Sawubona (this is the correct spelling of the Zulu greeting!) my
friends,
I hope I have not given anyone the impression that the white attitude
here in South Africa is generally negative toward the blacks. I have
actually found that most of the white folks are very passionate about
helping the blacks. Kath, one of the Hospice administrators here,
stood up to the system way back when she started this hospice 20
years ago and was told she couldn't serve the blacks. She did it
anyway, even though it was illegal.
It's a bit hard to tell how the blacks feel toward us. I think there
is a fair amount of fear and mistrust on one hand and a dependence on
the other. The children seem to find me a novelty when I go out into
the bush with the black staff. But that might just be their delight
at seeing anyone new.
Last Thursday I went out with a social worker and saw a different
area. It was more lush, with tall palms and banana trees. But once we
are out in the bush it gets dusty and more barren. The houses we went
to were more solid, some even nice (relatively), better furniture and
belongings. I met a woman who has twins, all of whom are HIV pos. She
is in a nice but rural house that her brother built for her parents
who have died. He has died too, so she is alone. She likes to garden
and goes to church, but she said she has no friends and doesn't get
out or do anything just for herself. Her lot is very sad. I also met
several more children. Just like we have found in Viet Nam and other
third world countries Sanctuary has visited, they love the bubbles
and stickers we bring! It takes so little to bring some joy.
I have been picking the brains of whoever I can about the greatest
needs the orphans have. It seems that the system is a big hurdle - so
backlogged that it takes years sometimes to process applications for
financial support, and then only if there is "proper" documentation
like birth certificates, etc. But, of course, many people don't have
any. There is apparently also a lot of corruption. Even after
funding is granted it is sometimes misused by the care givers.
The church, which could be a great resource for people in the
community, instead seems too often to shame and reject them. HIV and
AIDS is still so shameful here that it isolates people. And, of
course, even in this life-and-death crisis most church officials
still preach the official doctrine against the use of condoms. Those
few priests who preach otherwise get a lot of resistance and trouble
from their superiors.
Thus far, I only have a few ideas for recommendations of ways to help
address the AIDS and orphan crises, but nothing spectacular. Everyone
seems so despairing of dealing with all of the forces. I have to keep
reminding myself that we are not hoping to solve all the problems,
just nudge them in the right direction. Even if we HAD all the
resources, it would take decades to alleviate the suffering. But we
know from our work in helping Viet Nam that progress can be made. I
just don't know what could be done to give these people the hope and
determination they need. That might be the greatest poverty they have!
Love to you all,
Kate
Kate Dahlstedt
SANCTUARY INTERNATIONAL
18 Van Schoick Ave.
Albany, NY 12208
(518)463-0588
www.mentorthesoul.com
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Friday, July 22, 2005
arm chair travel
It's been a busy few weeks, with no let up in sight. I long for the days when I have a few hours to read, reflect, meditate and chant. And am counting the days til Larry and I head for the Cape for a few days of much needed R&R.
In the mean time, I've been fortunate to be transported and transformed via my inbox where I've received emails from far away places, reminders of how fortunate we are to live the lives we do, to have the luxury of wanting to learn about other cultures, and the ability to impact lives around the world.
The first is a letter from Kate Dahlstedt who works with Sanctuary International along with her husband, Ed Tick. I met them both a number of years ago at a dream healing workshop I took at The Center for Symbolic Studies.
Here's Kate's letter from Africa:
Dear friends,
Sabon. That's "hello" in Zulu. It's all I know so far. It is a
difficult language and so far I have not met whites who speak it. The
Hospice staff here is divided into groups by language, which means,
of course, that whites mostly work with white patients and blacks
with blacks. Two very different experiences. But it hasn't really
been very long that it has even been legal for the two races to
intermix.
I had an interesting talk with the wife of one of the administrators.
She was raised here but said that the separation of blacks and whites
was so complete (by design) that she really didn't know how bad off
things were. Now she says she suffers a great guilt that never
leaves her because there were some things she did see that just
didn't register as abnormal. It would be fascinating to study the
psychology of "not seeing" abuse.
Tomorrow I will go out in the field again. But there is some
confusion about who with or where. I spoke with a social worker today
who said that much of what she does is process paperwork to access
what little social welfare there is. She implied that there is
usually family to care for orphans but that the problem is that their
are so many of them in each family.
A caregiver told me a story about a mother who had no food to feed
her hungry children, so she put a pot of water on the fire and told
them that she was cooking some meat that would take a long time. She
kept telling them this when they cried and finally they fell asleep.
The next morning they asked her again and she told them they had
fallen asleep and missed it!
Interestingly, the staff tend to eat a lot! We are constantly being
offered food and it is impolite to say no! And I am staying in a very
nice home, kind of rambling, with a European feel. My hosts have very
thick British accents. We are planning to get up early to watch the
sunrise. Since it's winter it gets dark early. It feels quite
disorienting.
As you can see, my African experience is coming along somewhat
slowly. It is dominated by white South African thinking and
experience. I can really feel the divide. It is spooky.
There are so many things we do not see or know. I am honored to
share these peeks with you.
Love to all,
Kate
Kate Dahlstedt, MACP
SANCTUARY INTERNATIONAL
18 Van Schoick Ave.
Albany, NY 12208
(518)463-0588
www.mentorthesoul.com
This next communique is from Lori Flammer who I had the good fortune to meet at Omega earlier this summer (when it was still winter here in New York!). Lori was the resident yogi, and I enjoyed her morning yoga classes so much that I swore I would dedicate myself to a more consistent practice once back in New York. Alas that has not materialized, but I have managed to try a few new yoga studios over the last month, and continue to pine for more yoga in my life, knowing that my practice of karate right now takes precedent, and with yoga in my heart, it will come to my body at all the right times.
Here are some excerpts from her letters:
Hello from India!
I have been attending a ten day Ayurvedic Massage course. Our teacher, Sibi - is an interesting fellow who comes from a special Brahmin caste in Kerala called the Namboorithiri - they make up only .0002% of families in Kerala and have specialized in Ayurveda for 7,000 years. They were vaidyas and the palace doctors- always very wealthy and never needing to charge for their medicines until recent years as some ways become extinct. So, what I'm learning is actually "Traditional Ayurvedic Medicine" as opposed to Modern academic Therapies which really only evolved and became accessible in colleges in the 50's in India (according to Sibi) There are 22,000 types of Ayurvedic Medicine, 94 therapies and 15 different massages.
another:
My friend Om is actually a native of Dharamsala- his family were sheep
herders in the mountains. Om is a yogi too who is my age. He is very
easy going and has a good heart. I ask him about the area and how he feels
about all the tourists. He's OK with it.He works in a cafe called Cloud Nine
and chats regularly with folks from all over the world. He also teaches
yoga. He's the first generation who is no longer sheep herding because there
is no longer a need for it. I observed with him today that there are more
foreigners in this area than there are natives! There are so many ways
of life in India as well - here I feel that I'm exposed to more than what I
expected. This is a modern merge - a blending of people, ways,
teachings, influences. It is kinetic, energetic and beautiful.
and a beautiful line from a poem she sent:
Tickle me with rain drops,
massage me with monsoons.
Lori teaches at Yoga Vermont in Burlington. Wah! will be there at the end of August.
As for me, deadlines loom, so it is back to the computer with hopes for a lunch time karate class, and possibly a visit to the Whitney later this afternoon to see the Smithson exhibition, which I keep having to postpone. But it's up til October, so thankfully I have some time. Which is the one thing I don't seem to have enough of these days.
In the mean time, I've been fortunate to be transported and transformed via my inbox where I've received emails from far away places, reminders of how fortunate we are to live the lives we do, to have the luxury of wanting to learn about other cultures, and the ability to impact lives around the world.
The first is a letter from Kate Dahlstedt who works with Sanctuary International along with her husband, Ed Tick. I met them both a number of years ago at a dream healing workshop I took at The Center for Symbolic Studies.
Here's Kate's letter from Africa:
Dear friends,
Sabon. That's "hello" in Zulu. It's all I know so far. It is a
difficult language and so far I have not met whites who speak it. The
Hospice staff here is divided into groups by language, which means,
of course, that whites mostly work with white patients and blacks
with blacks. Two very different experiences. But it hasn't really
been very long that it has even been legal for the two races to
intermix.
I had an interesting talk with the wife of one of the administrators.
She was raised here but said that the separation of blacks and whites
was so complete (by design) that she really didn't know how bad off
things were. Now she says she suffers a great guilt that never
leaves her because there were some things she did see that just
didn't register as abnormal. It would be fascinating to study the
psychology of "not seeing" abuse.
Tomorrow I will go out in the field again. But there is some
confusion about who with or where. I spoke with a social worker today
who said that much of what she does is process paperwork to access
what little social welfare there is. She implied that there is
usually family to care for orphans but that the problem is that their
are so many of them in each family.
A caregiver told me a story about a mother who had no food to feed
her hungry children, so she put a pot of water on the fire and told
them that she was cooking some meat that would take a long time. She
kept telling them this when they cried and finally they fell asleep.
The next morning they asked her again and she told them they had
fallen asleep and missed it!
Interestingly, the staff tend to eat a lot! We are constantly being
offered food and it is impolite to say no! And I am staying in a very
nice home, kind of rambling, with a European feel. My hosts have very
thick British accents. We are planning to get up early to watch the
sunrise. Since it's winter it gets dark early. It feels quite
disorienting.
As you can see, my African experience is coming along somewhat
slowly. It is dominated by white South African thinking and
experience. I can really feel the divide. It is spooky.
There are so many things we do not see or know. I am honored to
share these peeks with you.
Love to all,
Kate
Kate Dahlstedt, MACP
SANCTUARY INTERNATIONAL
18 Van Schoick Ave.
Albany, NY 12208
(518)463-0588
www.mentorthesoul.com
This next communique is from Lori Flammer who I had the good fortune to meet at Omega earlier this summer (when it was still winter here in New York!). Lori was the resident yogi, and I enjoyed her morning yoga classes so much that I swore I would dedicate myself to a more consistent practice once back in New York. Alas that has not materialized, but I have managed to try a few new yoga studios over the last month, and continue to pine for more yoga in my life, knowing that my practice of karate right now takes precedent, and with yoga in my heart, it will come to my body at all the right times.
Here are some excerpts from her letters:
Hello from India!
I have been attending a ten day Ayurvedic Massage course. Our teacher, Sibi - is an interesting fellow who comes from a special Brahmin caste in Kerala called the Namboorithiri - they make up only .0002% of families in Kerala and have specialized in Ayurveda for 7,000 years. They were vaidyas and the palace doctors- always very wealthy and never needing to charge for their medicines until recent years as some ways become extinct. So, what I'm learning is actually "Traditional Ayurvedic Medicine" as opposed to Modern academic Therapies which really only evolved and became accessible in colleges in the 50's in India (according to Sibi) There are 22,000 types of Ayurvedic Medicine, 94 therapies and 15 different massages.
another:
My friend Om is actually a native of Dharamsala- his family were sheep
herders in the mountains. Om is a yogi too who is my age. He is very
easy going and has a good heart. I ask him about the area and how he feels
about all the tourists. He's OK with it.He works in a cafe called Cloud Nine
and chats regularly with folks from all over the world. He also teaches
yoga. He's the first generation who is no longer sheep herding because there
is no longer a need for it. I observed with him today that there are more
foreigners in this area than there are natives! There are so many ways
of life in India as well - here I feel that I'm exposed to more than what I
expected. This is a modern merge - a blending of people, ways,
teachings, influences. It is kinetic, energetic and beautiful.
and a beautiful line from a poem she sent:
Tickle me with rain drops,
massage me with monsoons.
Lori teaches at Yoga Vermont in Burlington. Wah! will be there at the end of August.
As for me, deadlines loom, so it is back to the computer with hopes for a lunch time karate class, and possibly a visit to the Whitney later this afternoon to see the Smithson exhibition, which I keep having to postpone. But it's up til October, so thankfully I have some time. Which is the one thing I don't seem to have enough of these days.
Monday, July 18, 2005
A Meeting with Mentalist
Woo..look at his appearance..do you believe he can READ your mind? I was lucky to attend a meeting session with Deddy Corbuzier, one of the top mentalists in magic world. Well of course this is another event brought by MMF, and it was held in one of the Thai restaurant in Sunway Pyramid..and the atmosphere there just matchingly exudes feelings of mystery..very, very scary. Mentalism is not
Sunday, July 17, 2005
A Night to be Remembered
25th Jun 2005, a big day of everyone in my family: My bro's wedding day! We had been planning for quite some time on how to make it unique and meaningful..and i think in the end we did!=) Various of performance was prepared..singing by Jackson and my niece (they sang SO professional!), magic show by me (a sure thing hehe) and a fashion show (my sis-in-law is a fashion designer). Hmm that night I
Friday, July 15, 2005
Art and Activism
This past Wednesday I had a meeting at Estee Lauder for a freelance project - so I had the opportunity for some mid-town art. And extra time as the meeting was moved out a few hours.
My first stop was The Museum of Arts and Design, which has changed its name from The American Craft Museum. Old news. But I have to say I liked the old name better. The never-ending debate over art vs. craft is a non-issue for me. I'm all about universality not exclusivity and atom splitting.
My last visit there was to the Ruth Duckworth exhibition and I mention this as a counterpoint to Wednesday's art experience in general. Duckworth's work is astonishing and exciting but one is left with a soothed soul, a feeling that "Yes, this is what it's all about." Perhaps it's the restorative essence of beauty, or - I've mentioned this before - my mood, but I think there is more to it than that.
A review of Art and the Power of Placement by Vitoria Newhouse in the summer issue of Art News points to how placement can effect the success or failure of an exhibiton.
The current exhibit at The Museum of Arts and Design is a collector's exhibition, so the variety of work makes for, I think, a difficult experience to begin with. I personally prefer to see the work of one artist or genre at a time. So my discomfort with this exhibition was a particularly personal one. There was just too much to look at for this already overstimulated artist.
So, I went for lunch and then popped over to MOMA, for what turned about to be one of the quickest museum visits ever. It was noisier in the museum than it was on the streets. Maybe it's the summer tourist influx, or the Cezanne/Pissaro , but the place was a madhouse. There's also the Friedlander exhibit.
I just couldn't take anything in.
I've been reading a lot about what's wrong with blockbuster exhibitions on other art blogs lately, and my vote against them is the sheer throngs of people. You really can't see anything. It's like a museum full of Mona Lisa's. Everyone crowded about a piece with no room for reflection of any kind, save that of the behavior of fellow human beings.
I headed for the Sculpture Garden which looked to be empty, only to find it was closed due to weather. I don't know why they close the garden when it rains. But I headed out to the street, with a new perspective of the noise of the city. Imagine finding sanctuary in the traffic on Fifth Avenue.
I then headed over to The Forum Gallery, where I took refuge in "Peter Krausz: Helen's Exile".
On my way, I passed a group of activists trying desperately to get the attention of self-absorbed New Yorkers who couldn't care less about water in Iraq. They started packing up and moving on just after these pics.
After my meeting I stopped by R!OT to take a few pics of "String Theory" on newly painted walls. They were so happy with the opening that they're going all out next Thursday night in celebration of the new exhibit of paintings by Dane LaChiusa. Check out Dane's Cafe Press offerings too.
What's up with the posts/pics? Haven't quite figured out how to line up text with the images. Bear with me. This may be technology but I'm an organic girl. Everything in its time.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
OK Harris and the light on the sidewalk
I seem to forget that OK Harris is right around the corner from where I work for months at a time. I typically love at least one of the several exhibitions on view there at a time and today was no exception.
Earl Bronsteen's "The Wall of Rejection Letters" was a welcome lift to my artist's sinking soul in the midst of working-to-earn-a-living week. I am juggling a few too many balls, and wishing desperately to be only playing with the art related ones.
But after a few moments of reading the rejection letters Bronsteen has amassed over the last 15 years, I was laughing outloud. And feeling far less serious about myself, and the world of art as a whole.
Bronsteen's story is also enlightening. He appears to have spent his life as an accountant, retired and found fame and fortune as a photographer, then switched to installation art. Despite the somewhat serious nature of his statements, the work is lighthearted in an amusing and refreshing way.
I found no websites of his installation work when I Googled him, but loads of links to his photographs for sale as posters. Then while writing this, I decided to type in www.earlbronsteen.com, and there you have it, the link above.
Far headier, but inspiring in quite a different way was Don Celender, In Memorium, a retrospective of conceptual art by the art history professor who spent 35 years "mining the gold vein of popular and not so popular opinions on the arts long before anyone else had even the glimmer of such an idea". Can I really still purchase a set of his art cards for only $35? Follow the link to the left of the landing page: Available Work For Sale By Exhibition Artists. I'm going to call Art Resources Transfer myself and find out!
On the way back to the office, I had my moment of zen. Stopped mid-stride by the light and shadow of a tree on the sidewalk pavement and building walls. Though I don't think I really captured the magic of it, this is an experience that haunts me with a strange kind of bliss. There is a moment in my childhood while at camp that is completely contained in the way the sun creates a dance of shadow and light through the leaves when they are blowing in the breeze.
As a final upnote, while surfing my favorite art blogs, I came across a link to Art on Paper's current issue, which is a must- read with its "Letters to a Young Artist". Doesn't matter what you do in life or what your age, the letters are golden.
Friday, July 8, 2005
a summer night in the rain
the house may be falling apart and our weekends anything but relaxing, yet a few minutes on the porch watching fireflies in the rain, drinking a glass of wine and dreaming, and life is magical again, even with the cars on route 82 speeding by.
Thursday's Art Jaunt
The more I blog, the more I feel like I'd love to be wired in every moment. By the time I sit down at the computer, a million things have happened and buzzed through my mind that I'd love to share. But for now, I'm back-tracking.
Yesterday for lunch, I took a walk over to Deitch Projects and The Drawing Center, two of my favorite stops for Soho art. They are always such a counterpoint to one another. One edgy, pop culture, the other new spins on a classic.
I have to say, I wasn't particularly blown away by either exhibition, as I often am at both places. Deitch for its over the top, in your face, screaming cut of the edge. The Drawing Center for its eye opening, turn everything on its head ideas about drawing.
Plus, so much has to do with my mood. I was really more in a shopping head. Which I did on the way back to work, with a stop at a Mata sample sale on Grand. (Can't find any links!) Way fun!
But I did love Zoe Keramea: Geometry of Paradox at The Drawing Center. It's the pic of the black objects on the wall, looking like there are little threads hanging down. I snapped that one off, just before being told that there was no picture taking allowed.
But that didn't stop me, once across the street at the main gallery from taking a shot of the telescope and holes cut out of the Drawing Center's walls, an overview of the floor drawing which covered the entire gallery space and two architectural pieces on the wall with gallery goers in the foreground. Plus an unexpected surprise of art on the ceiling. Please follow the link for info about artists and the work. This was one of those times that I didn't spend any time filling my brain, just looked, absorbed, appreciated, and went on my way.
You can probably tell for yourself that the Deitch installation is the one with cars and trucks on their sides, and what looks like taggers climbing the wall. They're taggers alright, not live ones, but they fooled me for an instant when I walked into the gallery through an opening that turned out to be a truck on it's side.
On my way to karate after work that night, I came across a lovely little art surprise on Sullivan Street north of Houston (I think). Someone had attached this small rendering of an outlet to a Sycamore tree. Trees are a life force, that's for sure. Unfortunately I think our use of electricity and petroleum are suckign the life out of the trees and the whole planet. Did the artist who put it there do so with that thought in mind, or just wishful thinking for an outdoor plug. Fun to wonder.
Yesterday for lunch, I took a walk over to Deitch Projects and The Drawing Center, two of my favorite stops for Soho art. They are always such a counterpoint to one another. One edgy, pop culture, the other new spins on a classic.
I have to say, I wasn't particularly blown away by either exhibition, as I often am at both places. Deitch for its over the top, in your face, screaming cut of the edge. The Drawing Center for its eye opening, turn everything on its head ideas about drawing.
Plus, so much has to do with my mood. I was really more in a shopping head. Which I did on the way back to work, with a stop at a Mata sample sale on Grand. (Can't find any links!) Way fun!
But I did love Zoe Keramea: Geometry of Paradox at The Drawing Center. It's the pic of the black objects on the wall, looking like there are little threads hanging down. I snapped that one off, just before being told that there was no picture taking allowed.
But that didn't stop me, once across the street at the main gallery from taking a shot of the telescope and holes cut out of the Drawing Center's walls, an overview of the floor drawing which covered the entire gallery space and two architectural pieces on the wall with gallery goers in the foreground. Plus an unexpected surprise of art on the ceiling. Please follow the link for info about artists and the work. This was one of those times that I didn't spend any time filling my brain, just looked, absorbed, appreciated, and went on my way.
You can probably tell for yourself that the Deitch installation is the one with cars and trucks on their sides, and what looks like taggers climbing the wall. They're taggers alright, not live ones, but they fooled me for an instant when I walked into the gallery through an opening that turned out to be a truck on it's side.
On my way to karate after work that night, I came across a lovely little art surprise on Sullivan Street north of Houston (I think). Someone had attached this small rendering of an outlet to a Sycamore tree. Trees are a life force, that's for sure. Unfortunately I think our use of electricity and petroleum are suckign the life out of the trees and the whole planet. Did the artist who put it there do so with that thought in mind, or just wishful thinking for an outdoor plug. Fun to wonder.
street art, deitch and the drawing center
Pics above from my Thursday lunch time art jaunt and walk to karate. Specifics on the way.
Om Gum Gunapatayai Namaha
I've been working with this mantra for the last month of so after reading Thomas Ashley-Farrand's Healing Mantras. It's a Ganesha mantra. Ganesh is the Hindu elephant god, remover of all obstacles.
I have come to believe that elephants are my totem animal. I've collected them since first recieving a stuffed elephant, which I still have, for my first birthday. And in a shamanic healing journey I did recently, an ancient elephant appeared with some important teachings.
But what I wanted to blog about this morning is the idea of obstacles. It's recommended that one begin by reciting the mantra for a period of 40 days. When I first began reciting this mantra, I wasn't really clear in my mind exactly what obstacles I was hoping to remove. I simply had the sense that because of the recent shamanic work I should honor Ganesh in some way, and this seemed the perfect way. As I've worked with the mantra a few things have become clear to me.
Obstacles are really a figment of our imaginations and perceptions. What appears to be an obstacle may actually be a path. And, that because we tend to view things as obstacles rather than opportunities we forget to see the many occurances that are free of obstruction, easily negotiated and flowing in our lives. It takes some practice, and I'm not doing particularly well at it, but a simple change of perspective, awareness, mindfulness about what's going well from day to day is a big eye opener. More goes right than wrong, even when it feels exactly the opposite.
The only real obstacle in our way is ourselves. I feel this day to day, as I contemplate exactly what is in my way. It often appears to be other people and events I can't control. But I am getting a stronger and stronger sense, that even if I can't actually identify how I am in my own way, or what I am doing that blockades me, my spiritual progress, my development as a human being in this lifetime -- the only thing I need pray for in the form of mantra is that the path to myself be open. Perhaps more specifically, the path to my heart. That my heart be free from obstacles. That my being be free from obstacles. That my life be expressed as an anti-obstacle.
Not even sure what that means exactly. It's my morning reverie. Still something to mull over.
I did some gallery going yesterday and will post pics and reactions in my next post. The obstacle to getting that accomplished in this exact moment, is the ultimate illusion: time.
I have come to believe that elephants are my totem animal. I've collected them since first recieving a stuffed elephant, which I still have, for my first birthday. And in a shamanic healing journey I did recently, an ancient elephant appeared with some important teachings.
But what I wanted to blog about this morning is the idea of obstacles. It's recommended that one begin by reciting the mantra for a period of 40 days. When I first began reciting this mantra, I wasn't really clear in my mind exactly what obstacles I was hoping to remove. I simply had the sense that because of the recent shamanic work I should honor Ganesh in some way, and this seemed the perfect way. As I've worked with the mantra a few things have become clear to me.
Obstacles are really a figment of our imaginations and perceptions. What appears to be an obstacle may actually be a path. And, that because we tend to view things as obstacles rather than opportunities we forget to see the many occurances that are free of obstruction, easily negotiated and flowing in our lives. It takes some practice, and I'm not doing particularly well at it, but a simple change of perspective, awareness, mindfulness about what's going well from day to day is a big eye opener. More goes right than wrong, even when it feels exactly the opposite.
The only real obstacle in our way is ourselves. I feel this day to day, as I contemplate exactly what is in my way. It often appears to be other people and events I can't control. But I am getting a stronger and stronger sense, that even if I can't actually identify how I am in my own way, or what I am doing that blockades me, my spiritual progress, my development as a human being in this lifetime -- the only thing I need pray for in the form of mantra is that the path to myself be open. Perhaps more specifically, the path to my heart. That my heart be free from obstacles. That my being be free from obstacles. That my life be expressed as an anti-obstacle.
Not even sure what that means exactly. It's my morning reverie. Still something to mull over.
I did some gallery going yesterday and will post pics and reactions in my next post. The obstacle to getting that accomplished in this exact moment, is the ultimate illusion: time.
Wednesday, July 6, 2005
Morning
As I lay in bed this morning, slowly awakening I drifted in and out of my mantra, and remembered the evening I went to see Ammachi and received her hug. For quite a few weeks it seemed I was embraced by her, and even more so, embraced by myself and the universe. One big hug inside and out. But like every moment, the vividness disapates with time, and now I struggle to embody that feeling. What occured to me this morning though was again the thought of practice.
Amma said that night, that our souls are like the puppy dogs who wait at home for us all day long, wagging their tales in anticipation of the 5 minutes we spend with them. I took this to heart and have been spending more time with my cat Simon on the weekends when I go home, brushing him and really sitting with him. Coincidentally, Simon has recently gone blind due to hypertension and he's been really needy for about a year now. He's over 15 years old, so he's getting up there in cat years. He's not going to be around that much longer, so every moment I spend with him is precious.
Likewise, for a time, I made an effort to embrace myself each morning when I woke, and each evening before I fell asleep, letting my thoughts also embrace my heart and opening my heart to embrace my being. I think it's time to reclaim this sacred practice. It takes but a few moments and goes a long way.
Amma said that night, that our souls are like the puppy dogs who wait at home for us all day long, wagging their tales in anticipation of the 5 minutes we spend with them. I took this to heart and have been spending more time with my cat Simon on the weekends when I go home, brushing him and really sitting with him. Coincidentally, Simon has recently gone blind due to hypertension and he's been really needy for about a year now. He's over 15 years old, so he's getting up there in cat years. He's not going to be around that much longer, so every moment I spend with him is precious.
Likewise, for a time, I made an effort to embrace myself each morning when I woke, and each evening before I fell asleep, letting my thoughts also embrace my heart and opening my heart to embrace my being. I think it's time to reclaim this sacred practice. It takes but a few moments and goes a long way.
Tuesday, July 5, 2005
Paths to God
I am reading The Upanishads, The Bhagavad Gita and Ram Dass' Paths To God, Living the Bhagavad Gita. As usual when I'm reading a few books at a time, I skip back and forth between them. Paths to God is based on a series of lectures RD gave at Naropa in 1974. With the lectures, he suggested some guidelines, one of which was to keep a journal of one's spiritual experiences during the course of reading and studying The Gita; another was to read the Gita a minimum of three times. I'm not sure my version will last the first reading. It's a vintage paperback that crumbles as I turn the pages and I love it all the more for that. But it occurred to me this evening as I was reading (and falling asleep between sentences, not out of boredom, but simple tiredness), that I might start my journal here in this blog. No better place.
Recently I've been practicing mantra in addition to chanting, although the last week has been so busy I realized I hadn't chanted; and even my mantra practice which had become 2nd nature, had fallen off. But...
on the subway home last week after a particularly annoying day at work, I had an amazing moment of clarity that can only be called enlightenment. For a split second I saw, knew and felt beyond any other knowledge that I have ever had, that it didn't matter. The events of the day, the slings and arrows of misfortune, the frustrations, the people -- none of it mattered, not a bit. Even now it is hard to put into words exactly the meaning, its expansiveness and its light. I can only say that for one moment I saw beyond the moment, beyond the day, beyond even my life to the infinity of existence in such a way that all was clear and content, peaceful and perfect.
Hum Sah as one of my yoga freinds at Omega would say. The sound of the breath going in and out according to the ancient yogis.
When life gets as busy as it has been for the last several weeks, it is difficult to keep up one's spiritual practices, pursuits. Living in that space requires a certain kind of dedication of course. Just like the dedication of getting myself to karate class three times a week in the evenings. But chanting and mantra, meditation and reading spiritual texts, then finding time for contemplation - this is a supreme challenge. I find myself not so much missing it when it slips out of my life, but missing it when I find it again. There is a longing, a sweet sadness, a fullness and emptiness at once.
The last several weeks I've been feeling like life is shit. No other way to put it really. It's just a question of perspective. Good things happen, and then seem ruined by not so pleasant happenings. Now, after an evening of chant and quiet, reflection and reading, something inside shifts. And once again I'm reminded that finding time everyday for these simple pursuits is not a luxury but a necessity.
Recently I've been practicing mantra in addition to chanting, although the last week has been so busy I realized I hadn't chanted; and even my mantra practice which had become 2nd nature, had fallen off. But...
on the subway home last week after a particularly annoying day at work, I had an amazing moment of clarity that can only be called enlightenment. For a split second I saw, knew and felt beyond any other knowledge that I have ever had, that it didn't matter. The events of the day, the slings and arrows of misfortune, the frustrations, the people -- none of it mattered, not a bit. Even now it is hard to put into words exactly the meaning, its expansiveness and its light. I can only say that for one moment I saw beyond the moment, beyond the day, beyond even my life to the infinity of existence in such a way that all was clear and content, peaceful and perfect.
Hum Sah as one of my yoga freinds at Omega would say. The sound of the breath going in and out according to the ancient yogis.
When life gets as busy as it has been for the last several weeks, it is difficult to keep up one's spiritual practices, pursuits. Living in that space requires a certain kind of dedication of course. Just like the dedication of getting myself to karate class three times a week in the evenings. But chanting and mantra, meditation and reading spiritual texts, then finding time for contemplation - this is a supreme challenge. I find myself not so much missing it when it slips out of my life, but missing it when I find it again. There is a longing, a sweet sadness, a fullness and emptiness at once.
The last several weeks I've been feeling like life is shit. No other way to put it really. It's just a question of perspective. Good things happen, and then seem ruined by not so pleasant happenings. Now, after an evening of chant and quiet, reflection and reading, something inside shifts. And once again I'm reminded that finding time everyday for these simple pursuits is not a luxury but a necessity.
The First MMF Gathering
Woo..the first MMF (Malaysia Magic Fellowship) members gathering in the history. This meeting was held on 12th June in Times Square Starbucks. It was indeed a fun and successful one..we've got 9 MMF (Malaysia Magic Fellowship) members showed up! None of us has met before..and only recognizing each other by nicknames. The jamming session was fantastic..cards, flourish, coin, rope, levitation..all
more pics
Was this really just last Thursday? Somehow I missed these two fotos from the opening when uploading last week. Found them while taking pics of my folks at dinner on Saturday night. That's Victor, a fellow karateka, and Gwen above.
Friday, July 1, 2005
just gushing
That's Gwen to the right setting up for the opening of String Theory at Riot. To be honest, I'm just gushing. I was completely overwhelmed with the sumptuous spread Riot put out for the evening. There was a great selection of wines and beer, a fabulous fruit and cheese platter, and the most amazing array of skewers. But even more dizzy-ing than the libations, was the reception of my work.
It was great to see and hear reactions to the individual pieces and the body of work as a whole. Great to be able to talk about something I've been working on for about 2 years, and finally see it all together, hanging on the walls, creating yet another experience, beyond that of its making.
Everyone at Riot was so receptive and genuinely appreciative of both the work and the opportunity to throw a bit of a bash. It was great to see an office environment in party mode. Something I think more offices should do more often. None of the tight lipped, zipped up personas one comes to expect. This was truly a group of people who work together, having a fun night out together, albeit within the walls of their customary work place. Even the guys who were working late to meet deadlines took some time to come out and play.
And I was having so much fun, I didn't really take as many photos as I'd hoped. So what's here is a combo of the installation views I took the day of set up, and the few snapshots Larry and I managed to pop off.
More about how blessed I feel about the whole experience, the people who came and other musings in a subsequent post. I'm feeling electrified, as I said to Larry when we came home last night. A bit like after black belt promotion. Everything leads up to these few hours, and then the energy is still in your body screaming to get out.
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