Searching for Directions

My younger sister has taken on a boarder named Edward, almost 20 years old, whom I met a few days ago, and had the opportunity to hear his story, which goes something like this: he and my nephew and a third boy had been best friends since grade school except the third boy was hit by a garbage truck on Congress Ave while riding his bike and was killed; my nephew witnessed a murder up close and personal; Edward was walking on Lamar and was struck by a hit and run driver, suffering severe head trauma. The head trauma was followed by followed by migraines, hallucinations, then a diagnosis of schizophrenia, hospitalizations, all this while grappling with the fear of being gay and finding no peer or parental support. A rough time. He's now stabilized and is searching for work, so I hired him for the day to wash windows and do some yard work. I was definitely playing the role of the Big Brother Mentor sort of thing that I'm not particularly familiar with, so I just played it by ear and did my best and I think it went quite well. I listened, I answered questions and gave feedback when prompted, and worked alongside him for many hours. We got a lot accomplished. There has been a slight escalation in my interactions with younger folks of late, and I feel especially responsible to set as best an example as I can and dispense the best advice I can when asked to do so. In the end, we make our own decisions and choose our paths, but I do think that every little interaction along the way can have sway over us, positive and negative, significant or trivial. Life swirls and spins, cycles and recycles all around us, throughout our worlds and the planet as a whole. Pretty fascinating. I find that everyone, no matter their age or circumstance, no matter their journey or history, deep inside longs for love and acceptance. We want our experiences to be meaningful and nourishing and we want to feel loved. We want to be heard and acknowledged. We want confirmation of our innate goodness. Sometimes these deep longings are left impoverished and starving. We want answers to the profound questions of life. The answers may be right in front of us but we haven't yet learned to see them. We want a guiding hand to reach out to us in our moments of darkness and pull us back into some kind of light. Sometimes the guiding hand leads us deeper into darkness. I know that Edward will go and buy drugs with the money he earned, but he assures me he will only play with the natural ones, as if that offers up some sort of organic consolation. Many times I had to say no thank you, I do not want to have a mushroom or hemp experience, I don't want to heighten my awareness in that way. Yet I felt I didn't have the right to judge or criticize. Oh what a world. Just some morning musings.

The Never Ending Removal of Obstacles

I woke up at 4 this morning with remnants of a vivid dream swirling into the groggy transition of mind from dream state to consciousness, compelling me to reach for pen and paper, capturing with words those vivid and strange images that are the composition of a dream, all the while noticing the unfolding connections of the dream to the events of the day before. Yesterday was seemingly unique, perhaps because I was more awake and aware. In some ways the first half of the day turned out to be a parallel of the afternoon that was to come. On the way to Mark's 10 a.m. class at Castle, a light at Lamar turned red with my car first in the queue, which gave me the opportunity to have a conversation with a homeless guy and his dog. The story is vague, but went something like this: he jumped through a large pane of glass after being awakened by a dog, maybe the building was on fire, and after flying through the glass the dog followed him and landed in his arms. He spent 2 months in Brackenridge Hospital, near death, and kept the adopted dog with him the whole time, despite protests. The dog had saved his life by getting them both out of the building, and the doctors took over, suturing the deep, life threatening lacerations to his chest and face.

I arrived at class to learn that Gioconda was subbing for Mark. It was a good class and I'm always enriched by my beautiful "little sister's" presence, wisdom, and inspired teaching. The class was a challenge, my body temperature rising and sweat pouring off me. I needed to take several rests, nothing unusual in this. Sometimes these windowless studios that have just experienced a previous class seem stifling and devoid of fresh air to me. After doing a series of handstands and pinchas, followed by several urdhva dhanurasanas, my heart was beating furiously in my chest, yet my breath remained slow and calm. There was a sweet deliciousness in these moments of feeling my heart pounding so hard and fast, yet no feeling whatsoever of needing to breathe deeper, fuller, or faster. No sense of approaching panic. I remember thinking that because the asana is such a powerful heart opener, maybe a divine dose of prana had entered my body. I slowed my breath even more and it was even more delicious and unfamiliar.

I stopped at the car wash and the wait was long and they told me Jeff, my massage therapist, would be there in 45 minutes, long after I'd be gone. I left him the card Changing the World One Om at a Time with a note saying I hoped to see him there, got home around 1:30, just in time for lunch, a few household chores, a brief rest, then I headed out to another class. In this class I was aware of the breathing of others, which is always such a nice experience--the deep connected feeling of community in practice so often sensed and felt by the sharing of breath. I'm drawn to a new guy who struggles mightily with the asanas, and makes all sorts of moans and grunts with his voice and breath. He is a beginner and I relish watching his growth. The instructor announced "no grunting in class". I noticed that when he left class he appeared crestfallen. The theme of the earlier class was mudita, and I wanted to stay with that practice, so I emailed him and told him I admired how regularly he had been in showing up to practice, showing up on the mat, and how he was doing exactly what he needed to do, that he was exactly where he needed to be, and that with consistent practice he would notice shifts and transformations. In some ways I think beginners benefit the most from positive experience in class so as to keep them on the yogic path, if that's the journey for them.

As I was filling the car up with gas I was approached by a young man with his dog, reminding me of my experience earlier in the day with the other homeless guy and his dog. This guy was down on his luck, and yet this dog that he had rescued from an abusive life revealed to me, as earlier, that his owner was treating him well, feeding him well, and the bond between them was tight and bright. The calm and sweet nature of these faithful dogs reminded me of when animals come to our rescue and provide us with a much needed dose of empathy, a breath of freshness and companionship when we might otherwise feel alone in the world. This young man was living in a seedy hotel for which he was paying $190 a week. At such times I want to shake my fist at the unjust world, but must find refuge in knowing this is simply the way it is in the world, and far, far worse at any given moment with countless living creatures all over this mysterious planet. These encounters stir up a desire to save and rescue, which I cannot do. But listening, hearing their stories, caring, seeing their light, giving a few dollars here and there is good for me, and hopefully good for them. A few moments to stand and breathe with another may not be saving the world, but who's to know the outcome of sharing one breath, one om at a time with others?

When we sincerely rejoice and share in the joyous success of others, without expectation, we open ourselves up to receiving the same in return; likewise, when we are experiencing joy and success in our own lives, and when we listen and care and feel compassion for others, when we share our hopes for the betterment of the world, one moment at a time, perhaps we can make some positive difference.

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The dream centered around my younger biological sister. Although her journey through life is radically different from my *adopted sister/teacher/mentor*, they share similar characteristics unique to those from the "red hair" gene pool--intensely passionate, fiercely independent. In the dream I was travelling in a very crowded bus where everyone was sitting on the floor on yoga mats in rows of four, and one woman wouldn't allow me to get off at my destination. Other women intervened and prevailed. Indicative of the powerful ebb and flow of feminine energy I've experienced of late. My task was to deliver the name of the color of paint being used to paint her (my sister's) house and the nearby ceiling of an open aired lobby. It was an extraordinarily rich and beautiful red, earthy red, adobe red, vibrant and alive, again representing the power of raw energy, aggression, profoundly deep spiritual and emotional characteristics. But this red had a softness to it, toned down, calm, soothing. The painter was conveying the name of the paint to me in foreign coinage and bills, which were spilling out on to the ground when a homeless man grabbed a handful and ran away with the money. I chased him and got it back, then chose to give him some of my own will, clearly representative of our free will, our freedom of choice, and how the decisions we make in our life can have profound consequences. When I arrived, in the dream, at my sister's house, she wasn't there, but I was instead greeted by a pleasant woman who was supposed to be her mother-in-law. Resolution of conflicts with good outcomes. The mythical symbol of conflict and interference transformed into harmony. The guilt and alienated (foreign) feeling I often have when I witness others with so little currency, but learning to come to terms with that seemingly unfair state of affairs.

Cats, Candles/Agapanthus, Aloe Vera

The last two days have been devoted to yard work and I'm tired of it. I ache. Aging is for the birds. I lit candles tonight, put a favorite oil into a diffuser, drew a hot bubble bath, put on some beautiful, meditative music and soaked in Lavendar Chamomile with extracts of marigold, chamomile, soy, lemon grass, aloe vera, and vitamin E. Organic of course :-). Throughout the work day each time I came into the house I found my cats affectionately coiled up in my chair, on my towel. Sweet creatures. We hired a guy to help us, thinking maybe 5 hours today, 5 more tomorrow. He was young and did everything we wanted him to do in 1.5 hours! We forget that we move slowly. It was nice having a young strong worker to help us. We are simplifying our yard, moving more into a Zen direction with lots of gravel and far fewer plants, for the purpose of having less maintenance. Besides, I'm tired of everything we plant growing so fast and aggressively that in no time at all the landscape feels like a jungle. It's too much. I separated the agapantha clumps and replanted 6 small plants, tossing all the rest in the burn pile. The same with the planter of aloe vera plants, most went into the burn pile while 3 youngsters got replanted in the wooden flower box by the garage. It's a healing plant but the thorns can be nasty.

It's not easy going for 2 full days without doing yoga, I miss it. Dale is moving slower and slower with each passing day and yard work is becoming too much for him, even though he loves getting out and puttering around in the yard.

Time for bed. I've been leaving my roller shades fully open at night. It welcomes the night into the room, and allows the cats to peer out at all the nocturnal critters. Spring is here and the days are growing longer. I had lunch with Jeff and we both agreed this is one of our favorite times of the year. It's been fun catching up with friends for lunch and making it to more men's yoga classes.

Folks that are Dear

This is my third blog attempt this morning. My mind isn't wildly out of control (I don't think), but it seems to be searching for just the right words, for the opening through which my thoughts can flow unimpeded. Have you (comments welcome) ever had a positive, meaningful, connected interaction with someone whereby when it was over and you were moving away you felt part of that person was still with you? Furthermore, the part of that person still with you took on the form of an animal? Something like the residual energy of that person was still contained in your energy field but in a mythical, symbolic way. Is this just utterly ridiculous? Is it simple projection? Is the mind/spirit on a deeper level connecting with something primordial? In a certain way it's like wakeful dreaming, and our thoughts take on *unfamiliar* forms that are not immediately accessible and clear.

Example: I dreamt the other night that I was in the company of a very angry woman. I think my mind was expressing a need to release something that I was refusing to acknowledge on a conscious level, something that I was suppressing, to do with anger, with anger towards the feminine aspects (of myself), or the life and people around me. Aha, now that makes sense. Because truly in real life I was pissed off at someone but I absolutely could find no way to constructively express or release that anger. In fact the anger was misplaced, and actually expressing the anger towards that person would have been totally inappropriate because that anger had nothing to do with that person, but everything to do with me. So the anger came out in my dream, through my subconscious mind, and found expression and release that way. When we don't act out, when we sit with stuff, it can be amazing how certain issues find resolution on their own, without our own conscious intervention and meddling. Besides, hell has no wrath like a Goddess scorned. Never underestimate the power of the Goddess.

After practice the other day I had lunch with a group of guys, five of us in all. It was quite an enjoyable get together, and the conversation flowed freely, moving from one topic to another in a somewhat stream of consciousness sort of way. In retrospect, I realize that I didn't have a clue what was being said half the time. Really, it was gibberish to me. So I just honed in on that which I could understand, listened and responded. Nothing unusual in any of this. But when you do find someone you feel deeply connected to, it's downright rich, and often transcends words and simply being in the presence of that person leaves one feeling sated.

Deer. Such majestic creatures whose bodies move seemingly without effort, gracefully defying the laws of gravity. Powerful yet vulnerable, feminine yet virile, swift with fleetness of foot yet unable to discern their primary enemy in the urban jungle (the SUV, the automobile). "The deer depicts meditation, meekness, and gentleness but also signifies love-sickness, solitariness and melancholy, when associated with the maple (in the Chinese tradition). In the Celtic tradition they are messengers of the divine, supernatural animals of the fairy world, fairy cattle. Deerskin and antlers are ritual vestments."

Personally, I have lived in the company of deer for the past 30 years, feeding them, observing their social hierarchy, matriarchal led herds of does and only young bucks who are kicked out as they approach young adulthood. It is sad to see the young buck literally being kicked and hoofed by his mother, aunts and sisters. He must leave and live alone, at times running with other males. I struggled mightily with the decision to ban them from our property a few years back, but decided that since they were eating our garden and all our deer-proof plants, especially in times of drought, it was the only thing to do, hence the 7 1/2 foot fence. Now when I gaze out I see the landscape devoid of deer, and find something lamentable about that, and so I lament as I inhale and exhale the reality of injustice.

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I just read in a newsletter put out by Spirit Journeys, the following, which I thought apropos:

"There is much fear swirling all around us these days. Let your Inner Warrior stand fast in the knowledge that fear is an untruth spoken by those hiding in the Shadows or living in the Dark; only Love is real and stands openly in the Light."

Still, it's a great time to be alive.

Spirit Energy Flowing, Taking Notice

How often it is that I have to remember to just slow down, stop and pay attention to life as it unfolds. I felt drawn to a young man who is a licensed masseur when he asked me at the car wash if I wanted a chair massage. I said no, then something compelled me to say yes. His hands were healing and therapeutic. His spirit bright and energizing. I ended up taking his card and have had several deep tissue massage sessions with him. Yesterday after my first sports massage with him, we were sitting at his kitchen table eating tangerines, discovering those threads of connection and trust, moving into those first moments when you feel so at ease and bonded with someone new. He began sharing and telling me about the path he was following, the path of his heart, a path deeply connected to nature, and how it was leading him (and his girlfriend) down a very fulfilling and rewarding road, that doorways to discovery were happening for him, he was learning what touched him and made him feel in tune, and what made him feel free from dis-ease. Suddenly a door to the bedroom opened, and I looked to see his girlfriend walk through, but she didn't. A moment of complete silence. Apparently the wind very gently and noiselessly blew open the door just a few feet away. It was kind of eerie. It was kind of magical. Nothing superstitious, just one of those little moments where you feel that nature is answering back to you, confirming what you've just said. Good energy flowing. The cast of illumination.

I'm driving a friend to Kerrville this morning to visit his father who's in the hospital there. He's 83 years old and was in a pretty bad car wreck in which his car was totalled and he had to be pulled from the wreckage. For unknown reasons, an ambulance wasn't called, so he was not examined by doctors or paramedics, the cops simply drove him home after the accident. After arriving home he called his insurance company, and while on the phone he collapsed and fell to the floor, shattering his hip. So now he is confined, for at least 6 weeks, to a rehab center, unable to walk. The doctor has told him his fall had nothing to do with the car accident, which pretty much cancels out any compensation from the other driver's insurance.

Something strangely unpleasant and unusual is going on in my lower intestines this morning. Yesterday I dug up the crowded clumps of Irises in the Zen garden and separated the bulbs and replanted the new growths and discarded the old and rotting portions of the shallow underground root/bulb system that really should be done every 2 to 3 years. I love the feel and smell of earth, digging into the soil with bare hands. A google search answered my questions about Iris bulbs, and also said that the old, rotting bulbs should not be placed in the compost pile. When I snagged a fingernail whilst digging I automatically brought it to my mouth and immediately realized I probably should not have done that. There must be some chemical in the bulbs that is toxic, I don't know. Maybe that's why my lower belly is growling and misbehaving this morning. Another message from Mother Nature? Vata out of balance?

I received a very nice email from my massage therapist in which he asked if he could possibly practice some newly learned light energy healing on me. Of course I said yes, then read a little about energy healing in the Shamanic traditions. I was immediately struck by the word luminosity, and balanced chakras. After my sports massage J mentioned that the techniques he employed were motions that moved the blood back towards the heart, and also released many toxins.

I was reading from a blog I follow in which the blogger posted a quote from Jack Kornfield's "A Path With Heart". It was a quote I had underlined and put an asterisk by in my copy of the book. It struck me as very relevant to recent experiences. Page 158, first paragraph, begins "Initially, in our enthusiasm for our practice, we tend to take everything we hear or read as the gospel truth. This attitude often becomes even stronger when we join a community, follow a teacher, undertake a discipline. Yet all of the teachings of books, maps, and beliefs have little to do with wisdom or compassion. At best they are a signpost, a finger pointing at the moon, or the leftover dialogue from a time when someone received some true spiritual nourishment. To make spiritual practice come alive, we must discover within ourselves our own way to become conscious, to live a life of the spirit."

All the little connections can leave the mind reeling. Maybe that's why it's best to try and tell the mind to just leave things alone, and slow down, stop, and just pay attention with the heart.