pranam

i had the impulse to share this experience with someone close and dear, someone who would read it and know it and understand me better because of it. but then instead of doing something insular and private i thought maybe i should share this openly, whatever that means.
this morning i woke up feeling sad and lonely. i was chanting, inviting god in, but i think inside i was resisting, holding on somehow to this old way of living, of waking. where i am a sufferer, alone and neglected. i didn't get out of bed until far too late, i didn't shower, i didn't eat. i just dressed and prepared to walk out the door.
in despair and desperation as i left, i laid my head down at the foot of my puja, offering my formal and physical pranam to krishna. as soon as my forehead touched the floor my body changed, my heart opened, my energy melted warm and deep into my core. such a simple action...it was like god was able to see my sincerity through my resistance and pour his mercy through me.
i am full of gratitude.

Discovery

I am spring cleaning today, and found this a bookmark I'd written someone else's poem on. I looked for the poem and found more than I had known was there at first, and I love the end.

---
Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not pray for the stilling of my pain,
but for the heart to conquer it.

Let me not look for allies in life’s battlefields,
but to my own strength.

Let me not crave in anxious fear to be saved
but hope for the patience to win my freedom.

Grant me that I may not be a coward, feeling your mercy in my success alone;
but let me find the grasp of your hand in my failure.

- Rabindranath Tagore
---
Jai Ho!

Heroism

This morning I wrote the rare post that belongs on both my blogs, so I am posting from my other blog here:

http://mathbebrave.blogspot.com/2010/03/heroism.html

Old letters

I've been reading through old letters and recycling. It's so satisfying to let them go.
Yesterday I found three things I wanted to share:

This first is from my dear friend Jody from high school. I hope she'll read this and be inspired by her youthful wisdom. We are made of intelligence, whether we realize it at the time, whether we're young or old, whether we're open or contracted. Thank you, Jody, for writing this then, and for the gift it gave me today.

"i have realized that my life has been lacking the spirituality i used to know so well. i accidentally allowed the Religions to intimidate me out of being spiritual in the same way that some Ladies try to intimidate me out of being a woman. spirituality ain't just going to church, as you well know, kind of like shaving your legs ain't being feminine. and i mean i've always known all this... but i just forgot to pay attention there for a while. i forgot to remember the things my spirituality is focused on (my body, other bodies, the moon, the earth, water, etc.)... i think because my spirituality is centered on concrete, tangible, everyday things, it is easily procrastinated or swept under the carpet. it is easy to write off as hokey new age hippie shit and it's not often talked about (not really) and i just forgot to remember.
forgetting to remember is an easy thing to do...
i forgot to remember the beauty of my belly, my breasts, etc. i forgot to wear my skin like a silky nightgown... and accidentally started wearing it like a cheap suit instead.
also: i live in a place where the sky never gets dark and the starts never stop hiding. and so it's easy to forget those things too.
i realized that i'm very, very good at listening to my body - i eat very well, i exercise well, i know when to sleep and when to get up. it's time to start hugging when i need it. it's time to start kissing when i need it. it's time to feel the earth beneath me - really feel it.
time to remember
and i might need help
and i might ask
you"

So what do we do to remember? Even two years I would have felt described by these words. But today I'm a lot better at remembering. A big part of it is my community, which reminds me with it's existence, with it's concentration, with it's activity. Meditating every day helps. Working with my teacher Harshada helps. Asking for help helps. Maybe just growing up helps. I hope so. I hope everyone remembers just a little bit more today than yesterday: that we each feel the beauty that we are, even if just for a minute; that we each feel connected to the earth beneath us, even if it's buried under many layers of transit tunnels and concrete; that we each feel gravity's pull towards the sky, even if we can't see the stars. It's all there, happening, and we are the proof.

This is another one from Jody, just a quick excerpt from a dream she had:

"i dream so vividly it's a wonder i feel rested in the morning. i dream in moonlight-drenched Technicolor. i sometimes dream in spanish. which is bizarre. some mornings i wake up remembering smells from my dreams. the too-strong perfume on the girl in front of me when i'm riding the bus. the smell of rain and wet dogs. most often i have flying dreams. constantly. not ever flying like cruising-through-the-air-arms-outstretched but more like floating. often i start out underwater and i move my arms up and down so i can return to the surface. only when i hit the surface i don't stop - i keep going up up up. when i'm about twenty feet above the water, i realize i can't go any higher so i dive back in. my favorite dream is the one where i teach my entire family (cousins and everything) to do it. we're in this sparkly, sunny lagoon place all by ourselves and we float lazily as high as we can go and then we dive deep."

This one does sound like my life. The moments of remembering are like that flying, floating up, and diving back in is just as nourishing, just as delightful. There are differences, there are boundaries that separate, but it's all so beautiful, either I'm flying or I'm diving, and I don't feel scared anymore, I just love the ride.

Somehow I hope that this blog - and all the beautiful things you do to pour your heart into the world - are the part where we teach our families to do it too.

Happy Valentines

I want to share my day with you.
Here is my waking, the bright sunshine, the revelatory dreams, the sweet longing for God and the dear knowing that he's near.
Here, the delight of a friend's voice as my alarm, and the warmth of my dog companion as I nestle just a minute longer under covers.
Here: the indulgence of sleeping in and not having any real responsibilities.
I want to share deep meditations, beautiful snow, long walks, tenderness with mother, easeful train rides;
new visions of the empire state building,
remembering my favorite restaurant,
eating there with my friend,
drinking tea,
seeing God in her,
experiencing wisdom in myself.

Here is Macy's on this holiday of love, all 9 floors of it, and someone else's memories of the comforts of old department stores.

Here: singing loud and in harmony on the streets of Manhattan.
Here: the sounds of each other's voices whispering and singing into the corners of a magic square in Grand Central Station;
the kindness of strangers, the acquisition of a timepiece, the 6 red metallic helium heart shaped balloons.

Here is getting onto the downtown 4 train with these 6 balloons. Here is them getting in the way of one man's head. Here is him telling a story of how the train couldn't take him where he wanted, and his frustration and acceptance. Here is giving him a balloon. Here is him suggesting that we give away the rest of the balloons. Here is giving them to the people who look like they want them, need them. Here is the man in a wheelchair asking for money, getting a red balloon, praising God, and saying "I love you." Here is saying "I love you" back with a touch on his arm.

Here is riding the subway with 6 scattered red balloons in the hands of strangers.

Here is chanting and eating with gratitude and love for God.

Here is prayers being answered whether you know it or not.

dream

This morning I walked a trail of tears in my dream, weeping and walking, two steps behind Hilary Clinton (may Bill be healthy for many years yet) among a crowd whose ends I couldn't see. I was so grateful to grieve, my heart so broken.
What had we lost?

Make it how you want it.

I reflected tonight on how my fear of disappointment or rejection has cultivated a passivity and hesitation, a smallness in my life. In relationships in particular, there were times in my youth when I asked for things I wanted from a place of insecurity, incompleteness, even desperation. This never felt good. It seemed like I wasn't going to get what I wanted, so I tried to just stop wanting. When I couldn't do that, I tried not to ask for what I wanted because I didn't want to feel desperate.
The thing is, of course, that the not asking didn't make the desperation go away. Gradually I got so I didn't totally know what I wanted. Like when I did vision boards, there would be big gaps where I just wasn't able to see clearly. So I'd offer that up to God and practice trust.

I am immensely satisfied in my life these days. I am not desperate. But this practice of not wanting, this smallness, is no longer serving me. Up until now, I have wanted to be chosen, by romance, by careers, by teachers. Today I am ready to fill out my capacity to create my own life in the way that I want it. With whatever power I have, whatever energy I manifest, I'm gonna try to practice knowing what I want so that I can practice using my energy to experience it.

Now I think I can practice wanting from a place of completeness, confidence, satisfaction, abundance. That's so different, it's hard to even call it wanting. But for lack of a better word, that's what I'm calling it. I'm naming my intentions. I'm taking action. I'm speaking with my voice. I'm making it how I want it.

For the record, I don't quite know what this looks like. But I think I can feel what it feels like. Big. Sure. Relaxed. Loving. Meeting whatever comes with presence and strength.

WNYC, Amen

After a sweet walk in the snow with my dog companion, I came home and listened to WNYC. I love public radio. I have always loved public radio programming, Radiolab, Cartalk, This American Life. But I haven't actually listened to the radio since I lived with my parents and they drove me places while we listened to it. Or those terrible memories of waiting rooms that played All Things Considered. That little music clip always made me feel depressed as a kid.

Since November, I have been trying to keep up with the news. It was an assignment from Harshada. Up until recently, I couldn't quite get the hang of it. I didn't want to read it online, I hate the feel of newspaper in my hands, I didn't know where to read it, whatever. News magazines? Eh. Then three weeks ago it just happened, like someone had touched me with a magic wand: I was listening to the news. My friend dogsat for me and when I came home, my amp was getting good reception and all I had to do was push a button. Voila. News while I putter. News while I shower and dress. I feel connected. Hearing the voices of people all over the world talk about their universes makes me cry. Amen for WNYC.

Plus, I get to listen to the news while I wash dishes. Ah, I love washing dishes now. Seriously.

I feel like I can do this adulthood thing. Because I'm not listening to the news because I have to, I really like it. I'm not doing my dishes because I've got to - done that for long enough. I really like it. It feels like magic, that this has happened to me. Who knew that these things that need to be done, these things that I want to have done, are also things that I enjoy doing. Amen.

This morning, since I was home later than usual, I got to hear the little BBC morning jingle for the first time (yes, I'm 29, I know) and it was so proud and exciting. I almost thought it was a joke, like a British comedy radio show. I think it may well have healed my early childhood trauma having to listen to All Things Considered in waiting rooms.

Thank you, WNYC, and all public radio. I love you.

Beginning

My Vedic astrologer Marga Laube encouraged me yesterday to formalize my writing practice. And since my recent (third) return from India, my spiritual friends have taken to jestingly calling me Bhakti Shakti, a revision of my year old nickname Bhakti J.
So I am here, showing up, making time, carving space, and taking on this name.

Bhakti is the hefty part of both nicknames, the beginning, the root. Bhakti means spiritual devotion, divine love, supreme union. Bhakti is a great source of joy in my life: I offer my footsteps, my breaths, my heartbeats, my waking, my eating, my typing these words, to God. Or I could say it another way: I love myself as I walk, as I breath, as I wake, as I eat, as I type these words. Or I could say: I love the world, everything I see and experience, Yes. The world, the whole universe, is all one big grand manifestation of the divine in form. This can be an intentional practice, it can also be a real spontaneously arising experience to see it as such.
When I first came back from India I had written all this love poetry to Krishna. I had put my forehead on the marble floor of a temple and felt the presence of God. I haven't felt alone since. So my friend Matt dubbed me Bhakti J.

Shakti is just the sanskrit word for energy. When I meditate or chant or say the mantra, my shakti - the energy that pulses inside of me - gets steamy, hot, like smoke in a hot fire, rising up and warming my physical anatomy and fueling whatever action I am doing with love, generosity and power. This time when I came back from India, my friend Kalima turned the name into the rhyme. She said she could see the energy in me, feel it from across the room. It's true: since I've been back I've needed to sleep less, I'm inspired to do more, I'm excited about the life that I live already, rather than always diving for buried treasure. I've got more to offer. My energy is leaky, overflowing on the top.

I love these words. I love that they rhyme. I love that my friends see these words in me.

I like too that the acronym they form is B.S. This reminds me not to take myself too seriously. To laugh at myself, whether I'm feeling low or fully enlightened. This is also something I sometimes have to decide to practice, sometimes something that I simply experience as truth.

I want to write about what that's like: to hop off the seesaw of enlightenment and contraction, of success and failure, of good and bad, as my teacher Harshada says, and just watch the play of the back and forth. Enjoy it. Laugh. Love.

A stranger on the subway platform asked me for money last week. I smiled. Then he told me, "I love you." I said, "I love you, too." I walked on, but it really hit me. I meant it. I received his love and genuinely extended mine.

Welcome, companions, pilgrims, fellow Bhaktas. Feel your own shakti tonight. Feel it's warmth, and let it heat you, love you, from the inside. Let it heat you up and then reach out to warm up and love those around you, whether they are your families, your partners, your students, your strangers.

As Joseph Levine said, "Let it shine!"