at first i felt angry about all the joys that were taken from me: iced mochas, chai, roti, fried goodness, drinking, smoking, the other smoking, melted cheese, instant coffee. uffff!!!! then i came to accept that this was some kind of purification, to make this body-temple better cleansed to serve the soul it houses. a clearer channel, a cleaner instrument. okay, i can live with that. there is still an outsideness to that. that i am here to serve a purpose outside of me, bigger than me. a sacrifice, perhaps. and i may have become resigned to yet resentful of this spiritual calling. a consolation that God cares about me enough to purify me, but not fully excited to serve this purpose because of the "sacrifices" it compels, without my input on the matter.
walking around in SoHo today, another thought occurred to me. i spent about 2 hours exploring the stores - dept and boutique - on Broadway between Spring and Canal streets. at first i was looking for the New York City magic in those stores, in the flurried crowds all flashing fake gold and big bling. in the funky, kitschy style that is pure New York. but then the old feelings returned. nauseated by the materialism it surfaced in myself, all the clothes and shoes started to look stupid and ugly and meaningless. they started to look like props in a play i had seen before. there was no magic here. just stuff. a lot of stuff that people don't need, but it was made, and then the desire for it was created. and i get sucked in, every time. it takes a little less time each turn though, to zoom back out and see through it, to come back to my self. i left the stores. i didn't need more stuff. i have plenty of beautiful clothes and shoes for this beautiful mad city.
then i felt free. i could just walk around, see anything, do anything, because i had no agenda anymore. i didn't "need" to get boots or anything to get outfitted for the cold. what i had on me was enough for the weather today. and what awaits me - the future colderness of new york, as well as more warm and beautiful clothes and boots and scarves in boxes in seattle - will hopefully all come together in the same time. today i will only pursue what i need today.
it was about that time in the almost-shopping/exploring spree when i would have sat down at a cafe - with my sister or a friend or my cellphone. we would be exhausted, weighed down with bags, and need a place to rest and recharge. to connect with real human beings. to have a sweet treat or the familiar comfort of a decked up coffee drink. but the caffeine is not so good for me, or the sugar and dairy for that matter. i didn't have bags but i was tired, and alone. and there was no cafe that could make me feel significantly better, because of the other ways it would harm me. that was when i became more free. i realized, all the vices that were taken from me, have left me with no escape routes. no easy comfort, no filling in for home in a new city where i am not yet rooted. all i had was me. home was in my heart was in my body.
with that, i finally left Soho. it's not that i won't seek home in cozy cafes or iced drinks anymore. but i will know the difference between seeking comfort and finding home. you can't get everything you want all the time or even most of the time. but when what you seek is in your heart, there is real comfort in knowing that it is accessible, it is here. in stillness and rest, i find myself whole, and enough.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
body home / home body
"i stand on the railing poised to fall
balanced on the edge of the dividing wall
i fear not the death that fear all
it is life that terrifies my soul..."
i first read this poem/lyrics excerpt when i was around 13 or 14. i don't know who wrote it. it settled into my consciousness deeply. it was true for a long time. about wanting to escape life, to not live.
these 4 lines are ringing inside my head non-stop today. but why? i have never wanted more to be alive. it has taken me this long, most of 29 and three-quarter years of life to come to this feeling. i have drifted, been unconscious, been slapped into alertness by life, made choices, made mistakes, fucked it all up, and finally started to awake and eventually, to create. in order to begin to heal, i have had to face the extent of my trauma. the process of healing feels deathly painful, and i suppose the spiritual philosophers would say that it is a dying of sorts. it is the death of what is toxic, what holds us back, what we can't let go of. and there is no way out but through it.
my current learnings are to stay in my body no matter what is going on. my demon is dissociation. i was shown how i used it to survive, and now i'm ready to let it go. but feeling all your feelings hurts so bad! no wonder i want to escape. but the power of staying, is to not abandon myself. if i can't be present with and accepting of all my feelings, i find myself seeking to fill that void in other ways. that just leaves more emptiness. i am ready to fill up my own body with my spirit, my being, being here.
i always said i suck at meditation. i was frustrated because i thought i couldn't do it. but then april laughingly said it was a lesson in failing over and over, and it changed everything. i can do that! or at least, i'm willing to do that if that's what it is, if that's what it takes. coming back from dissociation is no different. i leave, i catch myself thinking and gone, i breathe, i come back softly. and before i know it, i've left again, but again, i notice, and i come back.
leaving seattle. going to new york. in 3 days.
now that i've decided to live in my body full-time, i have never been more ready to be in a place that is so electric, with a strong heartbeat. i am ready to walk, taste, smell, touch it all. i am ready to dance. no actually i am craving it. my toes are tingling often. i feel like i'm coming out of the sick bay into the world again.
have you noticed that the sun has been shining for me all week? i have. and i have loved it back with my eyes, my smile, wide open arms and gasping for sunshine flavored air.
i stand on the railings poised to fly. i leave nothing behind. it/they/you are all in my heart, in my body, in who i've become here. thank you.
balanced on the edge of the dividing wall
i fear not the death that fear all
it is life that terrifies my soul..."
i first read this poem/lyrics excerpt when i was around 13 or 14. i don't know who wrote it. it settled into my consciousness deeply. it was true for a long time. about wanting to escape life, to not live.
these 4 lines are ringing inside my head non-stop today. but why? i have never wanted more to be alive. it has taken me this long, most of 29 and three-quarter years of life to come to this feeling. i have drifted, been unconscious, been slapped into alertness by life, made choices, made mistakes, fucked it all up, and finally started to awake and eventually, to create. in order to begin to heal, i have had to face the extent of my trauma. the process of healing feels deathly painful, and i suppose the spiritual philosophers would say that it is a dying of sorts. it is the death of what is toxic, what holds us back, what we can't let go of. and there is no way out but through it.
my current learnings are to stay in my body no matter what is going on. my demon is dissociation. i was shown how i used it to survive, and now i'm ready to let it go. but feeling all your feelings hurts so bad! no wonder i want to escape. but the power of staying, is to not abandon myself. if i can't be present with and accepting of all my feelings, i find myself seeking to fill that void in other ways. that just leaves more emptiness. i am ready to fill up my own body with my spirit, my being, being here.
i always said i suck at meditation. i was frustrated because i thought i couldn't do it. but then april laughingly said it was a lesson in failing over and over, and it changed everything. i can do that! or at least, i'm willing to do that if that's what it is, if that's what it takes. coming back from dissociation is no different. i leave, i catch myself thinking and gone, i breathe, i come back softly. and before i know it, i've left again, but again, i notice, and i come back.
leaving seattle. going to new york. in 3 days.
now that i've decided to live in my body full-time, i have never been more ready to be in a place that is so electric, with a strong heartbeat. i am ready to walk, taste, smell, touch it all. i am ready to dance. no actually i am craving it. my toes are tingling often. i feel like i'm coming out of the sick bay into the world again.
have you noticed that the sun has been shining for me all week? i have. and i have loved it back with my eyes, my smile, wide open arms and gasping for sunshine flavored air.
i stand on the railings poised to fly. i leave nothing behind. it/they/you are all in my heart, in my body, in who i've become here. thank you.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
When i lived in You
When i lived in Beauty
i smiled easily and often
When i lived in Truth
i became bolder and kinder
When i lived in Love
it gave me pleasure to give
And so,
Beauty, Truth and Love
came to live in me.
i smiled easily and often
When i lived in Truth
i became bolder and kinder
When i lived in Love
it gave me pleasure to give
And so,
Beauty, Truth and Love
came to live in me.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
breathe pain breathe
"In addition to pain during menstruation, the pain of endometriosis can occur at other times of the month and doesn't have to be just on the date on menses. There can be pain with ovulation, pain associated with adhesions, pain caused by inflammation in the pelvic cavity, pain during bowel movements and urination, during general bodily movement i.e. exercise, pain from standing or walking, and pain with intercourse. But the most desperate pain is usually with menstruation and many women dread having their periods. Pain can also start a week before menses, during and even a week after menses, or it can be constant. There is no known cure for endometriosis." - Wikipedia
the word that stands out the most for me today is desperate. this kind of pain makes me desperate. each time it happens, i hear myself in my head saying "it hurts so bad i feel like dying." but then, i don't die. that's almost worse.
and then, other voices start filtering in. i remember Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chodron saying something about being present with the pain - to notice it in each moment, and see it, feel it, see how it changes. it is pretty dynamic, i notice. then i remember people telling me to breathe. and i notice that i stopped. there was an inhale i never let go of because i thought i might crumble. i exhale, and soften a little. then i hear people around me expressing love and care, and i feel bad for them, i know witnessing isn't easy, for them or me. my family happens to call me and i get off the phone in a hurry. i don't want to tell them how bad it is and they can hear it from how i can't talk. but later, when i can notice again, i feel cared for.
what is it that brings me back to hope on a night like this, when even the painkillers don't filter through to my body? mmm.... i guess it's remembering the long hike from 2 weeks ago, when i was preparing my body for the spiritual wilderness retreat. that retreat is this weekend and now i'm not going, coz of the pain and coz i couldn't face no running water with my body's current needs. but, as Christine reminded me, i'm exactly where i was divinely placed in this moment.
i'll be retreating in bed this weekend, letting go of the idea that God is on a mountain waiting for me to visit.
the word that stands out the most for me today is desperate. this kind of pain makes me desperate. each time it happens, i hear myself in my head saying "it hurts so bad i feel like dying." but then, i don't die. that's almost worse.
and then, other voices start filtering in. i remember Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chodron saying something about being present with the pain - to notice it in each moment, and see it, feel it, see how it changes. it is pretty dynamic, i notice. then i remember people telling me to breathe. and i notice that i stopped. there was an inhale i never let go of because i thought i might crumble. i exhale, and soften a little. then i hear people around me expressing love and care, and i feel bad for them, i know witnessing isn't easy, for them or me. my family happens to call me and i get off the phone in a hurry. i don't want to tell them how bad it is and they can hear it from how i can't talk. but later, when i can notice again, i feel cared for.
what is it that brings me back to hope on a night like this, when even the painkillers don't filter through to my body? mmm.... i guess it's remembering the long hike from 2 weeks ago, when i was preparing my body for the spiritual wilderness retreat. that retreat is this weekend and now i'm not going, coz of the pain and coz i couldn't face no running water with my body's current needs. but, as Christine reminded me, i'm exactly where i was divinely placed in this moment.
i'll be retreating in bed this weekend, letting go of the idea that God is on a mountain waiting for me to visit.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
love-light and butterflight
often when people die we cry. we get sad. we mourn. we miss them. sometimes we think that death is random, or perhaps unfair, or maybe untimely, or unwanted, or cruel. but we can say all those things about life. life is bizarre. we know bio-logic-ally how people get pregnant, but really, that is some random magic we have accepted as logic. penis, vagina, sperm, swimming, egg, fertilization, conception, birth.
but really, why is it that way? we don't know. it could have been any one of a gazillion ways. and why does the baby come out of the vagina, or as my friend once described - what business does a watermelon have coming out of a lemon? it's puzzling. i'm about to become a maasi. coming-soon baby has the outsides shaped, and the insides are being carved. it is pretty close to fully developed now, having grown from a sunflower seed size to a mango. it could come out now, and it would be a lot easier and less painful for my sister, actually for mango baby too. but no, these paths are not meant to be. life is hard. we are always going to be watermelons trying to squeeze through lemons, not believing it to be possible, because of our large size (ego/ physical mind) and hard shell (physical body).
but actually, we underestimate ourselves. we are much more collapsible, deflatable, twistable, shrinkable, and adaptable than we imagined. we only know our bigness, the space we want to occupy. but we have forgotten our smallness, the space we come from, the space that remains intact inside us, the core seed. when life is hard, we are forced (or we learn) to shed our extra layers, to pass through the eye of the needle and still retain our essence. when we think we have nothing or nobody, we shrink. we go deep within, into the quiet dark magic that we came from, to access our godliness. life can be random, unfair, untimely, unwanted, or cruel. death can be perfect, and beautiful.
we are but butterflies, constantly in metamorphosis. and like every transformation that is radical and beautiful, it is painful.
i welcome the shapes that are emerging. and remember to cocoon yourself in love and light to get you through the pain meanwhile.
for neena goswamy and emil paddison.
but really, why is it that way? we don't know. it could have been any one of a gazillion ways. and why does the baby come out of the vagina, or as my friend once described - what business does a watermelon have coming out of a lemon? it's puzzling. i'm about to become a maasi. coming-soon baby has the outsides shaped, and the insides are being carved. it is pretty close to fully developed now, having grown from a sunflower seed size to a mango. it could come out now, and it would be a lot easier and less painful for my sister, actually for mango baby too. but no, these paths are not meant to be. life is hard. we are always going to be watermelons trying to squeeze through lemons, not believing it to be possible, because of our large size (ego/ physical mind) and hard shell (physical body).
but actually, we underestimate ourselves. we are much more collapsible, deflatable, twistable, shrinkable, and adaptable than we imagined. we only know our bigness, the space we want to occupy. but we have forgotten our smallness, the space we come from, the space that remains intact inside us, the core seed. when life is hard, we are forced (or we learn) to shed our extra layers, to pass through the eye of the needle and still retain our essence. when we think we have nothing or nobody, we shrink. we go deep within, into the quiet dark magic that we came from, to access our godliness. life can be random, unfair, untimely, unwanted, or cruel. death can be perfect, and beautiful.
we are but butterflies, constantly in metamorphosis. and like every transformation that is radical and beautiful, it is painful.
i welcome the shapes that are emerging. and remember to cocoon yourself in love and light to get you through the pain meanwhile.
for neena goswamy and emil paddison.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Safety / Violence
There are no "random acts of violence". It is safety that is random. I'm just lucky that I didn't get raped, groped, slapped or called a bitch today. It doesn't mean that it can't happen tonight.
At some point, I just had to stop looking over my shoulder, and to re-learn and practice that daily.
At some point, I just had to stop looking over my shoulder, and to re-learn and practice that daily.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Battle Against Sexism
From the battle of the sexes to the battle against sexism. it's a painful and confusing struggle. we are seduced with war. tempted to lash out, hurl poisonous words and be steel-chested and rock-hearted to face "the enemy".
but what i feel is a fiery river of pain. my spirit collapses inwards, protecting herself against the violence. my heart contracts. my belly knots and i sob. i sob with rage and anxiety and the tired hopeless feeling of "but i didn't do anything". it's an old feeling, this flame of misogyny my sisters and mothers have been burning in for generations.
the hot tears make puddles on my homework, the social change work i was in the middle of. that's what sexism does. it interrupts the process of change, the process of revolution and gaining power. that's why they asked our great-grandmothers to jump into the fire when their husbands died.
"Of course, women so empowered are dangerous." audre lorde
i stop crying. i reach out. i write to my sisters. i write out.
i'm going back in, not just for me, but for those of us to come. i will remain and speak out and face the witch-burning attempts. i take the vilification and targeting as an affirmation of my powerfulness.
and i also know, you're not my enemy. you're just afraid and insecure. you will never complete yourself this way, by trying to make me less than you and make us a perfectly imbalanced whole. i can still show up, ruined, lovely, peaceful, and unafraid.
but what i feel is a fiery river of pain. my spirit collapses inwards, protecting herself against the violence. my heart contracts. my belly knots and i sob. i sob with rage and anxiety and the tired hopeless feeling of "but i didn't do anything". it's an old feeling, this flame of misogyny my sisters and mothers have been burning in for generations.
the hot tears make puddles on my homework, the social change work i was in the middle of. that's what sexism does. it interrupts the process of change, the process of revolution and gaining power. that's why they asked our great-grandmothers to jump into the fire when their husbands died.
"Of course, women so empowered are dangerous." audre lorde
i stop crying. i reach out. i write to my sisters. i write out.
i'm going back in, not just for me, but for those of us to come. i will remain and speak out and face the witch-burning attempts. i take the vilification and targeting as an affirmation of my powerfulness.
and i also know, you're not my enemy. you're just afraid and insecure. you will never complete yourself this way, by trying to make me less than you and make us a perfectly imbalanced whole. i can still show up, ruined, lovely, peaceful, and unafraid.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Ruined and lovely
"Today, like every day, we are ruined and lonely." - Rumi
When I first read that I heard/read it as lovely, not lonely. Now that's all that makes sense. I woke up today feeling ruined and lovely. Feeling sadness, stiffness, confusion, and ache from last week, last night, or maybe the last 5 years. Been using too much, dwelling on too many exes, and trying to convince myself that my heart is, in fact, still intact. I'm not convinced.
Maybe broken isn't the right word, but definitely saturated beyond capacity or my imagination. But then, what do I know of the heart's capacity?
Grief can feel like stillness.
Hope feels mindless, and that's a relief.
Today, I am ruined and lovely.
Yesterday, when I was happy, I was ruined and lovely then too.
Maybe that's what I can hold on to. I was never intact to begin with.
When I first read that I heard/read it as lovely, not lonely. Now that's all that makes sense. I woke up today feeling ruined and lovely. Feeling sadness, stiffness, confusion, and ache from last week, last night, or maybe the last 5 years. Been using too much, dwelling on too many exes, and trying to convince myself that my heart is, in fact, still intact. I'm not convinced.
Maybe broken isn't the right word, but definitely saturated beyond capacity or my imagination. But then, what do I know of the heart's capacity?
Grief can feel like stillness.
Hope feels mindless, and that's a relief.
Today, I am ruined and lovely.
Yesterday, when I was happy, I was ruined and lovely then too.
Maybe that's what I can hold on to. I was never intact to begin with.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Stillness
I don't know what stillness is. I don't have it, not in this moment anyways. From what little I understand, it's in there somewhere, deep below the surface.
Does it mean to slow down until your insides feel still?
Does it mean that your mind stills and there is quiet inside?
Does it mean to be unperturbed no matter what happens?
I'm not still yet. The mind chatters constantly, I'm always worried about being late to something or not doing enough or maybe not being enough, so I move too quickly and try to do too much and end up with bruises I don't remember receiving. Pain too, is a way to make you slow down.
Maybe I should focus on remembering that I am enough. That there is enough hope in the world. That there is enough money too, and resources for all of us. We are just wasting it on war and nuclear weapons and large screen TVs. There is enough peace too, and enough of us who are actively trying to de-escalate ourselves on a daily basis, in every moment, so that WE are not causes of harm, but initiators of love.
Today I went to work then acupuncture then sound healing + meditation. Then I came home and washed a lot of dishes while listening to Jagjit Singh radio station. Each of those activities was equally meditative when I was completely focused, as present as I could be. We set intentions/affirmations after meditation, and here are some of the ones that I remember/want to hold on to. Grateful for and crediting all those who were there (without revealing names)and collectively this emerged -
* I am okay with myself, no matter what.
* My dreams are given to me by God, and God will accomplish them.
* I am connection.
* I am serenity.
* I am deeply loved.
* I am surrender.
And maybe, if I can stop seeking so hard and stop trying to file, sort, organize and label the chaos, I'll be still too.
Does it mean to slow down until your insides feel still?
Does it mean that your mind stills and there is quiet inside?
Does it mean to be unperturbed no matter what happens?
I'm not still yet. The mind chatters constantly, I'm always worried about being late to something or not doing enough or maybe not being enough, so I move too quickly and try to do too much and end up with bruises I don't remember receiving. Pain too, is a way to make you slow down.
Maybe I should focus on remembering that I am enough. That there is enough hope in the world. That there is enough money too, and resources for all of us. We are just wasting it on war and nuclear weapons and large screen TVs. There is enough peace too, and enough of us who are actively trying to de-escalate ourselves on a daily basis, in every moment, so that WE are not causes of harm, but initiators of love.
Today I went to work then acupuncture then sound healing + meditation. Then I came home and washed a lot of dishes while listening to Jagjit Singh radio station. Each of those activities was equally meditative when I was completely focused, as present as I could be. We set intentions/affirmations after meditation, and here are some of the ones that I remember/want to hold on to. Grateful for and crediting all those who were there (without revealing names)and collectively this emerged -
* I am okay with myself, no matter what.
* My dreams are given to me by God, and God will accomplish them.
* I am connection.
* I am serenity.
* I am deeply loved.
* I am surrender.
And maybe, if I can stop seeking so hard and stop trying to file, sort, organize and label the chaos, I'll be still too.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Surrender
I need to spell it out so I can really try to practice being surrender. And keep adding to the list as I figure new things out that help me surrender.
• To relax in mind and body
• Be present, be fully here now
• Accept what is happening
• Trust it is for the best
• Let go of expectations or attachment to outcomes
• Feel your feelings. Allow them to surface in your body too.
• Respond in the present moment to whatever is coming up – give it attention, space, and appropriate nourishment
• Don’t worry or have anxiety or trip about the future – being present now will lead to where things and you need to move
• Dissolve ego – “I” didn’t do it well or badly. It was exactly as it was meant to be.
• Don’t be in regrets about the past. Trust that it was meant to be. And it’s over.
• Know that God is in the current moment, and that moment is a gift – the present – from where you can learn what you need to know right now.
• Pay attention to coincidences. They are not coincidences.
• Enjoy each moment. Every moment that you think you’re not in the right place or not having fun or joy, really pay attention to what this moment wants to teach you.
• Trust the timing of things. Diving timing is always perfect. There are no oversights or mistakes (or coincidences).
• Trust your body over your mind because your soul rings the bells of the temple loud and clear, before you can analyze why it feels a certain way. Cultivate prioritizing your body’s messages and needs.
• Be okay with moving slowly. Everything will happen as and when it needs to. Relax.
• Go with the flow.
• To relax in mind and body
• Be present, be fully here now
• Accept what is happening
• Trust it is for the best
• Let go of expectations or attachment to outcomes
• Feel your feelings. Allow them to surface in your body too.
• Respond in the present moment to whatever is coming up – give it attention, space, and appropriate nourishment
• Don’t worry or have anxiety or trip about the future – being present now will lead to where things and you need to move
• Dissolve ego – “I” didn’t do it well or badly. It was exactly as it was meant to be.
• Don’t be in regrets about the past. Trust that it was meant to be. And it’s over.
• Know that God is in the current moment, and that moment is a gift – the present – from where you can learn what you need to know right now.
• Pay attention to coincidences. They are not coincidences.
• Enjoy each moment. Every moment that you think you’re not in the right place or not having fun or joy, really pay attention to what this moment wants to teach you.
• Trust the timing of things. Diving timing is always perfect. There are no oversights or mistakes (or coincidences).
• Trust your body over your mind because your soul rings the bells of the temple loud and clear, before you can analyze why it feels a certain way. Cultivate prioritizing your body’s messages and needs.
• Be okay with moving slowly. Everything will happen as and when it needs to. Relax.
• Go with the flow.
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