Saturday, May 31, 2014

The Greatest Power There Is.

(re-posted from last september.)

Gurus, spiritual teachers, do tend to roam in predatory packs, herds or gaggles along the flat lands of the Indian Deccan. Now, large numbers have migrated to the west and are stalking urban and rural centers even as I write this. This is, after all, the New Age. In 1976 I was meditating in silence with my teacher of that time, U.S.N. Goenka, and with about two hundred other people from around the world for six straight months in Igatpurri, India. We were not supposed to utter a word, have eye contact, read, write or exercise other than a little stretching. We were, however, encouraged to keep breathing.

Near the end of the six months an American fellow, who had joined more recently, for some reason or other got it into his head that Goenka was a Jim Jones-type-of-guy, the anti-Christ, a demon, a devil. I’d seen it all before. He was convinced we were all about to drink the poison cool-aid at teatime. I, on the other hand, had the advantage of actually knowing Goenka. He could be a trifle severe at times, but that was hardly reason enough to call in the FBI or the DEA. And I’d lived through innumerable tea times. There is strong evidence now, all these many years later, that the sugar was rotting our teeth. But otherwise the stuff was harmless. And if anyone had suggested leaving out the sugar I might’ve killed him or her myself. We’re talking serious sense deprivation here, don’t forget.
Only four days into his time there, the hapless fellow decided that Goenka was bad, broke the sacred vow of silence, and walked about the grounds crying out to try and save us.

It must’ve been strange and discomforting, not to speak of eerie, pleading passionately to a bunch of silent, slow-moving people who wouldn’t pay attention or even acknowledge him. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth that morning when our American would-be saviour scurried in. The other people there at the time shuffled out as he ranted on about Goenka having taken over our minds. I continued to brush my teeth slowly, with concentration. I wasn’t about to rush the one small pleasure I had before the day of sitting on my zafu began. Brushing one’s teeth is not usually thought of as something one really waits for or looks forward to. After several months at that place, however, brushing one’s teeth felt like an orgy of sensual delight. It was four-thirty a.m.

As disconcerting as it may have been to plead to a group of silent and slow-moving zombies who wouldn’t pay any attention, I’m sure it was much worse trying to plead his case to me alone that morning. As he ranted on, I watched him through the mirror with a big, silly grin on my face. I just couldn’t resist. I continued to brush my teeth in silence, nodding my head up and down in complete agreement, grinning, with Colgate dribbling down my chin. Eventually he stopped, looked hard at me, and ran out into the darkness.

Soon after, we were all meditating in the main hall. Goenka was sitting on his platform and, since I had been at the monastery longer than most, I was allowed to sit in the front row facing him. There were hardly three weeks left; and the vibration in the room, to say the least, was deeply peaceful. There was a ringing in the room, the sound of profound and utter stillness.

I hardly heard the American fellow running in yelling, "I have to save you! I have to save you! You don’t see what he’s doing to you!" I didn’t even open my eyes. It seemed to be happening far away. I was unaware of him running up towards Goenka with a club until he reached the front; but by then it was too late. I doubt I could’ve moved quickly enough anyway. I saw the boy yell and lift the club up high even while Goenka’s eyes were still closed. But, just as the club reached its crest and was about to plummet downward, Goenka looked up at the boy with a power that shot through him as surely as if it had been a bullet. The fellow stumbled backwards, tripped down the steps and landed in a heap on the ground sobbing, the club lying harmlessly beside him.

And what was that power, you may ask? It was love. I saw it clearly. It was love, understanding, concern and complete detachment. Mostly, it was love.

 


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

I'm Not A Teacher.


I’m not a Teacher,
You’re not a Student.

This last article is written for those special people who have become interested in or perhaps even fascinated by the idea of meditation. If you’re searching for instructions into a Reiki Level 1 course, Tarot cards, healing with crystals or how to contact your dead grandmother, this will not work for you. As wonderful as all those things may be, these last pages are exclusively concerned with explaining the pure, ancient and highly respected science of meditation, how and why to include it in your life. There is really no certification at the end of studying and practicing. There is, however, tremendous relaxation, a profound sense of well-being and a greater understanding of something I call ‘self-knowledge.’

At the start of one of my recent classes, a scary-looking lady, with the expression of an eagle, asked what my qualifications were for teaching. A lesser man would have broken down and wept. What I said, however, and what I always say, is that I have no certificate or accreditation from any institute. I directed her and everyone to feel free to read the back of one of my books and learn a bit of my personal history, specifically as it pertains to the study, experience and teaching of meditation. I added that, most importantly, one has to rely on one’s own intellect and power of discrimination in order to choose who is worth listening to on any subject, especially this one. And, ultimately, one has to take what is useful from any teacher or technique that guarantees its results. Even the historical Buddha allegedly said that any technique worth employing must help a person in his or her life, here and now, right away.

The main teacher of my life, my beloved and revered Swami Shyamji, once gave me a piece of advice that I continue to keep close to my heart. As I was leaving his Himalayan hermitage to join a six-month, silent Vipassana Buddhist meditation retreat in Maharashtra, India, I asked if he had any last minute words of advice. “Yes, I do,” he said smiling impishly. “My advice is: Don’t be a Buddhist. Be the Buddha.” And with those words ringing in my ears I slithered away. Along with countless other words from Swamiji over the years, I’ve never forgotten that advice. I’ve often repeated it to my so-called students and even expanded upon it. Don’t be a Buddhist. Be the Buddha. Don’t be a Christian. Be the Christ. Don’t be a Hindu. Be Krishna. Don’t be a Sikh. Be Guru Nanak. Don’t be a Jew. Be Moses. Don’t be a Muslim. Be Mohammad.

So, no matter who we choose to listen to, sit with or learn from, it’s up to each of us to dig our own freedom, to find our own way, to become the enlightened one with no certificate to show for our trouble. Just freedom! It is in the light of this realization that I humbly offer these suggestions. In reality, I am not a teacher and you are not a student. If what I write is true and if it strikes a responsive chord within you, then we are united in that understanding. We are united not as teacher and student, but as Truth itself.

Having said all that, I should add something about why it may be helpful to seek some form of guidance or a ‘teacher’ when beginning to examine the science of meditation. One needn’t stay for long. One needn’t cook or clean for him or her, do anything strange in bed or hand over one’s money. What one must do is take advantage of the experience of a fellow traveler who has gone before, who has been up the path and who just might know the tricky twists and turns to watch out for along the way. And there’s one more reason to sit with someone whose meditation practice has matured. Those rare people who have dedicated themselves to the process over many years actually emanate a spiritual essence, a vibration that is transmitted to those around them. That may sound terribly mystical, but it’s a fact and a quality not to be underestimated.

On one visit from India many years ago, my dad asked why meditation seemed to have helped me so much, but not my sister, who had also been meditating for some years. She was a devotee of a highly respected teacher, master and guru from India, Swami Vivekananda, who had been a pioneer in bringing the information about meditation to the western world. Unfortunately, he had passed away long before my sister ever heard of him. I replied to my dad that I didn’t have a definitive answer to that question, assuming that he was even correct. But I offered a possible explanation. I said that if one wanted to learn to play the piano, it wouldn’t really be of any use to sit in front of a photo of one’s teacher placed on the music stand above the keys. Why would meditation be any different? Why, for that matter, would religion be any different? It’s interesting that all truly enlightened people have said that we are one life, one energy, one love, irrespective of caste, race, creed, color or any other apparent difference. Why does the essential and original message of the enlightened beings through the ages become so perverted as to cause wars? Don’t be a Buddhist. Be the Buddha.

There’s really nothing hard to understand about meditation. And yet, it’s widely misunderstood here in the western world, and even in its home country, India. From the Sanskrit word, dhyaan, meditation has become synonymous with all things flaky and maladjusted. It’s been blamed for wasted talents and even wasted lives. Nothing could be further from the truth. I will admit that I put the Saran Wrap in the refrigerator and the milk in the cupboard once in a while. But I, along with so many other people who have spent years meditating, have found something so fine, so beautiful and freeing that nothing can compare with it. Rather than blame the proud process of meditation for our foibles, we praise it as the cause of our deep sense of well-being.

My teacher used to say, “Nathan, the same mind that has gotten you into trouble can get you out of it.” In those days I rather hoped drugs might be the answer. But he assured me that was wrong, that drugs would only ruin my nervous system. I still prefer a mild pain-killer for headaches. However, somehow I came to understand that meditation is a powerful tool. Once trained, I realized, the mind could be used against the enemies of true happiness, such as a myriad of physical ailments, mental complexes and even the innate fear of death. Apparently, the Buddha was known to say that desires are the root cause of all problems. My mother said that lack of money is the root cause of all problems. My friend Danny seemed to think that not having regular sex is the root cause of all problems. Since I tried my mom’s solution and Danny’s solution for a while, I decided to try the Buddha’s, even though I never actually met the fellow. I thought I saw him once at a party, but I couldn’t be sure. Be that as it may, I was pretty concerned about losing my desire for money and relationships if I began to meditate. My girlfriend at the time was even more concerned that I would lose those desires. Now I see that’s not how it works. You don’t have to give up anything. You only have to add one thing to your life: a few minutes of meditation daily. Then sit back and watch it enhance whatever else you’re into. Watch it help you let go of what you want or need to let go of. Watch it make you see the cup as half full. Watch it make you happy.

One of the most prevalent misconceptions about meditation is that you have to stop your thoughts, kill your mind. What one has to stop, cut or kill is only the concept. Go hunting for small furry animals if you must. But, for heaven’s sake leave your mind alone. To allow a wild horse to settle down, it probably isn’t a great idea to put it in a very small corral. It’s far more preferable to give the creature a large, wide-open field to roam around in. In the same way, it’s far better to let the thoughts come and go freely. Merely sitting or lying down for some time each day and applying the technique assure a positive result from meditation, in fact. Only your misconceptions concerning what you’re doing can get in the way. The very act of stopping for a while will have a positive influence on your day, your life. That’s because, actually, you do not meditate. You just need to get out of the way for meditation to happen. It’s so easy, yet very few people can do it.

Nevertheless, this is where the use of a technique comes in. Dhyaan actually means ‘attention’ or ‘contemplation.’ Whether a mantra (usually a Sanskrit phrase) or the breath becomes your chosen point of attention, the results of meditation, as I’ve said, are assured. Done with the right understanding, you will enjoy a quieting of the mind and a heightened sense of well-being. Done with continuity, you will be well on your way to becoming a more contented person, walking happily through life while, of course, sometimes spoiling the milk by putting it in the cupboard.

There are three states of consciousness that everyone is very familiar with: the waking state, the dreaming state and the deep sleep state. From the moment of conception, the ancient sages have said, a person begins to forget that he or she has a fourth state, which is called Turiya in Sanskrit. This state permeates all the other states, just as water is the essence of the iceberg. So the very act of stopping all your activities and tuning in to the essence of your existence, which is what you’re effectively doing in meditation, will take care of a lot. And the benefits are many.

In eastern philosophies and scriptures, you’ll often read that whatever is transitory cannot be said to be real. You’ll read that whatever is eternal is real and true. So this body, mind, ego mechanism is in that case not real or even existing. The ancient sages said that there is, in fact, no death because there was no birth. The space from whence ‘we’ come from, to where ‘we’ go, is considered real. The technique becomes, in the light of the previous paragraph, like an anchor. Utilizing it helps bring one’s attention back to one’s own self, to the reality of the essential life animating your body and mind. The technique helps us stop. As well, the technique trains the mind to focus like a laser beam, which will have far-reaching effects on your day, your life and, ultimately, your spiritual knowledge.

The Vedantic scriptures liken the mind to a monkey flitting from branch to branch, tree to tree. Our mind flits from object to object and from thought to thought. We become so extraverted over the course of the years, or even as each day progresses, that it behooves us to find a way to regroup, so to speak. So, when we’ve decided to let the thoughts come and go freely while we sit and watch, we merely add one new thought. The phrase, or mantra, becomes a very significant and enjoyable thought as time marches on. All true mantras mean virtually the same thing: ‘I am the pure life, the essential energy animating all the forms.’ There is a popular Buddhist mantra that goes ‘Om mani padme hum’: ‘Behold the jewel within the lotus flower.’ There is a popular Hindu mantr that goes ‘Amaram Hum Madhuram Hum’: ‘I am immortal, I am blissful and indivisible.’ All real mantras basically refer to the one life, the one light at the center of all beings, the energy that animates all the forms.

It is often noted that Sanskrit is used for mantras because the vibration of the phrases resonate within the human mind to open certain spiritual channels. For an in-depth dissertation on the vibrational qualities of Sanskrit, I recommend Chaytna’s book, ‘Let’s Learn Hindi,’ which can be found through her website; www.letslearnhindi.com. I’ve always used the Sanskrit word; ‘Shyam’, as my mantra. It’s the name of my teacher and of the power that sustains life. It really doesn’t matter what mantra you choose, although Sanskrit mantras are the most recommended. However, choosing a mantra and sticking to it is important. Meditation is a technique of being one-pointed, after all. Chogyam Trungpa once wrote that western people tend to try many different techniques, which is like a thirsty person digging many shallow wells but never hitting water. He wrote that we should dig one well deep enough to get to the desired result.

Having chosen a mantra, or been given one by a spiritual guide, master or guru, you’re ready to begin. My teacher used to say that you should be able to meditate anywhere unless somebody is physically shaking you. I once climbed all the way down to the bottom of a dormant volcano in Hawaii, called Haliakalu, in a quest to find the perfect spot for meditation. A hut had been constructed there for trekkers, fugitives and folks looking for a perfect spot to meditate. I felt so sure I’d finally found my place. Unfortunately, since there were no panes of glass nor screens in the windows, a couple of flies flew fairly frequently in there making a racket like they were at the El Macombo on a Saturday night. I left in a huff the next morning. Later, on my way to India for the first time, I was compelled to sleep on the rooftop of a hotel in Peshawar after a long and tiring day of travel. The noise level from the crowds up there and the hollering, smoke and smells from the streets below were off the charts. I was convinced meditation would be a wasted endeavor in such a place. But, I had little choice. It was my rule to sit every evening one hour. And after an hour, in spite of my misgivings, I felt rejuvenated, refreshed. As well, contrary to popular belief, it’s not necessary to sit ramrod straight with legs crossed. It’s not even necessary to sit at all. You can lie down, settle into a comfortable chair or sit on a cushion with legs out or crossed. Since meditation is first a process of relaxation, let the sense of ease be your guide. You should feel relaxed and comfortable.

It’s easy to find a spot where there is very little noise. It’s easy to find a spot where there are virtually no pungent odors, unless of course you don’t bathe. It’s easy to find a spot where you’re not touching anything other than the pillows. But how does one get away from one’s own mental projections? As I’ve said before, the first thing to not do is mind your own thoughts. Don’t mind your mind. Remember, the same mind that got us into trouble can get us out. The mind is a trickster, a monkey. It will first distract you from your mantra and then make you feel bad for being distracted. Allow your thoughts to come and go freely. Decide beforehand that you won’t feel bad about them. Because I promise that you will be distracted again and again. So each time you realize you’ve been thinking or listening to a noise or feeling pain, pleasure or a strong emotion of some sort, just go back to your mantra without any sense of self-recrimination. There’s no need to beat yourself up over this. You can even get right into thinking, about your day, your life. You can get into thinking about life itself, pure, free and forever. Just keep returning to your mantra, again and again.

It is important to understand that whatever one perceives and experiences in meditation, just as in ones day-to-day life, is transitory and changing. Whatever one thinks, hears, whatever pain, pleasure or strong emotion one experiences will have a beginning and an end. So, when you meditate it is useful to put your attention on the watcher rather than what is being watched. The same uninvolved observer who was watching as a young boy or girl is the same one who is watching now. As your body has grown and as you’ve gained more and more skills, qualifications and life experiences, that watcher has never changed. That one has been watching all the changes and is watching still, unchanged, uninvolved. That uninvolved observer has always and will always be fine throughout the life and even after. Think about that.

In spite of what I wrote earlier, I am going to suggest two more techniques. Because I feel sure that the people reading this dissertation, like the people I keep meeting, and especially now with the right understanding, are brilliant enough to decide which is best suited to them and how to use the information offered here.

The first of these two techniques is called Anapana, with a soft ‘a.’ It is a technique of concentrating on the breath. Anapana is referred to as the maha mantra, the ultimate mantra. The reason is that it’s the least tangible, the subtlest point one can attend. There’s virtually no form to watch, no form to hold on to with your mind. However, the ancient sages have said that it’s a bridge between the part of us that’s transitory and the part that’s eternal. I have often suggested it can also be combined with mantr.

The million-dollar question is this: Can you allow the inhalation and exhalation to happen on its own without asserting yourself? Can you stop doing anything and just observe your own breath? While sitting, slouching or lying down, or while waiting to be wheeled in for your gall-bladder operation, put your attention on the nose-nostrils-upper lip area and watch the breath. Don’t follow your breath in or out. Watch the inhalation, the exhalation and the spaces between. And, again, as often as your attention is deflected into your thoughts, the noises around you or the pain in your tummy, that many times you have to go back to your chosen point of attention. And don’t bother being bothered by being bothered by being distracted.

You may not think you’re having a very peaceful meditation. As I’ve already pointed out, you may think you’re wasting your time. Just keep in mind that rooftop in Peshawar and give peace a chance. There is no such thing as a bad meditation. You may doubt that you can do it. You may doubt that you should do it. I suggest that you be patient and give yourself time. In one of my recent sessions, a lady said that she really didn’t understand what she was doing while meditating. That was a valid point. It was a valid point because she was not doing anything. We’re not used to stopping. We’re not used to letting go. It’s much simpler to run around the block for a half hour than to stop all our activities for the same time period. It’s the most worthy and yet the most difficult of all activities. In fact, it’s too simple. And don’t get stuck on the technique. You can just watch the space, so to speak. You are the teacher. You are the path.

Which brings me to my third suggestion, my last technique. This simple technique is close to my heart. In fact, it's close to everyones heart. Here's how this one goes:

Just think about a person you have loved with all your heart. Dwell upon that person, or even that pet, you have been most enamored of, most attached to, the being whose presence you have most treasured. Even if he, she or it is physically no longer in your life, even if the memory causes you pain, don't turn your thoughts away. The pain is because there was that much love, that much oneness and I assure you the pain and pleasure are not two different realities.

After a few moments, let go of that person or being and put your attention on the feelings, follow those feelings to their source deep within you. Because those feelings existed long before the object of your love came in front of your eyes and other senses. Those feelings and that heart-space have always been there. Eventually, you can envision a pond that, when a pebble is tossed into it, causes ripples to spread out from the center. Let those waves, the vibrations, spread throughout your body and flood your system with all that goodness. Envision that life-sustaining healing power spread throughout your body and even beyond. But, mostly, dwell on that place, space, center, the force, the source of love.

One of the first things you’re likely to notice is that the quality of your thoughts will change. You probably won’t feel like hollering at your wife or husband so much anymore, tying a tin can to the tail of your neighbor’s cat, back-ending the guy who just cut you off. You may feel uncharacteristically charitable. When that happens, and it will, you may think something is wrong. Of course, if the new thought processes seem strangely soothing, continue. It won’t be long before you’ll get the feeling you’re looking for. When one is sitting, continuously placing ones attention on or identifying with the watcher, one is essentially developing equanimity. Each time one says ‘pain’ rather than ‘my pain,’ or ‘pleasure’ instead of ‘my pleasure,’ one is essentially stepping back from the ever-changing phenomenon just a tiny bit. In that way a person will observe again and again how all of ones sensory perceptions, whether pleasant or unpleasant, change. But a person will also observe again and again how the observer, the watcher, seems to remain ever the same. In that way, one is travelling in the right direction and eventually, aside from any deeper effect, an ability to pause before reacting to whatever is going on around you is necessarily developed. And that ability to take a moment, even a split moment, to act creatively rather than react blindly, is incredibly valuable.

When a person throws an insult in your direction, for example, and you catch it as though it’s a bouquet of roses, the insult loses all its power. It would be tempting to underestimate the technique I’ve suggested. But before discarding the practice out of hand to return to your Scrabble game, you may find it interesting to dwell on the fact that there are thousands of people around the world who have dedicated their whole lives to doing nothing else. Of course, then you’ll have to figure out if they’re all misguided idiots or folks who have actually discovered a way to answer first-hand those insidious questions that linger in our minds from early childhood. While everyone is striving for name, fame and fabulous wealth during this lifetime, people tend to lose sight of one very important fact. In a hundred years or so, nobody you know now will be alive. And nobody who is alive will really care who you were.

There are certain things that don’t go well with meditation. Smoking cigarettes, smoking dope and drinking copious amounts of alcohol tend to be counterproductive. Heroin, crack and meth are not recommended. It’s a matter of going from the grosser to the subtler. And in that regard I would also take the chance to suggest eating less meat, especially red meat, and consuming more fruits and vegetables. People who are completely into eating animals on a regular basis might not appreciate my writing that. But, I think it’s really very important that I do. I only hope you don’t come after me with a meat cleaver muttering something about it being all fine if you use the right spices. In fact, as i've said, nobody need necessarily 'cut' out any pleasures whatsoever. Just add one more thing to your life. Meditation will help everyone.

And while I’m offending people’s sensibilities I may as well mention my belief in the importance of continence. I’m not referring to the obvious advantages of curing oneself of adult bed-wetting. After all, there are effective plastic sheets on the market these days, or so I’ve been told. Certainly, I’d have to be insane to suggest cutting down on sexual activity, it being the way we tend to judge how wonderful we are. So I won’t go there at all. This sensitive area of the ancient science of the sages is esoteric and I therefore will not explain it. It’s secret. My lips are sealed. I’m only lightly, gingerly alluding to the possibility of a certain conservation of energy. I will write all about it openly in my upcoming book, ‘Not Hung Like My Dad.’

When I returned to Canada in 1998, I was quite amazed to find out how many people had attained miraculous powers rather, well, miraculously. It still seems to me that every second person has the ability to heal merely with a touch. Many don’t even need to touch you. They can do it over the phone. There are a plethora of channelers, people able to communicate with angels, crystal bowl healers, psychics, clairvoyants, palm readers, garden variety fortune tellers, intuitives, aura readers, tea leaf readers... It seems that in the new-age everybody’s sister, mother and brother are powerful healers and teachers. And that’s just great. I would only mention that one might be well advised to keep ones attention on the goal.

Many years ago Alan Abel, who was with the Globe and Mail in Toronto at the time, came to visit the Shyam Hermitage in Kullu, India. During his interview with Swami Shyam, Alan asked if Swami-ji had any extra-normal powers. “Yes, I do,” Swamiji said. “I have the power to love everyone unconditionally.” I’m quite convinced that greatest of all powers can be only attained by the direct experience of the oneness of all life, the one life permeating all the forms, pure, free and forever.

There’s nothing to compel one to meditate or even make enquiries about it. However, if you’ve gotten this far, if you are impelled, you may as well read the rest of what I want to say. When one looks up at the night sky and sees all those stars, one has to wonder where it ends. And, for that matter, one has to wonder where it all begins. Intelligent people through the ages have continuously wondered where they came from and where they end up after the body dissolves. I haven’t a final answer to those questions, not from firsthand experience or knowledge. But, I do know that asking oneself those questions is certainly the beginning of a great journey. And my direct personal experience has left me quite convinced that there is a lot of truth in what the wise ones have always said about our source and our destination.

There is more to life than what meets the eye. There’s more to me than this body and mind. This is a fact that I know through personal, direct experience. It has also become extremely obvious to me that, in spite of the many differences, we all breathe the same air, that our hearts all pulsate with the same love of life, and that we all desire freedom.

Namaste.



Sunday, May 18, 2014

Banking.


You Can Bank On It

During the more than two decades I spent in India, the banking system progressed from trading cows and hiding currency under false floorboards to actual banks. During my last several years there, in fact, I placed what money I had in the Bank of Patiala. One had to enter the bank by stepping over a chain left, for some unknown reason, always across the front doorway. A very small man with a very large rifle sat just inside. The rifle was an ancient, double-barrelled affair slung proudly over his shoulder. A sign, hanging above the counter, read; ‘Pleas Cont Yor Monys Befor Leving.’ There were no computers and simple withdrawals or deposits could take the better part of a morning.

The day I was leaving for Canada, I asked to withdraw most of my funds, which amounted to some fifty thousand rupees, just under two thousand dollars Canadian. That may not sound like a king’s ransom, but a normal withdrawal would consist of one or two less zeros made by a simple hill-person in town to purchase sugar for a special occasion or get a tooth pulled following a special occasion.
After some discussion amongst themselves, the teller came back to the counter. "That will not be possible sir. Very sorry," he said wagging his head from side to side smiling. Obviously, returning two days later was out of the question and so, after some further negotiations, we agreed I could indeed have my money, though in bundles of fives and tens. The fellow with the rifle was sent to the market for bags.

Back in Canada, circa 1998, I discovered that banking had progressed without waiting for me. In my quest for respectability I acquired all the right cards and made all the right moves. However, when I went to the office in Hull to pick up a license plate for my new really old car, I faced a huge dilemma. In order to finally grab the plate, sitting on the counter like the Holy Grail itself, I had to pay $275.00, cash. I had handed the severe-looking lady my Visa card as I swelled with pride. But, she wouldn’t accept it. I offered her a debit card. She refused. I didn’t have a cheque or enough cash so she, with a show of tremendous forbearance, looking like wanting nothing more than to kick the family dog, suggested I go use the cash machine in the next building and come back. I had never used a cash machine. I knew I would eventually. I just wanted to wait for the right moment, and that wasn't it. With people waiting at the license office and several looking over my shoulder at the cash machine, that was most certainly not the right time.


There seemed to be a few slots, and I kept trying to stick the card in each of them. The lighting was poor and I was under no small pressure. I tried pushing the card into one or another aperture until I finally realised two of the slots were just lines. Of course I looked mentally challenged as I tried to force my card into any mark that might’ve been the right place. I turned the card up and down and around, no doubt looking even more 'special' until the beast finally grabbed the thing.


With the card mercifully deposited in its proper receptacle, I next had to read the simple instructions. People came and went from the next machine while behind me the folks either giggled or groaned as they crowded in. My machine asked if I wanted FRENCH or english. The arrow seemed to point between the buttons. I thought I pressed for english, but got FRENCH, had to start again. More giggles. More groans. I knew my secret code, but made a couple more mistakes before figuring the whole thing out. I punched in my desired amount, $275.00 including the decimal point, waited, waited, got my card back, waited and then got rejected. No one likes rejection. I tried everything again and I was rejected again. A voice from the now raucous crowd behind called out in a sarcastic tone, "It’s gotta be in multiples of twenty." I thanked the man without turning around, consoled by the thought that I’d probably never see any of them again, finally got the money and positively slithered out.

As I re-entered the license office, people were looking downright nasty. The lady behind the counter had her head in her hands and I felt sorry for her puppy. I paid my money, grabbed the plates and drove off into a new world.

Freedom's Star.


Freedom’s Star and Loves Rain.
(editor's note: male gender is used for 'god' only for the sake of flow. i have no idea what gender god is. in fact, i have barely an idea of what god is. thanks for your understanding.)

only along these hallowed hallways
of forms imagined in absence of candlelight
can god recall with all relief
the brilliance of his own
and be ever after the benefactor of more bounty
than the most fierce pirate could have ever known
to roam with freedoms star at his back
amidst a celebration of fears flight
only within this structure
narrow and changing
along illusions foyer of time and space
can he watch himself lose its confines to reflect
upon being ever the recipient of more richness
than the shrewdest entrepreneur could’ve ever hoped to collect
to drift aimfully with loves driving rain at his chest
towards an awesome and humbling grace
only along these stairways of creativity
designed for joy and sorrows conclusion
can the very lord of the estate
enjoy the climbing
to look out upon garden and stream
a panoramic vision to the corners of a kingdom
more grand and expansive
than the greatest conquerors unfulfilled dream
to gaze forever undisturbed
with freedoms star and loves rain as his comrades against delusion
to walk forever undisturbed
with freedoms sparkling star and loves driving rain
as company in his eternal seclusion.
 
 

Friday, May 9, 2014

a brief moment in time.

at the bottom of this page i've posted a couple of pics of an ice-berg floating majestically off the coast of newfoundland, along with a few other photos i like. the iceberg pics were taken by a friend who was excited to see it up close and personal. she and her partner ran to the coast near their home when they heard it was heading there.

interestingly, i had only just been reading an article about how melting ice in the polar oceans is causing sea levels to rise world-wide. apparently, if the trend continues, there will be serious climactic ramifications and it will not be pretty. that iceberg presented itself just near st. john's the other day for all to see its glory, or perhaps as a warning that the end is near. but, let's face facts. many many people believed the human race would be done like dinner long before now: the atomic bomb was supposed to have done the job quite a while ago. acid rain was supposed to have washed us away. the mayans predicted our demise. i know a guy who continues to warn people going into the macdonalds on rideau street that the end is near, which may actually be more likely for those folks. well, it hasn't happened yet. but, there are always possible catastrophic events that can annihilate the human race. we are bombarded by dangers, warnings. there is no dearth of things to fear. it's no wonder more and more people are touring the diefenbunker for decor ideas and buying up cans of creamed corn in bulk.

since i put that article aside, and having viewed the beautiful photos, i wandered down to the water's edge to watch a sun-rise. glorious shards of light shot up over the low trees in the distance. reflected illusory silver flakes spread across the surface of the lake as i spotted a sea otter beside a neighboring dock. it dove in and resurfaced hardly a few feet away. showing off an easy breast-stroke-like movement, it glided back and forth slowly right in front as i made appreciative, affectionate clicking noises. eventually, it dove under the water and i didn't see it again. i watched for a long time, scanned the surface for any sign of it until, finally, i started back up to my house for a cup of coffee.

the article, on the 'science daily' website, was still on my ipad's browser. i was amazed to read, while sipping my drink, that there are scientists who have even gauged the likelihood of the different ways we may get wiped out. i can only imagine what dinner conversations must be like at their homes. apparently, we have a one in a million chance of being offed, for example, by an asteroid impact. there is a whopping five percent probability of extinction anytime before 2100 at the hands of molecular weaponry, a two percent chance by an engineered pandemic, a one percent possibility by a natural pandemic and then, of course, there's the old favorite bugaboo: nuclear war. we actually don't even need a war. there is a chance nuclear terrorism will send human-kind the way of the proverbial dodo bird.

that was enough light reading for one day. as early morning evolved into a full-fledged day, i set about raking some of the leaves lying in the yard. long strokes stripped away layers to reveal grass i hadn't seen for months. it was warm enough to slip out of my clogs, to feel the start of new life. some birds fluttered in and out of the car-port, building a nest for a family that was sure to come. a couple of neighbors drove by, carefully bumping through ruts in the road in front of my house. with the spring-time sun leading the way, i walked down to the post-boxes, smiling to myself as i recalled when i recently discovered a bump on the side of my head. it really freaked me out. for a brief moment in time i was convinced the lump was a brain tumor, but it turned out to be a spider bite.

a majestic iceberg existed for a brief moment in time as a separate form. it's melting off the coast of st. john's, merging with the ocean water it always was. perhaps it's not there just for everyone to see its glory or as a warning, but rather as a simple reminder that there is one life, one ocean of life, permeating all. 

Thursday, May 1, 2014

waiting to exhale.

waiting to exhale.

since returning from india, i haven't been sleeping so well at night. i don't mean since i returned from my most recent trip to india a week ago. i mean since returning in 1998. actually, i hardly remember ever sleeping well at night. i sometimes sleep well in the evenings and/or early mornings. i never know what to say when someone asks if i feel jet-lagged. i feel as though i've been jet-lagged for years.
however, there's always one thing beautiful waiting to do, always available and that always fills me with a sense of wonder. there's one simple thing i can do when i can't sleep, in a waiting room even or on a long flight, that i love and that gives so much more to me than sleep.

the fact is, sleeping at night tires me out. it's often fitful, like i'm losing an argument with myself. it just seems like the whole collective consciousness at that time is heavy. does that make sense? i may have a nightmarish nightmare in the middle of the night. i feel like a vice-grip has gripped my head in the middle of the night. i wake up disoriented, unable to orient, thinking i'm somewhere other than where i am, or not. my teeth grind, my stomachs churn. suffice it to say it's not your perfect 'sleep-country' experience. i've just learned to roll onto my bed, or sofa, or lazy-boy in the evening for a snooze, if possible, wake up around midnight, spend most of the night awake, then go belly-up again for a while in the morning.

of course that begs the question: what do i do at night(?) well, you're reading one thing i do at night. otherwise, i sometimes go for walks. years ago, in india, i could skip along the mountain paths without even a flash-light on a moon-less night. i knew those hills that well. now, of course, there are stone walls and iron fences everywhere, unless one climbs up higher and higher. the road was totally peaceful in those days and at least quieter than usual now at that time, although no longer very pretty. but, there's one simple thing better than that.

in wakefield, when i lived in the village itself, i simply walked around the block once or twice. i recall the first time the police stopped to check me out. they asked the usual questions: where do i live, why am i out at that hour, how do i feel about police harassment, stuff like that. they seemed awfully suspicious, looked at me so strangely as i smiled most cordially into the open window of their cruiser. only afterward did i realize i had forgotten to put my teeth in, a plate that fills an important gap where two bottom tusks used to proudly stand. my hair was disheveled. i wore indian pyjamas. i guess i did look a bit suspicious at 2:30 a.m., maybe even a bit scary. still, there's one thing better than wandering.

i was once positively bowled over by a couple of bucks right on legion road in the dead of night. i used to come across raccoons, had to watch out for skunks. strangely, where i live now, out near lac gauvreau, i never see so much as a shrew on my nocturnal wanderings. but it sure is beautiful, on a clear, bright night when the moon is high up throwing its light onto a shimmering lake. or on a clear dark night when the stars fill your eyes and make it hard to turn away. yet, there's something even better than that.

there's one beautiful thing waiting for you to do, perpetually available, that will fill you with a sense of wonder. there's always that one thing waiting for you to do when you can't do anything else. when you can't sleep, languishing in a waiting room or on a long flight, there's one simple thing you'll learn to love and that will give so much more than sleep.

in this day of strict scheduling, people worry about not getting enough sleep. when i was working in ottawa, i'd leave wakefield at about 7:00 and not stop until back home twelve hours later. i recall one winter's day being so tired during a lunch-break that i lay down on a bench in the nearby clarica building. the next i remember i was being shaken by a security guard. he demanded that i get up, that i wasn't allowed to lie down, that it didn't look good. i was indignant. "do i look like a miscreant?," i barked. "i'm wearing a tie and jacket. do i even seem like a homeless person to you?" he insisted that it didn't matter and that i had to get up. so i got up, put my pants back on and left the building in a huff. ok, of course i'm kidding about the pants. but, there was something better than that.

no matter where you're at in your life, you're gonna need a little help, something to do when all else fails, something to be there for you. you're gonna need something to help when you have an important meeting in the morning and unable to sleep. much more to the point, you're gonna need something miraculous to hold onto when your plane is going down or facing open-heart surgery. you're simply gonna need to breathe. it's time to take a breath.

you can always grab hold of one exhalation, one inhalation, a breath or two or three. it's not a breathing exercise. tuning into your breath just as it is, going in and out the nostrils, on its own, can become the very best thing to do. it's always there, always gonna be there, pure, free and forever. your breath gives energy, it's the very life. it stands to reason that the closer you become with your breath the more energy and life you will gain. the connection can grow. as you lose yourself within that most valuable of things to do, something so beautiful, powerful, life-sustaining will be found, by simply watching the breath. who'd a thought(?)