Building a Routine

February 27
The Meditation from the Mat messages today (I’m reading several at a time since it’s a library book and has to go back) have to do with not being too harsh with one’s self and not racing and running through yoga as one would a regular “sport.” If I find myself unable to achieve a posture or the deepness of one – or a state of mind that I feel I ought to be able to – my training has been like most Judeo-Christians, to feel shame and then to be angry with myself. These entries are teaching and remind me that it is not the yoga way. We should observe what happens, and let emotions swirl away. Boredom, frustration? They arise and pass away. If an asana or the pace is difficult . . . rest. In child pose or rest in the posture.
Then there were a couple about how most come to yoga through an exercise-type class, but find themselves hungry for more. They suggest the “more” is the yamas and niyamas. Which at first I suppose it is. How doing the physical, the asanas every day without the yamas and niyamas is like rowing your boat madly all night only to find in the morning you are still tied to the dock.

February 28
I had a long yoga session yesterday. 40 minutes or so. Some parts felt better than others. I still felt jerky and like I wasn’t sure how I should be moving from one to the other. That – how to get from one asana to the next when you haven’t worked up to the full Rishikesh sequence – and how to breathe – when inhale, when exhale – are two weaknesses of the text. I think I remember that in general one exhales as one enganges in movements that bring limbs closer to the trunk and when lifting, and inhale on the reverse. Maybe I can find a reference in the others, or maybe Van Lysebeth says in a general comment somewhere. He doesn’t include it as a part of each asana’s instructions, which I’d prefer. Before I begin today, I’m going to review all the directions for all four of the ones I’m doing, and maybe also the Locust and the first 3 parts of the Sun Salutation.
I realize I’m already spending 40 minutes, but I don’t have to spend as long in each posture or do all of them every day. It shouldn’t take me as long to get my breathing under control and get relaxed before I start as I get better, either.

March 1
[Pelvic pain had been getting increasingly worse; almost went to emergency room night before, resolved to make appt with ob/gyn today. Journal entries much taken up with whether or not to make appt for couple weeks now]

One of the Meditations from the Mat readings is about pride. It is amazing to me how much pride can still be a factor even when I am practicing in a room by myself where no one can see me. No one is going to laugh if I look ridiculous or struggle with something that “should” be easy. No one will ever know how long it takes me to master certain things nor how many mistakes I make along the way. Likewise, there is no one to congratulate me or stroke my ego for doing something well or learning fast. Yet I can’t seem to stop keeping “score” in my head, imaging an audience, imagining what Jim will say when he sees what I can do eventually. Fantasies develop around the first time I get to attend a class with others . . . how they’ll be amazed by my knowledge and stillness and form and grace . . .!!! And then I remember that I won’t know any, or few, of the asanas they do, nor how to move between them. Probably I will breathe wrong, and may have developed all sorts of bad habits. So the fantasy turns nightmarish, with everyone laughing at me, only they are too evolved to laugh – they just feel pity and compassion for poor little me who needs so much correction.
All of this in split seconds, then I realize – “What am I doing? What is the purpose of this again? To impress people when I visit an ashram some far away day? Or a random person who peeps over the fence some summer day? To wow Jim with my new flexibility?” But Pride has long been my enemy, my foe. And spiritual pride is the most insidious. It sneaks up on me in so many guises. Satya – honesty – is the way to combat it. I think to acknowledge that yes, there are parts of me that would like to show off how well they have mastered the asanas is helpful. Especially when I remind those parts that the honest truth is we need a lotof work to deserve the praise of others. We are in this for many reasons: the pursuit of ultimate liberation, health here in this life, increased widom, patience and compassion, better digestion – LOTS of reasons! If the ego’s drive for recognition helps get us through the hard parts, I guess it isn’t such a bad thing. It just can’t be allowed to rule the castle.
Hmmm. What a concept! Observing what is, in oneself, and accepting it! Not slating parts for immediate or eventual demoliton. This is kinda new.
Another reading (several actually) discusses the riches that come from small changes in our daily lives, the “doing the next right thing.” He talks about correcting his flat feet by learning to lift his arches in yoga. But it took a teacher. We can only see so much about ourselves; at some point one needs a teacher with more knowledge and wisdom who can see what you can’t. The Upanishads and Patanjali say if you do the work to get ready, when you are ready the right teacher will appear. But they were written in the social context of India, where there were teachers everywhere. What are my chances here? My only option is to trust their wisdom. Do all the preliminary work. Get as ready as I possibly can, go as far as possible on my own, and see what happens. I can always drop in at the downtown center, too, to see what it is like. I shouldn’t reject it without every visiting.
The third yama is asteya, non-stealing. What are all the ways I steal without thinking about it? Borrowed books unreturned? Work time in which I am unproductive? I think I make up for that in spades. “When we look honestly at the ways in which we’ve been stealing, we come to understand that in each instance, there is an attachment to a specific result that overrides our deeper values.” P.42 “Beneath the attachment we find fear.”
He provides a sutra that speaks to that fear: “When abstention from stealing is firmly established, precious jewels come.” Yoga Sutra If he’s right, which he surely is, all we have to do is trust. Trust that the Universe will take care of us, will provide what we need and what will give us deep pleasure. If you really, really believe this, there is no need to steal anything from anyone. Not time, food, money, a kiss, a compliment . . . you can just relax into the faith that whatever it is that you need is on its way to you.

March 2
My yoga practice really is taking 40-45 minutes every day and leaves me in a great state of mind to meditate. I guess I need to get up even earlier or something so I can add 30 minutes, or at least 15, of that to my routine. I have to begin making some kind progress on knowing my Self. I feel panicky about it, as if I’m racing the clock, which surely isn’t the right frame of mind in which to find the most healing parts of myself. Maybe after I see the doctor I’ll be able to let some of the anxiety go.
Wow. The first reading included the quote, “Our vision is beclouded and the pathway of our progress is obstructed until we come to know that God can and does express as Good in every person and every situation.” – Ernest Holmes. Rolf talks about how students come to him with anxiety over physical ailments and problems in their lives and he used to tell them that those were opportunities to be mindful. Now, he says, he thinks about it as an opportunity to pay closer attention to what we do, and to put our faith in our ability to heal. “We are not meant to be on the edges of our seats, anxiously paying attention so that we can control events and outcomes. We are meant to stand firmly in the postures of our lives, bearing witness to the moment, to our experience of the moment, aware as we do so that, in the words of Charles Johnston, ‘we are encompassed and supported by spiritual powers’.”
Maybe all I need to be doing right now is be aware of myself experiencing this pain. Stand in it, and do my best to feel the support of the universe. Have faith in my ability to heal myself. Yesterday I did have a cool moment of feeling the earth spinning on its axis, me a part of it, held by its gravity. Have faith in healing like I have faith in that, that I won’t fall off the planet.
The last yama is chastity, brahmacarya. Temperance. Literally, to walk with God. Gates makes the loud point, or point loudly, that to interpret this as celibacy is to miss the point.

Body and Mind

February 8, 2009
The reason I was so upset is this – I had worked until 3 or so yesterday, then did half an hour of yoga, which felt great everywhere except my butt, which felt as if I’d torn something open. Earlier I thought I’d maybe hurt the healing surgical wound because I’d begun bleeding there again. I hopped in the shower and realized it wasn’t the old wound torn open. No. I have a brand new hemmorhoid. Why? I have been doing all I was told to do! I have done all I can think of to stay healthy. I began yoga almost as soon as I thought I was well enough, and in fact, it might have been too soon. Maybe the asanas I chose were wrong. I don’t know. I’m just trying to do my best.
There is absolutely no way I am going through another surgery like that. So now I’ll have lived through that hell but STILL have hemmorhoids? It’s enough to make me scream. Makes me wish I believed in a God I could yell at.
I am not giving up on yoga, that’s for sure. My new plan is to go through Turlington’s book and find all the poses that are good for the colon, rectum, small intestine, spine, and right torso. Make a list, then figure out which asanas are the building blocks for those, and create a routine that enables me to learn and master the basic asanas, integrating the more complicated ones whenever I feel my body and spirit are ready. Make it so that there is a little variety from one day to the next. And then I’m going to stick with it. Every day. I hope that at least 3-4 days a week it will lead straight to meditation.
That is all I can think of to do. I feel like my body is so weak, so vulnerable. It just can’t take very much more. It needs a great deal of kindness. I was so angry at it yesterday. But how is that helpful? Or fair? Or kind or compassionate? It is not my body’s fault that it has been ravaged by shingles and an incorrect signal to attack itself instead of the shingles virus. I’m sure it’s very sorry. It is not its fault that its genetic code is programmed for weak rectal veins and endometriosis. Our only way out is to recognize that we have to work together. I need my body to stop fighting me, and I need to stop fighting it. Since I’m on the side (by definition) of the ability to have the symbolic idea, I need to lay down my “weapons” first.
No more hateful thoughts. No being angry at body parts for their failures. No skipping doses, no forgetting Activia. Plenty of sleep, vegetables, fluids and spiritual discipline. This is the best I can do. If my body continues to fall apart despite my best efforts, at least we’ll be friends while it happens. Maybe it can be more gentle, less fearful and anxious that way.
The “meditation from the mat” for yesterday was about Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. Why didn’t I just read that when I got it for J? It’s up next, after the Upanishads. Anyway, the eight-limb path of Patanjali’s, which he put together from the scriptures, is so straightforward one doesn’t really need a lot more commentary or instruction.
So how is it, again, that I always understood about the yamas and niyamas, but then jumped right into svadhyaya – self-study, skipping right over the other first two tapas, the asanas and pranayama?
The MfM describes pratyahara this way: turning inward, as “the mind withdrawing from the senses of perception.” Where dharana, concentration, can occur. “The Light of our awareness can begin to shine on our soul. The deepest form of connectedness is now possible.” P.5
Why did I believe I could get to the end by skipping two parts? I guess because the Upanishads, the jnana yogi way doesn’t stress it, nor does Krishna. But it is there – a constant given. Hatha is the underlying assumption they all took for granted and I, in my Western, Cartesian ignorance, kept leaving out.
The MfM concludes that all that is necessary to undertake a yoga practice is: “We must simply remain open to our own spiritual potential and be willing to take action on our own behalf.”
Chapter 2 of the KsU felt like it was tying right into what Stephenson’s [Neal – Anathem] characters were saying about consciousness. He has one of them arguing that the mind functions as if it were a multi-celled organism in which the indiviudal cells had evolved in order to communicate with one another across sensory modalities. i.e. one could hear, one smell, one see, etc. How does something that only hears communicate with something that only sees? Or smells? They’d have to develop a shared language mutually. Functionally, that’s how our brains work, how they deal with sensory information. I’d just read that, and then the KsU 2.1 says,”Brahman is breath . . . now, of this breath that is brahman, the messenger is the mind; the guard is sight; the crier is hearing; and the maid is speech.”
But the rest doesn’t explain any of this. It just says if you know this, you’ll have messengers, criers, etc. And that the vital functions or deities bring offerings to a knower without having to be asked. I guess that means that once you understand it, the vital functions are under your control and are generous with you, kind of like how my body isn’t, right now.
2.3 tells how to do a ritual to get objects you want. I think the significance is that instead of praying and sacrificing to the gods, one directs all the parts of the ritual to the vital functions – speech, smell, sight, hearing, mind, intelligence. More ritual instructions though 2.10.
2.11-13 reiterates stories fro the other upanishads, establishing breath as the pre-eminent, most important vital function.

Me and Me and Me in a Dream

February 4, 2009
In the dream – well, before the dream, when I went to bed Indy [my cat of 12 years] settled between my body pillow and my belly, kind of propped on a hip and an elbow and my chest. I could feel her touching several places and knew if I shifted at all I’d disturb her, which I hate doing because it is so rare she sleeps on me rather than beside me. It was very cold night, on the below side of zero with gusting winds, and she was willing to share body heat. I think her position influenced the dream.

In it, Indy and I walked out of wherever we were for a stroll in a beautiful landscape. We were enjoying one another’s company, frisking and communing and feeling free and in sync. All of a sudden, when we were some way from the safety of the place we’d come from, a bunch of squirrels and four or five rabbits shot out from around corner and a hole/door in the structure we were just approaching. Some birds may have taken off, too. All these animals appeared and then zipped off across our path, obviously running for their lives. We were startled, maybe the fight-or-flight response already beginning in us. And then the predator appeared. A yellow-grey mountain bear\rottweiler\wolf\hellhound\lion\cheetah thing. He was a mix of all the scary wild animals I imagine, I guess. His fur was matted and dingy, yellow-gray rather than golden, but his eyes were pure gold. He’d been hot on the trail of the rabbits, but when he saw Indiana, who was much bigger than them and I guess therefore a better meal, he came to a dead stop.
Indy, in a crouch since the first startle of the animals, went completely frozen. I moved faster than I ever have in real life. I bent and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck – something I’ve never done and don’t think would be smart now, she’s so big. But I did, supporting her weight quickly with my other hand and pulling her tight against my body. She was just still and alert. Not a dead weight, and not trembling.

But now what? His attention had shifted to me. Previously he hadn’t really cared that I existed. Now he did, and he was laughing at me. Daring me to try anything. And he was right. I needed both of my hands to support Indy; if I let go with one, she’d either dig into my flesh with her claws so deeply the pain would distract and weaken me, or she’d fall and be eaten by the creature. I had my feet. I could kick, which I did the first time he took a step. I think I even connected with his muzzle, but all it really accomplished was to give him a measure of my strength. Or lack thereof. What could I do? I was getting really desperate. Terrified. I couldn’t turn and run back to where we’d come out of. I knew he’d attack then, kill or maim me then run off with the baby. My Indy.

I was wondering if there was some way I could turn Indy around too, let her natural attack abilities work with mine to help us escape while still protecting her. Or would that just get her killed? Was I going to get her killed anyway? No matter what I did?

I cannot convey how awful it was. How frightening. How helpless and frustrated I felt. Because the solution seemed just out of reach. A whole series of “if only’s” went through my mind. As I looked into the animal’s eyes, the certainty that I was trapped, largely by doing the only thing I could do – pick up my cat – my frozen cat, before she became someone’s dinner. And I woke up.

Indy was still there, which soothed me somewhat, but I could not shake off the effects of the dream. I was still full of adrenaline, still frightened, still feeling bereft. That piercing loss. Since Indy was with me, and purred as soon as she felt me wake, I began to worry that the dream signified the loss of someone else dear to me.

This morning, after telling the dream to J, I realized that Jung would advise me to analyze it as if I were playing all the key roles. J said, “Or just forget it.” But it was too powerful to just forget. Too emotional to be meaningless. To packed with meaning to perform no analysis. Some dreams are just a recycling of the day’s work, making sense of sensory input; mental housecleaning. And some dreams are not. Some are powerful, important, encoded messages from the unconscious, or pre or subconscious mind. I believe that because subjecting such dreams – mine and others – to analysis has produced tremendous insights in the past.
So, who am in the roles of myself, Indiana, and the predatory lion/wolf/creature? Well, what most terrifies and disgusts and threatens and disrupts my life right now? For many it might be the economy, their jobs or fear of losing them or something like that. But for me it is most definitely disease, pain, and illness. If we ran with that for a moment and said the predator is the part of me eaten up with pain and illness, threatened by disease, what does that make the other two?

At first I was tempted to say, “I am me,” but that is hardly illuminating. That was a part of me that responded quickly – first assessed the situation and determined the danger, responded decisevely and bravely, selflessly out of love for a friend. Her focus was intently on Indy. A warrior. But maybe too protective? Because she didn’t give Indy a chance to defend herself. Maybe Indy wasn’t frozen but biding her time? Waiting for the cat/wolf/thing to make the first move? The me-woman will never know now, since she intervened to “save” Indy and only ended by getting them both stuck.

Then who is Indy? Who is the best friend, with whom a simple walk is pure joy? Is that atman? Or maybe the part of me that is ready for yoga, wants to meditate every day, has the discipline to pull out the scripture each morning and will lead us to the new, healthier, more spiritually rich life? Indy was ahead, leading, by the way. So does that mean that the healer/yoga part of me is so vulnerable, so fragile or frightened that it is frozen by the sight of disease and pain?
I have certainly used it that way, saying I’ll begin seated meditation again and yoga once I’m healed up from this last surgery; or I’m in too much pain to focus right now . . . I use the mantra a lot, and nothing keeps me from intellecualizing the scriptures. But if Indy represnts the experiential part. . . could it be that the warrior part only thinks that joyful part is vulnerable and in need of protection? Maybe she was finally getting it when she realized she needed to allow that part, Indy, to help protect hersef, protect them both with her claws and her instincts.
I know I had a terrible fear that I was going to lose whatever Indy represented, in part because I had acted so quickly to protect it. Maybe there is a lesson there, too, about not being so frightened of the pain that I allow it to dictate my actions. Force myself to remain calm, assess, evaluate what is best in the long term for all, and only act then. Perhaps inserting that pause will enable me to see that the best course really is to meditate or pursue yoga, not see another doctor or read scary articles on WebMD or something like that. I confess that negative Pap is haunting me a bit. I know the answers – yoga and meditation. Why not start today?

Prana 101

January 29, 2009
My Upanishadic lesson today is a parable in which a boy learns from various animals that brahman is far flung, limitless, abode-posessing and radiant. This is in the CU 4.1.1-10. Each of four creatures reveals one quarter of brahman, but he still wants to hear it from a human teacher. I think that is largely out of respect.

Then in CU 4.1.10 that boy is the teacher, and he won’t teach this one student. His wife keeps saying, “You better teach him, before the fire beats you to it.” But he ignores her, and sure enough, the fire tells the student, “Brahman is breath; brahman is joy; brahman is space.” He says he understands the first part, but how can the others be right? How can brahman be joy AND be space? “They are the same thing,” says the fire.

But the explanation is more of those semantic, metaphoric chains of signification they so depend on in their magic; this word is like this word which is like that object which comes into the world the same way this does and therefore this last thing equals the first thing. Huh? [I unfortunately fell asleep here – drugs took me off so the pen just trails into unreadable, which is unfortunate because I think I was onto something.]

January 30
One last health thing I forgot to report that is preying on my mind a bit: my nurse practitioner called to tell me that the results of my PAP were abnormal, so she had them re-tested specifically for the HPV strain that causes cancer, and that was negative. She said that meant all we have to do now is wait and make sure I get tested again in 6 months, and step up the testing schedule. Of course, my mind stattered chattering away; why only the HPV test? Is that the only thing that causes cancer? And for a little bit I felt dismay, that “Oh no! How can one more thing go wrong” feeling. I haven’t even had a chance to demonstrate what I’ve learned from this last round!
I just have to trust her. Take the rest of the winter, spring, summer and early fall to put into practice what I think I’ve learned. Begin to incorporate my body into my spiritual development and discipline by learning yoga, and when I go for my physical in the fall, the results will hopefully reflect a changed reality. We will be eating from our garden and the farmer’s market, getting the exercise from gardening and walking in our neighborhood in addition to yoga, so my body ought to be super happy. We will just make it a place where cancer does not feel welcome and cannot find a foothold.

Turning to the fifth chapter of the CU, it begins with a series of statements that Socrates might not have argued with in principle – to know good is to do it. “When a man knows the most excellent, he becomes the most excellent.” In v.1, the “best and greatest” is breath. V.2, the “most excellent” is speech. V.3 the “firm base” is sight. V.4 “When a man knows the correspondences (sampad) his desires, both divine and human, are fulfilled. Correspondence is hearing.” V.5 Refuge is the mind.

We’ve seen these – breath, speech, sight, hearing and mind presented before in various ways. Sometimes with other things like smell, touch and taste as well. They are, together, the vital functions – prana. Sometimes prana seems to refer only to breath, and sometimes to all of them together. Verses 6-15 explain why, telling the same story told in the BU about how the vital functions argued about which was most important, agreed that each would leave for a year. Speech leaves, and the body lives like a mute for a year. When speech comes back, sight leaves, and the body lives for a year like a blind man. Then hearing leaves, and the body is deaf; when the mind leaves, the body is a simpleton for a year. Each of the years has its difficulties, but the body gets along. Then comes the breath’s turn. When breath tries to leave for its year apart, it so jerks all the other vital functions, in the way a fine horse would jerk all the stakes to which it is tethered, that they all gathered around him and implored, “Lord, please stay! You are the greatest among us, do not depart!” v. 12.

This is really helpful. I found it super confusing in some contexts. Studying the Upanishads sometimes feels like an uphill battle, or like a . . . not useless, but a task that will bring little benefit. A kind of luxury, intellectual playing at something, because the culture of the authors is so far distant from me in time and space and - - culture. How can I possibly know what they might have meant? The translation I have I’m sure is very good, because I trust his notes as a scholar. He explains why he makes the decisions he makes, who he is following and why, etc. But he is not a Hindu. He’s not an Indian. There is much about the culture he can’t explain, and there is much about the philosophy I don’t think he even begins to understand. The more I read, the more I realize that for him the scriptures are a very challenging and intriguing linguistic puzzle/task/work. And for that we can maybe trust his scholarship more; he has no side, no concern for how the chapters are interpreted spiritually. But that doesn’t help me get when I’m stuck philosophically.

So I was saying, sometimes it does get to feeling a bit too dry and scholarly for me. What does it mean that the breath is so important? I mean, both the BU and CU speak endlessly about it, and Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita and the Uddhava Gita said we had to get it under control as part of our devotion and discipline. How could I so blithely ignore that all this time? Doesn’t it mean that it isn’t just asanas I must add to meditation, but pranayama? Likely all the yoga methods include pranayama . . . or all the good ones.
I wonder if, after I have learned experientially some things about breath through those practices, if all the scriptures will take deeper significances. Like the Gita did after I had a mantra, and the U. Gita did after I’d been meditating. It still comes as such a shock to me – the person who has always lived so much in her head – that there are things that MUST be learned that CANNOT be learned with the mind. Whoa! Hunh? As an anthropological theorem I liked the idea of embodiment, embodied culture. It seemed true. But I still wasn’t really getting it, because I wasn’t putting my body through the experiences it needed to learn things.

In the end of the CU 5 comes a description of a collection of wealthy and wise households, all intent on learning more and understanding better what atman and brahman are. They travel together to two teachers. The second asks them each in turn what he venerates as brahman. Each has thought about it, and each has a different answer. Sky, wind, space, earth, sun, waters. The guru says to each, “That thing is brahman, but it is just the (head, foot, breath, arm, etc.) of brahman. Venerating it is good, it has brought you wealth and a family and standing among your people, but if you had continued to be so limited in your conception it would have killed you.” Waters are the bladder; it is good to have one, but if you keep filling it constantly, the bladder will eventually burst and kill you, sort of thing.

He gets them to see that brahman is all of that. All of those things at once. Then he gives them instructions for a ritual which the notes say became a very important one in the brahmanical tradition. In fact, it seems like one I could maybe do. With food, when eating one makes sacrifices in order – to the out-breath, the interbreath, the in breath, the link breath, the up breath, each time saying, “To the out breath, svaha.”
This rite is called praagihotra – the fire sacrifice in the vital breaths. Svaha, recall, is a word used in rituals that has no actual meaning. A ritual call to the gods. This seems an easy enough blessing, right? Especially once one knows what the breaths are?

Oooh. I decided to keep going and stumbled onto a treasure. First, it begins with a father requiring that his son go away and study rather that be a Brahmin in name only, which reminds me to record that there have been several indications that caste is more than a matter of birth at this time; in fact, birth is sometimes demonstrated to be irrelevant.

What Chapter Six is really about, though, is how the universe(s) – cosmos – come into being and how that determines the nature of the composition, development, and relationships. This is presented as a secret teaching; something the son was not taught at his Brahminical, Vedic school where he became arrogant and swell-headed. The father begins by presenting the “Law of Substitution,” which is almost cool enough. He says, “By means of just one lump of clay one would perceive everything made of clay – while the reality is just this, its clay.” He says the same with a copper trinket, by which one can perceive everything copper, and an iron tool, by which one could perceive everything iron, “It is a verbal handle, a name, while the reality is just this, the thing.”
I said this to C (a houseguest), said “think about this for awhile” and he said, “Well now, I’ve been thinking about that, about how the Bible says ‘In the Beginning was the Word.’ Why a word? What does it say there, does it say logos” I was stunned, because the very next part of the scripture is about the origin of the cosmos! “In the beginning . . .” I about fell off my little donut-pillow! How in the world had he made that leap? I said “That’s amazing!” and I read him the next part and we began discussing the merit of various origin stories, the meaning of the Garden of Eden myth and my rocky relationship with it and my current peaceful acceptance of it as a myth that explains god’s gift of choice and the pain of growth and knowledge. Then we got sidetracked by making menus and whatnot and I only just now got back to thinking about what this verse means and I just aksed him what his thought process was, how did he get from the thingness of a thing to the origin of the universe?

His answer made perfect sense; he was thinking about the word. Why IS it a “Word” that exists first? These verses insistence that it is “just verbal handles” while the reality is something else had made the connection. He was thinking about the Bible verse “the Word became flesh” and wondering if things aren’t existent until we name them. Do they have reality in and of themselves, beyond the words for them?

The Upanishad is saying yes – penetrate the word, the verbal handle, the mere name, and you will get to the reality of the thin-in-itself. Once you perceive the reality of copper or clay in one thing, you get “copperness” wherever copper is. Okay, so why does the Upanishad make the leap to the origin? To “in the beginning”?
It explains that this cosmos was “simply what is existent – one only, without a second” CU 6.2. Meaning there was a deity/being/consciousness/thing that existed befere/outside the cosmos. The father explains that some people teach that there was no existence – nothing – and out of that nothing, existence emerged, but that is wrong. The One existed, and it said to Itself, “Let us be many. Let me propogate myself.” And it emitted heat. Out of the heat came rain, and out of the rain came food. So these are the three essential characteristics of the deity and of every aspect of the cosmos; heat, water and food – according to this teaching.

In 6.3 he establishes that there are only 3 sources from which all creatures originate. More importantly, 6.3.2 “Then that same deity thought to itself: ‘Come now, why don’t I establish the distinctions of name and appearance by entering these three deities here with this living self (atman) and make each of them three-fold’.” In every thing, heat, water, food – red, white, black – are present in different quantities and distributions. Is this the origin of the three gunas? Like some of the early teachers/sages were figuring things out and got different pieces, and eventually it coalesced into the formulation presented in the Gitas and Puranas, which hangs together so well it hasn’t been seriously changed or challenged since.
Geez, reading one of the footnotes where he actually provides some insight makes me realize how very much I am NOT getting out of these scriptures. Well, it is a first time through. I’ll have them forever. One has to begin learning somewhere.
A little taste in CU 6.8.7, it concludes with “and that’s how you are, son.” Olivelle defends his translation, saying it is often translated “That art Thou.” The latter is impossible, claims Olivelle, because the pronoun ‘tat’ cannot refer either to ‘sat’ or to ‘animan’. The Sanskrit of the contested text is tat tvam asi. Anyway, the phrase “does not establish the identity between the individual and the ultimate being (sat), but rather shows that (the son) lives in the same manner as all the other creatures, that is, by an invisible and subtle essence; it indicates the cause of his existence.” P.349
The father has shown that the “whole world exists because of the essence, which is the truth and is lasting and real. It is the self, for everything exists in relation and reference to it. Then the father personalizes the teaching by making the son realize he should look upon himself the same way – he, like the tree and the world, is pervaded by the essence, which is his final reality and his true self.”
I was getting some of that, but not all. Ah well, how fun would it be if there was nothing to go back for?

The Very Real Body

January 24, 2009
[I’ll spare you the details – a beautiful journal ended on descriptions of pain and mess of the hemerhoid surgery, which I bring up because):
Isn’t that exactly what I am supposed to be learning right now? That the “dirt” of life, and the messiness of the body are just as much me and as important to my journey, my spiritual growth, as the sublime, the ecstatic, the intellectual moment? I know this year I need to have a lot more experiences with my body. Yoga, obviously. Walking, working in the garden, smelling flowers and incense and just trying to learn to experience the Divine in ways that aren’t filtered through my brain so much. And I’ll try to NOT write about all of them, either! : )

January 25
[Just to give you a taste of what trying to truly live in my body was like at the time . . .]
I don’t know if I can do this. I am more miserable than I know how to describe. Broken glass is a fairly good description of how it feels inside my rectum, except it doesn’t capture the sense that there is also a wound that has healed shut that I must break. I’m repeating myself. Its just that the more stressed I get, the more my PHN [post herpetic neuralgia] flares. The higher the pain level, the less control over my heart rate, blood pressure, tension. So the sphincter spasms, which is AGONY – chewing glass with your butt. I actually have bands of pain across my nose and cheeks and a few other strange sensations, all derivations of the extreme pain my behind is in. It’s like a kind of shock, I think. Nausea also playing a role, of course.

January 26
I am finally reading the Changdogya Upanishad, which is focused primarily on the High Chant, OM. The texts are not as easy for me to enter into as the BU, because they largely provide history, theory or rationalization for ritual. Or instruction for rituals that are laid out in the Vedas and most of which I don’t imagine I’ll ever pick up. Of course, that isn’t necessarily true. Ritual is important and I’m not knocking it. But I didn’t grown up with these, I’ve never seen them, I have no idea if they are – or which ones are – ancient history and never practiced now, and which are daily habits for modern Hindus. I don’t have access to a temple or any of the appropriate priests. In fact, I know that some of these priests – the Udgatr, Saman and Prastotr priests have been replaced by those for the gods from the Mahabharata.

I’m learning what I can. Getting a better feel for how scriptures and stories work, in themselves, in India. And the role of the Upanishads. I see better why it is called the Vedanta, the “End of the Vedas,” but yet is still classified as part of the Vedas, part of Vedic time. It is very in-between. At one momen very magical – mix this, say this, stand here and eat that three times in order to . . . At other times there are appeals to a priestly or deity’s authority “just because I said so.” But the general tone and thrust is one of attempting to explain the rituals, provide some philosophical basis or foundation for the things that make sense and an attempt to eliminate or reform all that has become empty or meaningless.

One can also see parallels with the Old Testament – the time of Judges and Kings. A certain kind of thinking that must have been common in those early states. Trickery on the part of the holy men and the kings. It is not considered deceit, somehow, to pretend to be someone else in order to avoid paying people, or giving them a blessing or whatever. I admit this drove me crazy in the Bible. How can these supposedly “good” people do things like . . . Abraham pretending Sarai was his sister and prostituting her to Pharoah, and a hundred smaller deceptions and tricks? But the truth is that different cultural rules apply. Now in the Abraham case, even Pharoah and Abe’s own people were horrified. But a certain amount of trickery seems to indicate craftiness is admired. It is not considered evil or bad.
Another sort of contradictory thing – the sages in the Upanishads are always being rewarded with cows and riches and kingdoms. If they are sannyasin, what do they do with those? Maybe the category doesn’t really exist yet, nor the ideal.
The CU devotes whole chunks to not only translating but deeply exploring some of the chants in the Vedas, like the five-fold Saman chant, described in CU2. I have no idea if those are the same chants that are used in yoga classes today, or in any temples, but surely having some familiarity with these chants and knowing their “hidden wisdom” (the meaning of upanisad) of each syllable will make any chant more open to meaning for me.
In fact, I just began to make some connections between what Turlington said about pranayama – breath control – and these first few chapters. So let’s look a little closer.

The Saman Chant
Opening – OM
Introductory Praise – hum/upsamai gayata narom
High Chant (Udgatr) – om/pa(2)va(2) manayendava (2) abhi devam iya (1212)
Response (Pratihartr) – hum/a (2)
Female (Udgatr) – Ksato
Concluding (all 3) – sa (345)t

Then all of chapter 2 explains how various aspects of the world, the body and the spirit are reflected in or by this chant. The seasons, the rain, the digestion, sexual intercourse, breathing – everything. If you know this, and you can “hear” the rhythm of the chant in these everyday things, multiple blessings unfold for you. I wish I could hear it, I think I would understand it better. It would also be nice to have a translation. But maybe, like OM, there is no translation, really. Or not a full one.
The chant is woven upon all these things, so when one knows this, one doesn’t mindlessly repeat words but has the tools to meditate upon the ways this chant weaves the universe together. I think that is what the chapter is saying. And so one’s life becomes even richer and more blessed. Instead of complaining about rain, or Brahmins (both specifically mentioned) one sees their place and how to fit in with them, how to “use” them.

Oh! This is too fantastic! As in what a cool scripture! Instructions for good comebacks if anyone criticizes the way you chant! I’m not kidding! The Cu 2.22.3-4. There it says vowels are the corporeal form (atman) of Indra. Spirants are the corporeal form of Prajapati, and stops are Death. So if someone criticizes you for the way you pronounce your vowels, “he should tell that man, “I have taken refuge in Indra and he will rebut you.” For spirants, “Prajapati will crush you,” and for stops, “I have taken refuge in Death, and he will burn you up!” Isn’t that great? A tool for stutterers!

When speaking, vowels should be uttered, “with resonance and emphasis, thinking “Let me give strength to Indra.” One should pronounce all spirants without swallowing or ejecting them, and with an open passage between the tongue and the place of articulation, thinking, “Let me surrender myself to Prajapati.” With stops, check slightly, separate them from following sounds thinking, “Let me save myself from Death.”
As I was copying all that out I got thinking about how slow you’d have to talk, or how fast you’d have to think to actually dedicate each noise to the appropriate deity. I know that such activities, practice, do occur at ashrams all over the world. You sure wouldn’t say much, would you? You’d think pretty hard about what was important to say.

January 27
Another rough night. Couldn’t fall asleep ‘til 2, then was up at 4:30 with abdominal pain. Could barely pull myself out of bed. These actions become contortionist challenges, trying like crazy to stay relaxed so that the sphincter won’t clinch, while not allowing one’s bottom to touch any surface – do that while rolling out of a bed so high you need a step ladder to climb into/out of, pull on socks (doubled of course because it is so cold) and pajama bottoms, all while trying to make it to the bathroom on time and not disturb your husband or the cat. The latter because she’ll go stomp on the husband. It just isn’t fun. All around, this recovery is the super duper pits.
I’m reading the 3rd chapter of the Changdogya Upanishad. Much of it is way over my head, with its references to the sun as the honey of the gods, and the various parts of the sun – the rays . . . No, the various parts of the honey – the honey cells, the bees, the flower – all correspond to the rays, chants and Vedas. The diferent directions correspond to different Vedas, e.g. East = Rg, South = Yaju and West = Saman. North = Athava and Angirasa. The “upward” cells correspond to the secret teachings – the Upanishads themselves, I guess. Okay, so I can parse all of that, but I have no idea what it means.
Maybe if I follow it out, because the next part is about nectar. I picked up my pen because I was going to write that I’m beginning to get a tiny inkling of the main classifications of the gods and how they came about, though I’m not sure that’s even true, as I write it. I was kind of giving up on figuring out the deeper meaning of the text, but maybe it is worth a shot. I’ve read it several times and it is pretty mysterious. It is also considered very important. In 3.11 it says a father should only teach this knowledge to his eldest son or a wealthy pupil, even if someone offered the world’s weight in riches to him.
The first verses seem to be setting up a metaphorical structure. A model of the world, the sacred universe is like a honeycomb. The purpose of which is to produce honey, or nectar. The next verses talk about how the various classes of gods subsist on the nectar that is produced by the – oh yeah, the Vedas - the chants! The gods survive on the chants. They exist because of ritual. That is what it boils down to, right?

When you realize this, it says, “When someone knows the nectar in this way, he truly becomes one with those very Rudras, with Indra himself as his mouth . . . he enters into this appearance and emerges from this appearance; and he will achieve dominion and sovreignty over these very Rudras for as long as the sun will rise in the south and set in the north, which is twice as long as it will rise in the east and set in the west.” 3.7.3
And so it goes through all the gods, beginning with the Vasus, with fire as their mouth, then Rudras, Adityas, with Varuna as their mouth, Maruts with the moon, Sadhyas with brahman as their mouth. All the gods exist through ritual, are kept alive through ritual remembrance and chant, and thus, if one knows that, one has dominion over them. That would have been a pretty big secret at the time.
It terms of gods, I’m still a bit confused, but I’m getting that these three groups go together – Vasus, Rudras and Adityas. There are 8 Vasus, but they are vague. There are 11 Rudras and Rudra is one of them. He is a storm god, also a healer, and may be a precurser of Siva, as he was sometime called Siva ahd shares some of his aspects. Rudra also rules over the Maruts, a group of – lesser? – deities. The Adityas are literally the children of Aditi, the Mother God. Associated with the earth (of course), she’s the mother of Varuna, Indra, Mitra and others, who are therefore the Adityas.
But what remains confusing – and likely always will because it reflects a bunch of diverse belief systems and mythologies – is the Varuna/Prajapati/Indra thing. It isn’t troubling; they are all “stand-ins” for an idea of Sky God in any case. I just marvel at how little trouble local peoples had with the name differences. After all the killing Western peoples have done over what name God wears, one becomes conditioned to believe it is somehow human nature to slaughter one another over what to call the Maker of Rain, the Creator of Life. If that isn’t sad, I don’t know what is. But how joyful, now, to realize all these other people never dreamed of fighting, much less killing over such a silly thing.
There is a lot more in the next verses I’m not going to go into, but if only I had the confidence! In 3.16 are instructions for how to avoid sickness in the various stages of life by chanting the appropriate word of the Soma metre. Life is divided into 3 stages according the length of the Soma verses, 1st 24 to Vasus, next 44 to Rudras, last 48 to Adityas. If you get sick you are to do certain dedications. But if you are a master, like Mahidasa Ditareya, you can say, “I am not going to die because of it, so you why do you have to afflict me like this?” And his troubles were presumably removed and he lived to 116. Guess that’s what happens when you have dominion over gods people still believe in.

Pre-Op

I have been thinking and even writing quite a few "blog-worthy" things the last few days, but I haven't quite got in the habit of writing on the computer. I still turn to my journal first. It may have something to do with the size of my laptop and the difficulties inherent in holding it in my lap. In any case, an update is due.

I am scheduled for a total abdominal hysterectomy on Monday the 13th. I spent the last week or so arranging for my classes to be covered and prepping my on-line course ahead as far as possible, etc. Surgeon says I won't be doing a full-day's work for at least four weeks. It is a little intimidating. While on one hand I am near-desperate to have it done and feel almost ready to grab a knife and do the operation myself . . . on the other I still ask myself if I am doing the right thing and I tremble at the thought of feeling that weak for that long. It is hard to wrap my head around four to eight weeks of recovery time. Missing out on the end - the best time - of the semester. When you've brought your students through all the hard parts and it is really paying off in sophisticated analysis and critical interpretation.

So I am dealing with it by reminding myself that I would not - am not - giving my students the best of me in any case. I would be suffering through that 4-8 week period anyway. My body has no trouble reminding me of that. And I am putting myself in mental, emotional and to an extent physical training for healing after the surgery.

I am dedicated to health. To being healthy. To being the living embodiment of health. It has begun to really sink in that I do not have to accept anything less than perfect functioning of this temple of god that I'm in. I'm not quite sure when I allowed myself to beging believing that the PHN was a permanent condition, but things went downhill from there.

I am trying to see this surgery and the recovery period as an opportunity to truly change the relationship I have with my body and with my health. I am doing a number of things to try to foster that. I've been continuining the things I've talked about some here (and that I hope to talk more about while I'm recuperating) like yoga and meditation and continuing study of sacred texts that are meaningful and helpful like the Gitas. But I am also participating in a very neat visualization/mind-body healing program offered by the Rehab Center of the hospital.

It has some fairly standard relaxation techniques, and visualizing oneself healed, along with walking yourself through getting to know and have discussions with the hurting parts of your body. That latter is something I can certainly use help with. It also has a component of asking for support; that involves requestion that people who love you send their love in a warm blanket of color (I choose peachy-pink) half an hour before surgery (7 am Central Daylight Savings Time for anyone who feels like participating - I will take all the love and healing thoughts I can get). It is hard for me to ask for this - or anything. But I am and will be grateful.

Another very cool part is that the circulating nurse will read five healing statements to me (4 are pre-selected and one I write myself) as I am going under anaesthetic and while I am under. A great many studies have demonstrated that we do hear what is going on while we are under, and it does have an amazing effect on us. For example, people who are told they will heal well do actually heal faster in controlled studies. Other studies have people using less medication, getting out of the hospital faster, having fewer side effects, and all kinds of things. Anecdotal stories also reveal the opposite; when people hear their doctors saying "Oops" or "This looks bad" or other negative things, they heal more slowly, are depressed, use more pain medication, etc.

So what I decided is that in addition to the statements that suggest I will heal well, quickly, need little medication and have no complications, why not also plant the idea that as I heal from the surgery, I will also heal from the post-herpetic neuralgia? It can't hurt, right? I am working on how to phrase it; it needs to be wholly positive and not mention pain (what happens when you say "don't think about pink elephants"?). Maybe something like "You will be whole and free of all medications forever." Or "All of your cells will work together as a field to be free and healthy for a long life." That means something to me and my body - we've been reading about the body as a quantum field which ties into the way Krishna talks about the body, too. Anyone else have any good wordsmithing for me?

I am asking for help. Hard for me, but I am learning to be humble. I've eaten a lot of crow this semester already, and as I head into this period where wiping my own bum is going to be difficult I expect I'll learn even more about humility.

I'll try to post again before the big day. Thanks for still reading - Hopefully I'll be able to say something a little more profound one of these days : )

Decision Time

It is one am, or a little after, on a Friday night, and I'm doing what I always seem to be doing these days - trying to decide what I should do. It strikes me again that I have to do this myself. I can talk things over with women who have walked this road; I can read blogs and discussion boards; I can call my Mom and sisters for comfort and support. And J is always there. We have talked it through again and again. He listens to each new piece of information I share, each ramification that occurs to me. But ultimately, no one can make this choice for me, and no one else will have to live with the consequences.

Am I ready to give up my womb? Am I truly okay with closing the door on all possibility of having my own children? And more - am I ready for menopause. Am I ready for all the signs and symptoms of aging that will come with losing my ability to create my own hormones. My doctor thinks (and I've found support in the literature) that because of my particular circumstances, I should not start hormone replacement therapy right away - if at all - if I decide to have the hysterectomy. Likewise, we can't leave the remaining ovary there.

I keep thinking I've made up my mind, and then a new option is presented and I have to choose again. It is hard. I don't want to do something I will regret, but I can't bear to live this way any more. It doesn't feel fair to my students, my employers, my family, and certainly not my husband. And me - I'd like to have a life I can enjoy a little bit more if that is possible. I would love to have a little more energy.

I have hashed and rehashed all the pros and cons in so many places; this isn't the place for that. I don't feel like it, anyway. I just wanted to put it out there, how I'm feeling. How scary it is. All of my readings lately - in the devotional book and the U. Gita - have been about trust. I have realized I have a hard time trusting the universe. I don't trust my Self to work things out. If I did, I wouldn't worry so much. One of the recent entries in Gates' book said, "You either believe in God or you don't. God is there or He isn't."

That's right. I either believe in brahman or I don't. Since I do, I need to act like it, and trust. I am so grateful for prayer. I'll be doing a lot of that this weekend, and talk to the doc again on Monday, when I'll make the final decision.

December 2007 - Break on Through . . .

December 3, 2007

5:30 am. I've been reading Barbara Kingsolver, and then Tom Robbins books in the mornings and evenings, and together with a return to saying my mantra and occasional meditation (tho not a firm habit again yet), its all helping me get my priorities back in order and my perspective back straight.

I just finished Skinny Legs and All [by Tom Robbins] and want to record the message of the seven veils, the illusions destroyed by each one, so that I can more easily keep them in mind. They are things I've known a long time; Heck! I first read the book in 1991 or 1992! But we forget. The illusions are so powerful; they creep back in without our realizing it. Another reason daily meditation is necessary – eternal vigilance against maya.

Veil One –
Life is a sexual dance. Sex requires male and female as equal partners. Even molecules bond. There is even molecular rejection. And as we know now, the female has more control than we ever gave her credit for (eggs choosing the sperm) and more than the male in many cases. It's hard not to read patriarchy as a massive attempt to compensate for insecurity about inadequacy. Any religion that doesn't acknowledge, openly, the female aspects of the Divine is a religion based on fear.

I am becoming even more of a feminist because I've about had enough of the double-talk, the hidden and commonly accepted sexism.

Veil Two – Humans do not have dominion over plants, animals and minerals. "Humanity was a function of nature. It could not, therefore, live separately from nature except in a self-defeating masquearade. It could not live in opposition to nature except in a schizophrenic crime. And it could not blind itself to the wonders of nature without mutating into something too monstrous to love" p.404.

Veil Three – This is one it is really hard to remember. "It is futile to work for political solutions to humanity's problems because humanity's problem's were not political" p.405. They are [the problems], of course, philosophical. Trying to solve philosophical problems politically means solving them over and over and over. I realized this a good year ago. Stopped reading the paper, stopped getting so excited about the news. But when I stopped doing my own spiritual work, I got caught up again, and began all over to try to solve the problems in a wrong-headed way.

Veil Four – Religion is the improper response to the Divine. Religion tries to pin down something forever in flux. "To say that the Divine was Creation divided by Destruction was as close as one could get to definition. But the puny of soul, the dull of wit, weren't content with that" p.407. "The Divine is expansive, Religion reductive." "Since religion bore false witness to the Divine, religion was blasphemy" p.408.

Veil Five – Money is an illusion. 'Nuf said.

Veil Six – Time – past and future don't exist. All is present. Time isn't linear, etc. No "after" life, no after. No judgment day. All days are judgment days.

Veil Seven – Everyone has to figure it out for themselves. Apparently many times!!!! How I wish I could keep my insights fresh every day! Live them as easily as think them!

December 9

I'm reading Robertson Davies' Deptford Trilogy, and in The Manticore David's analyst, a Jungian, says "The unconscious chooses its symbolism with breath-taking artistic virtuousity" p.179.

I was getting sleepy, so shortly after I read that, I closed the book and my eyes and I asked my unconscious to tell me something about myself in a richly symbolic dream. I asked specifically for a metaphor – I wanted a show of this artistic virtuousity. How it delivered! And in a 10-minute nap!

[There follows a long description of a detailed and vibrant dream – full of symbols (about barbecuing, of all things) – which I realize is about a personal relationship]

What really, really pleases me is how receptive and friendly and downright accomodating my unconscious was! Can we build on this? I am certainly going to try. I don't know why I never thought of just asking myself for what I want!

December 16

Still reading Robertson Davies. What's Bred in the Bone right now. Tell's the story of Francis Cornish through the eyes of the Recording Angel and his personal Daimon. And in addition to some of the other things I've been thinking, and other things I now believe, it's shed new light on my own biography.

If we look at our lives as things planned, to a certain degree, by our larger Selves, to teach us particular things . . . or to put it less pedantically . . . If our souls, our Selves, have at least a moment of knowing the greater picture, the full spread and direction of our many lives between one life and another, and if they (we) can then choose, to a certain or full extent the circumstances of our next life, such that it will provide the opportunities to grow in the directions we most need `or will satisfy a hunger or thirst we most feel, or however it actually works – then very little of our lives in the early parts at least can be said to be due to chance.

We've chosen them for reasons. And might that extend through much of our life? Might not we have laid out a pattern that would unfold? And if so, how different would that really feel from having a personal daimon, or a guardian angel (two very different kinds of beings) guiding, interfering and making things happen?

In the book, the daimon talks about how he purposely provides Francis with some very unpleasant experiences, a generally unhappy childhood, an extended illness later (age 10-11) to allow him an escape from the small minds at school and give him time for reflection and creativity.

Why? The Recording Angel asks if he has no pity, if he/it isn't cruel, etc. The daimon replies that those are human attributions, that what he's creating is something special, and that greatness isn't born from happy childhoods, free of reflection, etc. Humans do not come to know themselves or to know charity, art, compassion, truth, or wisdom from easy lives.

Something in me felt a joyous leap of recognition and freedom as I read these words. What a wonderful way to approach the past. I am not a victim. The troubles I had as a child – the molestation, etc., were things I was giving myself – gifts, to help me become more fully human. Hell, I even gave myself a sickness of long duration so that I could write a novel at 12! Forget the petty, drivelling, conventional morality that for so long made me feel guilty about that! About lying to my parents and doctors about being sick and celebrate the guts of a child who dared to grab what she needed from a world that was too routinized and institutionalized to give it to her!

And the same applies to R [the abusive boyfriend] and the drug use and the selling of sex and all the other experiences I've had – probably – well of course not probably!!! Dummy! The shingles and the PHN! All the pain and every other single thing.

The pattern isn't clear at all to me right now. I think that it's related to myth. I haven't a clue what kind of a myth I am. But it's about time to start finding out. I know this is big, because I had been allowing myself to start feeling like a victim again. I've been struggling so hard and feeling so embattled and dragged down.

I refuse! I reject it! I refute it! I am the Self of my own life! Nothing happens but by my own will – conscious or un. If there is pain and unpleasantness, I must need to feel it for some good reason. But I'm not going to blame it on fate, or God, or anyone else. And I'm not going to wallow in self pity, either. Look what beauty all the childhood pain brought into my life! What in the world is there to be pitied about?! Would I rather be one of those self-righteous, self-ignorant morons walking around? Brahman forbid! I'll take the pain and mess any day.

I don't imagine I'll be able to let go of the complaining and sniping immediately, but I'm sure going to try, because I am heartily sick of being unhappy. Goodbye to the stinky pity-pot.

December 19

Gave my last finals yesterday.

I've been thinking a lot about my own spiritual/psychological life. What is the next step? It is to find my myth, the myth that is living me; the mythic, or allegoric, or metaphoric pattern that shapes/informs my life. How does one go about doing that? There are so many myths, so many mythic traditions. Why should I believe a Swiss psychiatrist identified all the relevant ones? Still, I do think that Jung is a frutiful place to begin, but I'm not looking to adopt his whole system. I don't want any one else's system. I think I have finally truly understood what it means that these ultimate answers must be worked out individually by each of us.

Wish that I had more time to devote to these things during the semester. It isn't just Jung; I need an education in allegory and the allegorical symbols used in art, especially in the middle ages and Rennaissance. I want SO much to be able to read those paintings, to understand them for the stories they told to the people of the time. I wonder if I could sit in on a few art history classes? The problem is, the professors here probably don't even know how to read the allegories unless it is their own little niche of expertise. They teach history and technique and composition and color and light and other important things I am not focused on right now.

See, if I could learn to think allegorically, even kind of medievally, I might be able to see a pattern in my life that would be meaningful to me. Like Cornish, my mind is not necessarily the most comfortable in the idiom of today. Maybe none of our minds are. And maybe, by stumbling around in the religion of our history, I can find something that works on multiple levels.

Be careful how you interpret that.

1. By "religion" I do not mean anything organized, but more the patterns – maybe the psychological or spiritual or (isn't there a better word?) _________ patterns that underlie the European search for meaning which has expressed itself in the mythologies of many cultures, along with their superstitions and folk tales, their local saints (who are often just their indigenous religious figures dressed up in Christian clothes), the ways in which they interpreted Greek and Roman myths in their art in later periods, their astrology and cosmology, etc.
   
2. The pattern I'm searching for is above all the one for my own life. It is ultimately only my own life I am in charge of, responsible for, and have any hope of being able to understand.
   
3. Having said that, if I found a useful methodology – well, I am a social scientist trying very hard to understand human development, especially the development of identity. If I found something that worked for me personally, I'd want to see how far it could be stretched professionally, or at least communally. Write a book, maybe.
   

So for now it seems my routes are to learn the languages of symbolism and allegory and to become familiar with the myths. That is so that I can take the next step, which is to begin thinking about my own life in those terms.

For example, if my life were a fairy tale, who would the characters be? Or if it were an allegorical painting in the Pre-Raphaelite style, who would be in it and how would I represent them? Would it have a biblical theme, given my childhood? Or a pagan/classical theme given my later sensibilities? A King Arthur/Grail Quest theme given a long-standing obsession? Who would be the heroes and who the monsters? Who the hidden beauties? The betrayers/false-faces? These are the kinds of questions I want to be asking myself, and thinking about, and struggling (?) with.

Struggle. Do I even like that word any more? Why do I need to struggle? I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing, when I'm supposed to be doing it, and I'm excited about it and looking forward. What does "struggle" have to do with anything?

Here's a quote out of context. Its about a real horoscope, which would be fun to have done, by someone who knows what they are doing and speaks this ancient language of symbols: "Your Saturn has the same relationship to your Moon that Mars has to your Sun, but it's a giver of spiritual power, and takes you deep into the underworld, the dream world, what Goethe called the realm of the Mothers. There's a fad now for calling them the Archetypes, because it sounds so learned and scientific. But Mothers is truer to what they really are. The Mothers are the creators, the matrixes of all human experience" p.308, Davies, What's Bred in the Bone.

That's essentially what I want to do. I want to journey to the Mothers, and humbly ask them if they will let me know anything. I am sick nigh unto death of the fathers.

Now I'm reading my old book on myth by Leonard Biallas. What a wise person! Many of the things I highlighted at age 20 or 21 I still find important today. He really seems to understand this process I'm going through – have been going through for at least 2 decades now, of trying to discover who I am. To discard what is "not essential to me," but to embrace both the light and the dark that are truly parts of myself. I don't want a religion that is aimed only at making people good. I want one that aims at making people whole. Making them "real" "honest" with themselves and with others. I guess I'm looking for the word 'authentic.' As in Hinduism – a dialogism, a dialectics that transcends dualities.

Why I Don't Know My Body

I've been putting off writing this post. I think its because the subject could get so bogged down in the history of Western thought. I mean, the splitting of the mind/soul/body has long roots in Western philosophy and culture. But I don't necessarily want to go there. Can we take that as read?

Of course that is an important part of my cultural training. What's a body? Who cares? It is just something to cart around your soul, which is the only part that matters to God, and houses your mind. Of course, the body can get you into all sorts of trouble, and is a source of sin, if anything. Sure, there are references in Christianity to the body being the temple of God, but except for its use in exhortations to quit (or never take up) smoking, avoid promiscuous sex, exercise restraint in use of alcohol - in short, don't allow the body to lead you into sin - I don't recall anyone ever taking the "body as temple" thing too seriously.

And then in my parents I had examples of downplaying or outright ignoring messages from the body. Dad thought orange juice ought to cure whatever ailed you. He is one of those people that just never gets sick; I think the first time I ever saw him with even a head cold he was in his fifties or sixties. Mom is a different story. She has had so many different kinds of pain - severe pain - that she developed her own methods for dealing with it. One never knows what is in another's head or heart, and I don't know for sure how she coped. But to me it seemed that she coped mainly by just powering through. The lesson I learned, whether it was what was intended or not, was definitely an overwhelming "IGNORE THE BODY - IT IS IRRELEVANT". If it gets in your way - if it is weak, or painful, or sick, or deficient, just ignore it. Push it away and pretend it isn't there. That's what I took away.

More - I saw Mom turn inward and "upward" - turn to God for assistance with her pain. So what it looked like was that one should kind of retreat from the body and ask God for help in dealing with it. The idea of making friends with the pain, or even with one's body was never introduced to me. To be fair - that could be because the notion is so obvious to both parents that it never occured to them to say outloud. But I never got that message.

So, between the deep philosophical divide provided by our culture, the religion and the socialization provided by my parents, there was a pretty strong foundation for pushing away unpleasantnesses of the flesh.

Then I was molested. And then I was raped and beaten. These events drove further wedges between my self and my body. For years afterword - more than a decade actually - I did not feel that I even lived in my body. It took a lot of work in therapy just to inhabit my skin, to know that gnawing pain in the belly meant hunger, or to notice that my arm or leg had been asleep for some time.

That killed any athleticism I might have had, too. I was going to say that I had never had any attraction to sports, or had not a single athletic bone in my body. But that isn't true. I reveled in the suppleness and strength of my body as a child. I loved riding horses and hiking and swimming. I was on the swim team, in fact. I roller-skated with passion. I loved to ride my bike; I mean loved. I remember the feeling of balance and speed and grace that both bikes and skates provided. But the development of breasts and the dark attraction of evil men stole that innocent pleasure away, and I never regained it. Pleasure in the body turned to deep, deep shame.

So really it shouldn't be too much of a surprise that I deal with pain by ignoring it, and that I do not feel like my head, soul, heart, mind, breath, body, identity and self are integrated into a complex and complete whole. It should not be shock to anyone that my search for wholeness took place almost totally in my head. Come to think of it, except for extremists, what role does Christianity have for the body? In Catholic ritual there is at least kneeling, but in Protestant worship services the closest one gets is standing and sitting. I do remember one of the 12-step groups I went to introduced me to the idea of kneeling, which I found very useful. But where has that idea gone in American Christianity? There is no prostrating oneself before the Lord in public or in private. Do any children still kneel by the bed to say their prayers? I was not taught to kneel; we said our prayers laying down. But I digress.

I came to Hinduism - or the Sanatana Dharma - in ways that are familiar to anyone who has been reading this blog. All through scripture and study and pondering and thinking. And there is room for that - that's fine. Plenty of respect for study of scripture in this religion, and a whole path - jnana yoga - dedicated to pondering (in the mind) the difference between the self and the Self. But somehow, I guess for all the reasons I've detailed here and maybe others I haven't figured out or spelled out, I kind of forgot, or just plain skipped over, this fact:

As I studied all of the different paths, karma, jnana, bhakti and raja, and tried to determine which was for me, or how best to combine them in ways that fit my self this life - I noted that all presuppose certain things, like adopting or practicing the yamas and niyamas. But I conveniently just didn't see or notice that all paths presuppose the practice of pranayama and asana, too. Of hatha yoga, in other words. How? Now that I can see it, it is so hard to understand how I could have NOT seen that!!

I had been going around for a month thinking about blind spots. Since Christmas I had been praying for God/brahman to show me whatever I needed to see about my self that I couldn't see. And there in late January, all of a sudden it hit me, and it was an epiphany, a revelation. Yoga! I am supposed to be doing yoga!

I guess that was even before I had surgery, because I had gone to the library and checked out a few books. And it was standing in the library looking through the selection that I realized another reason that I had avoided the conclusion that I should take up asana practice (asana = posture) as part of my overall spiritual development: there is a tremendous amount of junk out there.

I have to be really careful about being a spiritual snob; I realize that wisdom can come from the strangest and most unexpected places. For example, one of the best books I got first was written by a fashion model!!! Shock! I forced myself to give it a try just because my first instinct was to snort and boy did I get taught a big lesson. Christine Turlington has certainly done her homework and she knows a lot more about hatha yoga than I will for a long, long time. I wanted to be picky with her about some of the other parts of her book - like the history and scripture parts - but there wasn't that much to pick at, really. Moreover, I learned a lot about grace and humility; learning to love one's body for what it is, healing and peace.

That was an exception. There were so many books on the shelf about "power yoga" and "speed yoga" and "yoga for executives" and other titles that just struck me as oxymorons. Opening them, they were utterly stripped of everything meaningful. They were teaching yoga poses - marginally - if you stretch the term past its meaning - but nothing else about what yoga is. Is it yoga if your sole purpose is to lose weight or make money, and you have sped it up so that there is no time for reflection or contemplation? Why bother? Why not just stick to aerobics?

I guess the search for yoga lessons and teachers is a whole 'nother post.

What's relevant for now is that I had finally seen the light. I'd woken up and realized that there was a way, had always been a way right in front of me, interwoven into the very scriptures I read every day, to connect with my long-lost body, befriend it, and begin to be whole. That there might just be a path to true health for me, a way for mind, body and self to procede together rather than fighting against one another. It really did feel like coming home.

It's Okay to Be a Three Year Old (June 1-3, 2007)

To think there was a moment I was worried I might lose the pain before I could learn enough! Seems a little silly, in retrospect. Obviously, I haven't learned near enough yet, as I keep learning the same lessons over and over again. It seems like every couple weeks my body lets me know it has a new plan for how I can learn something more about either patience, humility, or something equally wonderful to have and equally unpleasant to actually obtain. I'm afraid I'm being particularly dense this time around about accepting things as they are. I find myself railing against the endless winter though it is only February, and being angry when it seems I went through surgery for nothing because the problems are reasserting themselves, or when new physical problems develop. I wish my larger Self, the universe, God, my body - whoever is in charge - would just give me a little time to rest and recoup before I had to deal with another round.

Now, how is that for whining? And some of you thought you were good at it! hah! I'm telling you, I am not doing a good job of practicing detachment or acceptance. But I'm working on it.

June 1, 2007

It hasn't been easy, this past week. In fact, it has been so hard that I feel I'll never recover. I'm sure that can't actually be true. I hope and pray that in a week, this will be all-but-forgotten and I'll be revelling in the relief the epidural will bring. Please let it! I'm worried that the shot isn't going to work, that all of this will have been for nothing, physically, since it hasn't kicked in yet. I guess I could look it up in my journal, see for sure how long it took last time. It was gradual, snuck up on me. Perhaps if my head and spine weren't hurting, the side would also stop.

I simply have to accept that I am doing what I can. Make sure that I am doing all I can, and let the rest go.

I had some success yesterday, remembering I am not whitethoughts. Still seems funny to write. Keep thinking that if I progress along the path I'm travelling, the purpose of journaling will change or go away. Why spend so much time writing about an "I" that doesn't exist? Still a long way away. I still believe in whitethoughts. Things are shifting in me. I've begun to feel, when I slip into begging, that I am praying to my Self. I still feel funny saying it because in the Western Christian context it sounds delusional, but my inner picture of God, of whom I am praying to, was first an overlay/hologram type image of Jesus/Krishna – meshed and overlapping and coming in and out of focus. But now I'm starting to see me in there as well, and J, and Indy. A good step, in part because it highlights the ridiculousness of begging for anything – from one's self? If one has the power to affect reality, just do it! Alas, I'm not that capable of directing my will yet. Probably for the damn good reason that I'm not remotely wise enough to use that power correctly.

For example, would I have given myself the lesson in humility, helplessness, detachment and meditation of last week? No WAY! I would give J a job – a high paying teaching job, and take away my own pain. Pretty amazingly selfish, eh? First thought wasn't about Doug, or our goddaughters, or Mom and Dad. So – okay. Thank goodness I don't have (conscious and direct) access to the reality machine. In which case, don't expect begging to disappear right away. Begging is a relief, a release. Begging may be the wrong word, but really that is what it is. Pleading? Throwing myself on the mercy of whoever is in charge?

Point – I am at least beginning to figure it out. That I – or my real Self is in control. What I'm finding, by thinking of myself in the third person, is that my compassion for myself grows. I do begin to see her and her struggles more objectively. But also it is bleeding over into how I see J, and my compassion and love for him also grows. It's after 7, so let me just say this – the 15^th Teaching supports the identification I am making between my Self and Krishna/Jesus/God.

When the lord takes on a body

And then leaves it . . . v.8

Men of discipline who strive

See him present within themselves;

But without self-mastery and reason,

Even those who strive fail to see. v. 11

I dwell deep

In the heart of everyone v. 15

Other is the supreme spirit of man,

Called the supreme self,

The immutable lord who enters

And sustains the three worlds v.17

Whoever knows me without delusion

As the supreme spirit of man

Knows all there is, Arjuna –

He devotes his whole being to me. v.19

June 2

[Detailed discussion of session with pain therapist]

Phyllis had an inspiration while watching me meditate, that mudras might be helpful for me.

I know for sure there are important things to learn from pain. Maybe I have to get to the point where I am truly grateful for each twinge before the pain will go away. Wow; it's hard to get there. I am fighting resentment. I know in my head that life is not fair, that all we ought to expect is more suffering, and that in the grand scheme of things, I have it very easy. I know that there are parts of me that feel resentful toward God and the Universe and all these other people walking around with no pain. Couldn't they stand to learn some patience? Some non-attachment? Disinterest? Sacrifice? Love? Why me?

Oh geez. Silly! Because I know why me! Because me wants to learn those things. My larger Self, for sure. But even my conscious self. I want, with all my heart, to be a better person. So the pain is a way to do that. The pain is a gift, given in love, to provide me an opportunity to learn to be a better person, in all the ways I understand that to mean, and probably more. That means I can't waste it. What if it heals, goes away without my learning anything? Wouldn't that be terrible? I should appreciate every precious moment, as they may go away and never come again. Wow. Can I do that? What does it mean about pain medication? I don't think I'm ready to embrace the pain so much that I give that up totally. I do still have to work. But maybe I can begin to ask myself, if it isn't to do a duty, fulfill a responsibility, at those times I can let the pain be what it is. Even with the meds, there is plenty of pain to learn from.

I guess the lesson for today is that one must fulfill one's duty regardless of discomfort.

June 3

[Discussion of pain (always), work to be done (always) and the proper use of a journal]

One thing I'm consciously working on is getting better control over my thoughts. I have always spent a lot of mental energy replaying conversations, having imaginary confrontations, and especially fixating on moments and issues that angered or hurt me. Easwaran – and of course the Gita – reiterate that we must have mental discipline. Not just when sitting down to meditate but all of the time. Why do I allow my mind to replay a hurtful scene, or to dwell on a slight, or imagine a thousand different ways my students might hate me? Yes, occasionally it is helpful to rehearse something, but most of the time such yammering serves no helpful purpose. So I have been trying to catch myself each time my mind begins. And here again the mantra saves me. I attempt to redirect my mind's attention to the mantra, and let go of the replay or rehearsal. It is quite difficult. A minute later I find my mind has returned to the same old sad story, and I have to re-direct it, over and over. Easwaran promises, based on a lot of experience, that eventually I will have to redirect it less often, and that it will become less frequent that the mind even begins down that road.

Easwaran promises that each repetition of the mantra is like one shovel-full of dirt, bringing us closer to the center as we dig our way down. Thus the mental energy that was getting wasted in an imaginary argument is now being used, being harnessed, to bring us closer to god.

I have so many opportunities for this. Perhaps everyone is like this, but I feel I may be one of the worst offenders, as my mind is a real chatterbox. It never shuts up. If I can manage this turnaround, it will mean I have made an automatic-shovel, and can be digging my way toward God at a constant, steady pace. A way to turn a negative personality trait into a positive god-seeking tool.

Also, I want to report that I have more moments that I used to in which my mind is still. It is wonderful. Obviously, as soon as I recognize the stillness I've created a ripple, but maybe I'll get better about just letting it be, as it becomes less of a novelty.

Hey – maybe that's why I've been able to enjoy going to the movies more – my mind is actually able to attend only to the film for longer chunks of time, instead of rattling on about other things. And all of this growth has happened before I've even been able to begin meditating! At least, meditating the way I intend to.

It's possible that I had to do some of this work, get some practice with the mantra, before I was able to meditate. My mind may have been so undisciplined that it simply couldn't bring itself to truly contemplate meditation. It was last Saturday I felt ready to try. But the headache was truly too intense and I just could not stand to sit up for the full 30 minutes. I feel ready again. I'm eager to see what results daily meditation will bring when I've begun to see such wonderful benefits from just getting better at remembering to say the mantra, and from studying the Gita, of course.

I am a little worried that I am too focused on the fruit. But I think I should let go of that worry. I am too focused on the fruit – the clear, calm mind. The loving, patient, wise personality. But oh well! We all have to start somewhere. I am not mature. Big deal. Neither are three year olds. They aren't bad for being three and not 30, or 90. That is just where they are. If, in terms of meditation, or self-discipline and contemplation, I am less evolved than an infant – well, so be it. I'm an infant. A fetus, even. I need to be more compassionate toward myself.

If my brain begins reciting an old argument or repeating a stupid song, there is no need to berate it, yelling and punishing and being mean, as is my wont. No, just gently correct. Gently redirect. A kindly, "No dear, let's think about God instead" is much more appropriate. I need to remember how young and immature this person is. There is no need to yell at her. Just kindly, with compassion, steer her into the right path.

I know Christianity does not have to be punitive, that in fact Jesus taught compassion and forgiveness. But I picked up very bad habits as a Christian; habits of self-hatred and self-punishment. I categorized my behavior as "bad" or "wrong" any time it was less than Jesus-like perfection, and took myself into terrible cycles of guilt and remorse and shame. I refuse to bring that baggage into this new place. There is no judgment here. No final Judgement Day, no hell, and no punishment except what you give yourself. Be who and where you are. Try to grow. Learn from your mistakes. Correct yourself when you catch yourself taking an unhelpful turn. That's it. No scourge. No inventive self-tortures. Those aren't helpful. They are not kind, patient, compassionate, gentle, forgiving, disinterested – and therefore are not true, not correct. So leave them alone.

There is a lot in the 16^th and 17^th Teachings about this. In the 16^th, The Divine and Demonic in Man, Krishna describes each type of man. The list of adjectives is worth memorizing and repeating, but here I want to note that they apply to one's dealing with oneself, too.

Hypocrisy, arrogance, vanity,

Anger, harshness, ignorance;

These characterize a man

Born with demonic traits v.4

Is it not hypocrisy to preach compassion and then be cruel to oneself? Is it not arrogance and vanity that cause me to think that I alone of all humans should be held to Jesus' standards for himself? What ego to believe I should be perfect at the start! Anger and harshness directed at myself – just a small creature – are just as wrong as if directed at someone else – a small child, a bunny rabbit.

Confused by endless thoughts,

Caught in the net of delusion,

Given to satisfying their desires . . . v. 16

Submitting to individuality, power,

Arrogance, desire, and anger,

They hate me and revile me

In their own bodies, as in others v. 18

And in the 17^th Teaching, Three Aspects of Faith, Krishna, is explaining the "threefold mature of faith inherent in the embodied self" v.2, and after describing sacrifices he says:

Men who practice horrific penances

That go against traditional norms

Are trapped in hypocrisy and individuality,

Overwhelmed by the emotion of desire v.5

Without reason, they torment

The elements composing their bodies,

And they torment me within them;

Know them to have demonic resolve v.6

I am no longer even self-disciplined enough to torture my body in penance, but since childhood this has been my bent. My sinfulness is in how I hypocritically require perfection from myself in exchange for love. It is hard for me to accept the verdict of hypocrisy. The thing I most dislike, most hate, in myself and others. But look how the word keeps showing up in the context of self-punishment. I can't deny it. Ouch. So I have to stop doing these things in my head.

My guess is, from the little experience I've had, that once I am able to be kinder to myself, I will find I'm more compassionate toward others, as well.