Home for the month. My green dervish is whirling in the centre of my tent as I rest from the daily stretch and a hip alignment. One day my hip will be aligned, this day is coming near as it’s almost there, and one day I will be able to whirl again. Until then, this dervish spirit gives me inspiration and emotional comfort, that this puppet is making me a home in many spots around the globe. He is turning around itself and I was turning around the globe in the past three years. Maybe the time has come to settle down with the teaching, maybe the time has come to revolve around my inner being rather then around the outside globe.Continue reading “Regaining my Body, Regaining my Life”
The days of Patnem are rich in precious beach sunsets. If one would stroll along the beach, for sure he would find, scattered sitting on the sands, many other patients of the clinic. My memories from last year was of sitting by myself in solitude at the southtest part of the beach, where the sands meet the rocks and the waves meet the cliff. I would sit there in silence and watch the waves come and go, the sun dip and disappear into the air pollution, the colors of the sky change, and the foam of the waves hiss all along and disappear into nothingness.Continue reading “Learn to Love”
6 days of: a ferry, 2 cars, underground, 3 airplanes, coat hat gloves & boots, many missing hours of sleep, not even a fraction of a migraine, lots of self- strokes- acknowledgements, food I’m not supposed to eat, and a long long day that started with a morning light in London and still continues with a morning light in Bangalore 12 hours later – no night in between, no sleep, so although a day has passed for me it’s still the same day.
It’s actually still the same day that I had left Akhaldands Whidbey school on the island, the retreat was done but it’s still the same day that goes on and on… And no migraines!Continue reading “From the Dance Hall to the Stretch Hall”
There is something I like about living in a foreign country, communicating through a tongue that’s not my best spoken one, and observing a culture that I had not been raised amongst. What I like, other then realising that each and every society has it’s own box of definitions, rights and wrongs, do and don’t do, acceptable and unacceptable, common and uncommon, is that I have a broader “permission” to ask questions about it. It’s easier to me to give myself a permission to question.
Already in my childhood, I had questioned inside me these kind of things. Question about weird things I noticed in the society I grew up in (mostly allegedly-gender-differences). But the adults have mostly found my questions weird and called me “critical” as a softer way to express that I’m “too judgmental”. I found society weird, society found me weird, and thus I ended up the grown up I find myself to be.
I remember when I was young in Israel we had a repeated advertisement for Coca Cola on TV and on the radio. Literally translating from hebrew, it would mean “Coca Cola the taste of life” (קוקה קולה, טעם החיים). Being quite a sour kid that would not smile much, I remember asking my parents- “But what is good about this drink, that if someone has a sour life, the Cola would taste sour to him?”.
My greatest guide has passed away, and now she is truly above and beyond. I feel sorrow and invite it in, but went for a walk upon this land, and all I could honestly see was beauty all around. So I sent it all to her and as I bid farewell, I know it has probably been the exact time for her to leave her fragile body behind and cary on. Cary on to the light, dearest Akash, you are now released to go on to whatever path is there for you.
You are always with me in my heart and deepest being, so now you can truly go on. Your heartful and touching teaching has been so gracefully passed on. I remember you every time I hear the bell gong, “wake up, wake up” it says in your calling soft voice. I walk around me and between the tears all I see is endless serene beauty, I send it all to you for your path onwards, along with love and the uttermost gratefulness for everything you had taught me. Continue reading “A Letter to an Expired Dervish”
Now is the Only Time
In the weekend I laid down for a three hour meditation. During the quite lengthy trip inside the body, that was going on and on through many episodes in realms that I mostly can’t recall or remember / think about with a mundane-state-of-mind, I saw again the desert of the Jordan Valley as if from a birds view from above. This vision was something that I was actually able to cary on with me in into the “usual” state of mind realm and actually remember (most of them I usually forget). In the vision I had an inner knowing that this valley will stay as it is. As it is, meaning mostly deserted and uninhabited (it is currently inhabited, but scarcely).
This is not the first time in the past week that a vision of this particular wilderness came to me during meditation, from this particular point of view. But this time the vision continued, and I had a strong sense, that this only, this barren land only will look and feel almost the same, this deserted valley along with the dead sea and the surrounding white land, scorched by sun and salt. But all of the rest of the past that I experienced emotionally in psychical strong places in the ‘holy’ land, is gone forever.
After 8 months in India of stretching regime for the spine and two seasons in the Bone and Body Clinic, I finally leave the subcontinent and head to Portugal. My initial reason for coming here is another Gurdjieff Movement retreat, that is to take place in a little meditation centre called Karuna (=compassion). I arrive to the little town of Monchique a few days before, and spend my days mostly in solitude, working (for money) and practicing (for the soul).
One day Boaz, a friend and the organizer of the retreat, sends me a whatsapp message to check if I am alright. “Alright?” I ask. “There are fires in three directions around Monchique”, he replied. Oh, im here and i didn’t even know…
“Don’t you miss your home?”, a fellow seeker asks.
“I have no home to miss”, I answer her, “or rather- anywhere I am at the moment, and where I relate to what I’m doing presently, becomes my home”.
At the first time in my life when I left my parent’s home and moved to the hectic city from a relatively quite neighbourhood, I didn’t find home. I would go back to the empty rented apartment after a day’s work and feel lonely. There was nothing there for me to relate to- it’s not as if the job was very soul-fulfilling (it did bring me more then enough money, but as I soon found out- money is not a currency to the soul), I was in a new place and didn’t have any friends around, and no hobbies or practice to get me pasting through the days at ease. I had a roof over my head, clean place, hot shower, but I had no peace of mind and no relation to the journey. There was no journey.
Or: Spine Alignment
or: Working with a Scared Little One
The First Dervish Prayer
May the Warriors find Peace within
And the wars of the selves come to an end.
May the Warriors find Peace within
Let the healing of the Earth begin
Yah Rahman, Yah Rahim
With Compassion and Mercy
Melt away the anger — let me live again.
Melt away the fear — let me love again.
Melt away the sorrow — let me smile again.
The True Warrior understands that enemies in the outer world are all manifestations of inner personality traits and prisoners that had not been given the proper right of speech. A true martial artist is actually working on peace of mind, body and emotions, rather then war.
In order for one to heal, in the body, in the mind and in the emotions, one must embrace a sense of compassion and mercy for oneself. First, for oneself. Then, for all his little inner selves. And only at last, can she be compassionate towards the other. Real Compassion to the other must hold compassion for oneself first.
TransActional analysis, injunctions etched by a parent to a very young daughter while still forming the perspective about what is life and reality and still forming a personality.
After being away from my birthland for more then half a year, I send my parents many pictures of me smiling and enjoying myself, amongst them photos of the birthday cake I made.
One of the photos was quite comic- my friends are poking me to try and get me to smile to the camera.