Sketchy Writings of Summers Past and Present

Journaling is therapeutic, whether we sit and write our thoughts on a blog or keep a notebook hidden away for no one to see. It's a way of processing our thoughts and emotions and allowing them to flow through us. When writing, we can use our non-dominant hand, let the words flow out in a stream of consciousness style, we can even make squiggles while we wait for thoughts to form themselves into words (which they may not do). In a way, our nightly dreams are our personal journals of our daily journey. While we rest our bodies, our minds stay very busy, exploding with chemical reactions and the electrical firing of countless neurons. We seek to understand the complexities of everyday life on many levels. It is in our nature to know our ourselves and our world.

I was sitting at the local AT and T franchise store awaiting my turn in line when an elderly lady came rushing into the store in a state of great frustration and breathlessness. "I hate this phone," she said, with a deep Southern accent, looking directly at me. "It's given me nothing but problems. I don't want all this high tech stuff, I just want a phone to be a phone, and I want it to work." I told her I understood. "You know Obama is not Black," she said to me, out of the blue. "People who voted for him just because he was Black, with the thought that he would end racism, were misguided," she said. I immediately retorted that I disagreed with her, and asked if she was of the idea that he wasn't a USA citizen. "Of course he's a citizen," she replied, "he was born in Hawaii. But his father was from Kenya, and was a Muslim, not a Black. His father was an Arab." She apparently had this fixed idea that all Muslims were Arabs, and Arabs were not Black. I explained to her that many peoples in Africa, who were Black, were Muslims, just as many white people were also Muslims. And so began a long discussion on a variety of topics ranging from cell phones to her childhood in Mississippi, her black nanny who wasn't allowed to eat at the table with the family to her own maid that helped raise her children. "It was all wrong," she said, "the way we treated them. But, it was all we knew." Sometimes what we learn to be right is very wrong. It's helps to ask ourselves: do our actions harms others? I had recently finishing reading The Help, a great book that I recommended she read. I understand a movie based on the book will be released in a few days.

In a recent dramatization of an Agatha Christie story set in a Middle Eastern country, a Englishwoman waiting to board a boat was traumatized when she suddenly found herself watching a local woman being stoned to death by a mob composed of community and family members, mostly male.  "It is best to not interfere with local customs," Hercule told her. In other words, look away and ignore. I practice regularly with a young Iranian woman. She fussed at me for mentioning a movie I'd recently seen that was a docudrama  about the stoning to death of a woman in Iran. It doesn't happen, she informed me, and they made that movie many years after the documented event. The next day there was news of a stoning in an Iranian village.   Atrocities abound in our world. 

Much of the world's cardamom comes from Guatemala. I like to grind the pods to flavor my coffee--it enhances the taste very nicely and has health benefits to boot. Yesterday when I lifted the top of the Rubbermaid box by the gate to retrieve a much awaited package of soaps, teas, and cardamom pods, a big red wasp glared back at me menacingly from his nest as he hung upside down and sideways from the bottom of the lid I held in my hand. I could tell he was ready to attack if necessary. Gingerly, I lowered the lid and warned my partner of the nest; like so many others, he's highly allergic to wasp and bee stings and can go into anaphylactic shock.

One morning I went to Devon's 7:30 a.m. Iyengar class at Clear Spring Studio, which I thoroughly enjoyed--I love hip and groin openers and hamstring stretching which we found in variations of supta padangustasana, which was also taught that same morning by Anne (subbing for Christina) and Clayton. Funny how often that happens. I love early morning. Anyway, before leaving the studio I reached into a wall mounted mail box of printed schedules and instantly felt an intense burning pain in my middle finger. I quickly pulled away and caught sight of a big red wasp staring back at me as she stood guard of her nest that hung from the metal lid. Deja vu but this time I realized the power such seemingly small insects can yield. In an airing of Life, narrated by Oprah, the world of insects (and mammals and reptiles) informs us that there are more insects on the planet than mammals, birds, reptiles and fish combined. They have evolved and adapted unique survival attributes. Pretty amazing stuff. They can quickly put us in our place. They can easily command respect. Scorpions suddenly appear walking across our tile floors at home, often attracting the attention of the cats, who seem to know instinctively to protect their tender noses. I stepped on a scorpion the other day and cannot recall ever having felt such intense pain from an insect. My tongue was numb the rest of the day. My partner had a scorpion on his pillow the other night and it stung him on his hand. Carpenter ants march in and out of the ac copper coil outside my bedroom, and the movement in the nest in the wall can be heard as I sit at my desk. Cicadas sing so loudly at night it's almost deafening. Long lines of ants form along the rafters as they take their share of sugar water from the hummingbird feeder.

I have truly been disappointed in myself at the way I have handled my reactions to events surrounding a current project, as well as my reactions to some of the people I've had to work with. Instead of being understanding and compassionate at the errors of others, I've been angry and judgmental. I find my mind caught up in the drama, making the drama, living the drama, lost to detachment and empathy. My emotional reactions beg to be processed and dealt with before I can move forward. I know in my heart that these are doors of opportunity knocking, and I can ignore them or walk through and learn about truth. My mind says, but I've had enough knocks for a while!

I chatted briefly with Mandy last summer about injuries, and how they help open us up to so many things, and how they can help us deepen within ourselves, deepen our practice.  No wonder I keep injuring myself! Christina Sell wrote in her blog today:

"...staying close to our own goodness, radically affirming the presence of Grace no matter what is happening and living our authentic truth in a community of others who are doing the same."...

This really struck a chord with me as does so much of what she writes. It resonates loud and clear like a hammer hitting the sky, permeating the heavens and ringing like John Henry's hammer on cold steel. Is it going to be the death of me or will I rise up and be transformed, even in some minuscule way? Will I walk on in self-pity or genuine humbleness at the astonishing forces at work in our lives? Many of us have to both live and work outside the "community of others who are doing the same," and this can be quite a challenge. Along comes struggle and it feels like drowning, when in reality if we just breathe in the sweet, cool water, relax into the moment, we are offered the blessing of death to old ways and birth to new ways. It is in this that time and time again, I drown.

Gioconda writes:
"In daily life we see people who are happier than we are, people who are less happy. Some might be doing praiseworthy things and others causing problems. Whatever may be our usual attitude toward such people and their actions, if we can be pleased with others who are happier than ourselves, compassionate toward those who are unhappy, joyful with those doing praiseworthy things, and remain undisturbed by the errors of others, our mind will be very tranquil." TKV Desikachar's interpretation of Yoga Sutra 1:33

This too rings with truth. My mind has not been tranquil because I have not remained undisturbed by the errors of others. So I need to do a lot of work, and be grateful for all the time I'm afforded to be around people in the yoga community, and learn to also be grateful for the lessons to be learned from others who challenge us to seek that inner tranquility that comes when we practice a sense of empathetic detachment.

This is the hottest and driest summer on record, but I do prefer the heat to the cold. Dale and I have been taking long walks down the road in the early evenings. I pulled my gracilis muscle a couple of months ago and just finished several weeks of physical therapy. It was suggested that I needed some strength training to avoid future injuries in my yoga practice, so I joined a local gym and am working with a personal trainer. I need to balance strength with flexibility.   Jeff W. recommended a massage therapist to me, Paul F., and I've been seeing him now for a little while, and he is one of the best I've ever worked with. 

Again this summer I find myself involved in a project, this time with my partner and his family, and suddenly finding myself dealing with a person who challenges me on so many levels. It really hurts to have false accusations thrown our way, and I have had to simply give up explaining the details of how a particular contract works to someone who's emotional issues come to the forefront of all objectivity and throws a wrench into the whole business. There is a certain blindness going on, an attachment to something that keeps one totally in one's comfort zone, a choice is made to reside out of the realm of facts and reality, but to stay in that place of unreality for fear that the admission of a mistake will cause all the walls of self worth to come crumbling down--the crumbling of such walls of delusion can be very difficult, but it is a rich experience that can bring one deeper into an understanding of oneself. And so I recall how we--especially me--must learn to find a balance within ourselves when we are confronted with the errors of others, when we are confronted with false accusations and attacks on our intentions and integrity. It's important to stay open to the feelings so they can move through us and not get stuck within us by our own repression of them. I find myself extremely angry, and subsequent to that, a tenderness arises in which I see that the errors we all make are often the result of a life unexamined, emotions that remain repressed and unprocessed. Stephen Cope writes in his book Yoga and the Quest for the True Self about the suffering that comes about as we reside in our false self. We are asked to move from the unreal into the real, which can be quite a difficult task. He refers to this as the reality project, in which we move out of the false, delusional self into the real, authentic self. The twin pillars of this reality project is clear seeing and calm abiding. I highly recommend this book.

We watched as a baby raccoon was abandoned (hopefully temporarily) by his mother. He could barely walk. I made sure he had plenty of water. It is sad to see how the heat and drought will cause so many animals to not survive. There is a famine going on in Africa right now that I believe is the worst in recorded history with tens of thousands of children dying from starvation.  

Green Doors

I was browsing the Internet when I came across a blog titled Toning the Om:
http://toningtheom.com/, and as I read on there was an mp3 download to a talk given recently by Marianne Williamson.  I downloaded it and have listened to it at least 4 times now.  I find it quite inspiring and although I've heard of Marianne Williamson (click on her name for a download of her talk) I am not familiar with her work, but hope to be soon.  I went back to this blog and noticed that the author had recently returned from a trip to Egypt, and she began thanking her fellow travelers on this trip that was so special to her.  It all sounded vaguely familiar, so I contacted her and sure enough, she had traveled with Spirit Journeys, a unique and spiritually-orientated travel "agency" that puts together trips and workshops relating to yoga, shamanism, spirituality, self-discovery, and so on, and they have many workshops and travel leaders who range from psychologists to shamans to social workers and more.  I have a link to this wonderful group on my blog.  I went with them to Bali as well as their men's retreat at Bodhi Zen Center in New Mexico a few years back.  Highly recommended.

Then I discovered Stephen Cope.  Peggy Kelly (see her new blog Physical Poetry: Ayurveda and Iyengar Yoga) told me I would really like him and she was right, I am so inspired listening to him speak. I downloaded one of his talks from iTunes titled Yoga for Emotional Flow, Free Your Emotions through Yoga Breathing, Body Awareness and Energetic Release.  Absolutely fantastic.   He has a book that is highly recommended:  Yoga and the Quest for the True Self.  It is on order.  On the day that Peggy told me about this author, a friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in quite a while showed up to class, which was unusual as he lives out of town.  He had studied with Stephen Cope years ago at Kripalu.  Anyway, we got together for lunch as he wanted to share a recent event in his life that he described as traumatic.  So I listened.  I was shocked.  I don't want to go into details, but he was arrested and thrown in jail for 36 hours before being released on bail.  What happened to him should not happen in this day and age.  It has had a profoundly negative effect on his life, and I hope justice prevails for him.  We never know what life is suddenly going to throw at us, and it can all happen in a split second and our world as we know it has been dramatically changed. 

I joined Angie's list to find a local plumber to help find an elusive leak associated with the outdoor shower.  In this process, I got an email for whole house window cleaning, inside and out, at a discounted price.  I've never had this done before, so I got an estimate and they are due to arrive at 7:30 a.m. this morning.  Which brings to mind a dream I had last night.  A green door belonging to someone had been removed from its hinges.  First of all let me say that green is the color of the heart chakra, and doors represent openings (as well as closings).  The door had a small window located at eye level.  For some reason the window was covered with plastic, so it was our task to remove all this plastic, and then put the door back on its hinges--rehang it.  To me the door represents the heart, and the importance of allowing our hearts to be open, but perhaps not open in such a way that we can be easily abused or taken advantage of.  But we need to be able to see clearly through our hearts, and not have a film over it that totally blurs our view, or clouds our judgment, as we look out at the landscape of life through the window of the heart.    We need to be able to choose when to open our hearts to love and when to close our hearts to those who mean to harm us, as opposed to having our doors off their hinges completely.  I think this addresses the issues of boundaries and unmindful vulnerability.  Stephen Cope tells us that we must never deny or repress our feelings, but we must let them flow through us.  When we exile a powerful emotion that may be too painful to experience, it will eventually come back at us in one way or another.  It may manifest itself in our body, reappear as a dark shadow/demon, or seek expression through drugs or alcohol.  Until we truly feel the emotion and let it move through us, it will not leave us alone.  This resonates with me. 

I have been having intense pain in the tissue on the left side of my right knee which I feel when doing ardha chandrasana or trikonasana.  It burns and stings intensely and is quite scary.  Peggy tells me that when we have such pain, we should look both above and below the area, in other words the hip area and the ankle/foot area.  Devon confirms this.  Bekir tells me to focus the outward spiral through the femur bone, and not through the knee.  During sitting mediation I noticed (not for the first time) a tightness, a blockage, a particular spot in my right hip crease that stands out loudly in the forefront of all physical sensations.  Focusing on that spot, breathing into to, listening to it, naming it was my task at hand.  After staying with this for maybe ten minutes, I suddenly felt my leg "let go" and the tightness disappeared completely.  I don't think, of course, that this is the end of it, but rather the beginning.  But finding the beginning of something is essential in moving forward in it.

Civic Duty, Family Duty, Silent Witness, a Baby Opossum

I was summoned to jury duty yesterday afternoon.  I was actually hoping to be picked as I've always enjoyed serving on a jury.  The room was packed with prospective jurors, only six to be chosen from the lot.  It was going to be a short civil suit having to do with credit card debt collection.  The lawyer had thick gray hair and reminded me of Raymond Burr in his later productions of Perry Mason--a nice looking man but carrying around an enormous amount of excessive weight.  He asked each prospective juror, one by one, a series of questions relating to credit card use, trying to ascertain one's position regarding the collection of such debt.  So, I was really taken aback when my turn came and his first question was, "Mr. Hicks, is that a purse you are carrying?"  "No," I replied, "it's a backpack."  "Oh, I see," he said, "please forgive me if I insulted you."  I immediately responded by saying "I do find that remark to be quite offensive."  Again, he apologised.  He moved on to his next question, "Mr. Hicks, are you an athlete?"  "I am an avid yoga practitioner," I said, noticing that several people turned around in their chairs to have a look at me.  My palms were beginning to sweat, but I sat up straight and turned on my assertive self.  "My wife does yoga" he said, "well, she used to.  Always trying to get me to join her, but I never did."  "Well," I said, "I think you would benefit tremendously from it."  Okay, here I was jabbing back at him, doing the same thing he had just done to me, something I do not believe in doing.  Impulsive retaliation.  Take me to that place of non-reactive calm, I said to my Silent Witness.  I need your help at this moment.  The rest of the conversation was pleasant, and he said I would be an excellent juror for this case.  (I did not get chosen).

I made my first trip to Europe when I was 23 years old.  I was fascinated at how many men carried these neat hand held, zippered "wallets".  Many have loops that you can put your hand into and let them dangle from your wrist.  I bought one and have carried one ever since, replacing them every few years.  In recent years I've thrown it all into an ergonomic shoulder bag sold at Relax the Back and other places, but I often just pull out my hand held man-purse and just carry it alone (wallet, checkbook, cell phone, pen, comb, fingernail file, iPod touch).  I have only had one person make a negative remark about this in 36 years and it was a friend of a friend struggling with accepting his own homosexuality.  There are studies that show that some men who suffer from lower back pain can alleviate the pain dramatically by not carrying their wallets in their back pockets.  Definitely not a skillful way to sit.

I watched the tiniest baby opossum moving toward the fountain in the backyard yesterday.  Somehow he barely managed to climb up the side, but when it came to drinking the water, it was so far below the ledge he was on that he spent several minutes exploring his options.  He finally decided to go for it, and eased himself down towards the water, finally able to drink by clinging to the top ledge with his hind legs, and drink he did.  It is so hot and dry and I cannot remember having so many dry windy days.  Then he fell into the water, way too deep for him to stand up in, and I watched as he helplessly tried to climb out, his paws slipping on the Mexican tiles.  I knew he would never make it out so I rushed out and scooped him out and placed him on the ground.  He was so tiny and skinny, I wonder if he will survive.  Where is his mother?  It has been a busy week for me, and I've spent very little time staring out the window on to the landscape of the backyard, and I marvel at the fact that I was watching at that very moment.  I do think nature talks to us.  We have a hummingbird feeder hanging from the eaves in front of the kitchen window.  It has to be refilled every 3 days, at least.  Earlier this morning as I was sitting here at my desk,  a hummingbird came to my bedroom window, hovered for more than a few moments, then left.  I checked the hummingbird feeder and it was empty. 

I had my third colonoscopy in 15 years this week and will find out the results of the four polyps the doctor removed.  This is an extremely important procedure for anyone who has any family history of colon cancer. 

It has been several years since I've worked with an Oil and Gas Company representative, negotiated the terms of a lease, and gone through that whole process of proofreading a detailed 50 page legal document at least twice.  There have been a flurry of emails and phone calls and dealing with family members.  I always end up with hurt feelings, but that's just me.  Things went smoother and faster than they ever have in past years--from beginning to end it all happened within the span of about 3 weeks, and not the many months of protracted engagement of pitting one company against the other in an effort to secure the largest possible bonus lease consideration.  I am happy the process is over, and now it's just wait and see if they drill, and if so will it be the usual dry hole, a marginal producer, or maybe something different.  Perhaps a little bird will tell me.   

 

South India

I recently returned from South India, traveling around Kerala and Tamilnadu in a Toyota van with Dileep, our driver, and my longtime companion who turned 80 on the trip. Before meeting with Dileep and beginning our journey, we checked into Kairali Ayurvedic Health Resort and experienced 7 days of Panchakarma treatments. Dr. Rajeev gave a pretty thorough exam, wrote up an evaluation and prescription of treatments including a daily organic vegetarian diet, a continuation of Trifala and Chyawanprash and he added Abhayaristha 30 ml twice daily, plus lots of drinking water which was a special concoction of warm water steeped in a variety of herbs and spices with a peppery taste. Each day began with an hour of yoga practice followed by a one hour treatment in the morning (each treatment took place on a Droni table and involved 2 therapists) then breakfast, free time (walking, swimming, more yoga, cycling around the countryside, lots of rest), then lunch followed by rest or activity, an afternoon treatment, a short period of time before meditation, a late dinner and then to bed. The place was absolutely magical. The treatments varied daily and included Abhyangam (general massage), Sirodhara (nonstop stream of medicated oil, herbal concoction, milk or other materials), Elakizhi (herbal poultices, whole body massage), Pizhichil (whole body and head prescribed oil massage with continuous slow and light hand pressure), Navarakizhi (whole body massage with small linen bags filled with cooked Navara rice cooked in cow's milk and mixed with herbs and oils), Nasyam (after certain processes, exact doses of oils are poured into the nostrils as the patient inhales deeply), Netradhara (eye therapy with medicated oils), and much more. Most therapies were followed by time in a hot steam box followed by an exfoliating shower, then a brief meeting with the doctor and his assistant over hot tea. Weight, blood pressure and various measurements were taken, feedback solicited, modifications made. For example, because I'm one of the lucky few who have no allergies, the administration of medicated oil into the nostrils was only done once, and because the doctor didn't like the way my eyes got all red and bloodshot after having cups and cups of oil poured over them (try keeping your eyes open for that!), he suspended that treatment. I was never sure what was coming next which added to the deliciousness of it all. Learning to totally relax while your therapist administers an enema, or pounds your body with bags of cooked rice, or suddenly finding yourself being soaked in buttermilk can be challenging, but I loved the experience. Many people return often. One of my favorite friends was a woman from Trinidad who had worked in many countries, including Kenya and Tanzania, with abused and dis-empowered women (including the horrific forced practice of "circumcision" which is really a brutal mutilation of the female genitalia), and is currently based in NYC and has been with the United Nations for many years. For her, the treatments were all about down time and destressing from a high pressure job as well as weight reduction. Another friend was the 25 year old son of a businessman who needed to see some maturity in his only son (and weight reduction). People from all over would suddenly appear for brief treatments, some to just relax, some after pilgrimages or ashram stays in the North. For me, 7 days was plenty, but 14 or 28 days are most recommended, but not many people can do this.

One day I was walking on the road towards the village when a small, crippled dog suddenly appeared underfoot and caused me to nearly fall. He was so sweet and determined to be petted. I later learned that a woman from Germany who was staying at the resort after hip replacement and multiple bypass surgery and who had a habit of cycling throughout the countryside despite doctors order to the contrary, had found a little dog that had been crushed by a car and lay dying in the road. She insisited that Dr. Rajeev, an Ayurvedic doctor and not a vet, come immediately to help her rescue the dog. I'm told she cried for days while holding the dog and nursing him back to health. There is a "canteen" across the street from the resort where employees gather before and after work, and this little crippled dog that demanded so much of my attention had been promised a lifetime of care by the employees of the resort.

On the day of our departure, there was significant protesting going on in Palakkad after a brutal attack in which one woman was killed (political stuff I'm told). Our driver made it through early, but our departure was waylaid until the crowds dispersed late in the day. And so began sixteen days of travel throughout South India, from Palakkad to Cochin, Munnar, Alleppey, Kumarakom, Periyar, Madurai, Trichy, Tanjore, Mahabalipuram (aka Mamallapuram) to Chennai.

Illusions

This morning I randomly opened a book to read: "Stay alert to the easy shift from the illusions of false expectations to the illusions of anger and fear that follow in their wake." It resonated. Recently our nearest neighbors have been partying and the noise just reaches out and grabs me and stirs something inside that gets me so riled up it is just ridiculous. My heart pounds, I get angry, I pace, I want to respond to the retaliatory impulse that swells up inside me by moving my stereo system outside and turning it on full blast. I want to scream at them to shut up. I find it hard to sleep, not because of the noise they are making (because I cannot hear it in my bedroom) but because of the noise I am making inside myself. It is really my own noise that is beckoning me to listen, to learn, to go inside. The illusion of the false expectation indeed shifts so very easily into the illusion of fear and anger. Of course it comes down to the deeper truth that I fear I am not worthy of love and that can express itself in sadness or anger. When I was a kid sometimes my parents would have loud arguments and fights, and it was so scary for me. I would be hypervigilant and stay up for hours listening mostly to the quiet, thinking I could spring into rescue mode the moment the fighting resumed. That impulse to stop the noise stays with me today although I can truly say that I no longer jump totally out of myself when I hear a loud noise. A teacher recently said that those of us who are most sensitive to outside noises tend to have a lot of noise going on inside ourselves. I think there is some truth in that. There is certainly nothing wrong in seeking peace and quiet, but to expect it to always be there may not be so realistic. Bayda writes: "Peace is found not through seeking peace, but through residing completely in what is."
There is a new yoga teacher in town that I really like. He teaches from the heart. He truly inspires me and helps lead me to that quiet place inside. He is an asset to the Austin Yoga community, a very warm welcome to Chris Muchow.

Platters of Nourishment

On the breakfast table in a house I lived in years ago was a large platter of food. It was mine. Two people I know--one a friend, one a family member--were voraciously eating from this platter. I grew so angry that I yelled and threw a cup against the wall, causing it to shatter and break into a thousand pieces. "This is MY food and I hate it when others eat from my plate," I screamed. Food can represent nourishment, both physical and spiritual, and we all must have nourishment. Sometimes I feel I am unable to grow when I perceive that others around me are depriving me of nourishment (which is of course transference/projection). We are each one of us responsible for providing ourselves with the nourishment we need to grow and enlarge ourselves in this life. We cannot do this completely alone. We do need times of silence, of being alone and still with ourselves so we can listen to what our Self is trying to tell us. But, is it not all the disruptions and interferences that cause us discomfort and suffering that lead us to the places we need to be in order to grow and learn? True, we cannot allow the behavior of others, over which we have no control, to disempower our determination to seek nourishment. We cannot blame others for our own failures to procure for ourselves what we need as we do not have the power to change anyone other than ourselves. So what is the message of the dream? We all need nourishment and often that nourishment is the same (something we all share), yet we cannot blame others when we do not get what we need, for it is up to each one of us to take from the plate of life that which we need to feed ourselves--this takes action. And, it is through the chaos and craziness of human behavior that we can see more clearly the path upon which our deeper self is guiding us to walk on. I often struggle with relationships. If someone does something we vehemently disagree with, what action, if any, do we take? Do we decide to distance ourselves from that person? Do we choose to look at that person's good qualities and accept the "bad" as simply part of their humanity? I always think the compassionate, loving viewpoint is the best route; however, it is good to remember that we can love someone from afar without constant interaction. We can disagree with their beliefs, philosophy, religion, orientation, etc, but do we condemn them just because they are different from us? I think not. What about all the things we have in common, both good and not so good? Hollison writes: "We do not learn and grow by all subscribing to the same school of thought, copying the same values, or voting the same way. We grow from the experience of our differences, although in insecure moments we quickly forget this. The capacity to include those differences, even incorporate them into an ever broader, more sophisticated range of choices, is the chief task, and gift, of evolving relationships."

Universal Mirrors

It seems I've been seeing my darker side quite a bit of late, reflected in the actions of people around me. It puts me into that place where I find myself trembling with fear, and once the anger aspect has dissipated, I feel a raw tenderness that leaves me so humbled and stripped of self that I begin to open to those moments of better seeing. Tears can refract the incoming light and break it up into a range of blinding colors. I am caught off guard when the intensity and depth of these reflections come in sudden waves. I wonder what I'm doing to elicit these blinding visions. I don't mean mystical visions, but rather the kind of seeing that pushes me towards that place of limitless learning, whether I like it or not. Life can be so profoundly sweet at times that I tend to just lay back on the cloud and float, and that's good stuff, for sure. But the cloud floating is not something I've learned to sustain. I heard someone say recently that when we realize that learning is limitless, new worlds open to us. Learning is work in progress, and the lessons put before us are opportunities. These opportunities can wear chaotic faces that are not easy to look at. I find it hard to suddenly discontinue the star gazing from the cloud and look towards those difficult and challenging realities, but that is the task at hand and while looking away may be a choice, it is not the choice that is usually best.