It Is Not Easy

I'm fascinated by one of the synonyms for alcohol, which is spirit or spirits. Why is alcohol referred to as spirits? Alcohol transports us to an altered state of mind, a changed state of consciousness, as, for example, do the hallucinogens used by certain indigenous peoples of the Americas in their various Shamanic and other ritualistic, spiritual practices. When we sleep and dream we again leave the day to day waking state of consciousness and visit a world, which, for the most part, is a transcendent world we do not often fully comprehend, yet one we are generally quite fascinated with. We love to tell others of our dreams, as though we have seen a strange and alien movie, often not realizing we are describing our own thoughts and feelings clothed in a language and symbology not well understood, yet one that has been created by our own subconscious mind and having everything to do with our day to day waking conscious life. Perhaps a kind of doorway of understanding into those things in life that challenge us, scare us, perplex us, and so on. When we allow our inhibitions, our fears, our walls to fall down, we are left quite vulnerable, and most of us do not like being in that state of vulnerability. When we pay close attention to our lives and to our dreams, they reveal themselves.  When we approach challenges with a sort of open hearted vulnerability, we allow for the space needed to more fully face what is before us.  Long ago, when I was a teen, I wrote a short poem that I wanted to be inscribed on my gravestone.  At that time, I was certain I would die very young.  It went something like this:

  At night I hear the spirits singing,
  The wind, their wing, their very being,
  Does blow and bring their melody.

Like so many others, I often craved the transcendent state of death because I felt so very ill equipped to deal with the present, so unable to awaken to life, so frightened of, shall we say Reality, or more accurately, to escape the suffering ego.  If I were to re-write this little poem today, I might very well substitute wing with the word breath.  The meaning would remain essentially the same, but my understanding has grown over the years. I associate breath with prana, although they are not the same, prana being the cosmic breath, the universal vital energy of life and beyond.  Even today in asana practice, I encountered several moments whereby I noticed myself nearly gasping for breath for no apparent reason.  But there was a reason, and I am sure I know what it is.  Those traces of deep rooted fears that occasionally get triggered.  People used to ask me, when talking about a particular fear, what's the worse that could happen?  the answer being "I could die."  This can be the ultimate fear because we as humans tend to naturally fear the unknown, and yet, paradoxically, we are always reaching out trying to touch that unknown, that which transcends consciousness as we know it, that which takes us to another place that we both long for and fear. 

This past Sunday, a man who has been my friend longer than anyone else on this planet, passed away at the age of 58.  Death of loved ones can shake me to the core.  I gasp for breath, I cry, I am engulfed by a deep, tender sadness that I know I must feel fully in order for the feelings to pass through me.  As Stephen Cope says, when we allow our emotions (and there are no exceptions) to be fully felt they pass through us like the many patterns of weather.  Let the storms happen and just breathe.  Iyengar says that everyone desires samadhi, it is in our very nature to want to transcend, to unite with that which is blissful, but most transcendent methods are unsustainable.  We need to do our best and never rest on our laurels.  It is not easy.  Good-bye my dear friend, I will listen for you in the wind. 

Old Towne Dubrovnik

Our apartment here in Old Towne, Dubrovnik, is old, cluttered, and noisy!  Updated with modern conveniences, yes, but still, an old air charm that doesn't quite work for me.  Two more days of leisurely sightseeing then we fly back to Barcelona where we board the ship for 16 days of cruising the Mediterranean followed by a transatlantic crossing.  I loved Barcelona.  I imagine going back, renting an apartment long term, studying Spanish, and visiting the Iyengar Yoga Center regularly.  It is a city of 1.3 million, but well organized with beautiful old buildings, long tree lined avenues, extremely pedestrian friendly.  Almost anywhere in the city you are within a few blocks of just about everything you would need--grocery stores, banks, cafes, shops. There is really no distinction between commercial and residential, it is all combined, as are most European cities.  Parks everywhere, museums, galleries, with no shortage of interesting things to do and see.  And, not so very expensive.  It is so very vibrant, alive, and friendly.  Very different here in Dubrovnik.  In general, I get the impression that the employees and proprietors of stores and restaurants seem annoyed and unhappy, possibly because the place is so densely packed with tourists--from outside the old town, from ships, and from those of us staying within her walls.  And to imagine, we are well past the height of the the tourist season! I just don't get a positive vibe at all.  The hustle and bustle in the old town may be different from outlying areas, I don't know.  Yesterday we finally found the Dominican Monastery that seemed so elusive.  It was very quiet there, with no other tourists at all.  A complete refuge.  No wonder it was hard to find.  It was nice to just sit and feel the silence.  Today and tomorrow we have a long list of things to see--the Synagogue Museum, the home of Marin Drzic, the former convent of St.Clair, the Church of St. Saviour, a Franciscan Monastery, St. Blaise Church, the Rector's Palace, and more, or not.  Maybe more than one gelato break, as they are everywhere. 

Time to eat breakfast and get moving. 

Bits of Barcelona

It is so nice to get away from all the politics of home.  I will be very disappointed if Obama loses.  Barcelona is a fascinating city, there is so much to do and see, it's a matter of picking and choosing, somewhat randomly.  It rained most of the day but we managed to see Gaudi's absolutely fascinating Cathedral as well as Barcelona Cathedral.  Such a fascinating architectural contrast.  We have many more things to see, but we are taking it all in stride, moving slowly and not rushing anything.  I've arranged a 90 minute massage tomorrow afternoon after a full morning of touring.  We rented a lovely 3 bedroom apartment right next to the old town (Gothic), in Eixample.  Very nice and comfortable and spacious, and we can prepare our own food when we want.  Neighborhood food markets, bakeries, fruit and vegetable stalls, and cafes are in abundance.  Taxi fare is reasonable, and they are easy to find.  The city seems very alive and vibrant.  There are a couple of Iyengar Studios here I hope to visit.  After six nights here we fly to Dubrovnik via Vienna to an apartment we've rented in the Old Towne.  Then we cruise the Mediterranean, revisiting Seville and Lisbon, and seeing Madeira for the first time.  Afterwards, a transatlantic crossing.  All in all in a longer trip than usual for us, but leisurely and slow paced.  Nicole Rodriguez is taking care of the house and the cats.  I already miss my cats but get regular updates.  Off to bed!

Fractured and Running

I went to a memorial service this weekend for a friend who recently succumbed to the suicidal impulse.  This impulse can be overwhelmingly powerful among those who suffer from bipolar illness, especially when one has been experiencing a particularly powerful, sustained manic episode.  Sleep deprivation can have fatal consequences.  This young man did everything right, well almost everything.  He was in tip top physical condition, he did yoga, he went through yoga teacher training, he dedicated himself to meditation practice, had a Buddhist master under which he studied, took the bodhisatva vow, saw a therapist, belonged to various groups--Buddhist, Sufi, music, poetry, support.  He had a wide circle of friends who loved him dearly.  He was a massage therapist who created a unique method he called Guided Release Therapy, in which he guided his clients through a methodical, hands on approach towards achieving a deep, meditative state of relaxation/release.  He was a bright spirit, he gave of himself, he went about living life fully.  He was remarkable, and it was an honor to know him and work with him.

In the case of bipolar illness, one must follow medical protocol and get stabilized on medication in order to achieve a stable foundation on which to function, to chemically control the imbalances that are occurring in the brain. Even though this often is not an easy task, and, unfortunately, in some cases may take months, even years, this is a cardinal rule.  Improving diet, meditating, staying healthy, avoiding alcohol, doing yoga--these are feats of accomplishment to be greatly admired.  But they will not "beat" or "overcome" the illness.  It must be treated professionally by a skilled psychopharmacologist.  I recently took a workshop with George Purvis, a senior Iyengar teacher who has so much to teach.  He told us that a number of years ago he was diagnosed with advanced stage melanoma.  The prognosis for this is not good.  His doctors prescribed an aggressive treatment program that left him exhausted and weak.  His students, and others, asked, why are you not doing yoga, or using yoga to treat yourself?  His doctors told him if he didn't follow the outlined, aggressive treatment program he would be dead in a matter of months.  So he did not do yoga for a prolonged period of time.  In truth, he was doing yoga the whole time, because he clearly had developed a keen intelligence (buddhi) that guided him in the direction that resulted in conquering this aggressive cancer through "correct" thinking.  The bipolar sufferer, when in a state of chemical imbalance, cannot think clearly.  In fact, some move into states of psychosis.  Good judgment flies out the window.  The pain endured by these sufferers can be profound.  The impulse to end it all can be irresistible.

I mourn the loss of my friend, I grieve, I cry, I place flowers at the memorial created at the entrance to his house, I light a candle, I remember his sweetness and tender heart, his beauty.  I feel deep empathy for his suffering.  Then, I move into anger, which I believe is appropriate, healthy, therapeutic.  We must make room for all feelings that come up.  I'm angry that he killed himself, especially in such a violent manner.  I'm angry that he didn't take better care of himself in a way that might have prevented this.  I'm angry that he left so many people behind who love him dearly and who suffer from his loss.  After the anger will come forgiveness.  I am almost there.  We do our best, and that is all we can do.  And sometimes, that just isn't enough.  Sometimes we fail ourselves.  Sometimes the systems, our systems, our most keenly developed intelligence, fails us.  And that is just how it is, and ultimately it's all okay.

Recommended reading:  Kay Redfield Jamison, "Night Falls Fast (understanding suicide)"
                                        B.K.S. Iyengar, "Light on Life"

      

Sweet Joshua

May the melody of your song forever be heard by all who knew you.  May you rest peacefully.  Thank you for sharing.  Our paths intersected only briefly on this often, very difficult journey, but I was deeply touched by your loving, kind spirit. 

Dinosaurs of the Past and the Present

A therapist once told me that when we express our anger in an honest, calm, appropriate manner, we will find the experience empowering.    No doubt anger is one of the most complex emotions we as humans deal with.  Of course we learn more about ourselves when we scrutinize our anger, but expressing our anger as above stated also has the potential of being a significant learning experience for the person to whom we are expressing our anger (or not).  Defining anger in itself can be a challenge, there are so many degrees of anger, from cold, passive, hostile to raging, maniacal, out of control.  No doubt, suppression of anger will inevitably lead to an explosion, and that is not the best way to deal with this powerful emotion.  I have a neighbor who is about as different from me as is imaginable.  He's military retired, Vietnam veteran, Republican, right wing, conservative, hog hunter, foul-mouthed.  I can live with that.  I have kept my mouth shut when he comes on to our property (invited) carrying his pistol.  I have said nothing when he makes racial slurs, or belittles groups of people.   Instead, what I have done in my "neighborly relationship" with him is try to look past all the ignorance, the bigoted remarks, and yet remain true to myself in that I don't agree with him on things he says, I don't pretend to be anyone other than who I am, but clearly there are many topics that are never brought up in the course of our conversations (i.e. things of interest to me!).  If I say something about yoga, he goes dead silent.  Still, he definitely has a curiosity going on with me.  He does try to bring up topics that many would find taboo.  Sometimes I think he is aiming to shock, which doesn't happen with me.  This man has some very good qualities.  He mows up and down the street, both sides, and our street is one mile long.  He has repaired our tractor mower, chainsaw, come to my aid and fixed my fence when someone crashed through it.  He helps all the neighbors (who will allow it) with mowing, chipping, cutting down trees, creating fire barriers, and much more.  I believe he would do just about anything he could to help me if I were in trouble.  He's a real character, quite the bossy type, wants to be in control.  In many ways I like him and try hard to be tolerant and accepting of his "type" which is not a whole lot different from my maternal grandfather.

I dreamt of seeing a mouse at the bottom of long, dark, tubular hole in the ground.  His eyes were glowing.   Tunnels or holes in the ground usually mean we are are hiding or repressing something, perhaps our assertiveness?  A mouse can represent our, well, mousy qualities, hidden away, quiet, repressed, withdrawn.  Bright glowing eyes may indicate seeing, awareness, even in darkness, the "I" within us has the ability to see--intelligence. 

And so today my anger came gushing out when I received yet another in a string of political, anti-Obama cartoons and other such offensive emails.  I wrote back to him and spelled out in no uncertain terms my political and religious views which are extremely liberal.  Do I feel empowered?  Not really, just a little nervous that maybe he will shoot me.  Just kidding.  I do feel unsettled inside.  Uncomfortable that I put so much of myself out there.  Perhaps I feel vulnerable.  But I do see how I was really NOT being true to myself when in the moment I didn't speak my mind.  After all, many of his statements are extraordinarily offensive.  So I'm sitting here writing about it, thinking about it, and deep down inside I know I've done the right thing.  Doing the right thing doesn't always make us feel good in the short term.  It may make us uneasy when we feel forced to reveal our truer natures to someone who is so radically different from us.  But we are all connected on some deeper level, right?  In truth, the man really likes me, I can tell.  If I were to go with the flow, we would be spending a great deal of time together, which is the last thing I want.  It has been an interesting experience.  Since I spoke out (albeit in a mousy way) in an email rather than in person, I haven't heard a word from him.  I'm not surprised.

I've been thinking of obstacles, those things that daily get in our way, but how many of these obstacles are illusions?  How many of these obstacles have we created?  What obstacles do we experience that make us feel we need to hide or repress ourselves, our feelings and emotions?  Fear of judgment, ridicule, shame, nonacceptance, and ultimately, fear of not being loved?  Yes. 

So I'm sitting in the opened door of a helicopter flying above a sloping, dry, somewhat barren landscape in which numerous fires line the ground below in the shapes of many disconnected arteries and veins.  Suddenly the helicopter bumps into a giant (yes, like Jack in the Beanstalk), but the collision is of no significance, and we continue on our way, no problem. 

When we examine our lives, there will be times when we are cynical, pessimistic, when life seems somewhat barren and dry.  But inside, if our internal fires of transformation are burning, if we continue to study ourselves, to examine things,  if the blood coursing through or veins is alive with the fire of illumination, of purification, if our life blood is on fire so to speak, then obstacles that may once have caused us to come crashing down to earth may only be momentary bumps in our journey, and soon we may again look at the landscape of our lives and see things very differently, and all this can change from moment to moment in our daily musings and interactions with others.  Similarly, in another dream, a group of dinosaurs came bursting through the top of a glass building which was under construction, causing many workers to fall to their deaths, and when these huge beasts of a bygone era came running directly towards me, face to face, I dived into my car and they moved overhead causing no damage whatsoever.  Old issues will always be with us in some form or another, but they need not have any effect on our daily lives if we face them head on.  This is the way of healing. 

I was talking to a friend this weekend, and learned of her collection of phobias.  One of the most common phobia is a fear of flying, which in today's world can be quite an obstacle if one has the desire to travel to far away lands and interact with other societies and cultures, which can be profoundly enriching, or even visit friends or family a state or more away.  When this particular fear controls our actions, from my perspective it is most definitely an obstacle.  I was really touched by this woman, and her sharing with me, and others, so openly, of her fear of flying.  I understand this fear intimately.  My history is filled with phobias, a collection of them, that at times rendered me unable to function in a variety of settings.  A fear of flying, a fear of heights, of high bridges and high buildings, of riding in elevators, of riding up an escalator, a fear of speaking in any public situation, including the classroom, a fear and deep shame of my body and letting anyone see me unclothed.  As a child, I would not go out in public unless the top collar of my shirt was buttoned and my arms covered with long sleeves.  Some of these fears are not so very controlling, while others are.  One avoids all sorts of situations.  My worst phobia, the one that most controlled my life and behavior for many years, was a fear of public restrooms.  I would go into total panic mode if I had to use a public restroom.  Sitting through a movie was outrageously difficult, and my fear of needing to use the restroom would be so strong and powerful that I often found I had no idea what was going on on-screen.  At one point in my life I decided to essentially stop drinking liquids, as much as possible, and I got sick.  That was not an answer, but more of a cry for help.  The answer lies in going directly into the heart of the fear, the core of the fear, and dealing with it head on.  This process may take many years and diving deep into these dark, hidden recesses.  This is not so easily done alone, and I don't recommend that (going alone).  The good news:  these phobias can be overcome, and with this comes inexpressible liberation.

Fear and anger can be deeply intertwined.  Unresolved, they can cause so much disturbance in our lives that we often feel so overwhelmed that we decide to end it all.  That of course is not a solution.  The solution lies in self-study, self-examination, digging, probing the depths, reaching out, seeking, reading, talking, finding those whom we can trust, finding people who can teach us and lead us, but they must be people who truly care about us and the work they are doing.  We quickly learn how we are so much not alone in our fears, or in our despair, or in our debilitating phobias.  The truth is, we can overcome.  We can prevail and be victorious in our personal battles with our demons.  Through self-love, self-acceptance, community, and sharing, we can find a great deal of emancipation. 




 

The pace of life has been revved up of late and I'm thinking at the moment how nice it would be to stay in bed late this morning, reading my book, watching the sun come up, and writing some in my much neglected blog.  It was sad to put my oldest cat to sleep, but his time had come.  It's always emotional staying with them while the doctor administers the first shot (anesthesia), then the last shot.   Ralph's primary vet did such a good job of treating his early onset of kidney disease that I wanted him to be the one to euthanize Ralph.  He's the only vet I've ever worked with who injects the second, fatal shot directly into the heart.  The first time he did this, even though he warned me beforehand, was quite a shock--he kind of stabbed Adam in the heart with the syringe in his fist, then pushed the top of the syringe with his thumb to inject the lethal dosage.  Actually, the image rather haunted me for quite some time.  I just wasn't accustomed to seeing it done that way.  With Ralph, even though he followed the same procedure, he did it more gently than with Adam, and it just didn't bother me like it did the first time.   I know that with sick animals it can be quite an ordeal finding a vein, and if they are totally anesthetized, the driving of the needle directly into the heart is painless and death is instantaneous.  Still, it strikes me as somewhat unorthodox, which is okay.  We laid him out on the bed in the guest room for the other cats to see, and to prepare his grave in the backyard.  In the meantime, we purchased a toolbox at Home Depot to serve  as a casket, which we wrap repeatedly in wire to prevent animals from ever being able to dig up the body.  We stopped at HEB and got our flu vaccinations.  Then we buried Ralph.  Dale and I openly cried.  It had rained heavily the day before and the digging was easy.  He is the fifth cat to be buried in our cat cemetery.

The next morning,  I woke up with a very sick feeling in my stomach, which got worse throughout the day.  No fever, no nausea, no diarrhea, just pain in the stomach and weakness, which lasted a couple of days.  I repeatedly went over everything I had done and eaten and came up with nothing.  Was I that stressed about Ralph? A couple of days later I attended a yoga class in Wimberley and the teacher said she had experienced the same stomach bug and so had many others.  Why I'm always thinking I've done something "wrong" when I get sick is a testament to a lack of acceptance that things often just happen for no discernible reason.  Why I felt compelled to throw out my homemade Kombucha, to wonder if I was suddenly allergic to flu shots, and on and on, is where I put too much of my energy.  After a quick recovery, I took Pepe to his vet in Round Rock to see what we needed to do regarding his allergy shots, then I got a complete eye exam, ordered new glasses, picked them up a week later, had a 90 minutes massage with a trainee (thank you Brooke!), did a power yoga class and sweated profusely, then went to Peggy's Monday afternoon yoga class.

Our new cat, Greyson, is quite the character and spent the night with me for the first time last night--I put all the other cats in the sun room and was surprised at how well behaved he was on his first night alone in my section of the house. He's a born acrobat, and I need to take some video of him jumping way up off the ground and turning around completely in mid-air. I've never seen a cat do this. I've got to teach him that he cannot continue destroying roll after roll of toilet paper. He's so beautiful, with distinctly dark stripes contrasted with grey ones, exceptionally large paws, an extra long fluffy tail, and a gentle confidence that makes him appear to be smiling when he looks you directly in the eyes. 

We downloaded our "docs" from Holland America and are all set to be gone for 26 days, except that the cat sitter who has taken care of our cats for years has moved on to another job, so I need to interview someone new and make a selection.  We've rented an apartment in Barcelona, then on to Sitges, then to another rented apartment in Dubrovnik, then board the Nieuw Amsterdam in Barcelona for a seven day cruise around the Mediterranean--visiting places in Spain, Portugal, Madeira, then an Atlantic crossing to Fort Lauderdale.  

I can feel the warmth of the sun coming through the window.  I can still feel fall in the air.  I think the burning ban has been temporarily lifted so we may burn more brush today.  There is always so much to do outdoors.  But for now, I'm just going to close my eyes and feel the sun. 

Tasting Fall

At least twice in the night I awakened from powerful dreams that left me feeling deeply sad, alone, and introspective of my life.  As a withdrawn and reticent child, I dwelt much of the time in the land of daydreams.  Houses were always a powerful symbol for me, and I felt that if I could live in one of those big houses I passed on the other side of town as I walked home from school that my life would somehow be so much better than it was.  I wanted many aspects of my life to be better, certainly very different from the way things were at that time.  I wanted to be enveloped in a nurturing environment, one of safety and security.  Even today, when I catch myself daydreaming of moving into a different house, I know that feelings are coming up for me having to do with loneliness, fear, insecurity, and being all alone in the world.  Our fantasies/musings can reveal so much to us.  And so it seems that the more we grow and learn and find our way, so too can those feelings of discomfort  become deeper and more challenging.  We try to direct our lives as best we can, we select a journey, a path, set goals, and do our best, but still, I think we often find all sorts of things happening to us that come as a total surprise.  It's as if, as I dreamt, we are driving alone in a car only to find that we have fallen asleep at the wheel and are supine across the front seat of the car, yet miraculously as we sit up and grab the steering wheel we realize that the car has continued the journey without our being fully awake or aware.  And, there is the symbolism of all those bridges.  I dreamt I was crossing a narrow wooden bridge--more like a pier--only inches above the water, and somehow I managed to stay the course until the moment I reached land, and then the car wheels veered off into water and mud.  Suddenly two people (aspects of myself) appeared to assist--a strong muscled female to pull the car and a male who assisted her.  Never underestimate the power of those healing feminine aspects of ourselves, nor the importance of her opposite.  Always know that there will be times when we are driving in the dark yet have no idea how, if, or when the journey will end, and learning that this is okay, we can let go of the steering wheel and rest and it may very well be the best thing we can do.  Those transformations that we make--physical, mental, spiritual--may require deep focus and concentration, and in the end we may get where we are going but we will require the assistance of our gut, our intuitive selves, teachings, our inner strengths to pull us through. 

Since I turned 60 earlier this year, it seems as though I've been working a little harder at paying attention to maintaining good health--yogasana, diet improvements, practicing more and more on letting go.  Lao Tsu said, "Know yourself.  Know what is good.  Know when to stop." (page 117, Light on Life, B.K.S. Iyengar).  It's all about balance, moderation, and certainly learning when to stop.  Although I try very hard to not judge others, but to be objective in my observations, I do find that I've detached myself in many ways from old friends and family members who seem bent on self-destruction.  There is a sadness in this, but my reasoning is that some people, no matter how deeply I have loved them, are just too exhausting and draining to be around and interact with.  After all, what is more complex than our relationships with others? I recently read that often it is through our silence that we can can best express our truth. I am still pondering that because it does have a powerful message. When is this true and when it is not true? When best to speak candidly, honestly, and assertively vs. when to let our thoughts and feelings stay with us and just be with them without feeling we must vocalize them? 


"As we learn to have compassion for ourselves, the circle of compassion for others -- what and whom we can work with, and how -- becomes wider." When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chodran.


My senses were filled with the beginnings of Fall in the air this morning.  Vata season.  I got a new chainsaw and have been clearing away trees and branches that are too close to the house, trying to create a fire barrier.  The Labor Day fires of Central Texas, 2011, were tragic for so many of our fellow citizens.  At that time, we packed a few bags, brought in the cat carriers, and were prepared to evacuate, knowing we would be leaving behind most everything except our lives.  One of my neighbors, a pistol carrying, Air Force retired Viet Nam veteran, with a car sticker that says "ultra right wing Republican"  has been incredibly helpful, repairing our tractor mower, fixing our old chainsaw, bringing over his farm-size equipment to help in creating fire breaks.  We live in entirely different worlds, and yet we both meet in that area of common ground and interact in ways that really are, at best, sweet and challenging.