Two Ways

When watching a dance performance, despite the tickets being most expensive for the front rows, I choose to be in the back. Many times, I have evaluated this preference in some depth. If I am close, I can see the faces and their minute expressions, I can easily focus all of my attention onto a specific dancer. The judgement of each hand gesture is easier to pass and of all other now easily-observed nuances. The opportunity to watch the performance with a magnifying glass that is the logical mind is great. Sitting in the back, however, while this dissection is still present, lends itself to an open viewing: a larger and more whole way of absorbing the entire scene laid out on the stage. I can encompass the entirety of the feeling, of all the dresses, of all the bodies, of all the energy as a collective experience. I can feel the beauty and grandeur of the one big thing which, if I allow it, can envelop and swallow me. I can lose myself into the dance. This other extreme of experience cannot be had with the cutting of the performance into its individual pieces.

This is as true as watching a visual performance, as it is looking at a piece of art, at a person, or a flower. The ability to perceive the entirety of the object without judgement, without label; the ability to be overtaken by the object's beauty as one unit; the ability to surrender to the object's being and essence creates further beauty and further unity and a deep experience where the end result is boundless expansion, freedom, and awe. 

False Sense

A rant.

Everyone knows.. Walking around with all the answers, talking and talking. So few listen quietly and attentively. We live in our reptilian brain most of the time and we think we know.. How can we know when the majority of waking hours is spent in defending one thing or another, be it our body, our idea, our belief. The liberals think the others are inferior and closed-minded but behave just as their perceived enemy. We are willing to kill for peace on earth. 

We think we know and take great pride in our knowledge and reasoning skills. We are just as enamored with ourselves when we help our mankind. It takes just a few minutes of observing animals who are kind to their own and "the other" as part of their natural life. Nothing special in helping another out. This isn't even human nature, it seems to be animal nature. If animals kill, it's just enough to survive. Humans kill as a matter of normal existence to, as stated above, defend something, usually an idea or a belief, or to feel superior, or just because they are bored and, well.. can! 

Reading this may seem like I am also writing as if I know something and have all the answers. I don't know a thing other than what I have experienced. And it's very limited, to say the least. What I am aware of is that we, on the whole, are too identified with our thoughts and our bodies. Some are identified with their guns and other accessories. There are people who match their guns to the belt buckle to be worn that day. Doctors are eager to cut up kids' bodies to turn them into someone else, or to fulfill the vision they have of themselves (aka ego): scientists, saviors, caregivers, servants, money-makers. We believe that our own thoughts are truth until we drive to another town and learn that they, too, have their truth. And neither one of us has it right. 

We know very little about our own selves. We see the world through a lens we know as "me." And this self is nothing great, just thoughts and more thoughts. Yes, these thoughts can be creative and imaginative. These thoughts can create art and build stuff. But they cannot be the truth. Why not change our thoughts like we do clothes? But we don't change our clothes or hair styles that much either. What would it be like to shed one's personality altogether? And regularly? So attached we are to who we think we are, to who we made ourselves to be. So much effort was put into creating the persona seen by the world. And we will stand there, beating our chests to stand by that image. And it is simply that: an image.

And I return to making the same point. We walk around like we are a somebody. Some important and valuable thing. Perhaps indispensable, or wanting to feel like we are. And then we bump into another who also has a big idea of who he is. And then my idea fights with his idea. 

I stand apart, then merge and melt into the nonsense of it all, then stand back again, like a constantly moving wave.  All I know, the only thing I know, is that love is the only answer to see past all the mind clutter, to see past the body, mine and everyone else's, and to feel the existence of something that knows nothing of war and argument. It is a deep, slow, vast nameless something, that holds all the nonsense together. But this nonsense can dissolve into the great unknown and just stop talking. When the talking stops, the need to kill, own, prove, argue, hurt, manipulate falls apart. 

As I see it, from the plateau of my current living, there is a great need to dis-identify from the false sense of self.

Becoming

This is an ode to the people

Who let me stay with them

To clean their crowded houses

And a little of themselves

To those scared people

Who spoke without love

They couldn't really see me:

I did not stand up tall

I will tame down the daggers

That sit beneath the flesh

I will turn venom sweet

And write a poem again

I'll rise up from the ashes

Once more and once again

The grandeur of dark vastness

Sings songs of high terrain

Between the Unseen

I know what he is saying, the mystic from long ago. When only living in the current moment, nothing is predictable, and everything is a possibility. He speaks words that come to him spontaneously. He speaks not from the mind, not from thinking. He simply is available to the moment, to what exists here and now. And what exists here and now is a mystery, an unknown to him. 

When he speaks, it's a surprise to him as it is a surprise to his listeners. And he might not be able to repeat it again, for it is not he who is speaking. It doesn't come from memory, and it cannot be rehearsed or pre-conceived. And there is no recorded conscious memory of it. It bypasses all rationality. It comes from elsewhere, and it dissipates to everywhere.

And so it is in my dance. I can not know what will come next. I do not know which move will be expressed by my tiny hands and the piece of hair flying across my face. It is a mystery to me until the very moment that the movement shows itself in any part of the body it wants to, delighting me and my audience. 

Just like the mystic, I can repeat myself or I may not. It is just a happening: unplanned, unexpected, natural, and unique. Unique to that moment and that moment only. I marvel and wait for what the next sound, the upcoming rhythm will pull out of my soul, which is what this is: a communication between the unseen. 

Magic

I love dancing at the end of the event.. when most people have left and the floor space is big .. and there is a leftover energy from the preceding two hours … and the mind is on vacation.. and nothing matters and anything goes..

And it’s just your essence, the sweet energy of your partner, the juice of the music, and some unnamed alchemy that glues it all together...giving way to an experience of expansion and freedom.

If I am to leave this earth right now, I would like the epitaph to say: "Lived to create beauty."

Abandon

Something died that day

Or those days

A deflated balloon

Smeared on the ground

Like a lizard without its tail

Alive but missing a piece of itself

While the new seed

Has not yet straightened 

Its earthed sprout

Maybe not even planted

In its hurry to find protection

Something was destroyed

That month

Or those months

An innocence mocked

Misunderstood

Squashed with a word

Like a child slapped

Across a smiling face

Stunned and confused

While the mind

Struggles to regain balance

And composure

To create a newness

That can remember

The laugh of abandon

For the Love of Dance

Love does not exist between minds and bodies.

 

Love exists in and between beings.

When the body and mind are only in the background, when the body is the vehicle through which one sees and the mind is quiet and not interfering or interpreting, one being can sense the other. Or oneself. 

Dance provides that avenue. Meditation does also. Dance becomes a meditation if a state is reached when the body is loose, expansive, without a need to protect itself while the mind powers down like a laptop. An exhalation of the entire system ensues and two beings can feel connected instantly and profoundly.

Meditation is love. A state of the deepest relaxation where nothing is. Only a state of being. And love arises and lives in and between Beings.

The Norm

Work is one of the greatest distractions. From ourselves.

Four hours a day is more than enough to contribute to society, think creatively, produce for the boss man. It's also sufficient time to spend with work friends and get the social needs met. Add two hours of commute time, and we're up to six hours a day dedicated to work. Plenty of time to be distracted. 

Physical labor, more so than mental,  depletes the mind of its juice to bother about anything after the day is done. Hence, unless we spent time working alone while pulling weeds or clearing trails, whereby our mind would have had the energy, time, and the perfect environment to self-reflect, doing so after a day full of physical exertion becomes nearly impossible. Mental work often includes dealing with a variety of personalities and conflict, all of which leave some kind of a residue on our system. Then, once the day is done, the mind is occupied with who said what, all the drama, and some degree of self-reflection. While the TV is one and the food is on the plate in our lap. Or in the mouth.

On some level, robots are good for humanity. A mix of people and robots would be very good. We need to have a sense of purpose and a reason to wake up every morning. At the same time, we cannot continue to avoid ourselves every single day. Add taking care of a family to the mix, and there is but a few minutes to be absolutely alone. 

Maybe not that soon, but at some point, the emphasis on distraction will be reduced and a balance between doing and being will be the norm. 

A Meeting

I, in my careless abandon

You, in a mix of the same with a healthy doze of measured caution

You, with a certain kind of experience

I, with another kind of inexperience

We, seeking a higher human experience

To jump to heights unbeknownst

Maybe poor timing

Most likely wrong match

But as the poem outcries

"I'd risk the fall just to know what it feels to fly."

Self-Sabotage

The very thing that we desire is the very thing that we block ourselves from experiencing. This is a kind of a madness. The deep longing that nudges us to enter relationships, especially the romantic kind, is to connect. Not simply connect. Connect at the core, where two feel like one. This is the meaning of yoga: union. A union that unites pieces that are apart, that are separate. There is a disconnect within and disconnect from others. We long for the distance to disappear and oneness to appear. And yet, the instinct of self-preservation creates a wall, usually thick, that prevents the very act of connection to occur. 

There are two forces that battle within us: the force that wants to reach out and pull the stranger into our interiority, and the force that wants to protect us from being taken over by that very same stranger. This conflict is the mother of all conflicts in our relationships. 

The withdrawing influence of fear is battling the expansion inspired by love. 

The protection mechanism believes that barriers will prevent possible future suffering. The very act of putting up the wall creates suffering, for the possibility of freedom is taken away. Living behind the fence may be familiar and apparently safe, however it paves a way to slow suffocation. On the other hand, opening up fully may feel like a risk. The stranger may take advantage or see deep into our inadequacy. It may feel very uncomfortable but it is precisely here that the opportunity for experiencing oneness is created. We can choose to live in the reptilian brain or become aware of and develop our capabilities as humans. 

It is up to us to choose.

The End

I would have walked to the edge of the earth with you

I would have tried to learn cartwheels if you had asked me to

Just as you decided to throw hot flames

I had no choice and drove away

Still in Progress

A meeting of two beings is a sweet surrender

And that of two minds is conflict eternal

The question is posed as to where to find

A way to place aside the begging mind?

It has been a reality in some distant past

The taste of freedom and a joyful path

Yet, the gate has not been fully closed

To the insistence of needs 

That keep on changing

That like the extremes

To put one aside for months and years

Amidst the mercurial web of desires and feelings

To be united with the harmony of life

To give, just give, with a grateful heart

A meeting of two beings is oh-so sweet!

Until hidden needs disturb the peaceful scene

Bringing darkness and obscurity into the mix

Revealing the work is still in-progress indeed

There must be an answer waiting to be seen