The Shimmering Self

So hard to believe my material self
                                           is the very least of me,
not meant to accompany me
                                           into eternity.

Over the centuries, I've grown so very
                                                      very
                                             intimate
with my curves and lines,
with my cracks and groans,
with my nails and toes,
with my hair, and every
crevice of me.
So very hard to believe my physical
                                           disposability.

( with gratitude to The Happiness Rx )

And yet, when breathing deep,
I find my shimmering self exceeds
my mortal limits, is only impeded
by my body's desires, but smiles
              compassionately at my body's
needs for snacking on the fruits of the earth --
                air and sea, wine and bread,
                you and me
                together --
gentle pastimes of the time
we spend clasped in this earth's embrace.

But if one sincerely meditates
one finds the lines of our bodies
only hold us close; we seek to fly,
and we can fly
infinitely.

(photo by Makropoulos)

Why
is it that we fear our dying?
It is because the body
which is a somatic entity
loves the vibrancy
                   the spirit endows it with.


The body is, essentially,
a parasite that sucks the life
off the spiritual source
that created it.
No sin in that, we live mutually,
striving to see clearly
                         the duality
               of each and all.

~ ~ ~

Now what the hell
             you may implore
does this have to do
               with the cost of oil,
               the unending wars,
               the embittered child,
               the Tony awards,
               with Barack Obama,
               or with Mitt or George?
               With the rising debt
               with the setting empire
               with Madonna's tit
               or the unpredictable weather?

With all the awful news today
Why is it that this is all
                I can say?


Because it is all I can say.

It's hard to believe,
yet it may be time
to believe
that our materials selves
are the very least of we
not meant to accompany
us
into eternity.

nature

(Huffington Post: "Human Induced Ocean Warming" )

The Art of the Exhale

I just started reading Pema Chödrön's book When Things Fall Apart,

and I have been trying to practice her meditation technique of 

making the outbreath, the exhale, the object of meditation:

". . . -the elusive, fluid, everchanging out-breath, ungraspable and yet

continuously arising.  When you breathe in, it's like a pause

or a gap.

There is nothing particular to do except wait for the next out-breath." (19)

annawojtczak

~ ~

Last Tuesday, I returned to the States after my second trip abroad

this year.  It was a relief to be home,

and to return to Normalcy, though, quite frankly,

I fear Normalcy 

-- "Normalcy" is that strange state we all slip into

when we are surrounded by the familiar,

where we take things for granted,

take each other for granted,

walk down the street where we live and don't look at the beauty,

etc. etc. etc. . . . 

but I did not come home to Normalcy, really; I came home to a phone message

from an old friend telling me my former husband was dying.

In actual fact, he died that night,

and for 24 hours or so I was barraged by phone calls from people

who associated me with him, everyone wanting to be

the person who told me he had passed on.

Of all the calls I received, the one that moved me most was from my old friend A.,

who happened to be there in the hospital when my ex breathed his last.

A. called me within 30 minutes of the death, and he was indeed the first to tell me.

Truly, I was deeply moved that he shared that moment with me:

I could hear the awe and horror still in A.'s voice as he described the scene:

my former mate had cancer, you see, and it was in his lungs,

in his whole body, A. finally admitted,

(I actually had had contact with my ex- over the past months,

and knew he was quite ill, though he would't tell me

exactly how ill)

and he had a breathing tube,

and A. explained the sound of the breath

even with the tube,

and I recalled the times I've stood by one near death,

and all I could really focus on 

was breath.

The inhale, yes,

the agonizing intake,

but more poignantly,

the exhale --

that moment of release

and relief

that anyone at hand knew could be the last,

and I was happy to hear

that the final breath was a gentle one,

a peaceful one 

orchestrated by Mahler, played by one of his friends. 

You see, exhales are the most important part of the breath because

it is what we give out to the world.

Yes, we need the inhale for our individual lives,

we draw in the air to maintain our measly machines,

but it is the exhale that we give to the rest of our

living, breathing creation.

(inhabitat)

Perhaps this is why people are so interested in final words:

Did he say anything about me?

(No, I didn't wonder that, not at all; but people do.)

Did he say anything absolutely insightful?

Did she say anything at all?

The final word is the wish we give to the larger assembly.

So it is best if it is one of love, or at least one of peace or compassion,

or understanding.  

Our world is so full of evil expirations

and intentions, and it seems to me our final words

have the power to allay them.

huffingtonpost (interesting story - The Scream is being auctioned off!)

~ ~ ~

Indeed, every exhalation is a powerful thing,

like a wish, or a spell, we unconsciously bring 

to those around us.  My mother

was a great sigher, exuding her personal agonies on her children

with every melodramatic sigh.

I think we were all impacted by this,

raised as we were in this aura of personal despair.

Exhalations of fear, too, only fill others with apprehension.

I can see that in my poor cats: when I get upset,

they are upset, too, just as

when I am in love, they too are in love.

Air, you see, is the most insubstantial substance

we consume 

in the material world,

and, whether we like it or not,

it gets recycled.

Now that we understand recycling a little more,

those of us who care actually clean what we discard

before we put it out to be reused.

Why not the same with breath?

Meditating on the outbreath

makes me very conscious of this dynamic.

I know it's hard to make every outbreath meaningful --

after all, we take so many every hour --

but being conscious on some level of the challenge

can slowly bring a change

to every breath we take,

and give back to the world in which we live

and die.

SUMMER FEAST FOR THE SOUL: Being Spiritual in the Age of the Cyborg

( sk8rrbol )

There is a message

on this blog,

on which I am consistent,

and it is a message about change

-- the dramatic change that I do feel we are all facing --

and an appropriate way to face it.

Humanity is changing so rapidly

right now,

we're going crazy.

Reality is shifting faster

than I can type this posting,

and faster

than you can read it.

Technology is overtaking us;

we can do with technology now things that

our bodies could not do in a lifetime;

we can use technology

to fix our bodies. 

We are living in the age of the cyborg.

( danpankraz )

Furthermore,
we are in
The Age of The Grid:

this is

a time when we can all be

in the same place, at the same time:

the same place,

(as long as we redefine "place"

as where we are in our minds)

at the same time.

Bottom line.

You know it and I know it.

People can play in Second Life

with folks on the other side of the world,

just as long as we agree to be there

at the same time;

people can blog about the problems they have

with their cars

as long as they agree to be on a car blog

at the same time;

people can do a number of things,

both licit and illicit,

with strangers,

all at the same time,

if we all agree to be here at the same time.

All you have to do is make sure you turn on your computer

at the same time I do, 

and I'm there,  as are you

along with

 several other hundreds of thousands of people

in the world.

Therefore,

the internet could be used

to unite humans

under one purpose--

All we'd have to do

is agree

to turn it on

and let it dictate where our mind is at

at the same time.

And humanity would be joined

in one spirit,

in whatever spirit

the people who commandeer the computers

put us in.

Isn't that funky?

Isn't that scary and wonderful?

This would be most wonderful if the spirit

we joined in were to be one

of cooperation and love.

This would also be wonderful if the spirit

we joined in were to be one

of spiritual growth and harmony.

Crazy right?

Well, here's a link to a group that is trying to do

precisely that:

I'm going to do it.

How about you?