Maybe it's Not the Destination

Yesterday, I experienced my third talk and meditation with Buddhist monk, Bhante Sujatha. I was delighted he was able to allow time in his schedule to make a trip not only to South Central PA, but to my yoga studio. 

While Bhante's talk focused on the stress of the holidays, he naturally weaved in mindfulness and appreciation. 

Last night, instead of dreaming blissful dreams, my mind sorted through the stress of my day job. In the dream I was not at my day job, but at my yoga studio. I had gotten in early before my class and was enjoying a hot beverage on our balcony. Everything was peaceful. Bundled up in a coat, hat and gloves , I savored the moment. But, only for a moment. 

Soon, I was interrupted. This continued as I went from one person or problem to the next. I counted down the minutes left to make it to my class. Each step towards the classroom was another distraction from my purpose for being there. My mind was solely focused on how I would be late for my destination. 

Today, as I reflected on my dream, after another busy day at work, I realized something. We are all trying to get from point A to point B. Life always seems to get in the way though. Whether it is a goal or literally moving from one place or project to another, our daily to-do list is slowly replaced by other things. This leads to frustration and anxiety. So what if we look at things differently?

What if instead of viewing each of those interuptions as distractions from where we needed to get to, we instead think of them as little blessings? Each moment has it's purpose. Perhaps we are receiving a gift. Perhaps we are learning something we need to know along our journey. Maybe the person in our "way" really needs to be around our energy and we need to make time to appreciate, validate or give of ourselves. 

Bhante Sujatha spoke of how no matter what we have in life, we are always disappointed because of expectations. If we are able to let go of our expectations of how our life, goals, and daily schedule should look, we might just be able to appreciate what is coming into our lives at that very moment. It takes a little mindfulness and a lot of patience. But its like everything in life, like learning to ride a bicycle. 

We may fall. We may have to try multiple times before we are able to navigate on two wheels. However, one day, after many days of practice, it happens. We know how to ride that bike. We know how to appreciate each moment as a blessing enhancing our journey. 

Who Are You Really?

I was withdrawing on commenting on today's verdict in the Ferguson case because as a white person what could I say? I didn't feel like I had the right to say anything. This video however, moved me. 

I have known a different type of discrimination, but never to the severity African Americans have known in US history or abroad. I have been teased, bullied, and otherwise for being a woman. For being thin. For being motivated. For being different and poor. For my choice of jobs. However, again nothing that would remotely justify my ability to relate to racial issues. 

Growing up, when my father was drunk, he was a belligerent racist. I would cower in shame. One boy when I was young was not permitted to play with me because he was black. As a young adult, I was told I couldn't date another boy because he was biracial. 

What I found in these experiences was a profound deep lack of understanding and compassion. Not just on a race level, but a living being level. 

Today, while driving to work, I thought about how if there was one single thing I would want to achieve in this life, it would be equality of all living beings. A post on Facebook about a horrific action on an incident animal made me reaffirm this. 

While I listened to the latest Forbes magazine of the worth of famous actors and musicians, I reaffirmed this yet again. There is nothing in the world that can buy compassion, loving kindness and the courage to understand one another. 

Getting back to this video- it speaks of the need to go back to ourselves and discover who we truly are and not adopt the mantras and actions of our parents, grandparents and ancestors. It is up to us to discover our deepest selves. Who are you aside from your body, your job, your house? Who are YOU? 

Perhaps if we spent more time seeking that answer, we could see that all sentient beings are of value. We are all uniquely different and gloriously the same. We come from the same place. A place of grace. 

Watch with open ears and open eyes at one man's observation of what could happen if we were to let go of our fable of who we think we are. 

Peace and love to you and all those who seek equality. Let's start a new chapter in human history. 

http://youtu.be/BQgNrnWZVSI

Letting Go of Balance

I just thought this was so beautiful and true I just had to share.  Author, Elizabeth Gilbert, talks about how balance may not be the right concept to focus on during her time on Oprah's tour. 

I know for myself I was talking to someone a few months ago about trying to balance my job, my studio, my family, my writing, my personal time. I felt stuck in this tornado of imbalance and wanted someone to see for me of how I could better balance everything. 

Do you know what they told me? There is no balance. It's a misconception. 

Sometimes certain parts of our lives will take a bigger chunk of our time and attention - away from other things. And that's OK. 

What's important is that we are happy or at the very least, content, with where our energy is going. 

So, let's toss that notion of balance away. It's just a hot word of the decade, a fad to pass, an illusion that just makes life a little more crazy. Instead, let's look at what needs our attention at each moment and focus on that.  

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/6148472

Step Into the Light

So, I'm keeping it real. During my intuitive reading by an amazing and talented intuitive, I almost broke down crying. 

As I heard the pride of my father and my grandmother showing my book to others on the other side (surely Albanian Ya Ya's), I was expressing my pain for those who feel hurt by my story. 

It's not easy reading mistakes one has made on the page. There's embarrassment, self-loathing and disbelief.

However, despite some of my family's reservations my intention was always to help other people heal. It's been my life's journey to heal. 

Now, it's time to share so people know they are not alone. But here I was, holding tight onto the guilt of hurting others, I had no intention of hurting. 

And do you know what that beautiful woman told me today? She told me I was helping others heal. She told me that others "stuff" was not my own "stuff."  She told me to step into the light. She didn't even know that I knew my writing was inspired or that I knew it would help others. She just channeled that sucker right out of the ethers. 

So, before I stepped out of that room, I decided to step into the light. And you know what? I sold some books almost immediately. Then, I was tested within fifteen minutes, but I'm trying to keep in the light because that's the only way to live. Step out into the light today dear ones. And let yourself shine!

My Narcissistic Moment: What 7.125 Billion People Might Think of Me

Can I blame it on the partial solar eclipse? My emotions for the past week have been running high. I wasn't only worried about people knowing my choices in life. I had decided the reaction of those who would read my book. They wouldn't just be uncomfortable with my life's actions, but flat out offended by my "Sex and The City" like chapters on dating and my blunt NYC tongue. Oh how my mind can magically tell what someone would think before they read my words!

When I was young, my mother often told me I could not share what was going on in my life. So, naturally being young, I did the exact opposite telling everyone everything. As I grew into adulthood, I actually fell into the guidelines my mother set for me as a child. I became hyper private.

On top of that, I had been working for years on not worrying about what people thought about me. After all, everyone's entitled to their opinion and if I had to wait on 7.125 billion people learning to like me, I'd be waiting a very, very long time. I actually thought I mastered that whole part of letting go of what people thought about me thing. However, it is in those moments, when you think you have it down, that suddenly the universe goes "Really?" and gives you a test.

I told my friend today about my emotions running amok this week. I mean I'm telling you! Who's feelings did I hurt? Who did I offend? I was worried if someone at my temple read my book. This was not the one to read! My next one would be. I worried if any of the monks I knew would read it. I worried about what my family would think, my husband, my friends, my yoga students, my friends. In fact, I wondered what that one soul in Alaska or living in Wales (who was surely reading it), would have to say about me. My friend helped talk me down before being swept away in my emotional tornado. She was gracious enough to provide me with an "aha" moment.
This time, the universe did not conspire to trick me into facing the fact that I apparently have more work to do. My subconscious did. I had presented myself with the perfect opportunity to release my concerns and tell all. I could have written about meditation or perhaps have written a teen vampire fiction book. But no, I put my life to paper. While my conscious mind was excited and motivated by creativity, my subconscious mind plotted in secrecy. My friend pointed out my subconscious saw that need to kill two birds with one stone. I opened up to release my comfort zone of privacy. I also challenged myself to see if I could release my concern (and predetermination of others points of view).

So, needless to say, this week I have been floundering. However, I now am aware of where I can continue to grow. It doesn't mean that I'll master my flaws by tomorrow. It just means I'm a work in progress and that's O.K. Plus, who's got time to be a narcissist?

"I think we are all hopelessly flawed," Friedrich, Little Women

Who Am I?

"What in your life is ready to change, but you don't know how it is going to happen," were some of the opening words that author, Charles Eisenstein, shared at his talk during last week's Women of Intention gathering.

I saw a post on Facebook a few weeks ago about Eisenstein being the guest speaker at this monthly gathering. Casually I have spoken with Eisenstein at a book signing, and at a potluck at his home at the invitation of his wife. I felt compelled, drawn to go to this talk, though I did not know why. After coming back late from Canada the night before, working all day, and teaching a meditation class right before his talk, I sat in my seat, notebook and pen in hand ready to listen. The books of this humble Yale graduate  hold powerful words about the personal, social and economic transitions we are upon. I had no idea what the talk would be about, but I was ready.

Eisenstein said that a change is happening where the "mythology of ourselves" (such as Who Am I?) is becoming obsolete.

"Our old story told us who we were," said Eisenstein. He shared that perhaps we don't know who we are anymore because our story has changed; we are in the middle of our stories. Our lives are used to the pattern of planning and attempting to control reality outside of ourselves. Now, we are being called to let go of that old habit. In that space, we may find moments of change without knowing where it came from.

My daughter who is ready to submit college applications, has said she wished she had a book of answers. Something where she could pick her own adventure and flip to the back of the book, check out the outcome of her decision and only then decide if she truly should take that path. I laughed thinking of Eisenstein's words. If we don't know our story, how do we live life?

Recently, I watched Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love on Oprah's Super Soul Sunday. She talked about the "hero's journey." In most mythology, there is a common story of how a hero develops. The start of a journey. Denial of new role. Acceptance of new role. Trials. Overcoming obstacles. However, according to Gilbert, women didn't have these stories. The heroes of fiction and history were men. Now women are looking to create their own heroes journey outside of the traditional role of women in those stories - married, mother, waiting for the hero to return home. Now she wants to be the hero and she is looking for her own quest.

We are standing in the middle of a shifting dynamic. Our lives were never completely predictable in the past. We were always at the mercy of the chaos that lives in the unmeasurable outcomes of each decision we make. Now it seems, we are ready to start learning how to let go, and live like a fish in the ocean, moving with the tide to get where we are meant to be.

The New Road Ahead

A friend asked me this evening if I was excited about my upcoming book. I told her I frankly was scared. My life will be out there. My fear, my pain, my joys. All of it will be out there to be reviewed, criticized, and analyzed. 

For someone who grew up in NYC where you pretend to have privacy and not notice your neighbor, and growing up in a home that said not to tell anyone your life, it goes against the fabric of my nurturing. However, my nature is as a writer, a healer, to share my story and perhaps let people know that no matter how difficult life is, you can have a beautiful life! You can succeed. 

Coming home and seeing this article tonight was so timely. It reminded me that life prepared me for this moment. Not just the trials of a warrior or the skills to write it, or market a book, but prepared me for my so-called "coming out." 

It's time to share my joys, silly ambitions, my stories of chasing love, connecting to the unknown and frankly starting to make peace with God. I'm ready for my upcoming trial. I hope you will be there holding my hand, giving me hugs and reminding me that I can do this. That I can step out into the world, emotionally naked, and succeed in my newest journey.

Elizabeth Gilbert On The Ugly Truth About Following Your Passion

Murphy's Law

I discovered a few days ago we are heading into another Mercury Retrograde which will last pretty much the span of October. Mercury always has a grand entrance starting a few days beforehand as it slows down. Things start to go awry and we are left wondering why (more like "why me?"). We discover why quickly. 

Mercury Retrograde also ends with a superb finale leaving you shaking in the corner as you spent the month correcting misunderstandings and a multitude of electronics that mysteriously stopped working. 

Yesterday, I heard the phrase "Murphy's Law" three times. This saying relates not just to my maiden name, but to the thought that everything that could go wrong, will. So, naturally I shuddered at the thought that my October would be faced with this theme. 

How much effect can we have on the inevitable astrological tug? Lots! Here are five ways to ride out the month. 

1) To survive the month retaining your sanity, start to recognize that it will just be complicated.

2) Use your yogic breath and meditation to keep you grounded remembering it's really all small potatoes in the scheme of a lifetime. 

3) Stay indoors! If you're an introvert like me, you're already doing this. Good job! If you're an extrovert, good luck to you. Join the masses using loving kindness techniques recognizing that we are all trying to do the best we can. Fill your heart with compassion. 

4) Your thoughts and emotions have power. Your intention is one of your strongest tools. Keep your thoughts positive and watch this month go by smoothly. 

5) Go with the flow. This may not be the best month to dig your heels in. Stay true to your intuition. 

Remember, it's Mercury Retrograde. When it comes to your work on a computer or tablet, save early and save often! 

What Labor Day Really is

For many, Labor Day is filled with BBQ's and gatherings with family and friends. For others, a quiet day at home with fireworks to follow in the evening. To kids, a day off of school. Labor Day is also one of the biggest shopping days of the year.

Leading up to Labor Day, commercials from a wide variety of retailers talk up their sales. Mattresses on sale. Furniture prices cut in half. Get your back to school supplies now. Take up a retailer on their offer of 30% off fall/winter clothing. According to wikipedia, the retail industry makes "up 24% of all jobs in the United States." This means that almost a quarter of Americans are working today. Which brings us to-what is Labor Day?

Without going too much into the history of Labor Day, it celebrates the hard work and accomplishments of our workers. We as a country, have struggled through long work hours, poor wages, child labor, and unsafe working conditions. While we can say many of these still exist in one form or another today, they are by far drastically different than what they were more than one hundred years ago.

Photo courtesy of attackthestacks.wordpress.com

As a country, we are by far luckier than most. Globally, we really don't have much to complain about. However, if we review what today is meant to be, it is ironic that we celebrate by shopping, keeping others working on the day we are meant to enjoy as a celebration of what we do all year round.

I myself am guilty of this. Yesterday I was making plans on going to a home improvement store to pick up painting supplies. This morning, realizing the scope of what today means, I knew that I could not do that. On one hand, it is one of my days off of work this week and I need to get stuff done. On the other hand, I realized I could not participate in today's shopping extravaganza. Being compared to Black Friday, I thought of the people who work on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve so we could buy more things. How many of us are loosing our traditional Sunday off, while others work from home, even when they clock out of the office.

Sometimes, it just takes a moment to pause and think of our community. We often forget what holidays can mean to others. Today, while I am fortunate enough to have a day off, many fellow Americans are working longer than normal hours at minimum wage to give me an opportunity to buy things to support corporate America. I think today I'll enjoy staying home, seeing friends and family, and appreciate what Labor Day is suppose to mean. Tomorrow is back to the grind. And I won't have another hurrah until next year.

The Healing Nature of Animals

The other evening, I woke to my cat Phineas snuggled between my husband and I. Pressed into my left side, curved into my underarm, I closed my eyes. This was unusual behavior for him, as he usually sleeps by my feet. A few moments later, I opened my eyes to a ball of white light hoovering above the left side of my body. Phineas was doing healing work on me.

This orange cat of mine was a homeless cat up until a few years ago. My mother had found him outside in her yard feasting on Purina that she left for the other homeless cats and hungry squirrels, possums and birds. She noticed that unlike many of the cats she met over the years, he was extremely friendly and simply wanted love. She brought him into her home, but with so many cats of her own, could not keep another indoor cat.

I'm a sucker for helping animals. All of our pets are rescues. At the time we had three dogs and three cats. Still, when she said he needed a home, I couldn't say no. She called him "Buttons." I looked at him, and said "He's Phineas." I had no idea what led me to that name. I tend to listen for their names.

He adjusted to our household immediately as if he always lived here. He didn't run and hide. He wasn't tentative with laying on the couch or asking for food along with the dogs. He waits with them each morning to share their breakfast (after he eats his own, of course). Even our senior cat, Bella, who didn't get along with the other cats and only tolerated the dogs because they kept away the cats, grew to like being around him. He stayed with her until she breathed her final breath in our bedroom.

My husband calls him a dog. I call him a cat. He goes between the feline and canine species in our house with ease. He plays and rubs against the cats. He let's our shih tzu, Charlie, give him hair styles and clean him thoroughly. He shares our bed with our Yorkie, Teddy, who is quiet particular with who is allowed on the bed.

As I closed my eyes once again, I felt a presence on my right side. At first, I started to feel my heart pumping, my hair stand up on end. My veins were tingling with the sensation that someone from the other side was here. I was about to try to send them away as I do in the middle of the night, when I get scared in the dark. Instead, I said to myself "screw it," which isn't the nicest thing to say when you have a visitor. That being, of which I could not see more than an outline of a thin person, joined Phineas in working on me. I did not know what could be wrong with me, and instead of focusing on that, I spent a moment in gratitude for their gift

After I dozed back to sleep, I instinctively awoke when the process was complete. Phineas turned over, started to kneed my underarm, but drew back. It's as if he knew that his little cat claws would pinch into my skin. He paused, then started to do a kneeding-like press with his claws drawn in. A few moments later, he stopped and turned to move away.

As a reiki practitioner, I am amazed at the wonders healing energy can do for a person. To see my cat in the middle of the night giving me such a gift was awe-inspiring and humbling. Animals have such intuitive abilities to sense human emotions, physical issues, the world around them. As humans, we draw away from the connection that runs through all beings, plants, trees, life. Perhaps, if we could close our eyes and see with our heart, our vision would be much clearer.

Many of us with pets can attest to the joy they bring into our lives. They are not pets, they are family. For me, I am blessed to have had the awesome experience of seeing the essence of our furry family beyond what my two eyes could see. And Phineas, whose name in Hebrew means "oracle," showed me how.

Story

When we were children we were enamored by the stories our parents would read to us. We imagined ourselves in these fables being princesses and warriors. As we grow up, we may still continue to get lost in the written word, a film or a story someone else shares about an experience. We are beings consumed by stories.

A friend of mine, Ms. Cuba, is a teacher of storytelling and drama. She moves children into unfolding a fable, creating their own and understanding them.  Ms. Cuba, like everyone asks me about her future. My answer used to be "it is based on your decisions."

A few years ago I focused on a quote from Kundalini yoga teacher, Yogi Bhajan, where he said our life is a journey; we are living it, creating it every moment. So, why are we always wondering where we are going when we are unfolding our journey at every turn?

Last year a chiropractor introduced me to his term for people's journey, for their quest for their future-"story." At first I was taken aback, put it in my pocket, and forgot about it. What is someone's story? The more Walter and I spoke, the more I became entranced by his concept of someone's story. To him, these twists and turns we take are part of our story. When we fall, when we get a scrape and get confused which way to go, it is all part of our story. We are all Snow White lost in the forest, finding friends in unusual places and pursuing a dream.

I have always been fascinated with people's "stories"-where they've been, what they have seen, things they've done. My in-laws backpacked through India and Iran. My mother had an arranged marriage. My husband's co-worker would steal neighbor's farm animals to play with (with her mother constantly having to return the chickens, goats and dogs to her neighbors). All of these actions and moments peaked my interest leading me to think each time "Do people know this about you?  People should know this!" Still in these moments, I never connected their experiences to the story of their lives. They were still interesting moments.  People were fascinating. I felt that everyone should be sharing more about themselves.

If anyone asked me a year ago what I thought about my life, I would have said boring! Maybe not to you, but to me. While I was always creating and moving, it was hum drum. Same old. The most interesting parts of me were about my three major experiences early in life.  One - I was in a bank robbery when I was around two years old in Manhattan, my mother telling me to be quiet so we didn't get shot. Two-I was in a coma due to an inner ear infection (around the same age) and came out of it when a family friend and babysitter sat with me praying all night. Three-I shook the hand of a former pope-Pope John Paul II when I was a little child.

Sure, I had other interesting moments in my life, but these three things, two of which I could not remember, were the highlights of who I was.  These were my stories I could fascinate people with. 

Walter changed my thinking. What if our lives, our journey that we are on each day, was our story?  Whole and complete. Not just a moment in time. Not the funny story of a water balloon exploding or meeting someone famous. Not just the time we went sky diving or ran a 5k. What if the accumulation of our lives was our story? What would that mean?

Photography by Poras Chaudhary

Our future is not yet written. Isn't that an old adage? And yet we seek our future, the end to our book. If the book is written, then the last phrase would be "The End."  Do we really want "The End" just yet. Or could we possibly still fill a few more pages, adding to our story, who we are. We are all unique individuals creating our story every day. That is our immortality. Who we are, right there in the pages of our lives. We create, we share, we co-create.  People we know are characters in our story influencing who we are and how we grow. 

In The Muppet Movie, we are left at the finale without a typical ending.  I personally love that little ribbon tied at the end of every film. Give me the obvious. Instead, the muppets tell Lou Lord they came to Hollywood to be "rich and famous." Mr. Lord tells his secretary to "prepare the standard rich and famous contract for Kermit and company."  The muppets move onto the sound stage where in the making of their film, accidentally tear it apart.

What happened? They were given the contract. They tried to make a movie. Did they get kicked out? The film ends with the muppets watching their film. No one else attends. No red carpet. We know they become famous because they had a television show I watched as a child and subsequent films. However, in the moment of our lives where we are challenged, we can't see our own successes, of where our disasters may take us. We also don't see how we influence other people.

As a writer, I am known for tossing much of my work into the electronic recycle bin of my computer. My husband told me when he worked at a distribution center for artists in Toronto, the artists would call to ask for their earlier works to be destroyed. "I don't want anyone to see the crap I made when I was younger," they would say as their skills grew. My husband would reply "Don't you want people to see how you grew as an artist? Don't you think it would make budding artists realize that everyone started somewhere?" But his replies fell on deaf ears like it did with me as I deleted my files and emptied my recycle bin.

How often do we see artists, cooks, scientists influenced by another's creation. French filmmaker, Michel Gondry's Bachelorette cycling a story like in The Muppet Movie. Kushari, an Egyptian dish of lentils with rice and elbow noodles with its Italian and Asian influence. Thai Yoga drawing in energy points and body movement from India and Tibet.

What if we kept the good, the bad, the rough starts and the undiscovered masterpieces of our decisions? Would that show everyone how life has its bumps, nudges and hills, but as a person we forge ahead? 

Kermit sings "life's like a movie, write your own ending." Today, I start to think of my life as whole. I am writing my journey every day. Each piece. Each word. Each thought. Each action. Part of the story of me.

A Community on Social Media

A few months ago I was ready to stop reading the newsfeed on Facebook because everything seemed depressing, angry and bitter. HOWEVER...with all of the commotion around the world getting ramped up (Gaza, Iraq, Ukraine, Ebola virus-already on top of turmoil in Egypt, Thailand, etc.), it seems like everyone's posts (both people & pages) have turned into inspiration! I've seen more videos of human and animal compassion in the past few weeks than in years. I've seen people sharing more touching & inspirational stories (I'm talking more than just cat videos). 

HONY (Humans of New York) has turned into the best reporting and support group for various places in Africa & Iraq. They are reflecting the lives and thoughts of real people. It's amazing how we've turned into supporters on social media, being grateful for our gifts, becoming vessels of compassion. 

My husband and I are movie fanatics. I grew up acting and he went to school for cinematography and worked on indie films, and television shows. So, we get into these philosophical talks about film. After the Vietnam War, people needed a relief from the years of tragedy. Star Wars was such a success because people needed the dream of something else. 

This past week, instead of a movie, we've turned to each other. I know I needed to see these moments to know we can see and have compassion for all living beings. So, thank you!

Sitting on the Sidelines of Depression

Last night as my family watched The Fisher King in the family room, while I sat in my bedroom. I could not bring myself to watch the movie. While it was their ode to Robin Williams, I was in a different place. Sitting in-between anger and sadness, my heart asked for time to process the latest news of his passing. He committed suicide. 

I did not know the man. I never even glimpsed him while on a movie set before. I was only, like many, a fan of his work. He inspired me as a child in Mrs. Doubtfire, annoyed me in Mork and Mindy, memorized me in What Dreams May Come. Even now as I write this, I am conflicted. Am I riding the Robin Williams trend? Shouldn't I be working on writing something else? This, however, is where my heart is at the moment. Perhaps here I can find some healing.

The conflict running through me is not around the shock of his suicide, but rather, on the suicide itself. It brings back the memory of a friend who killed himself when just starting adult life. It brings back my brother's best friend who killed himself in his twenties. It brings me back to the funeral service I sat through with my teenage daughter trying to bring her peace even when her peer killed herself. It brings back my brother's attempts at ending his life, and my mother saying endlessly she didn't want to live anymore. It brings me back to conversations with an overdosed family member who said she didn't want to live anymore, and with another who already had rope in the woods waiting for the perfect day. All of those suicides, attempts, plans, heart aching moments, came flooding back.

The trends online are not only spiking about Robin Williams death, but about his "battle with depression." Battle. It's an interesting word. Wikipedia defines battle as "Generally, a battle is a conceptual component in the hierarchy of combat in warfare between two or more armed forces, or combatants. A war sometimes consists of many battles. Battles generally are well defined in duration, area, and force commitment.[1]" If the depressed are one side, who is the other? 

<sup>A battle with depression would signify that the depressed is fighting the faceless state of depression. However, according to Wikipedia, it can be "two or more." So, I say, there is a third. The family, friends and loved ones who are present during the fight. We show empathy, concern, anger, frustration, and retreat into our own mini bouts of depression as we deal with the battle, too. However, it is a battle we are not in the middle of. We are like the weapons provider trying to sneak in ammunition in the middle of the night, figuring out peace deals and trade embargoes. We are not on the streets fighting. We cannot see the bombs launched, the triggers pulled. We only see the aftermath of each warring moment. 

My husband, until recently, was on an antidepressants since he was a teenager. My mother was diagnosed with manic-depression when I was a teenager. My brother also inherited the trait. I saw my mother on Prozac not leveling out, but rather like a roller coaster from one emotion to the next. Do you know what happens to those who are on the outside? We are left behind. 

While the battle ensues, we, the peacekeepers, the arms dealers, are left outside of the wall, not knowing what the end of the current slaughter will look like. We are isolated. We cannot move ahead with our lives because we are so caught up in helping. We feel guilty for leaving the room, for going to work, for laughing. My mother used to tell me as a child, Don't laugh because you will cry. And walking on those pins and needles is just like what my mother said.</sup>

And it is in this point in the story where the depressed, losing their own internal battle with self-love, seeing the ones around them also melting away, that they feel it would be better not to be around. Life is too hard. My loved ones are suffering. It would be better if I wasn't here. That's when I get angry.  War isn't about two sides fighting. It is also about the survivors. Whether the opposing offenses survive or perish, we are the ones left behind. We have to pick up the pieces. It's when I want to shout You are selfish! But I don't. I understand their pain. We can all relate to intense, merciless heartache.

<sup>A wise young woman told me recently that it's tough climbing out of depression. It is like a good friend. It takes work to try something different, but it is easier to stay in the comfort of sadness. I think we can all relate to staying in an unhealthy relationship or pattern because we understand it. We know what happens next. But I cannot help but think about the turmoil I watched as a child of an abusive home. My mother told me after she left, she should have left sooner. 

I am not a sufferer of depression. Occasionally, I'll have bouts. They may last minutes, hours, days, even weeks, but then it's over. I remember the sun is still shining. I count my blessings. And then, I'm back to bouncing around like me like nothing ever happened. Those I love who live with this debilitating issue cannot readily do that. In my nature of wanting to save others, I want to butt in and say have you tried meditation, Holy Basil, yoga, running, painting, anything? When I was in my twenties, I thought I could easily fix the world by tying people up in a chair and talking reason to them until they understood. I was never given the chance, and with age realize that it wouldn't work. My will is not the will of others. 

We are all born into this life alone. We die alone. We, however, are never on this journey alone. Not even one of us. We cannot go anywhere in this world where we are isolated from each other, a tree, a bird or other animal.</sup> 

Standing helplessly by those who suffer, what can I do? It seems that all I can say is this: You are loved. You are safe. You are held deeply in the arms of those who love you, even when you don't realize it. And when, and if, you are ready, I am here to help you fly once again.

Courtesy of http://lakeandhomes.com/

Letting Go of Labels

A few weeks ago I shared with my yoga class a story from Thich Nhat Hahn's Being Peace book. The story follows Siddhartha, the Buddha, when he was a monk searching for enlightenment. Living with other monks outside, they meagerly lived on one piece of fruit a day. He one day knew his body needed more, but was too weak to make it to the village to get food. A woman came to him giving him milk. He started to feel better, kindly asking her to bring him rice and milk daily.

The other monks saw Siddhartha partaking in rice and milk and thought him to be weak. If he was going to indulge in food, how could he reach enlightenment? Many spiritual seekers pair down their daily intake to minimal food, trying to reach spiritual bliss through meditation, forgoing the pleasures of the world. His monk friends felt his actions were a betrayal of his decision for spiritual advancement. Needless to say, they left him.

How often do we place labels on people believing that they can only be "this" if they are "that" way? In our minds, we design elaborate stories of how people or groups of people should be. A yoga teacher should be the healthiest person we know, doing yoga even in their sleep. A Nutritionist should never indulge in a piece of chocolate or sugary drink. A monk should not have a cell phone. A runner shouldn't smoke. A doctor should eat healthier foods. A teenage singer should be pure and modest. A chef should be the cook at home. Labels.

Instead of realizing the labels we place on people, when we discover something

that was not part of our imaginary way of life someone should live, we judge. In our minds, they have fallen from a pedestal they did not know they were on, perhaps the same one we put our parents on when we were children. As we grew older, we saw our parents as people with flaws, issues we didn't see when we were young thinking of them as omnipotent demi gods. As we get older, we may finally see them as human beings. Human beings are what we are.

Thousands of years ago, yogis believed you could only achieve bliss by letting go of the body. They body had a host of it's own issues and was not important as you left it here on earth when you died. 

Eventually through the Hatha Yoga Pradipka, asanas were said to be as important as the mind exercises. Having human bodies, we must eat. We must exercise. We must take care of this vehicle we are given. Sometimes it seems, we take better care of our cars than we do our bodies. We take better care of our homes than we do our planet.

When someone judges us for a certain behaviour or action, we may instantly get defensive. We think How dare that person accuse me or judge me? We don't want to be labeled or judged, no more than anyone else.

Maybe part of our suffering can be lifted if we only start to drop our labels - for ourselves, for others, for the world around us. Perhaps if we let go of expectations, thus not having the let down of them not being fulfilled, we may find a little more happiness. From letting go, we may see with our heart instead, finding that compassion that everyone seems to need.

Hand-Made Spirituality: Seeing Through these First Nations Eyes

As I walked along downtown Ottawa last week, headed to the Byward Market, I stumbled upon a delight. Encased in tall wire fencing typically seen in construction areas, an Algonquin man named Paul, and an Ojibwe woman, showcased the lifestyle of First Nations ancestors.

As I walked through the opening, my eyes lifted to a tall tipi built on concrete city streets. Wrapped in white thick cloth, the tipi almost towered the permanent totem pole across the street.

“We start with three sticks, tie them together and then add another stick. We tie that together and then then continue adding one stick at a time, tying each one,” said Paul on the construction of the tipi. Above the entrance hung a hand drum with a black outline of the sun's rays. Inside the sun was a duck flapping its wings in water. Paul crafted hand drums.

He showed me how he used branches of the ash tree. This pliable wood was soaked in water until the wood separated into sections. If you needed the wood to be thinner, you would use a hand made mallet, with a rock strung to the top, to pound the wood and then soak it back in the water. When the wood strips were thin enough, you peeled a section and bent it into a circle. This was the rim of the hand drum. Hide was then used for the cover.

These pieces of soaked wood had many uses including basket making, snow shoes, wares, and more. He also used the wood along with cedar and more to form his nation's hut – a wigwam. While a tipi is spectacular in size, a wigwam is a mind-bending, wood-bending feat. Wood and hide are made pliable through techniques developed over hundreds of years. While a tipi would take Paul only forty-five minutes to assemble, this oval shaped house would take longer. While a tipi was easier to take down and transport, a wigwam would be far more difficult to disassemble and travel with.

The goal of this duo was to promote an upcoming First Nations celebration and keep their cultures alive through education.

“We travel all over the world teaching people. I try to gather supplies where I am going so I don't have to take them with me.”

Keeping their traditions alive is important not only among their own people, but to share the remarkable beauty of the First Nations with everyone. They teach children. They mesmerize adults. They hold workshops on how to craft these magnificently complex structures and essentials using what grows in nature. The spiritual aspect, however, is kept sacred. It is kept private. “That is only for us.”

I myself have had a draw to Native cultures. I have past life memories even. I have searched for, yearned for, and prayed for learning about the spiritual practices of these cultures. However, very few it seems are willing to share. In my youth, I may not have accepted Paul's answer. However, that overcast day standing with him on the middle of the street, I understood.

Last night, I read an interpretation by Swami Satchidanada on a slokah in his book, The Living Gita. He shared a story about a man who went to a roshi (teacher) to learn. The roshi poured tea into a cup, continuing even after it flowed over. The roshi  said how when one's cup is full, one cannot accept any teaching. One needed to be an empty vessel for knowledge to be poured into.

Perhaps my cup was empty that day. I easily accepted what Paul shared. It was not my place to ask for more, to tap into their sacred beliefs that they needed to keep within their culture. After all, here they were, giving of themselves freely to share the history and skills of their people. Paul said he was a simple man who worked with his hands. I believe he is much more than that. He is a humble teacher.

My husband recently shared how ethnic tourism is a latest growing trend. People flock to various cultures to see their history, how their food was cooked like pouring vegetables into bamboo sticks and steaming them over an open fire. Cultures wanting to pass their knowledge on, to keep themselves alive in history, have found willing students. And while these students may been looking at first glance at the entertainment of it all, these cultures know that they will go back home and share their stories. About how one tribe learned how to steam food in the bamboo around them. About how another one made pottery by hand and inscribed their life story into the pot. About how another one learned to sew from her grandmother who was taught by her grandmother and so on.

The power of sharing life skills is spiritual in itself. We see the working hands of Paul make a hand drum that echoes the sound of someones heart beat. 

Tonglen Meditation: Walking Through the Fire for Compassion

When it comes to meditating on compassion for others, we often think of the Metta Meditation, also known as Loving Kindness Meditation. In this meditation, we focus one by one on a respected person we know, a loved one, a neutral person we do not know well, and a person that challenges us. In our meditation, we focus on sending that person loving, compassionate thoughts and energy. Mantras used are “May you be happy. May you be well. May you be safe. May you be peaceful and at ease.” The object of the words changes as you move through the meditation.

Similarly, the mantra Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu - “May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all,” does the same by wishing all beings everywhere happiness and peace. This mantra can also be used in meditation.

In Wednesday's meditation class, we practiced another compassionate inducing meditation – Tonglen. In Tonglen, we receive and send loving-kindness. This practice, used in Tibetan Buddhism and practiced by His Holiness, The Dalai Lama, taps into the bodhicitta (the enlightened mind).

Tonglen can seem like burning in a fire opposed to the light feeling that arises in a typical Loving Kindness Meditation. The practice takes on the suffering of ourselves and others to transform it into something beautifully powerful. To practice one moves through the following steps:

• Begin by focusing on the breath, bringing all mindfulness to the breath
• Feel comfortable in the space you are in, feeling protected and safe
• Bring your awareness to your bodhicitta (the enlightened mind) – you do not need to understand what it is, but become aware of a lightness that lives inside of you, aware and wise beyond your rational mind. Find peace in this feeling.
• Next breathe in smoke or darkness and exhale light and joy. You become a recycling machine for converting energy.
• You then focus on yourself. Feel any painful memories or emotions you have. As you exhale, you send yourself compassion.
• Then move your thoughts to someone you feel challenged by, past or present. Breathe in knowing they suffer. Exhale sending them compassion and love. You can even, without too much thought, think of what they need not to suffer, and exhale sending it to them.
• You may move onto doing this for several others if you choose.
• Next, you bring your awareness back to your breath until your mind fills with thoughts.
• Finally, you take deep refreshing, cleansing breaths in and out.

Like other meditations, the words and practice can vary, but the concept is the same. Transforming pain to loving, compassion. Many people find difficulty in “praying” for those that hurt them. Instead, they would rather that person feel pain and suffering. However, pain only begets pain whereas love begets love.

This healing technique is in direct contradiction to what many energy healers would practice. Many healers I know would avoid “taking on” the pain of others. They would do a ritual to protect themselves from absorbing the “stuff” others carry with them.

Several years ago, I met such a practitioner who literally yelled at me for the way I did my Reiki sessions. Because of my empathic nature, I can feel the hurt in others. I would draw this out of them through me and then visualize myself putting it into a magical trashcan in the stars where the universe could recycle it for me. I was told this was wrong. I needed to protect myself. Needless to say, I never listened.

Once at a festival in southern York County, a woman came to me to my tent where I was offering Reiki. “Would you do Reiki on me?” she asked desperately.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Are you sure? Would you do Reiki for me?” she asked again.

“Of course!”

“Feel me first and tell me,” she said implying I tune into her energy. It was intense, but that didn't mean anything to me in terms of declining. It was her energy. Every person is different.

After telling her yes once more, she told me how she had a near death experience that made her energy very intense. She was once a “regular” person and now could communicate with the other side and angels. A booth just yards from where I was at the festival had declined her because of how her energy felt.

I once had a teacher, who despite folklore, vigorously tapped tingshas together. Tingshas should only be struck three times a day between the first day of Autumn and the last day of winter or else you would have the wrath of the King of the Nagas on you for having awoken him from his slumber. The liberal teacher rung the tingshas over and over again without a care saying “I believe in the intention. If I believe nothing will happen to me, nothing will.” I loved my liberal teacher.

What I love is that while doing the Tonglen Meditation you are defying all the rules. That's the rebellious part of me. You are holding the belief that while you are bringing in the suffering of others, you have the ability to help transform their suffering into joy. You have the ability to transform your own pain into something beautiful. The intention of transformation pulls you through.

As a healer, I have to remember that healing others and not taking care of myself is a pitfall. I could so easily take on the pain of others and healing them for a personal gratification. Instead, I have to remember that I am also a pebble tossed into the river. I must also allow myself time to heal and transform. Getting tied to the outcome of whether I helped or not, is not the goal. Whether I helped them transcend pain or get a hug, is not what it is all about. That's the side benefit. The true accomplishment comes to wanting to heal someone who has hurt me, rather than harm them. To love myself enough to want to love myself, instead of beating myself up in my mind. That is the power of Tonglen. To walk through the fire of hate and find love instead.

Meeting in the Middle of the Bridge

There's an old saying that goes "Don't burn bridges." When I was younger, I didn't understand that-at all. I had no trouble fighting for what I wanted and remove obstacles from my path. Growing up in a household of constant conflict instilled in me a courage for conflict. Growing up with an Italian/Albanian family who would shout at each other everything they thought, probably also contributed to it. The shouting was not meant in a negative way. Some cultures just speak loudly waving their arms in the air. Conversation was a form of expressive art.

I thought the only way to resolve an issue was state what you felt, needed and wanted. And then of course, you push for it. I couldn't understand why others had trouble doing the same. If we danced around our issues, how could we resolve them? If we couldn't agree, I could easily part ways.

On Tuesday evening at my daughter's theatre showcase, the students had one skit with a look at what future college roommates could be like. One duo had conflict resolution. One roommate wanted to talk about the issue of accidentally waking up the other. The passive-aggressive roommate did everything they could to not talk about it, but rather mention snippets of how they were awoken. They refused to have a two-way conversation about the issue. The moment of complete hilariousness of this skit was when the roommate who was woken up showed their shirt that said "You woke me up last night." Again, they didn't want to talk about it, though.

"Pick your battles" is another phrase that entered my world when I was in my early thirties. Sometimes, I would just let an issue go. As I have a tendency to swing from one side of the pendulum to the other so rapidly, I went to the extreme left and started letting myself let go of way too many things. I became that person who avoided the conflict and instead suffered in silence. I would suffer for someone else so they would be happy.

The other day my daughter said how she was having difficulty cleaning her room. She doesn't want to be a hoarder, but finds herself with an emotional bond to almost every physical object, even something another person would consider junk. I told her about something I saw on television once, I think on Oprah. They had a hoarder divide their items into different piles. There was one with items you could not live without or had great sentimental value. Another was items you couldn't decide on or difficult to let go of. The last pile was items you could will yourself to let go of.

We all have these piles. They don't always manifest as physical objects, but rather as negotiations with others. At work, in our relationships, in our personal life, with our schedule. Sometimes we need to make piles of what is non-negotiable, what we need to consider and what we can let go of.

Pont Des Arts in Paris (A.K.A The Love Lock Bridge).
Couples bring locks with their initials and toss
keys into the water. Photo courtesy of
http://peoniesandpancakes.files.wordpress.com/

I think now in my late thirties, I am somewhere in the middle. I've learned to stand up for myself, while holding compassion for the needs of others. Sometimes if something is not a necessity for me, I let it go. It's still a challenge on both ends of the spectrum for me. I still suffer for others. I still fight for what I want. I'm a work in progress seeking balance. However, I find that if I can give myself time and distance from a situation I can find how to categorize the situation. (And being a Sagittarius, that can sometimes be only ten minutes tops.) I have learned that standing up for myself is important. Allowing my basic needs to be pummeled is not healthy. When it comes to my family, I will also certainly turn into mama bear. I practice compassion recognizing that my needs may conflict with someone else's. I say a little prayer for their happiness. And while my initial reaction may be to burn that bridge right up, that is sometimes not necessary I've found.

Perhaps if we met somewhere away from fear and ego, recognized our own needs and the needs of others, we could meet in a peaceful spot on that bridge and share it with one another.

Beneficial Garden Herbs

For Mother's Day, I spent the day in the garden. I'm a warm weather person. It's not until the weather reaches at least to 70 degrees, that you will find me working in the garden. Other times of the year, you will certainly see me outside soaking up Vitamin D, enjoying nature, but with a coat on. Gardening to me is best done in grubby clothes where I don't feel smothered in layers.

I threw on my work jeans covered in stains from years of dirt and paint and a simple red tee. I threw my hair back into a pony tail and wasn't sure where I would go first. I decided to plant some of the herbs I purchased last night with my daughter from a local nursery. Into the raised bed went Calendula, Rosemary, Dill, and Chamomile. The Lemon Verbena went into the ground this year near the day lilies and Feverfew as it got so tall two years ago, I learned my lesson.

Each year I go with a blend of cooking and medicinal herbs. This year's loot seemed more on the cooking side, but even those great herbs can help medicinally. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance, pray you love, remember," says Ophelia in Shakespeare's Hamlet. Aside from memory, Rosemary is good for migraines, joint support and muscle aches, as well as digestion. In the Middle Ages, Rosemary was used to ward off negativity. A herbalist once told me to put rosemary in the worst possible soil and ignore it. All of my efforts to nurture it year after year was lost. Once I "forgot" about it, it thrived.

Dill is a favorite with potato salads and pickling cucumbers. This fluffy herb can help protect against free radicals, can help prevent the growth of bacteria, and is a good source of calcium and fiber.

Lemon Verbena, amazing in salads and in iced teas, helps with anxiety, stress, and relax muscles. With cooling properties, it can also be useful with fevers, diarrhea, and indigestion.

Another amazing herb for tea drinking and salad making is Lemon Balm, also known as Sweet Melissa. This is an aggressive herb and can quickly take over a spot. One small plant has been divided more times than I can recall. Grab some leaves and start to distress. This is also another winner for digestion issues.

Another favorite cooking herb in my garden that I adore is Basil. This flavorful herb makes its way onto my plate in a variety of ways, my favorite being a caprese salad with slices of tomatoes, hunks of mozzarella cheese, and drizzled with olive oil and vinegar. What I love to know as I am eating it is how it has anti-bacterial properties. It is also an anti-inflammatory which can be helpful with multiple issues in the body including rheumatoid arthritis, joint inflammation, back issues, and more. It has also been used for stabilizing blood sugars and help asthmatics with breathing. Plus, it's an antioxidant and we all love our anti-aging serums. It's nice to get it in this tasty leaf.

I'm up to twenty-three herbs and plants, both wild that I keep, ones that come back each year, and those annuals I purchased this year. Having a natural pharmacy in my yard is something that I treasure.

Herbal Remedies in the Garden

When I was around twelve years old, I remember buying my first "grown-up" books. As someone who was not the "average" teenager, my first book was about eco-conscious shopping and brands. My second was on herbal remedies listing uses from around the globe for each ailment. I had no basis to getting these books. My mother did not know anything about climate change or the benefits of recycling at the time (although she did encourage us to collect our aluminum cans and put them in the magical "recycle" machine for change). We lived in Astoria, N.Y., a city, where the only green was at Central Park. Even before that, I remember buying a small paperback book with a pink cover that gave tips on natural ways to combat the teenage nightmare of acne, facials and other health and beauty tips.

People ask me often how I know about herbal remedies. They ask if I studied it in school or am certified. Oddly enough, this knowledge came from experimenting here and there. My first introduction to the world of natural healing was through the astringent, witch hazel, which I learned about in my paperback acne book. At the time I never would have equated it with a shrub. I just knew it was an all natural remedy for getting rid of pimples. It didn't work for me, but I tried every recipe I could possibly make in that book. I used cucumbers on my eyes for puffiness. I used lemon juice in my hair for shine.

As a teenager (aside from lemon juice), I became a vegetarian and started on a food kick learning about minerals, vitamins and proteins. My mother was always an advocate of vitamins. I had upgraded from Flinestones' chewable to an adult tablet. My stepfather was into herbal supplements. Even was I was younger, my father touted the health benefits of cod liver oil.

My friend Missy decided one day when I was in my twenties, that we should make our own all natural skin remedies and sell them at a farmer's market in town. Her vast knowledge of plants was outstanding. Without her knowing, she became my teacher, and I her apprentice. Taking the information she gave me, I continued to researching herbs. Goldenseal, a perennial native to the U.S. has a yellow root that is known for its antiseptic properties. A pinch of this, along with a few teaspoons of french green clay, a drop of tea tree oil and a few drops of water became the perfect acne treatment. I learned to make massage and hair oils. My favorite scent blends was Ylang Ylang and Lavender. I made foot and body scrubs from sugar, salt, seaweed, sesame seeds, and coffee. I made my daughter's oatmeal bath for eczema with ground oats and powdered milk, along with her topical oil of olive oil and calendula. Food and herbs became topical dreams.

Through playing with herbs for topical, I inadvertently learned their medicinal properties. I cared for my family's ailments using that same book I bought when I was a young girl. Each new illness had me delving in looking for something I could concoct.

At a conference during one summer, my daughter who was with me, suffered from a bee sting. A holistic practitioner scooted outside coming back with a handful of dirt. She added a few drops of water from the bathroom sink and applied it to the sting. My daughter immediately felt pain free.

Then came my next lesson in learning herbs through gardening. I wanted an herb garden along with my vegetable garden. What should I grow? What would I use? Each year I added to my garden. A friend led me through the edge of the property where my studio is on beautiful farmland. I learned about wild weeds. Plantain is good for cuts. Dandelion detoxes the body. Stinging nettle for arthritis, digestion, allergies, and urinary tract support. Yellow dock root for cramps, hormone balance, blood builder and cancer. Cleavers (or sticky weed as I refer to it) for the lymphatic system. Common "weeds" gardeners pull out with so many health benefits waiting to be used! She also taught me to look at food, herbs and weeds to see the clues nature left behind. Beets are red so use for blood. Look at it's roots and cut one open and it looks like a heart. Sticky weed sticks to everything so it can collect what your body doesn't need.

Tonight, as I walked around a section of my yard where the spring and summer wildflowers grow, I saw the stinging nettle staring up at me. I recently read how it was stinging nettle picking time. Another first for me, but one I am excited for. And for Mother's Day this year, I think witch hazel for my garden has finally made it onto the list.

The Power of Sound

Sounds can evoke powerful emotions. A song can evoke heart felt tears. The chirping of a bird can make us smile. The sound of waves can soothe us. A honk of a car can bring us to attention. This morning on my back porch, I played Pharrell Williams Happy song on my mobile, picked up my shih tzu, Charlie, and started dancing. While he didn't understand the point of it, I was having a grand time.

In tonight's meditation class, we played around with sound. As we sat on our cushions, we chanted Om. Each part of the sound including the silence that follows has always brought me to a still place as if time didn't exist. During the start of meditation, I strike the singing bowl. Years ago, a friend led meditation classes at work. When she tapped the bowl with her wooden stick, it felt like everything funneled to one single place between my third eye, my third eye chakra. I would instantly get sucked into this void, if only for a moment, with no thoughts. At the end of tonight's class, I invited everyone to close their eyes as they went into a journey of sound. On the carpeted baby blue floor, I laid two singing bowls, tingshas, and a crystal bowl, tuned to the heart chakra. I started with striking one bowl, slowly laying in the next. I added an additional sound by rimming a singing bowl and then started rimming the crystal bowl. We sat in sound for almost ten minutes. At the end, some of the students indicated the sense of calm that overcame them.

Water with John Lennon's Imagine. Courtesy of
http://www.masaru-emoto.net/english/water-crystal.html

Dr. Masaru Emoto's book, The Hidden Messages in Water, reveals the world of sound through the perspective of water. Play for water upbeat, happy songs, and the water forms beautiful crystal shapes. Speak harshly to the water and watch it form into misshaped dull forms. The water literally transformed based on sound. (www.masaru-emoto.net)

How does that effect you? Depending on your body size (weight and height), you are approximately 60% water. "According to H.H. Mitchell, Journal of Biological Chemistry 158, the brain and heart are composed of 73% water, and the lungs are about 83% water. The skin contains 64% water, muscles and kidneys are 79%, and even the bones are watery: 31%." (Source: http://water.usgs.gov) Half of you is made of water. 

When the moon is full, the gravitational pull effects the tides. The ground is also changed, but we cannot witness it as we can with water. Have you ever heard someone say "it's the full moon," when referencing people's odd behaviours and angry outbursts? We are moved by water. We are driven by sound.

How we speak with one another can greatly alter our moods. Sometimes, it isn't even the words we say, but the way we say them. Maybe we should all sing Happy, dance a little, and speak with tender voices. 

Suggested sound for this week: Tibetan Singing Bowls Meditation
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5dU6serXkg

Week Twelve on the Bhakti Path: From Ego to Bliss Body

This afternoon I attended Consciousness Awakening Techniques - Chidshakti Prakriya with Guruji Dr. Omanand at a local yoga studio. I arrived with myself, a cup of tea, and my purse. I grabbed a blue striped Mexican blanket to sit on and joined the room.

Guruji sat in a simple folding chair wearing a white tunic, white pants, white socks, and mala beads around his right wrist and neck. Black and grey hair rested on his shoulders. He shared with us that his guru was Yug Purush Mahamandeleshwar Swami Paramanand Giri Ji Maharaj, a Self-Realized Guru of this present era, initiated into Sainthood. 

The conversation turned to the sound "Om" (also sounded and sometimes spelled "Aum.") He said many religions share this sound. Shalom. Amen. And with Buddhists and Hindus, Om. The sound, he explained, is said to be the first sound of the universe. If you look on YouTube, you can find videos of the sound emanating in the vastness of space. We chanted Om, first in its entirety. Next we chanted section by section to feel where the sound resonated in the body. Through "Ah," "Oh," "Mm," and silence. the fourth sound, we could feel a stillness come over every one of us. The shy room grew even more quiet. 

As we were instructed to lay on the floor to continue the chanting, I took a quick sip of my tea, to which I found my teacher a combination of Saturn and gentle. "No drinking beverages while we move through exercises. No coffee." While I had my legs focused to the opposite wall, Guruji reminded us only our heads were to face in his direction. He softened the instructions with "how else then may I give you my blessings?" I was then told to remove the blanket from under my head. 

My ego swelled with anger, thinking about how I should leave. I was not drinking coffee. His assumption was incorrect. I reminded myself I was to be here and should leave my ego with my shoes. He was educating me on his traditions and beliefs. My American mind wanted too much flexibility. When had I not assumed incorrectly? Even in his incorrect assessment, I was sure that tea was also not permitted as it is considered a stimulant, as well.  I knew better than to put my feet in his direction, and how my head should be facing him. However, when I saw others doing it, I thought it was alright, abandoning a respect to a teacher. During break, I went downstairs to toss my tea and instead add water. I breathed through my initial reaction, feeling saddened that I allowed my ego to overcome my intention. I remembered how when people have even a momentary sad or angry thought, how it hangs like a cloud around the space they are or were in. I paused for a moment visualizing myself cleaning up after my own negative clouds. 

Courtesy of manforallseason.wordpress.com

After break, we discussed the bodies. We have our physical body, our Life force body, the Mental body, the Wisdom body, and the Bliss body. These are identified as Koshas, or sheaths, as written in the Upanishads by yogic sages over 3,000 years ago. Depending on the type of yoga, there are other bodies as well, but are not referenced as koshas. Other bodies include the Pranic body, the Subtle body. 

Guruji then led us into the healing process of Chidshakti Prakriya which is meant to eliminate physical, emotion and mental disharmony and disease. We started the practice with intense, yet subtle movements of the neck, followed by moving fingers and hands. Next, adding intentionally intense breath focused on the exhale, we moved hands, arms and torso. We built to faster paced physical movements such as interlacing hands behind the back and with every inhale opening the chest and with every exhale folding the body, head reaching to the knees and center. Some of the pranayama (breath work) and asanas we did, I recognized from my time studying with my yoga instructor. Other's reminded me of my practices in Kundalini Yoga classes. Fortunately for us, he did not have us practice these for five or ten minutes at a time. He was generous with breaks.

We then sat, without movement in a modified lotus pose, hands in Gyan mudra (index and thumb together, back of hand resting on the knees). We were told many times before and at the beginning of this meditation to not move. If we moved, any progress we made in reaching our "bliss body" would be lost to the distraction of the physical body. We were to witness what we saw in our third eye, our mind, our body, but not to judge or dismiss. 

The heat in the room was overwhelming from the physical asanas and with now just the breath, I felt like I was sitting in a sauna. The breath of the room was fast paced and I raced to keep up with it. By nature, I am a very slow breather. An eternity could go by before I would need to breath again when I was in a relaxed state. I struggled to keep the breath going, keep my focus off my legs going numb, keeping my mula bandha locked (tightening the buttocks and lifting the pelvic floor). I was not at first feeling like a witness, but an active participant in getting my body to be where it needed to be, while he encouraged us on. I felt Guruji's presence walking around the room, soon near me. 


A cold, wet, clothed stick tapped my forehead over and over again as Guruji said "Good" and "Release, let it go." An unidentifiable familiar scent entered my nose. I felt as if that stick went through my third eye, opening it up beyond any experience I've had before. My breath changed. Instead of a quick inhale and exhale, my breath took on a life of its own. I inhaled and then exhaled three times. Slowly, I felt my breath then slow down to my meditative breath with little inhale and exhale. The sounds of the room were alive with variance. Tears. Deep Breathing. Silence. We were all on our own personal journeys. Soon, we were all quiet. By then, however, I was on a journey out of my body. No longer was my essence connected to that person sitting on the floor, but rather several inches above following a kaleidoscope of images in my mind's eye. 

Diluted purple drops fell onto the canvas of my mind, over and over again. Sometimes it revealed nothing more. Other times, eyes looked at me. Just one eye. An eye of a boar. Eye of a man. Eye of a woman. Eye of a wolf. An unidentifiable eye. Each time it looked at me without judgement, just present. 

I found myself transcendeding that state into a blissful state of nothingness, yet pure joy. White light surrounded me. As I felt myself pulled higher and higher up, the state held, if for only moments until my mind shifted back to "am I leaning to the right side?" "Is my right hand about to fall off my lap?" Recognizing the thoughts, I then moved back up towards bliss for a second here and there before it was gone altogether. 

My thoughts made their way slowly back to the body where I realized my right leg was indeed asleep. Guruji then asked us to lie on our belly with our knee bent, hugging and releasing what was left to Mother Earth. I did so willingly, wiggled my toes, while butterflies ran up from my toes to my knee, blood rushing through. 


As I sat up, I saw yellow dots of sandalwood painted from the stick on the foreheads of the students around me. Guruji said we were in practice for one hour and twenty minutes, fifty of which, we were in meditation. I had not meditated for that long in who knows how long, let alone sat without movement. He invited us to do this practice again, to keep our spiritual minds active through reading and other experiential journeys. We were asked not to go back to the rat race again, loosing what we gained today. 

I made my way home to see my husband at work in the garden. My daughter giving me an early Mother's Day gift, words of gratitude for her childhood. My dogs greeted me hello. It was a beautiful day.