Eyes Wide Open

Darshan: to meditate with our eyes open bringing all that is inside out and into view.   

Rise. Roll. Spill. Retreat.
And so it goes…



The waters rage within her. They just do.

And yet she has taught herself to stand still in the maelstrom. 

Be the anchor. The purveyor of reason. The stalwart of common sense. 

For this perfection she is rewarded.  Time and again.  Success.  Accolades.  Even gratitude. 

This is her badge of honor.  Her gift. Truly worn with pride. 

And yet. The ocean furies. Below. 

The emotions, the passion, the longing

Dare she even say the hysteria…squall beneath the surface

She stands tall. Firm. Immovable.

But the wild currents are not deterred.

They swirl. Crash. Pound on her walls from within.

The cacophony of the wind. Rattles. Dislodges. Extricates.

So much so. Instead of silence.  Meditation. Peace.

Today. She seeks rapture. Desperately.

Grateful affluence affords her this precious choice

Knowing this ‘lucky’ was not bestowed on others before her

To be unapologetically present. Eyes wide, wide open.  To see and be seen by that raging sea.

To play. Unadulterated. And free.

To remember HER.  Intimately. 

To surf the exquisite madness that IS her

And bring the tempest of grace inside -- out into view


P.S. Many thanks to both the ocean and (well) Boston Dance Theatre’s evocative piece entitled Women on the Verge by Shannon Gillen, December 2019 for inspiring this post. Albeit oddly juxtaposed, I know (!) - both struck a frozen chord, somewhere deep within, renewing my license to feel the wonderfully wild spectrum of emotions (rasas.)  May we all reclaim what makes us human, vulnerable and unpredictable time and again. 

The Memory Sphere

Jeffrey Balaam 

February 14, 1971 - January 18, 2018

Let’s do this, we said. Let’s say goodbye to our friend. 

And then one by one we each stood up and addressed the crowd. Nothing prepares you for this.  It’s surreal and yet oddly natural. So this is how it will all go down.

I started my eulogy in the most ordinary of ways. I simply introduced myself.  

My name is Teresa, as I pointed to a collage of photos taken of our friend-group over the past 25 years. As luck would have it, in the summer of 1994, I was a college student who found herself back at home with A LOT of time on her hands.  Who knew then that - Jeff, Chris, Larry, Melinda, Jill and I -  were forming a bond of friendship that would endure decades. 

The tears flooded my eyes. The grief strangled my throat. Surely getting up to speak was a mistake. And then SHE swooped in. I knew I could count on her, that inner voice who starts somewhere deep in the ether, well before words, even memory. Like a super hero, SHE single handedly staunched the tears and wrestled the knot out of my throat as SHE found her voice through me.

SHE confidently went on...

So as you might imagine, when the invitation was sent around to tell a fun story about Jeff, after all those years, we have a significant amount of material to pull from.  I marinated on story after story and could not settle on just one.  The process did however get me thinking. What exactly was it about Jeff that kept us coming back, year after year, wanting to keep him in our lives?  

The first sentiment that came to mind was ‘safe harbor.’  It’s no wonder I had water on my mind. Jeff’s favorite place by far was Long Beach Island (LBI.)  He often shared how at peace he felt there particularly in the off season.  But by safe harbor, in this context, I meant that you always knew what you were getting with Jeff. No drama. Ever. No fighting. Ever. 

And I trusted him implicitly. He was the character in our collective story who you could count on. You could place your interests in his care and know that it would be a safe exchange. 

As a simple example, over the holidays, just a few weeks back, I had left my purse in his car.  In every text exchange, he reassured me not to worry, Teresa, it’s safe.  When we finally caught up a few days later...after he jokingly questioned why I even carried a purse if I could live three days without it (fair point!) he again reassured me that I had not needed to worry, my purse had been safe.  To which, I responded, “Jeff of course it was  - it was with you.” 

Those would be our last words. Standing in my driveway. No coat. Him holding my purse. On a bitter cold December evening. Funny isn’t it - how mundane moments transform themselves into cherished memories. Indelible reminders of how precious it all is. Time. True Friendship. Especially in this precarious world. And what a back handed gift on a day like today, while we are awash in melancholy, that an urgent surge often rises up from within, pushing us to hurry up, love life more, QUICK, for we just don’t know when tomorrow never comes.

But I digress. The ask today was to tell a few fun stories.

So the one I picked was the annual day trip to Long Beach Island (LBI.) Sometimes it was a group of us, other times it was just me. But always...it went something like this...     

We’d arrive around 10-11 am.  We’d grab a few chairs at the house, walk down to the beach...for 15 minutes...ah well maybe twenty.  And then, it would be time for lunch.  We’d pretend to consider our options... only to pick the same Italian restaurant he had been going to (with many of you) since he was a kid.  We’d sit at the same booth along the back wall and laugh as the wallets were placed onto the middle of the table. He’d peruse the menu. Not sure why.  Because in our circles I’ve only seen him order either the chicken parm or the margheritta pizza. He might even tap the top of the menu and imitate Larry by saying, “Yo, Pascooch, how u doin’, what u havin’?”

And then he would nervously order...especially if the waitress was pretty. We’d joke about ordering coke with no ice...which (as has already been talked about today) Chris ruined for him years ago. We’d then call or text Chris, if he wasn’t there. At some point during the meal he’d smile as he patted his belly and share that he needed to watch his labanz (which if you don’t know, because I didn’t until I looked it up last night, is defined in the urban dictionary as Italian for waistline/stomach.)

We’d head back to the beach, maybe this time for one hour. And then...it would be time to get ice cream. We’d go to the same place and funny (this has already been mentioned today too) he’d always order a black and white milkshake.  

What made the day enjoyable time and again wasn’t just the routine but that without fail Jeff would recount story after story pointing out the humor in ordinary events or our personal quirks —such as Larry’s love of vacuuming. Or Chris and Jeff’s first heavy metal concert where they showed up in what was affectionately referred to as the I love reading mobile. Imagine Chris’s mom’s station wagon with a big ‘I love reading’ bumper sticker plastered on the back and the two of them tailgating in the parking lot eating apples from their brown bag lunches.  

Jeff never forgot a story. Or anything for that matter. And his humor was never mean or sarcastic...but always funny and a perfect reminder to never take ourselves too seriously. 

So on days like today...we can measure a life in years. 

And if that is our measure, then Jeff’s life was far too short for sure.

However...

We can also measure a life in moments. 

Moments that matter. 

Moments that make a difference.

Moments that leave a lasting imprint on the sphere of our hearts.  

If that’s our measure today, then I'd suggest to you Jeff far exceeded an average life expectancy. 

And he is not done yet. 

Because all of us gathered here were given the gift of memory - and it's a gift that keeps on giving.  

While Jeff has gone off to fly the ever expansive friendly skies and we’re left here (truly) heartbroken that he will never again provide us with any new material, I know for certain he will continue to be with us...at events and in conversations both big and small...especially when we retell one of his many stories. 

Godspeed dear friend - you will be missed. 

And with that, poof, SHE was gone. Vanished back into the ether. No sooner did I return to my seat did my eyes swell with tears and my heavy heart once again choked my throat. After the service folks said kind words about how my eulogy made them feel and asked how I got my second wind to brave getting up to speak.  Partly it was the monotone speaker reading definition after definition...after definition of positive personality traits who dulled my emotions (haha) but mostly...it was the mysterious handiwork of GRACE.

P.S. #GRATEFUL. Not, of course, for loosing our dear friend too soon. But rather for all the things that held me as I maneuvered this curve ball which left me staring down the barrel of my own mortality, shocking me into the realization that this thing can (and does) go off at any moment, without discrimination or consent. I found myself immensely grateful for the physical practices that keep me strong, the communities of people who unknowingly buoy me simply by showing up and most of all for the yoga philosophers and meditators who plant the seeds (bijas) and bequeath the tools which keep the channel open so that, when needed most, just the right words may find their way to a sleepy little river town in Yardley PA where a small crowd gathers to say goodbye to their friend.  #HERWORDSAREMYWORDSPLUS1 #SHEBREATHESUSUNTILSHEISDONE #LOVEYOURLIFE #WHENINDOUBTJUSTSHOWUP #WENEEDEACHOTHER #ILOVEYOGA #WEREALLJUSTWALKINGEACHOTHERHOME

If a tree falls in the woods...

Betwixt and between -- the Fall equinox. It's a time when day and night are equal lengths, an inconspicuous tipping point, signaling a shift. In the northern hemisphere, the world as we knew it -bedecked in it's summer effulgence - starts the process of LETTING GO.  Leaves fall. Plants wither. Naturally. Slowly. Burrowing toward hibernation.  

It was during this time of the year that the lovely Diane of Stillpoint yoga studio in KOP recited the poem 'SHE LET GO' while we basked in svasana. (Yoga teachers - you should try it! See the poem in separate post below.) The words struck a chord with me as if they had been hanging in the ether, ad infinitum, just waiting for the right conditions to be plucked. I was touched by the reminder that the transformation and healing we seek on our yoga mats so often just happens.  No struggle. No fanfare. No applause. No noise. At most there may be a silent internal nod. You've got this now. You are going to be ok. But mostly, after all of the turmoil, the shift isn't good and it isn't bad. It is what it is, and it is just that.  

So, yea. 

If a tree falls in the woods and
no one is there to hear it,
you bet it makes a sound. 

And we count on it.
We rely on the good stuff that happens in this place, betwixt and between, that we cannot see or hear.  

In India, they performed rituals where they overtly put our prayers into the ether (apeksha.) I loved that they were so direct and confident in their approach.  "But of course", their actions relayed to us without question, "this is just how it all works."  A matter of fact. When we send our thoughts into the cosmos, it changes things.

While we tend to be more subtle and skeptical on our yoga mats, we also go to that place beyond sight and sound often.  We go to that place to express our well wishes, anger, apologies, regrets, or love that will not (or no longer can) be voiced face to face, perhaps because we are too wounded, too considerate, too proud, too infatuated, or too afraid. And we count on our silent thoughts being heard by the intended recipient.  

We go to that in-between-place with our silent attempts at believing in love, despite having our hearts shattered, or at regaining our confidence, despite being defeated. And we count on that place for our renewal.  

We go to that place in the middle to LET GO of the stifling debris swirling within us -- our anxieties, our confusion, the judgements, the 'right' reasons, or those memories that hold us back.  And we count on that place to shuffle things along.  

We go to that place in the seam where the pedestrian unsung champion within us, who is incessantly working to help us evolve, both triumphs and misses the mark time and again.  Oddly, it is hard, isn't it?  Often easier to excel at academics, sports or our professions than to assimilate all the things that break us open.  

So thank you Stillpoint yoga, for skillfully taking us to that place betwixt and between, where on one rather ordinary Fall evening, while no one in class heard a thing... SHE LET GO, setting into motion a few raucous shockwaves that surely rippled through the ether. 

Namaste

She Let Go

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgements.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the 'right' reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn't ask anyone for advice.

She didn't read a book on how to let go.

She didn't search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn't promise to let go.

She didn't journal about it.

She didn't write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn't check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn't analyze whether she should let go.

She didn't call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn't do a five-step Spirtual Mind Treatment.

She didn't call the prayer line.

She didn't utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn't good and it wasn't bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her.  And the sun and the moon shone forevermore.

Rev. Safire Rose

Beggar's Choice

We can beg the universe for certainty. Plead.  Even bargain. And yet we cannot have what she is not offering.  Instead she offers opportunity. The possibility of the present moment.  The option to choose to do our best. Play. Make optimal choices. Alchemize our perspective. To delight in our primal senses.  To Smell. Touch. To Listen. See beauty in the mundane. To create meaning. To love being human.  Ferociously. To experience her breathe streaming through us. Allowing her to sing her song however sweet, rapturous or uncanny, until she is done...streaming onward, carrying us to another home, catching us a new wave to ride.

Variations on a theme, Opus 3.14159....

Give her an inch and she will take a mile.  You know the type; she's pushy like that. 

The universe is always looking for an angle - an in - an opening into which she can revel in her never-ending dance of recursion.  Her variations may be similar but never the same. And her muse is a melody that is at once thematically familiar, repetitive, deeply rooted in the past and yet plays on itself in infinitely new and random ways.

It's with this idea in mind --  variations and their themes -- that I'm (finally) honoring a few requests to please jot down my "default...go to" opening and closing for our yoga class.  Both have been seeded by themes that I've gleaned from yoga aficionados far more steeped in these rich ancient traditions than me and then further refined by my own rather ordinary experiences. They are interpretations rather than translations, directionally correct but not exact. 

Opening

Om namah shivaya gurave

Sat chit ananda murtaye

Nisprapanchaya shantaya

niralambhaya tejase

May you honor that scintillating essence which chooses to express itself through you, through your ability to think, to know, to feel, to love...and simply through all of the things that bring a smile to your face. While this essence may at times be heavily cloaked or refracted in a myriad of different ways, it is in fact always present, full of peace and quintessentially free.

Closing

The Buddhists have their prayer for the welfare of all beings and, well, this is mine.  With the utmost sincerity, (truly, truly) my wish for each of you as we are about to take our practice off our mats and back out into the world...

May you keep your connection to grace no matter how tethered,

May you ride her inevitably wild waves of revelation, concealment, maintenance and destruction with ease,

May you know with certainty that the deepest darkness is matched by a brilliance inconceivable (tejase),

May you see the simple reminders each day that no part of her cycle lasts forever, no matter how much you wish at times it does (or does not),
May you know deep down in the core of your being that you matter, there is great opportunity in whatever time you have been gifted to make a difference, and
May you love your life...love your life, as that changes everything.  

Now...it's your turn. 

Accept the open invitation to make meaning from the themes (bijas.)  Take what you've heard in class (which perhaps is not even what was said) and make it personal.  Mix it with your own beliefs and experiences (sammelana) to keep your yoga relevant in the ever changing here and now. 

Similar but not the same. And so it goes. Onward.

 

To creating your own variations on the theme....

Namaste!

P.S. When writing this post I kept thinking there is a sanskrit word that gets at the essence of this.  It starts with an s, kind of sounds like that poisoning people get from contact with raw chicken. Low and behold...I found it. Sammelana.  Go figure.  It is the title of Dr. Douglas Brook's blog. His opening post elaborates so very beautifully on the definition...http://rajanaka.blogspot.com/2008/11/greatest-certainty-is-only-most-certain.html

Hey, watch your heart-titude!

Are you interested in living in a sublime mansion for an investment of as little as one hour of your time each week?

Sounds like the saccharine sweet promise of a late night real-estate infomercial. But alas leave it to the Buddhists to come through on the deal. They’ve named your body – yes your body - as one of the best places to live in the world, make that the universe.

So how do you go about movin’ on up?

Our resident yoga-book-club introduced us to the national best-seller, Awakening the Buddha Within, by Lamas Surya Das. Well worth your read—superbly written, light on dogma and chock full of sensible practices. In the chapter on right effort, the author suggests you can build a marvelous internal living space by focusing on the four heart-titudes, otherwise known as divine abodes (or homes):

       1. Loving kindness and friendliness
       2. Compassion and empathy
       3. Joy and rejoicing
       4. Equanimity and peace of mind

Turns out we are no strangers to the four heart-titudes. (…and you know how much I love connecting the dots, no matter how Rorschach-ink-blot loose the association!) Who knew, but the four heart-titudes correlate to the Tibetan prayer recited from time to time during our opening meditation; Sally Kempton gifts it at the beginning of each of her meditation tele-sessions. Give it a try. When read with sincerity, it can melt the moment and begin to clear away the internal clutter.

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness
May all beings be free of suffering and the causes of suffering
May they know the scared joy that that arises in the space beyond suffering
May they rest in equanimity that knows no grasping or hatred
May they experience the equality of all beings
May my practice be of benefit to all

And so…we similarly used our physical yoga asana practice to spruce up our inner mansions. You did a lot of heart-openers (back bends) and in the spirit of a practice that benefits all, you helped each other into handstand. No yogi was left behind. You infused each pose with whichever heart-titude struck your fancy–-you made joy, compassion, friendliness etc. right there on your mat.

Stop searching and start making.

You proved to yourself that through practice you can "make" so much of what you are searching for. Any time, any where, therein lays the latent potential of tuning in and dialing-up a heart-titude.

Granted, it is not always easy or even clinically possible for some of us to draw out joy or empathy on demand. We’ve all had days maybe even weeks, months, or years where ‘fake it until you make it’ has been our only option. And yet, more often than not I’ve seen a wide variety of people turn into magicians on their yoga mats. Instead of pulling rabbits out of hats – poof! – in 90 minutes or less they’re spinning heart-titudes seemingly out of thin air.

Just do it.

Now, some of you suggested (smiling): Buddhism equals new-agey equals skeptical. Fair enough. You do not attend a public yoga class looking to practice a new (another) religion. Reading a book about Buddhism, let alone practicing it, is not your thing. You are not believers rather you are practical. You simply want to feel good, be better. If an eastern inspired (or best said any practice) works, enhances your life here and now –helps you to be a good parent, employee, child, leader, friend, lover, etc... you’re in.

So we welcomed your inner skeptic as the author suggested. We took off the table whether or not we “believed” in Buddhist concepts such as reincarnation or Bodhisattva status. And instead we put the Buddhist heart-titude practice up to your “does it work and is it useful” test. As an example we contemplated what would happen if we did not build space (a room) within ourselves furnished with loving-kindness and forgiveness. Our conclusion…

Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head. – Esther Lederer

Yep, count most of you in (…especially the capitalists in class ;) Seems most everyone had a few pesky tenants in need of an eviction.

How do the practices work?

It’s complicated.

And the more I learn the less I know (…rats!) What I’ve come to appreciate however is that there are many ways to describe the mystery of our experiences and each of us has a preferred vernacular. For some it is science, others philosophy, art, poetry, architecture, and the list goes on and on. Yet while each of us may prefer a particular language, the basic themes are so often similar. It is with this in mind that I shared the scientific explanations of heart oriented practices below not as proof per se but rather to offer “one” way to describe my experience and maybe yours too.

• How God Changes Your Brain is a book by Dr. Andrew Newberg, a professor of neuro-theology. In it he explains how the anterior cingulate cortex connects the rational (mind) and emotional (heart) parts of the brain. The cortex is activated when you mediate on heart-titudes like love, joy, or hope thereby increasing the communication between the heart and mind parts of the brain. Pretty cool. The result is more empathy for yourself and others, key ingredients for a meaningful life. (www.andrewnewberg.com)

Interestingly (...here I go loosely connecting the dots again) long ago and far away the Indian language of Sanskrit used the word manasika to name the heart|mind. One word. Not two. Intuitive. Not scientific. Lends some merit to the adage, trust first then verify...even if it takes science eons to catch up with what your heart already knows.

• Heart Math is an organization dedicated to the scientific study of the heart mind connection. They have all kinds of info about their research on their site. The video below talks about the science behind how cultivating a positive heart-titude affects both you and those around you.



It's complicated....but then again, maybe it's not.

Because...in the end all that may matter is simply your experience. Think a about it. Right. Wrong. Science. Religion. And everything in between. How did you experience the world? Truth be told, I approach all of these yoga-related philosophies and practices, not from a vantage point of right or wrong, how far out or intellectually pristine, but rather how may this enhance my here and now (...and duly noted a certain legal beagle philosopher vehemently disagrees with my paradigm!)

So what my experience tells me is that whether a Buddhist teaching or not, when I create positive feelings and wish them for others my life is better. And whether the frequency of my heart||mind connection is oscillating at an optimal rate or not, your yoga practice makes me better. Truly, it does. I have entered our yoga class once too often exhausted or heart broken by the toils of life. Yet when you get busy radiating friendliness or joy on your mats in class, it rubs off. I feel it. You change my inner state. Your yoga practice matters. You matter. And perhaps this was the only point that needed to be made.

Closing…

We spent the last few moments of our practice in silence putting the finishing touches on the beautiful mansion we built within the cave of our own hearts by focusing on the four heart-titudes and wishing them for others.

During our meditation I was reminded of St Peter's apse at the Vatican. I’m not particularly religious nor Catholic. Yet, in all my travels this sanctuary of the divine continues to be one of the best outward manifestation of what I imagine the home sweet home of my heart may look like after meditating or practicing asana intent on the four heart-titudes. Awe inspiring. Decadent. Scintillating. A prism of hope and peace swaddled in angelic light.

So my wish for each of you as we left our yoga mats was that this practice gave you a heart-titude (versus attitude) adjustment! And you opened to the possibility that you have all that you need to build a home sweet home of your dreams within the cave of your heart, an expansive palace beyond religion, language or science, where you can go at any time to be cradled in unconditional acceptance and forgiveness, freed to give more and (perhaps...even more challenging) to receive more love, compassion, joy and peace.

To building a sublime mansion befit for Architectural Digest within the cave of your heart, Namaste!