Process of Illumination

The Big Shed

A year or two before my daughter was born — just over 15 years ago — while browsing at the old Bodhi Tree bookstore, I came upon a necklace with a beautiful silver amulet. It was a small woman in a purposeful stance. Her hair was standing on end and radiating from her head like a sunburst. It reminded me of the oft feared, and greatly misunderstood, Hawaiian goddess, Pele. It turns out it was her Hindu iteration, Kali ma. I was so attracted to it, I promptly bought it and wore it every day until my daughter was born. What happened in the space of what seemed like a nanosecond was both terrifying and oddly liberating. I ended up leaving my marriage, selling our house, moving from Hollywood to Santa Monica. Nothing could stop me as I shed the layers of discontent and disillusion, tossing them aside like the heavy winter overcoats I used to buy at the vintage shops when I lived in New York. I was in Los Angeles, after all, and the incredible lightness of being was the West Coast way. I felt as if I was cutting dead weight. I had been so wrapped up in who I thought I was and what I believed life was supposed to look like, I didn’t really have a clue that I had choices. Until I did.

 

Flash forward, and I find myself at another similar point of deconstruction, only now I have a much more intimate relationship with Ma Kali. She is the central figure on my personal altar, where I meditate and reflect. And her name is tattooed on my spine. The force and fury with which my own personal truths revealed themselves to me those years ago had scared me back to sleep. It’s been a long and winding road since that day I took the necklace off. About a dozen years later, I finally circled back to Kali through my immersion in the study of tantra and bhakti yoga. There are several different takes on Kali. She represents shakti, or creative life force. She is held by some to be the goddess of death and destruction, change and ultimately rebirth. In the tradition of tantra, she is the ultimate truth. Referred to as the Dark Mother, she is the embodiment of what we modern Westerners call “tough love.”

 

Over the last many months, I have let go of many things. I sold and gave away many of my possessions…furniture, books, clothing. I moved my family from a large urban loft space in a luxurious building with many amenities to a petite bungalow duplex with a small backyard. The simplification of my life on the physical plane is reflective of the inner work I’ve been doing. It’s not easy to describe what the means in a practical sense. I have come to think of my life as a living, breathing meditation, one in which I stop trying to figure things out. “Shut up and listen,” has become my mantra for this phase. As I begin to let go of the last vestiges of my design career and step fully into my work as a coach and a healer, I am challenged to get out of my head where fear can so easily be unleashed like a rabid dog devouring everything in it’s path. As I begin to move through life as an observer of my own story, and mindfully dismiss judgment and evaluation of each little thought, I start to experience life in a very different way. Just as I shed possessions, I am shedding the thoughts and patterns that have held me down and cluttered my way of being. Many things I have held as non-negotiable truths turn out to be choices. I am fairly convinced at this point that my path is not that of an ascetic. Much as I love the idea of walking into the Himalayas to spend my time here meditating, I am choosing to live an applied life. I am in it. Living the full range of human experience and all that means. But it’s been invaluable to step back and examine the mental, emotional and physical structures of my life and pick and choose what gets to stay and what needs to go. In the coming weeks, I’ll write more specifically about some of the choices I am making. For now, I’ll just say…It’s good to be here, right now, fully present and living this life. 

The Gentle Barn

One of the most inspiring places I've ever been is The Gentle Barn. It is a farm animal rescue just North of Los Angeles. Founded in 1999 by Ellie Weiner, and now run by her and her husband Jay, it is a magical place where anything seems possible. Here's a shot I grabbed of Karma as he tried to kiss me.

Ellie and Jay see their 130 rescued farm animals as teachers, healers, friends and hero's. Every animal at their place has been rescued from horrible abuse, neglect, and loneliness, and yet they have all survived using forgiveness, trust, love, and courage. These are the qualities that Ellie and Jay strive for on a daily basis, and that they teach the children that visit The Gentle Barn.

Below is a recent post from their blog about what happened when a group of troubled boys visited the animals.

This week we had a wonderful group of boys from a probation camp.  These kids are failing in school, fighting with their peers and not communicating with their therapists, so we brought them out to The Gentle Barn to see if, through the animals, we could help them.

The first thing we did when they arrived was ask them one word that best described who they were and what were their dreams.  They took time to think about it and came up with some great answers.  One teen named Bobby said that the best word for him was “mystery.” He said that no one understands him and that no one can predict what he was going to do next.

We talked with the kids about our place, our animals and their stories.  We told them that our animals are heroes.  We started a discussion about body language and what different animals do when they are frightened.  It was interesting because Bobby said that when he gets scared he pulls out his gun.

We went to the cows first and had all the boys hug our cow Buddha.  Bobby did not want to hug Buddha.  He expressed concern that he was worried what his peers would think of him if he told them that he had hugged a cow; it was not cool.  Nonetheless, after all the other kids had their hug and enjoyed it, we all encouraged Bobby to participate.  After all the pressure, he finally relented and hugged her.  The minute he put his face down on Buddha’s soft, warm, fluffy fur, his face changed completely.  He no longer looked defensive, shut down, or tough.  His face softened as he allowed Buddha’s love to wash over him. When he was finished, Bobby walked away, visibly shaking off the experience, looking like he was trying not to cry.  I watched him compose himself and I gave him a high five.  He looked younger, more innocent, and softer.  I wondered when he had last had a sincere, loving hug.

We then went to give carrots to the horses and we talked a lot about the horses’ stories.  Many of them shared the same stories of abandonment, abuse and neglect as the youth.  I told them the story of Lazar and Zoe, two Belgian Draft horses who were taken away from their moms at only a month old.  I explained that it took years to heal them and breath the life back into them and even though they were healed now, they still have emptiness inside them and probably will have for life.  Bobby’s eyes were fixed on me, taking in every word I was saying.  I was wondering if he carried around that emptiness too.

By the time we went to the upper barnyard with the smaller animals Bobby seemed like a kid, not the man he was when he first arrived.  He gave tummy rubs to the pigs, asked questions, and even cradled a chicken in his arms.  He was no longer preoccupied with keeping his clothes spotless and he was not thinking about what other people thought of him; he seemed free.

We finished up the group at the wishing well.  Each boy found a rock with a flat surface and I handed out black markers.  I asked them what false belief was getting in the way of their happiness.  What false belief about themselves or the world was causing them to suffer?  Did they think they were, ugly, losers, trouble makers, or not smart enough?  Did they think they were going to suffer their whole lives?  Did they think life or love sucked?  I asked them to figure it out and then write the opposite on their rock.  So, if my false belief was that I was not lovable, then I would write that I was loved on my rock.  I explained to them that the rocks would stay in our well until the end of time and we would hold the truth about them, no matter where they went from here, or what they did.  Hopefully because it was written, they would act from the truth from now on.

Once they had written the opposite of their false beliefs on their rock we took turns saying it out loud and throwing the rocks into the well.  When the boys took turns saying their new truth out loud, they seemed so brave, honest, real and willing to participate.  Bobby was last and he made his statement with conviction and vulnerability: “I am not a criminal”!

I told the guys that The Gentle Barn was my dream since I was 7 years old.  I told them that I did not grow up with farm animals, did not previously own land and did not have a lot of money.  I just had a dream, one that I was not willing to give up on.  If my dream came true, then theirs could too.  The guys put their hands on the magic rocks of the wishing well, closed their eyes, made silent wishes to themselves and then clapped their hands twice and walked away.

When Bobby walked away from the well he came over and gave me a huge hug goodbye; he seemed like he did not want to let go, I know I didn’t.  His face looked so hopeful and I wondered if today saved his life and made him see himself in a different way.  Maybe he now realized that he could change and have the life he had dreamed of, and deserved.

As those brave young men drove away I felt like my heart was going to explode with the love and compassion I felt for them.  I felt honored to have met them, lucky to have spent time with them, and honored to do this work.

The next time you visit us on a Sunday, check out our wishing well. I know that you will help us keep those rocks safe and undisturbed .We invite you to take a minute to make a wish, after all, we are never to young or old to have a dream, and at The Gentle Barn we believe that dreams come true.

To read more about the animals at The Gentle Barn and the inspiring work of Ellie and Jay Weiner, their staff and volunteers, visit gentlebarn.org.

Fooling Around

Most of us have a particular association with tarot cards that goes something like this...It was a dark, foggy night on my walk home through the village when I happened upon a traveling carnival. The spinning of a ferris wheel and giant tea cups created a hypnotic frenzy as slightly deranged looking men and women barked to play their games — shoot a water pistol in the mouth of a clown, or knock down some heavy milk bottles with a brown leather ball. Squeals and cries of small children amped up on sugar and adrenalin peppered the drone of generators. And then suddenly right in front of me materialized a tent, simultaneously disheveled and bedazzled, the sign in front read, “Madame Zorah”. Before I knew it, I had entered the tent. It was as if some mysterious force had pulled me in. And there she was, sitting behind a table draped with a red cloth. She was as worn as the deck of cards she held in her hand. Her long black hair looked dusty, as if she must have been sitting there in that very tent for decades. She looked like she might drink me in with her large, black, knowing eyes.

Okay, you get the picture. The truth about Tarot is that it can serve as a useful tool in decision making. Hear me out. Yes, the esoteric hippie in me wants to believe that the cards are a vehicle for my spirit guides to send me messages from the ethers and tell me what to do. And certainly, Tarot has a long history as a means of divination. But even my very intellectual New Yorker self uses the cards regularly. When pondering a current issue, I will often take out my cards, shuffle and randomly pull one. Whatever the topic and whatever card comes up, I am presented with a potential perspective from which to see this issue —a different energy or way of being with my life and the people in it. It's a tool to get out of my head, to break my usual pattern of thoughts and feelings. I will sometimes pull a card and just move through my day with that particular archetype in my consciousness, asking questions like, “What would the Hanged Man say to the dentist who tells me I need $1500 worth of work on my mouth?” or “How would the Empress respond to the barista who can't seem to get my half caf non-fat foamy latte right”?

Most evidence points to the first Tarot cards popping up in the early 15th century as a game. It wasn’t adopted by mystics, occultists and secret societies as a means of divination and covert communication until the 17th century. The deck is divided into numbered and face cards in four different suits. Our modern playing cards’ source is in the Tarot deck with Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs and Spades derivative of the Tarot's Cups, Pentacles, Wands and Swords or roughly, the Emotional, Physical, Mental and Spiritual selves. These are called the Minor Arcana. In addition, 22 cards make up the Major Arcana. The word “arcana” means: a profound secret or mystery known only to initiates. And truly, there is much symbology and coded visual language in these cards, too much to go into at length when I am already pushing the limits of acceptable blog entry length. Suffice to say that the 22 cards of the Major Arcana are each a depiction of an archetype of the human condition. With names like, The Magician, The Hermit, Temperance, Strength, each card represents a specific point in the protagonist's story.  

This week, I have been pondering the first card of the Major Arcana, "The Fool". As I start a few new ventures, stepping into new territory, this card resonates with me.The Fool has no pretense, no judgement. He is simple and willing. He stands at edge of a precipice, ready to leap into the unknown. The sun, a symbol of universal illumination, or “crazy wisdom” is behind him lighting his way, and grounded by his base, survival instincts in the form of the small dog at his heels. He carries his belongings, items from his physical world on his shoulder with ease. His arms are open wide in an accepting embrace of what the universe holds for him. Holding this card and taking it in is validation of so many things I am experiencing right now on my personal journey —the curiosity to explore, the willingness to risk, the trust that I'll be safe. And when I become conscious that the next step will find my foot leaving terra firma for the unknown, I can look at this card and be reminded that I am not the first to take a leap of faith. There have been many fools before me who have done what I am doing and felt what I am feeling. I am not the first to — as our favorite sneaker maker says — “Just do it.”

 

Playing 20 Questions...with yourself

“To become learned, each day add something. To become enlightened, each day drop something.” —Lao Tzu

Life Coach Martha Beck crowd-sourced and compiled a list of 20 powerful questions we should be asking ourselves. It's oriented towards women, but perfectly appropriate for men as well. I am particularly fond of Question #9. Isn't that what I have been talking about?

Read the article:
20 questions that could change your life by Martha Beck 

Cleaning House

I've been making some changes lately. As I fill my life up with all kinds of things that matter to me, it's been necessary to let some things — and people — go. I've been reconsidering all kinds of things, like the way I schedule my time...the perspective I choose about my work...my willingness to make parenting choices which are tough in the short term, but an investment in my children's developmental well-being...which relationships are nurturing and which are draining. The question I generally ask myself is: "What does my usual M.O. affording me? And what is it robbing me of?" Generally, the answer to the first part is that hanging onto the old way is a fear-based attempt to maintain my perceived safety in the status quo. But it also robs me of the opportunity to find a new and improved status quo — in other words, EVOLVE.

Today I am mirroring the internal work I've been doing in my external environment. It's time to clean house. I am going through the last of the boxes from my recent move, designing my office space, reorganizing my digital world of communication, and ruthlessly ridding my home of clutter.

You might say I am creating a clean, efficient container in which there is room to dance...from the inside out.

1.1.11

Sankalpa: Setting an Intention

Working with sankalpa changed my life. Okay, this year has been filled to the brim with catalysts and triggers. But I am confident that the work I did for several months with a particular sankalpa affected a series of deep and permanent shifts in the nature of my existence. Sankalpa is not a resolution, but an inspired intention. There's a difference. Sounds heady, but it is really very simple. 

I came across this article today in Yoga International magazine written beautifully by Kelly McGonigal, she teaches yoga, meditation and psychology at Stanford. It's an easy read. I highly recommend both the article and the practice.

It’s natural to identify a desire as “I want” and an intention as “I will” or “I won’t.” But these phrases lack the truth of the commitment that comes from heartfelt desire and connection to one’s dharma. “A sankalpa isn’t a petition or a prayer,” Miller says, “It is a statement of deeply held fact, and a vow that is true in the present moment.”

For this reason, your sankalpa—both the heartfelt desire and the specific intention—should be stated in the present tense. For example, rather than saying, “I want to be more compassionate,” your sankalpa might be, “Compassion is my true nature” or “I am compassion itself.” Rather than setting the intention, “I will not eat meat,” your specific sankalpa might be, “With compassion for my body and for other beings, I eat a vegetarian diet.” Stating your sankalpa in present tense acknowledges the tremendous will, energy, and truth that arrive with the discovery of your heartfelt desire. It also reminds you that whatever is required of you is already within you.

Read the full article here:
Inspired Intention | The Nature of Sankalpa.

Holding the Exhalation

Inhale, and God approaches you. Hold the inhalation, and God remains with you. Exhale, and you approach God. Hold the exhalation, and surrender to God.  —Sri Tiramulai Krishnamacharya

It's the eve of the eve of another new year and I am at once empty and full. This past year has brought so many changes my head is spinning. Finally, I feel my life in motion, and it's distinctly in the forward direction. Typically, I embrace New Year's Eve as an opportunity to celebrate — and by celebrate, I mean do a few shots and dance till I drop. This year...same but different. I will be celebrating joyfully, but I have decided to stay home and be quiet. This has been a huge year for me, bringing a whole new community, career and home. As is inevitably necessary when stepping into newness, I've had to let go of many things. More to the point, I've had to abandon old ways of BEING. 

In reflecting on all that has come and gone this year, I turned to my journal. From August in Rockland County, where I grew up...I had just had a wonderful weekend reuniting with many of the friends with whom I grew up:

Yesterday was a full-on existential crisis. With my companion gone and the weekend with friends past, I was left in a stupor. Exhausted, hungover, caffeine-deprived, untethered in Rockland County. There is that moment at the end of the exhale when there is emptiness, a void, contracted to nothingness. The release feels good, the letting go, the purge. But the chaos on the way out is uncomfortable, the loss painful and the emptiness terrifying. I could see the structure of my life...my children, my community, my parents, my career my friends all standing by. Reduced to a pulpy substance the way New York seems so easily to do to me, I could see them all, but I couldn't reach them. Thoughts of my daughter's imminent arrival helped me coalesce back into a recognizable form. Motherhood will do that for you. I could hardly show up at JFK in my pulpy puddle form. 

And so today I begin the inhale once again. Expansion, regeneration. My old house is gone, and so must be my attachment to it. New selves are waiting for their mother to nurture and grow them.

So here I sit at the conclusion of a momentous year, holding the exhale and doing cartwheels in the space I've created before filling it back up with fresh air.

Inaugural Post

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.

There have been many great words spoken to commemorate the start a new American presidency. Since I don't have a speech writer on staff, I'm on my own in writing this first post on my new blog. In the spirit of being real, which you will learn is of utmost importance to me, I am simply going to say, "Let's do this thing."

And just like that, I have a blog.