This guy.
teachers
YES /
The next real literary 'rebels' in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of anti-rebels, born oglers who dare somehow to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse and instantiate single-entendre principles.
Read MoreWell, this sucks. /
this monkey's gone to heaven /
A yoga teacher of mine used to say, "The longest journey you'll ever take is from your head to your heart." It occurred to me, I mean really, that the separation from knowing something academically and realizing it in your bones really can't be forced and there's nothing you can *do* to force this learning. Then I realized that the ego (or, the source of All Things Fear) can't be reasoned with. I know the Course says this, and this is exactly my point. It doesn't matter how many times I read something and think I understand it -- until I can actually *feel* it, its truth remains outside of me. So, take an adage like "the ego can't be reasoned w/." Sure, makes sense. I understand it, or think I do, but then as soon as I eat a pound of black pepper cashews I go thinking I'm gross and a total loser. And then I try and tell myself how ridiculous I'm being and this is all transitory and doesn't really exist, blah blah blah. And guess what? The words have no effect. Why? Ummm because that blasted ego can't be reasoned with. But when I, instead of trying to talk myself into a different state, do nothing but go right into the intensity of the emotion, (I try to connect with where I feel the anxiety physically, in my body), and then I just be with that, and I don't try to run from it by philosophizing, well then it starts to soften and dissipate. And in this way I make the translation from head to heart, not knowing (but thinking I do) to learning.
***
Russel Simmons was interviewed a couple of weeks ago in the Times Magazine by Deborah Solomon. She's great. Anyway, you know he's all yoga, yoga, yoga and he just wrote this book called Do You or something like that. So he asks her if she meditates, and she answers that she "read[s] in bed...[t]hat for me is meditation." To which Russell answers (and this is the best): "No it’s not. It’s noise. It’s the opposite. To be awake is to be fully present, no noise, just you and God." Dude that is classic. And so honest, and I love that he just called it like it is. The thing is, I always feel a little bit hesitant to discount anyone's idea of meditation b/c it's such a personal thing, but, I gotta say, there's a big difference between reading (or *doing* anything) and sitting. Reading doesn't bring up your stuff, for one, and for two, it's not like it clears the brain. So it's prob a good idea to have a meditation practice AND read. Reading's good. Just not in place of sitting.
***
I just added another class at Equinox! This one is at the Westwood location which is close to my house. Wednesday mornings REALLY EARLY ... but it'll be good to get up and at 'em consistently. The class doesn't start until June so I've got some time to relish what it's like to sleep in past sunrise. This makes four a week, which is what I was teaching in Austin, and I think I'm maxed out for regularly scheduled classes -- meaning occasional subbing and privates aside. I swear I'm ridiculously lucky.
did someone say 'blog'? /
***
Congrats to Dre who made it through her very first 3 day cleanse! Dink! I can't say it wasn't painful for us both. Several times I begged her to quit as she tried to convince me that sashimi should be included, as should coffee, soy milk creamer, and, my personal favorite -- the bag of vegan cookies she brought home on Day One. It turns out she just likes complaining (her words, but I concur) and had every intention of making it through. Next up? Colonics. Pray to baby jesus she doesn't read this.
***
I put a new Gandhi quote up today:
When somebody utters a lie before me, I get more angry with myself than with him because I then realize that untruth still exists somewhere deep within me.
This is why Gandhi's such a badass. (Present tense intended.) Well, one of the reasons. As the recipient of a lie, it can be really tempting to feel betrayed and make the liar wrong. Indeed, she IS responsible for her own actions. And yet, Gandhi's assertion -- that the recipient must, in some way, be holding space for untruth -- reminds me that I still have a ways to go on my mission to follow truth. Oddly, I feel happy -- because at least now I'm aware, and that's where growth can happen.
***
My friend recently found out his estranged mother has terminal cancer. A) Cancer blows. B) Mom having cancer *really* blows. C) (Mom + cancer) + estranged = Therapy. I haven't had a parent w/ cancer, but I get the estranged part and it's no picnic. My dad and I didn't talk for about five years. I spent years - decades, really - being pissed and feeling bitter about his imperfections. Naturally I sought out and found agreement in every therapist and friend I told. Yep. He was wrong.
Then, a couple of years ago I met this pastor/meditation teacher at a yoga workshop. I had been introduced to him after one of the sessions. He and I were talking casually and out of nowhere he turned to me and said: "You got anger." At first I was shocked by it, being all non-sequitur-y and all, and so I looked around thinking he must be talking to someone else. Nope. He caught my avoidance and repeated himself: "You got anger. You got anger towards your parents and you gotta learn to forgive." I laughed, because that's what I do when things get uncomfortable and boy, did someone build a bonfire in here or something?? The abridged version is that conversations ensued, and thank God -- that was the first time someone had ever told me that I was responsible for my own anger. The teacher didn't absolve my dad of his mistakes but he did explain that parents do the best they can with what they've been given, and if you want to not be like them, then you have to learn to forgive both them and yourself. Myself? Huh?! Yeah. Turns out, you have to drop the righteous indignance if you want to drop the pain that is ultimately beneath the anger. In this way, forgiveness is for you, not your transgressor.
Anyway, so I called my dad to talk, and ask for forgiveness for holding anger towards him. (I should disclose that I didn't call right away -- it took me a few months till I felt sincerity.) We started out bumpy; eventually it rounded the corner into a sweet conversation and I thought -- Yes! Case closed. Except then we didn't talk for another year, neither of us making the effort, and those feelings came up again. And you know what? I've cleaned it up with my dad prob three or four times since that initial effort. It'd be nice to think that once you deal w/ something it's done and over w/. Rats that it doesn't always work like that. Even now, my dad and I still do not talk that often, but finally! it's not because I hold any residual bitterness that I'm aware of. Forgiving yourself and your parent doesn't mean instant camaraderie. It doesn't mean painful things didn't happen in the past. It does mean that you're no longer bound by your anger. It means that you see those things that once stung with the eye of an observer. It means you stop wishing they were different. Their actions were no more theirs, than your faults are really yours. It means that now you can start to form healthy relationships with others because you've healed one of the most significant relationships you'll ever have. (If you think you can before this work is done, you're kidding yourself.) And at the end of the day, the forgiveness that you extend to others you also get to keep. And that's a pretty sweet trade.