Dying

Spirituality is a dying process in so many levels. It is initially the death of the ego. I say initially because in my view, after the ego has been recognized, observed and understood, it has to be integrated back instead of denied. The tricky thing is to be aware of when it is activating and not to completely and blindly identify with it. Egoless existence, in my view, would make it futile to hold a job, have friends, to ever sustain a non-ascetic life. If your destiny is to be egoless, it would be immensely difficult if not impossible to traverse in this worldly existence, thus those who choose or are called to such a life retreat to either monastic life or that of a renunciate in the caves of Himalayas.

Spirituality also grounds on you on the impermanent nature of reality and this world. It (ideally) frees you from your attachments – desires, money, possessions, relationships – to a degree that you are prepared to die and leave this plane at any given moment. This is one facet of moksha, liberation: to truly live each day from a place of carpe diem free of stickiness and complications.

Every once in a while, I ponder on how I feel about death. I will not claim this to be an original idea of mine, because Vedanta (and other Eastern philosophies) is very heavy on this. The thought of death puts a lot of things in perspective. Things appear miniscule and inconsequential when the bottom line is advanced to the forefront of our compulsions, intentions and actions. It gives a whole dimension of awareness to our daily machinations and takes us out of autopilot. Everything is done with more deliberation. We taste and feel more. We are present and live more.

Last night, I was woken up by heavy footsteps in the living room at 2AM. My first thought was that there is an intruder in my house. I paused for a second to make sure I wasn’t dreaming the whole thing. F*ck. I wasn’t dreaming. There was somebody in the kitchen. The interesting thing was, I didn’t panic. I just laid there calmly. I could have reached for the heavy flashlight or the pepper spray in one of the drawers, or one of the sharp objects within reach that I had prepared for exactly a moment like this, but I felt resigned, almost ready, to, well, die.

Then I remembered I had a roommate. She lets out her dog to pee sometimes at ungodly hours.

I crack myself up so hard sometimes.

Something Doesn't Always Have to Give

In the last week, I have probably danced at least ten hours. I have been recruited to Salsa Reno's Bachata Dance Troupe which entails weekly rehearsals leading up to the International Bachata Festival in January 2011. Considering that I have a full-time job, friends outside of dancing, and an endless stack of books, it is a lot of time away from other things in my life. There's ultimate frisbee and running that I have to add in to that mix. In the backburner, there's rock climbing (the most immediate one since I intend to rock climb in Koh Laoliang, Thailand in a month), GRE for Grad School, and a foreign language class before Europe next summer.

I was supposed to play frisbee at 10:30AM today, but I had to cave in to more time resuscitating and reenergizing. I was up until 3AM this morning and was dancing from pretty much 9PM onwards. My feet hate me right now. I am sorry, frisbee. My bed takes precedence. I think I might have to give you up for now.

I have been running like a madwoman at 100 miles per hour last week and my one constant fear is that I will lose time for probably one of the most important things in my life which is nurturing my spirit. I think I will absolutely loathe myself if I give that part of my life up. I checked my email today and I came across a series of lectures on "Art Sutra - Buddhism, Yoga and the Search for Selfless Expression". I missed kirtan last night, but I could still manage to go to "Art, Music and Spiritual Practice" if I so desired. And so I crawled out of bed telling myself if I can dance for 15 hours, I could do something meditative for 1.5 hours.

I walked in the room and I immediately felt embraced by the potent energy of the room, the people. I sat on the floor and dropped in. I got goosebumps. The collective energy of the room was wildly, palpably, overwhelming. I needed this.

The talk was given by Darin McFadyen, a lively person with his soul right in his laughing eyes, for everyone to take. He had long, thick hair in dreadlocks, I was curious what how they would feel like between my fingers. He had a very endearing English accent and I suspect he's from London. He sat in front of the room, on a cushion, cross-legged. He had a very lean body frame which tells me he could be at the very least vegetarian (if he's Buddhist, he very well must be), or a raw foodist, and maybe does Yoga. He had a white t-shirt on and jeans. He is a DJ. A regular guy. Nothing about him would say "spiritual" except if you picked up on the red string (is it a kalava?) tied on his right wrist.

I went to this place without any expectations. I didn't know what he was going to talk about. It turns out, it was about making your art (be it music, dance, visual) your Yoga. Making it your meditation. Making it your spiritual practice. How? Simple. By offering your art for the goodness of the world. Can you imagine this kind of loving consciousness? It's insanely radical.

I already see my dancing as a meditation. Outside of class, I get absorbed by the dance. It is a transcendental experience for me. I am lost. There is no dancer. There is no dance. One melts in the other. And I believe in the inspiring power of art in whatever shape or form. It can lift you up. It can take you to higher consciousness sometimes. It is a medium for people to come together and meet in the unitive space of the oneness. I remember a few weeks ago at a social dance party, someone approached me after I had finished dancing the merengue. She said, "It was so beautiful watching you dance." I have only been dancing a couple months then and I was so honored to touch something in a complete stranger without doing anything extra-special or world-churning. I just danced.

But to offer dancing for the love of humanity? That is just totally radical. I have never heard of such a thing. But I see the unseen in this DJ and I touch it. The genuineness. I intuitively see that this is what he does. This is his truth. This is reality. He believes in it with every strand of his wild dreadlocks. If he can do it, why in the world can't I?

I am deeply attached to my spiritual practice. I often say that it saved my life. And my belief is, all beings, at some point in their lives, have to find it. It is an inevitability. To even fathom that I could lose it because I am pouring myself into other things kills me. But today, I realized that something doesn't always have to give. There can be a merger of these two passions. They are not delineated. They are different expressions that can lead to the same place.

And it blows my mind that until noon today, I did not know that I would be meeting such a soul today with such a message. There are no accidents.

When the talk was over, Darrin and I chatted for a little bit. He grasped my hands and held me tight and we were crown-to-crown. We were not talking - it's not necessary. We held each other and was lost in the pure love of it.

True unconditional love, baby.

Unconditional love from me to you and Namaste,

Trish

On Neuroplasticity

I find myself drawn to teachers who straddle the delicate line between exoteric and esoteric, who walk between the ethereal and the material, who balance between the spiritual and the worldly. On the material plane, I understand that this is a very dualistic way of seeing the reality of things, but I have to be honest about where I am. I cannot claim non-dualism and oneness when I am not there. I guess this is why I am drawn to The Dalai Lama who is a staunch supporter of both science and religion. The Buddha himself has been said to possess a scientific mind as well in his adamant teaching for his students to experience the teachings for themselves. Empirical knowledge, after all, may be one of those things that can leave lasting imprints on people. As opposed to just reading or hearing or understanding something from a purely intellectual level, first-hand experience and experimentation is still the most powerful of teachers.

I am astounded by the stuff that I have been finding about the intersection of spirituality and science, particularly how it has been scientifically proven that meditative practices do have positive and lasting effects on the brain, and therefore, can also alter a persons disposition. If you are curious, here is a video of Rick Hanson, a neuro-psychologist-slash-Buddhist-practitioner-slash-meditation-teacher, talking at Google about his scientific findings in the spiritual realm.

While the Eastern practices of meditation are said to eventually lead us to enlightenment (which really is essentially "moksha" or liberation and, in Christianity, eternal salvation and heaven), my experience has been that psychology can be used with these contemplative practices as a powerful tool to get to the same place. I personally like Carl Jung's definition of enlightenment - that which is to bring unconsciousness to consciousness.

We live in a very cluttered, chaotic world, and admit it, we have been conditioned all our lives to assimilate, socialize and conform. If we survive adolescence and the early impressionable years of adulthood unscathed, then awesome. More power. But does that really exist? Does anyone really ever get here without any form of psychological wounding? Then when we get older (happens at mid-life for a lot of people), there is a sudden onslaught of existential questions. Is this all that there is? This can't be it. There has to be more to life than this. Some turn to fast cars and boob jobs. Some turn to a Higher Being. If we choose the latter path, we then realize that everything they told us when we were young about happiness has been wrong - success, money, houses, cars - they all bring us fleeting waves of happiness but not lasting and true joy. Where is that everlasting happiness then if it cannot be bought or acquired?

I personally believe that psychology in whatever form you can get it (podcasts, books, psychotherapy, dream analysis, etc.) can be that bridge between your past and everything you knew about life, and where you want to be, which is to become that vessel of joy, love, compassion, and unconditionality. I am not a New Age chick and I don't proselytize self help books either. I think it is important to exercise both caution and discrimination when choosing who to listen to or read. What is also important to me is that these people have to 1.) do or have done the work themselves and 2.) are grounded in proven teachings, which are usually a combination of Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism and Buddhism.

Spirituality is known to be a safe place to hide. Everything is supposedly happy, mellow, zen, and perfect. It's an easy fix, people think. I just sit and my life will suddenly get better??? If it was seriously THAT easy, wouldn't you think then that enlightenment would be everywhere?

My reality has been that because of my psychological make-up and controlling tendencies, I cannot get to that unchanging place of perpetual oneness and unceasing bliss and reside there unless I deal with my demons first. I cannot use spirituality as an escape route, as another identity that I build around myself out of my need to feel whole and complete. I have to deserve that. I have to work for it. I have to sort out my issues because they are there. Denial of their existence doesn't work and I know because I have tried it again and again. Meditation alone will not heal. It is not meant to.

I do believe that people are wired very differently. In Yoga, there are four paths because someone somewhere (Patanjali? I don't even know..) realized that people have different tendencies and inclinations. Some think more than they feel. Some are more anahata than sahasrara (see more about chakras here, if you're interested). According to one of my Vedanta teachers, each of the four Yogas speaks to certain types of personalities. Jnana is for the scholarly, intellectual types. Karma is for the givers and caretakers. Bhakti is for the devotional. Raja is for the contemplative. Ultimately, the goal is to integrate all of these paths.

My teachers are my teachers. My experiences are my own. In as much as I am, on the deepest of levels, one with everything, I have unique fingerprints that nobody else in the world has. Yes, we are one, but we are separate and we must accept and embrace that separateness before we can get to the oneness...

Dharamsala Calling

I missed a golden opportunity to see The Fourteenth Dalai Lama today.

I crawled to bed early last night because my body has been fighting a battle with an impending cold the last four days. Although my body has been winning (and I am impressed, but even more grateful), sometimes, even the most valiant of warriors get weary and need to rest his head to prepare for another day of battle. As I was resting, I had missed a call from my Indian brother to call his dad, my Indian Father. He didn't say what it was about so I figured it probably wasn't a life and death situation. I decided to call him back in the morning.

After I got to work, I dialed my Indian Father's number on my cellphone.

"Hello, Trish. How are you? I thought you said you wanted to meet The Dalai Lama? We're going to see him today."

I had to ask him to repeat what he said because sometimes, his accent is too thick, I have trouble understanding his words.

"The Dalai Lama. We are leaving right now for San Jose. To see The Dalai Lama. Are you at work? Leave your car there. We'll pick you up."

Who would have imagined that I would be having a conversation like this on a Tuesday morning?

Unfortunately, I had to turn it down. The responsible and sensible part of me had to. If I wasn't already at work, things would have turned out differently and I am only left to think that this is not yet the time for The Dalai Lama and I to meet.

There are many, many great men who live today, among our midst, who do selfless, tremendous acts to change the world. I have so much respect and admiration for The Dalai Lama for his compassionate and passionate approach to not even just governing while in exile, but of loving humanity as a whole. Men like him inspire me to challenge the way I'm living my own life, urging myself to extend out of my own self, to live a more selfless existence.

My friend Fiana has been in India for a few weeks now and she has asked me to meet her in Varkala. I declined. I do not feel called nor compelled.

But for Dharamsala, I feel differently. Dharamsala calls me.

Maybe next year?

Musings on Reincarnation

The last weekend was like nothing I have had in a very long time. I was not travelling nor planning or packing for a trip. I listened to my body and gave in to long naps and afternoon movies with the shutters shut close and the A/C and strawberry shortcake ice cream bringing a delicious respite from the outside heat. I did not see any friends, did not go out unless absolutely necessary. I even skipped River Prom! What a splendid way to spend the weekend. I was quite productive, too, as I tornadoed through the unromantic, unglamorous catch-up work required after one has been on the road continuously and after one had guests sleeping over a few weeks before, i.e. unpacking, changing sheets, washing the sheets, folding the sheets, putting away the sheets. It felt good not to be a road warrior for a change. I was just me, sauntering around in my underwear all weekend, in my own little tight cocoon.

On Sunday, I spent the morning at a Vedanta (read: Yoga) retreat in Carnelian Bay in Lake Tahoe sharing the energy of people who are literally glowing (I kid you not). They seriously have sunbeams on their eyes and a red, happy glow on the apples of their cheeks. I call this a sincere, quiet, radiance. Nobody has to acknowledge it or publicize it. It just is. And fleeting as it may, it doesn’t matter. If we cannot dwell in it in perpetuity, or on the California freeway, or in our 9-5, what matters is that it is possible to touch this place that each one of us has within us every once in a while.

It has almost been a year since I have seen Swami Prabuddhananda. He started talking to me the instant he saw me. My typical reaction is to just smile there and nod like an idiot because before you is a man whose discipline and passion for truth-seeking is obvious. How could one not admire that? And what do you say to someone like that? Everything else that is not God seems irrelevant and miniscule. I had to repress my urges to keep bowing with hands folded in prayer. Imagine what I would be like in front of someone like the Dalai Lama!

Now for those of you who are invested in my being a Catholic, repress the heart attack. I still consider myself a Catholic. While I have exposed myself to Hinduism and Buddhism, I have not been converted to either one, nor do I see myself doing so. On the contrary, my experience of these eastern traditions have seriously made me a better follower of Christ. Actually, to take it further, it has made me live a more conscious, joyful and life-filled existence. In short, I truly believe that I am a better person because of it. I remember telling The Italian (who’s obviously Catholic) that I don’t think we should choose a single religion. Man wrote those rules. I think what God would like us to do is Be Love. I know. Sounds like a hippie, slogan, right? Get over it. Or leave this blog. :) In eastern traditions, it is common to hear that man’s purpose in life is to self-realize, to be enlightened, which is done through meditation, study, and relentless compassion. We supposedly go through endless incarnations because we have not attained enlightenment. Once we do in one lifetime, then our cycle of rebirth is over. They say that this phenomenon explains why sometimes we feel inexplicable affinities with people and places, or why we get déjà vu. We feel like we have been in certain places before because we very could well have in previous lifetimes.

I don’t know if I believe in births and rebirths. And honestly, I think that although fascinating, I think it doesn’t really play any relevant role in our quest for enlightenment or being good, noble, happy people. This I will say though. In the last year, I have cultivated a handful of soulful relationships that have almost terrifying magnitudes of connection, most of which are incomprehensible to the logical mind. If I attempt to dissect it, the only semi-rational conclusion I can come up with is this: in a past life, we must have been something to each other.

I met one of them again last Sunday at the Vedanta cabin. Mahadevi had a bright, open face, sunshiny eyes, salt pepper hair and a demeanor with so much tranquility and gentleness reminiscent of a sheer, light curtain, flapping with the summer wind in a nice warm beach house somewhere in the Atlantic coast. She must have been twice my age, but our souls brushed each other and instantly, we both knew. We must have been something to each other somewhere at some lifetime – a mother, a sister, a daughter, a dear friend. She has travelled from Croatia, her motherland, to India, South America, then Canada so that we can meet again that day in California. Isn’t that rad?

A piece of me is quietly grieving with a very dear friend of mine who lost her father recently. I cannot say that I completely understand her sorrow because I don’t. I can only come from my own place of loss after my own father had passed a few years ago. I look back on it and I shake my head in disbelief. How did I manage to live through that harrowing pain and mourning? How did I pull myself through that? But by some miracle and with a lot of love from people around, I did. My mother and siblings did, too. It may be such a far-out and wild idea, but what if just like meeting someone like Mahadevi in this lifetime, it is inevitable that we will meet again the ones we loved most and lost in another lifetime? What if that reunion will be a “Nice meeting you…again”? What if in that rare moment of recognition, you don’t know how or why, but seeing that soul vibrant and alive again resolves all the questions you asked then?

What if?

Karaoke, Lumpia.. Kumbaya!!

The Colonel sent me an email today in response to my latest blog post. I was fighting tears when I read the email. Sometimes, I feel very alienated because it seems like I'm going through growth and transformation at precocious speeds. I look around and no one else seems to be going through the same introspective experience. Some of the things that matter to me, I find don't matter to other people. The things I ponder on like consciousness and true unconditional love seem absent in what people think about before they fall asleep. It is a personal journey, and one that is proving to be hecka lonely and I agree with The Colonel, pretty humiliating sometimes. So it is refreshing to have an exchange with someone who has gone through similar experiences. It makes the path a little less lonely and times like these, company is definitely welcome.

When I started writing my blog, I never really expected people to read it. But since I've published it, I've had random people tell me how they appreciate reading about how I skate, sometimes, limp my way through life. But I never expected the encouragement that The Colonel has been showering me with! I am very grateful.

The last couple of weeks, I’ve been spending time alone and have not had any “distracting male company”. I think this could be the longest stretch of time I have gone without such distractions since The Breakup. My resolve is not the strongest sometimes so where my own will has failed, I have prayed for the Powers That Be to intervene. Now that it is here, some cathartic things are cropping up. They are going to be difficult to face, but it is something I know I have to do.

While I think I have done a pretty good job of recovering from The Breakup since it's been a year after all, I still have a lot of work to do. The guilt still eats me alive, and maybe that is a healthy thing to feel. So I allow it to come. I just keep on praying that one day, I get to forgive myself. Forgive myself from what exactly, I don’t even know what yet.

I have a rose bush in the front yard that is 90% dead. A neighbor told me that

I need to cut off the dead branches for the new ones to grow. After I got home from work today, I finally confronted this task I have been avoiding. As I cut the old, dead parts away, I thought how life sometimes works the same way. Sometimes, to live, we must die first.

Now more than ever, I am very fortunate to be surrounded by people like The Colonel and the Italian both - people who do a lot of work on themselves and people who recognize that it is an unending process only possible with God’s grace. They are inspiring people who bring God-ness alive here today, in real life. People who are Yogis in their own right and who are living spiritual, contemplative lives without having to enter the convent/priesthood, without having to leave their professional careers. The interesting thing is there are too many parallelisms between the two to ignore. They are both engineers, both Catholics, and both were addicts at some point. Both are completely sober now and share a passion for fast motorcycles. Funny thing is, they have never met. It will be interesting to bring these two people in a room. Will it instantly feel like they are looking at a mirror when they first meet?

And speaking of gratitude for people who become part of the patchwork of our lives, the most intimate people in my life (sans The Colonel and The Italian who are both out of the country, and a couple of Yogis) gathered for an early

birthday lunch filled with laughter and sunshine on Saturday. It was the first time I have brought these people together and it’s amazing to just sit back and watch how everyone’s heart open up to the person they have just met. There were so many little conversations, I could not keep track of a single one. People were talking about meditation and Artown and religion and history and tiramisu and culture and salsa dancing and Filipinos, before the craziness of karaoke started. There was so much genuineness around, it still warms my heart when I think about it. The Indian made jokes about himself and before leaving tells me he is glad he finally met my Mother. My Mother tells me she sees so much goodness in The Cheerleader. The Cheerleader tells me she really likes the girl who Almost-

Became-a-Nun. The Australian calls me today and said the same thing, except that she mentions the guy who Almost-Became-a-Priest as well. My Indian Sister ran into The-Neighbor-who-Mows-My-Lawn who she knew from college. The following afternoon, after partying until 3AM, the Cousin and I curled up on the couch to get (re) initiated into the genius that is Moonlighting (Oh, David Addison, you make me swoon).

And it cannot go without mention how my heart still swells yet with more gratitude for my Mother, a great, giving woman, who went to such great lengths to prepare such a fabulous meal for all the guests. She slaved in the kitchen and made everyone feel like they were her own family.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is unconditional love.

XOXOXOXO

Trish

P.S. It’s been unbearably hot lately, I know, but today I saw a postman in the 89431 (old/downtown Sparks) walking under the scorching afternoon sun just so you can get your bills, Netflix movie, magazine subscription and other snail mail in your mailbox. Such unsung heroes, these people who keep our postal system running as it should. Next time you are on the verge of complaining how hot it is, it wouldn’t hurt to stifle it and imagine walking a mile in the mailman’s shoes.

P.P.S. The lavender that I planted in the ground a week ago is doing well! There is hope for me after all. I have not killed the rosemarys yet, but the last two lavenders that went in the ground are in a coma right now. I hope they make it. I am secretly hoping that for my birthday, someone will get me this type of evergreen tree I was enamored by (still researching what species it is) at a recent hike, but instead I got a cyclamen, and I’m happy! She even came with an aquaglobe!

P.P.P.S. On Sunday, my Cousin let me drive her Jaguar. Funny how it does not feel any different than driving any other car. So I come to a conclusion that a car is a car is a car. (Of course, I have not yet driven a convertible stick Porsche). I have the same philosophy about people. People are people are people. I know I just labeled a bunch of people in this post, but I felt compelled to do so to protect the anonymity of the innocent. :)

Do Cartwheels with Me: The Inaugural Post

I have grappled with the idea of publishing a blog for while now. I have been fortunate to be the recipient of random acts of encouragement from strangers and friends alike who believe I have inspiring and provocative things to say. Yes, existentialism, spirituality and philosophy is sexy.

I have tendencies to over-introspect sometimes, and what is very common in those soliloquies is that I examine my intentions carefully. It comes with the territory of being a jnana Yogi-wannabe, I suppose. I am very careful about avoiding doing things for purely egotistical reasons. I have been trying to live my life from a less fleeting and changeable place and you would be surprised at how such self-introspection brings a lot of things to clarity, objectivity, compassion, and love. You know, the feel-good, permanent but elusive things in life.

So the question about whether to blog or not to blog was - ego or higher Self?

I resisted the idea because talking about oneself is easily written off in our society as narcissistic. How could a free-for-all massively public journal be any different? I say it's the intention behind the action. Monologues about one's long list of achievements, possessions, and experiences develop a sour flavor to it when the intention is to glorify oneself, to separate oneself from others by basically saying, "I am better than you, or anyone else, for that matter". But if the intention is to acknowledge the fact that life is as puzzling as heck sometimes but that will not stop me from trying to find some (semblance of) answers, and maybe if the answers elude me, just even accept that, isn't that coming from a more honest place devoid of the self-righteousness?

So here I am - again, not reluctantly or regretfully, but not without deliberation and consternation either!

While I am honored that some people find practical wisdom in what I say, I am publishing this without overt intentions of saving humanity from itself, eliminating poverty, cultivating world peace, protecting animal rights, and whatever the latest philanthropic fad is. I am doing this for me, not so much for you. This is merely a chronicle of my personal celebration of life, conversations and musings, travels and experiences, frolics and wanderings - but more importantly, how those things alter me. This is intended to be a creative outlet sharing with whoever has the desire to eavesdrop on those intimate, interpersonal conversations I'm notorious for having with myself. This will be a mosaic of the things life is made of - love, family and friends, places, the beach, stars, music and dancing, shopping, food, romances, heartbreaks, Yoga, dreams, living and dying, the future, jobs, laughter, and what-have-you. And if all this new agey-ness has not turned you off yet, this will be an account of my own pilgrimage back to my soul.

Here's something I noticed in the last week, too. Writing is a creative outlet for me that only makes an appearance when I'm most in tune with myself. Does that make any sense? My creative energy flows when I'm connected to that honest (not necessarily happy) place in me. If something somehow interferes with that, I can have a staring match with my computer screen for hours, days, and not write a single thing. So another selfish reason to write, I'm here to nourish my soul.

Since we will get inevitably intimate and personal anyway, here's the first big first revelation: I don't know how to do cartwheels.

But so what? That doesn't deter me from wanting to do them and attempting to do them (unfortunately, due to societal pressure, I don't always attempt to do them right when I get the urge... cartwheels in the office hallway in a dress might be serious grounds for termination). All of us have bucket list of things we always have wanted to do but put off for one reason or another. This blog is my profession that there exists no other moment than what's here right now, so let's quit being wussies and just dive fearlessly in. When are you going to start living?

Do cartwheels with me. It's not a suggestion nor a command, but perhaps a premonition. If you stick around long enough, the possibilities are limitless.

Namaste,

Trish