The purpose of the journey is the journey itself.
Be good at what you do, and better at who you are.
Live in the land of "and". (not but)
Tomorrow is promised to no one.
If you get rid of the how, you'll get into the now.
There is perfection in imperfection.
Worrying is like praying for the worst to happen.
Just for today, I will not worry.
Dare to dream.
Contribute, don't condemn or try to convert.
Treat the Earth well, it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children.
The sword that is you is already complete. Mastery is a lifelong journey or a process, not a destination or a point.
Synthesis instead of analysis.
Create space, and you'll have space to create.
Love everyone, choose who you like.
There is a gift inside every wound.
It's OK to have (blank), it's not OK to let (blank) have you.
As you believe, so it is.
A spirit having a human experience, not a human having a spiritual experience.
Be the change you wish to see in the world.
Let your light shine bright, and you unconsciously give other permission to do the same.
Only love is real.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
There is Perfection in Life's Imperfection
I'm sitting next to an oak tree in the middle of nowhere, Indiana, and as I'm watching a caterpillar pull itself up to a branch, I am in contemplation mode. The 3-hour sweat lodge ceremony I facilitated ended an hour ago, and I'm needing some alone time to help ground my energy and commune with nature, before I reconvene with friends to bang on the guitar and sing some songs. It is the proverbial pause that refreshes. The equivalent of cleansing one's palette by eating a piece of ginger in between pieces of delicious sushi. While in the lodge, the role as leader/facilitator is to hold space for the participants so they can process what they need to, and now that it has ended, I'm letting Mother Earth hold space for me. What does "holding space" mean? Isn't that phrase counter-intuitive?
Holding space for others is about letting things unfold for them. Letting life happen with them. Allowing. Letting go. Simply being.
In the sweat lodge, 'holding space' is part creating and maintaining a safe environment for people to explore themselves, their wounds, their past, as they search for the "medicine", or wisdom that lies inside of them. 'Holding space' is part divine indifference, respecting that even though one's mind may think it sees problems that one could "fix", partially because they mirror one's own path, that one then chooses to stay out of the way, out of judgment, knowing everyone has their own sacred path, and life lessons to live and learn. The visual of a hollow root comes to mind, visible for everyone to see, and completely open and transparent so nothing gets caught. I am this hollow root. As for what we CAN do, is share one's own process, one's own experiences, in the hopes that it adds to anothers, which, is the ultimate intent for this blog. It is part respecting the traditional forms, whilst acknowledging the inherent death/re-birth paradox of the cycle of life that every tradition begins with a first year.
It is mostly seeing the perfection in all life's imperfection.
I hadn't ever been conditioned to this line of thinking. For most of my life, I have been "destination-oriented". Win the game, get the trophy, make the grade, beat the benchmark. And this isn't a bad or a good thing. It just is. I learned things like perserverance, independence, hard work, teamwork, drive. And they still exist for me, it's just they have a different voice, that of the caterpillar.
I used to try to save things, and rescue things, whether it be a relationship that just has outlasted its time or utility, a bad business idea, how 'bout all that shit that piles up in your garage that you never use? It amounts to stuck, or stale energy. There is a cycle to all things. We can either listen to our hearts and flow with it, or we can rationalize it ten ways under the sun, even though it doesn't feel right. We humans are dynamic creatures, always evolving, always shifting, whether we know it or not. The pattern for me would be to try to make things happen, instead of letting things unfold. The metaphor would be that I would see someone tied up on the train tracks, with a train coming right at them, and want to be the hero that saved them, but the train and the rope were both in my head. My ego. Our perceptions form our beliefs, and the great thing is quantum science allows that we can tune into a different channel on the perception radio station anytime we choose. More on that later.
I would try to take people's pain away, thinking pain meant something was wrong, not realizing then that the gift of pain is usually where grace is found. Where wisdom is found. Healers don't "heal", they facilitate healings. Healers don't fix, they help people help themselves.
You know that biblical saying, "give a man a fish, he eats for a day, teach a man to fish, he eats for life". There is some truth to that. Of course, I'll mess with my healer friends and say, "Just gimme one fucking fish, one fish, one nugget of wisdom.......and stop trying to teach me how you fish, I already know how to fish." They'll throw it back and say, "if you knew how to fish, you wouldn't be asking for a meal", lol.
Imagine though if you could glean just one wisdom nugget from everyone who crossed your path, no matter who or what they were or believed, what their skin color, gender, age, or whether or not they ate tuna tartare, Cheerios, rice, or Skittles for breakfast.
That is a lot of nuggets.
And that is the essence of abundance, and when you tap into that, it(abundance) will permeate all areas of your life.
Learning what to do is often a direct result of learning what not to do. I like peanut butter, I like tuna fish. I don't like them on the same sandwich. I don't like rhubarb, but I like to say rhubarb. I think 2 times zero should be 2, but since 6 billion other sentient human beings think 2 times zero is zero, I roll with it and figure out how to live in the latter's world.
Where was I?
The shamanic and Eastern view of pain is that it can be a communication, pain is transformative. Pain is OK, suffering is often time a choice we make, and it is up to us to choose different. It has been my experience that diving into that wound, or that pain, we learn our most amazing truths. Of who we are. And why we're here.
Three years ago, I had a chronically painful right elbow for a couple of years and had to wear a brace. By the end of every day, I couldn't lift my arm. My muscles were atrophying from no exercise. It was affecting my sleep patterns. I type a lot, I exercise a ton, I write, and no, it wasn't from too much masturbation, not that there's anything wrong with that for the readers who do. "Severe Tendinitis"-I was told. I had tried everything I could think of--physical therapy, acupuncture, massage, meditation, stretching, chiropractry, herbs, rest, diet, yadda, yadda, yadda. I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to bear this in some form for the rest of my life. It never occurred to me that I was married to this pain, or that in some way this pain was serving my need for attention or need to play victim, or something. It was keeping me from actively participating in life. With a fucked up arm, I had an excuse(limiting) to not have to do my job the best I could, to say no to learning certain healing modalities, to say no to yoga/tai chi, to say no to playing the guitar, and then being able to tell a story about why I wasn't able to live my dream.
I did still keep searching. I came upon a bookstore seminar, one that I didn't understand, but sang to my Spirit. Fuck it, what do have to lose, I thought? I said yes. I went and learned how to re-wire my brain's limiting belief systems, using a modality called Psych-K, or psychological kinesiology. (www.psych-k.com) A good way to describe it, is it gets our "station" in tune with the signal, gets rid of the noise, makes our brain filter clear, so we can attract what it is that we need or ask for in this life.
Within 2 weeks, I meet another physical therapist, who tells me that he can help and to come into his office. On the first visit:
P-Trainer Guy: "it's not tendinitis Eric, it's your ulnar nerve that's trapped"
'In english, please.'
~(Eric in meditation): "your massive ego and narcissism are keeping you from accessing your true gifts, and leading an authentic life that is living on purpose."~
(wait a minute, who or what said that)
P-Trainer Guy: "Your nerve signals are messed up, and it's distorting the messages your muscles are receiving. I'll have you back up and runnin in less than 2 months." Snap.
True. And what occurred was I was able to meet someone who was able to help me get directly to the source, or where the root pain existed, rather than just treat the sympton. (enter light bulb, or angelic realms opening...laaaaaaaa) And I got to the source myself, which would just begin the journey of integrating the newfound awareness.
That's it. Get to the source. Get to know, and then take out, the "general" of problematic wound, and all the "soldiers" of pain surrender. Then, one can act as witness to things that happened. The metaphors are many. Unfortunately, while our medical system has blessed us with amazing evolutionary things such as anti-biotics, and brilliant surgeries, too much emphasis is focused on treating the symptoms, or getting rid of the pain. (with drugs). I feel that most people want the truth, and want to know the roots of their pain, be it emotional, physical, or spiritual. They just don't have someone, or a community of loving someones, that hold space for them to explore.
After the lodge, my friend Linda, gives me an offering. On the surface, it is just another moment in time. It is tradition to make an offering to the medicine person, or lodge facilitator, as an exchange for the healings that have occurred, yet there is no expectation of said offering. When I am in service, it is unconditional. I consider Linda not only a mentor and teacher, but a spiritual mother. She has held space for me for years, watching me grow, watching me stumble, watching me learn how to literally walk--my path. Holding space and watching me learn how to speak---my true voice. Holding space and watching me unfold. She has watched me stumble into learning about reverence(for life), while accepting that my punk-ass indigo energy is part of who I am. She saw the healer in me long before I was ready to accept it as my path. She encouraged the musician in me long before I was ready to sing or play. When I was experiencing some dark moments, she provided room to grow(and a hug or 3) until I was ready to bring them into the light. Unconditional love.
She has held space for me, and shared her process along the way.
I have watched her work through her fears of speaking and writing, and now she has written books, recorded CDs, and speaks in front of many. I have watched her process the losing of loved ones that hurt and made no sense, only to share those lessons with me and many others. I have watched her lose a business, only to see her create a community. I have watched her process this human experience. Her life process, or life journey, has added to mine.
She is an amazing woman, and as I like to say, all of this might be true, but not because I said it.
It is true for me. It is my truth. Only you can decide what your truth is, just as you and only you, are responsible for your own healing. Linda has gently stretched my universal spectrum, knowing it takes time for eyes to adjust to brighter light. That is what I call holding space.
And while there have been many who have done this for me, including some of the participants and bright lights in this particular sweat lodge, Linda has embodied it for me longer than anyone.
Linda came to the lodge for healing, for growth, for clarity. When she gave me the offering, it dawned on me that I had just held space for her. It is a privilege, and an honor, that someone you trust, trusts you to hold that space for them, and that is, in my humble opinion, the greatest gift you can give. She was willing to receive, for if we don't receive, we take away someone else's gift of giving.
Sacred reciprocity. An exchange over time. I was able to give back and hold the space in the same way which she learned me. You give AND you receive. Create space to have space to create. We do this for each other. A prayer I like and recited in this particular lodge, is simply,
"may you see that which you need to see, and hear that which you need to hear."
I rub my feet in the soft grass, and lay back with my arms behind my head, and I see there is a caterpillar hanging from a branch and I am observing this caterpillar for about 20 minutes. I feel like I am communicating with it telepathically, and even if that's a stretch of reality, the metaphors that are appearing in my mind and into my awareness are very real, and are synthesizing several fragmented ideas in my head, while crystallizing and spawning some new ones as well. I'm inside the "what" of what one might call conscious awareness, and it's easy for me to let go of the "how" this is occurring. My heart is smiling, and trying to figure out why would simply take me out of the moment.
The caterpillar has made little tangible progress, and I can tell it's going to take it all day, if not longer to arrive at its destination. The purpose of the journey is the journey itself. I wonder if the caterpillar is enjoying its journey. Am I enjoying mine?
I am.
To be sure, there are days, or moments, that don't taste so fantastic. Like someone "peed in your bowl of cosmic chili". The real learning occurs when you realize you were the one doing the urinating, and you were following your own recipe. Or, perhaps, you receive a letter in the mail, and it is full of advice you don't want to hear, or feel doesn't apply to you, so you put it back in the mailbox "Return to Sender". A day later you find out that YOU are the sender.
This is how our higher self communicates lessons to us, how it nudges us along until we remember who we are. The gift of the human experience, and its duality is that by learning what doesn't feel, taste, or sound good to us, we then have a frame for what does. Like that peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich. The great news is we have the ability(free will) to change our life recipe, or how we perceive it.
The caterpillar I am watching is in the process of beginning its sojourn to form the chrysallis from which a beautiful butterfly will emerge. I realize how interconnected the caterpillar journey is with that of the butterflys. From there, how connected our human paths are to that of the caterpillar's long transformation. It clicks in how much the sum of all of my more dense caterpillar-like experiences(read: shitty ones(at the time)) are connected to those lighter ones I associate with that of a flying butterfly. My 5 year-old daughter is perfect, and in every way. She is my inspiration, and so helped learn unconditional love. In learning how to nurture her, I have learned to nurture myself. In learning how to nurture myself, how to nurture my ideas, my art, my voice.
It follows that every perfect Daddy day of present moments that I share with my daughter, is connected with every imperfect moment that came before it, or before her, good or bad. Suddenly, I see the inherent perfection in all prior imperfections.
Imperfection broken down = I'm perfection, or I am perfection.
I take a pinch of tobacco from my medicine bag, and offer it in gratitude to the caterpillar and the Earth for this time, and head back to the group to play some guitar around the campfire.
I know the night is going to be a joy, and full of kindred spirits and laughter, and I'm not worried about hitting the perfect note, or singing the perfect song, for I know now more than ever:
There is perfection in imperfection.
Aho,
Eric
Holding space for others is about letting things unfold for them. Letting life happen with them. Allowing. Letting go. Simply being.
In the sweat lodge, 'holding space' is part creating and maintaining a safe environment for people to explore themselves, their wounds, their past, as they search for the "medicine", or wisdom that lies inside of them. 'Holding space' is part divine indifference, respecting that even though one's mind may think it sees problems that one could "fix", partially because they mirror one's own path, that one then chooses to stay out of the way, out of judgment, knowing everyone has their own sacred path, and life lessons to live and learn. The visual of a hollow root comes to mind, visible for everyone to see, and completely open and transparent so nothing gets caught. I am this hollow root. As for what we CAN do, is share one's own process, one's own experiences, in the hopes that it adds to anothers, which, is the ultimate intent for this blog. It is part respecting the traditional forms, whilst acknowledging the inherent death/re-birth paradox of the cycle of life that every tradition begins with a first year.
It is mostly seeing the perfection in all life's imperfection.
I hadn't ever been conditioned to this line of thinking. For most of my life, I have been "destination-oriented". Win the game, get the trophy, make the grade, beat the benchmark. And this isn't a bad or a good thing. It just is. I learned things like perserverance, independence, hard work, teamwork, drive. And they still exist for me, it's just they have a different voice, that of the caterpillar.
I used to try to save things, and rescue things, whether it be a relationship that just has outlasted its time or utility, a bad business idea, how 'bout all that shit that piles up in your garage that you never use? It amounts to stuck, or stale energy. There is a cycle to all things. We can either listen to our hearts and flow with it, or we can rationalize it ten ways under the sun, even though it doesn't feel right. We humans are dynamic creatures, always evolving, always shifting, whether we know it or not. The pattern for me would be to try to make things happen, instead of letting things unfold. The metaphor would be that I would see someone tied up on the train tracks, with a train coming right at them, and want to be the hero that saved them, but the train and the rope were both in my head. My ego. Our perceptions form our beliefs, and the great thing is quantum science allows that we can tune into a different channel on the perception radio station anytime we choose. More on that later.
I would try to take people's pain away, thinking pain meant something was wrong, not realizing then that the gift of pain is usually where grace is found. Where wisdom is found. Healers don't "heal", they facilitate healings. Healers don't fix, they help people help themselves.
You know that biblical saying, "give a man a fish, he eats for a day, teach a man to fish, he eats for life". There is some truth to that. Of course, I'll mess with my healer friends and say, "Just gimme one fucking fish, one fish, one nugget of wisdom.......and stop trying to teach me how you fish, I already know how to fish." They'll throw it back and say, "if you knew how to fish, you wouldn't be asking for a meal", lol.
Imagine though if you could glean just one wisdom nugget from everyone who crossed your path, no matter who or what they were or believed, what their skin color, gender, age, or whether or not they ate tuna tartare, Cheerios, rice, or Skittles for breakfast.
That is a lot of nuggets.
And that is the essence of abundance, and when you tap into that, it(abundance) will permeate all areas of your life.
Learning what to do is often a direct result of learning what not to do. I like peanut butter, I like tuna fish. I don't like them on the same sandwich. I don't like rhubarb, but I like to say rhubarb. I think 2 times zero should be 2, but since 6 billion other sentient human beings think 2 times zero is zero, I roll with it and figure out how to live in the latter's world.
Where was I?
The shamanic and Eastern view of pain is that it can be a communication, pain is transformative. Pain is OK, suffering is often time a choice we make, and it is up to us to choose different. It has been my experience that diving into that wound, or that pain, we learn our most amazing truths. Of who we are. And why we're here.
Three years ago, I had a chronically painful right elbow for a couple of years and had to wear a brace. By the end of every day, I couldn't lift my arm. My muscles were atrophying from no exercise. It was affecting my sleep patterns. I type a lot, I exercise a ton, I write, and no, it wasn't from too much masturbation, not that there's anything wrong with that for the readers who do. "Severe Tendinitis"-I was told. I had tried everything I could think of--physical therapy, acupuncture, massage, meditation, stretching, chiropractry, herbs, rest, diet, yadda, yadda, yadda. I had resigned myself to the fact that I would have to bear this in some form for the rest of my life. It never occurred to me that I was married to this pain, or that in some way this pain was serving my need for attention or need to play victim, or something. It was keeping me from actively participating in life. With a fucked up arm, I had an excuse(limiting) to not have to do my job the best I could, to say no to learning certain healing modalities, to say no to yoga/tai chi, to say no to playing the guitar, and then being able to tell a story about why I wasn't able to live my dream.
I did still keep searching. I came upon a bookstore seminar, one that I didn't understand, but sang to my Spirit. Fuck it, what do have to lose, I thought? I said yes. I went and learned how to re-wire my brain's limiting belief systems, using a modality called Psych-K, or psychological kinesiology. (www.psych-k.com) A good way to describe it, is it gets our "station" in tune with the signal, gets rid of the noise, makes our brain filter clear, so we can attract what it is that we need or ask for in this life.
Within 2 weeks, I meet another physical therapist, who tells me that he can help and to come into his office. On the first visit:
P-Trainer Guy: "it's not tendinitis Eric, it's your ulnar nerve that's trapped"
'In english, please.'
~(Eric in meditation): "your massive ego and narcissism are keeping you from accessing your true gifts, and leading an authentic life that is living on purpose."~
(wait a minute, who or what said that)
P-Trainer Guy: "Your nerve signals are messed up, and it's distorting the messages your muscles are receiving. I'll have you back up and runnin in less than 2 months." Snap.
True. And what occurred was I was able to meet someone who was able to help me get directly to the source, or where the root pain existed, rather than just treat the sympton. (enter light bulb, or angelic realms opening...laaaaaaaa) And I got to the source myself, which would just begin the journey of integrating the newfound awareness.
That's it. Get to the source. Get to know, and then take out, the "general" of problematic wound, and all the "soldiers" of pain surrender. Then, one can act as witness to things that happened. The metaphors are many. Unfortunately, while our medical system has blessed us with amazing evolutionary things such as anti-biotics, and brilliant surgeries, too much emphasis is focused on treating the symptoms, or getting rid of the pain. (with drugs). I feel that most people want the truth, and want to know the roots of their pain, be it emotional, physical, or spiritual. They just don't have someone, or a community of loving someones, that hold space for them to explore.
After the lodge, my friend Linda, gives me an offering. On the surface, it is just another moment in time. It is tradition to make an offering to the medicine person, or lodge facilitator, as an exchange for the healings that have occurred, yet there is no expectation of said offering. When I am in service, it is unconditional. I consider Linda not only a mentor and teacher, but a spiritual mother. She has held space for me for years, watching me grow, watching me stumble, watching me learn how to literally walk--my path. Holding space and watching me learn how to speak---my true voice. Holding space and watching me unfold. She has watched me stumble into learning about reverence(for life), while accepting that my punk-ass indigo energy is part of who I am. She saw the healer in me long before I was ready to accept it as my path. She encouraged the musician in me long before I was ready to sing or play. When I was experiencing some dark moments, she provided room to grow(and a hug or 3) until I was ready to bring them into the light. Unconditional love.
She has held space for me, and shared her process along the way.
I have watched her work through her fears of speaking and writing, and now she has written books, recorded CDs, and speaks in front of many. I have watched her process the losing of loved ones that hurt and made no sense, only to share those lessons with me and many others. I have watched her lose a business, only to see her create a community. I have watched her process this human experience. Her life process, or life journey, has added to mine.
She is an amazing woman, and as I like to say, all of this might be true, but not because I said it.
It is true for me. It is my truth. Only you can decide what your truth is, just as you and only you, are responsible for your own healing. Linda has gently stretched my universal spectrum, knowing it takes time for eyes to adjust to brighter light. That is what I call holding space.
And while there have been many who have done this for me, including some of the participants and bright lights in this particular sweat lodge, Linda has embodied it for me longer than anyone.
Linda came to the lodge for healing, for growth, for clarity. When she gave me the offering, it dawned on me that I had just held space for her. It is a privilege, and an honor, that someone you trust, trusts you to hold that space for them, and that is, in my humble opinion, the greatest gift you can give. She was willing to receive, for if we don't receive, we take away someone else's gift of giving.
Sacred reciprocity. An exchange over time. I was able to give back and hold the space in the same way which she learned me. You give AND you receive. Create space to have space to create. We do this for each other. A prayer I like and recited in this particular lodge, is simply,
"may you see that which you need to see, and hear that which you need to hear."
I rub my feet in the soft grass, and lay back with my arms behind my head, and I see there is a caterpillar hanging from a branch and I am observing this caterpillar for about 20 minutes. I feel like I am communicating with it telepathically, and even if that's a stretch of reality, the metaphors that are appearing in my mind and into my awareness are very real, and are synthesizing several fragmented ideas in my head, while crystallizing and spawning some new ones as well. I'm inside the "what" of what one might call conscious awareness, and it's easy for me to let go of the "how" this is occurring. My heart is smiling, and trying to figure out why would simply take me out of the moment.
The caterpillar has made little tangible progress, and I can tell it's going to take it all day, if not longer to arrive at its destination. The purpose of the journey is the journey itself. I wonder if the caterpillar is enjoying its journey. Am I enjoying mine?
I am.
To be sure, there are days, or moments, that don't taste so fantastic. Like someone "peed in your bowl of cosmic chili". The real learning occurs when you realize you were the one doing the urinating, and you were following your own recipe. Or, perhaps, you receive a letter in the mail, and it is full of advice you don't want to hear, or feel doesn't apply to you, so you put it back in the mailbox "Return to Sender". A day later you find out that YOU are the sender.
This is how our higher self communicates lessons to us, how it nudges us along until we remember who we are. The gift of the human experience, and its duality is that by learning what doesn't feel, taste, or sound good to us, we then have a frame for what does. Like that peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich. The great news is we have the ability(free will) to change our life recipe, or how we perceive it.
The caterpillar I am watching is in the process of beginning its sojourn to form the chrysallis from which a beautiful butterfly will emerge. I realize how interconnected the caterpillar journey is with that of the butterflys. From there, how connected our human paths are to that of the caterpillar's long transformation. It clicks in how much the sum of all of my more dense caterpillar-like experiences(read: shitty ones(at the time)) are connected to those lighter ones I associate with that of a flying butterfly. My 5 year-old daughter is perfect, and in every way. She is my inspiration, and so helped learn unconditional love. In learning how to nurture her, I have learned to nurture myself. In learning how to nurture myself, how to nurture my ideas, my art, my voice.
It follows that every perfect Daddy day of present moments that I share with my daughter, is connected with every imperfect moment that came before it, or before her, good or bad. Suddenly, I see the inherent perfection in all prior imperfections.
Imperfection broken down = I'm perfection, or I am perfection.
I take a pinch of tobacco from my medicine bag, and offer it in gratitude to the caterpillar and the Earth for this time, and head back to the group to play some guitar around the campfire.
I know the night is going to be a joy, and full of kindred spirits and laughter, and I'm not worried about hitting the perfect note, or singing the perfect song, for I know now more than ever:
There is perfection in imperfection.
Aho,
Eric
Friday, August 21, 2009
Spandas of The Now
Spanda is a Sanskrit term that translates to vibration, or motion. Creative spark. Divine inspiration. http://www.spandayoga.com/whatis.html
It is no surprise to me that I was introduced to this term by my good friend, peer, and teacher, Bill "Gorakh" Hiyashi of Columbia College. Bill teaches course offerings such as Mystical Consciousness and Philosophy of Love at the school, and is the anchor of our monthly Light Circles meetings. Light Circles is a sacred space that is held every First Friday of every month. A community "we" space, that is a place of support and non-judgment for young artists to explore their felt sense. Bill also taught me the meaning of this term 'felt sense' as well, and I put together how it relates to the wisdom of our direct experiences, our connection with the divine.
A typical Light Circle meeting will include a 1/2 hour of casual meet and greet, a potluck feast, an invocation, 2-3 hours of artists sharing their SoulArt in the form of music, singing, paintings, spoken word, and a meditation. Oftentime, the spandas are flowing as the frequency of the field is high and full of love. Have you ever felt tickled even though no one has touched you? Have you ever started laughing though no one has told a joke or said anything? This happened to me at our last meeting. A moment where one person(me) starts laughing, then another joins in, then another, and then the laughter perpetuates itself. Soon the whole room is belly laughing and no one really knows why.
That is the kinesthetic sense, or feeling of a spanda.
Last year, one day, Bill and I were grabbing coffee, and just checking in with each other. Our conversation are such a joy, so fluid, like jumping into a river destination unknown and just seeing where the current takes you.
Before I met Bill, if someone asked me what we were going to talk about before I left for the cafe, I would have all sorts of a response, "Philosophy, Love, Metaphysics, why we're here on this planet, Spirituality, Religion, Service, blah blah blah". These days, I just suit up and show up, and trust that whatever is supposed to be the topic will emerge.
We're at the cafe. "What did you just say?", he tunes in. I think it was something about either Chiron, or Indigo children, if memory serves, but the subject matter is immaterial.
"Tell me more.....every now and then these brilliant spandas come through you", Bill says.
(crickets)
No idea what he's talking about. Yup, I have a 160 I.Q this day.....on a scale of 1000.
Bill continues, "It's an inspiration that comes out of nowhere, out of nothingness, something that really resonates, and strikes a chord." One might call it creation itself.
Got it. And instantly I get why our chats are so riveting. The intention to create the field, to hold the space, to be open and vulnerable to where the energy may take you, without attachment or agenda.
Ever cook a recipe that you followed to the 'T' and you just know is missing a certain something, and then it occurs to you spontaneously the exact ingredient that will synthesize all the rest into a delicious meal.
Spanda!
I realize this nothingness that we create together is what makes our conversations so wonderful. The place Buddhists call 'no mind', also, "beginner's mind".
I would call it "if you get rid of the how, you'll get into the now."
That just came through. How 'bout that? A spanda that describes a spanda.
When Bill and I get together, we 'hold space' for one another, create a "we" space, put on our "beginner's minds", and with a whole personal library of felt senses and direct experiences to tap into for context if needed.
Like 2 painters with a full box of paints and brushes(our experiences), who need only to find the clear screen(space) on which to allow creation(spanda).
I'm going to see Bill tomorrow at a purification lodge ceremony.
What will we talk about?
Oh, probably nothing(ness).
(smile)
Aho,
Eric
It is no surprise to me that I was introduced to this term by my good friend, peer, and teacher, Bill "Gorakh" Hiyashi of Columbia College. Bill teaches course offerings such as Mystical Consciousness and Philosophy of Love at the school, and is the anchor of our monthly Light Circles meetings. Light Circles is a sacred space that is held every First Friday of every month. A community "we" space, that is a place of support and non-judgment for young artists to explore their felt sense. Bill also taught me the meaning of this term 'felt sense' as well, and I put together how it relates to the wisdom of our direct experiences, our connection with the divine.
A typical Light Circle meeting will include a 1/2 hour of casual meet and greet, a potluck feast, an invocation, 2-3 hours of artists sharing their SoulArt in the form of music, singing, paintings, spoken word, and a meditation. Oftentime, the spandas are flowing as the frequency of the field is high and full of love. Have you ever felt tickled even though no one has touched you? Have you ever started laughing though no one has told a joke or said anything? This happened to me at our last meeting. A moment where one person(me) starts laughing, then another joins in, then another, and then the laughter perpetuates itself. Soon the whole room is belly laughing and no one really knows why.
That is the kinesthetic sense, or feeling of a spanda.
Last year, one day, Bill and I were grabbing coffee, and just checking in with each other. Our conversation are such a joy, so fluid, like jumping into a river destination unknown and just seeing where the current takes you.
Before I met Bill, if someone asked me what we were going to talk about before I left for the cafe, I would have all sorts of a response, "Philosophy, Love, Metaphysics, why we're here on this planet, Spirituality, Religion, Service, blah blah blah". These days, I just suit up and show up, and trust that whatever is supposed to be the topic will emerge.
We're at the cafe. "What did you just say?", he tunes in. I think it was something about either Chiron, or Indigo children, if memory serves, but the subject matter is immaterial.
"Tell me more.....every now and then these brilliant spandas come through you", Bill says.
(crickets)
No idea what he's talking about. Yup, I have a 160 I.Q this day.....on a scale of 1000.
Bill continues, "It's an inspiration that comes out of nowhere, out of nothingness, something that really resonates, and strikes a chord." One might call it creation itself.
Got it. And instantly I get why our chats are so riveting. The intention to create the field, to hold the space, to be open and vulnerable to where the energy may take you, without attachment or agenda.
Ever cook a recipe that you followed to the 'T' and you just know is missing a certain something, and then it occurs to you spontaneously the exact ingredient that will synthesize all the rest into a delicious meal.
Spanda!
I realize this nothingness that we create together is what makes our conversations so wonderful. The place Buddhists call 'no mind', also, "beginner's mind".
I would call it "if you get rid of the how, you'll get into the now."
That just came through. How 'bout that? A spanda that describes a spanda.
When Bill and I get together, we 'hold space' for one another, create a "we" space, put on our "beginner's minds", and with a whole personal library of felt senses and direct experiences to tap into for context if needed.
Like 2 painters with a full box of paints and brushes(our experiences), who need only to find the clear screen(space) on which to allow creation(spanda).
I'm going to see Bill tomorrow at a purification lodge ceremony.
What will we talk about?
Oh, probably nothing(ness).
(smile)
Aho,
Eric
Friday, August 14, 2009
Life's a Beach
I'm walking to the beach, and I'm spontaneously 'pulled' to the boardwalk, which is 30 feet away. It feels as if I am a puppet with someone invisible above me pulling the strings. I love when this happens, and my only job is to shut the mind down, and open the heart. Let go and let God, as they say. I'm reminded of that line in Bull Durham where Crash Davis(Kevin Costner) yells at Nuke Laloosh(Tim Robbins), "Don't think Meat, just pitch!".
Rain is falling lightly, and I am enjoying the freshness of the sprinkles on my neck. There are six people sitting where I'm intuiting that I'd like to sit and write, and before I can come up with a Plan B in my mind, they magically get up and walk the other way. I take my seat, and have to shield my notebook from the rain, which is blowing north to south toward the ocean. The wind drops the temperature into the 50s, and suddenly, it takes a bit more grace to be happy it is raining down.
I am in the center of the boardwalk. I am at MY center. I am in the place the Buddhists call 'the witness', watching life unfold. Due to the weather, the ocean is left to its own devices, save for two 16 year-olds in the water, arms around one another, and kissing in a way that is that 1st puppy love. They are oblivious to everything and completely in the moment. The feeling of time stopping, with nary a worry in the world, except for maybe the prospect of what to do with a 3-inch hickey on the back of one's neck. The memory of my first real kiss enters my awareness. The hometown ski area, 12 friends egging me on, and a chair lift ride with a girl named Karen. It's a 'sure thing', all I have to do is let it happen, and yet there's still the pubescent nervous anticipation. The metaphor for this stage of the chrysallis, or development, that is my writing, is quite loud.
The writing is in my home "field". It is everything I already am, and everything I already know, consciously or not. I have many, many people supporting me, and about 12 people actively taking an interest in my writing. I've seen and felt all the signs that tell me it is a "sure thing", and I don't intrepret that to mean New York Times bestseller. I simply know it is a "sure thing" in terms of my growth as a human being, my transformation as a person, and that possibly one other person will be inspired to write a book that will change the world forever. There is still a bit of trepidation.
All I have to do is get on the chair lift. Sit in stillness and be raised up in vibration.
The rhythymic melody of the ocean wave breaking onto shore brings me deeper into what one might call an awakened trance. I am sitting with my legs crossed, and my body is taking a nap as my mind is completely alert. I am in that oxymoronic space of thinking with my heart and feeling with my mind. A place where one can take an artistic view of science and a scientific viewpoint of all things art.
I see the auras of the trees over the rocky neck that extends into the ocean. They provide ample light on what otherwise would be considered by many to be a dark, dreary, overcast day.
I randomly think of spiders, and within 5 seconds, almost on queue, a woman 6 feet away asks her 3 yr-old son, "do you want to play with Spiderman?". I acknowledge with gratitude the new web of life that is my writing and make a mental note to research further what the Native American take on spider medicine(spider signs/wisdom) is.
For the first time of this vacation week, I turn my head to the big, circular clock that is perched on a pole at the end of the boardwalk. It is 1:11 pm. I giggle to myself. The Oneness. Everything really is one right now. I realize this week is the first time ever that I've truly written without my brutal inner editor. I'm not even really sure what I've written. I smile. It occurs to me right now I can write with my eyes not looking at the notebook, and even with my non-dominant hand. It's just coming through.
I can feel this moment in time, this awareness, this 'being', starting to fade. I decide to lock this moment, this essence, in for future reference, for those times when I am staring at the pen in my hand that seems separate from my brain. I close my eyes and imagine myself diving simultaneously into each individual cell in my body. I take 3 deep breaths, and tap my solar plexus 3 times. This is the 2nd chakra, or creative center. I am literally downloading this moment into cellular/muscle memory, through self-hypnosis. It has definitely made my short list of "happy places" that I can re-visit from a distance through meditation any time I feel stuck.
I ask for a sign to get up and go, 2 sea hawks fly across the previously empty sky, and I get chills up and down my arms. I realize how connected I am to the beach and the ocean and am immediately grateful. I realize how connected I am to everything, and laugh at myself for the fact that I almost didn't want to come and take this vacation break. I take a pinch of tobacco from my medicine bag, and say a prayer of gratitude in an offering to the beach.
Life's a beach.
Rain is falling lightly, and I am enjoying the freshness of the sprinkles on my neck. There are six people sitting where I'm intuiting that I'd like to sit and write, and before I can come up with a Plan B in my mind, they magically get up and walk the other way. I take my seat, and have to shield my notebook from the rain, which is blowing north to south toward the ocean. The wind drops the temperature into the 50s, and suddenly, it takes a bit more grace to be happy it is raining down.
I am in the center of the boardwalk. I am at MY center. I am in the place the Buddhists call 'the witness', watching life unfold. Due to the weather, the ocean is left to its own devices, save for two 16 year-olds in the water, arms around one another, and kissing in a way that is that 1st puppy love. They are oblivious to everything and completely in the moment. The feeling of time stopping, with nary a worry in the world, except for maybe the prospect of what to do with a 3-inch hickey on the back of one's neck. The memory of my first real kiss enters my awareness. The hometown ski area, 12 friends egging me on, and a chair lift ride with a girl named Karen. It's a 'sure thing', all I have to do is let it happen, and yet there's still the pubescent nervous anticipation. The metaphor for this stage of the chrysallis, or development, that is my writing, is quite loud.
The writing is in my home "field". It is everything I already am, and everything I already know, consciously or not. I have many, many people supporting me, and about 12 people actively taking an interest in my writing. I've seen and felt all the signs that tell me it is a "sure thing", and I don't intrepret that to mean New York Times bestseller. I simply know it is a "sure thing" in terms of my growth as a human being, my transformation as a person, and that possibly one other person will be inspired to write a book that will change the world forever. There is still a bit of trepidation.
All I have to do is get on the chair lift. Sit in stillness and be raised up in vibration.
The rhythymic melody of the ocean wave breaking onto shore brings me deeper into what one might call an awakened trance. I am sitting with my legs crossed, and my body is taking a nap as my mind is completely alert. I am in that oxymoronic space of thinking with my heart and feeling with my mind. A place where one can take an artistic view of science and a scientific viewpoint of all things art.
I see the auras of the trees over the rocky neck that extends into the ocean. They provide ample light on what otherwise would be considered by many to be a dark, dreary, overcast day.
I randomly think of spiders, and within 5 seconds, almost on queue, a woman 6 feet away asks her 3 yr-old son, "do you want to play with Spiderman?". I acknowledge with gratitude the new web of life that is my writing and make a mental note to research further what the Native American take on spider medicine(spider signs/wisdom) is.
For the first time of this vacation week, I turn my head to the big, circular clock that is perched on a pole at the end of the boardwalk. It is 1:11 pm. I giggle to myself. The Oneness. Everything really is one right now. I realize this week is the first time ever that I've truly written without my brutal inner editor. I'm not even really sure what I've written. I smile. It occurs to me right now I can write with my eyes not looking at the notebook, and even with my non-dominant hand. It's just coming through.
I can feel this moment in time, this awareness, this 'being', starting to fade. I decide to lock this moment, this essence, in for future reference, for those times when I am staring at the pen in my hand that seems separate from my brain. I close my eyes and imagine myself diving simultaneously into each individual cell in my body. I take 3 deep breaths, and tap my solar plexus 3 times. This is the 2nd chakra, or creative center. I am literally downloading this moment into cellular/muscle memory, through self-hypnosis. It has definitely made my short list of "happy places" that I can re-visit from a distance through meditation any time I feel stuck.
I ask for a sign to get up and go, 2 sea hawks fly across the previously empty sky, and I get chills up and down my arms. I realize how connected I am to the beach and the ocean and am immediately grateful. I realize how connected I am to everything, and laugh at myself for the fact that I almost didn't want to come and take this vacation break. I take a pinch of tobacco from my medicine bag, and say a prayer of gratitude in an offering to the beach.
Life's a beach.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Just for Today, I Will Write
It's a normal Saturday in Chicago a few months ago, and I am face down on a massage table receiving energy healing work/massage from a friend. Getting some form of bodywork done is a weekly ritual for me, and part of the answer to dealing with the problem of life stressors. I sometimes like to think of my body as the instrument, and Planet Earth the orchestra. How in tune my body "guitar" is, and how well I'm synched up with the "band" of life is a direct result of the choices I make on a day-to-day basis with my instrument.
Have you ever heard someone play a guitar that's out of tune? It evokes the same feeling in me as when that little 5th grade bitch Darcy ran her fingernails down the chalkboard just because she could.
On the flip side, has a symphonic performance, or a piece of art ever moved you to tears? Ever been captivated watching an athlete push the limits of what was previously thought physically possible? Moments where maybe you had little idea intellectually what was happening or how it was being done, but were fully aware of its connection to you. Almost like it was already a part of you, and your role was simply to remember.
My intention for this particular massage session was simply to get out of my mind, and to relax. To give my muscles a break, and to thank them for all they do every single day. My friend, Healer 'A', has the energy of a female warrior. Like a sword, it is strong and supple. Both focused and gentle. What is a healer? I will cover this more in depth in the near future, and as far as I'm concerned, in terms of "hands-on healing", we are ALL healers. Do you remember falling down as a child and getting a bump, scrape, or bruise? You run to your Mom, and she immediately puts her hands on the boo-boo, and tells you everything is going to be alright. Same concept. What did Mom do right there? She sent love through her hands to your wound, and felt you to be just as perfect as you are. That is a healing.
I enjoy working with Healer 'A', as our energies are similar in many ways, and complementary in most others that matter to me. Like 2 DJs from different classic rock-n-roll radio stations, the dial is tuned into a slightly different frequency, and we have some differing personal musical preferences, but we pretty much play most of the same tunes.
She lays a Tibetan Bowl on my back and then gongs it. The sound vibration ripples through my body. I am almost instantly entrained or brought in sync, and become one with this vibration. It is akin to when I used to bodysurf in the ocean. There is an undeniable moment when you become one with the wave, and for a brief couple of seconds, know what a fish feels like in water. Or when I played basketball, and got into "the zone". The place of no time where you could not miss a shot seemingly even if you tried to. You're not quite sure how you got there, how long it will last, or when it's over, how to get there again. But when you are "there", there is no mistaking that you are there.
This "zone" is our birthright.
My nervous system dials down a notch or 3, and I am fully in this present moment of bliss.
Healer 'A' interrupts my moment. "Eric, they're telling me that you need to write."
As a healer myself, one of the mantras I use quite often is 'May you see that which you need to see, and hear that which you need to hear'. Healer 'A' is tuning into this, and it is the punk teenager in me, the one who doesn't like to be told what to do, that is tuning out.
"Yeah, yeah....I know....who the fuck are "they" anyway?", I reply, knowing full well who "they" are. "They" go by many names. Guides, angels, totems, higher selves, Spirit, God, Allah, Jehovah, Rama, Sa Ta Na Ma, Consciousness. They are one and the same.
Healer 'A': "No, really, they're telling me everything's lined up. Publishers, agents, support people, etc."
Whatever. I thank the messenger, and half-heartedly receive the message. It's not the first time I've received this message, and as the universe would show me quickly, wouldn't be the last.
Two weeks later, I am at the Ronora Lodge and Retreat Center in Watervliet, Michigan, about 100 miles NE of Chicago. 300 acres of trees, trails, and a beautiful freshwater lake. It is a sacred land, owned by a family with Native American roots, and a great place to unplug from the societal machine and unwind. I come here to feel connected to nature and all things. Today is a special day. On this day, we are to pour a purification, or sweat lodge, and I am to receive my medicine bag. I have been apprenticing much of the past year, learning the sacred traditions, and indigenous wisdoms under an Native American Arapaho Elder named Grandfather Singing Man. Today I "graduate", and receive the blessing of the Arapaho to facilitate, and run/pour sweat lodges on my own. For those not familiar with the Inipi, or Purification Lodge, it is a sacred ceremony, in which water is poured over hot stones(called Grandfather Stones), and there is prayer, song, and healing. The Inipi represents the mother's womb, in which you go in to be re-born again. The lodge is built from tree saplings, and covered with tarps, and resembles an igloo structure.
I am not Native American by blood, and it is a great privilege and honor for me to be able to pray with, and be awakened to the ways of the Native and their ancestors, who have sacrificed much for Pachumama, or Mother Earth.
Grandfather Singing Man is in his 60s, and while the years have brought to him some physical challenges such as a bum knee, his age is belied by his joyful, exuberant nature, and his young-looking skin, no doubt the result of many sweats. He is a therapist by day, and has counseled many addicted and afflicted souls. He was given the name Singing Man not so much for his ability to hit and hold a note, or carry a tune. Rather, his elders foresaw that his life mission was to spread or "sing" the ancient wisdoms to those in need, and those not schooled in the ways of the indigenous tribes.
This is why we are here today.
"Grandfather will see you now.", another apprentice beckons to me. Before the ceremony begins, Grandfather is calling forth and gifting all of the apprentices for all the work we have put in to get to this point. I see one of the female apprentices come out of the lodge with some ornate Native American jewelry. I wonder, I am excited, naturally curious, and even a bit anxious.
Will it be a buffalo skull? Maybe a warrior necklace?
"Eric, you are a good man, I am honored to be your teacher, and I know it's not much, but I'd like to give you this pen." As he hands me the small, sleek, silver writing utensil, I reply, .........."umm, ok, thank you Grandfather".
I walk out of the lodge back to the shade of the oak trees. The depth of what just transpired hasn't sunk in yet. Sometimes I may look dumb, but I sure am stupid. A pen. My 60 yr-old Indian Grandfather just gifted me a pen? Did he get this on the gas station on the way here? I am shallow at this moment, and confusion reigns. My mind wanders to that moment in the John Cusack movie, Say Anything, where the girl breaks up with him and awkwardly says she wants him to have this pen.
Why on Earth would Singing Man give me a pen?
(crickets)
(birds chirping)
(fire blazing)
I close my eyes. One of my animal totem guides, the Condor, appears in my mind's eye. He intuits to me, "What do you do with a pen, jackass?"
1.....2.....3.....OH MY GOD! GRANDFATHER GAVE ME A FUCKING PEN! HOLY SHIT! YOU WRITE WITH A PEN! YOU WRITE!
Suddenly, I feel the significance of the moment, and run over and tell Grandfather the story about Healer 'A', and how I'm being pulled to write. Grandfather smiles and chuckles. It's like he knew, and he did. He may not have been able to put together consciously why getting his student Eric a pen was essential, but he was moved by Spirit to do so, and he trusted that vibe, that intuition.
Of ALL the things Grandfather could have gotten for me, he chose a pen. I sit by the fire and just keep saying, "Duuuude!" to myself. Really deep, yo. It's like Jeff Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High just found God. Message received.
Love you grandpa!
I get back to Chicago and go straight to Staples to buy notebooks, notepads, pens, pencils, dry eraser boards, skittles. You know, all the writing essentials. I get back home to my desk, and I feel inspired, but what the heck am I supposed to write about? I'm not really an expert on anything. Jack of all trades, master of none. Maybe.
Sports, business, entrepreneurship? Nah. All still parts of me, but they are a bigger part of the 'who i was' version. I need to create with passion, the kind of passion that fuels and makes any impossible dream possible, and makes any far-out vision tangible. Ok, what am I passionate about? My healing work. The healing arts. Yeah, that's it. I love the healing arts. I can write about my own healing. Maybe about the times I escaped to alcohol and drugs as I dealt with my own pain, my own wounds. I could name it, "I Never Really Liked Cocaine, Just the Smell of It".
Nah. Too narcississtic.
How 'bout the myth of Chiron, the Wounded Healer? Bingo. That's it. That resonates. Chiron was the King of the Centaurs. Basically, the Centaurs were ALL about the sex, drugs, and rock n roll. Hedonism to the nth degree. Chiron, however, was the renaissance Centaur, self-taught in music, art, healing arts, and life. A king was crowned. His wisdom propones that it is direct experiences that foster our connection with the Divine. His wisdom propones that "the gift is in the wound", which is the name of this blog. That the medicine is in the pain. I believe in that. What does that mean? Simply that life's challenges are here to learn us, to stretch us, to awaken us to a higher version of ourselves. Pain is transformative. Pain is a way of opening to grace. Pain is ok, suffering is not. There is no script for what is pain and what is suffering. It is a felt sense. Anyone who has ever worked out knows when the body is in pain due to fatigue from a lactic acid buildup, and that is part of the healthy process of breaking down the muscle to build it up again. Far different than having a torn muscle, and not listening to your body to slow down, and making things worse.
Jesus Christ, the healer standard of all time, before he would agree to administer a healing, used to ask the question, "what have you learned from your infirmity, or condition?" What medicine or wisdom have you received? what have you learned that you can share with others, before this pain is released?
The day is Thursday July 9th and it's time for the 3rd annual Reiki Convergence at Ronora Lodge. 75 people from different parts of the country and the world will come for 4 days of communing with nature, eating healthy food, great music, healing, a sweat lodge, breath seminars, ritual, ceremony, and love. Some might consider the weekend a break from reality. For me, it IS reality. The people who put on this glorious event are Bill and Linda, my spiritual parents. Linda is a dear friend, an amazing spirit, and shown me the meaning of unconditional love more than anyone other than my 5 yr-old daughter. She has held space for me to grow, to learn, to fall off the bicycle and get back on it, not putting a time stamp or condition on how long it would take for the butterfly in me to emerge, the one that she always saw from day one. I am one of the stewards for the convergence, and my role is multi-dimensional. I sit in on the planning meetings months prior to the event. I help load/unload the truck the day before everyone arrives. On Thursday, I'm going to open the conference musically, leading the group with the Rusted Root song, Back to the Earth. Friday, I facilitate and lead my first sweat lodge. Saturday, I participate in the healing sanctuary, and then drum at the Sacred Fire Ceremony. There are also individual healing sessions I hold during free time, and general support for Bill and Linda and all my brothers and sisters all weekend.
It is a privilege.
Ma (Linda) asks, "are your many roles too much? i want you to enjoy the weekend fully." I reply, "They are but one role. I've never felt more in touch with my soul contract of service, and thank you for checking in with me." I am in the "zone". Everything is flowing. Each day is a series of pleasant unfolding moments. Extraordinary things are happening every single hour it seems, so much so that they become ordinary. We proceed to have a sacred fire ceremony, where we walk over a bridge, announce our intention for the next year in front of all, and then throw a prayer bundle into the fire. These four days are true service, and I end up losing my wallet this weekend, a sign that's lost on me for a couple weeks.
My statement/prayer for the fire is, "I will write every day, in Spirit, with Spirit, and as Spirit." What doesn't register at the time is my statement could translate to, "I will write every day in love, with love, and as love."
I get back to Chicago and I write for a couple of weeks, off and on. Journal entry here, 2/3 of a song there. I'm writing, but it's not flowing like a river, and still feels forced, not organic. My inner critic most nights is really strong, often editing the words before they even hit the paper. On this one particular Wednesday, it seems particularly loud. I grab a drink. I choose Vodka/tonic, with a big splash of "shut the fuck up" for my mind. This is not a celebratory libation, it is one to escape. I will realize later that coming up with fancy phrases, or complex thoughts/ideas, while titilating for my ego, puts me on what i would call a 2-sided cul-de-sac, with seemingly no way out. The mind is a guidance system, a necessary component of the ship, and it's useful for 20 percent of our existence, but it is my heart that drives this vessel. The only way out is through. I have to write from the heart, not the mind. It occurs to me right then and there how much fear is involved in the mental slavery of perfectionism. It occurs to me how destination-oriented my thoughts are in regards to just about anything artistic I do. Figuring out what the book should be about is keeping me from writing the book. That is a conflict. Art is creation. Life is creation. Creation is not about an arrival, it's about the experience. A friend once told me the purpose of the journey IS the journey.
The 2 weeks following the Convergence are hell in a bucket for me, which ultimately, proves to be a gift, I just don't know it yet. Some letdown was to be expected. I just spent 5 days in complete peace and harmony with nature and supportive, loving people. Integrating back into the 'machine' of life is an adjustment requiring a bit of finesse. This wasn't that, however. Something is leaving me forever. Like a snake shedding a skin. I get a message through a meditation that I am about to be scarred again, and it is up to me how I choose to view it. I feel like 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag, and that is on my good days. My day job of trading is taking a good beating, and I lose the majority of my yearly gains in a very short time. Ouchie. This triggers the long-programmed response of do more, have more. My biological father, an honorable man who put 5 kids through college on a teacher's salary, grew up the son of a Depression-Era farmer. If you picture the brain as a hard drive, my father's software "programs" installed by his father, were those of "lack" and "fear of not having enough". It's not good or bad, it just is. These programs were passed down to my 'hard drive'. Basically, it works like this: You're 5 years old. Aunt Bertha is cooking tomato soup, she burns her finger and screams, "I fucking hate tomato soup". Guess what, she just downloaded that "software" into your hard drive and so you will hate tomato soup for the rest of your life. Until you become aware of that program, and re-write the software. Dr. Bruce Lipton has done some pretty awesome work regarding this concept. (www.brucelipton.com)
I feel fucked. And the worst part of it, is I did it to myself. You'd think I'd have the common decency to give myself the courtesy reacharound. Nope. The old wounds have been ripped wide open. I know from experience that when dark things bubble up, it's actually a huge blessing. These things are finally light enough to be acknowledged and released. Yet this wisdom doesn't soothe me one bit. "How am I going to pay for all these things? Ella's school? The old response mechanisms come in. I swear I'll work harder(which doesn't mean smarter, btw), I dust off the resume and even make a couple phone calls, I can start up a firm again, make the money, and then i'll..i'll...i'll......
Enough is enough.
There's a saying that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
I have enough. I AM enough.
It's like I mimed myself into a box, and threw away the key. Yet the box only exists in my mind.
I have enough. I am enough. All of have to do is change the software.
I realize the decoys that occur in trying to have everything figured out. Writing is supposed to be a joy, not an obligation. I feel like the mosquito who keeps bouncing itself on the closed glass window, when if it would stop, take a deep breath, and turn around, it would notice the door wide open to the outside. I'm sure someone way smarter than I has philosophized about how if we do not scratch our creative itches, if we repress our right-brained inclinations, they then will manifest in the form of drama in our lives. The shadow side of our creative being. There is a human need for expression, and we will do it one way or another. I am free to be and choose to create.
I am both pressing my foot on the gas pedal and the brakes at the same time. A foot in two worlds. This is how the infant in the womb must feel, just before being born into the world. This is how the first cells of the butterfly cells must feel while still in the chrysallis of the caterpillar.
It's time to let go. Just bringing that idea into my awareness, and attaching an emotion to it, makes it so. I meet with my energy therapist, and she mentions to me there is no shame in working in the material/finance worlds, and offering those gifts in service. I agree, and I also realize that line of thought is more of who I was. It served me for a long time. The emergent true self seen and felt at the Convergence in Ronora is who I am. Being in service and creating, and unconsciously giving others permission to do the same.
Upon reflection, I needed to re-balance my life equation. Healthy faith is not to be confused with blind faith. You walk into a casino, put your life savings on black at the roulette table and proclaim, "I have faith in God's will", is not faith, it's stupidity.
If I were a plant, the time had come for a healthy pruning, so I can expand even more full of life. Too much pruning results in self-mutilation.
I set a modest and appropriate goal for the rest of the year economically, decide to take a long overdue respite from the finance world in August so I can be with my writing, and commit to rooting down this newfound awareness. I have been given an enormous gift, again.
Bob Marley pops into my head, "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind(Redemption Song)". Just by diving inward into that which was paining me, I find my medicine. The synchronicities start occurring rapidly, signs that I am flowing with the river. My left and right brains, like a happy marriage, are communicating well back and forth, each shining light on the other, and letting no space come between them. The creative juices are flowing, and I write page after page, and song after song. Again, I am in the 'zone'.
A friend writes to me that she likes my blog. I do not have a blog at this point, and I haven't blogged in years. She was tuning into what you are reading right now. It has always existed, I'm learning how to stay out of its way, and let it come through. With apologies to the Matrix, Neo's starting to believe. Message received.
One of the several healing disciplines I have learned/been attuned to is that of Reiki. I remember the 5 principles, which all begin with "Just for today..." Just for today, I will not anger, Just for today I will not worry, Just for today I will be grateful, Just for today, I will do my work honestly, Just for today, I will be kind to every living thing.
The idea is that all we have is this moment. I can choose not to worry, just for today. And then it becomes not tomorrow, but the 'next today'. And then I will choose again. Writing for the next year, or writing a complete book seem like mountainous tasks.
Writing just for today? Sounds reasonable, I can do that.
Just for shiggles, I pull an angel card from my sweat lodge card deck. "Ok universe, how 'bout you just tell me in no uncertain terms what it is you will have me write about?"
No surprise. I pull the Lakota Yum card, also known as whirlwind. It is the card of love.
And so it is.
Just for today, I will write.
Aho,
Eric
Have you ever heard someone play a guitar that's out of tune? It evokes the same feeling in me as when that little 5th grade bitch Darcy ran her fingernails down the chalkboard just because she could.
On the flip side, has a symphonic performance, or a piece of art ever moved you to tears? Ever been captivated watching an athlete push the limits of what was previously thought physically possible? Moments where maybe you had little idea intellectually what was happening or how it was being done, but were fully aware of its connection to you. Almost like it was already a part of you, and your role was simply to remember.
My intention for this particular massage session was simply to get out of my mind, and to relax. To give my muscles a break, and to thank them for all they do every single day. My friend, Healer 'A', has the energy of a female warrior. Like a sword, it is strong and supple. Both focused and gentle. What is a healer? I will cover this more in depth in the near future, and as far as I'm concerned, in terms of "hands-on healing", we are ALL healers. Do you remember falling down as a child and getting a bump, scrape, or bruise? You run to your Mom, and she immediately puts her hands on the boo-boo, and tells you everything is going to be alright. Same concept. What did Mom do right there? She sent love through her hands to your wound, and felt you to be just as perfect as you are. That is a healing.
I enjoy working with Healer 'A', as our energies are similar in many ways, and complementary in most others that matter to me. Like 2 DJs from different classic rock-n-roll radio stations, the dial is tuned into a slightly different frequency, and we have some differing personal musical preferences, but we pretty much play most of the same tunes.
She lays a Tibetan Bowl on my back and then gongs it. The sound vibration ripples through my body. I am almost instantly entrained or brought in sync, and become one with this vibration. It is akin to when I used to bodysurf in the ocean. There is an undeniable moment when you become one with the wave, and for a brief couple of seconds, know what a fish feels like in water. Or when I played basketball, and got into "the zone". The place of no time where you could not miss a shot seemingly even if you tried to. You're not quite sure how you got there, how long it will last, or when it's over, how to get there again. But when you are "there", there is no mistaking that you are there.
This "zone" is our birthright.
My nervous system dials down a notch or 3, and I am fully in this present moment of bliss.
Healer 'A' interrupts my moment. "Eric, they're telling me that you need to write."
As a healer myself, one of the mantras I use quite often is 'May you see that which you need to see, and hear that which you need to hear'. Healer 'A' is tuning into this, and it is the punk teenager in me, the one who doesn't like to be told what to do, that is tuning out.
"Yeah, yeah....I know....who the fuck are "they" anyway?", I reply, knowing full well who "they" are. "They" go by many names. Guides, angels, totems, higher selves, Spirit, God, Allah, Jehovah, Rama, Sa Ta Na Ma, Consciousness. They are one and the same.
Healer 'A': "No, really, they're telling me everything's lined up. Publishers, agents, support people, etc."
Whatever. I thank the messenger, and half-heartedly receive the message. It's not the first time I've received this message, and as the universe would show me quickly, wouldn't be the last.
Two weeks later, I am at the Ronora Lodge and Retreat Center in Watervliet, Michigan, about 100 miles NE of Chicago. 300 acres of trees, trails, and a beautiful freshwater lake. It is a sacred land, owned by a family with Native American roots, and a great place to unplug from the societal machine and unwind. I come here to feel connected to nature and all things. Today is a special day. On this day, we are to pour a purification, or sweat lodge, and I am to receive my medicine bag. I have been apprenticing much of the past year, learning the sacred traditions, and indigenous wisdoms under an Native American Arapaho Elder named Grandfather Singing Man. Today I "graduate", and receive the blessing of the Arapaho to facilitate, and run/pour sweat lodges on my own. For those not familiar with the Inipi, or Purification Lodge, it is a sacred ceremony, in which water is poured over hot stones(called Grandfather Stones), and there is prayer, song, and healing. The Inipi represents the mother's womb, in which you go in to be re-born again. The lodge is built from tree saplings, and covered with tarps, and resembles an igloo structure.
I am not Native American by blood, and it is a great privilege and honor for me to be able to pray with, and be awakened to the ways of the Native and their ancestors, who have sacrificed much for Pachumama, or Mother Earth.
Grandfather Singing Man is in his 60s, and while the years have brought to him some physical challenges such as a bum knee, his age is belied by his joyful, exuberant nature, and his young-looking skin, no doubt the result of many sweats. He is a therapist by day, and has counseled many addicted and afflicted souls. He was given the name Singing Man not so much for his ability to hit and hold a note, or carry a tune. Rather, his elders foresaw that his life mission was to spread or "sing" the ancient wisdoms to those in need, and those not schooled in the ways of the indigenous tribes.
This is why we are here today.
"Grandfather will see you now.", another apprentice beckons to me. Before the ceremony begins, Grandfather is calling forth and gifting all of the apprentices for all the work we have put in to get to this point. I see one of the female apprentices come out of the lodge with some ornate Native American jewelry. I wonder, I am excited, naturally curious, and even a bit anxious.
Will it be a buffalo skull? Maybe a warrior necklace?
"Eric, you are a good man, I am honored to be your teacher, and I know it's not much, but I'd like to give you this pen." As he hands me the small, sleek, silver writing utensil, I reply, .........."umm, ok, thank you Grandfather".
I walk out of the lodge back to the shade of the oak trees. The depth of what just transpired hasn't sunk in yet. Sometimes I may look dumb, but I sure am stupid. A pen. My 60 yr-old Indian Grandfather just gifted me a pen? Did he get this on the gas station on the way here? I am shallow at this moment, and confusion reigns. My mind wanders to that moment in the John Cusack movie, Say Anything, where the girl breaks up with him and awkwardly says she wants him to have this pen.
Why on Earth would Singing Man give me a pen?
(crickets)
(birds chirping)
(fire blazing)
I close my eyes. One of my animal totem guides, the Condor, appears in my mind's eye. He intuits to me, "What do you do with a pen, jackass?"
1.....2.....3.....OH MY GOD! GRANDFATHER GAVE ME A FUCKING PEN! HOLY SHIT! YOU WRITE WITH A PEN! YOU WRITE!
Suddenly, I feel the significance of the moment, and run over and tell Grandfather the story about Healer 'A', and how I'm being pulled to write. Grandfather smiles and chuckles. It's like he knew, and he did. He may not have been able to put together consciously why getting his student Eric a pen was essential, but he was moved by Spirit to do so, and he trusted that vibe, that intuition.
Of ALL the things Grandfather could have gotten for me, he chose a pen. I sit by the fire and just keep saying, "Duuuude!" to myself. Really deep, yo. It's like Jeff Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High just found God. Message received.
Love you grandpa!
I get back to Chicago and go straight to Staples to buy notebooks, notepads, pens, pencils, dry eraser boards, skittles. You know, all the writing essentials. I get back home to my desk, and I feel inspired, but what the heck am I supposed to write about? I'm not really an expert on anything. Jack of all trades, master of none. Maybe.
Sports, business, entrepreneurship? Nah. All still parts of me, but they are a bigger part of the 'who i was' version. I need to create with passion, the kind of passion that fuels and makes any impossible dream possible, and makes any far-out vision tangible. Ok, what am I passionate about? My healing work. The healing arts. Yeah, that's it. I love the healing arts. I can write about my own healing. Maybe about the times I escaped to alcohol and drugs as I dealt with my own pain, my own wounds. I could name it, "I Never Really Liked Cocaine, Just the Smell of It".
Nah. Too narcississtic.
How 'bout the myth of Chiron, the Wounded Healer? Bingo. That's it. That resonates. Chiron was the King of the Centaurs. Basically, the Centaurs were ALL about the sex, drugs, and rock n roll. Hedonism to the nth degree. Chiron, however, was the renaissance Centaur, self-taught in music, art, healing arts, and life. A king was crowned. His wisdom propones that it is direct experiences that foster our connection with the Divine. His wisdom propones that "the gift is in the wound", which is the name of this blog. That the medicine is in the pain. I believe in that. What does that mean? Simply that life's challenges are here to learn us, to stretch us, to awaken us to a higher version of ourselves. Pain is transformative. Pain is a way of opening to grace. Pain is ok, suffering is not. There is no script for what is pain and what is suffering. It is a felt sense. Anyone who has ever worked out knows when the body is in pain due to fatigue from a lactic acid buildup, and that is part of the healthy process of breaking down the muscle to build it up again. Far different than having a torn muscle, and not listening to your body to slow down, and making things worse.
Jesus Christ, the healer standard of all time, before he would agree to administer a healing, used to ask the question, "what have you learned from your infirmity, or condition?" What medicine or wisdom have you received? what have you learned that you can share with others, before this pain is released?
The day is Thursday July 9th and it's time for the 3rd annual Reiki Convergence at Ronora Lodge. 75 people from different parts of the country and the world will come for 4 days of communing with nature, eating healthy food, great music, healing, a sweat lodge, breath seminars, ritual, ceremony, and love. Some might consider the weekend a break from reality. For me, it IS reality. The people who put on this glorious event are Bill and Linda, my spiritual parents. Linda is a dear friend, an amazing spirit, and shown me the meaning of unconditional love more than anyone other than my 5 yr-old daughter. She has held space for me to grow, to learn, to fall off the bicycle and get back on it, not putting a time stamp or condition on how long it would take for the butterfly in me to emerge, the one that she always saw from day one. I am one of the stewards for the convergence, and my role is multi-dimensional. I sit in on the planning meetings months prior to the event. I help load/unload the truck the day before everyone arrives. On Thursday, I'm going to open the conference musically, leading the group with the Rusted Root song, Back to the Earth. Friday, I facilitate and lead my first sweat lodge. Saturday, I participate in the healing sanctuary, and then drum at the Sacred Fire Ceremony. There are also individual healing sessions I hold during free time, and general support for Bill and Linda and all my brothers and sisters all weekend.
It is a privilege.
Ma (Linda) asks, "are your many roles too much? i want you to enjoy the weekend fully." I reply, "They are but one role. I've never felt more in touch with my soul contract of service, and thank you for checking in with me." I am in the "zone". Everything is flowing. Each day is a series of pleasant unfolding moments. Extraordinary things are happening every single hour it seems, so much so that they become ordinary. We proceed to have a sacred fire ceremony, where we walk over a bridge, announce our intention for the next year in front of all, and then throw a prayer bundle into the fire. These four days are true service, and I end up losing my wallet this weekend, a sign that's lost on me for a couple weeks.
My statement/prayer for the fire is, "I will write every day, in Spirit, with Spirit, and as Spirit." What doesn't register at the time is my statement could translate to, "I will write every day in love, with love, and as love."
I get back to Chicago and I write for a couple of weeks, off and on. Journal entry here, 2/3 of a song there. I'm writing, but it's not flowing like a river, and still feels forced, not organic. My inner critic most nights is really strong, often editing the words before they even hit the paper. On this one particular Wednesday, it seems particularly loud. I grab a drink. I choose Vodka/tonic, with a big splash of "shut the fuck up" for my mind. This is not a celebratory libation, it is one to escape. I will realize later that coming up with fancy phrases, or complex thoughts/ideas, while titilating for my ego, puts me on what i would call a 2-sided cul-de-sac, with seemingly no way out. The mind is a guidance system, a necessary component of the ship, and it's useful for 20 percent of our existence, but it is my heart that drives this vessel. The only way out is through. I have to write from the heart, not the mind. It occurs to me right then and there how much fear is involved in the mental slavery of perfectionism. It occurs to me how destination-oriented my thoughts are in regards to just about anything artistic I do. Figuring out what the book should be about is keeping me from writing the book. That is a conflict. Art is creation. Life is creation. Creation is not about an arrival, it's about the experience. A friend once told me the purpose of the journey IS the journey.
The 2 weeks following the Convergence are hell in a bucket for me, which ultimately, proves to be a gift, I just don't know it yet. Some letdown was to be expected. I just spent 5 days in complete peace and harmony with nature and supportive, loving people. Integrating back into the 'machine' of life is an adjustment requiring a bit of finesse. This wasn't that, however. Something is leaving me forever. Like a snake shedding a skin. I get a message through a meditation that I am about to be scarred again, and it is up to me how I choose to view it. I feel like 10 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag, and that is on my good days. My day job of trading is taking a good beating, and I lose the majority of my yearly gains in a very short time. Ouchie. This triggers the long-programmed response of do more, have more. My biological father, an honorable man who put 5 kids through college on a teacher's salary, grew up the son of a Depression-Era farmer. If you picture the brain as a hard drive, my father's software "programs" installed by his father, were those of "lack" and "fear of not having enough". It's not good or bad, it just is. These programs were passed down to my 'hard drive'. Basically, it works like this: You're 5 years old. Aunt Bertha is cooking tomato soup, she burns her finger and screams, "I fucking hate tomato soup". Guess what, she just downloaded that "software" into your hard drive and so you will hate tomato soup for the rest of your life. Until you become aware of that program, and re-write the software. Dr. Bruce Lipton has done some pretty awesome work regarding this concept. (www.brucelipton.com)
I feel fucked. And the worst part of it, is I did it to myself. You'd think I'd have the common decency to give myself the courtesy reacharound. Nope. The old wounds have been ripped wide open. I know from experience that when dark things bubble up, it's actually a huge blessing. These things are finally light enough to be acknowledged and released. Yet this wisdom doesn't soothe me one bit. "How am I going to pay for all these things? Ella's school? The old response mechanisms come in. I swear I'll work harder(which doesn't mean smarter, btw), I dust off the resume and even make a couple phone calls, I can start up a firm again, make the money, and then i'll..i'll...i'll......
Enough is enough.
There's a saying that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.
I have enough. I AM enough.
It's like I mimed myself into a box, and threw away the key. Yet the box only exists in my mind.
I have enough. I am enough. All of have to do is change the software.
I realize the decoys that occur in trying to have everything figured out. Writing is supposed to be a joy, not an obligation. I feel like the mosquito who keeps bouncing itself on the closed glass window, when if it would stop, take a deep breath, and turn around, it would notice the door wide open to the outside. I'm sure someone way smarter than I has philosophized about how if we do not scratch our creative itches, if we repress our right-brained inclinations, they then will manifest in the form of drama in our lives. The shadow side of our creative being. There is a human need for expression, and we will do it one way or another. I am free to be and choose to create.
I am both pressing my foot on the gas pedal and the brakes at the same time. A foot in two worlds. This is how the infant in the womb must feel, just before being born into the world. This is how the first cells of the butterfly cells must feel while still in the chrysallis of the caterpillar.
It's time to let go. Just bringing that idea into my awareness, and attaching an emotion to it, makes it so. I meet with my energy therapist, and she mentions to me there is no shame in working in the material/finance worlds, and offering those gifts in service. I agree, and I also realize that line of thought is more of who I was. It served me for a long time. The emergent true self seen and felt at the Convergence in Ronora is who I am. Being in service and creating, and unconsciously giving others permission to do the same.
Upon reflection, I needed to re-balance my life equation. Healthy faith is not to be confused with blind faith. You walk into a casino, put your life savings on black at the roulette table and proclaim, "I have faith in God's will", is not faith, it's stupidity.
If I were a plant, the time had come for a healthy pruning, so I can expand even more full of life. Too much pruning results in self-mutilation.
I set a modest and appropriate goal for the rest of the year economically, decide to take a long overdue respite from the finance world in August so I can be with my writing, and commit to rooting down this newfound awareness. I have been given an enormous gift, again.
Bob Marley pops into my head, "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our mind(Redemption Song)". Just by diving inward into that which was paining me, I find my medicine. The synchronicities start occurring rapidly, signs that I am flowing with the river. My left and right brains, like a happy marriage, are communicating well back and forth, each shining light on the other, and letting no space come between them. The creative juices are flowing, and I write page after page, and song after song. Again, I am in the 'zone'.
A friend writes to me that she likes my blog. I do not have a blog at this point, and I haven't blogged in years. She was tuning into what you are reading right now. It has always existed, I'm learning how to stay out of its way, and let it come through. With apologies to the Matrix, Neo's starting to believe. Message received.
One of the several healing disciplines I have learned/been attuned to is that of Reiki. I remember the 5 principles, which all begin with "Just for today..." Just for today, I will not anger, Just for today I will not worry, Just for today I will be grateful, Just for today, I will do my work honestly, Just for today, I will be kind to every living thing.
The idea is that all we have is this moment. I can choose not to worry, just for today. And then it becomes not tomorrow, but the 'next today'. And then I will choose again. Writing for the next year, or writing a complete book seem like mountainous tasks.
Writing just for today? Sounds reasonable, I can do that.
Just for shiggles, I pull an angel card from my sweat lodge card deck. "Ok universe, how 'bout you just tell me in no uncertain terms what it is you will have me write about?"
No surprise. I pull the Lakota Yum card, also known as whirlwind. It is the card of love.
And so it is.
Just for today, I will write.
Aho,
Eric
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