lesson learned

In my dreams, in imprints of outlines in the dark of night, I see faces, jackals, things that cause me fear and torment.  On a recent journey into the depths of my psyche, I saw this Jackal looming in the background of a forest floor, treading stealthily in the background of the faded light cast by the tall trees.  A mask, an animal, a man?  As the question loomed, this apparition started running towards me, a terror that I wanted to run away from, but upon guidance from a dear friend as well as a considerable lack of sleep, I became fierce and emboldened and stood my ground.  I said that I was not running away, that I was not afraid.  As forces of nature abided, my toes started to thread deep within the soil and within moments the circumference of my legs melded and with arms raised, I started to feel the rise to the height of trees.  This fear, turned into a glow within the center of my being and I looked down upon this jackal and felt for the first time at a point where I could talk without wanting to run and hide.  I asked it whether it was there to harm me or help me, and in its voice, it projected that its intent was to serve as a reminder for me.  It reflected every sadness and every great joy, it reflected in essence all that I had chosen for myself and indeed all that I had yet to choose.  I realized that at that moment that I had and always have the choice of life or death- of love or fear - of opposition or harmony at each moment.

The Jackal, as it turned to be was me, was everyone i've encountered,  everyone i've ever loved, of everyone who I have yet to love.  The Jackal was a reflection of me and now it is a tree.

Coming Home

The other day, after meeting with an advisor of the spiritual nature, I came home, mind anxious, poised for change.  It all started out so innocently, a box moved here, a shirt folded there, then suddenly, I am ripping out cords from the back of my stereo, throwing out old papers and momentoes, and dragging furniture with the attentiveness of a dog trying to rip the siding off of a couch.

A spirit moved me, and it was my own.  

It is funny how things change when you take things out of the equation and equally when you put them in.  For a long time, I literally took myself out of the equation of life, living through others by living their lives, attaining their dreams, and attending to their needs.  I lived like a floating spirit desperately trying to find home but knocking at the wrong door, trying keys into locks that did not fit, seeking sustainance from things that could not possibly feed me. 

 With those things, those people gone from my life, it made me re-evaluate this hollow box that moaned from the wind lashing through it, lonely, desolate, empty.  A year of living in a fourth floor tower where I looked out at life passing by during the day and lay crying on a futon every night led to a change in the equation and a shift in thinking: Why live like this?

The day I moved away from the studio that signified the ending of a very dear relationship, marked the removal of a space in the equation and put into its place a variable.  This variable has been the formation of a life that is serving me because it is filled with the colors, sights and smells that I once never knew how to decipher until recently.  Whereas before, it was a single meal served over and over again, I landed at the buffet of life and am relishing the bounty that is choice.  The realization that for my whole life I have been shackled to the expectations and beliefs of others  led way to let me try to find my own way, my own beliefs.

So, with all of this, the major demolition in my space. The equation and its parts.  The cords and wires torn off were to a tower of electronics wire together by a person who I loved, still love, but do not love in the same way anymore.  This column of wires connecting different components together were not connecting me to understanding how they all worked together, and again, it represented something that was not my own creation and did not represent something that was serving me; -it was a disconnect in the truest sense;- just an effigy to what someone else thought would be good for me.  With all appreciation towards the person, the effort, and the product, I said a little goodbye prayer and took it from my room, put it in a pile near the outside door, waiting for it to be put out for someone else to decide to utilize. With a couple of hours and many shifts of furniture and feeling the deliciousness of new space, I sat, witnessing a most apparent transformation.

One of the most powerful aspects of my visit to this spiritual advisor was when in a meditative state, she rang a bell- clear and sweet,- inviting.  I started to cry without reason, -uncontrollably.  She asked me why I was crying and I told her that I felt like I felt I needed to go home, wherever that was. Later in our talk afterwards she related to me that the ringing of the bell was part of a ritual to call the spirits to the person the bell was being rung for.  My spirit was coming home, and this time it was met by the owner of its home. Me.

There and Back Again

We are all little Buddhas.  In a forest, I saw a small figurine of the little guy smiling serenely at me as I was in a jumble of trying to do something and thinking about where I had to get next and it was a kind reminder to be present,- although a little spooky since I was walking Smoosh, my surrogate pupster, for my yoga teacher.

I have been thinking about this moment ever since because the week leading up to this walk was spent mostly away in DC with an old and dear friend whom I've know since the fifth grade.  The visit was too short but definately filled with lots of sensations and feelings.  In the not so distant past, I used to hold the measuring stick up to the deficiencies of my life in comparison with my friends around me.  Sadly, and most honestly, measurements of: whether I weighed more or less, had the job that made enough money, had a dog, had a kid, had a house, had a husband where always definitions of who I was and it blinded me to the fact that I had not even figured essential facts our about myself.  I had not realized what it was I had until I  left all of that thinking to return to asking what made me happy, -and the happiness was just letting myself be where I was.  

On this visit, these feeling started to crop up again and instead of berating myself in my usual fashion, I took the quiet nights to look into the mirror for a long time and ask myself what was the matter with being who I was and where I was in my life.  In reflecting on the day I remembered part of a conversation that I had with Lady A ( my friend whom I was visiting) and was struck by the observation that she made about being unable to feel like she could totally let go of the disciplinarian role with her kids while I was able to goof off and be a nut with them.  This comment made me realize that we all have a role to play in this world, in friendships, relationships and families and that while for the present I may not have my own family,  being a conduit between the worlds of parenthood and childhood made me appreciate being Auntie ShaSha and mommy and or daddy's cool grown up friend.  

Being away reminded me of how much I love the freedom of being in a city like Boston where getting lost can be the perfect destination for finding new and unexpected things.  The time away made me appreciate the many freedoms that I take for granted  and watching such a loving and united couple made me appreciate that even in the most perfect situations, there is hard work, planning, giving, taking, arguments, and a lot of commitment involved and that it is not always like the movies but it is so worth all of the ups and downs.  

It is so wonderful and special to be able to parallel the time away to the time back with Lady A because despite having to travel on ocassion for her job, which leaves behind the frantic pace of juggling kids and work and multiple schedules, she always returns home missing this environment that she has created- missing the world that she hold true to every day.  Likewise, I missed the world I have created- each brick of time that is filled with walking a friend's dog, playing with my niece, doing yoga, assisting yogis, and teaching and serving food.  All of this makes up fibers and textures and patterns in the quilt that is the life I have now.  The measurements are old.  Where am I now?  Who am I right now?  Am I happy?  Am I doing things that bring me joy?  What do I do that does not bring me joy?  Why would I want to be unhappy?

  The greatest gift I realize now is always appreciating who I am, not who I think that I should be.  Like Buddha, it took going away to realize that I have everything that I desire already and that the greatest gift for myself are the choices that I make to empty what is full and to fill what is empty.

A Wrinkle in Time

Memories, like wrinkles, leave their indelible mark tracking the progression of the passing of time.  Coordinates tracking the sturm and drang of life's trajectory as we progress from the sponge-like nature of youth to the partitioned walls of adulthood leading into the circling nature of re-living and remeniscing over days past, of choices made, tasting the bitter sweetness of loss and re-constructing the remnants of what was, to mesh with the reality of what is now.  How truly strange life is.

In the past couple of months my family has been faced with the inevitable change of relocating my widowed mother to a place that would not strain her capacity to live the remainder of her life with quality and ease.   

As the progression from talk to reality, -from cleaning to packing her belongings evolved, I was faced with emotions that had been eluding me for a while.  In essence, it was almost like I was a princess from a fairy tale awakening from a hazy elusive death (of emotions-in order to gird my armor and remain strong for those around me).  The reality is that I was woken up by the simple smell of moth balls, the taste of my mom's kimchee, the replaying of songs while I was listening and delving into my itunes library , the witnessing of the deconstruction of my mother's belonging and the unveiling of photos as I was cleaning out a drawer in her house.

As a yogi I tried to follow the rule of non-attachment and in this house cleaning, it was easy to let go of many things, -try 3 dumpsters plus of stuff.  But, as the house became more empty, each part thrown away began to represent the loss of cells connected in layers and patterns that made the muscles and bones of the life and lives that were lived there, cohesive -whole.  I never in the past couple of months felt a sense of loss in terms of the house, but seeing walls, like bleached buffalo bones, outlining the framework where many a memory had been lain, made me feel the ache that I get in my heart when remembering a touch, smell or feeling.  As I was cleaning out my mom's crazy filing drawer filled with important papers, a surprising amount of gum, along with paperclips and old cards and wrappers from a decade ago, I came across photographs from life moments past.  Still-frames of weddings, a childhood birthday, the celebration of two grandchildren, -I started to feel the mist forming over my corneas and the tightness in my throat that is starting to rise even as I type this post; and for the first time since the inception of the move, I began to cry.

It wasn't the wracking, inconsolable crying and hiccuping of a child who couldn't catch her breath, it was the kind of crying where everything seems to melt slowly, -from the steady stream of tears coursing down my cheeks to the trickle of the ice around my heart melting into a pool of breathtaking sadness-beauty and beast conjoined.  -A Meryl Streep moment from The Bridges of Madison County.  

There were many photos captured of Dorothy Hamill-esque bowl cuts and snippets of gaunt, awkward faces set with somber eyes from our abused childhoods but what stood out more profoundly were the moments of sheer joy, like that of my sister running at top 5 or 6 year old speed in the unbridled nature of a puppy finding the springs in its legs.  Breath-taking joy in tear-dropped eyes and moon face.  The other photo was that of my father, taken in the months before his passing, holding my newly born niece, who I hold dear to my heart, in his arms.  Despite his withered countenance from struggling with Cancer, he had a look of contentment that I had seen very few times and it was captured as he looked upon this very small looking bundle of newness that looked up at him with a pensive furrow in her brow that for-shadowed the thoughtful and sensitive wonder I know today.

The passing of a human,  the loss of a relationship and connection, brings and has brought about so many changes in the lives of one family in such a little time.  I worry constantly in trusting my own ability to keep all of these memories with me and within me, and yet today I felt assured that no matter how much we change, there is a part that remains the same to remember all the tears and all of the laughter.  There is a steadily toiled upon groove, worked in concentric circles around the heart that holds the millions of miles and memories locked within the wrinkle of each of our times here on earth.  Chipchadisaeo ( goodbye home), Anyounghasaeo (greetings-and  in this case, greetings to the memories).

Step One: Just Do It

Ok, I know that I am totally partaking of the slogan from one 'swoosh' identifiable label but of late, this has been the mantra of my daily life.  This blog, or at least the thought of starting this blog, has been a long time coming and despite all of the 'no's' and hemming and hawing, I find myself captivated by the possibility of just taking the running leap of sharing with everyone and no one,- the inner musings of this one brain and this one heart. Welcome.

The past couple of years has been about moving beyond the creature comforts of what was once considered creature comforts, and for myself it has been about being born again: relearning how to think for myself, figuring out things for myself and loving others, myself and life on my own terms.

A wise yoga teacher of mine recently said that I could either wait around and obsess and study or I could just jump right in and  'Just Do It'.  The 'it' factor being to take the plunge into assisting yoga practitioners in the yoga studio I attend.  The counterpart of this wise yogi, also another wise yogi, was working  with me and allayed my fears of succeeding by simply say, 'Sharon, shine brightly'.  So often, we all at one time or another, cast a tall shadow with our fears and doubts never letting all that is possible happen by just living into the given moment.  I will say, that the jump was over a wide chasm of fear and loathing, but honestly, this side rocks pretty freaking hard and I am loving not only the success of achieving a goal,  but also the challenge of being true to myself and pressing onward and free falling into all of the possibility with trust in myself.

A good friend of mine served as an inspiration to start this blog.  Despite his own fears of outting himself in front of the cast of thousands, or even most possibly, just one, himself, in the public domain, he followed the mantra to 'Just Do It' and has blossomed in the face of his own creation of words from his own mind.  So, D, to you sir, I tip my hat and give thanks.  To finish this maiden post, a link to a song that I have been playing over and over and feeling in my heart. Thanks for reading.  Much love and peace to all.....

www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lFXy5bIiSA