I Haven't Blogged in Looooooonnnnng Time...

I journal like mad. I clean poo up off the floors. Off the walls. It could be worse. A friend had to clean animal pellets off an entire bathroom about a week or so ago. Somehow something furry got into one of the bathrooms and pooed all over everything. I did not have to clean that up. I count my blessings.

I never want to leave here which makes me want to pack up immediately and go somewhere else. It hasn't rained in days. I'm healing big time. And it's so hard to explain how I live here. It really is. Even when I journal at the end of the day, I don't know how to express how astoundingly gorgeous my days are.

Last week, there was a Kundalini Yoga workshop. I'm new to the practice, but have taken to it whole hog. I got invited to a session. It was amazingly intense. At one point while doing squats with a rolled up yoga mat under my feet, I thought to myself, "This is so great. When I'm in teacher training, I can do this all day." I thought those words. And still mean them. I've led two classes already. One morning, while sleeping through sadhana (daily practice) the woman beside me didn't know how to do the exercise correctly. I woke up, showed her how to do it and then went back to sleep. This is the person I've become or unearthed. I'm not sure.

All I know is that if I'm unable to live the changes I've manifested here, then there is no hope, but I know that God is good and so I enter these last six weeks here in the present, and at the same time aware that there is a world outside of Omega and that I am eager to return. Or rather enter it, because I am not who I was when I arrived. Nor am I anyone I've ever met before. But that's another story.

It's Been Ten Days Since I've Last Blogged...

In that time, I've posed semi-nude for an art class. I've committed to daily sadhana for the next 40 days. At least one of those sessions I will teach. Me, teaching a 4am yoga class. Oh yes. I've taken up the tarot again. My tent smells like mildew and teatree oil.

I've discovered that baking soda helps make my feet clean. Not having clean feet has driven me kind of crazy. I live not far from the bathroom, but it rains lots here. The path to the bathroom is often very muddy. I go shower. My feet are so clean until I leave the bathroom to go back to my tent and get dressed or go out into the world. I step in a mud puddle. Clean feet no more. Most of the buildings here require that we take off our shoes. So my shockingly dirty feet are no secret. They are on display for all of Omega to see. Not to mention that first thing in the morning, I stare at my filthy feet for two hours. Hurray for baking soda. It scrubs away the caked in mud. For at least five minutes everyday now, I can savor sweet pink soles. And then I go outside and they get all muddy, but for five minutes they were glorious and clean. I hold that gratitude in my heart as my feet get grotty. The difference now is that each new day brings about a new set of grime. No more grime carry over. That is progress. That is growth.

So goes it with my soul, too. My old gunk is gone. My daily sadhana has been like baking soda for my soul. Two hours of scrubbing and all clean. Another day to gunk it up, but because I started off fresh and clean, the gunk doesn't get ground in. Clean soles. A cleaner soul. Still, when I leave I'm getting a serious pedicure. And will wear socks until Kingdom come and beyond.

I Am Beautiful No Matter What They Say...

Yes. I understand that cheesy song now. I get it. Today I am a model. I posed topless for artists. I posed first by myself draped in a sarong. Then I posed with a petite blonde named, Rosie. It was maybe the most transformative thing I've done since I got here. We posed side by side with our arms around each other and our left feet touching. We closed our eyes and meditated for about 25 minutes. I thought I'd be intimidated by her body. By society's standards, it was perfect. Maybe it's all the yoga, but I've come to really be thankful and proud of my body and all it can do. So, there I sat with no top on getting drawn. I almost cried from how beautiful it felt. I don't have another word for the experience.

One of the artists gave me his charcoal of one of my poses alone. I love it. I love it so much. For most of my life, I've put all these imaginary limitations on my body. It's too fat. Too tall. Too big. Too flabby. Too black. Too whatever. Today I just wonder if it's possible that I've always been too beautiful?

More on the Hug and It's After-Snuggle.

I was going to say aftershock, but I'm not in shock. I'm in snuggle. I feel warmth radiate from my heart. A tenderness tugs at me towards everything. Spectacular bugs crawl on and in my tent. I like them. I talk to them. If they're pretty, I let them stay. They stay out of my way.

There's a cat here. Actually, two. One yowls lots on my walkway. The other is more tame. Cuter. It's nice to pet a cat. It seems so normal, but it's nice. I went to the movies Saturday night. I don't like going to the movies normally, but I was so hungry to do something that wasn't going to move me to tears and open my soul further. We saw, Away We Go with Mia Rudolph and that cute guy from the American version of "The Office." It was cute, romantic and screamingly funny. Again, it was nice to feel kind of normal. For a bit. Especially when things here get so very--I don't know how to put it. Synchronous. You think of someone and they appear. Or like what happened to me Thursday, you try to sleep in and miss 4am yoga and your teacher spends the morning concentrating on you and praying for you to get to class until you literally hear his voice and wake up and drag your sleepy self to class.

That's how things are. I like it. It's good, but apparently this happens to everyone during their season. It gets kind of overwhelming. Not that I was ever going to be a regular person anyway, but c'mon. I'm at peace with how "out there" I am and am continuously becoming. I use vibe speak without irony. My chakras are clear. I am sensitive to energies and right now I'm not wearing shoes. By the time I leave, I know that I'll be so moonbeam rain-warrior that I'll just float. But isn't that why I came?

This wasn't about the darshon at all. Oh well. But in a way it was. What I learned from Amma was how to be holy human. So getting patted down with a tissue and being lifted away just when I got into the hug is a small price to pay.

I Eat Flowers for Dessert. Not Ten Minutes Ago, I Got Smacked in the Face with Tree Branch... Coincidence?

I think not. When I was first learning to drive the golf cart, I hit two trees. I felt bad, but today, I think it was time for Nature to take some revenge. No bruise. It was funny. Getting smacked by a tree.

A few days ago, I tried to take a nature walk. I went along our major nature path called The Path. I've been using body oil mixed with LOTS of citronella. The mosquitoes here have gotten wise to my plot. They love the citronella. I spent my time communing with nature waving my arms and cursing. I decided to go to the library instead. The bites don't last forever. They just itch like they do. It's funny. I'm learning to simply put up with things that are only slightly uncomfortable. It will pass. In morning sadhana, there is a meditation that lasts for twenty-two minutes. You are in a position called the Warrior pose. Your left foot is up your butt and you sort of have your right leg out and bent for balance and then you chant. It's the single most uncomfortable thing I've ever done. Yet, each morning, I do it as if I've never done it before. As if I have no idea how crazily unpleasant it is to do. It makes me think of childbirth (the stories I've heard anyway). That brief stint of unpleasantness is usually the worst part of my day. It only lasts 22 minutes. And then it's over. And then I can go out and get smacked by trees, bitten by bugs, and hounded by people who want me to sing with them. And none of it bothers me because I know that come 5am tomorrow morning, I'll be really, really in a mild amount of pain. Chanting.

I've been here six weeks. Last week, I met Ammaji, the hugging saint. She's this little Indian lady who has reached Enlightenment and embodies Divine Love which compells her to go around the world hugging people. I saw a documentary about her one year or so ago. I wept the whole time. I wanted to get one of her holy hugs. So, Wednesday mornings, two friends and I set out to meet the Hugging Saint. One was a devotee. One had no idea about Amma at all. I was somewhere in the middle.

It was a good hug. She looked so much like my mom. I'd spent the day meditating and praying. I was in a good place. My old friend came to visit. Seeing people from your past while you are changing is always strange. I must have looked so weird to him. Barefoot. Bald. Wide-eyed. Waiting to hug a woman in white. He was having a hard time. Not with me, but with life in general. I was happy to be there for him and happier to see him, but it was kind of strange switchin gears from eager pilgrim to concerned friend. I'd spent the day in meditation. Problems take on a very different perspective after that much meditation. I went from talking to him to getting my hug. I was much more grounded by then. At the time, I wasn't really feeling earthbound, but in retrospect I guess I needed it. Had I been where I'd been all day, I probably would be in India now. With a tambourine. Chanting. Wait. I do that now.

The atmosphere was interesting. She seemed amused and bemused by all the attention, but she also had a definite bit of the diva about her. She managed the hugging, the reporters, the whole scene with the finesse I've come to recognize from all the moms I know. Multi-tasking is her thing.

We stayed until 3:30am. We spent the next two and half hours eating chocolate sorbet in a bodega across the street. It was like a slumber party. But holier.

I didn't expect one hug to change my life. But it did. I've decided to become a cantor. That didn't come from the hug, but it's a good story which I'll tell next time. I've also decided to teach Kundalini yoga. Also another good story to tell another time.

5 Weeks!

I though when I got here that I'd feel strange and intimidated by all the yoga babes and hippie types. I'm perfectly at home. I'm actually kind of popular. Yesterday, I cleaned the mildew off my shoes. They're sitting outside my tent drying. I still get up before the slightest hint of morning light to move and chant. I shaved my head to cut ties further with the physical in order to allow myself to better free what my body holds from my awareness. I thwarted a relationship and with the help of a therapist used the experience to expose and break a lifelong pattern of attracting and repelling the men I want. I eat well. I sleep well. I don't think I've ever looked more beautiful in my life. I've never felt more beautiful. It shows on my face. I no longer feel like this is a crazy beautiful dream. This is my life. It's always been my life. I train my lungs to hold more air so I can take bigger breaths. Simply breathing is such a delight. Being sad. Being happy. Being. It's a delight. I want more of it; so, I am using the tools available to create space within me for more joy. What a privileged life I lead. I get to take time out simply to become capable of containing more love, more joy and more Spirit. I could write more but words don't do my experience justice. I feel I'm leaving even happiness in the dust. I just am. And it's wonderful.

The More Things Change...

One month. Four weeks. I've been here four weeks. 28 days. In that time, I've become the kind of person who gets up at three-thirty, takes a cold shower and hikes up a hill to go do yoga for two hours. I then eat breakfast. Usually fruit, because I get full so quickly and then I go to a field and do another hour of yoga if I don't have to work. After that, I wander around or go swimming or go read. Today I feel like writing. I really desire putting words to paper.

A few nights ago, I dreamed that I sent an email to everyone in Philly telling them that I'd transformed and was done and ready to go home. I woke laughing. I will not be the same person who left. Today, I decided to just pretend that I'm on vacation and relax. No pursuit of transformation today for me. But I will write.

People tell me I'm beautiful all the time here. Someone thought I was teaching a dance class. I think that's kind of interesting. A few days ago, one of my friends here actually told me that she's jealous of me. No one has ever been jealous of me. Not even me. I thought I'd feel so out of place hre amongst all these beautiful yoga types. And there are many, but I fit in just fine. Very well actually. I made friends. I'm off to help another friend pack up her tent. I applied to work full time here until November.

3 Weeks!

I've been here three weeks. In three weeks, I've taken to getting up way before dawn to practice yoga. I have opened up my broken heart in an empathy circle. I surrender to God every morning and each morning my days blossom into something that I couldn't have imagined if I had weeks of preparation. That's a powerful lesson to learn. I've never really trusted the Divine to deliver. I really believed that God helps those who help themselves. And so I did my best. And I waited. And waited. And waited. Then I gave up and lost my mind. Now I wonder if it's possible to be too blessed. Not that I'm complaining, but I look at my life and where I am and have to catch my breath. Today, I went to Wal-Mart. I hate that store. It's too bright. Overwhelming, but I got through it and got some plastic bins because my tent is getting cluttered and for the first time in my whole life I actually care what my living space feels like when I get home at the end of the day. Last night my friend, Kyla, spent the night with me so we could go to yoga together the next day. I watched her marvel at how I live. It's true.

My roughing it isn't very rough. I don't even want it another way. I don't know if I wrote this before, but this part of my life both looks and feels like the part in the fairy tale when the princess lives in the woods and birds and squirrels keep her company and entertained until her prince comes. I live in this cute little green tent with a big double bed futon in it and still have room to walk around. I've figured out how to keep it warm yet keep air ciruclating and I go to sleep the glorious sound of frogs singng. If I'd tried to formulate what would have made me happiest, I would not have guessed this at all. I would have imagined money, a gorgeous man or at least something like that. But as I was talking this morning to my friend, I have everything I asked for in my life.

I have love. I am rich. I live someplace wonderful. Moths tickle my neck. I'm getting to be a very good golf-cart driver even if I get distracted. I sleep well. I dream lovely dreams. This afternoon I rolled down a hill laughing from the core of my being. I know this is only the begining, but even if this is all my life ever is, it's more than enough. I'm that happy. On the reals.

Also, I know it's taking me a long time to respond to the wonderful mail I've gotten here. But trying to find ugly stationary with cow-eyed kittens is proving harder than I'd imagined. Go figure.

Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud. Mud.

Really. It's not a complaint. It's just a statement of fact. It rains almost everyday here. So, there is so much mud on the trail to the bathroom. I keep cycling between utter acceptance of the mud and complete exasperation at the mud. These cycles fluctuate often on the walk to the toilet or shower. It's most annoying after showering. I've also been here long enough to get sort of weird about the food. It's delicious, but sometimes, I just want to eat on the couch. Not walk lots of some distance to eat. That's complaining.

But I feel like I have to complain just to feel sort of normal. I've really taken to the Kundalini yoga and it increases feelings of ecstasy. So, mostly I'm pretty blissful. Until I have to pee in the middle of the night. I hold it in mostly which isn't good, but these are the things that you live with when you live outside.

My tent, Hilary, feels very much like a home. I've moved in more here than I have anywhere in my memory. I have a futon now. I futon on a frame. A friend gave it to me for the summer so she could sleep on the earth. We're both very happy with the arrangement.

Now, I've dived more deeply into the personal transformation work. I'm getting over the crush incident and finding myself kind of in love with my yoga teacher. It fascinates me. I think the two are related. I have a mission statement. I work to control my breathing. And I'm in a band that I really don't care about. It's a silly thing. One member is very invested in it. She's writing songs. I'm more comfortable singing in public now than I have in a while. But I don't really relish the idea of singing songs about vegetarian food. I've done that before. Death Tarte, anyone?

There's a sweatlodge tonight I'm working, but am finding that I'm working through my intent as if I'm going anyway. I go on long walks. I get up before for and climb up hill to do yoga. I feel like I do more in one day here than I did in a week before. I can't believe I've been here three weeks.

Three weeks ago I arrived with a pedicure and a manicure and enough stuff to last me for five months. Now I'm a hippie who lives in the mud. I have never been happier.

Two Weeks In. Here's a List...

1. Talking to bugs.

I do it all the time. I explain why I'm moving them from point A to B. I explain that everything is okay. I mean them no harm. It's actually better for them outside with the trees than with me and the stubborn scent of tea tree oil. I even talk to the ones I end up killing. I tell them that I didn't intend for things to end up this way. That I tried to give them every reasonable way out, but I'm sleepy and have no time to wait for a mosquito to decide when to leave my tent.

2. Trying to clean my tent.

I used to be a sloppy person. I doubt I will be again. Trying to sweep mulch out of a tent when I am surrounded by nature and mud and muddy nature and more mud and hay--well, it's an exercise in futility. Still, I do it. I do it because I can get lots of it out. I remind myself of that fact as I track more in.

3. Being on a hugging basis with someone whose name you do not know.

Yes. It's true. I have hugged nearly everyone on this campus. I only know about a third of their names. I know everyone's life story. I've cried with nearly everyone, but names. And when I ask their name again, no one minds. It's true. I can recognize someone's energy and their face, but not their name. I can say that here. It's okay.

4. Often, I seem like the least flaky person here.

This boggles my mind somewhat. I'm pretty out there, yet, I've met people in their sixties who don't have addresses or telephone numbers. I don't judge. It just fascinates me. It fascinates me because I realize more and more that I am less drawn to completely removing myself from mainstream culture. What I prefer is making the "real" world a little bit more like Omega.

5. Everyone farts in yoga class

6. Words fail at adequately processing a typical day here.

So much has gone on over the last few days. Today I spent in workshop on peaceful communication. It's changing me. Last night, I started coming up with my own mission statement. The lead singer of Sweet Honey on the Rock said hello to me as we walked by each other and I haven't even begun to scratch the surface to what my days are like. I try to journal, but I find myself eager instead to sleep and let my dreams tell me my story.

7. I have no idea what I'll be like when I'm done here.

8. I'm afraid I'll never want to leave.

It's so safe here. I've never in all my life felt so safe anywhere at any time. It's so secure. I'm a bit frightened. I can see why people opt to only return to society for a few months each year just to return. I imagine that each subsequent year loses its luster, but even on a rotten day, this place is better than most. Still, I don't imagine myself making this my lifestyle. I can see the value of my time here. I'm learning so much. The work of transformation at this level is best undertaken someplace removed and safe. I get that. But I wonder, how much more would I want to change come October? I don't know. For now, I can't imagine being anywhere else.

9. It takes me nearly two hours to eat.

I've taken to eating much less. I eat mindfully. Prayerfully. It takes a long time. I love it. I hope the habit sticks. I'm sure it will. It takes 40 days to build a habit. I'll be here for 5 months. I eat super slow.

10. Thinking that you want something can make it happen.

I'm getting a bed. Today or tomorrow at the latest. A loaner. Still, it's better than sleeping on the ground. Not that I minded. It was kinda nice just being that close to the earth, but a bed will rule.

11. Getting up in the middle of the night to go pee in the rain is already old.

And I still love being here.

Yet Another Gloriously Humbling Moment.

So, this morning I woke up at three to go to sadhadna. It's a two hour session where you go do some yoga and then chant for an hour. This was my second time and I love it. I also admit that I get a certain amount of spiritual seeker cred from myself by getting up long before the sun to consecrate my soul as a servant of G-d. Good stuff.

Mostly, other than the actually class, is the walk there. To get there I have to walk across the entire campus and then go uphill in the dark. I feel very holy. Obnoxiously holy as I climb up this crazy trail in the pitch dark with only my headlamp to guide me. And wouldn't you know it that this morning it was pouring rain. Buckets of water came down from the sky as I climbed up over the piles of wet leaves. The roots, random sticks and various other hazards to my body in order to align it with it's Divine purpose. I could have lit a cathedral with my breath, I felt so holy. The woman I was walking with did not agree.

"Are you sure it's this way? I could have sworn there was a road."

"It's okay. I know it by feel."

We'd tried the road we knew of but it only went to the meditation sanctuary. Only about half way up the trail toward where we needed to go. She had to trust me and my oh, so unsafe trail. But I'd gotten there before. I knew where I was going even tough I didn't know. It's an amazing feeling to just climb in the dark knowing that only my legs know where I'm going. I felt reassured. Not so for my companion.

"Maybe we need to go this way."

I did not listen. I climbed like the serious seeker I am. I climbed knowing that I have been chosen by G-d for some amazing purpose. I climbed all the while editing what the passage would look like in my spiritual memoir. I wasn't really walking in my big, blue rain suit. I was floating. Floating on G-d energy. That and pure crazy, ego-maniacal attachment to holiness.

We get to the Hillhouse where the class was being held. It was a powerful session. Afterwards, the whole class walked down together down the gravel road that takes you safely in a nice curve from the top of the hill to the bottom. It was so funny to me.

I get off on making this stuff hard. I keep reading these books that tell me that the Truth is simple. Not easy, but simple. But to feed my enormous ego, I'd rather walk uphill in the rain when it's so dark that I can barely see in front of me rather than try to find an easier, saner way of doing something.

That's why I love this place. I can find myself faced with my crap, but just rather than giving myself a hard time, I just notice it. It's funny. Common. Humbling and well worth the price of admission.

What a Difference a Week Makes...

Monday night, after a harrowing night of golf cart derby and scrubbing toilets, it started to rain. Hard. Cold, rainy rain that comes down in buckets. That kind of rain. The evening's work went well enough, but the girl I was working with was very unsure of herself and therefore controlling. It annoyed me. That my period had just started didn't help. Also, I am a smiley person, but I don't choose to ignore the unpleasant things of life. During our shift, I saw a little mouse dying beside the art hut. There was nothing to be done, the mouse was just dying. It lay there taking its last, huge breaths. It was sad and fascinating. I pointed it out to her. She replied, "How do you know it's dying? Don't put that in my mind." I tuned her out for the rest of the evening, but it made me think about how I seek to control my life and how I hate the unpleasantness, too. It's not a trait I relish.

Well, the ridiculously long shift finally ended, I set out in the downpour only to find that I'd forgotten my headlamp and flashlight at home. Great. It's dark. It's pouring. I'm on the rag and irritated both with the girl I'd just worked with, but mostly with myself. All I want to do is go to sleep. And then it happened. I don't know if I consciously thought about it, but I do remember just shrugging and setting off in the dark towards the sound of the frogs singing. I gave up. Or I was willing to give up. It was a beautiful walk. I couldn't see anything. I just felt the ground. I prayed lots. But after a few minutes, I even stopped that because I knew I was perfectly safe. The worst thing that could happen was that I could die. And that seemed unlikely, so I walked. I made it. Without falling, without getting poison ivy and without going into someone else's tent. I just made.

Still, I was wet, and whiny. So I got inside and started grumbling about the weather. That I'd have to walk to the bathroom over and over in the rain. Why is my life such a vale of tears? This went on for a while. For the past six months, whenever I feel this way, I read from the book of Job. I love the part when G-d lights into Job for feeling sorry for himself and afterwards, Job repents in dust and ashes and all ends well. That story sings to me. Well, I read it that night. I read a Psalm or two, too, but fell into a fitful petulant sleep to the sound of rain, rain and more rain.

I woke up to the boom of thunder. I've heard thunder all my life. There's something quite different about hearing thunder in a house and hearing it in a vinyl bag surrounded by trees that can get struck by lightening and crush you. Very different. Each crash boomed long and loud. It was scary. And then I got it. To say I got it doesn't do the moment justice. I've heard about surrender before. I've surrendered before, but not like this. I realized that I was in a vinyl bag held to the ground with hollow metals poles staked with aluminum hooks and plastic stakes. And all around me trees whipped around and thunder boomed and lightening struck. The terror vanished. I thanked G-d for being the Supreme Being in charge and fell into a deep, dreamless utterly peaceful sleep.

Look Out!

I'm driving the golf cart. Holy Heck on wheels. It's been quite the day. I've been a mosquito killing, cookie eating, golf cart driving machine who nearly took out a Subaru and a stop sign. And yes, it's that time of the month.

The Moth/Mo Idiocy

It's almost been a week since I got here, and I've gotten quite good at the removal of bugs from my tent. I can grab a mosquito by the leg, open the tent a few inches and send it out into the wild to bite another day. Unless they only live a day. All I need now is a pair of chopsticks, and then look out. I'll catch flies and start calling everyone grasshopper and have a wonderful time. Or so I thought until last night. Last night, I did not spend the night alone.

I got in late. I watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding with some fellow Omegaians. It was nice. It was after midnight. Woo hoo! Tired. I was tired. I had laughed really hard that day. For an hour. And then I watched a funny movie. I did laundry. I arranged to move my tent. Things were hopping. I was eager to settle into the ground and have myself a good sleep. And then I saw him.

This moth. This wood colored moth. He was pretty. I give him that, but I was tired. I just wanted to go to sleep. All I could think of was that he was going to fly into my moth or my nose or both and do mothy things to my eyes while I slept. He was going to drink my body oil and take my cellphone and make calls and do all sorts of annoying things that unwanted tent guests are proned to do. I was determined to get him out. And quickly.

So, headlamp wrapped on my head, I tried to catch Mothman. I tried cupping him in my hands. It didn't work. I tried catching him in a waterbottle. I tried napkins, clothes, begging, ambushes--you name it. I did it. I even tried to kill him.

"Look, dude, this tent ain't big enough for the both of us. I tried to play nice, but you won't play ball. So, You's gots ta die." I tried to clap him dead.

I swear he looked me dead in the face and/or headlamp and flew right at me. I ran around my tent flapping my arms. The campus is silent after ten, so I was screaming on the inside. I lunged at him again. He lunged at me. This went on for about TWENTY MINUTES. Me trying to talk him down. Him trying to kill me.

I gave up. I slept just fine. Maybe stupid people shouldn't seek enlightenment.

Joy Cometh in the Morning...

Boy. Last night I was pissed off. I had been breathing the suffering of women who aren't safe in their own homes with their own husbands. I was breathing in the suffering of the lonely, the cold, the homeless, the forsaken and forgotten. I kept breathing out safety, comfort, companionship, but at the core of it I found myself just getting mad. Mad that people suffer at all. Mad that I even felt compelled to connect with those who suffer. Misery loves company, right? No. I desperately wanted to be the only one who felt sad, lonely, mistreated or who had gotten the short end of the stick. I meditated a while and when I felt at my lowest I prayed.

I prayed an angry prayer. Not just on my behalf, but on everyone's behalf. What's with all the misery? Can't well all just get a break? Some peace? Something.

And then about mid-prayer, it hit me how ungrateful I felt and sounded. That's what suffering really is ultimately. Even when someone is in a legitimately tough situation, prolonged suffering really boils down to ingratitude. Maybe it's because my life is so good that I can't imagine clinging to my feelings of romantic inadequacy or loneliness or whatever it is that keeps men at bay. Or that sure, I only have a small amount of money, but my life is better than it is bad. And it's amusing to me that one act of rudeness spiraled into a three hour ordeal of nearly overwhelming sorrow. Hopelessness for a suffering world. I stayed with my gripe and prayed until I could no longer taste the bitterness in my mouth. I slept hard and dreamed weird dreams. I dreamed of weird little creatures I'd never seen before. They gave me balloons and wanted to hug me, but they were torturing others. It was strange, yet I felt perfectly safe.

I woke up lazily and groggy and was loathe to get up and do anything. I was invited to a playing workshop. Reluctantly, I got up and dressed and unzipped the door and headed out. Oh yes, not before reading Job. I read some of God's admonition to Job and then Job's response. I felt lighter. Suffering had meaning whether or not I gave it any. Nor could I really measure or know the extent of someone else's suffering. All I could do was my very best to alleviate the suffering of the world and be grateful for what I have in life. Or alleviate the suffering by being grateful. At any rate, I walked into the workshop where there were quotations on joy. We played for an hour and then did an hour of Laughter Yoga. I laughed for an hour. For no reason. Other than because I could. The loneliness went away and did the bitterness as did the stress of the tonglen practice. I even did it sponteanously during the silent meditation portion of the yoga session. It's pretty outside and I must go play outside until it's time to stop.

Again, I say that being a human being is a hoot. So angry one minute. Laughing to the point of serious fatigue the next. Baruch Hashem for making us the way we are.

No Serpent/No Eden. Go Fig.

And now the messy work of why I came here commences. Yesterday at my Women's Empowerment Guild meeting, a woman opened the meeting with a grounding exercise. She chose to have the group chant, "Nam myo ho renge kyo." Last summer I started chanting that. Twas nice. Just not my bag. But I'm familiar with most spiritual practices. She noticed that I knew that mantra and was eager to chat after class. I had to work. The meeting went on and was nice.

Later, I was in here at the computer posting my blog about magical dancing with bunnies, and she came in to do her oral hygeine. She asked me why I stopped chanting. I told her. I didn't like the high pressure that was being sent my way to join a new religion. I have joined my share of faiths. I'm done. I'm happy with how I see and commune with God. We're cool. Close. The Love flows both ways. It's good stuff. As politely as I could, I explained what didn't click for me and the SGI branch of Buddhism. Basically, you chant the mantra with some goal in mind and then it happens. And you learn from your desires, ideally. Most of the group it seemed was merely chanting for stuff. Don't get me wrong. I want stuff. It's a dark spot in my heart that I really, really want certain things. I'm just happy whether I actually get them or not. It's how I roll.

Anyway, I thought things were cool enough. She told me about how her practice brought wonderful things to her life. I told her about my practice and how I, too, have reaped great things, but that I just wasn't into the chanting. But I did enjoy the chanting yesterday. It was fun. Chanting anything gets the blood going. Wakes one up. I recommend it. Chant anything.

So, we start talking about something else. In walks a boy, a cute one. Just as a side note, they're all cute yoga boys here. All of them. Okay, there are about ten old men and some other guys who just aren't hot, but the vast majority are slammin' cute. Where was I? Oh, yes. My challenge.

Well, she's still doing teeth stuff and I'm still blogging and she asked me if I enjoyed the New Orleans style tofu served at lunch. I did. It was tasty. Like Carolina barbecued chicken. It was served with grits and collards. Likable. Anyway, when I told her apparently my face lit up and she started laughing. I thought nothing of it. I often am moved to giggles when people enjoy themselves and express it. It's a wonderuful thing to behold. Man this post is long.This must really bother me.

She grips her stomach laughing and has me pause to call the boy over and has me tell it again. It turns out that my enjoying it was so funny because he used to live in Nawlin's and thought the idea of tofu seasoned in such a way was absurd. I haven't been laughed at in a long time in a way that bothered me, but this still does.

Tonight Pema Chodron lectured about tonglen meditation. Pema is a Buddhist nun who writes books about how to cope and thrive in these troubled times. Tonglen is the practice of breathing in suffering and breathing out relief. It's a powerful practice. I recommend it to anyone. It's compatible with all religions. It's a great way of opening your heart to compassion.

Well, I'm star struck, listening to the lecture and in walks the girl with an even cuter yoga boy and their all lovey-pie during the lecture. It pissed me off. On many levels. Here not two weeks ago did I get dumped by a guy I never went out with, and I don't make fun of people. I'm earnestly applying the practice to ease the suffering of the world, and I have no man to speak of. Bites the biscuit.

I'm so excited and grateful to be so miffed. Until tomorrow at about 5, we're silent. I'm excited to get into something other than bliss here. The bliss is still here. I'm still happy, happier maybe because now I am reminded why I'm here. To grow. To learn. I could go on and on, but I'll spare the reader and save that for my journal. I haven't had my feelings hurt in a long time. A very long time. Now since the mystery dump, I expect it'll happen more and more. And if I'm to open up and be intimate with anyone, I have to allow it. Being human is a HOOT!

When Was the Last Time You Danced?

Okay. The magical moments at this place really rack up. Tonight, I danced outside with a bunny while working. Between the outbursts of dancing, I cleaned toilets. I had a wonderful time. The moon is almost full and hidden ever so slightly behind a veil of clouds. It's chilly here more like mid-fall or spring than almost summer. So dancing barefoot in swinging pink pants to "Pretty Young Thing" while a little bunny tries to come near and then retreats. Near and then runs away.

I love intense conversations, and had many today. Today I attended my first real workshop. It's about awakening my power as a woman. What I find interesting is that although each of us comes from very different backgrounds and our methods vary, we kind of want the same thing. But then again, we don't. It's interesting, but I'm sure I'll get what I need and seek from the workshop. I am supposed to be here. Beautiful, beatific yoga boys with their long hugs and intense, non-threatening gazes. Women of all different shapes and sizes, comfortably being in whatever they choose to wear. The bountiful rows of delicious vegetarian food. Why is it so easy to myself here? Sure, I'm myself at home, but I notice how much I censure myself. How part of me still views myself and my life as if I still slept. When in fact, I have spent the better part of three years trying not to believe that I am blessed beyond comprehension and alive and lucky and so, so grateful. I can't believe I had the nerve to ask why!

That's why I was so eager to get rid of everything or as much as I could before I left. Very little of what I own or how lived before was very honest. I've spent too much time trying to stuff the person I am into the person I used to be's life. I guess everyone does it, but who can go back to trying to seem like they were after dancing under a thinly veiled moon with a rabbit? Not me. Not me.

Oh Where? Oh Where Has My Mezuzah Gone? Oh Where, Oh Were Can It Be?

So I was ever so psyched to hang my good-old mezuzah on my tent post. Now I can't find it. I either donated in my furious spree to get rid of the old or I'm storing it somewhere. At any rate, it isn't here with me on my tent post like I would wish it to be. Schade.

It's a beautiful day out today, but I'm waiting to talk to my supervisor because I signed up for a guild that will help me be and it starts the same time as my first shift. I'd rather go to the class, but that's because at my core I am a lazy, lazy person. Sad.

Well, that's all for now. It's so pretty out that I'm going to outside and stare at the pretty, pretty flowers. Did I mention the flowers? They are pretty.

Only been here two days and already I could write a book...

Really, I don't know where to begin. Funny that when I'm walking around or in my tent, I feel full of words. It just flows. This place is soooo beautiful. But it's more than the trees, groundhogs or gophers (I don't know what they are), the deer and the bunnies and--oh, the flowers. It's something else. Time moves differently here. My speed. Actually, slower. More mindful. More aware. More grateful. It's amazing.

My stomach was not hurting, but things were loose, to be polite, for the past day or so. I noticed how quickly I eat. Around the same time, I just became aware of how quickly I walk. How much I stomp along to get from point A to B. It was like that leaving Philly. I was so focused on getting gone that for most of the last few months, I wasn't in Philadelphia anymore. I was so far gone that I fell in love and completely missed it because I was not where I was.

Here it's just easy to draw my attention back to the now. Everything about Omega brings my awareness simply to where I am right now. Sure I get distracted. Yesterday, I sat by a brook watching bees pollinate irises thinking of how I fought not even to acknowledge that I was even brokenhearted and I lost track of the beauty of the brook until a bee buzzed close. It snapped me back. I shed my tear and moved on.

Today. I started the practice of consciously being grateful for whatever day came to me two years ago, but today was the kind of day I've dreamed about. I woke up when I was done sleeping. I dressed how I felt like dressing. Today's color is pink. It's good times. It even rained so I got to rock my kickin' rain boots. I wish I could do justice to this day with words, but I can't. All I know is that my whole life has been a series of interesting disasters that even if my life never becomes anymore than it is right now--well it was well worth it.

Here I can speak my mind without seeming weird, overly profound or flat out crazy. Here it's okay to get distracted by falling seeds and leaves. Here is the place I've been inside for years now. Maybe even all my life. Here it's okay to be myself. All my self. All the time. There are so many things I want to get out of this time here, but I think the only thing I can guarantee is that come October, I'll still be me but unabashedly so. It's good.

I wanted to write so much more about how so many of the conversations I keep having are about marriage and that today I curled up in a window seat and read a picture book about sacred papercuttings after pushing more hay under my tent with a rake to avoid getting wet. And just how good that felt. What a day. I get to stay here for another five months. I am blessed beyond measure.

I Only Panicked on the Ride...

It's true. We're tooling along towards the Omega Institute, about forty-five minutes away, and for the life of me, I just wanted to seize the steering wheel and turn that huge SUV back towards--where? Not Philadelphia. I love Philadelphia, but I need a break from it. It needs a break from me. Anywhere. I just panicked. I wanted to run somewhere far away. The prospect of living in a tent. Surrounded by people who don't grimace as they walk down the street. Too much. I kept saying, "I am actually doing this. I can't believe that I'm really doing this."

And then I arrived. I walked on the campus. I set up the tent. I listened to the bullfrogs sing their bass song as I got settled in. I tried to remember the last time I moved in somewhere and on the first day there tried to get settled in. I couldn't. The humble tent seems so wonderful. Small. Silent. Mine. And the frogs sing on.

Now, I'm sleepy and curious to whether or not I'll be able to sleep. Getting here has been such a journey for me. I've never relied so heavily and unabashedly on God in my life. To be honest, it's nice. Better than nice. I don't have the words. I just feel bathed in LOVE. It's glorious. Well, I'm going to find my tent now. I walked around to get my bearings. I'm kinda lost now. But that's okay. It's the point.