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