I've been in a strange energy space the past few days. It's not a bad thing, it's just not where I'm used to being. I don't know what is at the root of it but I feel like it's happening for a reason. I've been mentally busy trying to figure out the best way to approach the projects that I have going on at the moment. This is pretty typical for me seeing as I am always...always...always...over-committed. (c:
Some of us just really like running around like crazy people all the time. I promise. Or, we're masochists.
One of the hardest things about being over-committed is that I tend to forget all of the things that I've agreed to do and am only reminded when my phone alarm starts squawking at me for seemingly no reason at all in the middle of my work day, or I get a phone call from someone that seems to think that they know me and that I agreed to meet them somewhere...usually 10 minutes after I was supposed to be there.
All of this leads to some really great shoot-from-the-hip Improv on my part. If only I was that clever in real time.
So-in light of all of these Things I Have To Do I've chosen a mantra that is about self-respect, love, light and-ultimately-calming. It's a more commonly used and heard mantra but it seems appropriate since I'm feeling a bit wrung out and yet filled to the brim with unrealized Potential.
Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha.
You may have heard it before-there are some really beautiful versions of it out there that have been put to music. Deva Premal does one of my favorites. The guitar accompaniment is just so sweet and lyrical it seems perfect.
This is a mantra that is associated with and often said "to" Tare-which is a Bodhisattva of compassion. But, the gem of this mantra is that it can't really be translated. It holds a certain meaning or understanding of spiritual deliverance and release from the secular ties that bind-greed, hatred, etc.
I'm not a huge fan of delving into the argument as to which is better or more "right"-this world or the one that we can strive to reach via Nirvana-but I do really love the idea of being spiritually delivered, even if only on a small scale, from a place of bound energy to a place of free energy. A space where the soul can take a deep breath and simply sit. A place where it can be still and find quiet.
I was thinking about memory the other day and the space that it takes up in our mind and how we are always growing and changing but that memories stay with us. The truth is that memories are proteins-physical pathways and things that have been written in our gray matter. It's a beautiful concept really to think that people and places that we remember are actually physical things but that need our Spirit or Mind or whatever you want to call it, to be decoded.
None of that has anything directly to do with this mantra or this moment but it is a cool perspective to consider our minds and the things that they mull over and how and why. It's also an interesting way to consider the value that we place on things, mentally speaking.
While I was at Shoshoni Yoga Retreat I learned about the power of Svaha. We were sitting at the early morning Fire Pudja Ceremony and we were chanting and saying Svahas. I wasn't quite on board with it all but now, every time I hear it, I think about throwing all of the gathered energy around my heart center into the fire. It's done as an offering and as a way of purification. I think, for this mantra, it should be considered as a means of offering-offering yourself and your energy into the Universe. Letting it go for the time being and then waiting for it to come back to you as something more complete or just as it is and was, but as a gift this time. A part of you returning home.
I have a hard time with the idea that "we" or "our" energy is bad or impure and that it needs cleansing or changing--sometimes it just needs to be released and to have the freedom to wander and then come back to us. I feel that the only thing "wrong" with our energy sometimes is that it s limited to only us and that it needs to be shared amongst others.
Anyway-enjoy the mantra. Here is Deva Premal's beautiful rendition.
Namaste!
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Samskaras and a cycle of fear
The other night I was in my studio working on one of the hundred projects on my plate and Loreena McKennitt's "Dante's Prayer" began playing. This is, hands down, is one of my favorite songs.
You can find it here, if you'd like. I'll wait.
One of the lines that always haunts me is "..lift this mortal veil of fear" among many others-but this one stands out to me every time. It's such a common thing that people live with everyday-we talk about it in everything we do. The fear of the unknown, of how much money we're going to spend on a given item, the possibility that gas will rise again and again, all of it is expressed in terms of fear. If you don't believe me, listen to yourself the next time you say "I'm afraid of...(insert seemingly mundane thing here)".
I do this a lot.
Most of the time, it's not to express something that I'm actually afraid of but a set pattern of language use. For example, I will say things like "I'm afraid of what I'm going to find when I get home, I forgot to do the dishes this morning." Or "Yeah, but it scares me to think of what will happen if I fall off of the mountain bike"...etc. etc.
Am I actually afraid of my kitchen? No. (At least not most times hehe)
What I mean to express is a sense of discomfort or chagrin brought on my by own inaction. Am I truly, actually afraid of what will happen if I try this thing and fail when I'm on my mountain bike? Maybe-I'm arguably afraid of the pain or the idea of embarassing myself but it's different than actual Fight or Flight fear. What I am is nervous, anxious, uncertain. All of those are equally valid emotions but I feel that we tend to wrap them up under this veil of fear, to borrow the phrase.
I believe that how we speak and the way that we speak dictates a lot of how we think and what we believe-look at the effect that mantra, constant negativity, the idea of self-talk, historical concepts of witchcraft and incantations play and have played in our lives and our cultural foundation.
So, I'm going to aim to start changing my language. I'm hoping that through doing so I can begin to change my perspective on things and re-awaken some of that fearless child-brain that we lose sight of as we grow into "adulthood".
I value, above all else, the ability to keep learning. I value this so much that I turn an entirely blind-eye to research and researchers that preach the ridiculous adage "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" I get downright mad about it!
Could this anger I feel be stemming from a place of true fear of losing an element of myself that I value? Probably, but it doesn't change my stance.
We are creatures who are built, designed, engineered, created, whatever term you like, to learn and we can't do that if we're afraid of every new possibility or failure that awaits us around the corner.
Therefore-I am working on turning my mindfulness towards changing my language and my approach to new concepts.
This means not being afraid of my own feelings towards a specific thing-I have to be able to face the emotions that I experience when confronted with new things and process them as individual emotions, instead of lumping them under "fear" and trying to plow ahead.
Aside from dealing with and countering the "fear" reaction when it arises in a given situation, I find that I need to work on the value that Fear represents in my life as a whole. Sometimes, when I sit down to meditate I'm afraid of what will happen.
More specifically, I'm afraid that nothing will happen. I'm afraid that I'm going to waste my time sitting on this little square in the middle of a room with all these lofty ideas about what I'm going to accomplish and being met with a big, empty space of Nothing.
But it very rarely happens that way. I may not accomplish everything I set out to accomplish, but that's part of letting go of The Meditator. Instead, I am generally met with at least a sense of mental relaxation. It doesn't always have to be epic. I have to remind myself of this. And, if I am met with a stonewall of rigid energy, that's nothing to be afraid of. It's just a sign that perhaps I need to do something else and come back to it at a later date.
The idea of being face to face with my deepest, darkest particulars is also intimidating. But, without them, all the beauty and light within me would be missed as well.
So-here's to changing our patterns or Samskaras and learning to banish fear from our vocabulary when it does not suit us!
You can find it here, if you'd like. I'll wait.
One of the lines that always haunts me is "..lift this mortal veil of fear" among many others-but this one stands out to me every time. It's such a common thing that people live with everyday-we talk about it in everything we do. The fear of the unknown, of how much money we're going to spend on a given item, the possibility that gas will rise again and again, all of it is expressed in terms of fear. If you don't believe me, listen to yourself the next time you say "I'm afraid of...(insert seemingly mundane thing here)".
I do this a lot.
Most of the time, it's not to express something that I'm actually afraid of but a set pattern of language use. For example, I will say things like "I'm afraid of what I'm going to find when I get home, I forgot to do the dishes this morning." Or "Yeah, but it scares me to think of what will happen if I fall off of the mountain bike"...etc. etc.
Am I actually afraid of my kitchen? No. (At least not most times hehe)
What I mean to express is a sense of discomfort or chagrin brought on my by own inaction. Am I truly, actually afraid of what will happen if I try this thing and fail when I'm on my mountain bike? Maybe-I'm arguably afraid of the pain or the idea of embarassing myself but it's different than actual Fight or Flight fear. What I am is nervous, anxious, uncertain. All of those are equally valid emotions but I feel that we tend to wrap them up under this veil of fear, to borrow the phrase.
I believe that how we speak and the way that we speak dictates a lot of how we think and what we believe-look at the effect that mantra, constant negativity, the idea of self-talk, historical concepts of witchcraft and incantations play and have played in our lives and our cultural foundation.
So, I'm going to aim to start changing my language. I'm hoping that through doing so I can begin to change my perspective on things and re-awaken some of that fearless child-brain that we lose sight of as we grow into "adulthood".
I value, above all else, the ability to keep learning. I value this so much that I turn an entirely blind-eye to research and researchers that preach the ridiculous adage "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" I get downright mad about it!
Could this anger I feel be stemming from a place of true fear of losing an element of myself that I value? Probably, but it doesn't change my stance.
We are creatures who are built, designed, engineered, created, whatever term you like, to learn and we can't do that if we're afraid of every new possibility or failure that awaits us around the corner.
Therefore-I am working on turning my mindfulness towards changing my language and my approach to new concepts.
This means not being afraid of my own feelings towards a specific thing-I have to be able to face the emotions that I experience when confronted with new things and process them as individual emotions, instead of lumping them under "fear" and trying to plow ahead.
Aside from dealing with and countering the "fear" reaction when it arises in a given situation, I find that I need to work on the value that Fear represents in my life as a whole. Sometimes, when I sit down to meditate I'm afraid of what will happen.
More specifically, I'm afraid that nothing will happen. I'm afraid that I'm going to waste my time sitting on this little square in the middle of a room with all these lofty ideas about what I'm going to accomplish and being met with a big, empty space of Nothing.
But it very rarely happens that way. I may not accomplish everything I set out to accomplish, but that's part of letting go of The Meditator. Instead, I am generally met with at least a sense of mental relaxation. It doesn't always have to be epic. I have to remind myself of this. And, if I am met with a stonewall of rigid energy, that's nothing to be afraid of. It's just a sign that perhaps I need to do something else and come back to it at a later date.
The idea of being face to face with my deepest, darkest particulars is also intimidating. But, without them, all the beauty and light within me would be missed as well.
So-here's to changing our patterns or Samskaras and learning to banish fear from our vocabulary when it does not suit us!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Eating Elephants
So, we've all heard the "one problem at a time" adage. It's one of my personal favorites-mainly because I always need to be reminded that if I try to take on everything, all at once, and with zero direction...I will end up in a total disaster. There's always this voice in my head that argues with this "one problem at a time" decision...it's like the whiny little kid at the grocery store that everyone has just given up on that just really, really, wants the new toy...the kind that make you think putting kids in trashcans with sound proof lids should definitely be legalized.
Anyway-a version of this kid lives in my head and throws an epic tempertantrum every time I try to approach something...simply. I don't know why I offer such a fantastic resistance to a what is obviously a much more logical approach.
Habit, perhaps.
Habit, perhaps.
I think I've found a new perspective on my beloved "one problem at a time" mantra-one that won't set the whiny kid in my head off into another useless and stress-inducing fit of rage.
It goes simply like this: "it's not that hard to eat an elephant".
So when I heard this the first time, my brain did one of those "huh?" moments where you heard what the person said but it doesn't really compute and then you figure that you didn't hear them right so you ask, "huh?". But no, I had heard correctly. It's not that hard to eat an elephant. And what's more, regardless of whether you start at the trunk or the tail the whole elephant is going to be right there, waiting to be eaten, one bite at a time.
So when I heard this the first time, my brain did one of those "huh?" moments where you heard what the person said but it doesn't really compute and then you figure that you didn't hear them right so you ask, "huh?". But no, I had heard correctly. It's not that hard to eat an elephant. And what's more, regardless of whether you start at the trunk or the tail the whole elephant is going to be right there, waiting to be eaten, one bite at a time.
I think I have officially scared off any children who may have been listening in, waiting for their moment to strike!
It's so true, though. When you're faced with an entire elephant that needs to be eaten, there's only one way to do it-one bite at a time using the resources you have.
It's a bit gruesome, if you really picture eating an elephant one bite at a time, hide and all, but it makes a cliched concept into something that is practically tangible. It also speaks to one of these great concepts in life that I am so bad at sometimes. It implies that all you have to do is start eating. You have to make a choice and simply do something. No action worse than inaction and all that jazz. Again, so astoundingly simple and yet so hard to implement when your guts are all tied up with the stress and pressure of EVERYTHING that is building and demanding attention.
All of this could be greatly reduced if I could learn to say no...which I'm working on...but it's one of those things that I am just not hard-wired to do. I love opportunities and projects and engagements and all of those things. And, I hate paying for or missing out on things that I know I could do myself or, dare I say, do better than that other person...and so I take on all of these projects. They come in many shapes and forms and they all take me farther away from the more peaceful, mindful life I want to live.
Which, occassionally feels like a full time job in and of itself. The journey of being mindful threatens to consume me. Which is ironic if I think about it. Isn't it supposed to free me?
All I know is that currently on my plate is a really big elephant that needs to be eaten. One bite at a time. No souffles, no food processors...just me and my resources to get me through this stage of things.
I guess I should get to chewing.
All of this could be greatly reduced if I could learn to say no...which I'm working on...but it's one of those things that I am just not hard-wired to do. I love opportunities and projects and engagements and all of those things. And, I hate paying for or missing out on things that I know I could do myself or, dare I say, do better than that other person...and so I take on all of these projects. They come in many shapes and forms and they all take me farther away from the more peaceful, mindful life I want to live.
Which, occassionally feels like a full time job in and of itself. The journey of being mindful threatens to consume me. Which is ironic if I think about it. Isn't it supposed to free me?
All I know is that currently on my plate is a really big elephant that needs to be eaten. One bite at a time. No souffles, no food processors...just me and my resources to get me through this stage of things.
I guess I should get to chewing.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
and the mantra of the day is...
Om Vakrantundaya Hum.
I've been catching myself chanting this a lot on my drive to work. My radio is broken in my car and I've decided that driving with one earbud in, trying to listen to my MP3 player is a super bad idea. And, it doesn't do any of the music justice if you can't hear it in surround sound!
So, on some mornings I've taken to chanting while driving. It's about a 20 minute commute and it gives me something to do. I've also noticed that it seems to help keep me focused on just driving instead of getting so caught up in the frustrations of having to deal with Other Drivers.
Other Drivers are the ones that we all know and love who just make us so damn mad when we're driving. At least, they can really get to me. Especially when I haven't planned ahead like I should have or am dealing with too many things on my plate to care about someone else's well-being and Karmic consequences.
This particular mantra is related to Ganesh-the symbol of breaking down barriers and a really wonderful figure in Hindu spirituality. He is the one-tusked elephant and he's my personal favorite because I find that I am always running into some sort of road block-creative, emotional, communicative. It was first introduced in the Ganesh Purana, one of the Vedic texts.
I heard this mantra at a Yoga Retreat at the Shoshoni Ashram. A lot of what was being practiced there was over my head and a little out of my comfort zone (it was my first time at an Ashram and boy is it different!) but it really resonated within me.
So, on particularly slow drives into work or ones where it just doesn't feel like it's gearing up to be my day, I chant. I'm sure Other Drivers think I'm crazy, but I'm too busy trying to keep track of how many repetitions of the mantra I've done to really worry about.
Another thing I discovered while at the Ashram was the automatic sense of calm that chanting brings to me-it's like the best of both worlds! I get to talk and meditate at the same time?!?! Awesome! Sign me up! It's a way for me to interact with my environment, both externally and internally, while still cultivating some of that much sought after peace.
I'm hoping that as I continue down this path that I seem to be on that I'll discover more resonant mantras.
Until then, just look for the girl who seems to be talking to herself while driving down the road. It might be me!
I've been catching myself chanting this a lot on my drive to work. My radio is broken in my car and I've decided that driving with one earbud in, trying to listen to my MP3 player is a super bad idea. And, it doesn't do any of the music justice if you can't hear it in surround sound!
So, on some mornings I've taken to chanting while driving. It's about a 20 minute commute and it gives me something to do. I've also noticed that it seems to help keep me focused on just driving instead of getting so caught up in the frustrations of having to deal with Other Drivers.
Other Drivers are the ones that we all know and love who just make us so damn mad when we're driving. At least, they can really get to me. Especially when I haven't planned ahead like I should have or am dealing with too many things on my plate to care about someone else's well-being and Karmic consequences.
This particular mantra is related to Ganesh-the symbol of breaking down barriers and a really wonderful figure in Hindu spirituality. He is the one-tusked elephant and he's my personal favorite because I find that I am always running into some sort of road block-creative, emotional, communicative. It was first introduced in the Ganesh Purana, one of the Vedic texts.
I heard this mantra at a Yoga Retreat at the Shoshoni Ashram. A lot of what was being practiced there was over my head and a little out of my comfort zone (it was my first time at an Ashram and boy is it different!) but it really resonated within me.
So, on particularly slow drives into work or ones where it just doesn't feel like it's gearing up to be my day, I chant. I'm sure Other Drivers think I'm crazy, but I'm too busy trying to keep track of how many repetitions of the mantra I've done to really worry about.
Another thing I discovered while at the Ashram was the automatic sense of calm that chanting brings to me-it's like the best of both worlds! I get to talk and meditate at the same time?!?! Awesome! Sign me up! It's a way for me to interact with my environment, both externally and internally, while still cultivating some of that much sought after peace.
I'm hoping that as I continue down this path that I seem to be on that I'll discover more resonant mantras.
Until then, just look for the girl who seems to be talking to herself while driving down the road. It might be me!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Finding Stillness or The only way to make a To Do list.
The morning light comes through my living room windows as the sun rises over the city. It's quiet. The world that exists outside my apartment is just beginning to wake up. The mood is perfect for some self-reflection.
I jump out of bed, dress warmly but comfortably and step onto my meditation mat. I take a seat, arrange myself and sink into the softness of my own mind.
Right.
So, what actually happens is I drag myself, kicking and screaming so to speak out of my warm bed. I dress myself in a ridiculous hodge podge of layers in an attempt to recreate a walking comforter. I would be happier if I could just wear my bed. I sit down on my meditation mat, which is in "my spot" in the middle of the living room and I tell myself that I am in it for the long haul. An entire 15 minutes of stillness!
Except that I am a wiggly, squirmy, bouncy creature. I never stop moving, even when I'm still. My boyfriend has dubbed a particularly common version of my bouncing as the "larissa dance". It refers to any time when I am standing around, waiting for something-dinner, the bathroom, the coffeepot to finish doing whatever it does to make me my morning brew-and I begin to pedal my legs back and forth....like walking in place without actually picking up my feet. It's not a big movement but it is my notorious movement!
It's not that I can't sit still-I can. It just takes a concerted mental effort to remain that way. So, I sit down on my mat, ready to face my challenge. I sit tall out of the base of my spine, I press my sitz bones down into the mat. I pull my arms back, elbows tucked in and I close my eyes. I breathe. I count my breathing. I get distracted and forget where I was in my counting so I start over. I start to relax.
And that's where my Monkey Mind kicks in. Now I am not physically moving, I am mentally moving. It is a constant struggle between the list I am compiling in my head of the things that I have to do or where I need to go, or all the ways in which I am very clearly not Meditating and reminding myself that I'm supposed to be relaxing and breathing. Oh yeah, breathing. Wasn't I counting those breaths?
And so we start again.
Sounds miserable, right? It is and it isn't. I have a wonderful yoga teacher who tells us to "let go of The Meditator" (which, by the way, in my mind wears a cape and looks very much like a silly super-hero). His advice is sound: let go of that person in your head that is holding out for that magic moment when Meditation happens. Stop trying to Meditate and simply sit and be. In whatever state that is. Attempt to calm that monkey-mind chatter. If it doesn't work, so what? You've still got 10 minutes to get it figured out.
The struggle makes me want to give up. I think I'd find more success just making a stiff drink and calling it quits. The problem, however, is that I have had moments of bliss and calm--I have had a taste of that seductive flame that is a good, solid, meditational moment. The kind that truly soothes your soul, takes you outside of your own body and mind and leaves you feeling clean and calm and very, very capable.
I usually have mornings like the one I described above, though. And yet I keep trying. I know it's out there. I know that I'm out there. Waiting to be tapped into, I just have to let myself go.
At least, that's what I believe. That's what I've been told and that is what resonates within me in those rare moments between running and larissa dancing and doing laundry and working and Doing.
I am having an entire Monkey Day today it seems. As I write this I am tapping my foot to the music in the background, typing a million words a minute it seems and thinking about all of the other things that I should/could be doing with the precious little time that I have remaining to myself today.
The beautiful thing about meditation, even and maybe especially, a failed meditation (if we believe that such a thing truly exists) is that it is time that was spent on nothing but me. It was my moment, that I set aside and did something with that will help me connect with all my potential. Even if all I accomplish in those 15 minutes is a huge To Do list and some slightly restrained fidgeting, it is my moment to do with as I see fit.
I jump out of bed, dress warmly but comfortably and step onto my meditation mat. I take a seat, arrange myself and sink into the softness of my own mind.
Right.
So, what actually happens is I drag myself, kicking and screaming so to speak out of my warm bed. I dress myself in a ridiculous hodge podge of layers in an attempt to recreate a walking comforter. I would be happier if I could just wear my bed. I sit down on my meditation mat, which is in "my spot" in the middle of the living room and I tell myself that I am in it for the long haul. An entire 15 minutes of stillness!
Except that I am a wiggly, squirmy, bouncy creature. I never stop moving, even when I'm still. My boyfriend has dubbed a particularly common version of my bouncing as the "larissa dance". It refers to any time when I am standing around, waiting for something-dinner, the bathroom, the coffeepot to finish doing whatever it does to make me my morning brew-and I begin to pedal my legs back and forth....like walking in place without actually picking up my feet. It's not a big movement but it is my notorious movement!
It's not that I can't sit still-I can. It just takes a concerted mental effort to remain that way. So, I sit down on my mat, ready to face my challenge. I sit tall out of the base of my spine, I press my sitz bones down into the mat. I pull my arms back, elbows tucked in and I close my eyes. I breathe. I count my breathing. I get distracted and forget where I was in my counting so I start over. I start to relax.
And that's where my Monkey Mind kicks in. Now I am not physically moving, I am mentally moving. It is a constant struggle between the list I am compiling in my head of the things that I have to do or where I need to go, or all the ways in which I am very clearly not Meditating and reminding myself that I'm supposed to be relaxing and breathing. Oh yeah, breathing. Wasn't I counting those breaths?
And so we start again.
Sounds miserable, right? It is and it isn't. I have a wonderful yoga teacher who tells us to "let go of The Meditator" (which, by the way, in my mind wears a cape and looks very much like a silly super-hero). His advice is sound: let go of that person in your head that is holding out for that magic moment when Meditation happens. Stop trying to Meditate and simply sit and be. In whatever state that is. Attempt to calm that monkey-mind chatter. If it doesn't work, so what? You've still got 10 minutes to get it figured out.
The struggle makes me want to give up. I think I'd find more success just making a stiff drink and calling it quits. The problem, however, is that I have had moments of bliss and calm--I have had a taste of that seductive flame that is a good, solid, meditational moment. The kind that truly soothes your soul, takes you outside of your own body and mind and leaves you feeling clean and calm and very, very capable.
I usually have mornings like the one I described above, though. And yet I keep trying. I know it's out there. I know that I'm out there. Waiting to be tapped into, I just have to let myself go.
At least, that's what I believe. That's what I've been told and that is what resonates within me in those rare moments between running and larissa dancing and doing laundry and working and Doing.
I am having an entire Monkey Day today it seems. As I write this I am tapping my foot to the music in the background, typing a million words a minute it seems and thinking about all of the other things that I should/could be doing with the precious little time that I have remaining to myself today.
The beautiful thing about meditation, even and maybe especially, a failed meditation (if we believe that such a thing truly exists) is that it is time that was spent on nothing but me. It was my moment, that I set aside and did something with that will help me connect with all my potential. Even if all I accomplish in those 15 minutes is a huge To Do list and some slightly restrained fidgeting, it is my moment to do with as I see fit.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)