Monday, December 16, 2013

can we drop 2013 and move into 2014 lighter

My new years resolution for 2013 was to begin again in each moment with love and humility. 

It has been a real challenge, I'm not going to lie. This has been a year of immense solitude and often agonizing self-reflection. 

My kundalini teacher said that 2013 was a year of letting things go. We are all carrying around a lot of baggage and it has come to the surface this year, revealing itself so that we have the opportunity to see it, feel it, heal it and release it to the universe. When she was explaining this, every single person in the room, without exception, was nodding vigorously. 

No doubt it has been a heavy year for us all.

Thankfully, she said that if we can manage to release our 'stuff', 2014 will be fresh start (with a new moon on the 1st!) and will be a year of travelling more lightly, simplifying, going back to basics.

I am wrapping up 2013 in a way that befits both the release of the old and the embrace of what's to come. I'm attending a Vipassana meditation course from Dec 20-31. Vipassana is a ten day meditation course, which entails complete silence and meditation from morning to evening for the entire period. 

Maybe it makes no sense to most people, but it feels right for me. Solitude. It has been my enemy but now I choose to make friends with it. To enter it like a deep cave. To not scramble for the light in fear, but to anchor myself in my breath. To sit. To feel it. (Whatever it turns out to be.) To know that I will come out on the other side and when I do I will be more sensitive to who I am. Maybe I will find something in there that is worthy of love. Maybe I will drop some things that I've been carrying around. Maybe I will come out travelling lighter. If I can do the work I know I can get there.

As we wrap up another year can we take a moment to meditate on what we can leave behind forever? Can we empty our hands of whatever we are carrying and step into the next year with palms open, face to the sky?

My resolution for 2014 is to begin again in each moment knowing that at our core, without our baggage, we are all the same radiant presence. Light(ness). Love. Peace. 




Namaste, happy new year!

Thursday, December 12, 2013

a lesson in presence from whacking things with my hands

...Don't worry, they can't feel it. 

Lately I've been rocking out on the djembe and the darbouka (African/Arabic hand drums). I started taking lessons for no reason in particular. I guess I just had this visceral need to beat the shit out of a drum. I can't explain it, but from the very first lesson I had this profound feeling of peace that said I'm in exactly the right place right now.

Last class we learned a more intricate rhythm than the ones we'd been practising - a really funky offbeat groove with a sneaky extra hit in the 4th phrase.

I was diggin' it, really feeling the vibe. 

It's interesting to watch the mind as it's incorporating the new rhythm. 

At first it is so focussed, so intent on getting it. You nail each beat. You can visually see the pattern in your mind. 

You come up with all sorts of cues to twig your muscle memory. One right hand base, right hand tap, left base, right base, right left tap. It suddenly becomes a mental diagram, like one of those footstep diagrams showing dance steps. Or maybe something akin to Dance Dance Revolution or Guitar Hero. It's all coming logically together in a pattern, and goshdarnit I'm nailing it!

That all happens in about 45 seconds to a minute. 

After about a minute when that thought has become a well-formed presence in the mind and you're thinking, "I'm nailing it, I'm nailing it! Yes, check out my groove!", of course, you're thinking about how you're nailing it rather than what you were thinking about before, which is what you are actually doing, playing the rhythm. So, of course, you lose it. 

You drop one beat at first. Then you become so completely clusterfucked and confused that the whole pattern is completely eradicated from your mind. Gone.

So I look up at the instructor who I imagine to be laughing at me, but he's not because it's actually me who's laughing at me. And I look around at the others and I get back into it. 

Base tap base base tap tap. Base tap base base fumble. Now I'm confused and frustrated and thinking about it really hard. (So it was one base and then which hand do I use....) My shoulders are hunched over, my face twisted in concentration. 

Ok, I see what's going on here, I'm taking this a bit seriously. Relax face, relax body. Ready, set, groove. And I'm off again, into the rhythm. I notice that as I shut my thinking mind down and let my hands move automatically it begins to happen again. I'm nailing it.

Feelin' good. Feelin' groovy. It's all coming out creatively. The diagrams are gone and now there's just this raw creative impulse. In fact, my body has begun to move in some bizarre drum dance motion, which feels really nice.

And that goes on for a bit. Until I think about it. Until I think, "wow check me out, I'm doing this without even thinking! It's all just happening!" And then what is happening is that I'm not feeling it any more, now I'm thinking about how I'm feeling it and so, of course, I lose it. 

It's around this time when I begin to notice the interesting thing. I know the rhythm now; I feel the rhythm now. It comes with no problem, but as soon as I let my mind wander to another thought it's gone. I am being taught a lesson in presence. 

I notice that I cannot be playing the rhythm and thinking about stopping at the store on the way home to pick up dinner. I can't be thinking about what somebody said at work today. I lose the rhythm. 

I can watch my hands. I can watch the instructor. I can listen to the rancorous cacophany of the drumming circle. I can even look around the room (which is actually a yoga studio) at the pictures of BKS Iyengar in eight angle pose and such framed in black and white on the walls. 

It seems that as long as I am somewhere in the room, living in this moment, the rhythm will permit me to continue the experience of drumming. 

On this day, once this recognition had really set in I went about trying to stay as present as I could, and I am telling you now, it wasn't perfect, but I rocked it truly for the rest of the session.

That evening I took away two things: a really funky new groove, and a powerful lesson in presence given to me directly through experience.

That was on Wednesday and it's Friday now and for those 1.5 days I have been taking that lesson into various situations in my life and feeling the rewards of it. It's that intense focus into what you are doing, the rhythm of it, the feel of it, the sound of it, that has the capacity to uplift a task you do into a task you rock. And man, that's groovy.




Love always

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

this buddha belly is weighing on my mind...


I've had a few days off writing the blog. Maybe it's the coming holiday season or the moon or just me, but I've been feeling really out of touch with myself over this past week. Anything I tried to put down on paper seemed inauthentic, like I was pushing too hard. 

I am trying to get grounded again so I'm going to try to be really real with you. I think it will help me (which is really very selfish actually! :) ).

I've been caught in some pretty mean feedback loops in my mind of late. The most frustrating is my obsession with my post-winter spare tire. 

I recognize that I am not overweight, but I have put on a significant amount of weight to the point where I'm noticing that tops that were loose before are tight now. And I'm not really sure how it happened. (winter=less walking outside + too much chocolate + who knows and it doesn't matter?)

Last year I lost a significant amount of weight (I don't own a scale and couldn't tell you numbers if I wanted to) and was the smallest I have ever been in my adult life. I had beautiful thin arms with muscles I had never seen before rippling elegantly along my bones and my stomach was flat. *sigh* For the first time ever in my whole life my little pot belly nearly disappeared. 

I tried not to give into vanity. I honestly did. I tried to remain unattached and all that, but I was just so pleased with myself that I couldn't help but get a huge rush of worthiness and self-approval every time I caught myself in the mirror. (Like, YES I finally did it!)

Which makes my current situation all the more painful and, I suppose, a (really fun?!) learning opportunity. 

Obviously, the problem with getting so much self worth out of something so inconsistent and fleeting as a body image is that when you don't have it or it goes away you feel worthLESS. 

I think, how can I have done all this work on myself and be back HERE? I made it THERE and then I turned right back around and came back HERE. The shame of the weight I'm carrying now is not just vanity like it might have been before. Now it feels like this is also the weight of failure. I have failed to be that advanced being that I sometimes thought I was.

I am, in fact, mortal. Flawed. Fallible. And prone to emotional over-eating.  

(There, I said it.)

I guess it's just a message that I have only just begun this journey and that I still have lots to learn. 

I have nothing to do now but put down my hang ups and keep moving on. Forgive myself and stop beating up on myself. Try to see beauty when I look in a mirror rather than pick apart everything I hate.

I am me. And this is my body this time around. If I can't love it today, when will I? What needs to happen to make it acceptable to me? What needs to change for me to change my thinking?

With much love....

Sunday, December 8, 2013

simple insight from The Little Prince

I really like this chapter from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery....



Chapter 22

"Good morning," said the little prince.

"Good morning," said the railway switchman.

"What do you do here?" the little prince asked.

"I sort out travelers, in bundles of a thousand," said the switchman. "I send off the trains that carry them: now to the right, now to the left."

And a brilliantly lighted express train shook the switchman's cabin as it rushed by with a roar like thunder.

"They are in a great hurry," said the little prince. "What are they looking for?"

"Not even the locomotive engineer knows that," said the switchman.

And a second brilliantly lighted express thundered by, in the opposite direction.

"Are they coming back already?" demanded the little prince.

"These are not the same ones," said the switchman. "It is an exchange."

"Were they not satisfied where they were?" asked the little prince.

"No one is ever satisfied where he is," said the switchman.

And they heard the roaring thunder of a third brilliantly lighted express.

"Are they pursuing the first travelers?" demanded the little prince.

"They are pursuing nothing at all," said the switchman. "They are asleep in there, or if they are not asleep they are yawning. Only the children are flattening their noses against the windowpanes."

"Only the children know what they are looking for," said the little prince. "They waste their time over a rag doll and it becomes very important to them; and if anybody takes it away from them, they cry..."

"They are lucky," the switchman said.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

yoga, in 4 "easy" steps



My journey with yoga has been a winding road.

Almost always uphill and around many unknown bends and dips, it has been a difficult and treacherous path. 

As I look back to myself two years ago when I started on this journey, I know that I am essentially the same person today as I was back then, only with layers upon layers of sadness, anxiety and emotional baggage removed.

This is a brief summary of how yoga changed my life in 4 “easy” steps.

As I prepared to write this article, I was recalling the various stages of evolution in my yoga practice. It wasn’t long before I realised that each step of my journey was actually one that I had taken before, recycled in another form. I recognized a pattern of 4 repeating steps.

Maybe you have noticed them in your own journey…

They are: 1. Challenge, 2. Recognition, 3. Humility, and 4. Love.

Here is a little bit of how it played out for me since the beginning.

Challenge. I need to do something to get myself out of the house! I need exercise. Sitting in a desk all day and in front of the TV at night, I am watching myself slowly grow fatter and lazier! Can’t stand the gym and it’s too cold in winter to get outside, maybe I’ll check out hot yoga. It seems like it could be a bearable form of physical activity (seriously though, I hated exercise).

Recognition. Yoga is showing me some hard truths about myself. My body is so tight and asleep. I feel like an old lady! An unhealthy old lady.

I hope no one is watching me try to prop myself up on two blocks in half-pigeon pose. At least I can kind of blend in if I stick to the back of the room and only ever wear black!

I think this teacher is a bit strange. She keeps telling me to “move energy.” Not sure what that means, nor am I sure what the point of “om-ing” is. It makes me feel like a fake and I have to stop myself from laughing! I can’t even seem to close my eyes for 5 minutes in Savasana, let alone “observe” and “detach from” my thoughts like she says.

Humility. I don’t really care how good I am at these poses anymore or what I look like. I am enjoying yoga so much! I can’t believe the amount of improvement I am seeing, even from one class to the next! My body is capable of more than I thought it was! Who would have thought all the weird positions I could get into?!

Love. I feel strong. I officially LOVE this practice! It’s all I can talk about to my partner and anyone who will listen – the new positions I got into that day, how the sound of the om resonates through my body, and just how nice everyone is at the studio. I feel at home on my mat, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel at home in my body.


I learn to breathe.

Challenge. The more I build my life around yoga, the more I can see what I am doing in my life and on my mat. I can feel when I’m tired in my body and in my mind. I recognize how different foods affect my practice. I notice days when my mind is racing a million miles a second and others where I feel calmer and more focussed.

I am tuning in to myself. I can feel it. I can feel the yoga in the other areas of my life.

I stay in the hard poses (and close my eyes in Savasana) even when it feels impossible. I understand that the only limitations I have are the ones I create for myself.

I decide I want to be a happier and healthier human and I can see what needs to be changed to accomplish this. I take my first careful steps.

Recognition. All hell breaks loose. I am a mess. I’ve changed but my life hasn’t kept up and now everything has fallen apart. My relationship, my job, my goals – I question everything. I lose everything.

I see so many mistakes I’ve made in my life that it’s almost unbearable.

I question myself. This is not who I want to be.

I lose myself. Who am I?

I crash into despair and depression. Yoga keeps me alive.

Humility. I poke my head out from under the blankets of shame and fear.

I am still here.

My flaws are all exposed and raw, but I see no other choice than to keep living. I decide not to repeat certain mistakes. I decide to begin fresh. I decide to forgive those flaws.

Like falling out of a yoga pose, I get back up and try again. I am only human after all.

Love. I forgive myself. I see my flaws daily and catch myself in old behaviours but now I understand them. I see them as they’re happening and I smile in gratitude and recognition.

I know it’s OK.

I begin to see everyone I encounter as flawed also, and in their flaws I recognize a beautiful vulnerability.

I feel high. I feel invincible. I feel love coursing through me. Everything is OK in the universe.

Challenge. Believing I’m invincible and wanting more peace in my life, I try to mend fences with my ex-partner. So much old hurt and pain surface. I know I’m in a better place than I was before, but I can’t help feeling anger and blame for everything that’s happened. I am most angry that I allowed him to knock me out of my state of grace.

Recognition. I see how upset I am and I don’t like the person I see. I don’t like the things I’ve said and the way I acted. I fall apart again.

Humility. I begin fresh again by deciding to forgive. I realise I still have a long way to go on my path to healing.

Yoga provides the spiritual guidance I seek. I feel connected to myself, to others, and to a higher power through my practice. I decide to study and to learn and to be patient with myself. I am an empty cup.

Love. I see the beauty of it all. The fullness of life flows through me. Yoga is a delicious celebration.

Challenge. I visit home and am confronted by the ghosts of my past. They still see me as I once was. I wonder which person is really me.

I return to my new home but I feel separate – separate from myself and separate from the world. I still drag myself to yoga class but it has lost most of its meaning for me. I go through the motions.

Recognition. I wonder about the purpose of my life. Where should I be and who should I be? I don’t feel at home anywhere, even in my own body.

I am so f#%ked up.

I fall apart. Again.

Humility. I see quicker now and it’s easier to forgive myself for my flaws. I open myself. I empty my cup again.

I decide to let intuition lead the way. I decide to keep my feet on the ground and keep my flaws on display.

In allowing my vulnerability, I begin to feel strong. From this place I push my limits and touch places I haven’t before – in life and on the mat.

Love. I am in a more real place. And by real, I mean true to myself.

I feel strong. I am courageous and I put mySelf out into the world. People see me and I see them. I love them all regardless of how they perceive me. Life feels like a game and I want to play!

…and so it continues…

The yoga asanas are a physical practice that bring us through these stages of recognition in our bodies, but my yoga, my true yoga, is a practice that grows my life holistically through stages of clarity and chaos.

Through the cyclical pattern of expansion and contraction, birth and death, I come closer to my internal home.

The patterns, attitudes and beliefs that I don’t need die away one by one, and out I come each time, fresh as a baby, a snake shedding its skin.

My yoga journey is a cyclical motion of my soul spiralling ever outward from my body, and my focus spiralling ever closer to my heart centre.

Love,

R

PS. Thank you to the Yoga Loft, Newcastle for sharing my story with your community!

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

a loving meditation on my corporate job: part 2


9:30 am. Expense reconciliationasana. It is really quiet in here. I notice my breathing. I take several deliberate ujjayi breaths. No one notices. No one is here. I am all alone in this office. Everyone in the field today, the two others upstairs in deep meditation, spreadsheetasana.

I empty my mind, becoming present to each small movement I am making. Yes. This receipt does match the statement. Place it on the pile. Gingerly lift the next receipt and examine. Yes. This receipt does match the statement. Place it on the pile. Gingerly lift the next receipt ...continue focus on breathing...and examine. Yes. This receipt does match....

Open new window in Google. Type in 'vegan recipe buckwheat pancakes'. Search. Click. Read. Print.

I recognize I've momentarily lost focus. Breathe and begin again. 

I empty my mind. Gingerly lift the next receipt. Yes. This receipt does match the statement. Place it on the pile. 

9:37 am. Time for a tea break. Child's pose. I enjoy each moment of blissful standing rest. 

9:40 am. Expense reconciliationasana. Breathe. Repeat 108 times to breath, Kundalini style.

10:30 am. Inventoryasana. Check toilet paper stockasana. Reorder onlineasana. I'm flowing through the poses. It's a vinyasa.

10:45 am. I go for a walk outside to breathe some air. I reflect on my progress for the day so far. I feel slightly bored and useless until I remember that I get to go to yoga practice once my corporate job practice is done for the day. And I remind myself how I paid for my yoga membership and for that matter, the organic veggies in the salad I packed for lunch. I remind myself of the nice people I work with. I think about my life for a moment from a view from above and see clearly how privileged I am in every way. Gratitude.

11:00 am. I go back into the office disarmed. Lotus pose at my desk. I make a list of everything I need to accomplish that day. Travel bookingasana. Data entryasana. Photocopyasana. 

I move through the practice one pose at a time. Bringing myself back to breath whenever my mind wanders off. 

4:30 comes. I drive home in deep (eyes-open) Savasana. Relaxed, the practice complete. Restoring my mind and body for the next phase of the day. 

Having practised daily for years, I know these asanas well. Still, they feel a little different each day. One day a struggle, the next I fly straight through, light as a feather. If I tune in my daily tasks become a tool to see what my mind is doing that day. Then I have a choice. I can choose gratitude over boredom. Even in mundane tasks I can choose to be present and alive. It's not easy, but it has become my spiritual practice.

Sit. Stay. Breathe. Feel.

Monday, November 25, 2013

you are entitled to your opinion just as I am entitled to my opinion...so why am I so offended?



Despite all of my yogic practice, deep breathing and meditation, some things still really set me off when I hear them and I would like to know why.

Specifically, I take great offence to being told (outright or by implication) that my opinion or my way of life is wrong.

I have put a lot of thought and consideration into my beliefs. I like to think am a mindful and conscious person most of the time. I practice non-judgement of myself and others every moment of every day (when I say practice, that is what I mean - it is never perfect).

I specifically try to avoid imposing my beliefs or lifestyle onto anybody. My guideline is that if someone asks me a question I will answer the question fully and directly and from my heart. I try not to volunteer information (especially in situations where I sense there are many differing viewpoints). I didn't choose these beliefs to get attention or gain some sort of moral authority. And I don't like when the phrase "healthy debate" is used to mask a self-important and ego-driven rant. I prefer to share and discuss and learn.

So I feel really choked up when I hear someone say something judgemental about something I am passionate about (often not knowing anything about the topic or even asking me why I've made my choice).

For example, veganism is a bit of a hot topic in my life (along with "alternative" medicine). People often say things like, "people weren't meant to be vegans" or "I think you should be less rigid with your beliefs" or worse, they imply somehow that I am doing harm to myself or others with my food/lifestyle/healthcare choices.

My heart does a double-backwards-somersault into my throat when people wave articles from "scientific journals" in my face as their "proof." Firstly, you can find "scientific proof" of just about anything, it all depends on who you ask. Secondly, all you are doing is regurgitating someone else's opinion instead of formulating your own and then telling me that I also should adopt that opinion.

It's not that I have anything against science. Quite the opposite. It's that I don't believe science can give us or has given us the be all and end all TRUTH.

Science is a relatively new system (from Newton's time of the 1600s) and is a great and powerful method of reason. It has explained the working of many things for us and given us incredible advances in technology.

By definition, science continues to seek the truth. It changes its mind all the time about what that truth is as it discovers new and wonderful things. Often there are conflicting opinions even between scientist researching the same thing. Scientific articles from the past are often disproved or added to. Science is a growing body of knowledge and a process for gaining more knowledge.

But to accept science or a scientific paper as TRUTH is the same as accepting the bible or some other written work as TRUTH. Truth cannot be defined. It can only be pointed towards. Science, too, can be dogmatic if we cling to it as truth.

Scientific articles can be really interesting, and they can often help us to form our opinions, along with our intuition, our gut-feeling about something. When something works for you, you know it (on a level that is more base than intellectual).

This is how we come to know ourselves - experientially, intuitively, and through curiosity.

Coming from this perspective, maybe you can see why I get frustrated when someone waves a piece of paper in my face and says "see, I'm right, you're wrong, this paper says so". 

Or, maybe you can't, because it's highly likely that I am over-reacting.

And this brings me pack to my original point. I am interested to know why I get so frustrated with people and their unsolicited opinions. I wish I could explain to them the above and then they would understand that we can all live together in harmony with our gloriously different opinions. But that will never happen.

I need to figure out a way to not give a shit what they think of my beliefs. Or better yet, I need to figure out a way to not even hear what they are saying if it is judgemental of others. Because really, when I think about it, I know that what they are saying is their own opinion, which they are entitled to. And regardless of whether or not they are judging me for my opinion, that it doesn't change its validity. I wish we could all just share with open minds and hearts.

Rather than feeling victimized I need to find a way to stand strong in myself and know myself. I need to try to not let what other people say affect me so much - it is just words after all. 

Like when I was a kid, "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me".

...Maybe that's what I'll reply to the next snarky facebook comment...



With love always,

R

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Lord's Prayer translated from Aramaic...kinda changes Christianity for me (in a good way)

I love this and I wanted to share...

The traditional Lord's prayer begins

Our Father who art in Heaven
Hallowed be thy name
thy Kingdom come
Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven

Look at the translation into English directly from the original Aramaic. Can you feel the difference?

Radiant One.
You shine within us,
Outside us.
Even darkness shines when we remember.

from Gregg Braden's book The Divine Matrix. 

Love,

R

Thursday, November 21, 2013

a beginner's guide to voting with your body

What does it mean to vote with your body?

We tend to think of political activism as writing letters to public figures, going on marches or going to the polls every few years, but I have come to realise that the most powerful political tool I have access to is me. The way I choose to live, the beliefs I choose to maintain, my choices each day, these are my ballot. My body is my ballot.

Here is a quick, but maybe not so easy, beginner's guide (because I am still a beginner at conscious living also) to voting with your body.

1. Self inquiry. Get quite. Get still. Ask yourself what kind of being you are. Are you a helpful being? Are you a kind being? What are your values? 

No one has a right to pass judgement on your values. Your values, whatever you decide they are, are your unique gift to the world. (and, by the way, your values can change as often as you decide based on whatever new information you might receive. There is a word for inflexible values, it's called "dogma")

Let your values inform your politics.

2. Recognize your power. Think about all the ways you interact with the political and economic system. Do you buy things? Do you consume things? Are you involved in organizations? What about communities or social groups? What activities do you enjoy? Who do you work for? How do you spend your time?

3. Become conscious. Critically analyse whether the activities in the above line up with your values. Where does your money go? For example, do you give your money to oil and petroleum companies (no judgement, I do it too!) or to your local municipality in the form of public transportation? 

Where do you buy your food? Where does that food come from and how is it produced? What are you actually eating (read ingredients)? 

What else are you buying/consuming? Clothing? Where is that made? What is it made of? Who made it? Furniture? Books? Other things? Do you need them? Who are you supporting and why?

Remember that every time you put a penny down you participate in a political/social/environmental act. What is your purchase saying to the government, to your community, to yourself?

Think about your choices. 

Time is a form of currency too. Think about where you are spending your time and how. Do these choices feel good to you? If so they are probably in alignment with your values. If not, then you might want to ask yourself why you are investing time in them.

Infuse your day, your week, your life with consciousness.

4. Notice and make adjustments. Only once we finally see what we are doing can we decide to make changes. Remember that you are significant! Corporations, organizations, producers couldn't survive without individuals who support them! And if you want to see change in the world the easiest way is to change how you see the world. Start with yourself. You are the only thing you can really change. Feel the power and agency in that. If you life with conscious intention, you lead with authority.

5. Never stop learning, changing and adjusting. Be open. Seek the truth, but don't cling to it.

I told you it was quick! Easy is another story. It can seem overwhelming - all of the choices, so many things to consider and so much potential for mistakes! But there is a great beauty and comfort in knowing that each simple choice we make helps to create a reality we are looking towards. Nobody can live 100% perfectly all the time (or ever!), but we can adapt, recalibrate, and use our values to guide us gradually to the path of our choosing and in time, to the world of our choosing.


I may not be the most politically literate person in the world, and you won't catch me protesting in the street, but I make sure I vote every day with my lifestyle and my choices. Gandhi said, "my life is my message," well I second that, and add, my body is my ballot. 



Love,

R


Wednesday, November 20, 2013

how unmasking our raw trembling and naked selves is a good thing


Recently there was a death in my family that was particularly difficult.

There is something about tragedy, loss and suffering that opens a person up. The rawness and depth of the ache seems to allow access to layers that were previously ignored or otherwise off-limits.

It is beautiful to see someone sharing their pain freely and without ego. That is, without hiding behind limits set by societal norms of how intense is too intense? how deep, too deep? (I once had someone say to me, you know, you're kind of intense)

Some people seem to naturally have more ready access to this level of emotional rawness than others. For some it is right there on their face at any instant or ready to spill out at the word go. 

I am one of those people. I once cried in high school because a much-loved teacher who had departed to another school had a whole box of donuts (his favorite treat to give students) delivered to me during class one day. I remember I wasn't even embarrassed at my display of emotions, I only remember being so surprised with love and gratitude and feeling those feelings so fully.

I cry a lot actually.

I once had a very intuitive friend advise me to think about tears. Tears can actually be a way that we run from our emotions or distract ourselves from what is going on internally. They can be another mask we wear.

This comment stuck with me and I refer back to it sometimes when I feel myself welling up. Just a quick check in, what am I feeling and am I allowing myself to feel it fully? If yes, then the tears are a natural part of the process for me.

My grandmother taught me to cry.

We used to sit together when I was small and listen to her favourite music, Bach, and cry, feeling the beauty of the symphony in our hearts.

I don't remember crying when she died, but these days when I talk to her, I often well up.

So yes, my emotions are always at the surface. I'm not saying this is good or bad, I'm just reveling in the differences between people. I often wish I could be a more "composed" person.

I was in this group of people recently, working on a personal development program together, and we were given this really intense and extremely gratifying exercise. We stood face to face with every other person in the group, one at a time, and had to look directly into their eyes for a period of time. The instructions were to tell them silently, using our eyes only, about our personal journey. Trying to set aside the nerve-wracking experience and general discomfort of the intimacy involved implicit in staring into another's eyes, I set about exposing myself to each of them and opening myself to see what they would share with me.

I was astounded to realize just how much we can share with our eyes. Some people let me right into their souls. They showed me their pain and their triumph and their love. Others were open but hesitant, but as I revealed myself to them they too would open like a flower, the depth behind the mask. And some stayed shut. There was a wall just beyond the surface that they clung to, consciously or unconsciously.

The most profound thing I learned from this exercise is that, as we've been told, we are all one. Regardless of our experiences, our pain our growth, we aren't just the same as one another, we are different faces of the same person. Different perspectives of the same love. 

In our grief and our suffering, in our gratitude, love and joy we are connected. The walls we put up are artificial. They may serve a purpose for us and we can choose to use them. But as soon as we allow it, we can experience oneness.

Try it. Look at the next person you see from the knowledge that he is you and see what happens.

In my life I often feel like I have to tone down my intensity so that I don't scare others away. I wonder what would happen if I let that go. When grief touches us we sometimes glimpse a portal into the realm of oneness. Is this a lesson we can take with us throughout our lives - being just a little more raw, a bit vulnerable, and maybe subsequently more loving?

Monday, November 18, 2013

lucid dreaming [poem]

smiles in rearview mirror
fedora over beach hair
bouncing down urban road in
red pickup truck
nose ring yeah i'm cool
folk tunes stampin stereo
red light guy in next car 
looked over i swear be cool
windows rolled right down
but that was just a dream

yoga star om expert 
sweating thru anti-corporate
tank and coloured crops
smiling thru pain and 
posing each moment for Yoga Journal
hair tossed carelessly
elegant earthy top knot
waterproof mascara
breath perfection alignment perfection
but just another dream

cute blonde office girl
tucked neatly behind desk 
smiling hiding
long finger nails tick tak typing
little wink for the silver-haired 
executives patriarchs
dressed up just enough 
but not too much
so sweet so quiet so dumb
but yeah it's just a dream

book and bag on arm
a poet on the beach
wind blowing thru pages
don't look distracted girl
fedora makes a second act
not worried where sand sneaks in
looking out to vast blue ocean
believing she understands
beauty and love HAH
what's left after the dream?


Thursday, November 14, 2013

life is a playground. tag, you're it!


My plan is to play through life!

Play through work. Play through "responsibilities." Play on holidays. Play through the smooth times. Play through trouble. Play through sadness. Play like a child, laughing, trying, flailing and falling, growing silent in concentration, using my mind to solve a problem and sharing. Helping others, everyone is a potential friend, and asking for help. I know I don't know everything.

I never want to strive to "work hard" again. I vow to no longer listen to those who tell me that success in life is achieved by working really really really hard (as though I must suffer difficulty and strain to be worthy of success!). I want to work soft. I want to work gentle. I want to work easy. I want to work playfully.

When something takes me in a flurry of interest, I want to get caught up in it, involved in it. I want to be passionate.

I don't plan to beat myself up for anyone or anything anymore. I don't want to fight. I like to play nice. This is my one beautiful life and I plan to love all of it.

A lofty goal. (at least you can see I'm not without ambition!)

Play is a way of interacting with the world that sees everything and everyone as inherently on my side. We are all friends in a schoolyard. We play different games and in each game we play different roles, but it's always just for fun. Nothing is so serious because this too shall pass.

Have you ever looked at your corporate job and thought, "these guys are taking this game waaaay too seriously"!? They are fighting and being rude. They talk to their mates as though the organizational structure is a real thing. They hurt themselves by getting stressed out and neglecting their health and their loved ones!

Can they not see that life is made of tiny moments of ecstasy? Can they even feel ecstasy any more?

But I don't hate the player nor the game! I say, if you can find a game you want to play, get into it! Enjoy! Sweat! Push your limits! But only for the love of it. Only if you can feel your soul delighting as it pours forth through you into the task. If you wake up at 2:30 am grasping for your phone so you can record the dream-load of ideas that was just gifted to you and email your future self at the office ("oh what did I mean by "create pyramid spreadsheet for Alberta possums" anyway?????").

Yes, do it for the love of it. Else, don't put your attention to it at all.

But my process of play doesn't just extend to the workplace. I am playing while I drive my pick-up truck (yes, that's me singing and smiling with the breeze in my face). I am at play when I hang the washing (getting immense satisfaction from using the least number of pegs on the most number of clothes), and when I cook (talking, of course, to the carrots and eggplant as I chop, "you little guys are going to join the other veggies in a yummy curry now and be loved and enjoyed by us all!").

But play isn't really about turning everything into a game. It is more a quality of being that invokes lightness, curiosity, and good humour. 

Play says, "I am open."

As in, "pass the ball, I am open!" "What do you want to do tonight? I am open!" "What do you think about this first draft? I am open!" "How can we resolve this issue together? I am open."

I am open to receive. I am open to feel. I am open to you. I am open to life in all forms that it shows up.

So waddya say? Wanna play?



Love,

R

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

"The Invitation" by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.



By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming,
from the book The Invitation
published by HarperONE, San Francisco,
1999 All rights reserved

Monday, November 11, 2013

some things never come clean


I had a dream that I was in a beautiful hotspring in a secluded mountain. There were some friends with me and we all sat on a rock ledge, our feet dangling over into a deep cavern below, up from which swirled bubbles of soupy endothermic heat. Not a watery hell. A great cooker of life. An earthly birth canal, which bathed us in subtle energizing tranquility. 

Small creatures and deep-sea fish swam around us, exploring us. A long pink fish with a wide-open mouth and blue gills came close and tasted each of our bodies. Some observed calmly in curious union with the stranger, but some were startled and splashed it away like frightened animals.

I took a large bowl and dipped it into the pool, filling it with salty life - small fish, sea plants, strange bits of organic and inorganic matter. I began to wash them, one hand in the bowl agitating lightly the suspension. I rinsed and rinsed, each time pouring out the cloudy liquid, as though washing the chickpeas before cooking them. And each time filling again the bowl with water from the hot spring. Patiently and gently I washed. Then someone said to me, "some things never come clean, Rikki."

The dream ended and I woke up in a beautiful peace.


Love,

R