The Power of Intention

I am becoming increasingly aware of just how powerful one's intentions can be. All the more reason for opening the heart so that the truest of that which you wish for can shine forth.

Last night I went to see Xavier Rudd, LIVE IN CONCERT! When I told Xavier that his aunty would put him to bed because mom and dad were going to see Xavier Rudd, "LIVE IN CONCERT," he replied: "LIVE IN CONCERT!? What? Xavier Rudd is REAL now? He came to our world? Holy granola bars!" (He's into making up expressions these days).

I wasn't sure which seats we had and had never been to the Myer Horowitz theatre before. We were in the 4th row along the edge. Before the show I made an intention to dance on stage at some point during the show. But you see, the thing is, it's less that I concsiously decided to make an intention and more that I realized the honest intention to do so was within my heart. I sort of knew beforehand that it would happen. I told Meshon, "I made the intention to dance on stage!" And he gently asked, "Will you be disappointed if you don't get to?" I quickly said, "No. I'm just going to be ready in case the moment comes."

Readiness. Willingness. Being ready for when the moment comes. The moment WILL come, if you are truly ready for it. So often we might think we want something but if we aren't wholeheartedly ready for that something, if we aren't fully prepared and genuinely open then it might not happen. I just danced on stage, it's not so huge. But it did take courage and openness. And also, awareness.

Xavier Rudd was playing "Let Me Be" when he called one beautiful young lady up on stage.

"Let Me Be" by Xavier Rudd

He kind of summoned her with a hand/finger gesture. Her boyfriend jumped up too and then the security guard took them off. The lovely long-haired beauty went back up and I was dancing away along the edge. Then Xavier Rudd look at me. His eyes said, "Do you want to come up here too?" I responded with my eyes, body and energy, "YES! I do. Thank you." His eyes then expressed, "Come on up then!" And we danced and danced and danced faster and faster and faster. A smile so huge upon my face that my top lip became stuck to my gums. I was working so hard that, by the time I was finished, my throat had that feeling of having exerted oneself to the point of making the lungs scream in painful ecstasy! (this may have been partly due to my nasty cough as well) Eventually the music slowed and we got down. It was a beautiful night and today I feel exactly as blissfully tired as one who has shattered everything through dance.

And I find myself wondering, how far can the power of pure intention take you? And will I be brave enough to follow the path that I know lies within me? "Please. Patience please. Patience please. I'm creating a dream."

I have a blog...but I don't write in it much anymore

Yes. It's true. I became a blogger and then faded away into non-bloggering. When I was in Moose Jaw I won an awesome t-shirt that says "peace" in a bunch of different languages and writing. It says shanti at the bottom. I said, "It's perfect because I have a blog called Shanti Shanna Lìmon...but I haven't written anything for ages."

So here I am. Writing. Blessed to be able to write and spell and use bad grammar and run-on sentences at will. To express soemthing in words, to express whatever it is I am expressing. Whatever it is you, dear reader, are finding to be meaning, perhaps, even, where there is none. But is there ever no meaning? Maybe. Is there always meaning? Maybe not. If one finds meaning then it is there, regardless of whether or not it was intended. So this leaves us with infinite possible meanings...leaving us where? Nowhere. And everywhere. All at the same time. This is a peaceful thought, no?

And so, I have begun my PhD and times are fun. I like learning. I love it. And languages! Theory. Beautiful humanities. So much less demand for objectivity. My French is improving daily. It is busy, yes. I am often rushing. Speed-reading. Multilingual classmates abound from all over the beautiful world. There is nothing I love more than hearing a Russian accent. I don't know why but I love it. It makes me feel so happy.

Blissed out on yoga. On meditating. Full moon. Sattva week-end. Strength sequence. Softening into strength. Fall is here. In the words of Xavier, "Don't know much about September. Feeling tender. Dead leaves on the ground. Dead leaves on the ground."

Love is my Intention

When we practice yoga we are often asked to set an intention before beginning, usually before chanting the mantra OM. Love is usually my intention. When asked what brought us to the Sattva teacher training with Rameen Peyrow, my intuitive answer was love. Then we were asked what, in one word, would be a barrier to that. I didn't know the answer then, but now I think I do. Judgement. Mother Theresa said, "When you judge people, you have no time to love them." Indeed. This applies especially to ourselves, I am learning. How many times each day do we judge ourselves in some way? And just how can we spread love and light if we haven't learned how to love our own selves? I do think it is easier to love others than to love oneself (I'm working on it).

We just finished doing a 2 month long cleanse. The diet restrictions were quite restrictive. But I feel really great. Of course, I had a few cheats along the way. Which brings up another quotation by a wise and wondrous woman, Indra Devi. She asked...damn, I can't find it anywhere. To sum up, she asked why, since the body is our most precious gift, would anyone choose to harm their body. Why? During the cleanse I self-sabotaged a few times. Nothing extreme but I ingested items that I knew would harm my body. Outside of cleansing I do this often. Maybe if I loved my body and my mind and my whole self then I would no longer intentionally harm myself. I don't know exactly why, as a woman, I don't always feel so beautiful and wondrous. Of course the obvious societal pressures and media influences aren't kind to women in general. I'm not sure the why is what matters; I think what matters is removing judgement and letting love fill the new space that is created in the absence of judgement.

After practice on Saturday a lovely, insightful and wittily brilliant woman told me, with utmost sincerity, that I was a beautiful woman. I got goosebumps. She said I was beautiful down to my bones. At that moment I believed here and I felt really solid. The following is a poem by Theodore Roethke; she said that I remind her of the woman:

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,
Or English poets who grew up on Greek
(I'd have them sing in a chorus, cheek to cheek).

How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin,
She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and Stand;
She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin;
I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand;
She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake,
Coming behind her for her pretty sake
(But what prodigious mowing we did make).

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose:
Her full lips pursed, the errant notes to seize;
She played it quick, she played it light and loose;
My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees;
Her several parts could keep a pure repose,
Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose
(She moved in circles, and those circles moved).

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:
I'm martyr to a motion not my own;
What's freedom for? To know eternity.
I swear she cast a shadow white as stone.
But who would count eternity in days?
These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:
(I measure time by how a body sways).


This compliment to me has given me confidence. I am so grateful for her gift to help me along my path to self-love and ultimately to love, love, love everywhere and all around.

Here's REM doing a cover of Love is All Around

Coffee dying: a table cloth turned darling

I purchased this table cloth from Goodwill some time ago. I had big plans for it, but it took ages to get around to my project.

First I made a giant pot full of strong black coffee. Meshon was aghast when he saw the amount of coffee I "wasted."

Then I put my table cloth in the sink with some salt and hot water (I think a plastic or glass container may have worked better. The stainless steel might have had something to do with the very slight colour change I ended up with).

And finally you simply dump the coffee in and let it sit for an hour or two. I ran the fabric through the rinse cycle after this because there were coffee grounds everywhere. Use a regular percolator style coffee to avoid coffee ground messiness and then just let it dry and you'll have a lovely vintage coloured garment/fabric!

I simply cut a hole in the middle of the table cloth, did some shirring http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shirring, sewed some lacy ribbon on and ended up with a super twirlable little dress. But the first time I tried it I had made it too big around the bust. So I shirred some more; now it's a little tight. Alas, we sew and learn.

Svadhyaya: Self-study, spiritual contemplation

I won a free t-shirt yesterday. I knew the fourth niyama (the yamas and the niyamas are ethical guidelines and are the first steps on the eight rung ladder of ashtanga yoga-not the series ashtanga). When my awesome yoga teacher, Ryan Leier http://ryanleier.com/, asked if anyone knew what the next niyama was I searched my brain and then remembered, svadhyaya. I said it out loud and he said, "You get a t-shirt!"

Then, I failed at satya or truthfulness (the second yama). I didn't say what I meant and I certainly didn't mean what I said. What I should have said is, "Yeay! I really want a shirt! Thanks so much!" Instead, I blurted out, "It's ok. I already have two shirts." This statement in itself is true, sort of. My sister has had both of them for a couple years and they're in rough shape. I would love a new Lion shirt! So then Ryan said that someone who wanted one and didn't have much cash could have it. Which totally makes sense, because I basically refused the prize. Why did I do this!? This problem began taking over my thoughts, my mind. Even within the class I didn't feel right about this play of events. I hadn't spoken truth. But I could make it good. I decided I would like Vinny, who had been my handstand partner, to have a shirt to commemorate his excitement and thrill at going upside down for the first time! Sweet. But when Ryan said to go get the shirt I didn't speak out and say I wanted Vinny to have it. I stayed silent. The guy who ended up with the shirt might be totally deserving of the awesome shirt. Again though, I didn't use my voice well.

So what can I learn from this experience? It's so obvious. The word I recalled, svadhyaya, self-study, led me to contemplate a deeply engrained habitual pattern I have, led me to take a deep look at myself (or at my tendencies, at least). As I get into myself I recognize that I don't like to take things from people. I'm more than happy to give but I don't always like to take. Learning to accept what comes graciously is a skill I hope to gain. As for satya, truthfulness, I'm not sure what to do. My treacherous tongue often speaks before I've taken the time necessary to discover what my truth is. Maybe practicing staying silent before speaking will help.

"And I say, can you say what you mean?And can you mean what you mean what you say?
And can you say what you mean?
And can you mean what you mean what you say?
And can you say what you mean?
Every single day? Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Reflections on Pain

"Life is PAIN, Highness. Anything who tells you differently is selling something." Wesley says this to Buttercup just before they tumble down the cliff and he yells, "AS YOU WISH" revealing his true identity. Pain. Is life pain?

I went to a yoga talk the other night and the subject of pain and suffering was brought up. It's funny. I was in such a joyous moment of my reality that I disregarded the topic a little. You know, thinking it didn't really apply to me. "Oh. I don't suffer. I'm so blessed!" It's true. I am blessed but I suffer too. And I feel pain. Ask anyone close to me how much I complain about by woes, aches and ailments.

I was reminded of this as I sat in meditation yesterday. We sat. And sat. And we sat for a really long time. I certainly have less pain than when I first began meditation. Or at least the pain takes longer before surfacing to rear its burning aching tingling head. Eventually the pain came. It is right under my right shoulder blade, deep deep inside me. I used to get annoyed at this particular pain, wishing it to leave me. Yesterday I realised that the pain was there for a reason. I did or am doing something to make this pain exist. This pain is teaching me something, teaching me to let go. Teaching me to heal. I allowed this pain to be and relaxed into the sensation. I even apologized to the pain for treating it so unjustly, as if it was the pain's own fault for existing. The result was profound. Had I been alone I would have wept uncontrollably. The pain was not gone today but we're getting to know each other better, and I'm being nicer to it now.

Today I had another familiar pain anyways, likely related to the shoulder tension. I awoke with a migraine coming on. I took a shower and an advil. The pain decreased and I headed off to yoga training. The pain never left me all day (except while I was pressing my shoulder blade tension into the corner of a wall) but I tried to relax in the sensation. As I walked home I had had enough. I contemplated phoning my sister to come get me (it would have taken her longer to get to me than it took me to walk home though). I was concentrating so hard on how much pain I was in, on how miserable I was when I realized, "If I stop concentrating so hard on this pain, if I breathe and experience the newly budding leaves on the trees, hear the birds sing, walk to the rhythm of life then I'll get home with much less suffering (and then I can take a hot shower in the dark after eating an advil)." This realization was useful. Even more interesting, perhaps, was the idea that was sparked by my realization about a possible purpose of pain. Perhaps, just perhaps, we have pain to help us learn one-pointed focus or concentration (dharana). I definitely focus on my pain when it's there. One almost cannot help but focus on pain. So pain teaches us concentration? And maybe how to choose when not to concentrate on something. I guess I'm trying to see the bright side of pain, in a way.

So I have some pain and suffering to think about. It does apply to me. Everything I learn and hear applies, is useful, is worthy of pondering (otherwise I wouldn't hear it, I suppose). It's no wonder that when I began reading Ursula K. Le Guin's The Dispossessed today at the bus stop, migraine in head, Shevek had this to say:

"Suffering is a misunderstanding[...]It exists. It's real. I can call it a misunderstanding but I can't pretend that it doesn't exist, or will ever cease to exist. Suffering is the condition on which we live. And when it comes, you know it. You know it as the truth. Of course it's right to cure diseases, to prevent hunger and injustice, as the social organism does. But no society can change the nature of existence. We can't prevent suffering. This pain and that pain, yes, but not Pain. A society can only relieve social suffering, unnecessary suffering. The rest remains. The root, the reality. All of us here are going to know grief; if we live fifty years, we'll have known pain for fifty years. And in the end we'll die. That's the condition we're born on. I'm afraid of life! There are times–I am very frightened. Any happiness seems trivial. And yet, I wonder if it isn't all a misunderstanding–this grasping after happiness, this fear of pain....If instead of fearing it and running from it, one could...get through it, go beyond it. There is something beyond it. It's the self that suffers, and there's a place where the self–ceases. I don't know how to say it. But I believe that the reality–the truth that I recognize in suffering as I don't in comfort and happiness–that the reality of pain is not pain. If you can get through it. If you can endure it all the way." (page 60-61-Perennial Classics ed. 2003)

Is there more truth in suffering? What is comfort and happiness anyways? Is it simply the absence of suffering? If you were truly free from suffering, how would you even recognize comfort? Is comfort not merely the absence of pain? I remember taking a very strong pain killer once when I had a migraine. I think it might have been demerol. My body had never in my life ever been so void of discomfort and has never been so free from pain since.

Is there a thread of beauty in pain? This is what Rameen says, that there is always a thread of beauty inside the pain. "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." (John Keats) So we've got beauty and truth in pain. But we want to chase our pain? Or do we want to let the pain teach us what it is we need to know?

Earthy Days

On Saturday, the day before Earth Day, we dug up our grass and planted a mini garden in our back yard. Xavier was a little concerned and asked, "But why are we digging up all the grass?" I explained that we couldn't eat grass so we might as well grow something we could eat. He was down with this idea but noted that if we were cows, we would be able to eat the grass. For some reason he was especially excited to plant some onions. Xavier is also very gentle and kind to the earthworms. He would pick them up from the dirt and say, "It's ok. I'll take care of you. I'll put you in this nice dirt over here." Then he'd watch them bury themselves again. I'm not sure what was wrong with the dirt he removed them from in the first place.

Great gardeners, these two guys:

Planting white daisies. They remind me of my Grandma. She used to let me pick the ones behind her house.

 Clump of dirt with an earth worm in it. Xavier kept saying, "I need another earthworm, dig me another clump!"

Planting seeds!

And I think the seeds will all germinate. We've had warmth and rain. I also planted some herbs in toilet paper rolls in a container. They're inside for now. My plan is to put them in a cloth shoe-holder like this one I saw posted somewhere online:

Hopefully my plan will work out. Time to water my toilet paper rolls and then head to bed!