Getting Marooned Outside Our Inner Sanctums

This past weekend reminded me that I keep company with cats more often than with people; the sounds of windchimes, birdsong, and rustling leaves is far more prevalent in my little world than that of conversing humans. This weekend was an exception. It was martini night at Blu, certainly a first for me. Sweet and fruity martinis with an alluring, nectar like taste that can take one to the edge of drunkenness and dizziness lickety split. The key is small sips followed by long pauses. I was delighted to see an acquaintance tending bar there. Daryl and I had great fun--I like how we connect in so many ways. We all need these new infusions of special connectedness with one another, especially if, like me, they are relatively rare of late. The music was live and loud and begged for a sing-along. I Will Survive, I Put A Spell on You, because you're mine. And that's when the walls came crashing down around us. Sweet, beautiful and fragile, my acquaintance laughed and exuded such warmth as she served us drinks. Then she went off duty, and moments later returned with tears flowing down her face, and she was devastated, for the moment, her vulnerability violated. He had taken her bag away from her and refused to give it back. He was refusing to leave her alone. I've seen that kind of possessiveness, the kind that screams I Own You, and it's a bad scene. The police were called, and I can claim to know nothing more other than that which I observed. But I know all about abuse, particularly spousal abuse. I have seen how it can wreck lives, transform holy holidays into shattered pieces of brokenness. To the outsider, these things just burst forth into the moment and cause temporary shockwaves. For the victims, they can be long-term, hurting and festering day after day until suddenly they just burst open like a boil that spills forth its pus like an erupting volcano, and suddenly one is just burnt down to ash. I cannot judge. I don't know the many facets of this story. I don't know the whole of it. But, it is a theme that runs through many of our lives. Our pains come flying out of us and onto others--we strike out as often as we've been struck, until we learn, if ever we do, that it simply doesn't have to be this way. The cycle can be broken. And, as usual, I too feel sad and weep.

A couple of weekends ago I took my first intense vinyasa class in quite a while, and did it ever leave me feeling oh so sore. But I did two more this weekend and while the plan is to pretty much stay away from them, I did have great fun, especially when I let go of all attempts to push myself beyond what felt good. My physical therapist has "graduated" me! I have passed his tests and my shoulders are well into their healing. Just keep doing what you're doing, he advised, and let time do the rest. Thank you Steve at Star Physical Therapy, and thank you Iyengar Yoga and the wonderful, instructive teachers I've had the honor to work with, thanks to Erin and Mark at Austin Deep, a special thanks to Bekir, and to all those who have shared their healing knowledge with me and shown sincere concern.

It is fascinating to watch Blue Eyes the once feral cat being transformed before our very eyes. Daily, he changes. His aggression and fight or flight response is now replaced by yawns, stretches, lots of purring and oh so much curiosity. He gets lots of petting, but still, I must move gently and slowly and always be respectful of his boundaries, his fears--he will not hesitate to let me know his claws are far sharper than mine. Still, a quick dip of my fingers into his water bowl and a quick splash of water droplets flying off my fingers on to his face usually does the trick. He backs off, we both apologise, and begin again. I have yet to find a better way to win the hearts of others than simple kindness, compassion, love, and understanding. And a big dose of patience. Total non-violence. It works, just like Gandhi told us, and all the sages and seers before and after him. But, watch out for those wearing false robes of holiness, they can outwit us and before long we listen to them above and beyond our own inner wisdom. Keen discernment towards all that tends to shape and mould our lives is yet another of many mantras to help guide us along the way.

They are selling maroon-bonnets at HEB, maroon bluebonnets, that is. I don't know why this has left such an impression with me. When did someone come up with a maroon bonnet wildflower or have they always been with us? I've never seen one before, nor heard of one. I asked inside the store and was told "no, those are Indian paintbrushes." My reply was "no, they certainly are not." "Well, look at the label." So I did. Maroon bonnets, in little black containers alongside regular, old fashioned bluebonnets. Actually, I really like these little surprises.

A big white church invites me in. I stand outside. It is massive. Except for a vertical line of bas relief in rich colors and forms, it is simple architecture covered in a bright white stucco. It glows. Young plants ready to be potted sit in a window sill beside the door. I am called to go inside and pot these plants. We all need to go inside and tend to our inner gardens, nourish ourselves and be in that inner sanctum. Well, at least I do. Sometimes I linger so long outside that sacred space that it all but becomes lost to me, even though it's always there.

Blue Eyes the Feral Cat

Country living has its disadvantages, such as being the repository of unwanted pets, in particular, cats. Domestic cats that don't have loving homes and are left to fend on their own become wild creatures, often forming feral colonies where the females reproduce prodigiously, the males fight bloody battles and disease runs rampant. Life is very short and not so sweet. This is how I came to know Blue Eyes, a beautiful cross-eyed Siamese feral tom cat who began sleeping around the house, seeking cool spots in summer and places to be warm in winter. It's not easy integrating a feral cat into your home. I gave it a try and failed. I released him today with a prayer and a few tears. Now I find myself gazing out the window hoping to see him return. I tend to melt when he looks at me with those incredibly beautiful eyes of his, pleading for love and kindness, and more importantly, for something to eat; subsequently, I feel rejected when he runs away from me in fear. This has been going on for months, but slowly he has allowed me to be his friend. As humans, we often tend to think we know what's best for everyone else while we continue making our own mistakes and learning lifes' endless lessons. I took him to the vet and had him neutered, vaccinated against rabies, feline leukemia, dewormed, revolutionized (kills fleas and ticks), and most definitely he got traumatized. Then I brought him home and set up the sunroom to be his domain, his refuge, his place of healing, his prison. The vet regretfully informed me that Blue Eyes tested positive for FIV, the feline immunodeficiency virus, and gently recommended that he be put down. The animal rescue people believe he should live out his remaining years in isolation from all other cats, including other ferals. "Such placement can be quite difficult, but you might find a no kill shelter that has a room set aside for such infected cats." Certainly a reasonable alternative to releasing him back into the wild where he may very well continue to infect other cats. In the US, it is estimated that between 1.5% and up to 4% of the cat population is infected with this virus. Worldwide the infection rate is estimated to be around 44% of all cats. Euthanasia of such infected cats is a way of bringing the infection rate down, of reducing the population of infected cats. Like the HIV virus, it is spread through the transference of body fluids, often through blood fights between tom cats who exceed females in their rates of infection. It can be passed on from mother to kittens, but not always. Much is unknown, and the vaccination is admittedly not a very effective prophalactic; however, cats can live long lives with the virus. Unlike feline leukemia, which is highly contagious and tends to make cats very sick, very quickly, the FIV infected cat can live a long life, especially if they can be put on high protein diets and given supplements and treated with antibiotics when the frequent kidney infections, and a litany of other problems, occur. Such options are not available to the feral cat. So I keep looking out the window, and if Blue Eyes shows up, he will have water, food, and shelter, but the decision is his. While writing guess who showed up? He peered in the window and meowed, but ran away when I approached. We engaged in the meow call and response. I opened the door, left the room, and watched as he tentatively entered, then proceeded to eat. Then he left. My neighbors have a room above their garage they keep open for the local feral cat community, and have managed to get most of the females spayed. Between them, and us, and a couple of other neighbors, the wild cat community has some 50 acres in which to roam in relative safety from predators. My decision to release Blue Eyes back into his community, despite his FIV positive status, was in part due to the fact that most of these cats are likely to also be infected. I've learned a lot from my neighbor and my friends at the local shelter. Hopefully Blue Eyes and I will continue growing our friendship, and he will eventually overcome his fears and allow me to provide him with more care.

The Old Mare Can Still Bite

We bought a crystal ball in Mexico, I don't remember when. It's very heavy and I'm sure it has a high lead content. Mostly it has sat atop the marble coffee table, but we moved it to a southerly facing window ledge a while back. Yesterday we could smell something burning, so I went outside to see if someone nearby was burning a trash pile or leaves but sensed nothing. The smell was coming from the living room, not unlike the smell you notice when you blow out a candle and the waxy smoke quickly fills the surrounding space. The burning smell was so strong we moved into action. I climbed up into all three attic areas but all was okay. We checked the toaster, electrical wires, went outside again, checked the oven. Neither of us had been burning candles or incense. We narrowed the smell down to the fireplace area, but our fireplace is set up with fake logs and natural gas and we haven't turned it on in ages. Finally I saw the problem--the sun was hitting the crystal ball in such a way that the rays of the sun were focused on a spot on the wooden window ledge adjacent to the fireplace and had burned a hole about the size of a razor blade. It was black and hot and penetrated about an eighth of an inch. We doused it with water and vowed to keep the crystal ball away from the rays of the sun. It wasn't exactly forecasting our future but I can't help but wonder what the future might have held had we not been home.

I visited my sister and family on Thanksgiving day and met the newest member of her family--a beautiful quarter horse. I walked out into the damp field with bridle in hand and walked right up to her, put the bridle on then had my cousin, with several kids in tow, give me a hands boost up onto her back and I rode bareback to the barn where I saddled her up and rode for just long enough to get acquainted with her gentle nature. All the kids wanted to ride so I hoisted them up, one after another and led the mare down a cow path and back. It was great fun and the adults in the group wanted a brief riding lesson so I obliged and then watched as they sat on her back and went absolutely nowhere! I gave several demonstrations but knowing horses and learning to ride is something that takes time and experience and even though I hadn't ridden in a long time it all came back to me instinctively. They are beautiful, empathetic creatures. I kind of fell in love with her and would just as soon bring her home with me! When I returned my nephew home at the end of the holidays the mare found her way to the fence right by my car. I brushed her a while and petted her, but soon the kids were all around and I could tell she was annoyed. Then my sister came up and someone said something that caused her to burst out into an uproarious laughter and in a split second the mare reared her head up and bit the hell out of my sister's right breast. I thought for a moment she was going to pass out, but after about 30 seconds the pain subsided and a big blue, red and purple bruise appeared. It was quite a shock that this should happen, but no doubt my sister needs to learn to be calmer around her horse or she's going to get it right in the...

A 19 year old college student plowed his mother's pick up truck through our wild game fence late on Saturday night recently and totally demolished a section of it, snapping the wires like sewing thread, including the supporting wires attached to the nearby telephone pole. Luckily no one was hurt, but the damage effects about 60 feet of the fence as seven T posts are bent and that much of the high tensile wire must be replaced, requiring the installation of a new bracing post. He left the scene but called the next day and apologised, which I appreciate but he simply didn't understand that he couldn't come out and prop it up on his own. He didn't want his auto insurance to be notified but when I saw the damage I felt I had to file a police report. His mother got involved and said she wanted to pay for the damages out her own pocket rather than pay higher insurance premiums and we agreed. However, things did not go smoothly at all and in the end I had to ask the sheriff to pay her a personal visit and get her automobile insurance information so we could file a claim and get the job completed by the original fence builder. It's interesting, to say the least, to meet someone who bitingly professes to be an authority on something they know absolutely nothing about, and can be downright aggressive when you try to spell out the facts. The enormous expenditure of misguided energy is quite perplexing and stressful.

I'm enjoying about 3 yoga classes a week these days, and am still working with my physical therapist on strengthening a variety of muscles to help heal and protect my shoulders. The hoisting of kids up onto the back of a horse is not something I plan to do again anytime soon!


Happy Holidays to all and be safe--at home, on the rode, and with your bodies.

On The Ride

A small segment of a dream lingers in my thoughts for days afterwards. I was in an elevator, ascending to the top level of a building, and as I ascended the walls of the elevator began closing in on me--like they do in movies whereby the Indiana Jones character must find a quick means of escape or face death. An elevator is perhaps a contemporary of the wheel of fortune symbol, as it turns, one is ascending, descending, and at one point or another at the top or the bottom, but mostly in between. The emotional and physical ups and downs of life will apparently, at least for me, never end so long as I'm On the Ride. Just when we think the walls are closing in on us we find the strength to hold them open. My fortunes decline and then I find the coffers full; my spiritual strength waxes and wanes; my body forces me to a near state of stasis. I remember the meaninglessness of time, or better yet my skewed perspective, and allow the anger and frustation enough expression to diffuse and soften. I read mystery novels to pass the time. They often adhere to a strict formula which affords a sense of security, of predictability, the forces of evil doing battle with the forces of good where the detective ultimately outwits the villain and despite the damages already done, manages to set things right, more or less. I've become a huge fan of The Closer with Kyra Sedgwick as Chief Inspector Brenda Lee, a southern lady transferred to the mean streets of Los Angeles as head of a special branch whose purpose is to solve high profile murders (on DVD).

I miss group asana practice very much. I miss the community of people and the healing and nurturing that is always present. Doing physical therapy exercises with various colored thera-bands, at home, alone, is so boring that I feel I am being again tested to see if I can remember to stop and evaluate, to slow down even more and look at life from a different perspective. Personally, I don't care if my postural integrity is far from perfect, nor do I particularly care that my right lung is smaller than my left, that I have forgotten how to breathe into my upper lungs using my diaphram--I'm labeled an 'over inhaler'--nor that there's imbalance nearly everywhere from the hips up. But when it hurts and pain becomes a constant companion, I do indeed care and am called into a different kind of action. I've been very surprised to learn that quite a few people who practice yoga end up with injuries requiring physical therapy--so my physical therapist tells me. "We have many students of yoga coming through our doors seeking healing" he tells me. I've given up wondering what I might have done wrong. IF anything, it was pushing too hard doing what I love, not paying careful enough attention to pain, and forgetting the age and condition of this body I inhabit. It's not fruitful to think in terms of right and wrong, clearly I did a whole lot of right because it felt delicious and was so enriching. But now I need to compensate for whatever reasons that led to this imbalance that causes, at times, intense pain. Maybe I was over zealous in my pursuit of goodness, and ego got too involved. Doesn't matter anymore, not now.

A beautiful Siamese tom cat has decided he likes us, and we like him very much. He's not quite feral, but petting him is presently out of the question, much less placing him in a carrier and taking him to the vet for shots and evaluation. But it's been quite enjoyable making his acquaintance and doing our best to provide food and water. We call him blue eyes. How original.

I drive Dale to physical therapy this morning, his knee is healing very nicely and he walks far better post operation than before. We are already talking travel and planning our next adventure, perhaps Alaska, perhaps Ireland, who knows. I have a meeting with my physical therapist this week for the usual evaluation and the fine tuning and tweaking of my exercise program. I also see my newest Orthopedic Surgeon for the second time and hope to learn that surgery is not necessarily on the horizon, although I'm no longer resistant to it. One must be very careful in dealing with these surgeons, they often have god complexes and require that one be especially tolerant of their attitudes, as well as proactive in one's own care, but that should always be the case.

Back to The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte, check on Blue Eyes, have breakfast and begin chaffeur duties.

Interview with Karen Armstrong on NPR

The following link should take you to a brilliant interview with Karen Armstrong which aired recently on NPR's Fresh Aire, and I highly recommend setting aside 38 minutes and listening to it.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112968197&ps=cprs

Should the link not work, just go to http://www.npr.org and find the Fresh Aire podcasts. Let the content be a worthy treat to yourself! I hope you find it as inspsiring as I did.

The More We Learn, the More We Love, the More We Love, the More We Enjoy

While sitting in the doctor's office today I was delightfully surprised at the wonderful collection of books and magazines available to peruse--The Impressionists, a book on Australia, another of Africa, a book on Monet, a limited edition book about the Titanic, and much more. I was also impressed with the doctor and left feeling hopeful, uplifted and ready to move into his prescribed action or inaction, whatever the case may be. I feel quite hopeful that he has an understanding of my problem, one that he describes as "black and white with no areas of gray" and one that can be relatively easy to heal so long as I'm willing to do the work and stay proactive in my health care. I like his holistic approach. I like the fact that he seems so confident that he has discovered physical issues that clearly explain my problem--namely, my shoulder pain that continues to worsen no matter what I do. I wanted to jump for joy and scream YES when he told me that I've done nothing wrong, that this has nothing to do with yoga, or with doing asanas incorrectly, but has everything to do with trauma suffered in 1988-89 that has left my upper thoracic spine very much torqued in one direction which then is at a tug of war with my neck. I think the torqued upper thoracic spine spins my torso causing my right shoulder to move forward, my neck struggles to be forward looking, and there is much nerve impingement, plus the fact the the C-5 cervical disk is 60% gone and two other disks protrude slightly, one to the left, one to the right. I will work with him 3 times a week for the next two weeks followed by work with a physical therapist. He doesn't want me washing the car, mowing the grass, or doing any yoga while his treatment is in progress over the next two weeks. This will be a huge challenge. I will greatly miss the physical connection with community and no doubt the disconnect will not be easy, but this will be an opportunity to focus on the *non asana* aspects of yoga, such as, for example, studying my Anusara manuals!! But out of all the doctors and physical therapists I've seen (and more) he is the only one who has taken x-rays of my full spine, allowing him to view the whole spinal column to see what's going on. It's so common for doctors (and many of us) to have tunnel vision, maybe because we can only see that which we know about. In a book in his office I read, "The more we learn, the more we love; the more we love, the more we simply enjoy."

I took my yoga mat to Puerto Vallarta intending to do asana on the terrace or go to one of several yoga studios, but I simply didn't do that. I thought that giving my shoulders a rest might help--it did not. After a recent afternoon of swimming, I felt more pain than ever in both my shoulders, so rest seem to be a good idea, although the canopy tour of the jungle, all harnessed up and flying from one tree to another attached to a cable wire was definitely a bit of a strain on my shoulders. So mostly I just chilled, and read, and ate, and walked, and visited with people. Our suite in an old villa was funky and charming, right on the beach, and the staff and other guests were simply delightful. Dale struggled mightily with his knee and his greatly impaired ability to walk, so I suppose I did feel just a tad guilty being gone for over 6 hours on the jungle canopy tour. So I arranged several massages in our rooms, did some cooking in our little kitchen, and we spent a lot of time riding in taxis going out to eat at a new restaurant most evenings, lounging on the beach or by the pool or in the cool shade of our covered terrace. It's good to be home, as always. The pair of resident foxes are bringing their kits right up to the house to drink water. I wonder if they will survive the heat and what they find to eat. The birds and squirrels are all back as the feeders are now being filled daily. The old white haired racoon has learned to arrive early to eat what the birds and squirrels have left over. They are all always in search of food and water. The need for nourishment never ends. We can never learn too much, nor love too much, and there is always something right in front of us to enjoy, to take delight in.

"Home", More than a Film

Home is a spectacular film by Yann Arthus-Bertrand, narrated by Glenn Close, filmed in over 50 countries, with fantastic music, incredible aerial views, spectacular color. It is enlightening, enriching, educational, and a bombardment of the senses. Very Highly recommended. Home being our planet earth, its incomprehensible array of plant and animal species, micro organisms, our planet that is around 4 billion years old. We, as humans, having only appeared on the scene in the last 200,000 years. Only in the last 20,000 years did we settle into agrarian communities. Over one fourth of the people living on the planet today live exactly the way they did 6,000 years ago, and of those, three quarters still till the soil by hand. More people live in the deserts of the world than the whole of the population of Europe. Then we come to the last 50 years, and everything becomes "faster and faster" and what has happened just defies comprehension. We are a species like no other, ever. Please watch this film if you get the chance. It's available for rent, or can be purchased. I aimed the camera at the TV and took the above photos.