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.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
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?
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?
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, July 13, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
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.
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