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(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.

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

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Dreaming Death, Lucid Living

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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.

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

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Defining a Non-Violent Reality

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- New Pictures (nabbed from my roommate´s camera)

*****

Having made my tracks on only the whiff of whim, I find myself once again looking up to the clouds for the source of the fairy dust on my shoulders. My books all tell me, “You define your reality,” but I wonder too many times a day, “Am I really capable of this kind of creativity?”

I look around my room right now in attempt to capture what exactly IS the essence of that defined reality. Should we start with the books on my nightstand? For this pile always seems to be reflective of where my priorities and pursuits are stacked:

“A People’s History of the United States” Howard Zinn,

“Latin America, From Colonization to Globalization” Noam Chomsky

“Bagombo Snuff Box” Kurt Vonnegut

“The Nature of the New Mind” J Krishnamurti

“Be As You Are” The Teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi

“The Story of My Experiments with Truth” M.K.Gandhi

“The Vegan Sourcebook” Joanne Stepaniak

I read them all at the same time. How I picked up this habit, I’m not sure. But the more books I concurrently read, the more I recognize how curiously their messages concur.

The last book, I would say, is probably the pepper in today’s leafy salad of living. I picked it off my roommate’s shelf last night and put it down (finished) this morning while still fanning the heat of its implications from my mouth. When the spice was soothed, I grabbed my favorite Peruvian Albaca sweater from the coat rack and tossed it to my roommate.

“I love this sweater! Are you giving it to me? But WHY?”

“Because I’m vegan now.”

Although I’ve been vegetarian for almost four years, I’ve never had any “good” reason other than feeling “intuitively inclined” towards the lifestyle choice. But in India I was re-introduced to the principle of “Ahimsa” (a Sanskrit term that means the practice of “non-violence” or “non-harming” as the path to compassionate living). I say re-introduced because although I had never heard the word, somewhere inside of me it had always been defined, even if officially unnamed. (And now that I furrow my brow over it I realize that such are all the greatest omens on my path; Not so much DIS-covered, as they are UN-covered.)

So I lifted the top off the pot and found Ahimsa inside. It was one of those, “ah ha!” moments; “So THIS is why I’m vegetarian. Because I understand all sentient life to be interconnected and cannot, either directly or indirectly, cause harm to another living creature and still live with Integrity.”

I had always known that I’ve never had, in these hands, the power to take another life. (Although I certainly paid henchmen to do exactly so for me for a couple dozen years.) But not for any means or end could I personally, with my own hands, ever kill a mouse, bird, fish, cat, dog, rabbit, chicken, deer, fox, wolf, bear, cougar, ox, cow, elephant, whale or butterfly. I have watched and seen that these creatures display such charm, wit, agility, beauty, intelligence and natural grace that I am humbled in my clumsy humanity.

Perhaps there is a natural order, but in my opinion it is not the hierarchy that our social institutions are so busy painting in all the history, religious and science text books for the purpose of justifying the exploitation of “lower” rungs by the elite (Are we really still talking about the food chain of “animals” here?). From my observations of life (and perhaps in particular from my mediations on the spider’s web) I have understood the natural order of life not to be hierarchical at all, but spherical in shape and motion. And my little node on this web is not only unique and powerful, but equal and interconnected to every other. Life is not for me to deliberate of whom it is worthy or not. It is only for me to respect as I do my own.

Exploitation is exploitation. Whether it be of animals, the Earth or of other humans. And I do not see an end to one without the others. For me to make a daily practice of Ahimsa and non-violence means that not only must I work to eliminate the overt and obvious, but also the discreet and indirect, violent and harming consequences of my living. And if want equality, I must begin by assuming it. This is how I’ve learned to materialize all my dreams; Just define the reality as I want it, and start living it.

For the last seven months I have explained (to the questioning) my Vegetarianism as a simple side effect of my practice of Ahimsa. And I even fancied my response unique until I opened “The Vegan Sourcebook” to its first chapter and read:

“The American Vegan Society published its first issue of Ahimsa magazine in May 1960. Each issue of Ahimsa delineates the six pillars of “the compassionate way.” Combining the first letter of each pillar spells out the word “AHIMSA”:

1. Abstinence from animal products

2. Harmlessness with reverence for life

3. Integrity of thought, word, and deed

4. Mastery over oneself

5. Service to humanity, nature and creation

6. Advancement of understanding and truth

Well look at that. A whole crock-pot of others stewing on the exact same stuff.

Veganism has not only ethical, but deep spiritual roots!

And suddenly my Integrity, with a green-eyed glance at a new realm of conscience, pursed its lips, stomped its foot in my insides and said, “Vegetarianism just isn’t gonna cut it here anymore. If you think you’re gonna live with me, you’re gonna have to clean up your act and take more responsibility for this place!”

And who’s to fight with Integrity? I’ve learned from plenty of experience, that no matter how hard, wide or wild I swing, she places a single finger on my forehead and smiles patiently until I collapse in my own exhaustion of exertion.

So I started swinging: cheese, chocolate, yogurt, cookies, those hot rolls from the bakery downstairs, mayonnaise, milk on my cereal, honey, leather shoes, Jello, cakes, buttermilk pancakes, scrambled eggs, cappuccinos, pudding, my favorite Peruvian Albaca sweater?! You want me to give up my favorite Peruvian Albaca Sweater too?!

And my Integrity yawned.

“Are you done with your little tantrum yet? Cause when you’re done beating yourself up, we’ve got work to do.”

So I surrendered. And the initial fight, having taken so much out of me, suddenly cleared the space for something new to sink in.

So I read the next 19 chapters of the book; manipulative mass-media marketing campaigns, corrupt government industry administrations, slaughter houses methods, veal farm conditions, chicken coops, beak trimming, physical mutilations, overgrazing, animal agricultural water pollution, corporate green washing, human labor conditions in the animal agriculture industry, hormone induced mutations, agrichemical industries, Bovine Growth Hormones, zoos, hunting, rodeos, vivisection, circuses, xenotransplants, animal testing, rainforest clear-cutting. Animal agriculture accounts for 80% of annual world deforestation?!

When I closed the book, there was no choice be made. For my decision to live as a Vegan, was not discovered, but UNcovered. It had been sitting inside of me, patiently, awaiting my arrival at its awareness.

And suddenly I no longer had any craving for cheese or crackers or chocolate or cakes…

I was full.

And Integrity opened both her hands and smiled with a slight shake of her head, “Now see how I take care of you when we work together and walk in alignment on these matters?”

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

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Undressing Love

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(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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Fire My Spirit

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Earth my Body

Water my Blood

Air my Breath

Fire my Spirit

(From the window of the “Planet Drum” Volunteer house in Bahia de Caraquez, Ecuador.)

***********************

Dear Ev,

The day you left, I had to walk in large circles around the city for hours. Cause every time I stopped physically moving, the grief of your being gone would catch up and so overwhelm me that I’d topple over in the hunger of heartache.

Do you remember when we were walking on the beach and you asked me, “This is going to hurt isn’t it? This lesson in Love is going to be really painful.”

And I replied, “Only if you want it to be. If you seek pain, if you think pain will make it meaningful, then yes, this lesson will hurt. But Life is gentle in her lessons if we let her be. Yes, if we resist, she’ll probably resort to a sludge hammer, but if we listen attentively, consciously, she might only tickle us with a feather. And I hope I can graciously choose to decline Pain in my life just as I do guilt, shame, and anger. It’s as easy as saying, “No thank you” to redefine our reality, and our lesson in Love, as pain-free… “

I know those words are still true. The strength did not seep from them, but from me.

And I suppose it was exactly that seeping of strength from our individual paths and persons that was our feather. But we were too busy with the moonstruck motions of lovers to be bothered to notice the threat that Life was dangling over our toes with a smirk.

So we unconsciously opted for the sludge hammer didn’t we? We glided by on the bliss of the union of our being until your subconscious left you awake in the dark for a week with a case of insomnia that would leave you no option but to confront consciousness. Till after a final fight with that which you did not want to admit, you waited for me to wake and when I did, took my hand to your heart and said:

“I have to go. I love you more than anything I ever have in this world. But I have sacrificed my path to walk with you along yours. And now I’ve lost myself in my love for you. But now my Truth, MY path, calls. So urgently that it keeps me awake through the night. I have to go. And I would ask you to come with me, but I already know the strength of your pull to your path. You must continue. And I must go find my own way again. And if you love me, you’ll let me go. Because this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and I don’t have the strength to do it on my own. I need your help. Please. Help me go by letting me go.”

And so we let each other go — in the most bitter but beloved lesson of Unattached Love.

But still the sledgehammer’s bruises mark my heart.

And the tears continue to make trails down my cheeks.

And I feel the vacancy your hand left in mine.

Yet in the center of the heartache and under the swollen eyes of overworked tear ducts – I feel strength seeping back in. For in embracing my pain, I think I have somehow embraced my humanity. And perhaps it was THIS lesson that Life needed a sledgehammer to show me; That Love humbles us.

And that there is nothing more worthy of our humility.

And so in my empty hand, I clench onto my vision of you; On the top of a mountain, at the summit of YOUR path, at eye level with the eagle and its flight of freedom that inspires you so. And in seeing you not lost in love, but in your Inspiration, I suddenly understand. I instinctively and immediately throw my arms into the air and free also the creature of flight that I hold onto. And this time, my hand does not feel empty, but full of the freedom that it has released. And I clutch my heart instead in shared joy.

Ah ha.

Letting go of my attachment.

And ALSO my desire to hold on.

So THIS is unattached love.

…..

When I made the ring for you, I wrote this into my journal knowing that at some point I would give both to you;

“Just as this silver has melted and changed from one existence unto another, so has and shall our love; Born in one form – melted into another – re-birthed into yet another new shared existence. Eternal is that, as is all, Love. Continually intertwining like the very Knot of Eternity that brought us together. Having listened to our hearts and followed our unexplainable intuitions, our souls found and walked the paths that would meet in each other. And in this manner will our essences continue to weave, intertwine and dance. And these paths will naturally stray, for the space in the Knot is just as important as the Knot itself – balancing the dance and keeping the cycles of life and loving fresh and flowing. But always will these forms curve back toward each other. For we are not individual and straight lines living out solitary and linear existences, but momentary glimpses of a divinely chaotic and united cycle of love. In the Knot, there is neither end nor beginning, just as we knew each other before we met and know each other without end. And through each other, we shall not understand only one love, but Know all love, as each and every crossing of Life has the capacity to inspire. May we continue to listen attentively to the guidance of the inner voice of Truth, so the sooner that we may follow our individual paths to reunion.”

with undefended, and unattached love,

sol

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

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On The Mental Move

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Yesterday my mom called me a “modern monk.” And something about this comic vision (of myself in the robes of the Flying Nun) flinted around in my head sparking odd and incomplete inspirations. For I am beginning to suspect that much of Humanity is right now on the verge of coming out of the spiritual closet…but we just have absolute CRAP options for what to wear.

I’ve seen it in my semester abroad students. When I meet them at the airport, they are loaded with prescriptions drugs, histories of depression and self-abuse, and the terminology from a lifetime of psychiatric counseling. But after three months of physical travel (which in all and every case reflects and inspires a similar path of inner exploration) they are so light they actually appear to hover just about an inch off the ground. No, they have not suddenly “discovered” who they are (but neither will any of us ever, for we can never be confined to the physical reflection of ego in the mirror) BUT they have stopped repressing their deep spiritual inclinations, intuitions and inspirations and learned to question their existence with Wonder. For that is ALL that Spirituality is; Questioning the meaning of life and living with Wonder. When or why unanswerable questions became shameful, I’m not sure. But there is a Truth revolution on the stir that is sending the most susceptible of our age (the Youth) spinning in circles trying to decide head from tale. Cause there is great incongruency between what they are being told is true, and what they FEEL is true. They feel something greater rumbling inside of them, but they have no terminology to describe it because their psychiatrists, priests and parents have ignorantly pointed in all directions but one; the questioner’s heart.

What I’ve seen is that inner voices are knocking on inner doors with decreasing patience and increasing volume. The fires of inner creativity are tired of being subdued by the boring hand of Society. The social system put out a hand and offered us food, sex, money and power – but as we see by the news headlines careening across all our screens, is that our over-consumption of these elements has only resulted in the wildfire spread of obesity, STDs, reclusive greed and an arrogant and abusive hierarchy.

We are eating ourselves alive.

And we are still hungry.

It has recently come to my attention that many important people in my life are *right now* contemplating suicide.

And to them I say, “Well then YOU excite me. For your inner voice will not be buried alive. It’s refusing the slow death that so many have succumbed to. But yours will fight. It will bang on your inner doors and beg to breathe. It will scream and shout and stomp (do you feel this inner tantrum going on?). But it refuses to be contained by a coffin any longer. And it is willing to risk everything to escape. Your will to live is not less…but LOUDER. And if you have come to the point that you are willing to risk everything to die, then you are also at the point that you are willing to risk everything to Live. So welcome to the climax of your being. You have always had a choice. But at least now, you are conscious of your choosing.”

And then I remind them that regardless of what they choose, they will not escape either their problems or my love — in this life or the next.

*****

And aside from my usually life-salivating dribble…

Although I have been offered a position managing the café I work at, I have decided instead to follow the visions of my sleeping dreams and make my way to the coast where I have found a volunteer work placement.

On the physical and mental move first thing in the morning.

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

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Surrender

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“Surrender” is my new word.

I whisper it a dozen times a day, as I call upon it…

“Surrender to the rain.”

“Surrender to my laugh.”

“Surrender to the possibility that I might die today.”

“Surrender my annoyance.”

“Surrender my anger.”

“Surrender my attachment to my ego.”

“Surrender my feelings of fear.”

“Surrender my worries.”

“Surrender my pride.”

“Surrender my concept of time.”

“Surrender to my intuitions.”

“Surrender to the truth of my heart.”

“Surrender to love.”

Who ever knew that letting go of everything could feel SO good?!

And thus I proceed…

Surrendering my future.

In Ecuador.

In ANYONE ever thought for one second that I have any idea what I’m doing…I would just like to surrender for the record…

That I have NONE.

:) sol

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111 Degrees Fahrenheit

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111 Degrees Fahrenheit

Journal Entry

Delhi, India

18/5/04

111 degrees Fahrenheit in Delhi today. I bow down and thank the heat for helping to kick me out of the nest I’ve made in India. Just a slight shove to show me my own wings and help me board my plane back to the West.

The child inside of me tugs on the hem of my skirt and begs to know, “Where are we going? Why do we have to move?” And with a comforting pat I deliver back, “it’s okay…we’ll be back again someday.”

I hope this is true – but the decision is not in my hands. Nope. I have left it, and all, on the doorstep of the Universe. The future is not for me give, take, hold or determine. It’s only for me to accept – when it is left on MY doorstep — by the Anonymous who has knocked on my door and disappeared around the corner.

The cows. (How I will miss the cows!) 1000-pound, cardboard and carnation chomping reminders that gracefully meander through the crowded streets reminding me that life is nothing but a fairy tale – a fanciful animal caught in the madness of duties and details. In a country where the cows can mingle among the motorcycles and nibble on vendors’ vegetables – anything is possible. And in this far away land, there is a secret business of selling magic beans. India takes my love of the cow as payment and puts a few of the seeds in my hand. She tells me that if I plant them in the fertile ground of dreams and water them with the tears of my desires, then they’ll sprout a stock that’ll grow to the sky. “For this is India. And these are magic beans,” she says. And I believe her. For if the cow is sacred — can’t everything be holy, mystical and magic?

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Deal with the Divine

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Aha! So this is why it’s called “weed”….

(It literally grows on the side of the road here.)

But I’m not quite sure how time spent in this field is gonna appease his munchies.

*****

And perhaps I should convert to calling my rucksack a book bag?

(This pile isn’t even including the books that I’ve distributed among my students or the two I bought on the way to this internet cafe.)

Thus illustrating my insatiable appetite for the school of spirituality. I recognize now that my passion for this subject gives me the same cellular vibration of excitement that I get every time on the salsa dance floor and the same enveloping tranquility that I feel while buoyant at the bottom of the ocean. Peace and joy. Joy and peace. Now this is emotional homework I can handle.

And so I’ve come to a very important inspiration in my life. I’ve decided that I will officially attend this School of Spirituality. My course questions will be the following:

1. Who am I? From where have I come and why have I come? What is my relationship with the manifold universe and other human beings?

2. What is the essential nature of my being, and what is the essential nature of the manifested world and its cause?

3. What is the relationship of the center of consciousness and the objects of the world?

4. What is the nature of the forms and names of the objects of the world and how do they serve the essential nature of man or universal consciousness?

5. What are the guidelines for action as long as we live in the natural body? Do we live after death?

6. What is truth, and how do we arrive at rational conclusions on questions of truth?

Lucky for me, Eastern scholars have been studying these questions for many millennia and consequently, Indian Philosophy is now divided into seven systems (Vedanta, Yoga, Samkhya, Vaisheshika, Mimamsa, Nyaya and Buddhism) that address these exact questions.

Let me pull out the word Yoga here as it is desperately in need of redefinition.

Yoga is NOT (as commonly misperceived by the West) a set of body stretches and exercises taught in a one-hour session at the local gym. In the Tradition of Yoga, these body postures (called “asanas”) are only one component of the entire philosophical system.

Here is Yoga as defined by my “Living with the Himalayan Masters” book;

“In the Yoga system of philosophy, the individual soul is a seeker, and cosmic consciousness is the ultimate reality it finds within. Yoga accommodates all religions and all systems of philosophy as far as the practical aspects are concerned. While dwelling in the manifold phenomenon of the universe, the soul must take care of the material body, purifying and strengthening its capacity. In this system the individual must practice the highest principle of behavior and the control of the various modifications of mind through the commitments called “yamas” (“ahimsa” *non-violence*, truth, non-stealing, non-materialism & continence and “niyamas” (right speech, purified body and mind, contentment, self-study & oneness with all). By practicing stillness in posture and breath, one then transforms oneself by having control over the senses with concentration and mediation and finally attains “Samadhi.” This yoga system was known and practiced several millennia before it was codified in the first century A.D. in the compilations of 196 aphorisms call the Yoga Sutras.”

I spent the last week living in a Yoga Ashram — a place where a community of people have come together to share in a disciplined (and individual) study and practice of Raja Yoga as it is defined above. There are many such ashrams all over India (and all over the world, including the United States, although unfortunately, simply because they have no organized religious affiliation and appear “different” — they are often slapped with the title “cult” by those who presume without asking questions. (In my opinion, so long as the members of the community have 1. unrestricted freedom of body, mind and spirit and 2. find new joy in their progressive learning, then I refrain from judgment upon the community.)

In any case, I have decided to join a Yoga Ashram.

Actually it was not so much a “decision” as it was an “understanding” of a choice that I’ve been waiting to arrive at all my life. Feels all kind of like a distant dream coming back to me. My path was always evolving this way. I’ve only just become conscious of it. And this revelation – this inspiration – has sent me soaring.

Of course there are many very big questions I have yet to address. What ashram? Under which teacher? In which country? For how many years? And when in my life? All this under the particular consideration and constraint of the fact that I have no money. :)

But I have no fear of these factors or worry over these questions. That is the absolute joy that comes from knowing *intuitively and confidently* that I am on the right path. For ala “The Alchemist” once again, “…the Universe always conspires to help the dreamer.”

It is only for me to make the dream. To conceive the inspiration. And to send out my intention to the Universe.

Although I have complete faith that the she will prevail (as she has consistently done so far), we will let it be a test. Cause I have a feeling that the Universe does not want her name to go down even on “blog” as not coming though on her side of the deal with one of her devoted.

Of course, because Time does not exist where my intention was sent, there are no time-constraints on this deal with the Divine. I am joyfully patient. After all, I’m a lover of every step of this path.

And thus the happy pilgrim, with a new dream tossed over her shoulder, treads on.

ps. Since a few have asked, let me just post for the record that regardless of where my travels take me (outward, inward) I have no intention of ever stopping blogging. I ask only two things of myself in this life; 1. To seek inspiration and 2. To share it. This blog brings that mission full cycle and I consider it an vital component of my self-realization. I’ve found that Inspiration is like two mirrors facing each other. The image within is not only reflective, but indefinite in replication. So thank you for sharing my inspiration with me and playing a critical role in the development of that which resides in both you and me. :)

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

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Leaping

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So I’ve been documenting, sketching and analyzing my dreams every night for about six months now…(and you wondered where I was getting my odd ideas?)…and last night’s message was all too clear…

In the dream, I was standing next to the Ganga River in Varanasi. A human corpse floated to the top and I could see through the water that there were many more at the bottom. There were many people swimming in the river, but they did not seem see the bodies that lay below. I suddenly felt it my personal mission to clean the Ganga of the corpses because I was not afraid or disgusted by the work, but I knew that the swimmers were averse to Death and I wanted to save them from having to see what lay beneath.

Then I turned around and saw that there were two ladders; One with a queue and the other empty. I went to the ladder with no line, climbed it, and found myself on a platform. There was another platform about six feet from me and I knew I was supposed to jump to it. I looked across and I saw a sign on the far platform that read, “Everyone can get here.” But I was sure I wouldn’t be able to clear the space, so I went back down the ladder and went to the second ladder. I waited in line as an elderly woman struggled to climb it. The ladder was shaky and as I looked up I saw that this one too led to a platform, and although there was also another (smaller) jump to be cleared, it was full of clutter and obstacles. I was still waiting in line when I woke up.

So having worked closely with my dreams over the last months, like a good friend, I’ve come to know their character, habits, hidden meanings and symbolic tendencies. When I work with my dreams, I usually sketch them out first (as Dreams are for the most part limited to visuals) and then write out corresponding “captions” underneath the images. And I find that it’s usually somewhere in this translation, from the visual to the vocal worlds, that their secret messages (from my higher to physical self) reside.

My captions to the dream sketch above revealed the following message: I cheated myself on my last journal entry about death and reincarnation. Although all that I said was true, I spared my most honest findings and beliefs because I’m afraid that that leap of faith won’t be followed. But the truth is, I’m making the poor assumption that because I used to be so afraid of the word, “reincarnation” — that everyone else is too. But it’s not my job to save anyone from seeing as they will. And as the sign reminded me, I need not be so delicate or conservative about my judgment of what ground can be covered, for anyone, if they so wish, can make that same leap with me. And perhaps I’m using the audience as my excuse? Perhaps the audience I am most afraid to admit my beliefs to — is myself?

So without further shaky ladders, clutter, queues, or obstacles, I take a deep breathe and take my leap of faith to present my most honest understandings of what I really believe, from my personal pursuit of definition, Life to be.

I believe that this life that I am living right now is but a single move on a chessboard of existences that has been playing out over millennia to checkmate a highest level of consciousness. I believe that I have a higher self that is aware of every move I’ve ever made, of every conquest, every defeat, every advance and every retreat. And I believe this higher self (still so far from enlightenment) to scratch its chin at the conclusion of every form of existence (but a snap in the timelessness of this realm) and reflect on the history and future of the game to decide on the most strategic move (form of next existence) that will best position itself for evolution, and ultimate understanding. I believe that in this game of existences, I play all the pieces; I move as the Queen, the King, the Knight, the Bishop, the Rook and the Pawn. Likewise, I choose existences as both females and males in positions of royalty, service, religion, thievery and poverty. Only by existing as each can I understand all, and ultimately understand that we are all the same, all one. Just as I play all persons, I also play both sides, both black and white; Understanding that good and evil, conquest and defeat, complement each other, and without one, the other would not exist. That they are both used strategically as tools to further my development, to give me the blessed opportunity to struggle — and (perhaps, perhaps not) succeed.

And when this higher self has chosen the life that will present me with the challenges that will push me to grow and move into the next best step of evolution, it consciously also chooses to succumb to a temporary amnesia, in order that it may play out its moves without attachment to previous existences and experiences. So that I may feel out and live my chosen life with full and unhindered heart. And I also believe that when I need guidance, I am dropped hints, omens, cues and clues (from this higher self) as to direct me to my prescribed path. And I think these clues to be found in my dreams — of both the day and night. And I believe that the poets, authors, musicians, painters and all the artists of life tap into this same channel of the creative where dreams are inspired. And to their delight (and matching despair), they find that the language of this realm is untranslatable to the boxy confines of human language and can only be illustrated in expressions of the Unconscious – which I think to be the playground of the higher self.

Whoa. I’m babbling. But suddenly I have a lot to admit to myself. And unfortunately for those reading, THIS happens to not only be a travel journal, but also my form of self-expression and realization. And by denying my truth here, I was denying it to myself. And please understand that I have neither evidence nor desire to prove anything I’ve presented. This is only reality as I — one miniscule, microscopic and meager player in the universe — have experiences it to be.

And now, although I so many more platforms to jump, I also have a train platform to run to…and a 26-hour ride to Rishikesh in Northern India at the foot of the Himalayas.

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

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