While staying at a friend & teacher in Goa, mainly working on the computer and hardly leaving her house, she would sometime take me to what she called a “hospital tour” and I would call a “picnic in the hospital, day out of the house!”.
This picture was taken in one of the hospitals from the tour, a hospital that had marble floors . For me westerner, marble flooring is a sign of wealth (I know from my job as a content writer for tourism website that some of the most famous churches are layered with precious marble), but apparently here in india marble is quite abundant and way cheaper then in the west (weird to say “west” as I’m a middle eastern, but here it is considered west as my bringing up, mind and opinions are rather western).
As I’m slowly seeing the world in the light, living now in the shiny world of colors, I don’t always wish to linger down the wells of sorrow. I feel that I was spending way too long down there.
But lately something slimy from deep deep under is slowly slowly sliding up. It also wants to set foot out of the shadowlands and into the light. Maybe it feels that if I finally found a piece of joy, so this poor miserable prisoner of the prison of myselfs is worthy of some joy too. “I have a right to exist”. Continue reading “Wellspring of Life & Sorrow”
Two years ago I parted from the River up north, upon which I lived, the River at whom I had mushrooms for the first time, the River at which I found and lost love, the River by whom I started and stopped studying at the intellectual-centered academy. So I parted away and set off to learn from a male-teacher.
Akash, the teacher and friend with whom I’m “spending” the past few weeks with have been feeling very tired lately. Recovering from a stroke, she is making her way through learning how to walk and to stand out of a half- body paralysis. In the past few days whenever I would be at her company up in her room, I would feel so tired. It took me more then a week to realise that the tiredness that I’m experiencing around her might be connected to her own exhaustion.
( or: working with little I’s
or: Accepting vs. Questioning Reality )
Today I realised that living life in a way that is healthy both for the mind and the emotions, is finding the sweet balance between accepting reality the way it is, and allowing myself to question reality and strive to change what needs to be amended.
This understanding came in a mundane down to life way: a leaking shower head.
Yesterday during alignment Ringo cracked my jaw to the right. The experience was so scary and I was very shaken, frightened and unstable, and the jaw was hurting.
I know quite well how the subtle energy in my head usually feels like, from the morning meditation explorations and from all the (unfortunately- for many years- daily) migraines. Right after the alignment I was not really able to stand or communicate so I went and lay down on the grass. I was very much so in my body and felt the subtle energy running inside my scull, but on my right side of it, it was moving in different patterns then before. I can not quite put a finger on it and explain exactly what was different, it was just an unusual sensation that stayed. As if the energy is now using new (or very old forgotten?) pathways.
As a new personality is slowly building up inside me, I realise that by partaking the spine & stomach treatment I had dropped behind in my immediate reality so many aspects that bound me to my old self: my family, my friends, my homeland, my possessions, even my mother tongue. I realise that by doing so, by staying away from parts of the old self, I can allow for a new one to emerge. Either physically- by getting new cloths, new body to walk and talk in, new look and shedding old hair. And also emotionally and psychologically. I feel as if it’s the first time since a long forgotten time that I know experientially what it REALLY is to smile.
For years I’ve been avoiding smiling because it had never felt sincere. It felt fake. It felt fake, because it was fake for me back then- I didn’t feel any joy or any happy feeling behind this stretching of the lips. Now, as more space opens up inside me for joy, as I laugh deep from the bottom of the belly, I can feel the smile, feel happiness behind the smile. As if up until now, even in the rare moment that it came, the smile was only a mechanic motion. And now there is something behind it- a feeling of joy or of fun, of gratitude or merely of welcoming and merrily gesturing hello. Or in a 4th way dialect- the emotional centre is partaking in a gesture that up until now only the automatic moving centre possessed.
“The shortest distance between two points is a straight line”. When I was a teenaged high school student, I took this claim for granted. Today, I’m at a serious doubt concerning such dogmatic declarations. Our paths in life are not lines drawn on a two dimensional map from geometry lessons, and anyways the map is just a concept, not the actual soil. As the rays of light, so for us human beings, the shortest route is affected not only by the wavelength but also by the refractive index of our soul.
The most substantial permission that I can gift myself is the permission to change my mind. Change my habitual patterns, change my everyday automatic scripts, change my personality, or shake myselves from the commitment to only one set of allowed personality traits. Or at least mind them. Mind the gap. Cross it. And then change my mind.
Going through quite intimate stomach treatment, I find not only little selves abiding in various parts of my gut, but also memories, emotions and sometimes even tunes and old forgotten childhood melodies arising from deep inside. The other day, out of the deep painful darkness I suddenly remembered a melody coming up to my consciousness. I knew it was some sort of a prayer in hebrew, my mother tongue, and assumed that it was one of the recurrent morning prayers of school that has come back to be, as the german language call it, an “ear worm“. First I was undisturbed by it and even felt a shimmering sense of sacredness- such an ancient piece of song, written probably so long ago, has risen from the past to accompany me. I was sure it was one of the prayers that we would sing in school in the mornings, day by day.