violet umbrella

Time. Just when I think it no longer exists, it stops; Against a wall I crash; Into the realization that more than a meager measure of minutes, it is a cunning calculator of change. Elevated for a single breathtaking glimpse of the horizons of the divine plan, and then falling back in faith that the story is, indeed, written all by the same hand.

And I knew Time wasn’t linear, but who knew that in circles we could travel so far? So I follow the loop, and go forward, back; To a minute captured in ink, at the entrance to the Jokhang, in Lhasa, Tibet.

April 4th, 2005
Journal Entry

Mind, Speech, and Body. Thought, Word, and Heart. Pilgrims in their most intimate surrender, on all sides, surround. Full body prostrations humble egos insistent on standing, solemnly to the ground. Men and women. Rich and poor. Ignorant of race, sex and class is the number of miles we each must walk, simply to fall on Humility’s floor. Instructed then, to yes please enter, but leave the life we’ve walked in, with the pile of shoes at the door.

I thought I came to observe, but I’ve quickly become the observed. A man squats, telephoto lens, no bush to beat and without blush, snapping shots of the pale girl sitting in the street. Obviously odd for her square and muted clothes, she scripts in matching block letters, acting innocent of being noticed.

And to whom and what of, does she write? I look through his lens and wonder too. It seems a very Western obsession to wander back and forth between past observation and future expression; Over- and under- analyzing segments of time that no longer or yet exist, instead of simply experiencing the moment of “now” naked and as it is.

An ancient Tibetan man, with a smile a lifetime younger, spins a prayer wheel in his right hand as he extends to me in his left, a customary gesture of welcome. I smile back, and his eyes they glow. A mirror flashes as recognition catches, before a gust of wind starts time again and blows; In a blink, back down the veil falls over his eyes, with a final teasing wink testifying to the truth of our oneness that he knows.

Square shadows of square shoulders cast square shade upon my ground, as a group surrounds me in the suits and caps traditional to the men of Tibet’s region, Kham. In low dusty voices they chatter, scratch chins, point fingers and finally decide my activity no longer worth their banter. The cloud of their presence passes, and I find myself for the first in many minutes, in observer absence.

I poke my head out from the cover I’ve taken in paper and pen…

Mind, speech and body. Thought, word and heart. The prostrating pilgrims keep in rhythm with the small hand of a clock. Suddenly aware, for the first time, of my own looming shadow over them, I slap myself for ignorantly assuming I had a right to sit here and witness these intimate acts of devotion and submission.

I turn just in time to see, in front of a barred window, a small monk in signature maroon robes. In one hand he holds a violet sun umbrella that he reaches up into the air as he grabs onto the bars to help lift himself up onto his toes. (I know the window, for I’ve peeked through it too, and know that thousands of prayer-lit butter lamps present a very peek-worthy view.) And again the mirror flashes and blinds me with a body swapping vision of myself; Small girl, eager toes, an understanding shaded by the big umbrella of all she thinks she knows. Stretching up, peeking in, through the barred window of her severely limited perception.

I scribble incomplete and run-on sentences in an attempt to comprehend it all, but am stopped by my own smile, when the violet star-shaped shadow wanders from the window and upon my journal falls.

*****

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walking with Jesus and Buddha

Once upon a time I fell in love with Christianity.

I went to church twice a week and made the sign of the cross each time I went down on my knees. I memorized and repeated prayers as I counted through my rosary’s beads. I sang songs in the choir and lit candles around the alter and I bowed my head before each high hanging porcelain sculpture of the savior. I confessed and repented each of my sins, wore a cross around my neck, and read the Bible from cover to cover.

But I had questions; Why can God only speak through men from behind the alter? And why, in exchange for my blessing, must every practitioner of differing faith be damned? And if Jesus taught us to treat each neighbor as our self, then why are there exceptions if he is black, poor, Muslim, female, or speaks a language we don’t understand? And if any act can be forgiven, why have we never apologized (or even recognized) the trail of blood that bought and brought the conversion of Christianity to the Americas?

Christianity put a finger to its lips and hushed me.

So I turned my back, and walked away.

*

And then one day I met Buddhism.

I was told, “Take only what you need, and anything you don’t like just leave,” and then thought to myself, “Now here’s a religion in which I can respectfully believe!”

So I went to the temples, clasped my hands and bowed, or even made rounds of full body prostrations to humble myself to the ground. I counted on the beads of my mala repetitions of Tibetan mantras memorized (only as I knew them) as segments of sound. I adopted the 8-fold path into my daily life and was careful to always circumambulate in only directions clockwise. I lit butter lamps and participated in pujas and made mindful walking meditations around towering white stupas. I meditated hour after hour cross-legged on a cushion, wore an eternal knot around my neck, and studied the ancient Sanskrit sutras.

But I had questions; If the female form is equivalent in power for progress towards enlightenment, then why do all the high lamas reincarnate only as men? And if Buddha did not want anyone to sculpt his image for praise, then why do we meditate with visualizations of him with a crown on his head, his body high upon a throne raised? And if all sentient beings are created and respected as the same, then why is a “perfect rebirth” into the human realm considered supreme? And if unattachment to the physical is a true precept of this religion, then why do we circumambulate ornate stupas painted in gold flake and housing relics of old lamas from whose bones appear pearls? And if Buddha promised us the path to enlightenment could be attained entirely from direct experience, then why does Buddhism prescribe a disciplined routine of prostrations, meditations, circumambulations and memorizations?

Buddhism shrugged its shoulders, smiled softly and said, “Fine then. Find your own way.”

*

So I took a deep breath and, once again, heaved my pack upon my back. Taking pursuit of my own trail knowing not what would lie ahead but quite happy to leave all I had learned “I’m not” in the past. And as I stepped back in alignment with personal truth, direct experience, unattachment, meditation and mindfulness, I, for the first time, looked down to see that the path was littered with a million dusty footprints of evidence. Yes! Imprints of feet, from a thousand past pilgrims, that all faced forward in one direction forming a one-way path for those for whom returning wasn’t an intention.

And suddenly I felt soft hands slip into the left and right of mine, and a secret whispered softly in two voices of kind;

In the left…

“Between my words and the Bible exists a great void, which everyone moved quickly to fill forgetting that in stillness is my voice.”

In the right…

“And the Sutras I did not want written but only whispered from ear to ear. You don’t need to know Sanskrit to understand, all you need is silence to hear.”

And in both…

“The path of the pilgrim is one we’ve both walked. We’ve left you our footprints to follow, alongside the voice of your heart.”

“Now continue child. Walk mindfully. And keep it in your head, that it’s for you, and ownership of your own enlightenments, that on this road, alone, you tread!”

The hands let go of mine, but my pack became lighter. And one humble tear of thanks bowed down my cheek, as I brought my hands together and lifted my respect, love and appreciation for this most precious piece of guidance graced upon me from higher.

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Blank Page

(Guayasamin´s “Hands of Protest”)

Who am I?

Like a trailer for my after-life movie, last night in a dream, I saw a summary of everything I’ve ever seen in this life. And as I watched those images swirl up and down and swim in and out of vision, a single question rose from the eye of my stormy life mission;

If “I” am watching me, then who am “I”?

“Who am I?”

The question echoed from my dream into my waking reality and rolled off the bed with my sleep and into my journal.

It’s not a new question.

I remember a spiritual guru at the Pyramids Retreat Center in Guatemala asking us (a group of students in a session) this question, “Who are you?”

I don’t have access to my journal-ed reply to that question. But the very fact that I can no longer recall my own words or even forge a new response to the question shows me just how much I’ve changed in the last three years.

Because if you asked me today, “Who are you?” I would answer;

“I am not young, but neither am I old. I am not female, but neither am I without femininity. I am not male, but neither I am without masculinity. I am not a daughter or sister, but I am not without kin. I am not a wife or girlfriend, but neither am I without life partnership. I am not an American, but neither am I of any other citizenship. I am not educated, but neither am I unlearned. I am not an expert in any one thing, but neither do I know nothing of all things. I am not a student or teacher, but neither is my interaction of learning without end. I am not wise, but neither am I naïve. I am not certain, but neither do I want to be. I am not logical, but I am not without rationale. I am not rich, but neither am I without all life luxuries. I am not strong, but I am not without courage. I am not sane, but I have not lost my senses. I am not real, but neither am I meaningless…”

I could go on forever.

But my point is this; I set out upon the world to find and define the answer to the question of “who am I.” I put my name on a blank piece of paper with a colon aside it and started scribbling in the answers, till a full definition resided. And then, at some point, am I’m still not sure when, where or why, I flipped my pencil over and started erasing all my definitions, having come to the conclusion that all were lies. Till I was left again with my name and a dot, dot, dot, and the acute realization not of who I am, but who I’m not. And today, on that written and erased, tattered, torn and loved page, not even my name remains.

Funny, now that I think about it, just how caught up we are in defining everything. Is this just the curse of humanity, to be plagued with the constant need to declare, categorize, name, organize, defend and define everything that is capable of our conception? Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we have to break fire down into a process of catalysts and chemical compounds? Or break a sunset down into the coincidental orbit of planets and stars. Why can’t we instead break OURSELVES down, in simple awe and wonder of our existence without explanation? While at the same time giving that undeclared, unnamed, uncategorized, undefended and undefined “explanation” of the Divine the respect, awe and wonder that it deserves?

I throw my hands up in the air in protest.

And them I drop them in exhaust.

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Follow Your Inspiration


“I’m having trouble finding my path. I’m not sure if I should be where I am. But I’m also not sure where I should go and I don’t want to have regrets. How can you be so certain of your choices?”

This is the theme of the questions in my inbox.

And although I have not an ounce of official authority on the subject, I do have one wild track of trial-and-error from which I’ve learned a thing or three. So I’ve pondered upon my path – its pits, plunders, pursuits, and prizes– and have come up with a personal guide to seeking, finding and following your Inspiration.

But first let’s first pull the word “omen” out of the terribly-over-stereotyped “witchcraft” box. I want to dust it off and redress it, because it IS one of my FAVORITE words, that I never dare travel without.

We each have a unique purpose in this life. And we each have a unique path to realizing that purpose. Omens are nothing but the signs along that path.

We don’t get aerial maps of our lives (‘cause that would just be terribly boring). Instead, we get an internal compass called Inspiration. We get a key of odd hints and seemingly nonsensical clues called Intuitions and Inclinations. And as we pick up pursuit of the path, we encounter — at every turn, crossing and corner — signs that help us choose how to proceed; These signs are omens.

My life is flooded with omens. And this is the reason why it appears as easy for me to blaze a trail without worrying about wrong or alternate paths. But I certainly haven’t always seen it as so. It’s quite easy for me to remember when I imagined myself standing in the middle of a desert completely dry of view and direction. But looking back, I see that even there, my omens existed. I just was too busy scanning the horizon for an oasis to see the small smiling flower at my feet.

For omens are not usually obvious. They are the asterisks that indicate to the fine print. And they will only by noted by those that note them.

Enough. For as my mom recently pointed out, “your writing is getting too metaphorical and OUT there.”

*exhaling one of those sighs that are reserved for parental criticisms of your way*

So I’ll get on with it. The following are some of the omens that I have found to consistently prove themselves as reputable signs along my path:

Goosebumps: Goosebumps are a clear call from the subconscious to the conscious,that SOMETHING, of hair-raising proportions, is being hit in the head with a spitball. For example, the ONLY reason I made the decision to walk the Camino de Santiago was because the first time I heard about it, my arms suddenly converted to chicken skin. Simple as that; The body knows before we do. And it WILL jumpstart your skin to turn your attention and energy to whatever it is that will make you move.

Unexplained Familiarity: All of my unexplainable feelings of “familiarity” with things, ideas, persons or places have turned out to be grounded in something greater. Now this, by all definitions goes “out there” (sorry mom), but I very much believe that we chose the life (and its trials and learnings) we’re living right now long before we were conceived into it. But we just chose to forget we’ve chosen it (refer back to why we’re not given aerial life maps). But the impression of what we knew is still there; Similar to the impressions left from a forgotten, but still “felt,” dream from last night. For example, Spain “feels familiar” to me. Getting off the plane in that country is like sinking into worn sneakers. And it’s for that reason alone, that I keep returning to it.

Day Dreams: If you have a waking or real dream, then you are at advantage, for you are already aware of your inspiration! Seeing the oasis in the desert always makes it easier to get there. What’s important to remember is that waking dreams ARE absolutely credible. No matter WHAT it is, it’s real AND it’s a part of your path. Do not “shhh” your imagination. “Shhh”the voices of society and insecurity that doubt that it’s in you to bring your inspiration to life. I have enormous, reckless, and outrageous dreams that I would blush to speak out loud of. And I remind myself every day that these inspirations would not be conceivable if they didn’t already have the inherent power to be conceived to physical reality.

Night Dreams: I believe we are subconsciously quite aware of our waking route. Dreams are a direct and daily channel to accessing and bringing those awarenesses up to more conscious levels. For example, one night last February, in a dream I picked up a phone and was told by someone that I needed to go to Israel. When I woke up, I wrote into my dream journal; “I’ve been called to go to Israel.” And thus I know that, as soon as opportunity and the present moment cross paths, I will travel to Israel.

Bad Habits: I personally think bad habits are not so much “negative” as they are “indicative” that energy is being misused or displaced. But the energy is there, and it just needs to be funneled into a more creative mode of expression. For example, I find that some of the most inspiring people I’ve ever met have serious histories of extreme drug or alcohol abuse. Bottled passion is explosive. They tried to subdue the intensity of their passion because they hadn’t yet found the creative and beautiful ways of expressing and letting it out. I pick at my fingers and bite my lip. But I’ve learned to recognize that it’s because I’m holding back an expression of myself, either by fingers (writing) or mouth (word), that my body is physically asking to be released.

Natural Talents: Anything that comes easily to you is a part of your path. It could be language, body expression, song, silence, dance, stillness, leadership, independence, writing, painting, sex, abstinence, sport, observance, walking, stopping, giving, or taking. The trick is to not label the things that come easily to you as stupid or unimportant. For example, two of my natural talents are that I’m an extremely slow learner and I have no memory. I used to hate these things about myself. But now I understand why learning things slow is essential to my path; Because I´m constantly treading new personal ground, I need to analyze every single step and make sure it makes intuitive and intellectual sense before I take the next. So that then, when I get to the “end” of that segment of the path, because of my though investigation along the way, I never have to look back. Similarly, I have no memory for numbers or dates because these are time-dependent ratios that are contradictory to my focus on the present moment. They are irrelevant to my path and so they are subconsciously discarded from my awareness.

Childhood Obsessions/Interests: When did you stop believing in your dreams? I think I stopped between the ages of 7 and 22. For sixteen years, I let the social institutions keep me convinced me that my life was not special, that my dreams were not real, that I owed something to someone, and that if anything felt good I should feel guilty about it. Looking back at my 7-year old self, it’s easy to see my passions because I had no fear of expressing them. When I was 7, I spent all my time exploring in the forest behind my house; drawing maps, collecting pinecones, digging holes and seeking buried treasure. There was no end to my delight with life. Yesterday I spent the morning seeking Ceibo trees, collecting seeds on the ground from under them, mixing compost with dirt and planting seeds. When the 7-year old in me is stoked, her joy overwhelms me. Growing-down is highly underrated.

Unexplained Intuitions/Emotions: If something moves you, and you can’t explain why, then it deserves your investigation. It’s one of the biggest lies in the word that you need “a good reason” to be able to proceed with an inclination or intuition. Be patient. Allow it to make sense later (because it always proves itself to do so) and just let your self be moved without premeditated direction. This weekend, I saw someone that I felt, without explanation, I “needed” to talk to. So I offered him coffee and we suddenly exchanged messages essential to my quest. A few years ago, I quit my job and traveled hundreds of miles to live in Antigua Guatemala because I fancied seeing its cobble stone streets. Now really. Can you think of a more reason-less reason to move somewhere than to see a city’s streets? But every day I lived in that city I treaded and adored those cobblestones. And it was like my love for them somehow grew out of the future to touch my past and become an omen in my present. When the circle completed itself, it all made sense. But sometimes we all have to swing corners without knowing what’s around them.

Feeling “Lighter”: This is an extremely important “trick” that I constantly employ for decision making. If I come to a fork in my path and can’t decide which way to go, I pause. And in that pause, I make the decision to go one way but without taking the actual step. And then I simply close my eyes and take account of my body’s response. How do I feel now that I’ve made this decision? Do I feel any discomfort, tightness or heaviness? Or do I feel a slight lightness, ease and grace? Then I make the conscious decision to take the alternate route, and take another self-assessment. From experience with this exercise I have found that consistently there is always one choice that makes me feel slightly “lighter.” For example, I recently asked my parents to remove myself from their will. I don’t want our relationship defined as parent-child any longer and I no longer want a legal document to exist that declares us as so. Neither do I think healthy the idea of offspring benefiting (and thus feeling guilt) from the death of their parents. And finally, as a part of defining my independence, I wanted to eliminate all my forms of dependency. But I had no idea how much I loved this release until after I stated it. I was suddenly elated! And my lightness alone was my most obvious indicator that I had made a perfect decision.

The Path of Least Resistance: The truth is, not only do you want to find your path, but your Path wants to find you. And thus, it WILL present itself tirelessly and in multiple forms to give you plenty of opportunity to recognize and realize it. It is the desire of the Universe that we all self-realize. I never wish “luck” upon anyone, because I already know that all dreams are REAL and that the entire Universe is on our side to bring them to be. When I feel like I’m pushing and not getting anywhere, it’s always because I’m pushing in the wrong direction. In these cases, I turn around and go with wherever the flow wants to take me. For example, not only did I feel guilt for eating animals, but I also don’t like meat and my body doesn’t digest diary products well. I spent years dissecting meat for its leanest parts and eating tons of dairy despite its ill effects upon my body. Now does it really surprise me that Veganism has suddenly come so easy to me? There’s no more burden of guilt and my body is functioning more smoothly than ever. I know Veganism is a part of my path because if I stop fighting and just let things flow, I suddenly see that it was always my path of least resistance. Likewise, I hold little attachment to things and people. But instead of beating myself up for not wanting stable possessions and relationships, I just make a living that is in accordance with my natural affinity for the life of movement and unattachment. People are deceived when they think I work hard or have great courage or tremendous energy to chase down my dreams. The truth is, this is the most natural and easiest thing that’s ever come to me. And I know it is my path exactly because it is so.

Explore Whatever Excites You: This is the absolute key to following your inspiration. Anything that “excites” you IS a definite part of your path. Excitement is the greatest omen. If you feel “moved” or an “inner smile” or a slight “energy” move through you at the mention of an idea, place, person or thing — then it means you are on, or close, to something that IS a part of your purpose in this life. If Inspiration is your internal compass, then Excitement is the energy force that wiggles and turns the dial to the direction of your path. Follow it! No matter what it is — if it makes you lose track of time, or keeps you up at night, or makes you want to talk about it without stop — then follow it!

Follow your inspiration.

And remember that there are NO wrong turns along your path. Every part of it IS you. ESPECIALLY the “wrong” turns. I learned about honesty from stealing. I learned about truth from lying. I learned about unattachment from hoarding. I learned how to appreciate food by fasting from it. I learned silence by seeking refuge from the noise. I learned stillness from movement. And I’m learning humility from too much ego. Change, evolution and enlightenment are not born from mediocrity. Make extreme decisions and extreme enlightenments will follow. Every single bend, turn and cross in our paths presents another learning exercise or application for the purpose of personal growth. We only stop living when we stop learning. There are no mistakes; Only opportunities to grow. And remember — your adventures are never lost; Only changed.

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Dreaming Death, Lucid Living

I dream of dying.

I don’t mean that I “wish” for death in the physical realm. I mean that I actually have dreams, where I die, almost every single night.

I’ve been recording, studying and analyzing my dreams every day for almost one year now. And this study, in combination with the books and my mediations, has become one of my most powerful tools for navigating both my personal subconscious and the collective unconscious that I, in agreement with Carl Jung, believe underlies the history of all humanity

Consequently, I have come to consider the dream realm a direct channel to the Source of Creativity, which I happen to also consider the Source of All. The artists, the musicians, the poets, the magicians, the healers and the alchemists know this channel well. For it is where they dip their paintbrushes, pens, wands and fingers. And any person who creates something really beautiful, knows better than to claim personal credit. They know that they are only knocking on the door of a mansion, and they are a guest in the house of Creativity, and that if the door opens and they are given a flower from the garden inside, it is not to be called their own, but be respected as the gift that it is, in understanding that there are miles of magical gardens inside from which this small representative sprang.

It is this flower that I call Inspiration.

It is this flower that I dedicate my life to seeking and sharing.

And it is this flower that is left on my bed every single morning when I wake.

I am in complete agreement with Don Juan (“Journey to Ixtlan” Carlos Cansteneda) when he advises:

“Dreaming is real when one has succeeded in bringing everything into focus. Then there is no difference between what you do when you sleep and what you do when you are not sleeping.”

If there is such a thing as enlightenment, I imagine it to be as such: The merging of the conscious, the personal subconscious and the collective unconscious. This definition is only my own, and it’ll probably take me a few dozen more lifetimes to see if there’s any validity to it. But if we are all still together, it sure would make a good blog wouldn’t it? *laughing*

So there is no better piece of advice I can offer to those who want to begin their own internal quest of exploration than to start with Dreaming; To make sense of the sleeping reality, and make dreamy the waking reality. To level the sub and conscious worlds, till you find the one where they meet — where metal itself is enlightened to its own potential, and suddenly changes to gold. To walk the bridge between the reflections of seemingly alternate realities, and realize that they are one.

No tools necessary, aside from perhaps a pen and paper. A new creative case to be assigned each night. A whole new world to explore, no boarding pass needed. A free ticket to travel, and you’ll be back in time for breakfast.

(With what great taste Life has been designed!)

I had my first absolutely lucid dream two weeks ago. It only took me eleven months of dream study and practice to finally, in a dream, fly into the air and shout, “I’m LUCID DREAMING!!!” Eleven months of setting the intention every single night in bed before lucidity actually came to me. (I’m the slowest learner of all! And I WILL love that about myself.) In the lucid (conscious) dream, I felt myself not “out” of body, but within the “inner” body; Confined, but at the same time free, or as I realized while in the dream, “it´s like being peeled away from the physical…why does this feel so familiar? Ah ha! Because I feel just like I do — in meditation!”

Why of course there would be a link between meditation and dreaming! I shake my head now in the obviousness of it all. Quite clearly Meditation and Dreaming are parallel paths to the same Channel of Creation. My exploration of the bridge between the two, however, has just begun. And as if in confirmation of this exact (personal) fact, I had this dream last night:

I am kneeling on the ground. There is a tall, regal looking man standing over me. He holds a beautiful silver sword that he gracefully swings over my shoulder and head in a manner that I accept as a blessing. And then, wordlessly, he pronounces my death sentence. A single tremor of fear quakes through my body, but as soon as I recognize it as so (“This is fear.”), it stops. And then I slowly bow, sit down, cross my legs, lay my open hands on my knees, and pull my upper body and neck erect. And in this position, I lift my face to the man, gently close my eyes, softly go into mediation — and surrender. And when I close my eyes, the king and the sword disappear and a darkness falls over the dream. And there I wait – suspended and buoyant – on the secret bridge between meditation and dreaming – until I wake.

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Undressing Love

(An immitation of a piece by Ecuadorian Oswaldo Guayasamin that I painted on our window.)

> A Few (Last) New Pictures

(My digital camera has officially Died…or at least changed to another form of existence that chooses not to turn on. Does anyone have a used digicam they are looking to sell for cheap or donate to a wandering pilgrim who likes to share her captured visions? solbeam@gmail.com)

*****

Q: You state, “It means I cannot attach myself to any one love as greater, more passionate or more true than another.” This statement seems to allow for different kinds of love. Do you feel different kinds of love for different things while still recognizing that different love doesn’t mean unequal love? Or do you believe in one kind of love and share and experience that love with all things? Is there another explanation?

Such a good question. And one I have only just recently set myself to the task of exploring. So I can only speak from my understanding of it right now, which really could change at any minute. But with disclaimer disclaimed, I step forward.

My current suspicion is that there is only ONE essence of love.

If I strip the love I feel for my father, my sister, my cat, Gandhi, Ralph Waldo Emerson, or the woman that gave me a free sweet bread this morning, I find that when it stands naked of its relation to me, it is all the same. And not only that, but it’s also the same as the love I have newly recognized for the terrorist, the president and the man who ripped me off on papaya at the market yesterday.

Seems to me that when we define Love as falling into different “levels” or “types,” it is not the Love itself that we are classifying, but the level of attachment that we have for the object of that which we direct the love.

“I want to be with him all the time, therefore this is True Love.”

“I don’t want to be near her, therefore this is not Love.”

“I miss them, therefore I love them.”

“I don’t know them, so how could I love them?”

Does the actual Essence of my love change from person to person? Or do the definitions of Love change simply in relation to how much I would miss that person if they were gone and our relationship no longer existed?

As a result of my travels (physical, emotional, spiritual), I have come to some startling realizations about my reality. I uncloaked Death, and found Change travelling incognito underneath. I dissected Time and found the Future and Past as the same momentary glimpses of Now. And I stepped away from Distance, to realize that what I see is only a reflection of the Perspective from where I stand. In my reality (and by no means must anyone share it with me!) Death, Time and Distance are now lackluster and dusty tales that not even the Fairy would bother to present.

So without feeling confined to these counts and measures of the physical world, I suddenly realized that my attachment has nothing left to attach itself to.

I do not miss my mother. Not because I don’t love her or want to be close to her, but because I already feel like she’s standing by my side.

I am not sad to say goodbye to my friends. Because I do not recognize it as any kind of ending, but only a turn in the cycle towards a new beginning.

I do not count the days, months or years till I am with a lover. For it was five minutes ago that we were together, and five minutes till we reunite.

And I do not long for my family, because I feel absolutely surrounded by the familiar relationships that I share with each and every form of Life with which and whom I interact.

And now, left with no means to attach myself, I am left only in my Love; Engulfed in its equanimous essence.

And that is why I believe in One love. One love that is all Love; Its essence as the vibration of energy that underlies our shared existence.

Love that wears the silly clothes that we dress it up in because It is as amused with us as we are it.

But naked, it is Love.

As naked, we all are.

*****

If you’ve sent me a comment/idea/criticism/question, please be certain that I’m entertaining it, (perhaps even getting a little drunk together), and that we’ll be both be back at you, (perhaps even stopping by Answer’s house?) as soon as we deem ourselves presentable.

Because I consider every reader comment and question essential to my (and our shared) search and understanding.

(sol’s travel photos) (about sol) (some sol stories) (LeapNow.org) (travel disclaimer) (packing list)

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A New Myth

“So what do you read?” he asks me as I deliver black coffee and sugar to the table.

The unsuspecting target is unaware that he is about to be ambushed by my Army of Authors.

I charge, “Reading? Well, let´s see….a few books by Osho, and works by Edgar Cayce, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Carl Jung, Ghandi, Canstenada, and Sri Ramana Maharshi as well as some inspiring material my mother just sent me by Joseph Campbell… wait, listen to this…”

I pull out the ratted email from my back pocket and begin to read…

“If you want to find your own mythology, the key is with what society do you associate? Today there are no boundaries. The only mythology that is valid today is the mythology of the planet, and we don’t have such a mythology. The closest thing I know to a planetary mythology is Buddhism, which sees all beings as Buddha being. The only problem is to come to the recognition of that. There is nothing to do. The task is only to know what is, and then to act in relation to the brotherhood of all of these beings.”

“The mythology of the planet,” I sigh.

“No. Fiction,” he says and yanks me down from lofty thoughts. “What fiction do you read?”

Fiction? I scratch my head and think about this question…

“I think my life has got enough fiction in it. I’m not sure what I’d do with any more romance, adventure, danger or mystery. I suppose that’s part of the reason I read non-fiction — to help ground me and to give my reckless story some theme and reason.”

And that is the question…

What IS the Theme and Reason of my Myth?

The question came up from a reader, “Do you actually expect a governmental agency to be flexible with your loans? Do you think society is going to let you be an exception?”

And my answer is: Absolutely not!

I chuckle with everyone at the idea of such a bureaucracy giving even a moment’s attention to an individual. That would be in opposition to its very nature. I will be delighted if I manage to tug a grin out of a single suit.

And a few people (including my parents) have suggested that I just “do the time” or make a few sacrifices “to pay” for the past, even if that means, temporarily “selling out.” But what I seem to have a difficult time explaining to people, is that I simply do not have this power within me. I am unable, as suggested, to “sacrifice” a single moment of living (out of integrity) for either yesterday or tomorrow. It’s not within my power. If I try, my soul actually aches. I feel physically sick with a sneaky and slow, but terminal disease. Not walking in alignment with the Truth in my heart splits me in half. And this straddled path is one I can not walk.

I broke a contract with Society. But Society also broke its contract with me. It told me that it would take care of me, that it would suffice all my needs and give me happiness, if I would only OBEY. It said, “consume, produce” and you will be happy. All the institutions told me that I could “get” happiness in the forms of money, heaven, marriage, material objects, beauty, prestige and/or security; That happiness was something “externally attainable” and earned by long-term investment. And THAT was the biggest lie I’ve ever been told.

And you know why I know now that it’s a lie? Because all lies need to be constantly defended. They need thick walls of support to hold them up because they have nothing else under them. And, my god, is society every trying to convince us of this one. Television, radios, billboards, magazines, newspapers, politicians, teachers, parents, priests, music lyrics, novels, movies, fashion models, celebrities, advertisements on every wall, screen and sign shouting; “BUY ME!”, “DON’T DO THAT!”, “LOOK LIKE THIS!”

*sigh*

But the sky is not falling. Poor Chicken Little. If only he’d stop shouting and look up for a minute.

Cause all it takes is a few minutes of silence looking up at the clouds or the stars for the quiet voice of Truth to awaken within. THAT voice does not need billboards or bikinis or block letters or smart rhymes to get its message across. THAT voice needs no support; It stands on its own. And THAT voice speaks only in a whisper – to those that are ready to listen. And that voice tells me that I can find both Peace and Joy in complete silence.

And from now on, in THIS life, this is the only voice that I abide.

For as you already know, I do not feel confined to one life. Perhaps in the next I will have a house and husband and children and will pay off my school loans in a timely manner. But with THIS life, I will seek a new myth. A story of a girl who surrenders everything to follow the voice of Inspiration within. Perhaps she will die in the making of this Myth. Perhaps she won`t. But either way, she WILL die trying.

I understand that I am challenging rules. I am questioning the system formally, because I think the system needs to be questioned. But I do it all only in the name of Wonder itself.

And just as I surrender to the voice of Truth within, I also surrender to whatever consequences may come from following the path that voice prescribes. I have broken a contract with Society. And Society is a dangerous player to confront. But I have done so with consciousness and in alignment with personal Truth. So if I am punished, or sent to jail, or laughed at, or beaten by Bush himself, then I accept that as part of my Myth. Truth is, I would die for this message. If the point of my puny life is simply to raise an eyebrow or two, then I am absolutely contented!

Because we are all living in a fog of world consciousness. And if even one person turns their head at me and wonders, “just what the hell does she think she’s doing?” — then my job is done, my message received.

For that is ALL I want.

For people to start looking around themselves…

At the condition of this Earth, and the condition of Humanity,

And not at the condition of their “living” — but at the condition of their Being,

To stop defending and start questioning,

To be quiet and start listening,

To look up at the stars with Wonder again,

And ask…

Just what the hell are we all doing?

(sol’s travel photos) (about sol) (some sol stories) (LeapNow.org) (travel disclaimer) (packing list)

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Monkey Message

>New Pictures in the India Album

(Those that have been following this journey know the story behind the bracelet, but let me retell it because it figures into this one.)

So, around midway along my pilgrimage from France to Portugal, a man came up to me and told me; “You must go to India. Take this necklace. It’s from India. Its desire is to return and you may ride on the combined will of the Universe to take you there.”

So I twisted the necklace around my wrist and wore it for seven months.

In January, LeapNow asked me if I would go to India instead of back to Central America. A piece of my life puzzle snapped right into place as I glanced down at that bracelet, smiled, and said, “of course.”

But the bracelet, being made in the finest of Indian quality, broke no less than twenty times. Each time I pulled out my pliers and patiently twisted the cheap copper back into union.

But the night before I left home, the bracelet broke once again during a restless night of sleep. And so I put it on my bedside table to wait till morning to put it back on. And, in my haste of last minute packing, I forgot to grab the bracelet before going to the airport. So unfortunately — not in India — but on my night table in Oregon, it remains.

When I got to India, with a hint of sorrow, I kept my eye out for another similar one in the markets but could not find one. (I learned later, that the particular style is only found in the state of Rishikesh.)

Regardless, I kept a third eye out. And eventually I found the bracelet.

I had just entered the Mother Teresa House for the Destitute and was doing my round of morning greetings, bowing my “Namastes” and touching the feet of the “untouchables.” I sat down on one of the cots and started addressing a small line of tasks; untying the knot in a drawstring, buttoning an unreachable button, adjusting the fit of a dress, when suddenly, into my hands a broken necklace was dropped; An identical reflection of the bracelet that sits at home on my bed stand.

I made not a single movement as the understanding of the omen set in.

“This is your place. Everything you have ever done had led you to here. You are on the right path. Continue.”

The small act of incredulous magic in my hand almost smirked right at me. And all I could do was shake my head and smile…again.

(I share this example because these are the type of omens that proliferate my life. People always ask me what I’m doing, where I’m going, but I haven’t any idea! Like a trail of breadcrumbs, I simply follow the omens along my path with insatiable appetite.)

But my story with the bracelet is not finished!

I have had the great fortune to spend the last two weeks with one of the most inspiring women I have ever met. Her story is 52 years long and one I would never dare repeat, for my words are meager and pale in comparison to those that roll off her sharp tongue. She will write a book one day, and then all will have the fortune to sit by her fireside open jawed and enraptured by tales of her enchanted existence. What is important in regards to my story is that she left home when she was 17, and has been bouncing off the walls of this world ever since. In sharing with me her example existence, she has spread her arms and opened the potentiality of my path up to me. And horizons clear, I now understand the scope of my mission.

So I have made a decision.

I have decided that my journey shall never end and my travels will not be counted in years, but at least one (this) lifetime. My path treads through, but never again IN the United States. My place is not there. It’s here; Outside. From now on, my home will be carried within me. I hereby happily give up all my false (socially conditioned) inclinations towards a homestead, motherhood, social normality and financial stability. From this day forward, I gleefully soak into my bubble bath of a lifetime of outer exploration and internal realization. I dedicate my life to seeking its inherent meaning. No more voices except for the one that whispers directly from my heart. And I won’t stop until I can look up at the stars with perfect understanding of my place in this Universe. And since that will never happen, from this day forward, I shall identify myself in the occupation boxes of country border crossings only as a “perpetual pilgrim.” And if I should perish along this quest, than so be it. For to die while living out my dreams is all I could ever ask of this life. And thus, I slam down my gavel and declare my personal verdict: Liberation.

I hereby set myself free.

So I made this decision while mediating on a cliff facing the snow peaked Himalayas. That night I went to bed and dreamt the following;

My house in Oregon had been taken over and occupied by dozens of monkeys. I distracted one and made a sly entry through a side door. I ran downstairs to my bedroom and began packing everything I loved all together for a journey. Suddenly I stopped. I looked at the pile of things and said to myself, “What am I doing? I don’t need any of this for where I’m going.” I dropped everything I held and scanned the room one last time. And then I saw on the bed stand the bracelet. I walked over to it, picked it up and held it in my hand and examined it. And with an odd grace I realized that I was dreaming. In consideration of this I said, “Nope. I don’t even need this anymore.” I dropped the bracelet back onto the bed stand, went over the window, opened it, and went out.

****

Wait! So the story continues!

After I wrote the last piece, I went through Reiki Initiation (a process of fasting, meditating, ceremony and “vision quest” that initiates a person into the field of healing hands). And on my vision quest (essentially being sent out into the forest alone and asking the universe to open up and reveal to you a personal message that can come in any life form) just guess where I found myself?! Surrounded! By over 30 Languor monkeys! I wasn’t the only one surprised to find them. A forest ranger told me that he’d NEVER seen a Languor monkey up so high in the mountains. Apparently, rising temperatures (global warming) have sent them scrambling up to a place where they can breathe again. But monkeys in a PINE forest?! It was outrageous! And as I sat there marveling at the oddness of the sight, I said to myself, “What are you doing here? You look so odd, so out of place!” And thirty small black faces turned to me with curious, questioning stares that asked back, “Oh yeah. Well have you looked around YOU? You don’t fit in so well yourself. What are YOU doing here?” And I cocked my head and thought about it and decided, “Well, the place I come from doesn’t sustain me anymore, so I had to move.” And then the silent answer came back, “…well so did we.”

And then one jumped on the tree over my head and peed on me. :)

****

As if the Himalayas haven’t done enough already to me — we are now off on a 9-day trek through Kuari Pass. That picture below is our camping spot on the 7th day.

*!!!*

(sol’s travel photos)?\&nbsp(about sol)?\&nbsp(some sol stories)&nbsp(LeapNow.org)

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The Ex-extrovet Travelling Incognito

I always keep on mental-hand one really laugh-worthy idea. This way, anytime I start feeling annoyed, hurried or hurt, I can whip it out and smile the stressor away.

And my new imaginary clown is the following;

My parents suspect that I am in the CIA.

NO JOKE.

My older sister recently leaked the information to me. I could talk more about this….but do I really need to? It’s the perfect one-liner. I’m thinkin’ that I’m gonna start whispering into my watch and bustin’ out the last of my Korean on the phone next time someone calls. Oh, yes. I could have fun with this…. ;)

Making other misconception headlines, I recently got another call from a friend asking if I was getting married. Now c’mon. Really. Me? Married!? Yet another one-liner. The “isle” is the one path in this world that I have no intention of treading. I’ve got other cliffs to jump.

Okay…so this picture from the photogallery was probably a bit misleading. It was the result of a running joke between myself and a friend who’s living vicariously through me and my travels as I do through her and her married life.

But really, the only rocks I want are the kind I can climb. :)

And finally, a new disclaimer for this site.

I recently took the Meyer’s Briggs personality test again. And although my results have been steady and solid (ENTJ) for over ten years, my final results show that I’ve been foolin’ myself all along. Turns out I’m an INFJ/INTJ (“Counselor/Mastermind“). The biggest news being that although I’m the first person on the dance floor at party, I’d be just as happy doing my jiggy in a cave. Yes. The introvert in me has emerged! And although she still salsas in bank lines and rolls in the dirt with street kids, she’s living in her own world for which she can be quiet reserved with sharing permissions. And in that little world of mine, according to my “type analysis,” I also quite actively integrate the imaginary into my reality…

Wait, wait. I can hear people laughing. Okay. Okay. So YOU already knew that! BUT I DIDN’T! That’s the very thing! I see, hear and feel things (and then I write about them), that I thought other people just couldn’t be bothered with. But as I’m starting to suspect, perhaps I AM a CIA agent. Perhaps I AM muddling fact with fiction and submitting biased reports of my worldly probes!

So there it is; my disclaimer. What you read on this site, which is by ALL and every account, in PERFECT alignment with the personal truth of the author, may very well be a smorgasbord of fact, fiction and fantasy. But as far as I’m concerned, I’d much rather my life story read like a fairy tale than a dictionary. So disclaimer disclaimed, we continue!

Leaving for India in 10 days and counting!

(One last misperception correction; a few have gotten the odd idea that I’m paying to go on these organized semesters abroad when actually I am the Trip Leader. I actually guide the groups of college students on 3-month experiential learning semesters (community service, environmental conservation work, local family home stays, foreign language study, spiritual self-exploration, long-distance trekking and other adventure activities) for a BRILLIANT company called, LEAPnow.)

Our India Itinerary is as follows…

LeapNow Spiritual Semester in India, Spring 2004

Date: &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Itinerary:

Feb. 26 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Depart San Francisco for Delhi

Feb. 27 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Day Lost in Flight

Feb. 28 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Arrive Early AM into Delhi

Feb. 38 – Mar. 1 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Semester Orientation in Delhi

Mar. 2 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel by train to Varanasi (15 hr Overnight)

Mar. 3 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Arrive in Varanasi

Mar. 3 – 19 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Varanasi Homestay, Yoga, Hindi Classes, Vounteering,

Mar. 20 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel by Train to Gaya (5 hrs)

Mar. 21 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Transport from Gaya to Bodhgaya

Mar. 21 – 28 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Study Tibetan Buddhism & Visit Temples

Mar. 28 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel by Train to Haridwar (26 hrs)

Mar. 30 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Arrive in Rishikesh

Mar. 30 – Apr. 14 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Work at Ramana’s Garden Orphanage, Reiki Initiation

Apr. 14 – 18 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Trekking in the Himalays

Apr. 18 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Night in Rishikesh

Apr. 19 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel by Jeep to Uttar Kashi

Apr. 19 – 30 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Yoga and Internships in Music/Art/Cooking/Dance

Apr. 30 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel by Jeep to Dehra Dun, Overnight Bus to Dharmsala

May 1-17 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Dharamsala Homestay,Volunteering, See the Dalai Lama

May 1-12 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Optional 10-day Vipassana Meditation Course

May 17 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Travel to Amritstar to see the Golden Temple

May 18 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Transport to Delhi

May 19 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Visit the Taj Mahal/ Semester Wrap-up

May 20 &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp Fly from Delhi back to San Francisco

(*And after India…I’ve got another rabbit to pull from my hat!)

(sol’s travel photogallery)&nbsp&nbsp(some sol stories)&nbsp&nbsp(sol’s work; LeapNow.org)

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Notes to Self

Okay…so I’m back home, and if you wonder what I do when I’m home, let me tell you – I read.

And if you can believe it, I read ALL DAY long. Currently, on the floor scattered around me (in front of the fire, of course) I have open, Guns, Germs and Steel (Jared Diamond), Sacred Contracts (Caroline Myss), Lonely Planet India, Travel Tales India, The Religions of Man (Huston Smith), The Dharma Bums (Jack Kerouvac), Once Minutos (Paulo Coelho) and a Spanish dictionary, The Complete Works of Kahil Gibran, Mystery and Myth of Atlantis (Warren Smith), Journey of Souls, Undefended Love (Jett Psaris, Marlena Lyons), Conscious Living (Gay Hendricks), and Dreams – Your Magic Mirror (case studies of Edgar Cayce) and a dream dictionary.

Today I finished and retired to my bookshelf stories of Greek mythology and a compilation of essays called, Take My Advice (edited by James Harmon).

The final book is what has brought me to this blog. It’s a “book of letters to the next generation” from those that have survived and learned from the prior.

“Brilliant!” I say. How many times have I ignored my urge to go tromping through a old folks home demanding answers from those who’ve already spent a lifetime seeking solutions to my same questions. And here it is, a book of lived regrets and wisdoms. As I perused the pages, I found myself constantly shaking my head — either up and down in firm accord, or side to side in complete disagreement. I wouldn’t know, for I’ve never had living grandparents to provide me council, but I have a feeling the experience would be quite the same had I conducted my own experiment in the retirement home. For some wisdoms are simply timeless and others…well they should be retired along with the era.

So as usual, I took to my journal to record my final thoughts on the book and ended up just compiling my own “Take My Advice” reminders from myself TO myself;

Eat slow. Try to taste every single bite as if it were the first. Close your eyes if necessary. And disregard all the books on eating etiquette and smell your food first.

Turn off the TV. Even better, trash it completely. It’s a mind suck. And it jades you of the adventure in your own life that you could be playing out. Your own life is a comedy, a mystery, a thriller and a romance waiting for you to make it so. Snub Hollywood. You’re the star.

Walk barefoot every single day, preferably outside. Be reminded of your connection to the Earth. Don’t be afraid of the cold or sharp. Let them give you appreciation of the warm and soft.

Look up. At every opportunity look up. There is no better way to remind yourself of how small your problems are than to look up to the clouds or night sky and find your tiny and perfect place in this universe. And always reserve a window seat on planes to get REAL perspective on the world.

Get a hammock. Sit in it, swing in it or be still…but BE silent.

Never reject a gift. If you have problems receiving, it’s because you have problems giving. Start giving and learn how wonderful it is to give. Then you’ll understand that it is your own favor to allow someone else to experience that same joy of giving. It is always a gift to the giver that you happily receive.

Have conversations with yourself. Jesus. Who cares if people think you’re crazy? Being normal is so damn boring. A conversation with yourself will yield amazing answers that you had no idea were inside of you. And you don’t have to do it out loud. ;)

Touch everything. Our hands and bottoms were slapped too often as toddlers. But now you know the difference between hot and not. So go ahead. If it looks interesting, touch it! Play with it. As you walk, reach out to life as it passes by and let your touch bring you back to the present moment.

Assume that every single person you meet in your life has some secret message for you, and it’s your job to reveal it. Even the people that drive you mad, they’ve got something good to teach you, they’re just gonna make you work for it. And when you get really good at finding your messages, start recognizing the secret messages YOU hold for others.

Read. Read. Read. If you don’t know what to read, then go to the library. Take your fingers for a walk down the isles and let you intuition choose the book that chooses you. The beauty of books is in their integrity. Books do not blast their messages over bars drowning our your conversation with friends, they aren’t sold to you by pushy salespeople or constantly interrupted by commercials, their words don’t blind you in flashing neon and their messages aren’t held up by a girl in a bikini. By its very nature, literature maintains a two-way relationship with its reader. At the end of every single sentence, you have the option to decide if it’s worth your attention and energy to continue with the next. And the book, should you show no interest in what it has got to say, has no obligation to keep reading to you as you stare blindly at its pages. Books are free tickets to life travel. They’ll take you to lands, people, and times that no plane can reach.

Have a romance with yourself. Take yourself on dates. Spend endless hours finding out what you’re passionate about. Lay with yourself under shaded trees in grassy parks for lazy afternoons giggling over the exploration of your own imagination. Understand your uniqueness and become enchanted with your own charms. Before you even think of falling in love with someone else….fall in love with yourself.

Buy the ticket. If you want to travel, but can’t find the time, just buy the ticket. Preferably non-refundable. Time to travel will suddenly find you. :)

Routinely ask yourself this, “What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?” Write down the answers. Then write out the steps you will take TODAY to start overcoming the fears that block you from your dreams. Then, walk the written.

Watch the sun set and/or rise every single day. You have a lot of things to be grateful for, so as you watch the day begin or end, count them ALL and smile over the day of life you’ve been so graciously given the opportunity to live.

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