Good morning

Morning. The world is still asleep. Silence. Its almost tangible. It lays over my ears like an amplifier. Every creak, every squirrel chitter, every bird twitter, is audible, even from inside.

It is moist outside. The air caresses my skin, masking my face in cool mist. So refreshing and invigorating. I'm years away from getting wrinkles in a climate like this.

Green. So many shades of green. The guest from England said we have more shades of green here even than in the British Isles. The daffodils and tulips are blooming. The bamboo is dangling diamond droplets from its leaves. The primroses are showing their colours, and my winter daphne is still blooming, sharing its scent with the breeze.

Coffee. Micro-roasted, the 'Fat Albert' blend. The scent is amazing, the taste as amazing as the scent, its flavour moderated with a dollop of heavy cream. Real cream.

Life. "Every day you wake up and then there's a new day," says a very dear friend. Ambivalence. Striving to enjoy the sensual immediacy of the moment--of every moment--even with the concerns of the day pressing, pressing, always pressing.

Deep breath. Scanning my body. Holding tension in my shoulders, my abdomen, my low back. Exhaling. Shoulders drop, hips shift. Better.

Altar. Lighting incense. Sitting zazen. A nod to Buddha, so sanguine and magnanimous. Om. A timeless moment of blankness, of purity. Better. Much better.

Good morning, world.

Meditation on Choice as Creation

And the hyacinth purple, and white, and blue,
Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew
Of music so delicate, soft, and intense,
It was felt like an odour within the sense.
- Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Sensitive Plant (pt. I)

Spring in February! The winter daphne and primroses are in bloom. The bulbs are coming up! I've pots and pots of bulbs in front and back, and the ones in the flowerbed outside my bedroom window are blooming, seeing as they get plenty of morning light: crocus, japanese iris, hyacinth, tulips, primroses. Just outside my door the hyacinths are beginning to bloom, and their bold flowery scent is like a shaft of sunlight touching my soul.

The air, ah, how to describe the air? It is cool and heavy with mist that collected on my eyelashes as I walked along the river at 7 o'clock this morning. It smells of green and growing things, of leaf mold and humus and sweetness. As I walked through the forest I could hear the birds twittering, making their mating and territory calls: "Pick me, baby!"and "This is my tree, find your own!" I strolled over to the community garden. Some people were already there working the soil, preparing it for the next round of flowers, fruits, vegetables, and herbs, tending the bulbs coming up. My toes got wet and chilled in my Tevas, but I did not mind. It sure beats cold and sweaty in snow boots.

There is a shelter overlooking the river. It is a concrete pad with a roof, open on all four sides, with a picnic table in the center. I sat cross-legged on the table, pulled my jacket tighter about me, and focussed my awareness on my breath and body. My nose was cold. My ass was chilled from the table top. My nipples were hard. My Tevas were cutting into my thighs, just above my knees. The breeze was moving a lock of hair on my forehead, tickling the skin. My breath was rhythmic, lulling. I could feel my shirt brushing against my sternum as I breathed. Slower, deeper inhalation. I could feel the breath touching the cradle of my hips, stirring the source of sexual energy. Memory-echo of last night's expansive orgasm. Exhaling it.

The discomforts faded as my awareness shifted. I cast it outward, let myself become a sensory net, let the environmental sensations fill me, center me in a state of mindfulness. Here I am. I know my place in the world. I fill it, and it fills me. I am alone and yet not. I am one with everything I sense. And then the pure awareness, unthinking consciousness, just being. Suspended for a long moment of samadhi bliss. For how long, I do not know. A minute? Twenty minutes? Forever? I cannot express that timelessness in words.

I eased from that state and focussed my mind on the affirmation I had chosen for myself:

My experiences are the consequences of my choices.
Choosing is an act of Creation.
The most important choices I make involve how I see myself, Reality, and my relationship to Reality.
As a conscious act of Creation, I choose to see my life as meaningful and my self as a compassionate, powerful, sensual, and creative spirit.
Let the consequences continue!

As I walked back home, I repeated these phrases to myself, reminding myself of my own powers of creation and my responsibility for the consequences to myself and others. It is an amazing thing, that sense of awareness and empowerment, and the desire to share it with the world. If only everyone could feel this way. I am grateful that the gentle glow of it will remain with me for much of the day.

Free-spirit

"It is easy for you to say, you were raised to be a free-spirit," said a friend I've made this past year. He had asked my thoughts on the imminent 'big step' he and his girlfriend of 18 months were about to embark upon: moving in together. The last girlfriend he lived with drove him nuts in short order and he was reluctant to put himself into the same position again. I told him I could understand that all too well, but at the same time, that I considered the practice of using past experience to predict relationship outcomes to be a form of self-fulfilling prophecy. I told him to take the reasonable precautions and then relax and be open to the possibilities in this relationship, which has nothing to do with the old one, unless he makes it so. His comment about it being easy for me to say made me smile. The road to this place has been far from easy, as my closest friends will attest.


For all that I grew up around a bunch of carefree hedonists, there was little stability, consistency, or parenting. In one form or another I raised myself, four sisters, and three parents. My parents were young, self-absorbed, and oblivious to the danger they put their daughters in. I learned first-hand what could happen, and spent my teen years vigilantly trying to protect my siblings from predators. I developed stress-responses and habits, expectations and fears, that stood me in good stead for survival, but handicapped me when I attempted to join the mainstream, to attempt to seem 'normal', to develop and sustain romantic relationships. When I was 18 I returned from a few months in Europe and developed an inexplicable aversion to strangers and unfamiliar places that grew until I was afraid to leave my home. The world of possibilities was terribly large, and my experience of it quite dark in ways. I wanted to try to make sure that whatever I did, whoever I met, created only positive outcomes. I was young and foolish, and terribly controlling. Eventually, I overcame the fear of people, but the fear of the unknown, unknowable, and uncertain became the core of my existence. I did not feel afraid--I was afraid. I did my best to cope, and I grew in and changed in spurts and often lost as much ground as I gained. But I kept working at it, trying to learn what I needed to do to reach for the next rung on the ladder. Striving to become more fully alive and aware, more fully me. All the while keeping in mind that as difficult and slow a process as it seems, even plants can climb ladders.


Just three years ago I was in a miserable relationship that should have ended years earlier but did not, for reasons I cannot recall. We rarely had sex, argued often, had different wants, needs, desires. But we loved each other, and it seemed we thought that was enough. I suppose we preferred being miserable together to being miserable alone. Admittedly, it was a difficult time for me--four people I loved died in as many years and I think I could not face any more loss. When that relationship ended I went into therapy, determined to learn new coping mechanisms and break old patterns, determined to address the issues and complaints my partners had given voice to over the years. And in the therapy- process I chose meditation instead of medication, and did the hard internal work, and read and explored and conversed and contemplated and slowly came to the realization that nearly everything I need I already have within me, and that fear of loss, of death and uncertainty and the 'other', is natural. But rather than deny those fears, rather than sublimate or ridicule them, I realized that it was best to recognize fear for what it was, and allow myself to feel it--let it fill me and flow out of me and let another emotion fill me--love, hope, joy. One day I realized that while I will never be rid of fear, I do not have to be ruled by it.


And I have to remind myself of this daily. I no longer tell myself not to be afraid, or to stop being silly. I remind myself that it is ok to feel afraid. I tell myself that it is ok to feel afraid, but it is not ok to use fear as an excuse not to live every day as fully as I can, to use it as an excuse to avoid embracing the fullness of life. It is not easy. I am flattered that, for all I feel that I am struggling and flailing around, I am somehow managing to meet the challenges of life with enough grace that others think it comes easily to me. But at the same time, I admit that it is coming easier to me--more and more I find myself practicing acceptance and facing each moment with equanimity and spontaneity. They are coming more easily. And perhaps one day I really will be a free-spirit. Who knows? For now I'll savor feeling free-spirited every moment that I can.

Yum

I made it through the entire week at work. I was exhausted by Wednesday but I pushed through it. I had too much work to do. So much in fact, that I am going into the office this morning. The bronchitis is getting better but I am still using an inhaler. I used to think that, as a result of meditation, I was very aware of my breath. But I can say that there is nothing quite like feeling like I'm not getting enough air to make me acutely aware of breathing, and just how integral it is to my well-being. Without enough oxygen I tire easily. I've lower energy. I sleep a lot more. I think I've the barest inkling of what my mother went through with emphysema. I am so glad that I do not smoke.

In resuming my social life, I attended my first LoveTribe gathering since October, a Yum. When I got home from work I took a shower and put on some jammies and headed over to the studio. The opening exercises were just finishing and I had the opportunity to squeeze into the circle and introduce myself before formalities were dismissed. There were a lot of new faces and some missing ones. The regular Tribers greeted me and and asked where I had been. I briefly outlined my profession and why I drop off the social radar for 2 or 3 months this time of year.

There is nothing like walking into a room with 20 to 50 people in it, all wearing comfy, snuggly clothing, all interested it genuine interaction and non-sexual intimacy. I gave a few massages, got a few. Joined a puppy pile with 5 other people and got some good snuggling and conversation in. Most of us tend to wear fabrics that are sensually pleasing to touch: flannel, silk, velour, etc--fabrics that make people go 'mmmm' when they touch it and reach out again. One of the women there always wears socks made out of an incredibly silky-soft material... something like a synthetic version of cashmere, I guess. Only this time she didn't wear them. I rubbed her feet anyway, though ;)

It was good to see so many men there. Men get the short end of the intimacy stick in our culture. They can't hug and kiss on each other like women can, or people think they are gay. They can't touch women even casually without people thinking they are making a sexual overture. In many cases, they are worried about being affectionate with children, lest someone think they are pedophiles. In fact, most men feel that the only way they can experience intimacy is with a partner. And with a partner it usually leads to sex. Which is all fine and good, but sometimes... sometimes even men just want to experience closeness and playfulness without the sexual element/expectation hanging over their heads. So it is good to see men at LoveTribe gatherings, availing themselves of the opportunity to enjoy intimacy and sensual touch in an environment in which everyone is there to experience the same thing, and in which everyone understands the rules and follows them.

I left about midnight, feeling wonderful. Satisfied. Content. YUM.

Just your average blog entry

Last week a nasty cold fell on me like an avalanche, wiping out my voice, and filling my lungs. I left work at noon on Wednesday and it wasn't until Sunday that I could get out of bed without feeling dizzy. So I stayed in bed. A dozen long-stemmed roses in a gorgeous salmon-pink colour arrived to grace my room on Thursday, a bit of beauty to raise my spirits. This afternoon, more flowers, this time at work (a big no-no): an arrangement of orchids and interesting greenery. The card read "Stubborn wench--at work when you should be at home, in bed..." I added the parenthetical "with me" that he left off of the message, probably to save the florist embarrassment.

A cold front hit the Pacific Northwest at the same time. It was interesting to look at little drifts of sun-sheltered snow on vivid green grass. Such a contrast. The culms of the black bamboo seem so dark right now, the leaves sparser and less vivid. The holly trees are full of berries this year. Big red berries that show up so well against the spiky, waxy leaves. I really need to get out and take some photos. I've been wanting to for days, but I dared not go out in below-freezing weather, not with my lungs so full of crap. Perhaps this week.

I finished a naughty story yesterday, the seeds of which started months ago but which I just didn't have time to do right. I wanted to do a D/s story, but I wanted to get the nuances right, the psychology, the dialogue, the scenario. I'm fairly pleased with it, though I know some people think I will have ended it prematurely. I just don't feel it necessary to spell out what any reader knows is going to happen. That is the thing about erotica. You know the ending before you even start reading :) I doubt I'll record this one, there is too much male dialogue.

Plans for next month are shaping up. An upcoming seminar in San Fransisco just before my birthday prompted me to take some extra vacation time to spend with loved ones in the area. It should be a very full 10 days. Hopefully the weather will be conducive to photography. I may even bring my tripod.

The intensity level seems to be ratcheting up in some of my relationships. I don't know if it is a function of my stress-level or my customary availability during this period in my work. But I am being asked on several fronts when I'm going find a less demanding job, when I'm going to settle down, narrow down the list of people I'm dating, etc. I've got some great people in my life, people I enjoy so much and enjoy dating casually, no intimacy pressure or awkwardness, a fair number of whom are 'poly' people. And then the two most intense, rewarding, and frustrating relationships are with men who are monogamous, love me, 'wouldn't ask me to be exclusive' and yet aren't happy. I've offered to end the relationships. I've offered to eliminate physical intimacy and focus on what is important: relating. But that is not what they want. No, they want me available and all to themselves. And I'm floored. They are both good-looking, personable, financially-stable professionals that just about any single woman between the ages of 25 and 40 would gladly date. So why do they want me? Or why don't I want to pick one and settle down? Oddly enough, this is not good for my ego. And its definitely not good for my peace of mind.

There is so much love in me. I think learning metta meditation, learning to project that love out into the world, has helped to diminish some of that compelling intensity I bring to my deeper relationships. But not enough, I think, for one person to bear the force of it, of what they both seem to covet for themselves--my uniqueness. I am of the mind, however, to give one of them what he thinks he wants. And see how quickly he changes his mind. I don't think either of them is capable of valuing what being in a monogamous relationship with me really means. All of my intensity, my libido, my intellect, my spontaneity, my intuition, my emotions--everything I've honed in the past 2 years I've been single gathered up and devoted to one person, focused on one person? Heh. They would be intimidated.

They both deny it, but they would. I don't know why, but even when I try to be open and warm, I intimidate some people. Daily, prolonged exposure to me seems to make my partners feel insecure or overwhelmed or whatever. I am whole unto myself, self-contained and self-reliant. I don't need any one person. And men need to be needed. They need to feel they have a purpose in a woman's life, a reason to be: protector, friend, lover, provider. But no one person can be all things to another. Its a fallacy that monogamists the world-over have bought into and try to brainwash and socialize others into believing--that you're not whole until you find your other half. And two men I love think that their individual self-interest is jeopardized by the presence of other loved-ones in my life. They don't realize that it is not the others they have to worry about competing with for me. Its me.

2006: The year of love and friendship

In the past year, especially, I've learned the value of open and honest communication, and more, of putting myself out there emotionally and being vulnerable. My awareness of the world and my inner life has deepened with both therapy and my meditation practice. I've had some insights and put into effect some changes in my life and I've found that my ability to relate with others has increased dramatically. Yes, in putting myself out there, I risk emotional pain, but life is as transient and uncertain as it is beautiful , and I've realized that if I'm unwilling to embrace the possibility of negative consequences, I'm not really living my life--I'm playing it safe.

These flowers are from a friend I've made this year. A wonderful man of intelligence, wisdom, and kindness whom I never would have met if it was not for the changes I've made in my life this year--of my choice to take risks, to be spontaneous, to follow my intuitions.

A retrospective of 2006:
I am, mostly, well. 2006 was a tough year--My sister spent January through September in and out of the hospital and I did a lot of travelling back and forth to Massachusetts. She seems to have stabilized, but the medical estabilishment says it will be another year before they know what the lasting effects of the illness will be, and if she will require convalescent care for the rest of her life. We did not think she would make it to her 37th birthday, but she is a stubborn wench and surprised us all. Work has been awful--so short-staffed that I was asked to stay on even after I offered to resign because I was having to leave for MA for weeks on end and at a moment's notice.

And yet, for all that, it has been a great year, too. I've been dating some amazing men, completed two years of counselling/therapy, seen friends and family, and done a fair bit of travelling. I am participating in an ecstatic dance group, have been exploring tantra and intimacy, and I've been developing my abilities as a writer and a photographer with the encouragement of professionals in both fields.

This year my friendships have deepened, and I've learned just how secure a support system I have. I've learned that I don't always have to be 'strong' and that it takes more courage to lean on others than it does to be the one others lean on. I've learned that I can feel fear without embodying it. As a consequence of my sister's illness, which was partly brought on by self-neglect, I've come to the realization that I need to learn to live in and with my body--to fully inhabit it--rather than driving it, or using it as a tool. The seat of my self-awareness and the source of my connection with reality are my flesh and my senses, and neglecting to care for my body means that there will likely come a day when it is unable to furnish my needs.

And so, while I am not the sort of person who participates in the New Year's Resolution ritual, I am committed to making 2007 the year I make peace with my body, learning to inhabit it fully, ceasing to use it as a shield between me and a world whose attentions I'd become so averse to.

I am off to the Coast for the weekend for a quiet retreat in a little 1920's cottage, where I can recuperate from 50 to 60 hour work weeks to the sound of wild surf and blustry winds. I expect to sit by the fire, read, watch movies, and enjoy the opportunity to write and photograph.

feeling like a sunflower with a head so heavy it faces the ground

Today I feel like a sunflower with a head so heavy it faces the ground.

I am bothered by my awareness that I have become a walking contradiction in the two years since I entered therapy. So much of my psyche is in disarray. I feel like I've been exhuming bodies and doing post-mortem examinations. I've got an RIP pile for re-burial and pile for cremation and another for revisitation at a later date when I can handle it. And then there are the graves I'm walking past, not even ready to start digging those things up. Is it really necessary? Espedcially now, when my plate is so full?

A conversation with A. at a recent snuggle made me think. He is a life coach and we talked a bit about my feelings that I've gotten all I can out of therapy, that I'm tired of searching the past, that I want to think more about moving forward, and addressing where I am 'blocked' as I do so. He said that is what life coaches do. They help you figure out what it is that you really want, and help you to get out of your own way.

On the surface, I seem so calm, even after my fifth half-hour-long nose bleed in 8 days. J and I have talked about this, about my concern about this serene facade. Only he says it is not a facade. He said my true self is centered and knowing, that it is what is pulling me toward resolving the past so I can truly live in the now. He tells me that the chaos and the flaring emotions are the surface, they are the facade, and that the serenity that I usually feel and that others often sense is my core-self. He gave me a little pep talk about not letting short-term setbacks distract me from my long-rage goals. And he reminded me to be compassionate with myself. He asked me to go to meditation at the Buddhist Priory tonite. I almost said yes, but I'm so tired tonite. So drained. Somewhat sad. And a little scared.

understanding and acceptance

I find myself trembling on the edge of a realization. It is similar to that realization I had several months ago about questions and answers. That some questions cannot be answered, and that the answers aren't important--its the noticing, the asking, that matters--and the ability to let the questions go. Release.

And I am there now with 'understanding' and 'acceptance'. I am realizing I do not have to understand. I realized this as a result of my anguish over not understanding the suffering of those I love. There are things I may never be able to understand, no matter how smart I am, no matter how hard I try, no matter how many questions I ask.

If there is only one thing I have to understand, it is that I must accept that there are things I may never understand.

It sounds so simple, but its a tough lesson for me. I expect I will continue to struggle with it, but I've gone back to my meditation on practicing acceptance, and hopefully this time it will stick. In the meantime, there is nothing I would like more right now than to snuggle up to someone I love and trust and bask in the joy of just being with them. Unfortunately, all desired candidates are either otherwise occupied... or too far away.

Fantabulous Weekend

I think this has been one of the best weekends of my life.

1-My sister is doing better. One might even go so far as to say that she is recovering, keeping in mind that a few good weeks does not a recovery make, not with an illness that cost her 10 months of her life and half her body mass.

2-CD has not only finished his manuscript, but will be handing it over to his editor in a week. Even better tho, are the poems and prose he is now free to write, brightening my days, like this:

Opposable Thumbs

Because of our opposable thumbs, we human beings have unique capabilities. Our muscled, contrary digits allow us to pull, twist, manipulate, and grip; to use tools, to control, even "civilize" our environment. There is, however, one essential human quality that does NOT respond well to this wondrous digital opposability...

Love.

Love is given; it is to be received with open hands, as if it was a gift of pure, clear, life-giving water, flowing into and over our cupped palms.

Love is not to be pulled, twisted, manipulated, leveraged, or squeezed. Love is not to be hijacked, hitchhiked, clamped, or hammered.

No.

Use your opposable thumbs on love, and its life-giving magic will disappear, as surely as water flows through a grasping hand.

3-I went to two birthday parties on Saturday. Yes, two!

J's was at a meditation center. I wish I could have spent more time there, because there were some amazing people there, and J needed some serious bodywork. Still, I got his low back relaxed enough that he stopped wincing every time he moved, and he gave me a peek at the library. Mmm... books. A good thing he doesn't know what a turn-on books in general and libraries in particular are for me :)

I had to leave J's party because B's was starting, and well, no offence to J, but who would want to miss a party involving a chocolate fountain, a basement lair draped in billowing fabrics, a wine cellar, a chocolate fountain, one man, 10 women, (did I mention a chocolate fountain) and a camera?

4-Sunday Sacred Dance Circle. Wow. The energy was amazing. I had gooseflesh the entire time I was there. Between that and the endorphine high from multiple orgasms, I was guaranteed a great day.

6-Snuggle Salon. I invited a different J to come along and he accepted. It was the smallest snuggle I've been to, maybe 10 people. Still, both the birthday boys were there, and there were only two other women besides myself, so I had a great time snuggling and being massaged. And I loved the five-person snuggle at the end of the night, sandwiched between the J I'd invited and J the birthday boy. YUM!

7-I got to talk to my other sister about all sorts of deep and personal things, and gave her the good news that I will be taking vacation in November afterall, so we're both really stoked. Its been a few years since my sisters and I were together last.

8-Oh! and I have pretty toes, courtesy of my lovely girl C, who loves me so much that she gave me a pedicure this weekend. French, with pretty nail art.

Its nearly 1am and I'm still high on life. I love my life. Life is good.

"A good day," a friend said to me. "Why are they so rare?"
"I don't know," I answered, "Somedays we dont know a good day when we are in one."

Sunday was a good day. So was Saturday. Here's to Monday.

Reminders

This has been the week of reminders. Reminders to live each moment fully. Reminders of why I decided to be more social--and why I had stopped. Reminders as to why I started therapy. Reminders that I do not own my fears--and they do not own me. Reminders that love is the most powerful force at my disposal. Reminders to be responsible. Reminders of who my friends really are. Reminders to let go of my need to control and manipulate reality instead of accepting and understanding that true freedom is simply experiencing life as it occurs, allowing myself to be truly spontaneous rather than habitual. I have been experiencing mini-moments of clarity, like the popping of ears signifying elevation changes. Something is up, I feel it, but I do not know what it is that is percolating in my intuitive subconcious--I only know that I am anxious about it, and that it, combined with an ear infection and inexplicable nosebleeds, has left me feeling weary. I am craving sanctuary with an intimate friend. C says come to him, and he will cuddle me--but I know where that will lead. And there will be no long period of peace, only moments suspended between interruptions. I would love a good long period snuggled up to B, but his social schedule is nearly as hectic as mine. I need nurturing, he said. And he was right. Nurturing, not sex... which is why I am at home in my own bed instead of C's. Weariness. Anxiousness. I tell myself there is nothing to be afraid of, and what does fear get me even if there is good reason? Readiness? Stress? I meditate, seeking the still mind, knowing insight and clarity will come if I can but calm the monkey brain long enough.
[audio entry]

Thoughts on order, chaos, and contemplative inquiry

I have a highly developed sense of order and symmetry. I have a very strong drive to systematize, to organize, to understand. At college, I was fully indoctrinated in the scientific method, spending 5 years hypothesizing, brainstorming, designing experiments, objectively observing, collecting and analyzing data, troubleshooting, proving or revising hypotheses. One might say that mine is a typically masculine mind.

And yet, I am also a 'feeler'. My senses are acute. My capacity for pleasure is boundless. I am conscious of things most people find beneath notice. Unless I am thinking deeply, I am aware, both physically and mentally, of every moment. My physical sensitivity to my environment, combined with a talent for systematizing, creates conflict and opportunity. I am (almost) always analyzing the output of my sensory array (the body), sifting, sorting, ranking, keeping the bewilderment of sensory bombardment at bay.

In my need to create order from chaos I am extremely aware that I use symbols (words) to describe my experience of life, and that the words I choose have nuances for others that are not present for me. The best example, I suppose, is that when I use 'sensual', people hear 'sexual'. And when I use words to describe my experiences, I am conscious that words are symbols ascribed to meanings, and that the world is so saturated with the meanings given to it that those meanings seem to reside in the things, people, and places themselves. I habitually assume that the world presented to me via my senses exists just as it appears to me. But that is preposterous, because what I sense is filtered through the unconscious mind. How I experience reality is coloured by the attitudes, conditioning, and habits of my emotional/psychological self long before it reaches the rational higher mind. In other words, the unconscious is tossing out the undesired variables so that the higher mind can do what it does best: create order out of chaos.

One of the benefits of meditation is that it brings me to the level of the unconscious, making me aware of all that 'white noise' it filters out for me. Breathing becomes something miraculous, really. I can feel my clothing touching my skin, my hair tickling my neck. I can hear the click of the freezer, the hum of the neighbor's TV, the sound of the river flowing by. The details of the moment flow one into the next and I am aware of the interconnectedness of things. My sense of myself deepens as well. I become conscious of my self-isolation, my insistence that I am this or that, my attachment to the idea of a fixed, 'core' self. As I breathe, as I 'listen' with all my senses to my body, to my environment, to my mind, it becomes oh so obvious that each moment is created out of the moment that preceeded it, and that I create myself in response to and interaction with my experiences, moment to moment. And it becomes oh so obivious that my responses are often conditioned by habit, by training, by the systems I have created, so that in my daily life, I am not really living today, I am experiencing a slight reconfiguration of the past.

Which is very comfortable and convenient, even predictable. It is much easier to think of conditions and consequences as 'things' with their own intrinsic (and manipulatable) identities, rather than as processes with no independent reality of their own. The reality is that no matter how much I want to make things singular, straightforward, absolute, and ordered, life is a matrix, a complex flow of interconnected processes. It is fractal, ambiguous, fluid, dynamic, imminent, transient, intertwined, unpredictable, and immediate. And I have choices as to how I respond to this reality. I can respond with fear, with the desire to create a mental map based upon past experiences that I can use as an overlay for present and future contingencies, thus shaping my perceived reality to suit an increasingly brittle, inflexible, habit-bound self which feels less and less comfortable with change.

Thus, the kind of 'order' that we humans create engenders tension. While it is natural to our ego, it is unnatural to our self. The ego is the 'I', the false-core, the part of us that denies change, denies unpredictability and impermanance. The ego clings to habitual behaviours and routines as a means to secure a sense of 'self', of wo we are, distinct from others; whereas the true self is comfortable developing the integrity of our identities aswirl in the transient, ambiguous, continually transforming world, knowing our selves as integral parts of a dynamic, inter-related whole, and thus free to create our reactions and ourselves moment to moment, letting reality teach us, instead of shaping our perceptions of it to fit inside our nice and tidy psychological boxes.

And the tension is more obvious to those of us who rise to challenge unconscious self-absorbtion with contemplative inquiry. We can continually question the assumption of the immutable 'I' at the core of our experiences. We can compassionately query ourselves about the validity of the emotionally charged notions we have of others. We can objectively observe our reactions to people and situations, examining the appropriateness of our responses to determine if we reacted to what actually occurred, or if we acted habitually, out of our preconceptions. And we can undermine the order of things with the responsive echos to these questions. Once we have gone to all the effort to put something in order, the last thing we want is for something to change. And so it is that even the seekers and the askers find themselves fighting against the habitual resistance to change.

In sum, order is not the enemy. The universe has its order. But neither is chaos something to be reviled. It is causal and creative; it provides opportunities for growth and spontanaeity that would otherwise be denied. There is always a tug between the two, between order and chaos, and tension in the minds of humans who want nothing more than to abolish the one in favor of the other.

Silence

Some are not comfortable with my silences, grown long as shadows in the afternoon.
They think there is something wrong, but that is not so.
It is my nature to observe, and to contemplate, and silence is natural to me as breathing.

It is possible to meditate in a crowd
to know onepointedness and nothing else
to walk slowly, feet bare in cool grass, and feel each blade bend underfoot
to converse with the dead, hear their voices and smell their scents
to re-experience a moment in time
to communicate non-verbally, feel that wordless flow between myself and another
to reflect upon the nature of consciousness and existence for a heartbeat or an hour.

Silence is timeless as the soul is limitless.
Some do not know this, and so it stretches for them like a rubberband, waiting to snap.

How not to help a friend who is depressed

I have a friend who is very dear to me. And he is going through a rough patch, and he is feeling down, and he has his good moments and his bad moments. I've tried knocking him out of his blues by attempting to awaken him to his senses, to the beauty of his surroundings. I've given him a book on meditation, The Calm Technique, a very clear, non-mystical book that makes mediative practice very accessible. I've sent cards, sent him puns via SMS, told him I love him and he is not alone. I don't know what else to do. I guess I don't understand depression--I don't really feel it, I suppose, because whenever I feel down, I just open myself to the beauty around me, and the cloud passes.

I suppose, where I am going with this, is that perhaps being a sensualist handicaps my abiltity to empathize with friends who are depressed.

I think I turned one of my friend's bad moments into a 'worse moment'. It makes me sad. I am feeling sorry for myself, my failure as a friend. I recognize it as a very selfish, self-absorbed thing, making this about me, instead of him. I should be feeling sad for him, and I am, but I am also feeling helpless, and that makes me a bit angry. I'm not very good at doing helpless... except in bed, and only if it is sexy ;)


[23:18] Amicus: I'm having a bad evening..I'd rather wait to discuss this when I'm in a better mood.
[23:19] Kayar: Which means it will never be discussed, which is quite alright. All you have to do is say you do not want to discuss it again, Amicus. That is what 'wait to discuss later', really means.
[23:19] Amicus: why can't you just take me at my word sometimes?
[23:21] Kayar: Because I have learned that you mean well, you have the best intentions, but you...you don't follow through with what you say you will do. Other things, other sexier or more pressing things, come up, and such things are buried.
[23:23] Kayar: Its ok, Amicus. Its not a bad thing, its how you are. And I love you just as you are.
[23:24] Kayar: You can pick this conversatoin up again, if you want to. But I have no expectations of that occurring. Ever.
[23:25] Amicus: Guess I should be glad you set your expectations so low
[23:25] Amicus: Especially after I specifically said today that I wanted to talk about things (or was it yesterday)
[23:25] Kayar: There is expectation, and there is acceptance. The former gets in the way of the latter.
[23:26] Kayar: You said you did. And then you didn't. And that is ok. *shrug*
[23:26] Kayar: When you really want to, you will.
[23:26] Amicus: umm, you were afk at the time I sent the messages ;)
[23:26] Amicus: and then I had to turn off my computer to deal with getting the computer done
[23:26] Kayar: And I am always just a phone call away. A promise I made, that if you called or messaged and really needed to talk, I would drop everything to be there for you.
[23:28] Amicus: I guess that's just it
[23:28] Amicus: I'm just completely trying to avoid it
[23:29] Kayar: I have no desire to influence you to do something you do not want.
[23:29] Kayar: I did it once, somehow, to our mutual regret.
[23:30] Kayar: Obviously, you need to talk to someone, and obviously, I am not that someone.
[23:30] Amicus: I knew I should have logged off when I said I was
[23:30] Amicus: Because this discussion is just getting me more and more frustrated
[23:31] Amicus: So goodnight.

Meditating

copyright retained by the photographer (KR)
For most people the word meditation conjures up visions of emaciated monks in scarlet and saffron robes sitting lotus on cushions, chanting amidst clouds of temple incense. To all appearances it is some obscure spiritual and otherworldly practice with no practical application in the Real World(tm). But this appearance is deceptive. While meditation is an integral part of many spiritual practices, it is also part of the daily routines of millions of regular (non-clerical) people. Meditation is a way to consistantly achieve a mental state that many of us experience in other ways. When I meditate, I recognize the state of 'just being' as the same I used to notice every once in a while when I'd be at the beach watching the waves, or sitting at the fireplace watching the flames, or when I was doing something rhythmic and physical, like cycling, mopping the floor, or scrubbing a pot. Meditation helps to tame the restless animal of the mind, not by being ruthless, but by gently prodding it back on track, guiding it back to the center, to stillness. It is a wonderful way to experience Calm.

There are of course, different types or schools of meditation. There is mantra and breath meditation, where you focus on breathing or on a word or phrase and clear the mind of everything else, seeking a state of calmness and no-thought. This was the type of meditation I learned when I was 19, at massage school. A friend of mine recommended vipassana meditation, he said it had been very useful to him in recovering from what we euphamistically call a 'nervous breakdown', and he still practices it today. So, I've been learning this 'mindfulness' or 'insight' meditation, which, hmm, rather than focussing on 'no-thought', focusses on bringing a non-judgemental, accepting attentiveness to our awareness of each moment, each thought, each sensory input. I find it a very useful practice when I am in therapy... it allows me to turn a more compassionate, less attached attention to my emotional responses, allows me to acknowledge them and let them go, rather than trying to bury or deny or struggle to find an appropriate way to express them as I had previously. Mindful meditation allows me to acknowlege my experience of both my internal and external realities and try to bring those experiences more in-line with each other, diffusing conflict and stress, relaxing me, helping me to maintain balance.

Eventually, I'd like to learn the 'walking meditation' aspect of vipassana, and from there, delve more deeply into metta (lovingkindnes) meditation. But I have enough on my plate. I have to remind myself, (gently, gently) that my inner dilettante has done a wonderful job of entertaining and distracting me all these years from the painful inner work I did not want to do, and guide myself back onto the path I have chosen for myself, the Path of Healing.

Meditation on self-confidence

There are days when I feel myself insignificant, in the shadow of others and events beyond my control, and on those days, hardship is daunting. I feel tempted to view my goals as being distant and unattainable, and go looking for consolation. But consolation is a trap. It enables me to feel good about myself without having to do much of anything. It leads to complacency and the comfort of routine, hoping that routine will enable me to ignore or escape anguish rather than understand and accept it. But can I afford the luxury of consolation and complacency in a world in which the only certainty is death, its time of arrival completely uncertain, and the consolation of an afterlife an unprovable hypothesis?

And then there are days when I feel superior to others, and on those days I am very disdainful of hardship, and yet perversely, tormented by humiliation when it defeats me. This leads to conceit. This makes me shun the friendship of those whose wisdom might help me spring the cyclical trap of loneliness and humiliation and anguish which my awareness of self engenders. This, again perversely, consoles the ego, which must be fed, and will get its attention however it can, whether positive or negative. It tells me I don't need others, that I have nothing to learn from them, that I am superior, and it draws energy from my resolve and my purpose, defeating me again and again.

There is a middle way, a balanced path that I try to tread despite the pendulum swings of daily life. The path in which I acknowledge that self-confidence is not a form of arrogance, but instead, a forn of trust in my abilities and my capacity to realize my goals, my purpose. It encompasses both the courage to face whatever life throws at me without losing equanimity, and the humility to treat every situation I encounter as one from which I can learn.

Meditation on purpose

This morning I woke up at 6:00. I lay in bed and meditated on these questions: What is my purpose right now in my life, and do I have the resolve to fulfill that purpose? In a constantly changing, ever ambiguous world, is anything worthy of the total commitment needed to attain it? <...>

Siletz Bay retreat

I'm just south of Lincoln City, in Siletz Bay. Its around midnight. My room is lovely, I'm on the 3rd floor in the corner, facing west-southwest, so I look right at the ocean. I have the windows open and I can hear the surf, which I find very soothing. I spent a lot of time at the beach today because it was so sunny and warm--I even napped on the sand. There were a lot of people out enjoying the weather. Lots of people with their children and their dogs, many many kites in the air. This is June weather, not February weather.

I've been reading Thoughts Without A Thinker for much of the day, and I'm getting a lot of insight on buddhist thought and Western psychology and the integration of the two. If anything, it is underscoring for me the necessity of mindful meditation, and I am grateful to my therapist for recommending that I return to the practice of it. I think that once I have finished absoring the content, this book will have a profound effect upon me. We'll see.

Lunch was a bowl of chowder, very good. Dinner, a half-dozen oysters on the half-shell accompanied by a double-chocolate stout and a coctail sauce spicy enough to make my eyes wate.

I walked around a bit in the little town here...it has the usual craft galleries, ice cream parlours, and little hole-in-the wall places serving chowder and fish and chips made from halibut, cod, or salmon.

I am heading home tomorrow.... I think I will drive back up north along 101 instead of going directly inland...I love driving with the sun-roof open and the heat on full-blast so I don't get cold...I get to smell the sea and enjoy focussing on navigating some of those interesting curves that the Pacific Coast Highway is famous for.

Well, I'm beat. I think I'll got to sleep. Maybe I'll make another entry sometime tomorrow.