Vipassana

Just before checking in to the 10-day silent meditation Vipassana course, I wrote:  

what could happen

In Ten Days?

people will die

bombs will explode

daily life routines will

continue to drone.

snow will fall

clouds will shift

hearts will break and 

people will fall in love.

the world continues to spin

by god, or unseen magicians

by the grace of the 

beloved musicians.

There's a lot I'm tempted to say about my time at the Vipassana Meditation Center in Pune, Maharashtra, India.  Saying too much might elicit expectations from others who have yet to experience it.  It's hard to approach anything without expectations, and I'm happy I went for it having heard only very general comments, without having read much.  I can say that the technique is brilliant!  

Imagine the ideal gift.  To do so, you might draw from past experiences.  Maybe your dear friend treated you to a day out:  breakfast at your favorite cafe, a walk in the park, yoga class, and an organic dinner with her comforting company all the while.  Perhaps you imagine a future gift, something you could really use.  The gift I discovered during Vipassana is the ideal gift that renews itself with each moment.  Here, we have another cliche, "that's why they call it the present".  When you choose to open it, this gift  continues to unfold.  The more it unfolds, the more beautiful it becomes.  It's you, it's the present, it's the universe, it's life.  As long as you're alive, you have the choice of acceptance.  In accepting this gift, the most beautiful depths of the self are revealed.  

There are so many ways to happiness, God, self-realization.  Vipassana is yet another practice worth trying.  Without focusing on God, the technique aims to positively alter the manner in which we react while broadening our understanding of impermanence.  In the end, we are guided down the road to decreased suffering... and increased happiness, patience, and compassion.  

If you've considered attending the course... do it!  Read no more.  

Heaven and hell

On the overnight, 14+ hour bus ride from Mumbai to Goa, I asked myself why I'm taking this time to see another part of India.  It's not that I don't absolutely adore this hunk of a nation. It's just the crappy feeling I sometimes get about being a tourist on "holiday".  What's the purpose of it, really?  I end up feeling like a jackass, walking around some strange town, occasionally taking photos in the attempt to capture a snippet of a moment I perceive to be beautiful.  I'm not contributing much to these strange places, maybe some good energy through smiles and light conversation, and dollars besides.  On the flip side, I've selfishly realized the benefits that I reap as my heart gently leaps through the mazes of waves from darkness to light.  Here in India and a few other places I've been through, travelling becomes a twisted game of 'heaven and hell'.  


Hell is the hour it takes to get out of the hot, grimy, loud, thick city of Mumbai by bus.  Stagnant air meeting my face at the window that longs for the breeze brought only by greater speed. Heaven is the infinite number of amazing scenes that pass through that window: colorful markets, holiday lights, interesting buildings, traffic jams, goats, cows, families in poverty living on sidewalks among vendors and dirty happy children.  


Hell is trying to stay light and fun with the travel partner I don't really know, the travel partner who didn't seem to be as easy as I think I am... while walking on eggshells around her mood swings.  Heaven is when she gives thanks to me for being a great companion, when I see her smile with childlike wonder at animals and all things cute (fondly reminding me of a dear girlfriend), when I know she's well-fed and content, and she ends up emerging a strong, fun, wise, helpful, delightful travel buddy! 


Hell is trying to sleep during the overnight bus ride, full of potholes and hairpin turns, not able to stretch my long-ass legs, and wondering why the passengers had to shut all the windows, enclosing us in this grimy interior.  Oh, I never felt so filthy.  Heaven is the midnight pit-stops for toilets, chai, and a strrrrrrreeeeeeetchhhhh.  Heaven is waking up to see the lush, palm tree hills of Incredible India covered in layers of fog as the sun lazily emerges from behind low lying clouds.  


Hell is wandering around, bags in tow, in search of a suitable hotel.  Heaven is when we always seem to find a larger than expected room with a clean bathroom at a reasonable price.  There's nothing even remotely hellish about the food here.  Even unsure of what we order, every meal seems like the best EVER.  Here, the food, sweets, and chai are heavenly.  


Hell is where my mind goes when children follow me down the street, begging for food or money.  Heaven is in the smiles that come from those kids after simply taking their photo or slicing up a guava to share with them.  


Hell is feeling like a tourist.  Heaven?  Being invited into the home of a couple, around my parents age, for a special Diwali dinner.  Their two daughters are settled in the States, they were especially delighted to have us, and the food and stories were outstanding.  Life is a blessing, the beginning of heaven.  


Hell is a twisted, dark, imagined place that lies in pockets within the perception of my privileged, fortunate mind.  I don't think I've ever experienced hell.  Even the bout of traveler's diarrhea, which left me feeling as though I'd been hit by a truck, feverish, nauseated, and ready to die... was rapidly alleviated by neighbors and the ever-surprising travel buddy. This wandering that seems so silly at times will eventually lead me home, which still remains to be that undetermined physical location... where my heart is, where my sea-bag is.  

Listening to the Heart

I could feel it contracting as it was closing in on itself.  The wide, open feeling of lightness was narrowing with each consecutive breath.  I actually felt the seed of anxiety rooting within me.  Physically, my spine must have moved from an elongated upright posture to a shorter, hunched position.  That’s when I finally realized what I must do.  How grateful I am to have had such an extreme physical reaction to the tone of someone’s voice.  It is not wise to allow the fear of hurting others cause us to falter.  Rather, it is wisdom’s voice that allows us to free our hearts from succumbing to those who fail to recognize the source of happiness.

When we realize we’re going in a direction that’s not maintaining the integrity of our authentic being, may we be grateful.  And when we have the drive (and sense) to keep following the true path ingrained in the heart, may we rejoice.

I often find myself advising others to do what makes them happy, to follow their dreams.  Just as often, I have allowed self-discipline to weaken.  When there is knowledge of self, truth, and the source of happiness, love, and light... the weakening of self-discipline leads one to lazily take the downhill offshoots of paths that aren’t the most appropriate.  The laziness conceals awareness, covering it up, veil by veil.   To kick that laziness is to re-open the eyes, heart, and breath.  To kick that laziness is to allow my body to, once again, be that beautiful channel of pure love and light.  To kick that laziness is to acknowledge and remember the Voice of the Heart.  Welcome home.    Thank you, Mearm the catalyst.  

The Gayatri Mantra

Om Bhur Bhuvah Swaha

Tat Savitur Varenyam

Bhargo Devasya Dhimahi

Dhiyo Yonaha Pracho Dayat Om.

May we meditate on the effulgent Light (or Power) 

of the Worshipful One Who Has given birth to all worlds.

May this One direct our Mind-rays towards the path of Good.

You only live once

I can’t figure out if it was Mae West or Joe E. Lewis who once said, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough”.  I’ve always loved that quote.  With each moment and breath, we’re a moment and breath closer to death.  It’s an obvious part of life, and a healthy thought to contemplate now and then.  Thoughts often creep in while I’m out on walks.  The newness of the day and the breathtaking beauty of where I live naturally push me to be grateful for my present state of impermanence.  


How often does everyone really ‘seize the day’ and live as though they could die at any time?  How often do we forget or ignore the truth in that last statement?  Not just ourselves, but the people we love, the people we know.  Who’s it going to be?  The aging grandfather who’s been bedridden for over a year, whose quality of life has been plundered by disease?  The adventurous, sweet, young man who works in the kitchen, plays intense music, is best friend to his widowed father, and sends twisted, funny text photos to his friends?  Or will it be the carrier pigeon that finds your yard to be a great place of rest until he drowns in the swimming pool?  


Now is the time to embrace life… while we’re still alive.  Neither for the charms of yesterday, nor the promises of uncertain tomorrows… we must tap into awareness and give thanks for the present.  Every day is different; every day must be a fun, treasured gift.  Live it up.     

Wake up

Wake up each morning.

Step back and out.

There is life. 

There it is,

perfect.  

Beyond petty complaints, let it hit

like a big, fluffy pillow

widening

sleepy eyes.  

Consciousness.  

Movement.  

Sound.  

Vision.  

Senses. 

Fun.

Awareness.  

Wonder.  

Sky.  

Breath.

different 

new

sky.

sky.

sky.

sky.

sky.

sky.

sky.

seven layers,

seven heavens.

infinite blues.    

Bad Manners / Good Karma

When I lived at the ashram as a student of yoga, we were introduced to the practice of Karma Yoga. The idea is to do work for no reward.  Work becomes worship, or devotion.  Fruits of our labors go out the window, as we free ourselves from attachment to the results. One must let the ego go, releasing feelings of superiority and resentment.  During afternoons, we were organized to do certain chores for maintaining the order and cleanliness of the grounds, such as picking up pieces of trash and scrubbing the floor of the meditation hall.  At the end there was no reward, no pay, and no free cookie.  It wasn’t a big deal; we weren’t performing work for praise, pay, or our own benefit.  Everyone worked for the good of all.  When I was in the Navy, I was often assigned to similar tasks:  weeding the cracks in the sidewalks, picking up trash, painting things that seemingly didn’t need another coat of paint.  I can’t say my work in the Navy was anything close to being considered karmic, as it was part of the job.  At the ashram, I got a nice little taste of the idea of Karmic actions. 

Sharing living spaces with others makes me miss my last apartment mate, and also brings me back to those lessons and ideas of Karma Yoga.  It’s not easy when flat mates don’t have similar standards of cleanliness or respect for the shared space. Some individuals use the space with no second thoughts, and no effort to clean up after themselves.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, one individual doesn’t think twice about getting up to her elbows in grime to clean our area.  Today, she scrubbed the washing machine components with a toothbrush.  I don’t know what goes through her head, but she seems quite content to do these tasks for the good of all.

I can only strive to be that cool as I’m doing my part.  I definitely feel like I do far more than my share.  I don’t expect a pat on the back, or even ‘thanks’.  In a way, I know my actions could potentially be a form of Karma Yoga.  I’m just not there yet.  If I complete this work with thoughts of increasing my good karma, it defeats the purpose of Karma Yoga’s goal:  doing work as worship, without being attached to its fruits.  I try to keep it clean with a smile, but perhaps just need to let go of the anger and resentment that occasionally accompanies me on the frequent walks to the trash receptacles.  

Part III: Peace

SPEAKING OF HEALTH… Though I might not have the biggest circle of friends here, my social life still feels healthy.  I suppose a large number of friends is not what’s been needed.  Rather, over the past 6 months, I’ve spent many moments and days solo.  Out walking, exploring, reading, drawing, watching videos, and striving to learn more.  My time here’s been an attempt to fall more completely into knowing and loving the self, and accepting what is… 

So I’ve accepted with gratefulness that I’m 32 years old and haven’t chosen to settle down in any one place.  With gracefulness I’ve also realized that I’m not yet building up a retirement plan (or, what do you call them, 401-K?).  To think of the future is realistic and mature.  To settle into a mediocre life routine that works merely for the future, with the great hope of enjoying and embracing life’s fun when the kids are grown and we’re retired… In my opinion, that’s just taking too much for granted.  Not to judge anyone who’s comfortably settled.  Hats off to all who follow their hearts!  Having a house is probably a very comforting feeling.  I appreciate going back for holidays and summers to find a house full of loving family, great food, and incredible, rejuvenating warmth. When I’m in a regular place, it feels nice. 

Here I am, attempting to maintain enough money for the unforeseen emergency, period of joblessness, or desire to travel.  I’m already on the cusp of another transitional period, between jobs and places.  A few years ago, this may have caused in me anxiety and worry.  Now, it’s a blessing, because it’s my life.   As I stride into the unknown, there are infinite doors before me.  I may not be the epitome of stability, but I do work hard to maintain the inner space.  Our inner spaces can be filled with so many things, depending on what we allow for.  If we cultivate love and happiness, the space becomes a bright, shining light, giving us flexibility, compassion, and understanding.  If we ignore that inner space, it’s quickly filled with darkness and muck, veiling our senses, holding us back. 

This present situation has ended up being a time of tremendous, heart-opening growth.  Thanks to a life-changing University course titled Spiritual Development (in which I enrolled twice, because the instructor, program, and class were that good), I’ve learned and cultivated various spiritual practices and ways that have shown me how to more fully embrace life and experiences.  I’ve also been blessed with some incredible Spiritual Teachers over the past ten years. 

When we open our hearts and welcome, we’re able to receive signs.  These signs lead us down our own natural paths.  Be they people, emotions, or experiences, these signs from which we can learn… are always there.  We need only open our minds and hearts to them.  In turn, one begins to notice the effect of this open heart on others.  The world seems friendly, everything and everyone becomes more beautiful, and everything in life flows, as it’s naturally inclined to. 

What’s the point of any spiritual practice, and to where will these so-called paths lead us?  Beyond acceptance of all that is present, beyond realization of life’s impermanent beauty… May we move toward PEACE.  

Part II: Practice

SPEAKING OF PRACTICE, there’s more to life than work, eat, drink, be merry, and sleep.  According to the World Health Organization’s 1948 definition, health is:  a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.  Ask yourself, on a scale from 1-10, how you measure up overall.  How do you truly feel about your health?  According to a favorite university professor, most people tend to place themselves somewhere near the middle.  I feel 8.2.  After you mark your number, ask yourself what you’re doing to improve on it.  Shouldn’t we all be trying to move forward?  We’re not getting younger.  This is life, it’s not a dress rehearsal or preparation for the future.  We should be enjoying it to the utmost, feeling our best.  We need money for survival, but what is more important… having a shitload of money… or feeling like a million bucks?  What do we practice to maintain what we perceive as being ourselves, our sanity, our senses of well-being?  Self-medication and psycho-therapy sessions?  Television, sports, eating sweets, eating fresh foods, crosswords, reading, and the arts?  Worship, meditation, and taking time out for breathing and awareness?  Meeting with a book club, a Mom’s group, or happy hour buddies?  So many things, so many ways.  How positive or beneficial are our practices?   What do we spend our moments, days, months, years, and lives doing? Living.  Now.  No judgments here, nor expectations, and no excuses.  Explore and contemplate.  Think about your practices… and in which directions they’re leading you.  

on Statistics

This year, World Aids Day was December 1, 2009.  According to the World Health Organization, 33 million people are infected with HIV.  With the success of some prevention programs, new HIV infections have been reduced by 17% over the past 8 years.

Statistics tend to be thought provoking.  According to www.worldometers.info :  

This year, there were twice as many bicycles produced than cars.

There are over a billion undernourished people in the world right now.

There are more than 340,000 obese people in the world right now.

There are over a billion people with no access to safe drinking water. 

Over 15,000 people died of hunger today.

World statistics surprise.  Facts are gross and haunting.  They're just numbers until you get out there with open eyes and hearts.  A dear friend of mine is working as a Peace Corps volunteer in Cambodia.  He's written about and shared with me stories of the darkness that  the people he lives with have seen in the recent decades.  War.  Poverty.  Murder.  Disease.  Children are sold into brothels so as to support other members of the families.   

The atrocities in which people live go on and on and on.  We know this.  Mentioning them is not to depress.  It's to remind us to be mindful... mindful of the many conveniences.  We are the 'haves'.  This, too, we know.  Back to my present life's moment.  

Woke around 7:30 to begin my morning with a walk up the nearby 'baby' mountain (or, ginourmous hill, if you will) Sarabong.  The air here is almost as lovely as Monterey's, but not quite as perfect.  Gorgeous views of the city and sea.  Descended the hill on the far side, which is a switchback walkway laid with reddish octagonal bricks, lined with trees and large, tropical flowers.  I only saw three other people, yet on a clear day I would have likely seen no less than a dozen.  Continued on to explore the next hill, which seemed almost as steep, perhaps not as high.  I'd never been up this one before. The path down its far side was even steeper.  At the path's early descent the view of the sea was so amazing, I had to pause.  It's the thing, it's the outside that can simultaneously take me away and bring me back.  The wonder of that nature, seeing the sea's horizon in the distance, with no land in sight.  Heavy, grey, distant clouds lowering to a hazy whitish line over the deep, far, blue-grey ocean.  Ships here and there, and the water hitting the black rocks of the coast.   Continuing on, the path leveled out and branched out through an area wooded with pines.  Trees and fallen leaves, being wet, appeared even more vibrant.  After about 15 minutes down, I emerged to a road near a parking lot behind a huge, blue-metal-roofed building.  No idea where I was, but the direction back was obvious, so I followed the roads around 'til I reached a recognized, main road.  


This is my life here, I can take this walk any morning, and I'm grateful.  Living in a gorgeous location, doing easy, enjoyable work.  No wants, no complaints.  Decent, likable, friendly, great company.  No car needed.  Just feet, a bike, and convenient, cheap public transportation.  


The heavy clouds constantly change the sky, the sun occasionally peeks out.  One of those days that welcomes the dark, moving cover.  It's the dark, moving cover that can keep me mindful of the darkness.  The darkness that looms in the lives of so many individuals, families, communities, and nations throughout the world.  We can't save the world, but in the midst of our comfortable lives, we can remember it's there.  And when we stop to wonder what we can do to lend a hand, to help... we must know that it starts from within, with the realization that we are one.  We are all the same.  As we go, may we continue on in life with the intentions... to think good thoughts, speak good words, and do good things.  


... and appreciate the many facets of 'beauty'... 

Keep moving

Keep moving

Finally, after being so sick
a husband has died.
At the appointed time
a baby was born.

You keep moving, coming and going
You keep moving.

Lock,
unlock,
lock,
unlock,
lock,
unlock

You keep moving with events
of your big, little life

And that’s it. That’s what it’s about.
You are alive. You are.
A bag full of blood, sweat, and tears.
You are
keeping it fun
With love, all around you.
With love, it’s all around you.
Love, if you let the world love you:

A mirrored rejoice.

What's going on

What’s going on

I am not yet awake, just dazy eyes
gazing out into reality, my world
which ends up being enough happiness
to make the day worthwhile.

That man who used to sell me coffee
has the warmest blood
flowing beneath his tattooed skin,
behind his smile, through his beating heart.
His brown hair is growing.
I thought of him as I thanked him for the coffee,
(and I think about him now.)

Later, as I wiped away the juicy remnants
of that fuzzy, ripe summer peach
I remembered the nature and conditions
and thought and work and tender care
behind its being: all that brought it to my hand.

In the nighttime I see the moon that everyone sees
if they look. I still wonder about those bricks
that make up the wall that supports the building
upon whose wooden floor I used to sleep.
I wonder about the men who made the bricks,
who laid the bricks, who drew the plan of that place, still standing:
and I love them.
I touched those bricks being rained on, being looked at by others.
I think about the other sets of eyes, the others who will look at,
who have seen those bricks.

The others, like all others, are not me.
The others, like all others, they are me. We are same.
Helping make the world go ‘round
with some, or a lot, of goodness within.

Keep walkin'...

As I approached the lake, I heard one of the boys say, “Just keep swimming like we aren’t doing anything”. Ha, this should be good.

“What are you guys doing?” I ask.

“Isaac’s skinny dipping!” Jacob informs me.

Oh yeah?! “That’s AWESOME! Everyone should skinny dip! I do it with my friends whenever possible.” It was cute they thought they should sneak. Little did they know I’d been skinny dipping twice that past week, in a very public outdoor pool, with very adventurous friends, playing the funnest ever game of Marco Polo, very illegally. Isaac requested, several times, that I “join the party”, but I declined. Inappropriate in this country for me to bare all in the company of two boys, aged 8 & 10. He convinced his older brother, Jacob, to remove his shorts. That didn’t last long, as Jacob thought it “felt weird”. Isaac didn’t ever want to put his shorts on again. He dove in, purposely raising his pale little butt out of the water, into the air. He jumped straight up, flashing the world. Basking in nature, he shouted out: “THE BODY IS A BEAUTIFUL THING! DON’T HIDE IT”... “FREEDOM!”… “JOIN THE PARTY! JOIN THE PARTY!”.

Everything thereafter became ‘skinny’. There were skinny-fish, skinny-games, skinny-races, skinny-splashing… and it honestly warmed my guts to see Isaac experience such joy as they dove down, collecting trash and making seaweed bracelets. This same kid, just an hour earlier, was complaining to no end about having to walk through the woods. Walking through the woods was part of the deal. I’d spent the last two weeks hanging out with these angels so they didn’t have to spend the end of summer in daycare. Part of our daily routine was taking a walk. As long as I was hanging out with them, sunshine & exercise were essentials. Home days, we walked around the neighborhood and usually across the street, where there’s a wooded trail complete with a few run-down exercise stations. Days at the lake, we hit the beautiful Bartram Trail. The first time we hiked, Isaac was all complaints, yet Jacob motivated him. “Think of how great you’ll feel when we finish three miles! It’s such an accomplishment!” By the time we hit the lake, both days, we were all smiles.

Spending those two-plus weeks with the boys was awesome. I never would have predicted the stress that came from hanging out with them all day before having to go into work for the evening. Not that they’re stressful company, by any means. They’re easy, fun, and extremely creative. But I don’t have kids… so I had no idea. Being so responsible, being so there. Sure I’ve babysat & have four nieces & nephews. But to spend 2 & ½ weeks taking care of these guys during the day… was a wake-up call. Feeding times, play times, cleaning up, being productive, getting away from the screens for physical activity. How lucky I was that they're two punk-rock, awesome dudes. High-fives over and over to their mom, my dear friend, Amy. And high-fives all around to any parents out there who manage to maintain the lives of their offspring.

Summer times always tend to blur… but hopefully they’ll remember the walks.