Amin gave a beautiful yoga class yesterday on the differences between classical yoga and tantric yoga.
He asserted that classical yoga, like Astanga, was focused on mindfulness. The focus of the practice is the breathing and keeping the focus of the mind on the breath. The asanas are a means to keep the body busy so that one may focus This is akin to mindfulness meditation. The goal is to cultivate detachment from preconditioning and to learn how to be present in the moment.
In tantric yoga, the focus of the breath is on the difficult areas of the asana. One focuses the mind's eye on stiffness, tightness, discomfort. Prana is directed to these areas to deepen the pose. This builds the habit of understanding that difficulties in life always come with a blessing as well. The difficult poses are often the ones that build strength where we need it - they shore up weaknesses. By concentrating and focusing on them, we learn that pain is not to be avoided but to be embraced and accepted.
In one's life, it is not only the people who support that help, but also the people who criticize or challenge. The latter set of people may have pushed one to try harder, or at the very least provided such an inhospitable environment that one is forced to take drastic action such as changing their life.
Yesterday and again this morning, I realized something in savasana. I have always valued symmetry and comfort in savasana. I have always found it difficult to relax without a blanket, without an eye pillow, with my arms not in similarly symmetric distances and angles from my body. And it bothers me if I am slightly off-center and one hand is further off the mat than the other. These two days I practiced accepting these differences. The fact that they bother me is a challenge: imperfections are part of life and learning to notice the imperfections but not let them bother me is a practice. I am learning to not see them in a negative light, but to recognize their existence, the feelings they evoke, and then accept them and move on. It is a practice that can be applied to life.
It is interesting that so many hatha yoga classes mix these two philosophies which are very different. At once we are told to focus and concentrate on the breath, and again we are told to deepen our poses and concentrate on the difficult areas. I am unconvinced that a mix like this is more helpful than separate yoga practices. Mindfulness meditation deepens with practice and habit. Likewise a true astanga session of 90 minutes with the focus on only the breath brings about a very different sense of being than a typical vinyasa hatha practice. The mind enters a different state. Cultivating awareness and acceptance in a full tantric yoga practice rather than shifting back and forth between the two styles most likely deepens one's practice of love, as well.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Beliefs
The following is a story by Thich Nhat Hanh, from his book Being Peace:
A young widower, who loved his five year old son very much, was away on business, and bandits came, burned down his whole village, and took his son away. When the man returned, he saw the ruins and panicked. He took the charred corpse of an infant to be his own child, and he began to pull his hair and beat his chest, crying uncontrollably. He organized a cremation ceremony, collected the ashes and put them into a very beautiful velvet bag. Working, sleeping, eating, he always carried the bag of ashes with him.
One day his real son escaped from the robbers and found his way home. He arrived at this father's new cottage at midnight , and knocked at the door. You can imagine at that time, the young father was still carrying the bag of ashes, and crying. He asked, "Who is there?" And the child answered, "It's me, Papa. Open the door, it's your son." In his agitated state of mind the father thought that some mischievous boy was making fun of him, and he shouted at the child to go away, and he continued to cry. The boy knocked again and again, but the father refused to let him in. Some time passed, and finally the child left. From that time on, father and son never saw one another. After telling this story, the Buddha said, "Sometime, somewhere you take something to be the truth. If you cling to it so much, when the truth comes in person and knocks at your door, you will not open it." Guarding knowledge is not a good way to understand. Understanding means to throw away your knowledge. You have to be able to transcend your knowledge...understanding is always letting go of our views and knowledge to transcend. This is the most important teaching.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Intimacy Dream
We were in a huge lecture hall - and bidding... bidding on WoW gear. There was the teacher up front, and he had two exceptional sub-rogue daggers. He asked for bids. I knew Christina, who was sitting on my right wanted it, and I bid for her. She bid herself as well. It soon became apparent that 8+ people wanted the daggers. I also realized that many who weren't sub-rogues were bidding. They random rolled the first dagger and a combat rogue picked it up.
I spoke up. Since there was no cost to bidding, anyone could bid, so non sub-rogues were bidding. I asked for a new bid from only sub-rogues. Two of the same hands went up, including Christina's. Three more new hands went up. I realized then that it might not be an upgrade for those three people, so asked again for sub-rogues for whom the dagger was an upgrade. All five hands stayed up. There was momentary confusion.
I knew I continued to be out of place in speaking up, but had to try once more. I asked for only sub rogues who had bid the first time. Finally, it worked. This screened out the non sub-rogues who bid initially, and the later sub-rogues who reacted late. Only one person raised a hand. It wasn't Christina. Everyone in the audience was relieved the bidding had turned out well. The audience started getting up and parting.
My anger surged and turned on her, asking why she didn't bid. She didn't want it anymore.
"It was an enormous upgrade."
"No."
"Whatever," I told her, and stood up with her to walk out. "I may be quitting anyways."
She reacted poorly, and sat back down in a seat. She started crying.
I asked her what happened, and she admitted that she didn't know what to do. She didn't want me to quit. She felt like I would be abandoning her. I asked her about the other men in her life. I don't remember her answer, but it seemed like she said she was noncommittal towards them. I held her in close, kissed her cheek and forehead and neck, holding her, shushing her.
The next thing I know we're in bed, both in a partial state of undress. She sidles up against me, clinging to me, molding her body against me. It is intimate, but we don't kiss, and only intend to sleep. It is a very non-sexual intimacy, like roomates seeking each other for comfort, but this comfort was in the touch of flesh to flesh and bodies embracing each other.
Christina is one of a handful of college friends I haven't found in my recent surge to re-ignite old contacts. She was never that close to me, but we did confide secrets to each other - about relationships and gaming. It is fairly obvious whom she represents. I thought, at first, it was S, but no, S would never have refused to bid like that. It is K who would, and K is the source of all my relationship/intimacy problems recently.
I spoke up. Since there was no cost to bidding, anyone could bid, so non sub-rogues were bidding. I asked for a new bid from only sub-rogues. Two of the same hands went up, including Christina's. Three more new hands went up. I realized then that it might not be an upgrade for those three people, so asked again for sub-rogues for whom the dagger was an upgrade. All five hands stayed up. There was momentary confusion.
I knew I continued to be out of place in speaking up, but had to try once more. I asked for only sub rogues who had bid the first time. Finally, it worked. This screened out the non sub-rogues who bid initially, and the later sub-rogues who reacted late. Only one person raised a hand. It wasn't Christina. Everyone in the audience was relieved the bidding had turned out well. The audience started getting up and parting.
My anger surged and turned on her, asking why she didn't bid. She didn't want it anymore.
"It was an enormous upgrade."
"No."
"Whatever," I told her, and stood up with her to walk out. "I may be quitting anyways."
She reacted poorly, and sat back down in a seat. She started crying.
I asked her what happened, and she admitted that she didn't know what to do. She didn't want me to quit. She felt like I would be abandoning her. I asked her about the other men in her life. I don't remember her answer, but it seemed like she said she was noncommittal towards them. I held her in close, kissed her cheek and forehead and neck, holding her, shushing her.
The next thing I know we're in bed, both in a partial state of undress. She sidles up against me, clinging to me, molding her body against me. It is intimate, but we don't kiss, and only intend to sleep. It is a very non-sexual intimacy, like roomates seeking each other for comfort, but this comfort was in the touch of flesh to flesh and bodies embracing each other.
Christina is one of a handful of college friends I haven't found in my recent surge to re-ignite old contacts. She was never that close to me, but we did confide secrets to each other - about relationships and gaming. It is fairly obvious whom she represents. I thought, at first, it was S, but no, S would never have refused to bid like that. It is K who would, and K is the source of all my relationship/intimacy problems recently.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Blogging as an outlet for sleep
I've been going through so much emotional upheaval lately that I've been having problems falling asleep. Firstly, I stay up way too late due to more pressing relationship priorities. Secondly, once I do attempt to fall asleep, it doesn't come.
What happens to me when I lie there, unable to sleep. My mind spins at 100 rpm. It wanders through all the various thoughts, emotions, goals, failures, successes of the day.
I have a hypothesis that if I get up and write it all out, my mind will be at peace. So, tonight, if I lay my head on my pillow and fail to sleep, then I will get up and write, then go back to sleep. Hopefully dreamless bliss will then overtake me.
What happens to me when I lie there, unable to sleep. My mind spins at 100 rpm. It wanders through all the various thoughts, emotions, goals, failures, successes of the day.
I have a hypothesis that if I get up and write it all out, my mind will be at peace. So, tonight, if I lay my head on my pillow and fail to sleep, then I will get up and write, then go back to sleep. Hopefully dreamless bliss will then overtake me.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Torrential downpour
Southern California is deluged. Tornados, floods, thunderstorms. As it rains upon the earth, my emotions have chosen to rain upon my soul. I feel detached, brooding, emotionally wrung out. So much has coursed through my mind and my heart in the past 24-48 hours, I do not even know where to begin. And so I will begin with the present.
A liquid shuddering starts in my diaphragm, moves up through the leftside of my chest, running through my heart, up my neck, and out the top of my head. The emotions lie there... having been expressed, having overwhelmed, and having no closure. Tears well up in my eyes. I mourn my brother. He should not have left 11 years ago.We were destined on this earth to be together - born two years apart - playmates... who should've grown into touchstones for each other as we navigate this Earth. I cried back then... woke in the middle of the night crying in grief ... bawled in the dewey grass of his grave one year later cursing my abandonment, hating the loss. I don't want to lose my sister - my best friend.
Deep, shuddering breaths... collecting myself - semblance. thought. I'm overreacting - I want, no need, to bring her to happiness. I've experienced such highs this week - and I know the agony of the lows she's in. That was my goal. It was slowly planted there throughout the budding of our friendship - friends help each other out. It was expressed in words scarcely more than a week ago - I would pull her along with me on my journey. It crystallized two days ago late at night - I would help her heal herself like I healed and help her experience happiness. Prior to that night it was simply to help and encourage, now it's to heal.
Since the break of the new year, I've metamorphized. Twenty days, and I've experienced such bliss - and come to touch true happiness. I've never been happy before. Now I am. In this same span, she's gotten steadily worse. Each one of my steps forward has been a step backwards for her. As I advance, she retreats. We marched in lockstep once upon a time. Now I look back and can barely see her at the end of the horizon, the lifeline between us stretched taut to the point of breaking. Indeed, it is fraying and everytime I pull, more individual fibers unravel.
Enough metaphors. The facts. I came home from a blissful experience last night. Something wondrous, ethereal, gossamer. She had missed me while I was gone, and wouldn't talk when I got back. She had wanted to play WoW, but I was away. And besides, scarcely hours earlier I had decided that I was done enabling the escapism that it represented for her, and would try and help her back on her own two feet directly. I told her such, but she never wants to talk about such - about her emotions - her situation - where to go - what to do. I know the feeling - facing any of it feels like a mountain coming down upon you - there is no light at the end of the tunnel, in fact there is no tunnel. the earth is collapsing on top of you and the air is siphoning away. Yet I pressed her anyways, and she withdrew even more.
Why must I press knowing that she will withdraw? Perchance a small hope that my words will sink in and she might listen - perhaps I'm desperate and don't know what else I can do.
She said she didn't want to talk about it - that she was going to give up. She would go give up her life to another and let him tell her what to do. Just last week, she had confided that it wasn't the life she wanted - it was a life she knew she could grow accustomed to - a life she could settle for, but not something she wanted, and certainly not a life of her own choosing. I became frantic, desperate - enraged, furious, pleading.
Looking back now, I believe that my brother's death influenced me. During the evening I had allowed myself to feel grief for him for the first time in years, and I was suddenly confronted with another loss in my life. No, she wouldn't commit suicide, but I felt like she was committing spiritual suicide. Hence, my overreaction.
She was on the phone with him, and could only type to me. My emotions raw, eating away at me. I needed her to understand how I felt - needed to hear the authenticity of her voice, the tenor and tone that would belie the truth beneath her words. I raged, and she relented. Now I could hear her voice, and she could rage back at me. This was her life, her decisions... why am I interfering? If she choses to deal with her state by escapism, then I shouldn't lecture, I shouldn't preach.
I'm sorry - I know the solace of pushing everything away. I just don't want the mountain to suffocate you. I don't want to look up one day and see you gone. That's why I'm trying to pull you up. Trying to give you air to breathe, trying to find you another route. But denial and escapism enshrouds you. If you refuse to see the tunnels I'm trying to carve for you, then you don't have to hope, and don't have to see the rest of the mountain.
We argue. I am timid. I try and be strong. I am afraid of losing her. She explains that her decision won't jeopardize my visit in two months. How can it not? If she moves with him, it will be after. I had thought it would be immediate. No, he's trying to protect her, too. He wants a safe haven for her like I do. A place where she can heal and grow. We are two sides of the same coin, he and I. At least it seems that way. But only one side can face up. Where is the difference? I tell her I don't want a romance. I have just healed and am learning to walk again and exploring the limits of my healed body. She is still wounded and bleeding. I know the sorrows of a codependent relationship - it is not something I will ever allow myself to enter again. He wants her to live with him, to raise his son with him. So that's the difference we propose. Am I disillusioned to think that my offer is better? I love her and yet deny my love through reason. Can I really give her the space she needs to grow? Can she really heal better without the romantic attachment to another to spur that healing? Am I right to think the romance will warp the healing into enmeshment?
I concede, and we retire for the night. Awkward and stilted. She wants to talk to him before he sleeps. As she talks to him, she offers to play Second Life with me. Desperate and craving, I agree. I need to sleep, my whole body is telling me such, but I need her more.
Second Life is something awkward, yet refreshing. But it is far past my bedtime, and every moment that passes my body is telling me to sleep, and I don't value the time in game as much as I value the time spent talking. Wow. Therein lies a truth I did not see. I stayed up late the night before helping my cousin. I loved myself for that, and it empowered me, despite my lack of energy and sleepiness the day after. Was it that much later than the night before? No. And yes, two nights in a row is more difficult, but it was more than that. My own prejudice taints the activity. I feel the activity is not as healing. I should know better. By my own healing and history, I should know better. I do find some small solace in the places we visit. She talks to me by voice again. My heart sings. We talk and explore and some small contentment seeps into my heart. She needs to go for a bit, I tell her I'm going to sleep.
I couldn't sleep. Agony and anxiety ripped at me. Clawed their way deep into me. I resolved to tell her how I felt. It was unfair that she confided in him before me. It was unfair that she makes time for him and not for me. It was unfair that she chose to spend time talking to him and the only time she wanted to spend with me was to escape. I worried for her. I felt her drifting away and didn't know what to do, and I needed to stop it. I ... I didn't know anymore. I only knew the anguish.
She came back, and fear gripped me again. She doesn't want to talk about these things. But I need to tell her how I feel, right? It's not about her, it's about me. But it is about her, too. It's about us. Talking would drive her away. Admission makes me vulnerable. What if she didn't care that I felt hurt?
Hence courage comes first... we talked. More upheavals, but at least an understanding at the end.We play more; we make tentative plans. I understand how hard it is for her to keep plans as she is. I wake this morning. I let myself sleep late. 1pm meditation. She's put it in the calendar. My heart glows. My own anxiety. How can I do yoga and shop and be back in 2 hours? I will not abandon her. I must be back. What do I sacrifice from myself to do this?
She is still awake? She did not sleep? My brow furrows in consternation. Yet her sleep schedule is fucked. I know this, and she's awake - she's trying to fix it. I tell her my time problems, and she gives me wisdom. Wisdom that I should have known but couldn't access. The yoga is optional - especially the yoga class. The 21 day challenge puts a superficial veneer on it that adds expectation and pressure that, although supposedly to encourage, can also promote desperation, pressure, and unreasonable expectation. I agree and go shopping.
On the way back, I call her. All those times she dialed me driving to and from work - I need to talk to her more. She didn't answer. Was she asleep? Pulling into the garage, past the doorstep, to my computer. She is barely awake, but wants to sleep. Meditation in 20 minutes? No answer. I understand, and I love her for it. My best wishes go out to her, sleeping snug, enraptured away from the troubles of reality. I leave her a note to sleep through the night if she can. I hope she will. I dream that she will be up when I am up tomorrow morning, and that we can connect once again on that same wavelength we once shared .... two souls connected and tied together before either one even knew what happened.
A liquid shuddering starts in my diaphragm, moves up through the leftside of my chest, running through my heart, up my neck, and out the top of my head. The emotions lie there... having been expressed, having overwhelmed, and having no closure. Tears well up in my eyes. I mourn my brother. He should not have left 11 years ago.We were destined on this earth to be together - born two years apart - playmates... who should've grown into touchstones for each other as we navigate this Earth. I cried back then... woke in the middle of the night crying in grief ... bawled in the dewey grass of his grave one year later cursing my abandonment, hating the loss. I don't want to lose my sister - my best friend.
Deep, shuddering breaths... collecting myself - semblance. thought. I'm overreacting - I want, no need, to bring her to happiness. I've experienced such highs this week - and I know the agony of the lows she's in. That was my goal. It was slowly planted there throughout the budding of our friendship - friends help each other out. It was expressed in words scarcely more than a week ago - I would pull her along with me on my journey. It crystallized two days ago late at night - I would help her heal herself like I healed and help her experience happiness. Prior to that night it was simply to help and encourage, now it's to heal.
Since the break of the new year, I've metamorphized. Twenty days, and I've experienced such bliss - and come to touch true happiness. I've never been happy before. Now I am. In this same span, she's gotten steadily worse. Each one of my steps forward has been a step backwards for her. As I advance, she retreats. We marched in lockstep once upon a time. Now I look back and can barely see her at the end of the horizon, the lifeline between us stretched taut to the point of breaking. Indeed, it is fraying and everytime I pull, more individual fibers unravel.
Enough metaphors. The facts. I came home from a blissful experience last night. Something wondrous, ethereal, gossamer. She had missed me while I was gone, and wouldn't talk when I got back. She had wanted to play WoW, but I was away. And besides, scarcely hours earlier I had decided that I was done enabling the escapism that it represented for her, and would try and help her back on her own two feet directly. I told her such, but she never wants to talk about such - about her emotions - her situation - where to go - what to do. I know the feeling - facing any of it feels like a mountain coming down upon you - there is no light at the end of the tunnel, in fact there is no tunnel. the earth is collapsing on top of you and the air is siphoning away. Yet I pressed her anyways, and she withdrew even more.
Why must I press knowing that she will withdraw? Perchance a small hope that my words will sink in and she might listen - perhaps I'm desperate and don't know what else I can do.
She said she didn't want to talk about it - that she was going to give up. She would go give up her life to another and let him tell her what to do. Just last week, she had confided that it wasn't the life she wanted - it was a life she knew she could grow accustomed to - a life she could settle for, but not something she wanted, and certainly not a life of her own choosing. I became frantic, desperate - enraged, furious, pleading.
Looking back now, I believe that my brother's death influenced me. During the evening I had allowed myself to feel grief for him for the first time in years, and I was suddenly confronted with another loss in my life. No, she wouldn't commit suicide, but I felt like she was committing spiritual suicide. Hence, my overreaction.
She was on the phone with him, and could only type to me. My emotions raw, eating away at me. I needed her to understand how I felt - needed to hear the authenticity of her voice, the tenor and tone that would belie the truth beneath her words. I raged, and she relented. Now I could hear her voice, and she could rage back at me. This was her life, her decisions... why am I interfering? If she choses to deal with her state by escapism, then I shouldn't lecture, I shouldn't preach.
I'm sorry - I know the solace of pushing everything away. I just don't want the mountain to suffocate you. I don't want to look up one day and see you gone. That's why I'm trying to pull you up. Trying to give you air to breathe, trying to find you another route. But denial and escapism enshrouds you. If you refuse to see the tunnels I'm trying to carve for you, then you don't have to hope, and don't have to see the rest of the mountain.
We argue. I am timid. I try and be strong. I am afraid of losing her. She explains that her decision won't jeopardize my visit in two months. How can it not? If she moves with him, it will be after. I had thought it would be immediate. No, he's trying to protect her, too. He wants a safe haven for her like I do. A place where she can heal and grow. We are two sides of the same coin, he and I. At least it seems that way. But only one side can face up. Where is the difference? I tell her I don't want a romance. I have just healed and am learning to walk again and exploring the limits of my healed body. She is still wounded and bleeding. I know the sorrows of a codependent relationship - it is not something I will ever allow myself to enter again. He wants her to live with him, to raise his son with him. So that's the difference we propose. Am I disillusioned to think that my offer is better? I love her and yet deny my love through reason. Can I really give her the space she needs to grow? Can she really heal better without the romantic attachment to another to spur that healing? Am I right to think the romance will warp the healing into enmeshment?
I concede, and we retire for the night. Awkward and stilted. She wants to talk to him before he sleeps. As she talks to him, she offers to play Second Life with me. Desperate and craving, I agree. I need to sleep, my whole body is telling me such, but I need her more.
Second Life is something awkward, yet refreshing. But it is far past my bedtime, and every moment that passes my body is telling me to sleep, and I don't value the time in game as much as I value the time spent talking. Wow. Therein lies a truth I did not see. I stayed up late the night before helping my cousin. I loved myself for that, and it empowered me, despite my lack of energy and sleepiness the day after. Was it that much later than the night before? No. And yes, two nights in a row is more difficult, but it was more than that. My own prejudice taints the activity. I feel the activity is not as healing. I should know better. By my own healing and history, I should know better. I do find some small solace in the places we visit. She talks to me by voice again. My heart sings. We talk and explore and some small contentment seeps into my heart. She needs to go for a bit, I tell her I'm going to sleep.
I couldn't sleep. Agony and anxiety ripped at me. Clawed their way deep into me. I resolved to tell her how I felt. It was unfair that she confided in him before me. It was unfair that she makes time for him and not for me. It was unfair that she chose to spend time talking to him and the only time she wanted to spend with me was to escape. I worried for her. I felt her drifting away and didn't know what to do, and I needed to stop it. I ... I didn't know anymore. I only knew the anguish.
She came back, and fear gripped me again. She doesn't want to talk about these things. But I need to tell her how I feel, right? It's not about her, it's about me. But it is about her, too. It's about us. Talking would drive her away. Admission makes me vulnerable. What if she didn't care that I felt hurt?
Hence courage comes first... we talked. More upheavals, but at least an understanding at the end.We play more; we make tentative plans. I understand how hard it is for her to keep plans as she is. I wake this morning. I let myself sleep late. 1pm meditation. She's put it in the calendar. My heart glows. My own anxiety. How can I do yoga and shop and be back in 2 hours? I will not abandon her. I must be back. What do I sacrifice from myself to do this?
She is still awake? She did not sleep? My brow furrows in consternation. Yet her sleep schedule is fucked. I know this, and she's awake - she's trying to fix it. I tell her my time problems, and she gives me wisdom. Wisdom that I should have known but couldn't access. The yoga is optional - especially the yoga class. The 21 day challenge puts a superficial veneer on it that adds expectation and pressure that, although supposedly to encourage, can also promote desperation, pressure, and unreasonable expectation. I agree and go shopping.
On the way back, I call her. All those times she dialed me driving to and from work - I need to talk to her more. She didn't answer. Was she asleep? Pulling into the garage, past the doorstep, to my computer. She is barely awake, but wants to sleep. Meditation in 20 minutes? No answer. I understand, and I love her for it. My best wishes go out to her, sleeping snug, enraptured away from the troubles of reality. I leave her a note to sleep through the night if she can. I hope she will. I dream that she will be up when I am up tomorrow morning, and that we can connect once again on that same wavelength we once shared .... two souls connected and tied together before either one even knew what happened.
Community Darshan
I went to something called a Darshan on Tuesday. It was an amazing experience. There was a group of 8 people who each took turns sitting on a shrine of sorts. When you were on the shrine, your job was to engage each person and lock gazes with them for about 60 seconds or so, in turn. That person was to then write down and remember what they saw in you, expressing it as "I am XXXX." So each person sat there, and spent a minute or so, looking at everyone else... and when you weren't sitting on there, you were watching, watching the person on the shrine locking gazes with someone else, and then with you... and then you experience the gaze, and write down your own thoughts.
The feedback, however, is self-referential. It is expressed as "I am ...", not "You are ..." Why? Because our perception of others is inevitably colored by our perception of ourselves... by our moods, feelings, philosophy, insecurity... What we think and judge in another person is different than what a third person would think and judge of that same person. So in essence, our judgements and what we see in other people is as much or more a reflection of ourselves than of other people. And the exercise illuminates that. People recite out what they saw and observed at the end, and the self-reflection is glaringly obvious. Yes, multiple people will say similar things about one person who sat on the shrine, but even more so, one person will have observations about many different people that all have a similar feel.
The feedback was not all positive. You were supposed to write whatever you felt or saw about the person on the shrine, positive or negative. In truth, the 8 people gathered there were all of a like-mindset - so most of the comments were positive. Some people had 100% positive comments, and other people had mostly insightful, descriptive comments, but there were a handful of negative comments, and of those, most were less judgmental, and more descriptive/observational.
The practice can be done in a different manner, as well. One participant said she had participated in a gathering where they spoke the feelings as they felt them, and directly to the other person, not in a self-referential manner. She described the gathering as very raw and emotional.
People were inspired by me last night, which I find ... very difficult to comprehend and accept. I have been mired in such an inconsequential self-image for so long that to think that people could meet me and be inspired by what I'm doing - my actions and talk - is incongruous with my world-frame. I am a participant, and I am learning from others. There is a shift there wherein I not only participate but also lead, where I not only learn but also teach.
I have had roles in the past where I have done both - I have taught in university classrooms - I have lead a guild. But this was an interpersonal, social setting - and their words caught me entirely by surprise. I was honored.
My journey has been a very personal one. It's one I never expected. This juice feast - I'm on day 12 now - has been tulmultuous and cathartic... It's changed (I haven't written about this yet) into a treatment for my psoriasis into something much more than that. It's become the beginning of a journey. But it's a very personal journey, and it's my own. I've known that with the insight and wisdom and experience I've gained even from just these past two weeks, I can help, advise, and influence others. I just never expected that the influence would come without effort - that by simply talking to people, I could inspire them. I am a deeply flawed person, still, and that I could walk into a room and tell them about my life and they would be touched is incongruous.
The feedback, however, is self-referential. It is expressed as "I am ...", not "You are ..." Why? Because our perception of others is inevitably colored by our perception of ourselves... by our moods, feelings, philosophy, insecurity... What we think and judge in another person is different than what a third person would think and judge of that same person. So in essence, our judgements and what we see in other people is as much or more a reflection of ourselves than of other people. And the exercise illuminates that. People recite out what they saw and observed at the end, and the self-reflection is glaringly obvious. Yes, multiple people will say similar things about one person who sat on the shrine, but even more so, one person will have observations about many different people that all have a similar feel.
The feedback was not all positive. You were supposed to write whatever you felt or saw about the person on the shrine, positive or negative. In truth, the 8 people gathered there were all of a like-mindset - so most of the comments were positive. Some people had 100% positive comments, and other people had mostly insightful, descriptive comments, but there were a handful of negative comments, and of those, most were less judgmental, and more descriptive/observational.
The practice can be done in a different manner, as well. One participant said she had participated in a gathering where they spoke the feelings as they felt them, and directly to the other person, not in a self-referential manner. She described the gathering as very raw and emotional.
People were inspired by me last night, which I find ... very difficult to comprehend and accept. I have been mired in such an inconsequential self-image for so long that to think that people could meet me and be inspired by what I'm doing - my actions and talk - is incongruous with my world-frame. I am a participant, and I am learning from others. There is a shift there wherein I not only participate but also lead, where I not only learn but also teach.
I have had roles in the past where I have done both - I have taught in university classrooms - I have lead a guild. But this was an interpersonal, social setting - and their words caught me entirely by surprise. I was honored.
My journey has been a very personal one. It's one I never expected. This juice feast - I'm on day 12 now - has been tulmultuous and cathartic... It's changed (I haven't written about this yet) into a treatment for my psoriasis into something much more than that. It's become the beginning of a journey. But it's a very personal journey, and it's my own. I've known that with the insight and wisdom and experience I've gained even from just these past two weeks, I can help, advise, and influence others. I just never expected that the influence would come without effort - that by simply talking to people, I could inspire them. I am a deeply flawed person, still, and that I could walk into a room and tell them about my life and they would be touched is incongruous.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
The twists and turns of life and fate befall me
The past few days have been filled with elation, upheaval, turmoil, love, catharsis, and healing.
Just as the rains have deluged California, so have emotions deluged me. These last 3 days have been a hurricane, and I have been buffeted about. Miraculously, I think I have come through alive and well. The juice feast is an emotional healing as well as a physical one, and old scars have been ripped open to be redressed and to heal correctly. Suppressed secrets and desires have surfaced to wreak havoc, but exposed to the light of consciousness, they lose their power and wither. Acceptance helps immensely. Acceptance and courage. Courage to tell the truth, no matter your fears, and the courage to face ugliness.
Stay tuned... I will post more in a little bit.
Just as the rains have deluged California, so have emotions deluged me. These last 3 days have been a hurricane, and I have been buffeted about. Miraculously, I think I have come through alive and well. The juice feast is an emotional healing as well as a physical one, and old scars have been ripped open to be redressed and to heal correctly. Suppressed secrets and desires have surfaced to wreak havoc, but exposed to the light of consciousness, they lose their power and wither. Acceptance helps immensely. Acceptance and courage. Courage to tell the truth, no matter your fears, and the courage to face ugliness.
Stay tuned... I will post more in a little bit.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The difference between laziness and self-acceptance
A reader asked:
I accept that I did not achieve a goal and did not accomplish something I wanted to. That is ok, and I still love myself despite that. When something is in the past, there is no use punishing yourself for it. So accept it, soften, and embrace yourself for everything you did accomplish.
I do not accept that I will not achieve my goals in the future. I will not be lazy. That is, in fact, a poor way of saying it. It is better to say I will be proactive and energetic in achieving what I want.That is the future. Do not accept failure in the future, so feel free to press yourself as hard as you want for things you intend to accomplish and do in your life.
Laziness is a state of being that predicts the future. The fact that I didn't finish the last page of my thesis tonight wasn't laziness. It was fact. It's also fact that I did finish 3 pages before that last page.
Laziness would be "I don't intend to finish that last page the rest of this week because I can be easy on myself." That's an attitude about the future that's counterproductive.
So, once again. Once things are past, and you can't control them, accept mistakes and forgive yourself. Soften. For the future, do not be lazy - be proactive - be energetic - strive to get things done.
Another way to put this is: "Don't dwell on the past and on things you can't control. Think about what you can control and what you will do next."
What's the balance between not being to hard on yourself and allowing yourself to be lazy?That's a fantastic question, and I think the answer lies understanding the difference between your actions in the past vs. your actions in the future. Softening is good for the past. Energy (the opposite of laziness) is good for the future.
I accept that I did not achieve a goal and did not accomplish something I wanted to. That is ok, and I still love myself despite that. When something is in the past, there is no use punishing yourself for it. So accept it, soften, and embrace yourself for everything you did accomplish.
I do not accept that I will not achieve my goals in the future. I will not be lazy. That is, in fact, a poor way of saying it. It is better to say I will be proactive and energetic in achieving what I want.That is the future. Do not accept failure in the future, so feel free to press yourself as hard as you want for things you intend to accomplish and do in your life.
Laziness is a state of being that predicts the future. The fact that I didn't finish the last page of my thesis tonight wasn't laziness. It was fact. It's also fact that I did finish 3 pages before that last page.
Laziness would be "I don't intend to finish that last page the rest of this week because I can be easy on myself." That's an attitude about the future that's counterproductive.
So, once again. Once things are past, and you can't control them, accept mistakes and forgive yourself. Soften. For the future, do not be lazy - be proactive - be energetic - strive to get things done.
Another way to put this is: "Don't dwell on the past and on things you can't control. Think about what you can control and what you will do next."
80/20 Rule and Time Management
From Wikipedia:
The Pareto principle (also known as the 80-20 rule,[1] the law of the vital few, and the principle of factor sparsity) states that, for many events, roughly 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes.
One of the things I'm trying to do right now is manage my time. I find myself deluged with all the obligations of the juice feast concurrent with maintaining two blogs all while trying to finish my degree. I realized this morning that all of these should fall under the 80/20 rule. I don't need any of these to be perfect. I only need them to be @ 80% proficiency. I have spent so much time on my thesis and my publications that at this point, getting 80% of what remains finished will be enough to push the thesis and the publications out the door. In my juice feast, I am trying to maximize everything I could possibly do to make the juice feast as optimal as possible while trying to cure my psoriasis. That's not necessary. The feast is so incredibly good for me and my body that doing 80% of what I could ideally achieve will be enough to send my psoriasis into remission (maybe not as quickly as 100%, but I can give up a couple weeks). This blog, understanding myself, and my emotional/spiritual evolution is critical to me. But the steps I've been taking and the writing I've been doing don't have to be perfect. They, too can be 80% effective.
I have concluded that spending 20% effort to achieve all three of these at 80% effectiveness will be optimal and will empower me to achieve these goals at this point in my life. I can roughly divide my available day into 20% chunks. In 24 hours, I reserve 8 hours for sleep, getting to sleep, and getting up. That leaves 16 hours. From the remaining 16 hours, I reserve 10% for upkeep and maintenance time. What does that mean? That is time lost from switching tasks, answering phones, checking calendars, etc. It happens constantly and has a low level deleterious effect on activity. This may be overcompensating a bit, but that works. Out of the remaining 14.4 hours, I reserve 2 hours for playtime - goofing off time. This leaves ~12.5 hours, or 5 chunks of 2.5 hours each. These are my productive hours during the day. 2 chunks will be devoted to my thesis and graduation. 2 chunks will be devoted to my health and well-being. 1 chunk will be devoted to this blog, self-empowerment, and cultivating relationships I need in my life.
Thesis and graduation is easy and straightforward - it will be time spent on research, communication, writing to advance towards my degree. This includes travel time on days I have to travel. I should devote a total of 35 hours a week towards this. Health and well-being is also straightforward. These are the life practices and juice feasting I need in order to heal my body and soul. This includes blogging time on Psoriasis Juice Feast, juicing itself, life practices, shopping, and research/reading. The final chunk includes this blog. It includes time spent on facebook cultivating relationships. It also includes time spent on self-empowerment and improvement. I want to make this blog more about self-empowerment. I will be posting about this shortly (when I have time alotted by this system), but I am finding that one of the things that is dawning upon me is how much control I have over the myriad facets of my life, and how I direct my attention and energy. This will be one of the topics I shall cover in this blog.
These are all ballpark and flexible times. But they are goals and guidelines for the week. Time, of course, must be averaged, so one day I may spend up to 10 hours on health, and only 3-4 hours for the next 3-4 days. These guidelines will also be flexible. These figures are simply drawn in pencil and if they don't fit my actual needs, I will adjust them.
The key insight with this post is that I don't need to perfect anything - I need to look at the big picture and understand what I'm doing with my life - and to spend my time accordingly.
Softening Goals
Understanding and love for myself requires patience in achievement of goals. Everything in life is cyclical, and achievement no less. Some days there will be too many things to do and even the smallest, easiest goal can go undone. This is no reason to be angry, mad, or reproachful of oneself. Accept what you have done and move on. Tomorrow is another day and you will achieve everything you want in time.
Creative Dynamo
Holy shit. I'm not quite sure what happened, but my mind has been a creative dynamo all morning. I have a million ideas jangling around inside my head atm. Here's a quick list of them, and then I'll start breaking things down in depth in later blog posts.
(1) 80/20 rule and time management: 1 part blog/self-empowerment, 2 parts thesis, 2 parts healing, after maintenance and upkeep. Long-term project time-management - chunking blocks of time.
(2) Blogging Self-Empowerment
(3) Self-help for the Scientist
(4) Spirituality for the Atheist
(5) Tell mom about NYE. Understanding acceptance, fear, doubt, and shame.
(6) Goal: Understanding the connection between self-help and spirituality
(7) Goal: Understanding the link between neuroscience and spirituality, neuroscience and self-help.
(8) Self-improvement: daily baby steps and changes.
(9) Psoriasis, Depression, and Shame.
(10) Goals: Societal changes: Self-empowerment needs to be taught in the educational system. Self-empowerment needs to be part of the welfare system.
(11) Psoriasis: Understanding the Feast as an evolving Hero's Journey with changing goals.
(12) Psoriasis Healing: the role of topicals, self-empowerment, and positive energy.
(13) Seduction: Understanding the seduction literature as self-empowerment.
(1) 80/20 rule and time management: 1 part blog/self-empowerment, 2 parts thesis, 2 parts healing, after maintenance and upkeep. Long-term project time-management - chunking blocks of time.
(2) Blogging Self-Empowerment
(3) Self-help for the Scientist
(4) Spirituality for the Atheist
(5) Tell mom about NYE. Understanding acceptance, fear, doubt, and shame.
(6) Goal: Understanding the connection between self-help and spirituality
(7) Goal: Understanding the link between neuroscience and spirituality, neuroscience and self-help.
(8) Self-improvement: daily baby steps and changes.
(9) Psoriasis, Depression, and Shame.
(10) Goals: Societal changes: Self-empowerment needs to be taught in the educational system. Self-empowerment needs to be part of the welfare system.
(11) Psoriasis: Understanding the Feast as an evolving Hero's Journey with changing goals.
(12) Psoriasis Healing: the role of topicals, self-empowerment, and positive energy.
(13) Seduction: Understanding the seduction literature as self-empowerment.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
How inrtpoamt is sleniplg?
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer inwaht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas thought slpeling was ipmorantt.
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