Passionately seeking the divine, wanting experiences of light and emptiness, courting a transformative alliance with the kundalini energy, I have been driven for several years now by a strange compulsion to embody something greater than my own sorry self.
I have embraced a ferocious discipline and spiritual asceticism, have gone through periods of almost militant practice routines, have pushed myself through resistance, through injury, through despair and isolation.
I have slowly learned to allow gentleness and love to creep into my practice. I have been shown the true healing potential of yoga and meditation, but for some bizarre reason have stubbornly refused to allow myself to enjoy the grace and acceptance of unconditional divine love. I have been ashamed of my all too human nature.
I have sought to pull back the curtain that veils my eye, to tap forcefully the currents of transcendant energy from which we all originate, to justify my fear of mortality through escape of the confines of my individual self. I wagered that as long as I could, in fact, make it out, then my fear would finally be irrelevant.
I have desperately craved a return to moments of blissful meditation, rapture, and pure mental absorption, equal to or beyond the experiences I have already been given. I have prioritized only one goal - to curate a trove of spiritual materialism.
And now, I have given up.
I have let go of this notion that attainment will lead to perfection. I have seen that transcendence is essentially empty to a spiritual being who has chosen a human experience. I looked into that abyss, and saw eagerly and with some bafflement that I was ready to be healed, be whole, just be.
Even though the wound is unfamiliar, the compulsion to escape into practice is one I know well. What exactly am I practicing for?
It´s like this: the Sanskrit word for illusion, maya, literally means ¨not that.¨ It´s a realization born out of confrontation with the nature of one´s own mind, a realization that all elements of human experience (mind, thoughts, sensations, ego identity, etc etc) cannot be identified as abolute truth. I have seen the blade cut itself, have pierced the veil most unexpectedly.
All that´s left now is to live the fullest, most compassionte life of service, love, surrender, and joy.
It came to me like a whisper. I see it now as an awakening.
I flow from here into the complete unknown.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
my heart
it's not me, but certainly one of the most
intimate and
essential parts of myself.
the one i cannot convince by force
of persuasion logic or necessity.
if my heart is the ocean,
then i'm in the boat without paddles or compass.
i wager my time by augury, for in the waves
i see the changes
as the ocean's temper turns.
and with every new turn,
the impossible door opens. looking upon miracles,
immovable witness, my humble bark surges forward.
intimate and
essential parts of myself.
the one i cannot convince by force
of persuasion logic or necessity.
if my heart is the ocean,
then i'm in the boat without paddles or compass.
i wager my time by augury, for in the waves
i see the changes
as the ocean's temper turns.
and with every new turn,
the impossible door opens. looking upon miracles,
immovable witness, my humble bark surges forward.
Monday, October 13, 2008
"...and best of all is surrender, which soon brings peace."
Prayer is the essential aspect that I have been missing in my practice. After all, what exactly am I practicing for? Without prayer, this practice is devoid of, outside, and separate from the divine; it's an ego echo chamber, a dark telescope, the devil's own chain. Again and again the shadow whispers poison, the ego self-aggrandizes, and the broken soul desperately longs for the next spiritual fix.
Prayer, as I have been learning, is more then just a place of communion with the divine, but instead the earnest quality of seeking that out. It's a place where surrender and love truly emerge, a cup overflowing with gratitude and grace. I've recently been discovering new qualities about grace, how grace is like a womb of love in which we are submerged. Being loved exactly as we are, regardless of mistakes, flaws, achievements, qualities, or skill. Completely unconditional. Completely constant.
So I'm playing this new edge where every practice becomes a prayer, a way to open up and recognize how grace surrounds me, guides me, and holds me. A way to step outside of my own mind and orient with something higher, brighter, and kinder than my own ego-projections. Maybe with practice I can remain mindful enough to dedicate all of my actions to the holy spirit, the immanent life-force, the compassionate, the terrible. What a blessing to behold!
Meditate on the Guide,
the Giver of all, the Primordial
Poet, smaller than an atom,
unthinkable, brilliant as the sun.
~Bhagavad Gita, 8.9
Prayer, as I have been learning, is more then just a place of communion with the divine, but instead the earnest quality of seeking that out. It's a place where surrender and love truly emerge, a cup overflowing with gratitude and grace. I've recently been discovering new qualities about grace, how grace is like a womb of love in which we are submerged. Being loved exactly as we are, regardless of mistakes, flaws, achievements, qualities, or skill. Completely unconditional. Completely constant.
So I'm playing this new edge where every practice becomes a prayer, a way to open up and recognize how grace surrounds me, guides me, and holds me. A way to step outside of my own mind and orient with something higher, brighter, and kinder than my own ego-projections. Maybe with practice I can remain mindful enough to dedicate all of my actions to the holy spirit, the immanent life-force, the compassionate, the terrible. What a blessing to behold!
Meditate on the Guide,
the Giver of all, the Primordial
Poet, smaller than an atom,
unthinkable, brilliant as the sun.
~Bhagavad Gita, 8.9
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I was stunned
[In the late 1970s, Rachel, a young girl of eleven, was kidnapped, raped, beaten and murdered. Ram Dass wrote the following letter to her parents...]
Dear Steve and Anita,
Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.
I can't assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel's legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.
Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience. In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.
Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts – if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me.
In love,
Ram Dass
Dear Steve and Anita,
Rachel finished her work on earth, and left the stage in a manner that leaves those of us left behind with a cry of agony in our hearts, as the fragile thread of our faith is dealt with so violently. Is anyone strong enough to stay conscious through such teaching as you are receiving? Probably very few. And even they would only have a whisper of equanimity and peace amidst the screaming trumpets of their rage, grief, horror and desolation.
I can't assuage your pain with any words, nor should I. For your pain is Rachel's legacy to you. Not that she or I would inflict such pain by choice, but there it is. And it must burn its purifying way to completion. For something in you dies when you bear the unbearable, and it is only in that dark night of the soul that you are prepared to see as God sees, and to love as God loves.
Now is the time to let your grief find expression. No false strength. Now is the time to sit quietly and speak to Rachel, and thank her for being with you these few years, and encourage her to go on with whatever her work is, knowing that you will grow in compassion and wisdom from this experience. In my heart, I know that you and she will meet again and again, and recognize the many ways in which you have known each other. And when you meet you will know, in a flash, what now it is not given to you to know: Why this had to be the way it was.
Our rational minds can never understand what has happened, but our hearts – if we can keep them open to God – will find their own intuitive way. Rachel came through you to do her work on earth, which includes her manner of death. Now her soul is free, and the love that you can share with her is invulnerable to the winds of changing time and space. In that deep love, include me.
In love,
Ram Dass
Friday, September 5, 2008
witches dancing, spiraling around
This was my first time playing with the police state, witnessing its true form. Hardly a surprise, but I don't see anything of what we accomplished in the news media. There are no pictures of the thousands that lined up to march against the war and this wretched administration. Only a few photos of anarchist kids being roughed by riot cops.
The picture the media paints is so distorted and biased that it might as well have been fabricated two weeks before we even got here. Meanwhile I see full-page spreads with photos of McCain in a rain of confetti. We must tell the story of what happened here ourselves, just as we organize ourselves to care for each other and stand together in court solidarity. In the world we are creating, we organize to provide for all our own needs. By the people for the people, right?
Lisa was telling me last night about how direct action depends a lot on opening up space. We take an intersection or make a press conference to hold a space - physical, emotional, or intellectual - which we can claim as our own, as an assembly of people marking their dissent from the forces of governance. It might not seem like much given the extent of damage done by the state, but I still believe our action is potent magic. Whether we are merely witnessing that violence or exhausting its dark rage in our resolute commitment to peace and justice, whether we are struggling to keep the fire alight or fanning the flames of evolutionary consciousness, I know without a doubt that our energy and our efforts were not in vain.
The picture the media paints is so distorted and biased that it might as well have been fabricated two weeks before we even got here. Meanwhile I see full-page spreads with photos of McCain in a rain of confetti. We must tell the story of what happened here ourselves, just as we organize ourselves to care for each other and stand together in court solidarity. In the world we are creating, we organize to provide for all our own needs. By the people for the people, right?
Lisa was telling me last night about how direct action depends a lot on opening up space. We take an intersection or make a press conference to hold a space - physical, emotional, or intellectual - which we can claim as our own, as an assembly of people marking their dissent from the forces of governance. It might not seem like much given the extent of damage done by the state, but I still believe our action is potent magic. Whether we are merely witnessing that violence or exhausting its dark rage in our resolute commitment to peace and justice, whether we are struggling to keep the fire alight or fanning the flames of evolutionary consciousness, I know without a doubt that our energy and our efforts were not in vain.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
2 minutes of violence and a lot of buraucratic boredom
my arrest story is a lot less interesting than many others i have heard - but not so insignificant that it didn't hold a few curious revelations for me.
out of the entire cluster, i was the only one who expressed an actual desire to get arrested. not because i thought it was glamorous or anything stupid like that, but because the police have that much less power to intimidate me once i've gone through their bullshit. i don't pretend that this action really exposed me to the same kind of threat which might normally be experienced by someone from marginalized or third world communities. for them the brutality of the police state can have a much deadlier or devastating kind of impact, even rob them of their entire lives. still, in a critical way i've begun my own move away from the safety of my privilege, which brings me closer, step by step, into solidarity with those who experience the brunt of state violence.
my arrest - 2 minutes of violence and a lot of bureaucratic boredom. i was tackled roughly by some riot cops, my pants torn and my knees slammed on the pavement. my hand was cut on the gears of their bicycle, which they somehow used to pin me down. it was over quickly, and then i tried to stand tall and find my grounding again. the pagan cluster was screaming and cheering for me, and the intense blast of supporting energy they sent me nearly overwhelmed me in tears.
in fact, i was having trouble keeping my emotions in check, because i felt like weeping but i didn't want to break down in the streets. it didn't feel like a safe place, not in front of the cops and not the cameras, but i also felt like the biggest tool in existence for crying at such a staged fiasco. still, my body doesn't always agree with my mind, and i could feel my eyes starting to leak.
my friend paul followed me back across the police line. i could see him on the sidewalk from the state trooper car. he stayed with me and stood watch, and even when they moved me several blocks down the street he followed in his vigil. it was extremely comforting to have him there with me. i felt very blessed to have such support.
and then slowly i realized something very useful. i have worked hard to open my heart chakra in the past four years, and i typically run full-charged and open in that area. i've also developed a lot more sensitivity than i previously used to have, which is why small things in life (or even another person's sorrow) can cause me to start crying.
but in that situation, such a wide open heart was making it difficult to focus, so i did something i've never deliberately done before, i closed my heart and throat chakra. if i let off for a moment it would spring back open, but with a bit of focus and persistence i managed to dial down those centers to a bare whisper. sure enough, i couldn't feel the tears in the same way, i could rest composed (and closed) so that i could focus my energy in other ways.
what is the utility of apathy? i don't know, and heaven help me if one day i ever have to find out. there is a reason why a smile is a weakness in prison.
the rest of my story is less than interesting. it's a lot like the most boring parts of going to the doctor's office. tell the receptionist your name and information. make a copy of your driver's license. go sit here. now sit here. (at which point i found myself sitting next to a furious amy goodman, but that's another story) i was out in less than four hours, didn't even spend the night in a jail cell.
thankfully now i've been cured of my unhealthy desire for arrest. but it also had an unintended effect - now i'm even more inspired for healthy dissent and direct action.
out of the entire cluster, i was the only one who expressed an actual desire to get arrested. not because i thought it was glamorous or anything stupid like that, but because the police have that much less power to intimidate me once i've gone through their bullshit. i don't pretend that this action really exposed me to the same kind of threat which might normally be experienced by someone from marginalized or third world communities. for them the brutality of the police state can have a much deadlier or devastating kind of impact, even rob them of their entire lives. still, in a critical way i've begun my own move away from the safety of my privilege, which brings me closer, step by step, into solidarity with those who experience the brunt of state violence.
my arrest - 2 minutes of violence and a lot of bureaucratic boredom. i was tackled roughly by some riot cops, my pants torn and my knees slammed on the pavement. my hand was cut on the gears of their bicycle, which they somehow used to pin me down. it was over quickly, and then i tried to stand tall and find my grounding again. the pagan cluster was screaming and cheering for me, and the intense blast of supporting energy they sent me nearly overwhelmed me in tears.
in fact, i was having trouble keeping my emotions in check, because i felt like weeping but i didn't want to break down in the streets. it didn't feel like a safe place, not in front of the cops and not the cameras, but i also felt like the biggest tool in existence for crying at such a staged fiasco. still, my body doesn't always agree with my mind, and i could feel my eyes starting to leak.
my friend paul followed me back across the police line. i could see him on the sidewalk from the state trooper car. he stayed with me and stood watch, and even when they moved me several blocks down the street he followed in his vigil. it was extremely comforting to have him there with me. i felt very blessed to have such support.
and then slowly i realized something very useful. i have worked hard to open my heart chakra in the past four years, and i typically run full-charged and open in that area. i've also developed a lot more sensitivity than i previously used to have, which is why small things in life (or even another person's sorrow) can cause me to start crying.
but in that situation, such a wide open heart was making it difficult to focus, so i did something i've never deliberately done before, i closed my heart and throat chakra. if i let off for a moment it would spring back open, but with a bit of focus and persistence i managed to dial down those centers to a bare whisper. sure enough, i couldn't feel the tears in the same way, i could rest composed (and closed) so that i could focus my energy in other ways.
what is the utility of apathy? i don't know, and heaven help me if one day i ever have to find out. there is a reason why a smile is a weakness in prison.
the rest of my story is less than interesting. it's a lot like the most boring parts of going to the doctor's office. tell the receptionist your name and information. make a copy of your driver's license. go sit here. now sit here. (at which point i found myself sitting next to a furious amy goodman, but that's another story) i was out in less than four hours, didn't even spend the night in a jail cell.
thankfully now i've been cured of my unhealthy desire for arrest. but it also had an unintended effect - now i'm even more inspired for healthy dissent and direct action.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
faces in the streets
Lines of riot cops, squads of cops on bicycles and horses. Protesters in black bloc, hippies, and pagans. Queers and queens and commies and students. Delegates in suits and the curious apathy of bystanders.
In every face, in every person, both friendly or hostile, I am noticing a continuous thread. It's something which I cannot name but recognize intimately. Something spacious. Something with the quiet pull of boundless compassion. Something like trust, or faith, or the acknowledgment of the goodness of life.
Behind that mask of ego, behind the web of contingency out of which you spin your identity, what I see and recognize is the pulsing groovy energy which drives this entire cosmological clock. And no matter what differences I notice in our appearances, our likes and dislikes, our political opinions or sexual preferences, that underlying life-stuff remains whole and undifferentiated.
It's a trippy place to be. Running in the streets I carry these two frames of reference (along with others) as I try to resolve what is happening. As I try to figure out who I am and what actions I should take. Try to understand struggle and dissent, creativity and resistance, acceptance, love, and (r)evolution. I feel passionately that this perspective is essential to approaching the situation with the right view. Yet I also feel passionately that justice and peace are things worth standing up for, and that the masters of war and the barons of greed are enemies of peace that must be confronted.
Mystic radical yogis for direct action, to the streets!
In every face, in every person, both friendly or hostile, I am noticing a continuous thread. It's something which I cannot name but recognize intimately. Something spacious. Something with the quiet pull of boundless compassion. Something like trust, or faith, or the acknowledgment of the goodness of life.
Behind that mask of ego, behind the web of contingency out of which you spin your identity, what I see and recognize is the pulsing groovy energy which drives this entire cosmological clock. And no matter what differences I notice in our appearances, our likes and dislikes, our political opinions or sexual preferences, that underlying life-stuff remains whole and undifferentiated.
It's a trippy place to be. Running in the streets I carry these two frames of reference (along with others) as I try to resolve what is happening. As I try to figure out who I am and what actions I should take. Try to understand struggle and dissent, creativity and resistance, acceptance, love, and (r)evolution. I feel passionately that this perspective is essential to approaching the situation with the right view. Yet I also feel passionately that justice and peace are things worth standing up for, and that the masters of war and the barons of greed are enemies of peace that must be confronted.
Mystic radical yogis for direct action, to the streets!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)