Aham Prema; I am Love; I love all the fluffy animals; Dear little Mousey (a reflection poem)

I began my day yesterday with Day 4 of Deepak and Oprah's 21 day meditation challenge. It's fun to have the guidance and to learn some new sanskrit mantras. Yesterday's centering thought was: "I am love." It was a beautiful meditation. Healing tears flowed from my eyes. Afterwards, I felt the deepest gratitude for the Earth and all that she brings. Love. For all.

I left my house later that day. On the path to school I noticed the trees bountifully springing forth fruit...I noticed, was aware of...well, everything. The interconnection of all life, and also death. And it broke me a little. I wrote the following in my journal:

The tree produces fruit.

I don't even know if it is edible.

Survival. What have we become?

A crab apple by my feet.

This tree, I know, is filled with fruit so sweet!

But they fall to the ground.

Giving. Giving. Giving.

Taken for granted. Waste and rot.

I walked and thought.

The fresh taste of from here fruit vibrant on my tongue,

"Can I pick them for you? I will bake you a pie."

Then, from the corner of my eye.

Tiny mousey, "Why did you have to die?"

"Wee tim'rous beastie."

Not an upturned earth this time.

You look so peaceful, as though asleep.

Lying on your side, no marks show me why.

Poisoned?

By this fucked up society.

You so resemble the tiny friend

Who skittered near my green felt bag

While he sat with me.

I miss him.

And you.

Let me gently move you.

Beneath the warm decaying leaves.

Back to the earth

From whence...

You came. We came. All came.

To stardust and of it too.

You. I weep for you. 

Dear little mousey.

Robbie Burns wrote a very famous poem. I recall it here, in my own. In his work, the mousey isn't dead. But the poet, the Ploughman worries that the mouse won't be able to build a new nest before winter. "Man's dominion." How long will we let it break "nature's social union?" Here it is:

To a Mouse By Robert Burns On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785 Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie! Thou need na start awa sae hasty,           Wi’ bickerin brattle! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee           Wi’ murd’ring pattle! I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion Has broken Nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion,           Which makes thee startle, At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,           An’ fellow-mortal! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live! A daimen-icker in a thrave           ’S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,           An’ never miss ’t! Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin! It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,           O’ foggage green! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,           Baith snell an’ keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, An’ weary Winter comin fast, An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,           Thou thought to dwell, Till crash! the cruel coulter past           Out thro’ thy cell. That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble Has cost thee monie a weary nibble! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,           But house or hald, To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,           An’ cranreuch cauld! But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men           Gang aft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,           For promis’d joy! Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me! The present only toucheth thee: But Och! I backward cast my e’e,           On prospects drear! An’ forward tho’ I canna see,           I guess an’ fear!

"Can you teach me to meditate?"

The text message came to me one afternoon. A dear friend needing to make friends with her mind. My immediate reaction was one of profound responsibility. I have something to offer and when asked to teach, to share knowledge, I have heard it said, one should heed the call. But I was also struck by another profound thought: "meditation can't be taught." Now, this isn't exactly true. I texted back and said that I could come over later that night and share with her some of what I practice, some of what I know.

In the eight-limbed path of yoga, the tree that is called ashtanga, there is both dharana=concentration and dhyana=meditation. Before having a hope in hell of reaching an actual state of meditation (where the mind reaches an uninterrupted flow of concentration) most of us earthlings have much work to do. I recently was blessed to learn from Srivatsa Ramaswami and he explained that there are 5 stages of mind (as outlined in Patanjali's yoga sutra 1.32):

Stage 1: kshipta = "broken mind"
Stage 2: mudha = "infatuated with the outer world; slave to the senses, seeking always pleasure"
Stage 3: vikshipta = "distracted minds; some focus but multiple interests/distractions"
Stage 4: ekagra = "mind is able to remain focused on one thing for a long time"
Stage 5: nirodhah = "no distraction; no objects"

Most of us, he said, are somewhere between 3 and 4. So how to gain control of the mind? This has to do with energies, with gunas. The yamas and the niyamas are the first limbs in the system because they have to do with what we energetically allow into our bodies, into our energy fields. What we want, ultimately, is a sattvic state of mind SO THAT we will be able to meditate. Sattva is joy, peace, balance, equanimity, light. It is fresh healthy food and loving thoughts. It is living in the present moment and being aware of the vital force, of the love, that permeates all of life. The other two energies are tamas and rajas. Tamas is heavy, grounding and somewhat dull. It's fried chicken and alcohol; it's sleeping too much and feeling sad a lot. Rajas is fiery and energetic, if not agitated. It's spicy food and angry words. It's heat and excessive worrying. Don't get me wrong, all of the energies are present and necessary, but the work of one who wishes to meditate is to limit, to decrease tamas and rajas so that they can achieve a sattvic state of mind, which is the ultimate goal of yoga.

One of the interesting things that Ramaswami explained is that doing the asana practice, the physical postures, decreases rajas. A person with a very distracted, agitated, worried or quick mind should practice lots of asanas to prepare for meditation. The practice of pranayama is said to decrease tamas; a person who is depressed or down will benefit from doing more breathing techniques as they prepare for meditation. So, if you fall asleep in meditation, do more pranayama; if your mind won't stop racing, do more asana. Simple! (I love it when things have formulas and are simple).

I went to my friend's house and began by saying: "Meditation is not all bliss. And it's the hardest thing I've ever done. You might think that I am sitting here with my eyes closed, with my hands resting gently in my lap, tip of thumb and index lightly touching, at peace. After years of practice, I find peace at times. But in the beginning, it's hell. And it's hard. For me meditation physically hurts as blocked energy wells up beneath my shoulder blade, burning and screaming at me to let go. To open. To surrender." Well, maybe I didn't say ALL that but I did ask her not to get discouraged. And told her it was normal for the mind to race and that, once you notice the thoughts, simply let them pass by, without attaching any stories to them or following them up with subsequent triggered thoughts.

We started of with some asanas and then did some pranayama. I then led us through a loving kindness meditation where you send love to first yourself, then someone you love, then someone you have no real feelings for or against, and, finally, you send love to someone you have an issue with, to an enemy if you have one. After that we moved into our best attempts at "one-pointed focus" by repeating a mantra over and over silently in our heads. We used the mantra om but any mantra will work. I often use mantras when meditating but only recently realized the importance of sticking to one mantra. Ramaswami pointed out the importance of trying to stay with one practice for a period of time so that the progress is evident. Discipline. It's coming slowly for me. I'm starting to understand the kind of mental discipline required to achieve meditate. The other day I only strayed from the mantra 4 times in 12 minutes. That was good for me :)

I don't know if I succeeded in "teaching" my friend to meditate. The technique that will work for me most certainly won't be the best one for you. And, moreover, there is no one "way" to meditate. Meditation is more the product of intense practice and preparation than it is simply something most of us can sit down and achieve instantly. It is the marker of our progress, an indicator that the process, that the system of yoga, is working, and that the sattvic mind is achievable. Those moments of bliss, the tiny little glimpses of samadhi, where all separation falls away, rekindles the deep knowing that is within us all. Who am I? Why am I here? I do know, during those instants, and that knowing can't really leave, no matter how my ego flares up, no matter how messed I allow my mind to periodically become. Trust in that. Develop faith in that knowing. This is my work. And as Nahko and Medicine for the People sing: "The body talks and meditation helps." Yes. It most certainly helps. Even the scientists are in agreement now ;)

Freedom from facebook (?)

Yesterday, it was a Monday, at about 6:31pm, I impulsively decided that I would forego facebook for one entire week. I noticed that my tendency, when I have a few minutes of nothing planned to do, is to check facebook. The problem is that one can get lost there for more than the foreseen few minutes. And what more productive things could I be doing with my time? Don't get me wrong, I love facebook and enjoy sharing ideas, thoughts, music, Xavierisms...and I come across some really great and inspirational stuff from time to time.

But I have been wondering what facebook does to my ability to remain in this fabulous present tense. Quite some time ago I caught myself thinking: "That would be a great status update!" And then my brain began repeatedly producing such thoughts. Facebook made me develop a new thought pattern, a habit, a samskara if we want to use Sanskrit. Now, when something great/funny/inspirational happens, I almost immediately think to myself, "Hey! I should put that on facebook!" Consider how this affects my ability to live in the moment...right? Not good. But I am torn, because I do like facebook.

I have to admit that I have, since my declaration to abstain, checked facebook in order to communicate with my friend who is not entered in my new phone. Silly, I know. So I have to message with her on facebook until she texts me. I haven't posted and I try not to read the news feed...but I see the first few things. I feel like I am missing opportunities to express myself!

Hence, I write this silly blog post, which barely anyone will read because I won't "share" it on facebook. Which brings me to another issue: narcissism. I want to express myself. And I can write a blog or post things on facebook or twitter or instagram (woah! I just realized that I can get instagram now because my phone takes pictures!! yipeee!!) So now the world can see me again! Where is this need, this desire to be seen, to be heard, stemming from? Who the hell am I and does anyone really care what I have to say? I guess some people must because I do enjoy the expressions of others. Like anyone, some posts resonate more than others.

Why is that? I feel like we can only hear, only understand certain messages. Some we disagree with, some we like, some make us roll our eyes. But the same post that makes me roll my eyes makes another person jump for joy; the same post that changes my worldview makes another person shut down and get angry. I have been so incredibly in love with the band Nahko and Medicine for the People lately. I posted like five videos on my facebook wall. It appeared to me, based on the lack of likes and such, that nobody cared. The lyrics, the message, is of unity and equality, of love and interconnection. And the music itself is fucking awesome. So why doesn't everybody love it as much as I do? The answer is not simply that we all have different tastes. It's that we have different rhythms, frequencies. And some messages make some of us uncomfortable. In any case, "Time to increase my frequency!" (That's a line from this awesome song "Budding Trees").

There is a duck inside of you!

This morning was proving to be less than calm, less than peaceful, both in my mental landscape and in my surroundings. As I went about my morning getting ready routine I felt surges of excitement, anger, frustration; anything but peacefulness, nothing akin to certainty.

Don't get me wrong, I like uncertainty. It provides opportunity for growth and expansion, but it isn't always pleasant. I realized that Xavier was also feeling some emotions this morning as I entered the living room. He had been asked to get dressed, maybe even with some sternness at this point. He exclaimed, "Nothing is real! My dada is not real! My mama is not real! Not even I am real!" We are talking serious 5 year old existential crisis. I glanced around and noticed The Essential Rumi lying on the coffee table. As we have recently developed a habit of asking Rumi for help, I declared: "Wait! Let's see if Rumi can help us!"

I raise the book above my head, uniting with the wisdom therein and feeling where exactly to open the book. I even place my finger upon the page before reading whatever passage comes forth. And here is what we learned:

There is a duck inside of you.

Her bill is never still, searching through dry

and wet alike, like the robber in an empty house

cramming objects in his sack, pearls, chickpeas,

anything. Always thining, "There's no time!

I won't get another chance!"

A True Person is more calm and deliberate.

He or she doesn't worry about interruptions.

But that duck is so afraid of missing out

that it's lost all generosity, and frighteningly expanded

its capacity to take in food. (66)

It was perfect for me, as a message to reflect upon. And it was perfect for all of us, as we started laughing at the idea of having a duck inside of us and all began quacking, pecking and playing around!

On the road to becoming a "True Person," whatever that might mean, I will consider my actions more mindfully, more deliberately. I am often impulsive, maybe because I fear that I will miss out, that I won't get another chance. 

There is a duck inside of me. There is a duck inside of you? And together we might quack!

"What would you like to do if money were no object?" I would write.

According to my most favouritest blog these days, Brain Pickings, yesterday (Jan. 6) would have been Allan Watts' 99th birthday. I didn't previously know who Allan Watts was, though I certainly did see this video at some point in the last couple of years, whenever it went viral enough for me to click on it:

 

The video had a profound impact on me the first time I saw it, yet I was unwilling to admit the answer. What would you do if money were no object? I would write, by the sea. There would be a sacred space for movement and meditation, for conscious breathing. I would live near the ocean and would head out surfing whenever possible. A space for reflection, creativity and even healing. A retreat where others could come and find inspiration as well. Not just to write but to create.

You see, I have always written. My first story was written in French and published in a children's magazine called "Clin D'oeil." I think I was in grade 3 when I wrote about a young girl who ran away and was adopted by a wolf pack for the weekend. Indubitably, the Disney version of Kipling's The Jungle Book probably had something to do with my theme. The magazine gave me some kind of prize for writing that story and, if I recall, they wrote to me and asked me to write more stories. Even at that young age, I was already somehow stifled. I never did send them anything else.

I recently found many of the journals I have kept over the years. So many of my entries begin with phrases like, "I need to write." And then I proceed to write about how I should really be writing more. Countless ideas for stories, collections and poetry fill these journals. Unedited, half-finished poems litter the pages. Loose pieces of paper pregnant with possibility are tucked amidst them with the instruction: "Finish this!" 

But I haven't. You see, I know that I am a writer, but I am afraid that I am not necessarily a "good" writer. Perhaps I am finally nearing a period in my life where my daring, my courage will allow me to move past the fear of failure, of rejection to a place of abundant creativity. Letting go not only of the judgement that I anticipate from others, but letting go of my own self-judgement. It's time for me to be "daring enough to finish." 

"Daring Enough to Finish" (Rumi)--you didn't really think reveal my own poetry for judgement yet ;)

Face that lights my face, you spin

intelligence into these particles

I am. Your wind shivers my tree.

My mouth tastes sweet with your name

in it. You make my dance daring enough

to finish. No more timidity! Let

fruit fall and wind turn my roots up 

in the air, done with patient waiting.

Let your Love be like a Lighthouse

Tomorrow is Xavier's first day of kindergarten. He is excited. I'm excited too, and a little nervous for him. To be honest, I am not convinced that school will ultimately be good for him. I do think the kindergarten we have found for him will be awesome! But school in the traditional sense, I'm just not so sure. Luckily, Edmonton dos have a ton of really neat scholastic options.

When I was at Wanderlust I went to a speakeasy with MC Yogi. He told us parts of his story that day, the first time he had ever publicly shared aspects of his story. One thing that was really hard for him was being in school, and not because he isn't smart or disciplined enough but because it felt like prison to him. In short, school was a bad place for him to be.

When it came time for questions I sat quietly waiting to see if what I wanted to ask should really be asked. Then, at the end there was a moment and I knew I should ask my question. I wasn't sure how I would phrase it so I just started talking. I said something like, "I have a 5 year old son and he's very bright, he loves making music and singing song lyrics. You talked about your difficult experience with school and I guess, I'm...(choking up a little...deep breath) Hoooph. I guess I am more worried about it than I even knew. I'm worried about Xavier going to school and what it might do to him. So I don't know what my question is. Do you have anything, any insight you might share?"

He paused and said, "First of all, I see your love for your son and it is beautiful. Keep loving him like that. You see, you have to be the lighthouse. Your love is the lighthouse on the shore. His path will be whatever his path will be and all that you can do is love him with integrity, act with integrity. You don't want to go out there and try to guide him in because then nobody can find their way back. Let your love be solid and strong. Be the light so that when he needs you, he knows just where you are."

Woah. This is the only possible answer to what I was asking. Other people came up to me and said, "Have you thought of homeschooling?" I have. And then some who said they were worried too. Some who said try alternative schools. All kind suggestions but MC Yogi gave me the only TRUE answer possible. "His path will be what it will be. Your job is to love him unconditionally. And to act with integrity." Which points to the need to discover and to be my true authentic self.

Thank you so much MC Yogi <3 As Xavier partakes in his first day of kindergarten, I'll remember to always be his lighthouse, always shining for whenever he needs to come home.

"Where did she go?" Searching for the Self

It was Thursday night. I was tired and in a pretty negative head space. I had been reading Derrida's Of Grammatology, which I actually quite enjoyed, until I started discussing it with others. Hearing their interpretations, wondering if my own interpretations were wrong. Why should my interpretations be wrong? Why should their interpretations be either? A work, a text means what it means to you when you read it. The damage, the illumination, the propensity to question is already done upon ingesting the words. Of course you can change your mind, but better not to do so simply because of what another person says. Experience it for yourself, put what you have read to the test by searching deep deep inside...

That was a tiny rant. The post is to begin: It was a Thursday night and I was questioning my decision to take a 3 day yoga for kids teacher training. We needed a journal and I was looking everywhere for the one I was currently writing it. I couldn't find it anywhere but I found another one, one I had only written in once. The only entry began: "A fresh moleskin. I thought it was the old one. I was to work on my shadow poem that I had started. Xavier told me to write a poem about a little girl...maybe I should." So, on the night before my kids yoga teacher training I reread something, more of a musing than a poem, that I had written on February 20th, 2012.

Where did she go? I knew her once.
Deeply, wholly, truly, sweetly. I knew her.
Has she really gone or does she remain?
Somewhere in the depths of this me that has been constructed.
Constructed by me, my experiences, my reactions to the world around.
Life doesn't merely shape, it adds.
Layer upon layer while she sits quietly.
Unworried, unafraid beneath the heavy burden of "personality."
She waits, but wants nothing.

Once in a while she catches a glimpse,
sees the light through the time unlikely whole–
A tunnel through the mass of unreal, of imagined or of unimagined.
Sometimes Others can see her shine.
I see the light reflected back in me from their eyes.

To discover who you are, what you are, you must first dis-cover.
There is so much dis-covering to do.
Peeling back layer after layer, unrolling, de-velopping until all layers are removed.

To know who you are, begin by removing that which you are not.
It will sting, it will burn, it may even bleed.
Whatever is left in the end, whatever is revealed must be the answer.

She's in there. I know she is.
Wide eyed, the image of love and of truth.
That little girl, I will not lose her completely.
Indeed, to do so is impossible.
She will rule again, in this I trust.

When I reread those words I knew taking the training was in the cards (as they say). And (instead of 'but') I had no idea how transformative and how healing the kids yoga teacher training with Nicole Koleshis of Next Generation Yoga would be. Tears and oh so much laughter. Our inner children, the who we are at our core before life happened to us (often causing so much trauma along with the joy, often prompting so many walls to be built while still showing us the incredible beauty and love that is life) is really our inner Selves. Allowing your inner child to come out and play does so much more than show you some neat ways to engage children, it shows you how to move closer to living life as your authentic Self.

I sat in meditation on Saturday night after the second day of the training. My usual pain spot behind my right shoulder began to tingle. The tingling spread over my entire right shoulder, front and back, into my chest and then down my arm. It felt so healing, so good. And tears were coming followed by me observing in my body the experience of intense fear and inability to understand. You see, when I was about 2 years old I pulled a pot of boiling water (my nice little pot that I loved to play with) onto myself. I received third degree burns on my chest and right arm. I suspect that the scar tissue runs deep and I gained some insight into what that experience might have done to shape who I am, to form my outlook on the world. Not good, not bad-simply an insight into Self, some very useful svadhyaya (self-study).

I am deeply grateful to all the beautiful, fun, inspirational women who participated in the teacher training. And to our amazing teacher Nicole for helping us all to grow and to love ourselves a little more. "I am happy."