Rumi and the Albatross

The following poem is by 13th century Persian poet Rumi. Nature is so inspiring, as is the spark of life in Rumi's poetry. This poem is particularly poignant, and the last line reminds me of a wildlife video focusing on the albatross (found below). The lesson of a spiritual flight therein is so beautiful.

Seeker, when you feel your soul contracting

know it is for your own good

allow not your heart to burn with grief.

In times of expansion you spend

and this expenditure requires

an income of painful soul searching.

If it was always summer, the roots would burn

and the gardens would never become green.

Winter seems bitter but it is also kind.

When contraction comes, my friend, 

behold the expansion within

be cheerful, do not complain.

The eyes of a child are fixed on the wants of now

while the eyes of the wise see to the end.

When you close your mouth

another one will open, seeking nourishment

in the mysteries of Spirit.

The sugar of sensual joy

is the fruit of the garden of sorrow

this joy is the wound, the sorrow is the plaster.

Learn to embrace sorrow

look straight at its face and joy will reappear.

All action sways between contraction and expansion

both as important as the opening and closing

of the wings of a bird in flight.

~Rumi

The verse on the importance of the opening and closing of the wings of a bird in flight reminds me of the majestic albatross, and a particularly fantastic video about their flights. This beautiful National Geographic video is inspiring for human life, as these creatures are supremely dedicated, graceful, and demonstrate a fascinating way of life through their evolution. There is much to say on the flight of the albatross, how it flies zig zagging strategically and gains kinetic energy for further momentum, and then turns into the wind to gain altitude, "so it can fly for miles and miles and miles without ever needing to flap its wings." This is called dynamic soaring.

As Nat Geo filmmaker, Bertie Gregory, says of the wandering albatross, they are the "biggest bird on the planet" and he continues enthusiastically, "Imagine living life like that! you know, flying thousands of thousands of miles all by yourself. I mean, that said, some of them are coming back to the island to breed at the moment. And that's when they reveal a totally different side of their personalities!"

Each wing is bigger than your average person, and their wing span is eleven feet. They are super graceful in the air, and then have crash landings. Seems like a creature most people could identify with (dukham can be comical at times--when looking back). Fascinating video and a great reminder of the importance of protecting wild places.

A particularly thrilling moment occurs at 4:20 when the timing works out perfectly with what Gregory is saying and the male does the sky-calling--almost as if on cue!

From "A" Dictionary of the Pali language 

Perspectives

"Effortless Worship"

suniyai saba ki kahiye na kachu rahiyai imi bhava bagara main

kariyai brata nema sacai liye jina tain tariyai mana-sagara main

miliyai saba so durabhava bina rahiye satasanta ujagara main

rasakhani gubindahin yaun bhajiyai jimi nagari ko cita gagara main

Listen to everyone, but don’t say a word. In this manner, remain in the world.

Perform your vows and practices with sincerity—they will carry you across the mind’s ocean.

Greet all without negativity, and remain in the illumination of devotional association.

Rasakhan says, "Worship Govinda the way a village woman balances a water jug upon her head—with effortless concentration."

~Rasakahn

Using the example of babies suckling their mother's breast (33.4) to show that all beings obtain livelihood from what they do, Draupadi says: "All beings know exertion, Bharata, and visibly (pratyaksam), having the world as witness (lokasaksikam), they eat the fruit of their actions (phalam asnanti karmanam). I see that creatures live off their own total effort (swam samutthanam)--even the Placer and Ordainer, as does this crane in the water" (33.6-7) 

And more perspective, not pretty so much as beautiful and profound. 

A tear-inducing story and song of grace and not giving up--despite the odds:

"The Formality of a Punch Line"

Listen, my friend! Don’t enter that narrow path where Krishna plays His flute.
If you go there and see Him, Krishna will capture your soul
and send you home with a shattered heart.
Rasakhan offers you some sound advice:
"Krishna has ensnared all of Vraja with His lyrical melodies.
Step carefully, and do not slip! His net is cast in all directions."
~Rasakhan

When we find ourselves facing an existential crisis, what resources or measures do we call upon? How do we validate our experience and the contrast between thought life and reality? How do we separate ignorance from correct perception, when one is not sure which is which? And ultimately, how does one transcend one's own (temporary) block or limitation so that the emphasis is not on the finite, but on the infinite?

I have a tendency to want to see la vie en rose. Thus the need to anchor my thought life to reality is something that is pertinent. And I suppose it is normal to have obstacles to face in order to reach spiritual desires and goals. Uncertainty arises because one or more of the three ways of gaining correct knowledge (pramana)--knowledge, experience, and validation---may be lacking. The practicing yogi and seeker would like all three of these to be in harmony: Then one can know that one knows. What sweet comfort that would be! And so what does one do in the meantime? How do we pursue experience, validation, and knowledge? 

We all are seeking something. If we are doing this sincerely, then it is to be expected that there is a process involved, which in most circumstances requires patience. So the question of in the meantime often applies to situations that await results. Example: One wants to live a bhakti-filled life. One perceives obstacles. One goes crazy trying to eradicate all obstacles. One realized one's dependency or limitation in the material world. One cannot see the future. One faces separation when one would wish for union. What does one do? If you read about bhakti yoga, then you may come across the notion that separation is where bhakti is most intense, so perhaps this is where we learn.

What do you do when your standard for knowledge is perception and visible evidence? The answer may well be in non-attachment and practice.

So, after a nod from a teacher to the klishtas and aklishtas, I began looking at Patanjali's Yoga Sutras in order to sort through the flood of thoughts that sometimes obscure my perspective at a decision-making juncture.

The suggestion I found there is that the best way to frame this question of what to do in the meantime is to look at the ways in which our thought patterns, which are multifarious, boil down to five kinds of thinking: correct thinking; wrong thinking; imagination; deep sleep; memory. This can be daunting at first, if one is unsure of which is which, and what is true, on a personal basis.

Sutra 1.2 states that yoga is the nirodhah (stilling) of the thought patterns of the mind field. With this stilling, the seer or true self, abides in its own nature. What joy would it be to still one's thoughts! This can be attained with practice, tapas (the fire of discipline), concentration, and other practices of yoga. 

Patanjali proposes that thoughts that interfere with self-realization are either colored (klishta), that is, not useful, painful, impure, troubled, negative, vice, leading us away from enlightenment and resulting in bondage -- or they are uncolored (aklishta) and thus useful, not painful, not afflicted, pure, not troubled, positive, virtue, leading us towards enlightenment, resulting in true freedom. Here, it says that thought patterns are "the colorings of our samskaras, the deep impressions that drive our karma or actions." So, observing a thought and deciphering if it is colored or uncolored is a useful practice. After all, if thoughts are the makeup of our actions and karma, we would do well to pay attention to their degree of distortion and let them run clear. From that practice of observation, decisions may better follow.

To detangle ourselves from our identification with mental thoughts, which are either klishta or aklishta, sounds very easy to say and I wonder how hard it is to do--especially when all areas of life seem to be bound up into one giant ball. But again, the next step is to observe whether our thoughts are colored or uncolored, useful or not useful, and it is said that this can be done as one goes about one's day. Once again, training the mind and its habits comes down to awareness and practice. And perhaps with this practice and the stages that ensue, we can reduce the coloring of thoughts that no longer serve us. So then, the various categories of life begin to become more and more transparent, matter of fact, correctly prioritized, and purified:

This means observing your fear of spiders, your desire for a martini or even for a kiss, your attachment to your health or home, and not letting those impulses rule you. That's the scent of freedom attracting you. Letting the colored thought patterns run clear is like removing the veil over the beauty of the deepest inner reality. And on another reassuring note: "This does not mean that one becomes inert or robot-like, without enjoying life and the world. Rather, it means that the coloring is not dragging us around by our senses, either externally or internally" (source).

To commit to this purification, one should cultivate the following efforts, according to Sutra 1.20:

The sutra reads: Others follow a five-fold systemic path of 1) faithful certainty in the path 2) directing energy towards the practices 3) repeated memory of the path and the process of stilling the mind 4) training in deep concentration, and 5) the pursuit of real knowledge, by which higher samadhi (asamprajnata samadhi) is attained. 

So to return to my seemingly thwarted spiritual life and material life indecision and discontent and seeking my path, i.e. my mid-life crisis, I wonder: What do we do when we want to program our spiritual path, but the way of doing so in the real world seems concealed? What do we do when we need more shraddha and virya in making a decision--now--so that we may commit the energy to go there? And what do we do with the silence that follows self-inquiry, prayer, japa (all our meager efforts to pursue higher wisdom) as we wait for some bhakti signpost?

In any dilemma, the ability to simply forego current limitations would be lovely, and indeed, certain frames of mind call for a radical departure from forms of limitation. One wants to set sail, wants to be a forest-dweller, wants to cultivate peace in a certain setting, wants validation, experience, knowledge--and if one can find the signpost and the means, then this is wondrous--but in instances of limitation that come from the world and karma and dependency on certain factors, real or imagined, I would say that wants wanting wants can create havoc. One can only hope the quest is not over if a false step were to be made. Spiritual pursuit requires also material support, dharma, and responsibility. With desires framed by those that are more pure in nature, one can still become flustered by living in the world without a highly individualized manual. Or perhaps this again is the working out of karma by grace, which requires time... and more practice.

In closing, a dream last night: I was waiting for Steve Martin to arrive to an engagement party I was attending by a little pond. It was an odd place, fenced in, quiet, and the group of ladies, one of whom was getting engaged, was telling me about a nearby grocery store. I was suggesting a sign be placed there to let others know of this resource, since there were no indicators as to the function of the place. They liked that thought. Then I was informed we were waiting for an event at this party: Steve Martin was coming to give a blessing to the engagement, and I thought this odd. He was to arrive on a tour bus. Why this formality just to bless an engagement, I wondered? Having no clue as to the meaning of this dream in the morning, I googled Steve Martin, and thanks to the wealth of fun reads on Wikipedia, I found the following passages (which, if nothing else, tickled my vritti):

Inspired by his philosophy classes, Martin considered becoming a professor instead of an actor-comedian. His time at college changed his life.
“It changed what I believe and what I think about everything. I majored in philosophy. Something about non-sequiturs appealed to me. In philosophy, I started studying logic, and they were talking about cause and effect, and you start to realize, 'Hey, there is no cause and effect! There is no logic! There is no anything!' Then it gets real easy to write this stuff because all you have to do is twist everything hard—you twist the punch line, you twist the non-sequitur so hard away from the things that set it up.”

Martin recalls reading a treatise on comedy that led him to think:
“What if there were no punch lines? What if there were no indicators? What if I created tension and never released it? What if I headed for a climax, but all I delivered was an anticlimax? What would the audience do with all that tension? Theoretically, it would have to come out sometime. But if I kept denying them the formality of a punch line, the audience would eventually pick their own place to laugh, essentially out of desperation.”

Martin periodically spoofed his philosophy studies in his 1970s stand-up act, comparing philosophy with studying geology: “If you're studying geology, which is all facts, as soon as you get out of school you forget it all, but philosophy you remember just enough to screw you up for the rest of your life."

Martin's first TV appearance was on The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour in 1968. He says:
“[I] appeared on The Virginia Graham Show, circa 1970. I looked grotesque. I had a hairdo like a helmet, which I blow-dried to a puffy bouffant, for reasons I no longer understand. I wore a frock coat and a silk shirt, and my delivery was mannered, slow and self-aware. I had absolutely no authority. After reviewing the show, I was depressed for a week."

I wonder if an inner--or outer--light will come on to light my path on this journey? The key is to laugh at oneself if one can. I will close with an image of a yoga pose back in August, a photo I thought to call L'Affito del sole--after a phrase from a Jovanotti song, Mi fido di te.

My Cousin Paolo

Because of a visit from my cousin (FL to NY), I had a surge of positive emotions and memories spring up, and the happiness he brought became like a peaceful river to sit by and have companionship, understanding and listening, and find appreciation in that togetherness. So it was only natural that I find myself doing something rare these days: going through old photos. The photos in this post are from the beautiful time at my uncle's house sopra Carini, in the Sicilian mountains, the birds singing all around in the morning, when every day I woke up and was lucky to spend with my cousin Paolo. I love Sicily and best of all, I loved sharing it in a new way with Paolo. Sicily became even more dear to me--she is so giving. In looking through these photos, I saw the thread of happiness from a former life come through to find me today.

That summer was different from other visits: I stayed with Paolo at his dad's house and connections to various cousins overlapped and made new intersections. The two of us developed a rationale for having a party for all of our family; and so the Amato family (from nonno's side) and the Randazzo family (from nonna's side) met and celebrated Independence day with us. More than 40 cousins came wearing red, white, and blue. There we were on the rooftop, the sunset turning the mountains around us a rose color as we told stories, laughed, ate, and took pictures into the night.

 

And these photos are other days... so relaxing by the sea and mountains with a full stomach:

Andrea falling asleep on the terrace after a delicious lunch together

Late dinners all together da Totò, lol

Asia loved to eat the mussels

We visited Elena and Totò's awesome family everyday and had lunch at Carlo and Tania's with Linda and the grandchildren and with Andrea's family in their home on the sea. We went to la spiaggia e la discoteca with cousin Alessandra and friends and danced outdoors. I felt elated to be dancing outdoors and discoteche on the water are particularly amazing.

The best was how la piccola Asia fell in love with Paolo.

We were like kids lounging away a mare and enjoying being in famiglia, tracing our roots in the air of our fathers' hometown with our family.

Paolo and I visited the celebrated beaches of San Vito lo Capo with Gisella's family the night before he left and had a great drive with the sunset preparing for his departure the next morning.

 

The adventures were plenty, delightful, and simple: we had gelato in the piazza our fathers grew up in. We saw stray dogs at night as we drove home up the mountain hill--and one time I thought one was getting hurt by another and made Paolo turn around to make sure they were alright. And they were--they were just copulating.

Paolo understood a lot of the Italian our family speaks and I also served as interpreter sometimes, which was fun.

He tried to make me espresso in the morning but it was really not that good and we joked and communicated through it all, and he reminded me of being young with my own brother again.

In all the photos I have of that June and July, I cannot find the sweet one I am looking for. In it I was happily resting my head on his shoulder, so content.

I did find this memorable one. It was taken at the Palermo airport by Totò, when Paolo was leaving Sicily and I was staying on. He had already changed his ticket once to stay an extra couple weeks after I decided to come to Sicily (after touring as faculty on a study abroad in Italy journey with Emory). So now that his extra time was up, I tried to convince Paolo to stay even longer since he is a digital nomad for work and as we were having such a grand time and had been excited concocting the big family party for July 4th. But he was very stoic about his dharma, reasoning in his own mind that he should keep his ticket. At any rate, he was going to leave for home though we all tried to get him to stay. Then, hours before his flight, when I got up to go to the bathroom in the night, he called my name and when I said yea, he said "I'm not going." And I was soooo happy.

So who could fault him the day it was time for him to go? Though we all thoroughly enjoyed teasing him about wanting him to change his ticket just one more time, which only made him smile.

That "Sicily happy" is how happy he made me this past weekend when he last minute decided to come to NY to spend quality time with me in Saratoga and at the Sadhana Center for Yoga and Meditation in Hudson, and it was a lovely weekend with Paolo, amazing teachers, and discussions. We lived another adventure together--and we both realized afterwards just how much we needed the break, the spiritual aspect, and the time together. After a lot of upheaval in my life, he still makes me smile inside like this photo (below right), that he took on the rooftop of me one evening:

In reflecting on all this, I can't help thinking of the wonderful poem that yogi & living inspiration Sondra read, "The Way It Is," by William Stafford.
There’s a thread you follow.
It goes among things that change.
But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.

And I see a beautiful thread in my life thanks to Paolo. My relationship with Paolo, the innocent adventures we shared, the love and appreciation and family tie therein, are like a thread of love and of connection in my heart. I am fortunate enough to have someone like him in my life, a touchstone. During the times when I needed a little patch of love, he was there to sew me up. He flew up from Florida in September '16 to surprise me on the day of my release from Sloan Kettering hospital in the city. He helped push my wheelchair around the Met to see a painting by Georges de la Tour after I got out. He was there because he wanted to be and made me feel so good after my third life-changing surgery, the ileostomy reversal. I hope that I can do that in some way for him too... lol, well not that exactly, but you know what I mean.

With my son/his godson in Saratoga, summer 2016

Sunset in Sarasota, FL, my 40th birthday with my favorite cuz

Ode to Friendship

This post is about a wonderful friendship, as my good friend of several decades had a very special birthday to salute this past weekend.

Carol and I "clicked" for life thirty-five years ago on the kindergarten playground in Lake George, as foretold by the fact we were both wearing bright corduroys and got along in silence as well as blabbing. Little did we imagine that our activities of letter-writing and sticker-trading would evolve over the decades into museum visits and collaborations. So I wanted nothing more than to celebrate Carol and help ring in another year of joy and rain, "bosom buddies" for life.

There were many highlights of the big weekend, one being the three hours+ spent at a table for two at Aldea in the city talking about the past, quirks and everything, marveling over the pastel de natas and falling in love with Portugal through its cuisine.

The birthday girl, pictured with glowing flame and pastel de natas

"You should smell this bread!"

Carol's selection for Saturday afternoon activities began with a ballet class. There was a cute baby girl in a pink track suit sitting on the floor with her mom when we entered, another sign that this was a precious occasion.

James was the instructor that morning at Ballet & Body (on E 65th). He is in an upcoming off-Broadway production of Fiddler on the Roof and his bulging calves reveal millions of tendu in his lifetime. He was a great teacher, and unintentionally funny. We started laughing quietly when we had to trace each letter of the alphabet with our toes extended to the ceiling, his voice calling them out, Aaaaaa, Beeeeee, Ceeeee, enunciating them exaggeratedly. I couldn't stop cracking up as he continued through all the letters of the alphabet and as our pointed toes did all the movements A-Z. (Fortunately, we were lying on our backs and not standing for the whole alphabet.)

Though I had done ballet for 14 years growing up, it had been two decades since I had felt the rhythm of a tendu warmup exercise at the bar on each side with the beautiful sound of the piano (note: not live, which makes Carol sad). I loved hearing words like old friends: dégagé, coupé, fondu, arabesque, possé, glissade, and there was even soutenu and soussou. The muscle memory was there (and very sore later) and memories came back. What energy unfolds within from visiting such an integral part of my early life, I wondered. Carol and I smiled as she mouthed to me to put on my socks and as he said something about firing a pianist (she is a pianist). It was lovely and perfect, and we marked the special occasion by taking pics and increasingly becoming sore as we walked the city afterwards.

Note: the dress code for the weekend: bag lady chic with a soupçon of Punky Brewster. As always, Carol has incredibly fashionable ideas, tinged with humor from the era in which we grew up. 

Tendu with James

Relevé 

It was an awesome class.

From there, a trip to the Morgan library, which involved a fun lunch in the cafe in the glass atrium, the light shining on us, her pink rosé cocktail budding with a huge magenta orchid. Afterwards, my mind was blown by the amazing book collection. I mean amazing: if you are a bibliophile you'd really appreciate the library. The Frankenstein exhibit was interesting to look at and ponder for a moment. This was when museum fatigue set in, just as we needed to head to dinner. Here we are in front of Wall Drawing 552D (Sol Lewitt, color ink wash, December 1987) in the atrium.

 

I personally loved the details on the book bindings in the library, the hearts and little flowers in particular. From the vaulted rooms of Morgan's library came a walk through literary history, all beautifully bound. Everything was overwhelmingly impressive.

The shelves shown on right, above, are all different works written by Voltaire. One can really appreciate how prolific he was!

The moral of this post? 

Friendship helps get the soul out of this feeling:

So, deep gratitude and heart to this lady, Carol, for all the wonderful, inspiring things she has shared and given to me over the years. I can't wait for Paris with you!

To Carol, all love, flowers, and laughs

Not only do Carol and I look forward to fun together, but for me, she is one of the most caring friends. She is the one who was experiencing the emotions before my colectomy two years ago, and the one who waited with my mom the eight hours of the surgery until she could see me come out of it. She was the one who brought me Patsy's pizza when it was time to try solid foods a week later. She told my sister to not tell me the news flash they had just seen on their phones, Prince had just died. She was there to walk with me and the IV pole on the third day--"so slow that it was like [we were] walking backwards." She painted with me in the recreation center and read a magazine while I participated in a makeup for cancer patients session. She brought me a Hello Kitty balloon. She and my sister videoed the PT showing me how to change my ostomy bag, so that I could remember how to do it at home. She walked many laps with me around the bland fourteenth floor hall, some photos of New York City and some other patients to see: She walked with me to help me recuperate. There are many ways that she was integral to my recovery, and to my life.

Merci beaucoup CAM,
xo