Pele, Flying and English country dancers

Exerpt from an e-mail to Rod

Sat March 10th. 

Yesterday (Fri) 3 of us went to a special sacred site with a local shaman to give an offering to Pele the Goddess of fire, lightning, wind and volcanoes. We did ceremony in a cave as the shaman beat her drum, we rattled, chanted and put forth our desires to Pele the fiery goddess of the land. I thought of Lucy, Kalani, Karen, Sue, Sue McClelland, Jude and Candy while I was there.

The altar we formed during Robert's workshop
with the freshly picked flowers
which we threw into the ocean at it's end.
It is said that when you do this you will return to Hawaii

We had intended to meet up with Anthony and dream with his dream group of 5 people afterwards but we were so filled up with what we'd received that we declined his offer. Good decision! During dinner I could barely keep my eyes open let alone keep track of the conversation around me. I fell into bed (with my clothes on) at 7:30 after setting my alarm for 9:30 p.m. Seven hours later, 2:35 a.m., I woke up. My alarm hadn't gone off so I went back to sleep, arising at 6 a.m. 

I had a wonderful, much needed shower in my new bathroom (I'd just moved into a new hale) and joined the remaining 3 dreamers for brekkie. Afterwards I headed off to life drawing.

Life drawing was held at the studio of an artist friend of Richard's (I'm pretty sure this is THE Richard who started Kalani in the 80's). 5 of us piled into his car and he drove us there. There were 6 of us in total - 3 from Kalani, the host and 2 locals. The models came in the car with us from Kalani. The couple (young lovers) did lovely poses together and though my drawing skills are really rusty, it was nice to put pencil to paper. An interesting effect results from the multi-coloured pencil I was using as you never know which colour will come up - gotta look for one of these back home or get some here.

We got back in time for lunch and I met up with Helen, the last of the dreamers. We went into one of the meeting places afterwards and I taught her FLYING (Lomi people know what this is). She is a dance therapist who was intrigued by my presentation the other day and asked if I'd teach it to her. Since it's been raining heavily most of the day outings are not too inviting so it was a perfect way to spend the time.

I'm sitting here on the bed as I write this. The new wave of guests are piling into their rooms. We now have an English dance group and a Ruslan (not Russian) yoga group. Never heard of the latter. There are so many different versions of yoga now! This makes the 3rd yoga group to be here during my stay. And, there are yoga classes going on throughout the day, offered by Kalani staff members. If you need a shot of yoga this is the place to be. 

On a sunny day looking down the road from
the entrance to Kalani 

I face booked this about that:  I am now the last dreamer left at Kalani :( We've been invaded by yet more yogis and today the English country dancers have arrived. Thank God for some real hefty, earthy bodies, all these reedy people keep floating around. This place was in need of some grounding :)

I've arranged to get a car on Monday morning and will head out directly from the airport to Kona at about 10 a.m. I'm in the process of getting the accommodation sorted out. Bill has to send the rental agreement in a different form or I have to get a print out to fill out, scan and send back to him. I'll probably go to guest services to see if I can use their printer/scanner. I'll spend the night at Kona and see what will swim with me there - turtles and colourful fish have been promised. NOTE: COLOURFUL FISH AND A TURTLE WERE DELIVERED! There is a surfing beach nearby too, but Ellie, the model, was there yesterday and said there wasn't any surfing going on at that time. I'll take whatever happens:)

NOTE: BEACH WHERE I SWAM HAS TOO MUCH CORAL AND TOO MANY ROCKS FOR MY TASTE. I FOUND OUT THAT A BETTER SURF BEACH IS NORTH OF HERE BUT THAT'S O.K. 

I'll keep the car for the rest of my stay and drive myself to the airport on Thurs as it works out well financially.

Tomorrow is an open day. I may spend it at Kehena beach, where I was the first day, or do the sauna, swim at the pool kind of day. I intend to keep it low key in prep for the driving on Monday. The trip to Kona only takes about 2 1/2 hrs, IF I don't get sidetracked by sites along the way! NOTE: I MANAGED TO MAKE IT IN 3 HOURS, LEAVING AT ABOUT 11:30 a.m. STOPPED AT SOME VIEWING SPOTS BUT WANTED TO GET OVER TO THE KAIHUA-KONA SUN AS IT WAS RAINING MOST OF THE WAY. AND, THOUGH I'D BEEN ASSURED SUN WOULD BE HERE IT WASN'T - BUT IT WAS ALL GOOD! I had put the offer out to people in Anthony's group to come along if they liked but none were available. 

Anyway, I should go as the dinner conch will be sounding. The budgie birds are chattering in the trees in front of my door. Whether they're budgies or not I'm not sure but that's what they sound like.

Journey into parallel lives

He stands with his back to me. At six feet tall, wearing a crisp white lab coat, he is an impressive figure. He says I can call him Jacob, it's as good a name as any. He knows it is a name that appeals to me as it seems to belong to one who possesses a mysterious presence.

He smiles at how easily impressed I am with this task he performs so effortlessly. For what does it take really to hold space when one has been doing it all their life? He cannot remember a time when it wasn't always so.

I walk around to his right to get a better view of what he has devoted his life to. Test tubes like vials float in the air in front of him. From a distance they give the appearance of a massive church organ, staggered as they are at varying heights and distances. The mass seems alive.

At a closer view I see that he is monitoring the progress of liquid dripping into each vial from invisible spigots. Vials appear and once filled disappear seemingly at random. They are unmarked with no distinguishing features and the liquid is clear, silvery and crystalline-pure.

I understand that, suspended in other places and other times, dreaming bodies have embarked on journeys. And, though Jacob stands before me he is also a physical presence, monitoring each of them as well. These people are, from the point of reference of my time, advanced beings who have chosen to journey to bathe in "healing waters" in order to gather healing wisdom-energy for their less advanced self/selves.

Jacob makes them visible to me now and I observe their physical bodies resting for a half an hour at the most. Yet the bathers experience is of hours or days; sometimes months or years floating and drifting.

Suddenly Jacob transports me to the next level; the place of "gathering". Jacob is there too as a constant presence, overseeing the progress of each of the dream bodies. A more subtle, shimmering image of each dreaming body walks into the waters, then submerges, becoming one with the healing waters as their molecules mingle. In this way they absorb that which is healing for the particular needs of their lineage. There is an infinite number of bathers forming, dispersing and re-forming creating a sparkling dance of light before my very eyes.

How the essence they process from the healing waters is transported into the vials is an unexplained mystery; the drops of essence magically appear and drip into the appropriate vial.

Once their task is complete Jacob guides the "shimmerings" back into their suspended dream body which then journeys to rejoin its corporeal form in the material realm. The person later awakens, feeling glowingly refreshed.

Jacob explains that when a more dense, lesser advanced, earthbound soul needs a healing and cries out for help, it is he who hears their pleas. And it is he who matches the resonance of the essence with the intended receiver; administering the appropriate dosage in the form of a "wisdom moment". The knowing that has been delivered is absorbed, in some cases immediately, in others, over time. The process of healing is complete when the absorbed essence manifests as "right" action.

Jacob is pleased to be a part of this moment in time in which science is married to spirit as he knows it hasn't always been this way.

Looking for a sign

I visited Mom's nursing home on Wednesday to donate some CD's and a DVD from Moms stash for their music and entertainment programs; just one of the many tasks I've elected to do on Mom's behalf and bring closure for myself.

Running into old acquaintances who live, work and volunteer at the nursing home caused us to reminisce about Mom, her passing, the memorial/celebration of her life that the family hosted there a few weeks ago and death in general. I found quite quickly that one can't visit such a place after such a majour event without people opening up and sharing their own stories of love and loss.

It seems that, regardless of religious or spiritual orientation, surviving relatives are looking for signs from the departed that they are OK in their new realm of existence. The living also want to be reassured that those that have "passed" are now watching over, and perhaps, guiding them.

One woman, heavily grieving the loss of her father (who died in December) said she just wants to be able to move on but can't seem to do so. Despite not being ready to "go" there was nothing that could be done for him and this added to the pain and suffering he and his family experienced during the last few months of his life.  I asked what would make it possible for her to move on. She said she didn't know but felt that, "If I could only have a sign that he's OK. I think that would help." And though she said, in an off hand manner, "I did get a sign the next day" and proceeded to describe the incident, the radiance in her face indicated that this was a real, not a manufactured, experience but for some reason it just hadn't registered consciously with her yet.

She proceeded to tell me that, a few weeks later, during an especially difficult time, her father came to her in a dream and said, somewhat irritated, "Why do you keep calling on me? Don't you know that I'm dead?" This made her feel even worse until I reminded her, as she'd just told me, she'd already received the sign she was looking for. I proceeded to say that, if it were my dream, I'd try and see it from his point of view. When I took his vantage point I realized that I'd be wondering how many times and in how many ways would she need to be reassured that I'm OK? I'm dead and there are things I have to do here but trust that when you really need me I'll be there.

Some spiritual traditions believe that, not until the living have released the dead are those that have passed, free to move on in their journey; move on, they and we must. Our grief, sense of guilt, loss of direction keep them bound to us and between realms, neither here nor there (some spiritual traditions believe that there are many aspects to a human soul, that one aspect of the soul remains while other aspects are intended to move on). Our clinging to them keeps us from becoming fully present to and engaged in life, saps our energy and leads to depression.

Through past life regression and interlife experiences I have realized that when we die we reintegrate into the fullness, wisdom and love that we were before incarnating. In an instant, all suffering is over. But an aspect of our individual souls continue to reside in the hearts of the living and continue through the DNA of future generations.

Another woman said she was waiting for a sign from 2 relatives on her birthday but none was forthcoming. I wonder if, in looking for one specific sign, we might miss those magical, synchronic moments that happen almost daily reminding us of our interconnectedness.

Surprisingly, all this reminiscing found me, not sorrowful for the past, but anxious about the future. With Mom's death, (Dad having passed in 2002) the ties of my family of origin are broken. Released from the expectations that have defined us all our lives, our lives are, for the first time in our lives, truly our own. And, released from my duties towards my parents, I'm asking myself - who am I now, what do I really want and what do I do with this new chapter in my life.

Later that night a message from the pastor came through my answering machine. I had been thinking about him for days, wanting to let him know, personally, what a wonderful service he'd done for Mom and our family so I picked up the phone. He'd somehow gotten one digit wrong in my brother's phone number and was calling for the right one. He went on to say that he was sure I was missing Mom, that my family had done a good job honouring her at the memorial and that he was sure that she was pleased.

Signs are present everywhere when we embrace life.

healing water

I have little rituals, picked up though healing circles and shamanic gatherings, that I do each day to benefit the earth and water; it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like I'm connected to nature and stuff.

I have 2 jars both with the words, HEALING, LOVE, GRATITUDE written on the outside. The small one I fill daily from the tap. The next morning I pour all but a little bit of this water into the larger jar. The jars are in an altar space in my treatment room that is smudged daily. For over 20 years this has been a place of healing, where soothing music, chants and drumming have filled the air; during the winter months it is where I do my yoga practice in the warmth of the heater's glow while cold winds blow outside.

When the large bottle is filled I take it to the lake and pour the water back from where it came saying, "We are sorry for any suffering that we have caused you. We love you and are grateful." I learned this during a healing circle held in the aftermath of the tragic earthquake, tsunami and damage to the nuclear reactors that sent tons of radiated water back into the ocean. It is a small, but I think, important gesture for me to make.

Masuru Emoto has studied the effects of thoughts on water finding that words such as HEALING, LOVE and GRATITUDE can create the most beautiful, intricate crystals of water whereas negative words create distorted, unharmonious structures.

Since Mom died I've been immersed in the past and most especially last week as I helped my family prepare for a memorial service in her honour last Friday night.

My brother and I sorted through albums and boxes of family photos, scanned them into the computer and sent them back and forth to each other, so that he could make a slide show out of our "finds". With the assistance of one of Mom's sisters we were able to dig further into our past than I'd ever gone before. I stared deeply into the faces of many people I'd never, or rarely, met who peered back at me with an air of  familiarity.

Other photos brought back happy times spent with family and friends. Time periods jumbled together. One moment we THACKERLINGS were young exhuberant children, then young adults and teens playing in the snow, babes in the arms of our Mom, forty somethings crowded on my brother's couch, children again. Back and forth; memories spilled into my consciousness.

Mom loved music. Night and day I was immersed in the music of the 30's, 40's and 50's trying to select those pieces that touched an emotional cord within me, releasing memories which would confirm, yes that one, she'd love that one!

All this memory lane stuff had me out of step with time; lost in a fog of remembrance.

My dreams were filled with stories of being late for events. I'd wake up feeling that I was running behind. It was all I could do to drag myself out of bed and most days I'd wait til the latest possible moment making my dreams a reality. I couldn't catch up with life.

One such morning I was to meet with the pastor and my brother so that we could go over the memorial and give him some details about Mom's life and her personality. Already running late, I grabbed my full bottle of "blessed, healed" water as I ran out of the house, jumped into the car and sped off with it tucked neatly by my side. Meeting literal roadblocks and detour after detour, though the nursing home is only blocks away, my frustration exploded into a stream of expletives that would "turn the air blue" as my Dad would say. 

And it felt... sooo good... so relieving... that I let 'er rip, just like the scene of King GeorgeVI in THE KING'S SPEECH!

Then I remembered the poor water in the jar nestled beside me. I could see its crystals breaking apart, becoming blackened and distorted. 

I know that we are composed of over 90% water. The theory behind Emoto's experiments is that if water can be effected by thoughts and words then so can we. I swear that the swearing really, really helped me release a lot of tension. But what about the poor water? 

 I'd have to make it up to it. 

So after the meeting, back home and on my altar the jar went. I deluged it with chants, bringing in the big gun himself, the Dalai Lama, I drummed, treatment sessions were done, until I felt the water could feel the LOVE, HEALING and GRATITUDE directed its way, enough to be released back into the lake. I really don't know if this helped the water at all. All I know is that this too felt really, really good to me.

A NEW JOURNEY BECKONS

EDITH "EDIE" THACKER Sept 11, 1920 - June 5, 2011

In FATE AND DESTINY - the 2 agreements of the soul, Michael Meade writes of a Siberian tale of a cosmic, origin tree of life where human souls perch upon its "sky branches" waiting silently and watching like birds until something in the world below intrigues them enough to incarnate, descending and entering into "a womb where life is about to be born." (pg 122)

He then goes on to tell of an old West African story. As the soul begins to enter into earthly life it encounters a spirit (its divine companion) which accompanies the soul on its journey through the realm of incarnate beings and travels with the soul throughout its lifetime journey in the chosen body. The spirit "clarifies the image that first moved the soul and describes the terms through within which this particular life adventure will be shaped." (pg 123) This divine contract allows the soul and spirit to enter into the body and begin life on earth.

On the soul's journey towards the womb it finds itself standing before a radiant tree in the middle of a garden. The soul is instinctively compelled to touch the bark of the magnificent tree. As I understand it, this touch deeply buries the divine companion within the soul and the soul forgets what drew it to incarnate and just what it came into earthly life to accomplish for this Tree of Unity and of Life is also the Tree of Forgetfulness. This act is necessary for human life to begin.

As I dream this myth forward I imagine that as we come to the end of this incarnation our souls find themselves standing once more before the majestic Tree of Life. Once more the soul is compelled to place its hands upon the bark of the trunk but, this time, upon contact the Tree of Unity transforms into the Tree of Remembrance. The bird soul returns to perch upon the sky branches viewing its families and loved ones in the earthly realm and getting glimpses into their celestial home and of the souls who await their return. There they remain engaged in both realms until they are released from contracts with their beloved ones on earth. Upon release, the cords that bind are severed. Only then are they free to fully turn their gaze upon the Tree of Origins where their divine companion waits in full glory to accompany them on their journey home into the oneness from which they came. The body is vacated and the soul's earthly life comes to an end.

To the soul that became my mother in this earthly life I wish you courage on the next stage of your journey. And, should your bird soul once more find itself perching on the sky branches, may it be dazzled by an auspicious re-birth filled with love, compassion and joy.


Information and quotes are from FATE AND DESTINY - the two agreements of the soul by Michael Meade, Greenfire Press, 2010.

Prayer in many forms

Prayer, it's almost an embarrassing thing to admit nowadays, that I pray. I don't know why. I mean there are many forms of prayer; many motivations behind a prayer.

My earliest recollection of a prayer was this one taught to many a tiny, innocent child.
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take
This prayer scared the shit outta me. I'm sure it was responsible for my life long neck issues (explained here) and probably scarred me for life. The whole idea that God was some kind of creep out there cruising for someone to pluck up in the night didn't endear me to him (I was sure God must be a him). It didn't make me want to jump into bed any more than a lobster would willingly jump into a boiling pot. So, I guess that's why the whole damn Thacker clan are night people; because of this damn prayer.

Like most of us, I have been known to use prayer as a bargaining tool, for example:
"Please, please, please let me just get through this test that I didn't study for and I promise, cross my heart, that I'll study for days in advance from now on. I promise!" Miraculously passing the test has the power to wipe away any memory of promises made.

We pray for what we want to happen. We want our friends and family to be safe, happy, prosperous and healthy. When something bad happens to a loved one we pour our hearts out to God to make them better, to heal them, to watch over them and for a self-prescribed outcome that would make everything right once more, not only for them but, for our breaking heart.

The devastation in Japan and the horror experienced by the Japanese people has elicited a strong response in all of us to help in any way we can, through monetary donations, gestures of support, expressions of empathy and all forms of prayer.

Friends have been circulating this JAPANESE NUCLEAR REACTOR VISUALIZATION video by Adam Dreamhealer via e-mail in hopes that if enough people focus on the power of positive intention and visualization, that the situation will be brought under control with minimal damage to lives and the environment. Engaging in this visualization, people come together to raise the vibration and effect a change in our consensus reality. Behind this belief system is the reality that we are merely organized thought forms and thought has the power to affect what only seems to be a solid, material world.



The Foundation for Shamanic Studies issued this e-mail release to its members to enlist the power of helping spirits to assist in the healing for Japan with the reminder that the Japanese spiritual traditions (90% of the population is Buddhist or Shinto) regarding life, death and healing must be fully respected.

People are lighting candles, praying in churches or at their personal altars, smudging, chanting, reciting mantras, and "flying" to assist the healing process in Japan. NOTE: FLYING FOR JAPAN - SAT MAR 19TH 6 - 7:30pm at HOT YOGA WELLNESS CONCORD, 1750 Steeles Ave W in Toronto.

At the end of every Yoga Centre of Victoria satsang, recitation of Swami Radha's Divine Light Invocation was performed in which loved ones, those in need of healing, and projects needing assistance were seen whole, healthy and successful as they were"put into the light". The visualization progressed as our little collection of light brightened and expanded outwards join with other centres of light to include and offer healing energy to the earth and ultimately the universe.

And of course the forgiveness of Ho'oponopono is another way to offer a prayer for healing in whatever form it may take. The power of forgiveness extends as we forgive others who have transgressed against us and also ask for their forgiveness for our own ill-conceived actions. When we forgive ourselves for our own failings, the power behind this intention is amplified.

As I've observed, prayers of indigenous peoples not only display acceptance of the wisdom in "thy will be done" but also give thanks in advance for the healing that has taken place. Rather than pray for "something to happen" gratitude is expressed for the opportunity that exists in every day, for what has been received and an honouring of those spirits in their many forms who have made it so.

Some believe that the universe has its own plan and its own wisdom that is inconceivable to us mere humans. What good will come out of this suffering? Will the world become a more compassionate place? Will advances in safer technology result? Will individuals and the human race shift our priorities? Will our world view change?

Time will tell if the shift of the earth's plates below the ocean on that fateful day was the beginning of a shift in consciousness for us all.

Borne of Woman's Tears

I just read the blog CHASING THE GHOST by Dave Cleverly which begins here — as he's standing on Lion's Gate Bridge in Vancouver getting ready to jump.

In subsequent posts he talks about prayer and finding God. And it prompted memories of some dark times in my own past and this piece that I wrote in the winter of '84.
_______________________________________

Her eyes were burning with tears she would not shed. She curled up on the couch, laid her head upon its armrest and closed her eyes. Her breath, limited to her upper chest, choked back the flood of emotion pressing from within.

Why did she feel this way?

She didn't want to know.

Proud of her strength, she believed that if she delved into the source of her turmoil she would be lost forever in her weakness so she willed herself not to succumb, but, her breath becoming shallower, more laboured in her chest, her throat, was delivering her into her pain.

Her shoulders became limp as all the energy drained out of her, dissolving her physical boundaries, expanding and wrapping around her as a larger, embracing form.

She heard/sensed these words, "You are tired. Rest with me."

She felt her tension being physically stroked away.

"It's all right. YOU will be all right. Let go. Let go."

She felt breathing in another's breast upon which her head rest, and with each breath these words repeating. "You are afraid. You have many fears. I will take care of them. Trust in me."

That timeless voice — low, soft, feminine, familiar — flowing through her from heart to heart, which could resist the truth no longer.

Tears welling as she released her fears, she heard, "You are loved. KNOW that you are loved." And, at that moment, in knowledge, tears flowed.

Resting in Mother God herself, she was swept away on those tears into a deep womb of sleep.

_______________________________________________

I am tempted to say that this is just a piece of writing, but it is not.

It was an experience.

My recording of the event doesn't come near to the immensity of what transpired back then, but it is as clear, as intense, as kinaesthetic and as immediate to me now as it was back then.  It consoled me, buoyed me up, gave me hope back then...

as it does now.

Some people consciously find their way to God and sometimes God needs to find those who are lost and don't even know that they are seeking him/her at all.

Happy Ho'oponopono Day all!

I've been tweeting at AwakeningChoice almost daily since Nov 27th.

And, I've declared today as Ho'oponopono Day - how wonderful the world would be if everybody could spend a day in the spirit of Ho'oponopono.

Here's how I came up with this thought.

My tweets are mostly my thoughts inspired by my response to events of the day, synchronicity, meditation, inquiry, realizations, dreams, etc. But I do re-tweet or quote from other inspiring sources when I find something that speaks to me.

For the past few days I have been mulling over relationships, more specifically what I've contributed, for better or for worse to relationship. I'd like to think that I'm a good friend - loyal, there for my buds, someone who provides a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on. I'm a confidant, a cheering section, a wall to bounce ideas off of; I am a great listener. I can kid you into a better mood or console you when you're suffering. I've been called the "human valium" (No, it's not because I'm boring; but because, when it is needed, I have a strangely calming effect on others. Yah, I know, me! Weird isn't it!) Paradoxically, like a big goofy chocolate lab, I'm your, always up for and ready to try anything, mate. That is all good.

However, I have been and can be, judgmental, petty, jealous, envious and fearful. I've been a whiner. In fact my inner whiner sits at the door to my mouth ready to get out of the starting gate at the slightest provocation; my low tolerance for frustration being its prime trigger. Happy with my own company, I can be lost in my own thoughts (positive or negative) and therefore out of communication, for days, which doesn't make me the ideal partner. I could go on... but that would be ego-fuelled indulgence and serve no good purpose.

Humans naturally feel remorse for the negative unspoken thoughts that we harbour and for our thoughtless, or intentionally hurtful, knee-herk reactions to the insensitive, cruel or thoughtless deeds of others. Remorse gives us pause, allows us to acknowledge our transgressions and set the course right within ourselves. We are meant to feel remorse and move on. It's not meant to be a place of residence. When one is stuck in remorse it evolves into indulgent, self-pity which sucks the energy out of our best intentions to make it right, learn from our mistakes, forgive and move on as a more evolved being.

I first became aware of this fact during a workshop with Swami Radha. I observed her as she was listening to the "story" of a participant. The moment the woman's remorseful attitude made the shift into self-pity, Swami Radha did an abrupt 360 and shifted the whole scene to the hard facts and a new line of inquiry. This was done so quickly that the student didn't know what had hit her, just that all of a sudden there was awareness, blame had vanished and forgiveness transpired.  UN-FRIK'N BELIEVABLE! Swami Radha embodied: razor-sharp discrimination to cut through all the "stuff", infinite compassion and a fierce, tough, uncompromising love.

Bottom line is that love, compassion and forgiveness are transformative vehicles which will transport one out of indulgent self-pity, amongst other undesired states of mind.

The question is how can I access this when there is no Swami Radha to guide me (Swami Radha left this realm on Nov 30, 1995)?

One lovely way is the use of this Ho'oponopono prayer as a meditation or mantra. One translation for Ho'oponopono is to make right.

Forgive me,
If I have hurt you
in any way, shape or form,
in thought, word or deed,
in any time, any place,
past, present or future,
Forgive me.

And I forgive you
For hurting me
in any way, shape or form,
in thought word or deed,
in any time, any place,
past, present or future,
I forgive you.

I forgive myself,
And may the great Mystery
Forgive us both.

AMAMA, U A NOA – the prayer is freed.
© Rieckmann/Sakuma 1999.


Click here for more about Ho'oponopono.

Have a fabulous, great, good or merely stupid day; but not a bad one :)

Face Book "Friend"

The Dalai Lama Is a friend of mine.

Yes, you heard that right.

Actually, he's a Face Book "friend" of mine. I'm very selective as to who I allow to connect with me on FB. OK, he actually didn't ask me to be his friend but that's beside the point. Anyway...I don't play the numerous games that seem to have captured friends imaginations and I have become a FAN of exactly 2 things: Betty Blogger and Stories from the Yogic Heart. The former because it was part of a homework exercise for Betty Blogger's course and the latter because, even though my story is in it, it is a really inspiring book. I check out FB to see how my friends are doing and see the photos that they post.

It's so cool to go on to FB and see the Dalai Lama's lovely face smiling out at me announcing his entry. His latest entry was a timely one that appeared on Wed Jan 5th (entered at 5:25 in the morning no less; only THE Dalai Lama would be Face Booking at 5:25 a.m.) titled COUNTERING STRESS AND DEPRESSION. It was written on Dec 31/10 and published in the Hindustan Times, India, on Jan 3/11.

One of the many things about the article that gives me hope is his assertion that, "So long as we remember that we have this marvellous gift of human intelligence and a capacity to develop determination and use it in positive ways, we will preserve our underlying mental health."

He lost his freedom at 16, his country at 24 and has lived in exile for more than 50 years. Despite the heartbreaking news he hears from his homeland he still doesn't give up. What helps him is to cultivate the thought that (summarizing here):

• If the situation/problem can be remedied there is no need to waste your energy in worry or letting yourself become overwhelmed by it, rather spend it on seeking its solution.
• If there is no possibility for a solution or resolution; you can't do anything about it. "The sooner you accept this fact, the easier it will be for you."

But, before you can discern whether or not there is a resolution you have to:

• confront the problem
• take a realistic view

There is a famous quote that goes something like this "I've been through some really bad times in my life, a few of them actually happened." This comes to mind because more often than not it's not the actual event that causes pain but the stories we tell ourselves about it which create disturbing emotions, thoughts and mental events.

The first problem we need to confront is our compounding negative thought processes around the problem itself. Clearing the mental clutter around the problem allows for a clear, realistic view and enables us to confront the actual issue. We just have to:

Maya peeking out 

• keep on clearing out the negativities 
• while cultivating gratitude 
• and concern for others 
• and turn adversity into advantage

He believes that: 

• the mind can be transformed
• we can overcome disturbing emotions 
• and achieve a sense of inner peace

Thanks so much to the Dalai Lama for this inspiring entry!

Namaste 

Nance

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Mind Training in action

Cartoon copyright Nance Thacker 1991.
Click on image to enlarge

I have done yoga since I was 16. I've lead and presently lead and teach classes and workshops in: relaxation, stress management, meditation and hypnosis.  You'd think by now I'd be perfect...ha! This is definitely not the case as I have a particularly challenging mind and nervous system that seems drawn to bouts of depression and anxiety like a moth to a flame. And, this is precisely what makes me a good teacher. I know whereof I speak.

I observed the latest bout coming on through my TWEETS. It started subtly enough. A little awareness dawned on Dec 6th that my mind was becoming pretty busy with conflicting thoughts along with their attendant emotions. Envy followed around the 12th accompanied by that familiar feeling of self-loathing and the little voice that worms its way into my mind repeating variations on a theme: "you SHOULD: be better than you are, be more than you are, have accomplished more that you have". When these dominate I become lost in all of this S**T.

As I reclaim myself on the 14th and 15th I witness and become aware of worry, anger and other "negative" thoughts bubbling up and am able to catch the "inkling" before they develop further.

But somehow the scales tip and these negativities begin to take root, playing over and over. Samskaras (in western terms neural pathways) become entrenched in my brain; becoming my automatic default response to life. This vulnerable position ignites the "fight or flight response". I become spun, loose my centre, become hyper sensitive to the actions and emotions of my significant other and scramble in an effort to please others because I am so "beside myself" that I cannot please myself.

Without a centre no action "feels" authentic, my body, fuelled by the stress response, feels foreign. With no place to anchor me, action is without backbone, ineffective, inefficient; results are predictably erratic, unsatisfactory and sometimes chaotic and the world around me reflects my inner state.

In this state I am more susceptible to the judgements of others. In the heat of the moment tempers flare, arguments ensue, harsh words, that can never be taken back, are spoken. Arguments take on monumental proportions, consequences loom heavily in my mind as it goes into the deepest and darkest places as happened from the 19th to the 26th. Turbulent emotions rule and peak on the 28th when something commands me to STOP & BREATHE. 

In that most charged of moments I connect with calm. This is magical effect of mind training in action.

With the calm comes awareness that it is time for me to pull out, stop being the witness. I know this territory well enough. Take charge of my mind, shift focus and consciously apply mind training.

By the 31st I still feel emotions coursing through my body but my yoga asana practice delivers awareness of the still pond that resides within and it now extends beyond my time on my mat.

It is timely that I start anew with the New Year in bringing my mind training skills into practice. I don't allow the negative tapes to run. Evening mantra practice, replaces the "inner critic" and settles me into the receptive hypnogogic state where implantation is optimal. Negative self-judgment is countered by logical inquiry or silent mantra practice. Yoga practice and walking keep energy flowing evenly and discharge daily accumulated tension. I set the alarm 45 minutes before I have to get up, time in which to briefly scan my dreams and then BLAST MYSELF WITH POSITIVE SUGGESTIONS over and over during this especially receptive hypnopompic state.

I know the bout will return again. But, I also know that the calm, quiet centre resides within, all I need to do is breathe and feel the peace and tranquility.

For the New Year I wish you find access to that calm, quiet centre within.

Sweet Tweets

I have discovered the world of TWITTER and, surprisingly, I have discovered that I enjoy TWEETING. I like the economy of trying to get my point across in 144 characters or less. Being a lover of micro-fiction (you may recall my READERS' DIGEST REJECTS series) you can see why it would appeal to me.

The question TWITTER asks is, "What is happening?" Well, frankly I can't see anyone being interested in what I'm doing as I'm an average gal doing what most of us are doing most of the time. Who needs more of that? I've found instead that I tweet from the perspective of the observer regarding meditations, realizations experiences and challenges of the moment. I guess I could call it a mind tweet as I comment on thoughts, spiritual and philosophical inquiry, reflections and expression.

They are a little cryptic, that's for sure as my sister-in-law asked me (on FaceBook) what I was so angry about today and I had to explain that I, in fact, wasn't angry but was exploring anger.

Because, you see, today I tweeted about anger. My goal was not to be angry for today. And, as all meditators know, when that is your goal what arises is awareness of the beginnings of anger. I'm not talking about full fledged pissed-offedness (wow I didn't know that pissed-offedness was a word, spell check accepted it...) but the minor little nigglings, inklings or signs of irritation, feeling pressured, rushed or, my special tell tale signs of frustration (a first stage of anger for me): beginning to speed up in action, thought or speech.

That moment in which I catch the "inklings" provides the distance needed to detach and then choose to let it go. And so what is meant to be a transitory flashing off of thought or emotion becomes just that as I watch it arise, label it and let it go, leaving a clean slate behind.

To see what I'm writing about check out my TWITTER site at AwakeningChoice

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

A friend agitatedly blurted out that she had difficulty with the concept of "choice".  I realized that I had used the word "choice" quite a bit during our conversation. Obviously since the word is included in the name of my hypnosis business AWAKENING CHOICE (which is also the name of this blog), the concept of choice is a biggie for me.

Though she expressed a desire to change her life, my friend was depressed, stuck, lacking in the energy and motivation needed to initiate action of any kind in order to change her situation. Though our situations differ, I too have felt like her; probably many of you have too. Energy suckers such as (and please feel free to add your personal faves): inertia, self-doubt, regret or longing for the past, holding on to past dramas or traumas, fear or a sense of hopelessness about the future, clinging to labels assigned to one's self by self or others, peer pressure to remain within defined confines, what will others think, who do you think you are, leave one feeling like a powerless victim.

When we have been a "victim" of a crime or a vicious act the responses listed above are amplified, seem insurmountable and the challenges appear far greater. The reality is that the human spirit is resilient. We've all witnessed inspiring examples of resilience. If one person can rise above such a situation so can we all. We have the capacity to heal ourselves and our relationships. Living in a human body subjects us to challenges, illness and loss during our life and guarantees that we will die but suffering is optional — just ask the Dali Lama.

What she couldn't see is that we make choices (consciously or unconsciously) every second of every day. When we say that we don't have choice we're really saying that we aren't conscious of the act of choosing, because we actually are choosing at every moment. Don't believe me? You are right now choosing whether to continue reading this post or to do something else.

When we become more consciously aware of our thoughts, feelings, emotions, beliefs, and sensations we are living in the present moment and the presence of choice becomes more evident. In this moment there is no past, no her/his story; in this moment there is no future. Without our story, life is full of potential.

When I begin to realize that I have the resources within me to enable me to choose a different action, feeling or belief, no matter how small, that opens up unforeseen possibilities and sets the stage for transformation. The moment I exercise that option it is like a droplet sending ripples through the stagnant pond which my life has become. These ripples become waves of change in relationship within and ultimately between me and the people and world in which I live. This reality can be pretty daunting and can stall me before I begin. It may feel easier to stay in the status quo, after all what choice do I have? 

In accepting the concept of choice I take responsibility for my actions, their consequences and my life.
Each time I consciously exercise my ability to choose I am actively participating and engaged in life. I become energized. Struggles become transformed into challenges. I recapture my love of life, see it as precious and realize that I am entitled to be happy and enjoy it; and gratitude flows.

For me the ultimate belief about choice is that we are all in this together, a consciousness evolving that has chosen to experience this earthly existence through many, many lives and lifetimes. We are all one.

STORIES FROM THE YOGIC HEART

OMG! The phantom editor is a real person. Her name is Lisa Miriam Cherry and she's just published STORIES FROM THE YOGIC HEART a collection of 27 stories of how yoga has transformed their lives. And, my story, A HOUSE FOR MY SOUL is one of them.

I have found the process, from the initial submission of my story (and notification of it's acceptance), to actually holding the book in my hand, to be TOTALLY SURREAL! For some background see: here and here, and here. (I really think I should really call this blog the SUBLIME AND THE RIDICULOUS.)

True to Lisa's modus operand, just when I was wondering, hmm I wonder what has happened with the book, I received an e-mail from her on August 18th, notifying me that the book launch party was to be held on Sept 2nd at THE YOGA SANCTUARY in Toronto and I was invited... because, my own story A HOUSE FOR MY SOUL appears in the book. I'm skeptical by nature, as you can plainly tell, but it was so.

At the party (which was so much fun) Lisa told me that it has taken her 6 years to produce the book. As thumb through it's pages and read the stories I marvel at the task she set for herself, appreciate the gargantuan effort it took for her to bring this project into the world; a true labour of love. She has my deepest admiration and respect!

I am moved by the stories of the other authors and am deeply humbled that my piece appears alongside theirs. We come from all walks of life and all ages (the oldest yogi is 98 years old); all felt our lives transformed by the grace of yoga practice. As you read you will see that we also give voice to the evolutionary process yoga has undergone over the last 50 or so years. From little specks of light, a shift would take place that would propel yoga into the mainstream of North America.

For the first 7 years of my study of yoga I practiced in isolation, self-taught, through books and TV programs. Meanwhile, others of my generation were doing the same in their own little spot in the universe or trekking to India to study at the feet of masters and bring back the wisdom or serendipitously stumbling across a swami who happened to live in their own neighbourhood or gathering with other self-taught practitioners to share what they had discovered.

My first participation in public yoga class was in 1975 through a yoga teacher training program offered at Sheridan College (which was then a budding, little community college not the internationally renown home of the school of animation that it is now) in my hometown of Oakville, Ontario Canada. I learned about it through an ad in the local paper, THE OAKVILLE BEAVER. At 23, a yoga practitioner and frustrated waitress with a newly minted degree in fine art, I found myself surrounded by eccentric, middle-aged, middle class, white women struggling to find balance in their lives as wives and mothers. Some were already teaching yoga, offering Sivananda influenced classes after hours at school gymnasiums, local YMWCA's and church basements. They formed a kind of yoga underground. This is how yoga was spread in the burbs, in my neck of the woods, in those days.

When I moved to Victoria, BC I became a member of the Yoga Centre of Victoria, an informal collective of individuals who taught public classes and gave peer workshops out of the YMWCA and their own homes. Envisioned and propelled by the driving force of Shirley Daventry French, amongst others, the community practiced the same form of hatha yoga as the Oakville group and was composed primarily of the same demographic to which was added a number of men (mainly husbands at first) and later younger practitioners appeared. Within a few years Swami Radha and B.K.S. Iyengar became our gurus. "Seniour" teachers - some international, some from the states and some Canadians - came to teach their methods. From these modest beginnings a formal yoga centre - the IYENGAR YOGA CENTRE OF VICTORIA - has sprung up in the heart of Victoria.

Not all had an affinity for these chosen masters and a faction of the group split off to follow the teachings of others and form groups of their own - Iyengar, ashtanga, Kripalu, flow, vinyasa, hot yoga, Baptise yoga, Moksha yoga, anusara and others have sprung up in a process of evolution that continues today in centres world-wide.

We are now so resource rich with yoga teachers that young people flock to classes at thousands of yoga centres in North America.

Krishnamacharya, Sivananda, B.K.S. Iyengar, Pattabhi Jois, Swami Radha, Swami Satchidananda, Paramahansa Yogananda, Indra Devi, Baba Hari Dass, Venkateshananda, Sri Brahmananda Sarasvati, these are some of the names of teachers and gurus that you will find in the book. If you do yoga they, and all who came before them, are part of your lineage. When you come to the mat you honour them and are responding to your innate need to "come home" and communicate with the Great Spirit, the divine, God.

My practice in all its forms is my refuge, my inspiration, my celebration, my life-long companion, my teacher, my creation, my connection with nature, the universe, all beings and the Great Mystery. It is the unique expression of my heart and spirit.

I am truly blessed that yoga came into my life.

Lisa has not only put together a book that explores how yoga has transformed the lives of it's authors, through their journeys you will discover the seeds of how yoga became, to use a modern expression - "viral".
Namaste,
Nance

default of de-mind

In his article HYPNOSIS AND MEDITATION, which appeared in the Dec. 2009 issue of the JOURNAL OF HYPNOTISM, Philip H. Farber, CH introduced me to the concept of a "default network" — a set of neurological processes — of the brain. He says that when your brain is not occupied with conscious activity the default network kicks in with random activity (stories, daydreams, memories etc). As I understand it, if we don't fuel the flames of the story (and its attendant thoughts, emotions, judgment, drama, fear etc) or try to push the story away, it will "flash off" like steam from a boiling kettle and be replaced by others. Over time the stories will diminish and calm mind will break through with greater frequency.

In this blog entry of MENGSTUPIDITIS, Chade-meng Tan states that when we stop agitating the mind it becomes calm and clear and happiness is revealed as the default state of the mind. Deepak Choprah is in agreement and adds that we can't just will ourselves to be happy. We must work to let go of the "baggage" (aka karma) that we've accumulated in this life as well as past ones, attain a calm mind through meditation practice and then we will discover that happiness resides underneath all. Nothing can make me happy; happiness just is.

Throughout my lomi training and in the works of Abraham channeled by Esther Hicks the concept that happiness is our birthright was oft repeated. Some people are blessed with having a naturally happy and optimistic nature. Perhaps, subconsciously, they recognize more often than most, when they can choose between sadness and happiness and choose the latter. It has been proven that these fortunate types experience more success in their lives. Their success doesn't make them happy, rather their happiness draws successful outcomes to them.

Much of my meditation practice is spent observing thoughts, emotions and sensations as they pass through my mind while maintaining the non-judgmental stance of the observer. If I stop agitating the mind I witness the movement of energy in my brain as the default network of the brain in action; then I can discern when the default has gotten stuck on a thought or emotion, indicating in all probability that karma is affecting my present situation and actions.

But just how does one let go of this stuff? Emotions and thoughts can be explored through journalling, inquiry and reality checking, while: dream work, shamanic journeying and spiritual/energy based body work such as Lomi bypass the conscious mind and clear the way for resolution on other levels.

Lately, due to my virtually daily viewing of FIFA World Cup soccer, my default seems to be set on the sound of Vuvuzela's. It is said that if one was to go out into deep space, where there is no external sound at all, the universal hum of "OM" could be detected; the sound underlying all. Well, it feels like I'm actually hearing the Vuvuzela's as they are being played; that I'm connected to the world wide buzz of humanity.

Ah ha, maybe that's why the wasp has been attracted to our house and has been building its nest outside our door!

Truce

I woke up several times during the dark hours Sat morning feeling yucky with waves of nausea washing over me, stomach churning, salivary glands secreting, beads of sweat breaking out over my forehead and body, jaw clenching to keep myself from vomiting. Don't you hate throwing up? I do, uugh!

From the tip of my tailbone to my atlas/axis, my back felt like every vertebrae was subluxed causing discomfort from my muscles, tendons, ligaments and connective tissue down to the finest fibres of my body. Oddly, the only thing that didn't hurt was my head and hair. I had all the symptoms of a migraine without the head pain — weird. Since I tend to migraines this was a medical wonder and a small consolation.

I did what I usually do with migraines, I meditated on the pain and went into it. This often helps diffuse it to some degree. I tried various positions: lay on my back in a restorative yoga pose with my chest and head elevated which gives space to the abdominal organs and helps to settle them; then lay on my stomach turning my head and changing my arm positions every 20 breaths or so. The latter is my Mom's remedy for a "tummy" ache which I think has some merit from a meridian point of view as the stomach meridian runs through the front of the body, down the quads and over the top of the ankles and feet (the pressure on the front of the body and warmth is soothing). These efforts did indeed help everything to settle somewhat; enough that I could go deeper.

And what did I find? Everytime a thought or worry came into my head — wham! My stomach would turn. Even the mere inkling that my mind was veering in that general direction was enough to trigger it. When I settled my attention on neutral things, as when I focused on the breath and body position, or, better still combine this with images of a warm, golden, desert plain or a blank canvas it would level out and I'd feel a degree of warmth and calm.

Once I made the connection I tested my theory and sure enough it was so. Every thought brought that churning sensation, most especially these: OMG I'm having a heart attack (Not, or 2 of my clients and 1 friend had had one over the past few weeks too.) and OMG I'm having a stroke. (Can you smile - check, raise both arms - check, speak a sentence - check. Not.)

The nausea persisted the rest of the day and into Sunday as a low laying sour stomach feeling. Within about 48 hours, aided to no small degree by hanging like a bat from my yoga ropes, doing meridian stretches and laying on my back with balls under my skull and glutes it had gone.

Normally I hate being sick with a passion but this time it was different. I had a great weekend! I spent most Saturday sleeping (which I haven't done since... well I can't remember when) drifting in and out of dreams and occasionally rousing myself enough to munch on crackers (the ones "Mooching" Maya hadn't licked) or sip tea or ginger ale which Rod had brought up to my bedside. I'd allow no thoughts of: past, future, things to do or not do, judgements, plans or the like to cross my mind.

I stayed in my PJ's the whole day! And when I got up at 5 p.m. I dove into The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill which was so beautifully written and engaged me so completely that I couldn't put it down til I'd read the last word on Sunday night.

It was as if my mind had reached a point of overload; the only remedy was to give it a rest. The ideal would be to go away, live on a mountain top and just be. So that's what I did, minus going away and living on a mountain top. No phones were answered; e-mails checked or errands done. I let the busy-ness of life drop away once I'd convinced myself that surely the world and everyone in it would get along just fine without my input for 48 hours.

I let cares dissolve into meditation, unloaded my mind through dreams and when my mind had settled enough, I gave it permission to focus on words someone else had written on a page rather than be scattered by those swirling around in my head; I allowed it to become entranced by the author's finely crafted story line rather than be tossed by the gazillion random fretful, fearful, busy ones that normally bubble up in my overwrought mind.

I read without a highlighter in hand, bending any pages or making notes in the margins, which was tremendously freeing (I usually read non-fiction books and articles related to work and am constantly entering info into my brain).

I'd forgotten what a treat it is to be able to just read for the pure pleasure of it.

Late Sunday night Rod was surfing the net in search of a dining room table. He was cruising Amish furniture websites as we're looking for a dining room table to go with some stuff we already have. On one website was a picture of a church and a statement that said they kept Sunday sacred and would be back tomorrow. Not only do they take the day off, they even give their website a day of rest!

It was a synchronistic reminder for me to question how important is the s**t that goes on in my mind or the stuff that I do in the scheme of things that I can't give it a day of rest now and again.

Next time it won't be because I feel like crap, it'll just be because.

108 SUNS

Although I wrote this piece just a day or so after the event and Christmas has come and gone, the effects of this winter solstice celebration still live on for me.

(A little illustration is to come. It's too late now to use the scanner as other beings are tucked safely into their beds: Rod's snores drift down from the bedroom above, Flippy has been happily ensconced in the freshly done laundry all night and Maya, after an enthusiastic bout of leaprosy, has flaked out on my bed - a tiny little black speck nestled in a billowy nest she's created in my soft, blue, flannel covered duvet.)

*SO IT IS NOW A FEW DAYS LATER (it's Feb 1st as I write this colourful commentary) AND, AS YOU CAN SEE, I HAVE ADDED THE PICTURE. Rod, my own personal little Holmes on Homes, is working his butt off creating a calming, oasis retreat out of what was once only a bathroom (note: not our bathroom, sigh). Flip, my Big Beautiful Girl, is now sleeping, Princess and the Pea-like, on a pillow in the bedroom. And Maya has finally given up begging me for more food, attention, play, pats...and has made a tactical move by laying on the carpet right in front of the doorway. I'll have to walk over her to get outta here. And so, she has cleverly assured herself of my undivided attention. Love Sponge that she is; I will be unable to ignore her.

Now I know that you all waited with baited breath for this image to appear (probably checked and rechecked this site a few times a day even) so perhaps you're a little disappointed, expecting more from me - artist/animator that I've been - but, I find stick figures perfect for yoga diagrams. They have a life all their own and I like how their little butts appear and disappear in certain poses. Kind of symbolic - you work your butt off doing these things but in the end it's still there.

Remember this site is for my own amusement; kind of like being the Queen of a very small, really really small, tiny, rarely visited country. So, as befits all rulers, I can do what I want.

__________________________________________________________________

One thing that occurs during the Christmas season is the winter solstice and with it the yogic tradition of doing 108 Sun Salutations aka the practice of Yoga Mala. One sun salutation (surya namaskara) consists of 12 yoga asanas (postures) linked together in a rhythmic flow co-coordinated with the breath. Each surya namaskara represents one bead on a mala (a string of beads) and the breath is like the string that links them all together.

This is my yearly ritual. For me the festive season doesn’t officially begin until 108 suns have been completed, preferably in the company of others who observe this tradition. It is my Christmas prayer. Love, gratitude, hope, joy and more are all expressed in a celebration of the gift of this physical life through the inspiration filled movements of each salutation.

I have done many Yoga Malas in my life and no two have been the same. It is as varied as the person leading the flow. However, some things stay the same:
- Celebrants come together in the spirit of satsang (sat = true, sanga = company) or of like mind.
- Each individual reflects on the year that has passed and their intention for the year to come.
- Respecting one’s own needs, adaptations are made and one rests when necessary.
- The process begins and ends with a unifying chant (OM being the most common).
- A lengthy savasana (relaxation) is enjoyed at the conclusion of the rounds at which time one spontaneously descends into effortless, quiet, stillness

On Dec 20th as I write my intentions I’m reflecting on my visit with my *Mom. As I witness her fall into the decline of dementia I feel I’m drifting away with her; she seems such a familiar part of me. And after spending time with her, anxiety about what awaits me as I age escalates. So I must detach, let her go and make a conscious effort to re-attach myself to, and become immersed in, the demands of daily waking reality when I leave. Some days this isn’t so easy and this is one of them.

At De La Sol yoga studio where this yoga mala is taking place, Katie has decided that each of us will participate by announcing at intervals of 5’s how many salutations have been completed as we move through all 108. So, for example, when we finish the 5th sun the first person to her right will announce, “That’s 5”. When we reach 10 the person to that person’s right will declare “that’s 10” and so on around the circle. Thus I am the holder of numbers 20 and 95.

We begin to move to the beat of a drum on CD.

Now, the amazing thing is that it was more difficult for me to keep track of #20 than #95. Most often yoga mala is done to a rhythmic beat of drums or music; sometimes we move in silence to the sound of our own unified breaths but never before have I been asked to keep track of the repetitions.

I’m not sure I like this.

My mind, so used to drifting into the flow, is rebelling against this newfound mindful aspect. As we get closer to #20 I become more anxious. Will I be embarrassed, by a slip in awareness due to a wandering mind, just like my mother’s? Just the fear of this sets my mind and emotions into a spin increasing the likelihood that the dreaded outcome will come to pass. And, for the fraction of an instant the numbers fade away. When I return I realize I’m either one number behind, right on or one ahead of the count.

Self-doubt magnifies compounding the problem. I know Katie said that we are to announce the count after the number is completed but in my own practice my habit is to count in advance of the salutation to come.

The room feels restless. Is it just me or are the other participants feeling this too?
When the time comes tenuously I announce, “I think this is 20 or maybe 21?”

“20”, confirms another yogi.

With the heavy responsibility lifted off my shoulders from then on my mind sharpens with each salutation. Somewhere around 80 the music stops; we flow as one on the rhythm of our breaths. When it is my time I announce “that’s 95” seamlessly and glide through on target as the last #108 is declared.

A good thing about getting older - stamina increases - it’s true. I feel strong. Unlike many of the younger ones, my breaths are even and I’ve barely broken a sweat.

And as I drive the home on the 403 it seems that never has my vision been crisper, the night sky shone more brightly, my spirit been so light. Not since my lomi training have I felt as united with others in the flow of traffic – like a tiny blood cell propelled within the circulatory system of some great, infinite being.

Never has my mind been so sharp and clear; my emotions so peaceful, filled with hope and gratitude, nor have I felt more present than at this moment … the most precious gift this Christmas could present to me to grace the year to come.

Click here on *Mom - for a sample visit.

Stories of my lives

I recently O.K’d the last edit of my contribution to Stories From the Yogic Heart a collection of stories of how yoga has transformed one’s life and in writing my bio, I was confronted by an odd realization.

We tell ourselves stories of our life and for better or worse these stories begin to take on a life of their own and shape our lives with far broader implications than we could ever imagine.

For the longest time one of my stories has revolved around failure, specifically my failure to get to India to study yoga during a 10 year period from the mid ‘70’s to the mid 80’s.3 times I tried and 3 times I failed due to: poor timing, miscommunication, lack of funds, yada yada yada…the list goes on and on. I began studying and practicing in my teens, well before it became mainstream – just me (the weird kid) doing yoga in our family room. The only others I knew who did yoga were middle aged western women like Kareen and Lilias on T.V. and scantily-clad, double jointed East Indian men who appeared in books on the subject. If anyone was meant to study in India it was me, or so I thought.

In one of Alberto Villoldo’s books (I’m reading 3 books at the same time and 2 of them are his, so I don’t know which one this is from – either the Four Insights or the one on Soul Retrieval.) he says that the inability to reach ones goals is due to lack of commitment. And, that was true in this case. Bottom line, there was a lack of commitment on my part, not to yoga, nor to my practice (I loved my asana practice, still do.) but towards going to India where it all began.

For, you see, I took a Straight Walk workshop with Swami Radha around the same time that I was trying to get to India. And that, though I didn’t comprehend it at the time, changed everything because in her I’d found my spiritual teacher. Her practices took me to the depths of my soul right here in Canada and formed the foundation for my present practice, spiritual evolution, the work that I do now and the way I live my life.

I enjoyed a rich yoga life from my mid 20’s to mid 30’s. I had a dedicated asana practice. I studied multiple aspects of yoga with Swami Radha from the mid ‘70’s to the 80’s through workshops and during a 6 month residency at Yasodhara Ashram and I house-sat and lived at Shambhala House Victoria (now called a Radha House) on and off towards the end of my stay in Victoria.

During one workshop with Swami Radha I voiced frustration at my inability to “get it together” to achieve my goal of getting to India. A fellow yogi said that he observed sincerity in my practice and, as he saw it, “India” resided in my heart. He was the first to voice that my path was simply different from my hatha yoga mentor and peers, no more or less noble than any other aspirant on the spiritual path. I thought he was being kind, but in hearing his words of compassionate wisdom, my heart sang

As I wrote my bio the gratitude I felt towards Swami Radha and her work allowed me to realize that throughout my life, whenever I’ve thought about my evolution in yoga, despite evidence to the contrary, I focused on a story line of failure rather than one of success.

Realizing the impact that this story of failure has had on me and my life is a paradigm shifting experience; by altering the way I view my past, my experience of my present, future and even the past itself is being reshaped. And, I am experiencing a physical, mental, emotional and spiritual shift in my being that is infusing me with a new found energy and possibility.

What this has taught me is that when we seek new vantage points from which to view our life we realize that the past is malleable and memories of it are not cast in stone. Today I give myself permission to be happy; seek out those light filled memories of success, contentment, bliss and let them reshape my past, present and future.

spring spiritual detox

Here I am contentedly sitting cross-legged on the floor of my treatment room amongst bins, boxes, piles of papers to be categorized and files to be sorted, feeding page after page of now obsolete info into my paper shredder; the one with “ferocious” shredding power.

Occasionally I linger over way out of date financial records, client lists, appointment books just long enough to appreciate that all of these people and associations have helped me develop my therapeutic practice. They were my teachers as much as I was there therapist. Some relationships continue to this day while others were passing experiences. And I feel deep gratitude towards them all.

The air becomes silent. The most gratifying sounds of material being chomped, crunched and devoured; music to my ear for the past 2 hours, has come to a dead halt.

I turn the machine off and let it rest while I putter about making order out of the chaos strewn around me.

When I turn the shredder on again the little green light shines and I delicately offer up one folded paper, placing it gently into the mouth of “ferocious” but… nothing. Even its little red light, indicating overheated, has fallen dull and lifeless.

Sigh.

It is with great sadness that I announce the passing of Mailmate a plucky little shredder that, now I find out, “will handle 51-100 uses per day.”

Ooops.

Well, its ferocity couldn’t match my enthusiasm for clearing clutter.

You see I am working through Soul Coaching - 28 Days to Discover Your Authentic Self by Denise Linn; actually doing all of all the exercises. What with a business association come to an end, work being slow, and having just gotten through Mom’s most recent health crisis I find myself declaring, “I am so done.”

And, with this declaration comes the greatest sense of release! The timing couldn’t be better.

Who am I? Where am I going and why have I, all my life, been in such a hurry to get there? What am I doing with my life right now? Can I not allow myself to enjoy every day as it unfolds? What have I got to be grateful for?

It feels as if I have a lot of stuff – material, mental, emotional and spiritual - to clear out of my life because it’s worn a too familiar pathway in my psyche, bogging me down and draining my energy. How can I make way for new possibilities if I keep doing the same thing, thinking the same thoughts? Who I am is clearly in need of an overhaul.

For 2 and 1/2 years, as a house-sitter living in Victoria, B.C., I moved on average every 6 weeks, more or less. Our co-op house had disbanded and as a house-sitter I lived in and took care of other people’s houses – pets, gardens, and on my first instance 1 teenager – in lieu of rent, while they were away.

I rented, for $50./month, a studio space in Xchanges Gallery (when it was located above Canadian Linen on North Park St.) where I kept a mattress, my essential record player and record collection, a cinder block and board bookcase and all the art supplies I needed as a cartoonist – the portable drawing board my brother made for me, art board, pens, ink etc. Some house hold items got stored in the basement of my first house sitting assignment.

Other than that every item I owned I carried from house to house transported in green garbage bags. I was affectionately called by my friends an “aspiring bag lady” or the “little hunza” (which I was told was a group of small, sturdy, sherpa-like people).

How quickly I got tired of packing and unpacking; carrying everything I owned literally on my back. Soon I began to question just what was important, useful, desirable, necessary or simply treasured. Some items never made their way out of my garbage bags from sit to sit. So things just fell by the wayside as the time went on. Two garbage bags became one and any item that I desired to add to my stash meant that another would have to be released.

And here I am today having accumulated so much stuff that I don’t even know just what I have let alone appreciate it.

On day 2 of the program, rejecting one of the suggested options - “Dance with wild abandon for 10 minutes” as being too familiar, I have vowed to do “Clutter-clearing for 30 mins per day” for the duration of the commitment.

The criterion I am using to determine whether it stays or it goes are these:

BUSINESS:
Financial – get rid of anything beyond 7 years ago.
Treatment related – get rid of files over 10 years old, unless the client has seen me within the last 10 years.
Active files are those clients who have seen me within the last 2 years.
Files for storage – between the 2 & 10 year period

PERSONAL:
- have I used the item in the last 6 months
- do I love it, appreciate it or does it please me to have it
- Does it have positive associations – do I feel good when I see it. If I feel bad or my energy feels drained out it goes.
- does it represent who I am now or is it simply memory of days gone by (been there done that – bye bye)
- Does it move me towards a future possibility – does it give me a sense of expansion

Although the duration of the program is 28 days, I am doing all 3 levels for each day so triple that = 84 days. Some of the exercises have taken me more than one day. So with an attitude of “it takes what it takes” I’ll be sorting out for more than 3 months guaranteed.

Linn says that de-cluttering resides in the aspect of air and is associated with “clearing mental debris”. Believing that the best beginnings start with good endings, as I release each item I do so with appreciation – for at one time, whether I am conscious of it or not, they served some purpose.

This is taking me on a journey into every nook and cranny of my house both literally and figuratively. It is more than just clearing clutter. Think of it as a Spiritual Detox.

IN. SPAIN.

Well, Mom’s been in the hospital since Sun. She’s 88 years of age and has been diagnosed as having Alzheimer’s for a number of years now; a diagnosis I question, perhaps the term dementia would be more appropriate. But this is a description we “normal” people give to behaviour observed from our own vantage point and points of reference. Even that doesn’t accurately describe the world as she or even we experience it.

The first day in hospital she was very sedate, her body quite still from pain; but during the night it was a different story. Her hands sought out things to grab, usually landing on the IV or catheter tubes or to pull covers and gown off her body. She squirmed around til she was angled at a diagonal on the bed; her legs and feet alternately pushing down it or extending towards the floor, “I just need to get my feet on the ground” she repeated over and over.

I understood. Once, during an extended car trip, experiencing great distress, I said those very words, “Stop. I just need to get my feet on the ground so that I can walk around and feel the earth under my feet, otherwise I feel like I’m getting dizzy and disconnected from everything around me; I might as well be at home watching it on T.V.” I was not surprised when, once she’d maneuvered so that her legs dangled over the side of the bed with her soles hovering over the earth, she became calmer.

I would deflect her arms away from the tubes gently interjecting my hands or arms in the way for her to grasp and move in the air. It seemed to me that her daytime stillness built up such energy in her body that it just needed to move to discharge it while her brain tried to make sense of it all. How often I had experienced physically restless, fitful nights of sleep after 8 hour days of modeling where I’d maintain the same position for hours so that the artists could capture it on the page, canvas or in clay. During some sessions I would “feel” a limb move about in the air or reposition itself only to glance down and see, unbelievably, that it was still in the same position and had been motionless the whole time; only the undisturbed focus of the artists could convince me of that fact.

I later lay beside her that night and I watched her arms flowing movements; reaching to pluck things out of the sky or clear away something blocking her way; folding invisible sheets noticing that, “I think they are dry though maybe they’re still a little damp.”

Both of her arms reach up and she talks of having to get up a staircase that she’s climbing and her legs move up and down in response. And then, after her body has been quiet for a while, and I’ve begun to doze she squeezes my arm “all the neighbours are here, can you see them?” her face brilliantly beautiful, shining in amazement.
“Yes, yes I see them.” they are reflected in her face.
_____________________________________________________________________

It is a few days later. Mom is sitting up in bed after having had a calm and restful night. She is alert and appreciates the beauty of the cut, spring flower arrangement I bring closer to her; flowers sent by her sisters with the note, “with oodles of love”. We even talk a little about Helen and Dot.

Mom’s eldest daughter, my sister, Judi is hiking the Camino in Spain. Jude’s voice was filled with emotion when we finally were able to talk over the phone, I can’t imagine how it would feel to be so far away and unreachable at a time like this. She asks me to relay her love to Mom and this seems like the perfect moment.

“Jude’s walking the Camino,” I say.

Mom seems puzzled; the word Camino probably threw her.

“Jude, Tildy?”

“Yes.” She nods and awaits with great interest the rest the story. Now I can proceed and I do so in a conversational banter.

“Yah, Tildy’s in Spain. She’s hiking, walking a trail called the Camino…”

Mom’s eyes begin to fill with sorrow and her brow furrows. “Oh, that’s so sad. It’s so awful.”

“Awful. No, Mom it’s a good thing.” She looks at me like I’m heartless and I finally twig.

Speaking much more slowly, enunciating as clearly as possible as I hold her gaze, I repeat, “No… Mom… SHE…. IS…. IN… SPAIN… NOT… INSANE… IN… SPAIN.”

Her expression shifts as she takes in what has been said. Then the corners of her eyes begin to crinkle, as do mine, and we break out into hysterical laughter and our hearts become light again.

MANAWA

I’m reading THE POWER OF NOW by Eckart Tolle.

The next morning before getting out of bed I consult the oracle cards JOURNEY TO KANAKA MAKUA as I always do. They are a source of guidance for me; a way to understand how I can make the most of the day. At least that, or some question like it, is the intention I have as I shuffle the cards most mornings.

How can I make the best of this day?

I run the question over and over in my mind; let myself feel and sense the essence of the question as the cards slide over each other with each pass. Sometimes as I shuffle a card will fall out of my hands. Sometimes more than one will. Sometimes as I shuffle it seems as if a card asks to be picked by poking up beyond all the others and just drawing my fingers to it. Sometimes when I feel the cards are ready I fan them out and pass my hand over them and “find” my hand stopping over the card that holds the answer. Other times I divide them into 3 stacks and put them together into one, picking the card that is on the top of the new arrangement.

Sometimes as I shuffle, at the very moment that my mind wanders a card will fall out of my hands or becomes difficult to put into the deck and it is the one that has significance for the “mind stuff” of that very moment – perhaps a “heads up” about what the day may bring or about the type of awareness required of me this day. Then I have to recapture what I was thinking, feeling or sensing; where my awareness was at that moment of lack of focus.

Or, I have been drifting for some time on automatic pilot and the cards scatter like my thoughts and I see a pattern laid out before me reflecting some pattern in my present behaviour which will have ripples throughout the rest of my day.

Sometimes one card doesn’t “feel” complete and I choose more messengers or they choose me; often I don’t know which is the case.

On this day I ask, “How can I make the best of this day?”

I shuffle the cards, keeping my concentration clear and crisp, one rises above and slightly behind the others. My fingers are stuck to it and wouldn’t move.

MANAWA – NOW

Out of all the 49 other cards that I could have picked this one appears! (I just find this so cool and magical!) I am reminded as I live this day that the past is just a memory and the future yet to be though both arise and move through me time and time again with such a painful intensity of emotion that sweeps me away robbing me of the pure joy that resides in each moment. Again and again I bring myself back to all that really exists – this present moment.

Really, as I type the words on the screen, and as you are reading them now ...in...each...fraction... of...each...moment...there resides the opportunity for such clarity that the whole universe, of which we are just a small part, opens up within and around us and we can realize the immensity and power in this "small, mundane" act.