Upon further exploration I saw that the spring-fed pools of water in the white sand flowed down into a deep channel the water had carved into the hard stone that wound its way around a small island, then eventually emptied into the vastness of sea. People appeared and told me the route via canoe was a wonderful experience, potentially treacherous, but with care could easily be navigated and the journey was a great one. Soon large white stone carved benches appeared with beautiful views of the landscape below and people gathered to commune and share.

As in life, when we open our eyes there are dimensions of reality right before us that have been there all along. Sometimes the process of excavating through the surface dirt to see what lies below begins with first facing obstacles and "stings" that can, with effort, be overcome with a gentle steadfastness that will wash away those bites and begin to reveal new realities, new treasures, new journeys, and a vastness with no end. For me, a momentary glimpse into the infinite simply tells me "hey, I'm here, come explore", but more importantly stay the course of your journey, focus on what's right there in front of you less you lose sight of it.

As G says, so many new seeds of knowledge have been planted, be okay with feeling overwhelmed, and know that newly planted seeds must germinate. Delving into Patanjali's sutras, the study of pranayama, learning Sanskrit names of asanas, attending lectures and staying attentive and focused and taking notes, leading the class through Surya Namaskar Sequence A and B for the first time ever, watching videos that in the course of an hour summarize the history of yoga, continuing to maintain one's personal practice, attendng classes as participant, as observer, well, it can be a bit overwhelming. Dealing with the dynamics of a class setting, interacting with a group of new people, assisting, adjusting, sharing, learning together, all very challening, but definitely part of the journey. When I open my notebook it tells me to breathe and stay in the moment. It helps to regularly give myself permission to stumble.

In the above photos I'm 1. doing headstand on the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea, covered in Dead Sea mud which is meant to pull toxins out of the body. It felt good, especially being applied. 2) Floating in the Dead Sea. Because of the high salt content, the body just naturally floats at and slightly above the surface of the water. If you attempt to dog paddle or swim or do most of the things we are used to doing in *regular* water, it becomes a struggle because the Dead Sea naturally forces you to the surface. I'm told that people will get caught up in the struggle, face down in the water, and drown. It's a matter of complete surrender to the water.

Full Circle

I think it's so important that we frequently stop and check in with ourselves, touch base with ourselves, assess what's going on--emotionally, physically, spiritually. Use every tool we have, find new tools, dig deep, seek healing through truth, reach out, let our voices peal the air like cathedral or temple bells.

When I was six years old I returned home from school one day with my first piece of artwork. It was my rendition of a dog. I'd had no training or practice so it was uniquely primitive and today would be labeled as outsider art. My mother laughed at it and told me I had no artistic talent at all. She kept my drawing on top of the refrigerator and showed it to everyone that entered the house--friends, neighbors, relatives--always calling it the ugliest drawing she had ever seen. Over and over I heard that I had no artistic talent whatsoever. It hurt in ways a 6 year old can't really fathom except to never again bring home another drawing, better yet, never attempt to make another drawing. And so it permeates and sticks. I have no talent, why bother with trying? After all, my mother told me this, and I love her, and she must be right. I never took art in college, not even art appreciation. In my twenties I began traveling and visiting museums and so began my deep love and appreciation of art. Something other people do. I didn't know how deeply wounded I was over that incident.

When I began my most serious recovery work at the age of 39, magical and mystical things began to happen as I opened myself to new worlds, dug deep inside with the help of some incredible therapists and started on the path known as the one less traveled.

Serendipitously one cold but sunny winter day I met an artist, a painter, in a support group, who became one of my best friends. Through our deep friendship, I learned that there was an artist inside me longing to come out and express himself. I nurtured him, and learned all about oil paints, brushes, canvases, colors, etc. from my new friend. We got together and painted, we visited galleries, we bought supplies at art stores, and we painted some more. I struggled through it all and found a new voice of expression. He praised my work and over the next few years I produced approximately 200 paintings. I loved it. I took drawing lessons, and further art lessons. I had come home to that part of myself that had been imprisoned. It was liberating, I could make nice paintings and express myself in ways beyond my imagination.

Last week, I presented my first, simple, uncomplicated yoga vinyasa sequence in class. I struggled to put together a sequence that wasn't just a facsimile of one found in a book, or one that I had experienced in class. I wanted to focus on the standing poses. It wasn't easy, I felt pretty helpless, but in truth I learned so much during the process of putting this together. After all, it was supposed a very simple 3 to 5 pose sequence leading up to a final pose. Other than myself and my beloved teacher, only one other student was able to attend class that particular day. I called out my sequence, asana by asana, and the teacher wrote each pose on the board, one by one, and we talked about how that pose leads into the next pose, how it opens certain parts of the body, warms certain muscles, is a preparation for the next pose, etc. And we talked about parts of the sequence that weren't all that smooth. After all, I'm learning and I've never done this before. The other student seemed to find something very funny in all this as she broke out in laughter repeatedly during this process. How did you come up with that? How do you get from that pose to that pose. Giggle, giggle. Laugh, laugh. I won't say more, except that I must have just blocked it out, or decided that she wasn't really intentionally deriding me. Was she really laughing at my sequence? Yes she was, but I don't think she meant to intentionally hurt my feelings, but that happened and I refused to feel anything. I went numb and dismissed it as unimportant. Such things come back.

That weekend something felt wrong inside me. My sleep was restless, my dreams particularly disturbing. I felt fragile and vulnerable. On Monday as I drove to class, my heart screamed out in pain and I let lose a river a tears. It was then I realized that the deep wound inflicted unintentionally by my mother when I was 6 years old had suddenly opened up and I was bleeding, I was hurting, I was scared. This is all very therapeutic, fully feeling what you feel. I sat with the feeling, let the tears flow, and held back nothing. Not the best condition to drive in but automatic pilot can be a huge help. I processed.

That night I had a rare, near ecstatic dream. There was a dog, a big one, and a beautiful one, and a powerful one. In the dream when I thought of him, he would appear instantly, no matter how far away he might be from me, or how far away I might be from him. He was like an angel, a best friend, an animal spirit empowered with beautiful, magical, super-human qualities. In the back of a moving pickup I suddenly felt I needed him, so I thought of him and suddenly there he was, running behind the pick up, then magically flew up into the cab and took control of everything--he steered me in the direction I needed to go. It was like a miracle happening. This friend of mine, this beautiful dog, was always there for me in this dream. A dog. Like a god. Like my drawing that I still have in the top of my closet. I just read:

...to see a dog in your dream symbolizes intuition, loyalty, generosity, protection, and fidelity. The dream suggests that your strong values and good intentions will enable you to go forward in the world and bring you success. It can also indicate a skill that you have ignored or forgotten..flying signifies a sense of freedom where you had initially felt restricted and limited...

Loreena McKennitt sings:

Stars were falling deep in the darkness

as prayers rose softly, petals at dawn

And as I listened, your voice seemed so clear

so calmly you were calling your god.

Somewhere the sun rose, o'er dunes in the desert

such was the stillness, I ne'er felt before

Was this the question, pulling, pulling, pulling you

in your heart, in your soul, did you find rest there?

Elsewhere a snowfall, the first in the winter

covered the ground as the bells filled the air

You in your robes sang, calling, calling, calling him

in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there?

Music and lyrics by Loreena McKennitt: Full Circle

from The Mask and the Mirror

And so as we traverse through life, we come full circle, again and again. And when in distress, we call out for help, when we reach deep into ourselves and remain open, answers, peace, and rest may come to us.

N.B. I was just remembering when I was staying with an Indian woman in her small home in Rancho de Taos, NM, and on the morning of Palm Sunday I woke up, looked outside, and it was snowing heavily. A late May snow, the last of the season, and it was heavy. I walked to Church and entered, received a palm frond, but felt suffocated and the need to be outside overcame me so I walked the neighborhood for a long while. The whole time I walked I was accompanied by a dog that seemed to come from out of nowhere, waited for me while I went into the church, and continued walking at my side throughout my walk.

Feeling yucky, great documentary, favorite shots

I'm not feeling well today, so I've given myself permission to stay home all weekend if need be and stay in bed if I feel that's in my best interest, which is where I am right now, surrounded by Ralph and Pepe and some reading assignments. I caught a cold while traveling and although I experienced all the usual symptoms, I kept going and didn't slow down one bit as I didn't feel tired. Now I feel very run down. Somehow it's caught up with me and doesn't want to let go without my attention, so I'm listening. The cold has moved into my chest and I had chills last night and again this morning. I hear a deep gurgling when I cough. I know how fortunate I am to be able to rest, and to rest comfortably. It's a luxury not afforded to many people in this world. In all likelihood, this cold will run its course after briefly slowing me down and I'll resume the life and activity that comes with good health. I give thanks. But honestly, I'm a real baby when it comes to physical pain and discomfort, and if I experience a fever I have thoughts that I just might not make it! Really.

We watched an excellent documentary last night titled The Body of War. After 5 days serving in Iraq, a young US soldier is wounded and permanently disabled, and this movie tells his story. It's sad, frustrating, and paints, in my opinion, an accurate and unbiased picture of how war tears apart families, nations, and can do damage to the human body beyond comprehension. Medical care for these Iraqi veterans is poor and it seems they pretty much live out their remaining years in the shadows, often unable to perform basic bodily functions. The majority of our leaders turn a blind eye, disillusionment seems to be the norm with the current powers that be. I recommend this highly. P.O.V. on PBS.

I so want to have the energy to go get on the mat, or go to a yoga class. I really wanted to take a workshop today at Castle Hill Yoga, about cultivating a home practice. I'm sorry to have missed it, but for everything there is a reason, regardless of whether we have a clue or not, and so I'm parked here letting nature run her course.

I decided to select a few of my favorite photos from the trip and post them. I like to look at things up close and deeply personal. I'm drawn to photography that represents the natural world in an almost abstract vision. Hence, a open pomegranate in a food market stall draws my awe more than the engineering feat of a Roman amphitheatre. That's just me. A Reuben Rubins painting, a flower, a paper fan twirling in a garden, some thorns, palm leaves, red rocks in a garden landscape, the sun shining through the slats of a shed atop Masada, a painting outside an art gallery in the artsy district of Tel Aviv, a pot with a circle within a circle, a view of the Wadi Qilt near St. George's monastery near Jericho, earthy ochres, burnt siennas, raw umbers and deep yellows of sandstone at Petra, and so on.

Traveling

It's Monday morning and I've less than 2 hours before leaving for the first class of my four month intensive teacher training program with Gioconda. Just before leaving for Jordan and Israel in mid October, I learned that she would be offering this training (beginning Nov 10th, today) so I enrolled, then had the following 3 weeks to think about it. This will be my 3rd time to enroll so maybe three's the charm.

Just as I knew it would be, the Jordan/Israel trip was a bit on the strenuous side, the rhythm of movement pretty intense, but I soon got into the swing of things and had a really great time. We walked many miles most days seeing as many sites as time would permit. It was pretty exhausting. We were a small group and for the most part got along beautifully, which I think is particularly noteworthy considering our diversity--3 fundamental Christians (Seventh Day Adventists), several Jewish couples (everyone was straight except for the 2 of us, which as usual was a non-issue), a couple of agnostics, and a couple of really super nice and worldly wise docents from Manhattan who were a total delight to be around. Their frequent injections of their extensive knowledge of the natural sciences into our discussions was absolutely refreshing. Our 2 guides, Mark and Marilyn, moved to Israel a number of years ago from California after spending their lives pursuing several interesting careers, including more than a few collective years with the Peace Corps in several countries. They are such good people. For me Jerusalem is a religious vortex that swirls with dogmatic and hence chaotic behavior. Religious conflict and fervor abounds yet simultaneously manages to find an acceptable level of slightly tense harmony most of the time. Unlike 15 years ago when I frequently prostrated myself before Christian alters throughout the city, called upon the intervention of St. John of the Cross, my patron saint at the time, to guide me into the depths of mysticism, attended mass daily and read the psalms with tears in my eyes, this time I found myself to be a far happier person, still a seeker with no absolute answers, but confident and accepting of things simply as they are without allowing the conditioned mind to interfere too greatly in the experiential. It was good, really good. I was photographed doing my more *advanced* yoga poses at Roman ruins, covered in Dead Sea mud on the sandy beach of the Dead Sea. We trudged along the banks of the Sea of Galilee, winding paths astride the Jordan River, and plunged many times into the salty waters of the the Dead Sea, dodged in and out of dark alleys and old, dusty churches, walked up and down ancient stone steps leading to obscure archaeological sites and marvelled at it all.

The above photos are, in order, flower arrangement in the Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, St. George's Monastery on the Wadi Qilt outside Jerusalem near Jericho, man in prayer in front of the "wailing wall*, sunset over the Sea of Galilee, Gamala, Petra, Ron having an arabic moment, Bedouin dress as seen in the museum in the Roman theatre in Aman, Jordan.

A Mad Cat, No Electricity, a Turquoise Gate and The Moonstone

Last night was downright eerie. I was awakened by the sound of an alarm coming from somewhere in the house but I couldn't tell where (much less why). My first thought was *smoke alarm*, but when I sniffed the air I could smell nothing. I quickly made my way to Dale's end of the house but everything seemed normal. Still, something wasn't quite right. It was so bright outside, and so dark inside. The alarm sounded again. Then I realized that none of the interior lamps or nightlights were on. I flicked the nearest light switch and nothing happened. The familiar glow of digital clocks was suddenly conspicuously absent. There was no electricity. It was so bright outside, but no bad weather. Then I became momentarily frightened. Had someone cut the electricity on purpose? I checked the phone and it was dead. I decided to wake up Dale and get his opinion. He suggested I call the 24 hour hot line and connect with our electrical coop. I found my cell and made the report, the 2nd one the operator had received from customers on our street. No big deal, back to bed. That infernal alarm was downright ear piercing and still I had no idea where it was coming from. I learned the next morning that the sound was driving Dale mad so he followed the sound to the freezer, which apparently has an alarm to let you know the electricity has gone off. Thank you Sears. Push the reset button and the alarm goes off. I found my earplugs and settled back into a deep sleep. I remember dreaming that my cell was ringing, the operator with the utility company was trying to call me but I couldn't find the phone. I managed to get up at 6:00 and barely made it to Anne's class at YYS.

I had forgotten how therapeutic it can be to paint. A wall, a picture, a gate, whatever. In the case of yesterday, I found sweet solace in painting the repaired metal gate that Alejandro fixed for us and then primed (Alejandro finally finished tiling the patio and doing various other little jobs). I just focused on that and nothing else and it brought me to a state of deep relaxation and contentment. No sounds other than that of the natural world. I'm looking forward to applying the second coat. Funny how we forget to do some of the things we particularly enjoy doing. Another example: Most of what I've been reading of late is associated with yoga, or Buddhism, or pranayama...I straightened up my studio and realized I needed to get rid of some books in order to shelf all the newer ones. In doing so, I came across Wilkie Collins's The Moonstone, which I had never read, but bought ages ago when I took a Detective Fiction course. It wasn't on the reading list but was highly recommended. The pages are yellowing and the print is small, but I'm managing just fine. I believe that Edgar Allen Poe is credited with writing the first *detective story*, but the Moonstone is recognized as a masterpiece of detective fiction (and over 500 pages long). It's a great read and I'm totally enjoying it. I've always liked the genre and it's been too long since I read a delicious British detective story!

Poor Ralph! I took him in for a dental cleaning and he ended up having 2 extractions. The stitches will dissolve in 10 to 14 days. He's still mad at me. Mostly because he hates the taste of the pain medication and the antibiotic, both liquid. I'm stopping today with pain drops but will have to finish the antibiotic. Just about the time he'll forgive me, I'll take him in for a 3 week stay at the boarding kennel. Pepe got 2 different shots for his allergies, but since I didn't given them he's not mad at me at all! Cats are such wonderful creatures. Today when I returned from yoga I could hear a squirrel by the garage fussing quite loudly at one of the neighbor's cats that roams free and seems almost feral to us. Sure enough the beautiful Siamese mix took off running when I approached, and his front paw is still causing him problems. I hate to see it, but there's nothing I can do other than breathe in his pain and breathe out compassion. That probably helps me far more than him, but who knows for sure?

The Higher Your Expectations, the Greater Your Disappointments

It has been so long since I've blogged. Long ago a friend wrote on a piece of paper for me "The higher your expectations, the greater your disappointments." This pithy gem of a statement has proven itself to be true over and over again; nonetheless, I do have expectations and sometimes they are set pretty high and when they don't come to fruition, I'm greatly disappointed. Again I
observe yet another issue to deal with over and over again--that of having expectations that are too high in the first place! (Having hope is a wonderful thing, but when one has expectations about some future event that may never come about, those expectations are often time spent dwelling in the future and not staying present, which is okay, but not so great when a lot of time is spent doing this.)

I was so excited about enrolling in the yoga teacher training program this fall. I bought my books in advance. Then the program got cancelled for lack of enrollment and I was so very disappointed. I knew exactly what was going on, I was falling into a depression, but I just couldn't control it. So I just accepted it and let myself cry and feel all the things that were coming up for me, and alas it passed quickly after running it's brief course. I met with an admissions counselor at YogaYoga and that was a good meeting and certainly an excellent alternative, but I
decided to just wait for now, give myself some time to process things, see what might happen, stay open, accept that there are some things that I have no control over, and that things happen for a reason. I wanted to just sit with all this, sit with this sense of groundlessness, and try to be comfortable with it. Something else opened for me that has a bit of magic in it, but before I go into that I want to reminisce:

About 12+ years ago I had some strong urges to go out into the world and find myself. My partner thought I was leaving him but that was never my intention. Nevertheless, I did move and bring about significant changes. One of the things I did was travel to Israel with a small group of *patrons* of Monastery of Christ in the Desert, Abiquiu, New Mexico. I also bought a house there, moved there, it was a very rich and exciting time of life for me. My doctor had
given me some medication that actually made me rather manic. So while traveling in Israel I simply never slept and was already sleep deprived from several months of experiencing this mania. Long term sleep deprivation can have dire consequences. I ended up in a state hospital for the mentally ill in Tel Aviv. I only stayed for a few days before I was *rescued* but it certainly cut short my trip, although it was a fantastic experience. Most people don't understand how I can describe a 3 day stay in a state mental hospital in a foreign country as fantastic but it was. I met some incredible people. Fragile and broken. Sensitive and unable to cope with all the sorrows of their lives. Tragedies. Yes, I got kicked around while trying to sleep on the floor, and yes we had to disrobe and stand in a line, then sit in a large tub and have barely luke warm water poured over us--that was how we were bathed, no privacy. I painted a post-impressionistic-like painting for the head psychiatrist (she was from Russia) and she called me van Gogh and then allowed me take a nap which was normally forbidden. I felt a lot of love from many of my fellow patients.

But, getting back to the present: I told my partner that I wouldn't be doing the teacher training program beginning this fall (maybe this spring, maybe very soon, maybe never). Because he didn't get the opportunity to travel with me to Israel, but only got to fly to Tel Aviv to bring me home, he has always wanted to go there and I have always wanted to return. The available tour options that interested us were all booked up for this fall, so when he learned I didn't have the commitment of the yoga program, he put us on a waiting list and within 2 days 2 people cancelled. So, we are now all booked to go first to Jordan and then to Israel for a total of 20 days. We leave the middle of next month. It is quite fascinating how things happen. I'm enthralled, a bit mystified, somewhat humbled, but above all, grateful. I like a recent email I received, which had the following quote attached:

“It may be that the satisfaction I need depends on my going away, so that when I've gone and come back, I'll find it at home.”-
-Rumi

Ahimsa, Marma Point(s) and Canterra Columns

Today was the last day of a 4 day intensive which was preceded by a 3 day workshop, all led by Murti with Ahimsa as the theme and a focus on the tripod of the foot and drawing energy up from the marma point located at a point near the heel and arch of the foot in a variety of poses. It's just magic and so beautiful. The focus on the marma point on the heel was inspired by recent work with Richard Rosen who is dealing with Parkinson's. Amazing stuff. It's nice that tomorrow I'm free to just get things done around the house, the bathroom guy is coming to reattach my glass sliding doors and we ordered the canterra columns that will replace the Michohuacan columns on the porch/patio on my side of the house outside my studio. The wooden columns are beautiful but they are rotting. The canterra installer will come tomorrow and give an estimate although we have already ordered the columns. I met some really wonderful people at the workshop and classes and will miss them. I decided to opt out of the party tonight at Valerie's place, I'm just not a particularly social person. Besides, two trips into town today was tiring enough!



I reconnected with my masseur last week who's been having some health issues that have prevented our continued work together--actually, preventing him from doing any massage work at all for many months now. I found out he has given up his practice entirely for the time being and has taken a job with Apple, full time. I miss him and my weekly massages, but more importantly I miss our conversations. Robert, you are a fantastic guy and I wish you the very best and I totally enjoyed our visit.

Trunks, Trains, Crocodile Tears

As I opened my eyes this afternoon upon awakening from a particularly deep sleep, I looked out the window from my bed and there in the sky was a most beautiful cloud that had taken on the shape of an elephant. It was so magical, I jumped up to grab the camera, resume my exact place on the bed but alas my first shot was no good and by the time I got the camera positioned and focused for the second shot the cloud no longer resembled an elephant; however, I could still see the shape of an animal head, sans the trunk, now looking more like a large dog.

I've always associated difficult times and suffering with transformation. During a particularly difficult time a number of years ago I had a powerful dream that left a lasting impression on my mind. I can't remember the details although I'm sure it's recorded somewhere in my papers, but I was on a train, traveling, and somehow a baby elephant came to me in the dream and offered me great solace, almost as one would imagine a spirit animal to do, or a guardian angel. It was such a powerful and emotional dream that I found myself literally out there in the world in search of a baby elephant the very next day! Well, not a *real* one, but one that's like a teddy bear. I desperately wanted a baby elephant that I could hold just like a child holds a cherished teddy bear or a security blanket. I had no idea where to find one but I didn't care, I jumped in my car and drove until I came to a Toys R Us. I found a large bin at the bottom of a shelf that contained a variety of stuffed animals, but I could not find an elephant. I searched and searched, reaching deep inside the bin, trying to rotate all the stuffed animals around in such a way that I would be able to see each and every one of them before giving up. No luck. Just as I was prepared to go elsewhere or dismiss my quest as something silly and stupid I heard the sound of a baby elephant coming from the bottom of the bin. Reader, I swear to you this is true. I started crying because it seemed so totally unreal. Even now I have to take some deep breaths and get my bearings as I revisit the memory. I reached my hand deep into the far corner of the bin towards where the sound had come and pulled out the cutest little baby elephant I'd ever seen! (Photo attached). (Press on him and voila, you get three recorded sounds of a baby elephant.) At this time in my life I was learning all about nurturing one's inner child, and the baby elephant came to symbolize this for me. They are fascinating animals. Gentle giants, powerful yet vulnerable, social, living in groups with a matriarch, usually the oldest female in the group, a great aunt, a grandmother, a great grandmother. Just like my childhood. All the love and compassion and strength and safety I could find came from my grandmother and my great aunts. As a child, I loathed my father and most men in general. My, how things change.

I rarely win anything free, but I did win a free consultation with a practitioner of Chinese medicine and acupuncture. We met yesterday and it was pretty powerful. She could really see right through me and I was quite delighted by that albeit somewhat unnerved in the sense that deep emotions were beginning to emerge, which meant I felt safe with her and she was definitely hitting on some difficult truths. She says my chi is out of balance and although she has some very clear and specific suggestions for bringing this into balance, it would involve weekly visits plus all the herbs plus a pretty radical change in diet and I'm just not up for all that right now. I want to transition slowly into trying to find the balance myself. I'm going to look at it as a fortuitous encounter but not take on obligations. I do have a whole page of suggested changes I can work on. More importantly, I need to exercise prudence in my money management at this time. I do want to keep her in mind for possible future work when I have more readily available cash.

After finding the baby elephant my journey took me to live for a year in a remote cabin in the wilds of Northern New Mexico. One of the monks at a neighboring monastery who befriended me gave me his teddy bear that he'd had since childhood, and already he was in his late 40's. I was very touched. Many of the village people accepted me and I learned much of their personal histories, especially through a book written by a native villager who now teaches in Coyote. In some ways it was like living in another country, another culture altogether. Years later after moving back to Austin then to Dripping Springs I noticed something in the middle of the highway one day that particularly grabbed my attention. I turned around and found a discarded baby elephant, lying the middle of the highway. How he eluded being run over I don't know. I cleaned him up and now he lives with the teddy bear and my inner child symbol.

Last night after a great workshop I dreamt I was being chased by a crocodile! I fled to my car and with key in hand I tried to open the door but alas the croc was too fast and I awakened with quite a physical reaction which sent my cats fleeing from the bed in a momentary panic. It's all good, but since he didn't bite me, or devour me, and I escaped by awakening, maybe I've made some not so bad decisions after all, of late.

What Would St. Francis Do?

It's been a good if relatively uneventful week. I enjoyed a 3 hour ANY partner yoga and Thai massage workshop with Jeff as my partner and Andrew as our leader this past Sunday, as well as a couple of ANY classes. I had a long chat with Murti today about his upcoming workshop and week intensive at Austin Yoga, Castle Hill, as well as the retreat he and Gioconda are planning in October in Hawaii, which I'm hoping to attend. I enrolled in Keith's Boddhisatva workshop this weekend which I'm looking forward to, dropped by Castle Hill and purchased all my required books for the upcoming teacher training program and enrolled in Murti's events. Yoga and community is good.





Saw my dentist yesterday for my regular six month check-up and his wife and assistant Rhonda really needed to talk about all the difficulties they have been facing of late--an aging parent in a care facility, the devastating effects of Alzheimer's, and a whole range of medical issues she's been having to deal with. I felt so honored that she was comfortable confiding in me, sharing life's difficulties. I realized later that I've been going there for about 28 years. Of course it was impossible for me to do anything but listen as Dr. Heckmann was at work in my mouth the whole time, but sometimes it's best to just listen and let others talk without giving feedback (unless it's asked for). We all need to be heard, with understanding, and sometimes without any feedback. That was good.





I finally found someone who can repair my bath tub/shower without tearing everything out and having to do major construction. He came up with an excellent solution that will preserve the original design yet fix the problem without it all looking like a patch job.





I don't know what to do about all the raccoons we have around here. I started feeding them and now they expect dinner every night---all of them, and they've grown in numbers. Sometimes I count as many as 8. They come around like clockwork. It's so hot out there but I fear I've made a mistake in allowing their population to grow beyond what would be normal for the amount of food nature provides, but I am finding it exceedingly difficult to not feed them. However, we have decided it's probably the best thing to do as they can become dangerous pests. So I've withdrawn food. Well, I noticed one very persistent adult staring at me through the glass, with such a pleading look. They are still wild animals and run off when I approach with food, or step outside, and when this one took off I noticed a significant limp in his/her back leg. I've seen her several times now and wonder if her leg is broken, of if she has a thorn/infection. Dale doesn't know it, but I'm still feeding her. I love all the animals, but did erect a 7.5' wildlife fence around the property to keep out the deer that were eating all our plants. The fence also keeps out all roaming dogs, which is good, but the property is now a haven for raccoons, squirrels, foxes, and neighboring cats. There are so many birds out here too. But about the raccoons, I wonder what St. Francis would do? I suppose that as long as I continue feeding the birds and squirrels, there will always be grain scattered on the ground that the raccons will find.





I made reservations for dinner tommorrow at San Miguel for Dale and I, Gary and Chris, and Richard and Fred. I look forward to that.

A, B, or C

I never know how long it's going to take me to get somewhere, and I mean that both literally and metaphorically. Getting from here to central Austin can take from 30 minutes to 1.5 hours, it all hinges on traffic. Yesterday when I left for practice I had in mind the possibility of 3 different yoga classes in 3 different studios, all beginning at 9:30 a.m. Should traffic be slow, the plan was to get to the closest one in time; if traffic was *normal* then I might just make it to the studio in north central Austin, the one that is further away in distance than the other two. I'm sure there is little logic to this, but such was my thinking. So keeping an open mind I left the house not knowing exactly where I'd end up for my morning practice.

Stephen Levine writes: "The mind creates an abyss, but the heart crosses it."


Certainly I can get totally lost in my mind and that can include the process of making decisions. It easily leads me nowhere. Into an abyss, round and about mazes, puzzling over nonsensical conundrums, in general pretty useless stuff. I like the notion that our hearts are indeed our *second* brain, and in many ways the far more important one. Most times when I follow my heart, something pretty rich happens. All sorts of things open up, and I don't mean just positive, candy-coated stuff. The real stuff, the stuff of life that really lets me FEEL. Laughter and tears and all that stuff. No doubt it would be far easier to follow my mind but I don't seem to ever get anywhere when I do that. Gratitude, love, grace, touching souls, connecting, being a part of, moving deeper into, listening, hurt, pain, sorrow, grief, being totally raw--all things having to do with feelings are associated with the heart.

Traffic was light so I ended up at the yoga studio located in north central Austin. The substitute teacher was just awesome. The class just totally blew me away. It was what I needed and wanted. I'm humbled when awesome things happen and feel that when such richness and ripeness suddenly makes an appearance I'm experiencing grace. Interestingly, I don't know or even think for a moment that had I chosen studio 1 or studio 2, that grace wouldn't have happened there. I think all we can do is open our hearts, and when we do that, we are open to grace, we are open to gifts, to love, and as well to pain. We are open to growth, to living life authentically.

I need to make some decisions: my bathtub/shower area needs to be repaired. It leaks and is causing damage. I don't know if a simple repair will do the trick or if I'll end up needing a whole new tub, tiling, essentially a complete redo. I do know that dealing with house doctors as they call themselves, contractors, salespeople, plumbers, carpenters...can cause me quite a bit of anxiety. Actually I should say I react with stress when I have to do these kinds of things of which I know very little. I just want it done, but there is no wand to wave, no one person to call and say please take care of this asap, thank you. Like so many other things it's a process. You have to do homework and learn stuff you may have no interest in, and hope you don't end up spending thousands unnecessarily. The only thing I know to do is sit with the anxiety and listen to my what my heart says. The sales lady at Moore Supply entices me to buy the deluxe, homeopathic, bubbly, aroma therapeutic, holistic, essential oils-friendly 60 gallon tub. My heart says Oh Yes, my body is a temple, this is really a healthy thing to do, but my pocketbook says No Way. As Jack Kornfield says, in dealing with all things spiritual, mental, physical....sometimes you simply have to rely on you own common sense. I have a folder with a handout that I sometimes refer to entitled How to Make Decisions. Often there isn't a right or wrong involved, but in the end if you feel pretty good with the outcome then I'd say you made a good decision.

I think I'll revisit that handout.

A Simple Perspective--Who Best to Listen To?

I'm not an expert on anything, and the few things that I feel relatively knowledgeable about, well, there are countless people out there that know far more than I do. I'm not an intellectual, nor am I an academician. I say all this because I want to write about a subject that has the potential to be a sensitive one, but I feel compelled to put my thoughts out there, on this blog, because it has hit close to home. So, in the vein of mostly thinking out loud, in typewritten words, I want to send out a caution to all who are in a serious student-teacher relationship.





Quite a few years ago I began taking yoga at one of the very few places in Austin that offered yoga classes, and I mean literally that there were no more than a very small handful of yoga teachers in Austin. I loved it. It was such a wonderful discovery. I was going through one of the more difficult stages of my life and I was hypersensitive, depressed, and very frightened. I found refuge at this beautiful yoga studio, and the small community of people there. In particular I will never forget one very long afternoon when I simply burst into tears and my teacher wrapped her arms around me and held me, for a long, long time, offering unconditional love and comfort. No words were spoken, just her being totally and unconditionally available to me, giving of herself selflessly. But things began to unravel there and I didn't want to be a part of that unraveling as I had experienced about as much unraveling in my life than I could handle at that time. Briefly stated, the yoga studio owner became pregnant and her husband, a Buddhist monk or priest, left her--abandoned her. Anger, sorrow, fear....ensued and penetrated every aspect of her teaching. Understandbly so, but that's all I wanted to know and that's all I came to know. I just never went back and the studio closed shortly thereafter.





It was an important lesson for me to learn that people are people, people are human. No matter how we represent ourselves to the world, no matter what extraordinary heights we may achieve, we are still human. The Buddha taught to always question everything we are told, including his teachings, and if they don't resonate with truth for us, then don't accept them or believe them. We have an innate tendency to place others on pedestals, to look up to wise and learned people, to draw upon their wisdom, their enlightenment, their teachings, and this is a beautiful thing. But we must always keep in mind that even the most enlightened people we know, the wisest of the wise, the master teacher, he/she is human. As humans, we all make mistakes.

"As far as Buddha Nature is concerned, there is no difference between sinner and sage...One enlightened thought and one is a Buddha, one foolish thought and one is an ordinary person."
---Zen Patriarch Hui Neng



In one of my all time favorite books, A Path With Heart (A Guide Through the Perils and Promises of a Spiritual Life), Jack Kornfield dedicates an entire chapter to the topic of teachers, leaders, and gurus (Ch. 18, The Emperor New Clothes, Problems with Teachers). So very often, in fact more often than is generally realized, when a person achieves an elevated status within a spiritual community, and members of his/her flock begin to grow, so does the temptation of the ego, the tendency towards thinking oneself to be somewhat superior, and when that kind of power sets in the consequences are a common theme throughout history--greed and abuse of power (all too often sexual abuse, and the stealing of money). "Power replaces love."



Kornfield writes: "Another student followed a charismatic Indian guru whose powerful love and teachings brought great joy and peace into his life. The student was a gay man, who had lived in a caring and committed partnership for more than ten years, and when the guru later stated that all homosexuality was a terrible sin that leads to hell, the student's life was nearly destroyed. His relationship was torn apart, and the secret guilt and self-loathing that had plagued this man throughout his childhood returned. Finally, with outside help, the student came to see that while his guru might bring him visions and wonderful meditation teachings, he was really quite ignorant about homosexuality. Only when he realized this, was he able to hold both the teachings he so valued and his own life with equal loving-kindness."



This is almost exactly what happened to me, and in one form or another has happened to many others.



"We can see over and over again how one dimension of life does not automatically bring wisdom in other dimensions. Every teacher and every practice has its strong points and its weaknesses."



Andrew Harvey discusses the falling out he had with his guru, a world renowned guru whose name I do not know. One of my all time favorite yoga teachers, someone I admire, respect, love, and care about, fell victim to this very thing. The leader of a spiritual community begins telling his/her flock to not question what he/she is saying. Remedies and cures of a spiritual nature can be obtained through more generous donation of monies, and worse of all, through sexual interaction with the master himself/herself. This is called abuse. And it happens all the time. Because these people are human too.





When things become dogmatic, one should sit up and take notice. When one's leader seems to hold all the answers, and those answers are very clear, those answers are black and white, those answers are the one and only truth, one needs to beware. Something has gone wrong.





There is nothing wrong with the centuries old yogic tradition of having a master and student. In fact, I'm particularly fond of working one-on-one with a teacher. It's a rich and rewarding tradition. This is how precious knowledge is passed on. It's just another way for us to learn and grow from those who have much to offer. In Universities and college we flock to our favorite professors to impart their knowledge to us. We read books by writers we admire, and we learn and grow. I strongly advocate for all these things. But I also advocate for listening carefully to one's one heart, and most especially, listening to one's gut---one's intuition. Intuition is a powerful tool we can all tap into, it is the wisdom that resides in all of us, and if we listen and then follow our intuition, we can navigate through life without falling victim to bad things quite so often. Most spiritual traditions teach that each and every one of us really has all the answers we need inside of us. Easier said than done, but I think there is much truth in that.

Today, Untitled

I feel totally yucky today. Something has gone awry with the functioning of my lower intestines. I feel so tired. I didn't even go to the Iyengar workshop today, the last day, although I did try. Something in me feels out of balance and I can't figure out what. Did I push myself too hard? Do I need to change my diet? Do I need to do a cleanse? Always I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with me, I get totally caught up in that, just totally lost in it before I realize, hey, this is just an old habit. An old core belief. The belief that I'm totally worthless and not worthy of love. It goes so deep. Sometimes it takes all I have to fight it, but usually when I'm worn down by it all something slowly comes back to me that I learned long ago that all those negative core beliefs are just lies. The old story line that I should know better than buy into, especially after all these years of work. Just maybe it's totally okay to feel rotten from time to time. So I feel rotten, tired, weak, vulnerable, lonely...and so does most of the rest of the world. That doesn't make it any easier, but it is a truth. Yesterday, in front of two yoga teachers, a fellow student in the workshop started talking about me and suddenly burst out with "he is just amazing." The teacher said, yes, he is amazing. My face grew really hot and I knew I was blushing red as a beet. It really bothered me that she said that about me, and I kept having those inner dialogs, the monkey chatter stuff, and then it came to me that I was totally rejecting a compliment. That's all it was, nothing more, nothing less, just a compliment, with loving intentions. I certainly thought of her as amazing, and the two teachers are quite amazing, and so why do I find so many other people just fantasically amazing in so many thousands of ways but I can't accept it when someone sees that in me? Ok, here come the tears, the weeping, and the sadness. I just need to sit with it and let it be, rest into it, feel it. So that's all.

Queerily Questioning

I woke up from my nap a while ago wondering why I wonder? Not to be confused with "I wonder as I wander...". I mean really, it is a pretty queer world in which we live, don't you think? Why yes I do, thank you very much. For example, "isn't it rich, isn't it queer, losing my timing this late, in my career?" Bring in the clowns. Very funny, eh? I never really had much of a career, wasn't born knowing by the age of 4 "oh yes, I want to become a concert pianist" or "I knew from a very early age I was born to do great things in this world." None of this ever happened to me. I'm still searching like a lost soul for answers wherever I can find them, and honestly, I don't spend much time even doing that.

We all have our priorities, I mean really, if I can't have my bowl of Fiber 1 in the morning then you might as well put me in front of a firing squad, and take away my coffee and I'll voluntarily put myself in front of that same firing squad. I've taken to walking the long sidewalk outside from my studio to the garage, probably a distance of about 150 feet, one way. At night when I wake up to piss. Barefoot. Actually, totally naked. (I cannot wrap my mind around how in the world people can sleep wearing clothes). I look up at the marvelous night sky and feel overwhelmed and yet joyful, somehow absurdly safe. Which is quite ironic, what? Those bright lights up there that are coming at me at the speed of light are hitting me after about a million years. Is that queer or what? Take your pick--the phenomenon of this whole incredible universe or me walking outside at 2 in the morning star struck and naked, and feeling pretty damn vulnerable. I wonder if wandering bands of armadillos ever attack humans?

If you take time, which is "a conscious dimension created by man", whatever that means, and put it on a clock, not a digital one, but an analog one, and say that this planet's age can be summed up in its' totality by assigning it a 24 hour life span, then we, as human beings, have been here for about the last second. Or is it 2 seconds? The point is, it's a minuscule piece of the circle. Pretty strange for an animal that has managed to nearly destroy the planet, huh? The dinosaurs were here for millions of years and the last theory I heard was that a huge meteor hit the earth like a thousand and one atom bombs and a heavy cloud dust encircled the globe, hence no sun, no grass, no something--saurases anymore. And here I am worried and denying it to all who might ask that I can't do half moon pose. One day in class a yoga teacher, in describing something like a difficult hip rotation said "it really is just ridiculous" and I thought, wow, you just said something pretty funny and pretty profound. It is ridiculous, it is strange, it is queer. Another something I find exceedingly odd is why do so many people like to fantasize about what it would be like to be rich. REALLY rich. Most people that I've met in my life that are pretty darn rich are also pretty darn unhappy. In fact, some are raving mad lunatics who bemoan the tragedy that they were born into wealthy families. They wonder how rich life might be if only they were like the rest of most of the world, NOT rich (monetarily, of course).

I read about a very poor Indian man who went daily to his local temple and prayed before the statue of a goddess to "please, please, let me win the lottery" (in the spirit that this would bring an end to all his suffering). This went on for days and days until finally the statue of the goddess came to life and said "hey you, would you please, please buy a lottery ticket?" You get the point, but in reality isn't winning the lottery close to impossible? I think I've read that you are more likely in your lifetime to get struck by lightening 54 times before winning the lottery. (not Cash 5 or Two Step and some other exceptions). I've also read that a study of big time lottery winners has shown that most find their lives shattered in a bad way, big time. It's just too much to handle for most. They learn that their money cannot buy happiness. Still, knowing all this, I bet most of us would still like to win. Weird.

My nocturnal walks on the sidewalk leading to the garage have me wondering what it would be like to sit my butt down on the sidewalk and try meditating, without moving, until sunrise? Could I possibly do that? Would I want to? I spent a small fraction of 2 afternoons this week picking up trash that someone threw out their window onto our property. Plastic bottles, empty packages of cigarettes, Taco Bell wrappings and drink cups, can after empty can of tree wound paint. That's right, people who would spend their days trimming and pruning trees, painting the cuts with a thick, gooey black dressing so as to prevent any sort of boring insects from infecting the tree would, without thought, toss the equivalent of 2 large plastic garbage bags of trash out onto some unsuspecting person's property. Don't they know it's been over 100 degrees out here in the afternoons and it ain't fun picking up someone else's trash? So as I picked up all this trash I kept wondering what it would be like if I could be out here in this sweltering heat picking up this trash and just be in the moment and enjoy myself? Stop thinking about the who, or what, or why of any of it but just slowly and mindfully pick up the cigarette butts, the rotting jalapeno wrapped in saran wrap, the cans of tree wound goo and just put in the my black garbage bag and say to myself, I can be totally contented doing this right now, in this moment? I tried it and it worked, sort of. Well, it did, sort of. Well, not totally, but I gave it a good effort. Then I found a piece of paper amongst all the garbage with some names and phones numbers listed and made a couple of calls. My messages were like this: do you know who might have thrown garbage on my property? Don't they know it's illegal? Don't they know someone has to pick it up? And so on like that. And yet calmly (well, kind of). The next day *they* sent someone out to the house to pick up all this trash! Excuse me, I said, but in my message I thought I had stated that I had already picked up all the trash? Whatever, it was all very strange.

I'm doing an Iyengar workshop every day this week and still making it to my focus on form class. It's not really an immersion, but still, we are a very small group and get lots of individual attention. I can never get it totally right. Who can? It's a process that has no end, no ultimate goal whereby you can say eureka! I've gone as far as possible with this and now I'm going to be out there amongst all those stars in another dimension totally enlightened.

I highly recommend Vanda Scaravelli's beautiful book Awakening the Spine published by Harper Collins. In her 80's or 90's there are photos of her doing viranchyasana, yoga nidrasana (sleeping pose), kapotasana (back-bend with knees bent on the floor, top of head touching the floor, elbows to the floor, tops of fingertips touching bottoms of toes). It really is just totally ridiculous. :-) But beautifully rich and queer.

Day Bangs and Night Knocks

Regularly, since we built this house eleven years ago, a wide range of birds have come crashing into our windows with a loud bang that sends me running to see what has happened every single time. Even the cats prick up their ears at the sound which can be more than a little disconcerting. One day I watched in amusement, which quickly turned to dismay, then horror, as a beautiful red cardinal, perched on the branch of a very old red bud tree, kept flying and crashing his body into the large, north facing window of my studio. At first I thought he might be trying to destroy or knock down this newly constructed obstacle in a quixotic show of bravado. Thinking that to be an unlikely explanation, I wondered if he was seeing his reflection in the window and, thinking it a rival, was laying claim to his territory in a battle of dominance. No, that's what lions do. Hmm. To the best of my recollection, male Cardinals have always lived in harmony with one another. But as I watched, this determined bird continued to hit the glass over and over until blood began to appear on the glass, and I decided I didn't care why he was doing what he was doing but I wasn't going to stand there any longer and just be an observer. This bird was seriously injuring himself. Why such aggression? I chased him away and hung a large piece of fabric from the rafter directly in front of the window. Mission accomplished until the next day when he was back fighting with his reflection again on the other window. Soon I had ordered colorful banners to hang in front of the suspect windows and watched them blow in the wind as bird after bird continued crashing into windows. Was this a bird flight path? Even today, all these years later, I don't know the answer. Mourning doves make the loudest bang of all and nearly always leave a large imprint as well as a few feathers either stuck to the glass or floating to the ground by the time I arrive to investigate. A beautiful red bellied woodpecker crashed into the window but a few days ago and I watched as he lay on the back porch stunned into near unconsciousness, only minutes later to fly to a nearby branch where he stayed put until he gained back enough equilibrium to take off in flight. (Just this very moment a cardinal flew up to the kitchen window and hit with a light bang of his beak).

Each year we have a pair of painted buntings that come to hatch their eggs and raise their young. Last year I found the mother painted bunting on the ground outside the large pane of glass that frames the view from my shower, dead. I've learned that many birds are knocked unconscious long enough to attract fire ants which begin eating them alive, starting with their eyes. I place the stunned the bird in a shoe box on the patio table until it recovers the strength to fly away. Of course the unlucky ones break their necks and never know what happened. It's a strange phenomenon. I once read that birds crash into trees with some degree of frequency in the wild. How many of us have wished we could sprout wings and take flight? Apparently, it isn't as easy as it looks.

During the year I spent raising my nephew he expressed fear, especially at night, at the sight of the many windows I insisted be part of the design of this house. It was never my intention to have curtains or window coverings but now we have accumulated a few, although most of the glass remains unobstructed so as to bring the outdoors inside. I love that feeling. I was awakened one night by a loud knocking sound. Pretty scary, until I decided that my friend Gary, who never rings the doorbell but always comes to the studio entry and knocks, must be having domestic problems and had come for a visit in the middle of the night. But Gary was nowhere to be seen, after all, it was 1:30 in the morning. This happened more than a few times and I've got to tell you, it scared me and had me wondering if there might be a lunatic on the loose who likes to peek in windows, knock loudly and then run off. While napping one afternoon I was awakened by the mysterious knocking, jumped up and ran outside as fast as I could to see the culprit flying away from the apex of the roof on the far east side of the house, right outside my bedroom. Yes, a woody wood pecker was flying away. He came again for awhile, the powerful pecking of his beak in search of bugs in the wood replicating the exact sound of a person knocking at the door. Strange things happen to those of us who live in the middle of the woods.

I went through a phase that lasted for many years whereby I'd hit my head pretty hard against all sorts of things. When mowing the lawn I'd hit my head on low hanging tree branches--big ones that would have me seeing stars. It happened over and over again on kitchen cabinets, pieces of furniture, I've even opened doors with too much force while moving forward only to get knocked on the head. Cuts, bruises, and bleeding. It was just absurd. By the time the wound would heal, I'd do it again. My therapist told me these were not accidents. I guess I was trying to knock some sense into myself, or trying to get myself to slow down and be present. Rarely am I fully present and I still have to work hard at slowing myself down, but I haven't had a bang on the head for quite a long time. Knock on wood.

Dark Shadow of Self

Yesterday, on the drive home from practice and a brief stop at Whole Foods, I must have listened to Gary Jules sing Mad World half a dozen times. I just love that song, the lyrics are simple yet beautifully encompass elements of the human condition. I'd venture to hypothesize that such songs as this elicit as many meanings and associations as there are people listening. Here's the refrain:



And I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very, very mad world

Many of us have seen the "crazy of the busies" in ourselves and others--running around blindly doing so many things for the purpose of avoidance of coming face to face with ourselves, our unique and beautiful qualities as well as our demons. Busy is wonderful when it's organized, efficient, productive, and examined. But running around keeping busy, busy, busy just for the sake of being busy can easily be labeled as a sort of madness.

I want to hone in on the lines "The dreams in which I'm dying Are the best I've ever had" as dreams have been a topic of much interest to me. For me, when one dies in a dream it can represent the death of an aspect of one's self which is usually a very good thing because after death there is rebirth. We die to the old and are born to the new. We rise as phoenixes. We shed our skins and re-emerge to face the world anew. We let go of those parts of ourselves that no longer serve us, or that are harmful and toxic to ourselves or others and in doing this

We enlarge our worlds ("Enlarge your world" Gary Jules sings).

There is a particular dream that many of us have had in which we come face to face with our darkest side, our most scary aspects, our Dark Shadow. This can be harrowing to say the least, and is usually the prelude to a significant transitional period. Here is how mine played out:

In the middle of the night he appeared at my bedroom door, a dark figure cloaked in black, faceless, not at all unlike Darth Vader. He never speaks, and I find it so very hard to look his way, and I'm very scared. It's a nightmare that's happening in the worse way. I am paralyzed with fear. I try screaming but nothing comes out. He walks over to me and I close my eyes. I can feel his presence right next to me. He plunges a knife deep into my chest and the pain is so excruciating that I awaken from the dream in a panic and feel the pain of the stab until it slowly subsides. Was that a dream? It was so real. He comes again week after week always moving next to me on the bed and stabbing me. These nights are agony when he comes.

I book an appointment with my most beloved therapist, my spiritual guide, teacher, a man I totally love, admire, and respect. I haven't seen him in months. He tells me that my visitation is that of my Dark Shadow. It's those dark parts of me whose very existence I have refused to acknowledge, deal with, accept...this part gets complex so I'm going to gloss over and move on. How do I make him go away and stop scaring the hee bee gee bees out of me? You embrace him, I'm told, you make yourself face him without fear and let him know you want to befriend him, get to know him, love him.

I cannot imagine actually doing this but once I understand this shadow is really me, and that I must go directly into and through the fear to understand it and for healing to begin, I make up my mind that this is exactly what I MUST do. And so I do it, nothing really dramatic, I just do it. When next he comes I somehow manage to sit up in my dream and face him and send out feelings of acceptance, of fearlessness, of a willingness to get to know him. He vanishes and never returns, but my work has just begun. Lots of work. Never ending. Learning to take "the road less traveled", the "path with heart". Fears fall away and I trust this spiritual/psychological process of healing, of recovery, of being real with myself, of being honest with a rawness I'd never known. I brought my dark shadow into the light, hence integration began. Transition.

Jung calls this the Shadow Self. St. John of the Cross writes of the Dark Night of the Soul. I needed to die unto myself in order to move into a new world of being awake, paying attention to me and my needs. (At first this may sound selfish but until we are in touch with ourselves, until we learn to heal and to love ourselves, we are of little use to others). I had to let go, forgive, seek guidance and understanding, and this has been very hard work. Over time we gather the tools we need to help us on our journey.

Last night I picked up Elizabeth Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love and within seconds came upon the following passage:

"I explained to the medicine man that I've been having the same horrible nightmare since childhood, namely that there is a man with a knife standing next to my bed. This nightmare is so vivid, the man is so real, that it sometimes makes me scream out in fear. It leaves my heart pounding every time (and has never been fun for those who share my bed, either). I've been having this nightmare every few weeks for as long as I can remember."

The medicine man goes on to explan that this man is not her enemy...

Wow.