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.