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.
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.
