Aaron and I went to the Denver Museum of Art. To examine how human beings preserve and honor the past is to experience a fascinating aspect of the Metal element. The building itself is a geometric set of wings of peculiarity, architectural refinement and unusual unique quality. The physical structure evokes in me feelings of austerity, over-the-top form, and gray sterility. The structure itself is lifeless, and imposing, yet beautiful in its shapes, lines, and unusual energetic qualities. If a person were like this structure, they would pride themselves on how different, unique, and special they are. How polished, refined, and simple they were in their self-created complexity. This person would be hollow and empty inside – a void – either filled with garbage or the highest quality treasures – yet on the outside the edifice would be imposing and oddly attractive.
Once inside, the scent of cleanliness and the energy of respectful silence and sterility hit me. Each exhibit hall provides slightly different scents of dust, age, chemicals, spiciness, and decay that would occur in the upper nostril. Some exhibits would add rancid notes of paint, framing chemicals and floor wax. High geometry and form composed each room. The museum showed its treasures against the empty gray walls of nothingness – showing once again that you must first have a void in order to contrast the essential. The walls were lifeless neutral tones, evoking nothing. This created the necessary contrast to highlight the true treasure.
Each exhibit hall had an individual patrolling the halls, enforcing correct behavior and decorum. Respect, stiffness, and importance were upheld by their very presence. The windows to the outside world were small and mostly artificial light filled these places. This place was protected, withdrawn and taken out of the outside world. It reminded me of a hermit who takes themselves out of the day to day world to worship at whatever alter they deem important.
When I entered into the room of Indian, Tibetan and Nepalese art I was overwhelmed with the spiritual energy of the pieces. The high quality of spiritual qi and meaning that was imbued into certain spiritual objects created in me an awe that brought tears to my eyes, stopped my mind and made me refine my thinking, purify it and lift it towards the ideal. This was the energy of Middle Palace, LU 1.
I stared one particular piece for quite some time. It was an ornate temple doorway. It was red, green, and gold. Inscribed with intricate designs it evoked in me imagination. How many souls had passed through those gates over the ages carrying with them ritual, intention, and the Ling spirit – spirit of spiritual potentiality. I was transported in their presence to another world. I felt how it is to be in the presence of a great preacher, or wise elder who’s words and story weaving transport you from day to day reality into the transcendent experience of the world.
I’m reminded of how it must feel to be breathless and what it feels like when you cannot use language to describe an emotion or state of being. Like the finger pointing at the moon, the Museum was otherworldly.
Lastly I stepped into the East Asian room showing Japanese art. I felt myself saying wow over and over again as I became present to the highest sense of refinement that the human hand can create. Each object and scroll contained within it such aesthetic perfection and flawlessness that being in the very presence of such high quality of qi made me feel energized with wonder and spirit. Each object was imbued with the qi and love of its maker. The higher the quality and refinement, the higher the qi the object contained. When our qi is brought in resonance with such objects, we cannot help but resonate and be moved by their power.
When I left the museum, I felt more alive, more purposeful, more loving and respectful of the beauty of people and their work. At the same time I was mournful for how unique my experience had been and how unfocused and uninspired the hardened faces of the people walking the streets seemed. Unfocused, uninspired, flat, and consumed with their thoughts, plans and to do lists. All my need for worldly things other than food and sleep were dissolved.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
1/25/11 – Skiing
I couldn’t sleep the night before my ski lesson. The anticipation of the day to come and the fear of falling and hurting myself had me awake. I watched the hours tick by as I finally caught two hours of sleep between 5 and 7. In the day to come I fell over and over again. I tried to listen to the instructor who kept saying to ‘relax’, ‘lean into the mountain’ and ‘less is more’. I struggled hard against the impulse to be in control of every muscle, every movement, and every emotion and feeling that arose. He said that in skiing we have to unlearn everything that seems natural. We want to brace against impact. When faced with gravity we want to fall backwards and push against it. Skiing is all about going into, giving into, and going through the fear and anxiety and leaning down into the mountain on each turn. Keep your head up, and never look down – in other words, face life with courage. I can feel the energetic difference between looking down in dread, or up with determination.
I felt dread looking down the mountain slope, my mind predicting scenarios of my impeding doom - crashing into a tree, or falling off the edge – or worse, getting onto a Black Diamond by mistake and rolling down the mountain, breaking every bone in my body. Despite these fears I felt courage rise up in me to get up after each fall and try, try again. I ignored the predictions of doom and simply focused my intention on the present. I was the slowest student in the bunch. I felt ok with that – I somehow knew I would be before we even got there. At one point, the ski instructor told me, that the more of a perfectionist, or control freak I am, the harder the learning will me for me. He said I must simply give into the mountain, and move in only subtle small ways – the mountain will amplify my movements. The sharper the action the greater the consequence. If I try to be perfect without reacting fluidly and organically to each circumstance, the mountain will teach me the lesson.
There was a passage that I would always accelerate at and had little control in stopping. I would be weary of it each time I would approach it. To me it was my KD 21, The Dark Gate. Instead of relaxing into it, my body would stiffen and become more aware, calculating and aware of the circumstances. My eyes would dart to and fro as my whole body would poise for a crash – fearing the absolute worst.
I spoke with my friend Judith later that day. She said that Skiing had helped her incredibly with her music career. By giving into the mountain and learning to let go of control and perfectionism, her music became more beautiful, more natural, free flowing, and heartfelt. I knew that I would instantly love this sport and I do. I am addicted. By the end of the second day I skied two 20-minute runs perfectly. I felt the movement of the mountain and the skis under me. As I gained speed, instead of panicking, I simply leaned into the curves and let the skis and snow do the rest. The snow is an incredible teacher and I am in awe of how much I have to learn about the free flow of qi and to play in the dance.
I went together to learn with my friend Aaron. He got it much quicker than me. We had five people in our group, and two had skied a little before. Aaron wanted to go on harder slopes to push himself. I was fully aware of my own limits and I didn’t want to graduate to a harder green slope until I had confidence with the ones I was on. I was aware of my limits and knew I would not be convinced otherwise. This was a rigidity and stubbornness born out of self-awareness. Perhaps I can call that a moment of personal wisdom.
The two students who skied before encouraged him and gave him peer pressure to join them. He decided to do it. He tried to get me to go. I stood my ground firmly, thanked him for the offer and told him I was quite happy where I was. When I met him at the bottom of the mountain after having taken the easy trail I found him shaken, hyperventilating with a dazed and blank look in his eyes as if he were reliving each moment. He said that he was done for the day and couldn’t imagine going up there again. He had several major wipeouts down a hill that tested him beyond his limits. I was reminded of KD 20, Through the Valley and then him sitting on the bench, experiencing Walking on the Verandah (KD 22).
Next time I go, I will once again resume on the bunny hills and test various turns, stops and techniques on a safe and slower slope. Once I amass enough skill, confidence and courage I will accelerate, move through and push myself to harder greens. As my Water adapts to new circumstances and new challenges, I will continue to learn the lessons of flowing with the Universe.
The people at Winter Park had a fascinating energy. Interacting with the snowboarders, skiers, and shopkeepers and waitresses there was an energy of self-confidence, ease and flow. It was clear to me that these people’s spirits and lives had been altered by snow sports and by the mountain in profound ways. Their very energy was reassuring and self-confident.
When asked about their lives and experience, they’d get a self-reflective inward look – not one of excitement over their lives as much as deep self-knowledge amassed through their experience. When they asked us about our experience they didn’t laugh, joke, or make light of our novice experience. They emanated an aura of reassuring respect. They’d share their knowledge and wisdom. We’d overhead people sharing their stories of the mountain – spectacular wipeouts, most dangerous encounters, and feats of incredible ability and skill that either amazed them, or seemed like old hat.
The words of the instructor struck me “Once you ski one slope with confidence, it will no longer be enough. You will want harder and harder hills. Before you know it, you’ll be paying $350 for a helicopter to take you and drop you on the peaks of a mountain because regular ski lifts just won’t be enough”.
To know oneself is to head into and through our fears. Are we self-aware of our potential, of our limits, of our capabilities? What personal mountains are we climbing in life? Where are we stopped? What fear blocks our progress? What are we practicing? All these questions about Mastery arose in me about Acupuncture, T’ai Chi, or anything else for that matter. I have a feeling that skiing will be a gateway to self-discovery like none other…
I felt dread looking down the mountain slope, my mind predicting scenarios of my impeding doom - crashing into a tree, or falling off the edge – or worse, getting onto a Black Diamond by mistake and rolling down the mountain, breaking every bone in my body. Despite these fears I felt courage rise up in me to get up after each fall and try, try again. I ignored the predictions of doom and simply focused my intention on the present. I was the slowest student in the bunch. I felt ok with that – I somehow knew I would be before we even got there. At one point, the ski instructor told me, that the more of a perfectionist, or control freak I am, the harder the learning will me for me. He said I must simply give into the mountain, and move in only subtle small ways – the mountain will amplify my movements. The sharper the action the greater the consequence. If I try to be perfect without reacting fluidly and organically to each circumstance, the mountain will teach me the lesson.
There was a passage that I would always accelerate at and had little control in stopping. I would be weary of it each time I would approach it. To me it was my KD 21, The Dark Gate. Instead of relaxing into it, my body would stiffen and become more aware, calculating and aware of the circumstances. My eyes would dart to and fro as my whole body would poise for a crash – fearing the absolute worst.
I spoke with my friend Judith later that day. She said that Skiing had helped her incredibly with her music career. By giving into the mountain and learning to let go of control and perfectionism, her music became more beautiful, more natural, free flowing, and heartfelt. I knew that I would instantly love this sport and I do. I am addicted. By the end of the second day I skied two 20-minute runs perfectly. I felt the movement of the mountain and the skis under me. As I gained speed, instead of panicking, I simply leaned into the curves and let the skis and snow do the rest. The snow is an incredible teacher and I am in awe of how much I have to learn about the free flow of qi and to play in the dance.
I went together to learn with my friend Aaron. He got it much quicker than me. We had five people in our group, and two had skied a little before. Aaron wanted to go on harder slopes to push himself. I was fully aware of my own limits and I didn’t want to graduate to a harder green slope until I had confidence with the ones I was on. I was aware of my limits and knew I would not be convinced otherwise. This was a rigidity and stubbornness born out of self-awareness. Perhaps I can call that a moment of personal wisdom.
The two students who skied before encouraged him and gave him peer pressure to join them. He decided to do it. He tried to get me to go. I stood my ground firmly, thanked him for the offer and told him I was quite happy where I was. When I met him at the bottom of the mountain after having taken the easy trail I found him shaken, hyperventilating with a dazed and blank look in his eyes as if he were reliving each moment. He said that he was done for the day and couldn’t imagine going up there again. He had several major wipeouts down a hill that tested him beyond his limits. I was reminded of KD 20, Through the Valley and then him sitting on the bench, experiencing Walking on the Verandah (KD 22).
Next time I go, I will once again resume on the bunny hills and test various turns, stops and techniques on a safe and slower slope. Once I amass enough skill, confidence and courage I will accelerate, move through and push myself to harder greens. As my Water adapts to new circumstances and new challenges, I will continue to learn the lessons of flowing with the Universe.
The people at Winter Park had a fascinating energy. Interacting with the snowboarders, skiers, and shopkeepers and waitresses there was an energy of self-confidence, ease and flow. It was clear to me that these people’s spirits and lives had been altered by snow sports and by the mountain in profound ways. Their very energy was reassuring and self-confident.
When asked about their lives and experience, they’d get a self-reflective inward look – not one of excitement over their lives as much as deep self-knowledge amassed through their experience. When they asked us about our experience they didn’t laugh, joke, or make light of our novice experience. They emanated an aura of reassuring respect. They’d share their knowledge and wisdom. We’d overhead people sharing their stories of the mountain – spectacular wipeouts, most dangerous encounters, and feats of incredible ability and skill that either amazed them, or seemed like old hat.
The words of the instructor struck me “Once you ski one slope with confidence, it will no longer be enough. You will want harder and harder hills. Before you know it, you’ll be paying $350 for a helicopter to take you and drop you on the peaks of a mountain because regular ski lifts just won’t be enough”.
To know oneself is to head into and through our fears. Are we self-aware of our potential, of our limits, of our capabilities? What personal mountains are we climbing in life? Where are we stopped? What fear blocks our progress? What are we practicing? All these questions about Mastery arose in me about Acupuncture, T’ai Chi, or anything else for that matter. I have a feeling that skiing will be a gateway to self-discovery like none other…
1/21/11 – Berthoud Pass
The road to Winter Park revealed the majestic snowy peaks of the mountains. The high winds were blowing the powder off the peaks and valleys into huge morphing castles of snow. These huge eddies created awesome sky monsters that traversed the highest parts of the world with their play. These vast elemental forces had me feel small and tiny in the presence of their awesome power. Their ease of movement showed me the play of the gods of this place – communing directly with the raw qi of the heavens. As I felt my car rocked by the blasts of winds and snows I felt so out of place in this cauldron of matter forming and dissolving - shapeless, powerful, dangerous, pure alchemy, pure magic. Only the pine forests stood as sentinels watching over the play of the gods – an army of witnesses.
When we’re overwhelmed by the forces of the world around us that seem to move in chaos and control we can seem powerless and awestruck by life in such a way that we feel insecure even being in the presence of people who move with such ferociousness in life. This gave me the feeling of being intimidated by a power greater than us. If we do not trust Heaven and Earth and are flung into life with an outlook of cowering before it, we truly can occur as powerless. These feelings remind me of BL 67, Extremity of Yin. Even in the most extreme of circumstances in life, we can reach for the depths of our reserves and connect with the mother element, Metal – to give us a connection with Heaven and a renewed trust in the Universe.
When we’re overwhelmed by the forces of the world around us that seem to move in chaos and control we can seem powerless and awestruck by life in such a way that we feel insecure even being in the presence of people who move with such ferociousness in life. This gave me the feeling of being intimidated by a power greater than us. If we do not trust Heaven and Earth and are flung into life with an outlook of cowering before it, we truly can occur as powerless. These feelings remind me of BL 67, Extremity of Yin. Even in the most extreme of circumstances in life, we can reach for the depths of our reserves and connect with the mother element, Metal – to give us a connection with Heaven and a renewed trust in the Universe.
1/13/10 – Ice Shelves of Idaho Springs
We’re passing by a creek and seeing the ice shelves formed over the riverbed. The ice rubble and breaks into thick spikes of crystals. Thick layers of frozen melt have hardened into over a foot of ice layers over the stream. The freeze has pushed the water higher – expanding it into structure. As the ice shelves move across the top they create various shapes like blocks of lava. This shows to me the complete illusive nature of the water element, its malleability, the ability to take on any form whatsoever when necessary – an endless sea of potential for any kind of being one can be. They shall remain this way if the circumstances (temperature) do not change. This speaks to me of the energy required to accommodate to any circumstance – to be the chameleon and adapt oneself to life’s circumstances rather than resisting it. This is yet another example of how water can flow freely in between states as needed. When the melt comes, the water will adapt itself again and again.
Another example of hanging on for dear life came when we rounded the bend and saw a crystalline ice sculpture waterfall – like a giant chandelier of layers upon layers of icicles which turned a running stream into a vertical sculpture. I can imagine each drop of water hanging on for dear life and becoming frozen in fear rather than dropping into the depths of the unknown river below.
If change comes to our lives and we’re frozen in our old skills, abilities, strong suits and fixed ways of being – we many never be able to adapt to the needs of the circumstances. If the ice never melted with changing circumstances, we would be stuck with the past, which would prevent us from progressing into the future. This evokes in me a feeling of stubbornness and fixity. The fear of change can prevent us from adaptation – it takes courage to change our shapes and to adapt but when we need to, we find that the strength of the human spirit is always accessible in the depths. This reminds me of KD 25, Spirit Storehouse – a sea of spiritual courage to enter life under any circumstance, and when we’re frozen in fear, points such as KD 7, Released Stream can release the grip we have on our reality and learn to once again go with the flow with confidence and courage.
Another example of hanging on for dear life came when we rounded the bend and saw a crystalline ice sculpture waterfall – like a giant chandelier of layers upon layers of icicles which turned a running stream into a vertical sculpture. I can imagine each drop of water hanging on for dear life and becoming frozen in fear rather than dropping into the depths of the unknown river below.
If change comes to our lives and we’re frozen in our old skills, abilities, strong suits and fixed ways of being – we many never be able to adapt to the needs of the circumstances. If the ice never melted with changing circumstances, we would be stuck with the past, which would prevent us from progressing into the future. This evokes in me a feeling of stubbornness and fixity. The fear of change can prevent us from adaptation – it takes courage to change our shapes and to adapt but when we need to, we find that the strength of the human spirit is always accessible in the depths. This reminds me of KD 25, Spirit Storehouse – a sea of spiritual courage to enter life under any circumstance, and when we’re frozen in fear, points such as KD 7, Released Stream can release the grip we have on our reality and learn to once again go with the flow with confidence and courage.
1/6/11 - Flagstaff Mountain Boy Scout Trail
The ponderosa pines smell like a warm gingerbread rotten rancid sawdust smell and the winds are howling around us in all directions. It doesn’t sound so much like a shout as a weeping wail. The wind has uncovered a fascinating ice formation. The frequent thaw and freeze that takes place atop this mountain created these crispy shelves of icy snow that crunch under foot. The powder has been blown off to reveal crevices and hardness to the water – some of its unknown revealed. No longer powdery and flaky but seemingly solid and therefore treacherous. You never know when it will crack. This snow has an energy of water that has repeatedly been frozen, and then melted enough to move just a bit before being stopped and frozen again. This stop and go quality reminds me of what uncertainty caused by anxiety over movement and flow in life might look like. With such uncertain progress, you cannot rely on any solidity or flow. It is flaky and unreliable. If life occurred to me this way, I’d be afraid to move forward in life and would be exhausted, or resigned.
The bark splinters and crackles as I peel it off the tree. It flakes off like dried layers of skin. Parched, no water, rigid, hard, hollow, lifeless and shallow in sound. As the sun hits the side of the pine tree, the odor is intensified - it is warmed and expands into the nose. The dry dead bark is given some momentary life as the warm acrid oils penetrate the upper nostril.
I saw a long-needled pine tree and I noticed that all of its needles were pointed up towards the heavens. Its linear, directed growth shooting in one direction. The tree creaked at me, laughing like an old crony. The laugh occurred as sarcasm – a pessimistic knowing of the futility of something – as if it is laughing at me judgmentally.
We passed four students walking to the Flatirons amphitheatre. They gave us a brisk and cold “hey” as if we were intruding upon their endeavor by our presence. One girl walked in pajamas and slippers amidst the snow, clutching at her wet and old fur-piped coat. The legs were blue and her feet bright red. She looked like she was freezing, yet she persevered with a hard and set jaw towards her destination – a look of determination and no glance in our direction. I felt dismissed and somewhat feared. After smelling the pot wafting off their jackets, I understood their paranoia.
As the sun sets behind the mountains, the shape of the mountain loomed over Boulder. The gray black shadow covered the plain with its darkness and grayness as the sunlight was consumed by the moving gray. The Yin became ominous and overbearing. The warmth faded from my heart and I began to worry about the impending dark. This feeling was reminiscent of the foreboding coldness that can set in after warmth of an encounter or a party ends. All parties must come to an end.
The sunset behind the mountains created a gradient in the eastern sky – from a rosy peach into a baby powder blue. The gentle meeting of fire and water – of yang being consumed or interchanged into yin. The shades of the sky were reminiscent of facial colors that I have seen. In the middle where the red and blue meet there is a ruddy purplish gray reminiscent of colors I have seen on Water CF clients. As I watched the sun set, the eastern gradient grew in width and the intensity as both colors changed to gray blue – the ash forming in the sky from the burning embers of the day.
The bark splinters and crackles as I peel it off the tree. It flakes off like dried layers of skin. Parched, no water, rigid, hard, hollow, lifeless and shallow in sound. As the sun hits the side of the pine tree, the odor is intensified - it is warmed and expands into the nose. The dry dead bark is given some momentary life as the warm acrid oils penetrate the upper nostril.
I saw a long-needled pine tree and I noticed that all of its needles were pointed up towards the heavens. Its linear, directed growth shooting in one direction. The tree creaked at me, laughing like an old crony. The laugh occurred as sarcasm – a pessimistic knowing of the futility of something – as if it is laughing at me judgmentally.
We passed four students walking to the Flatirons amphitheatre. They gave us a brisk and cold “hey” as if we were intruding upon their endeavor by our presence. One girl walked in pajamas and slippers amidst the snow, clutching at her wet and old fur-piped coat. The legs were blue and her feet bright red. She looked like she was freezing, yet she persevered with a hard and set jaw towards her destination – a look of determination and no glance in our direction. I felt dismissed and somewhat feared. After smelling the pot wafting off their jackets, I understood their paranoia.
As the sun sets behind the mountains, the shape of the mountain loomed over Boulder. The gray black shadow covered the plain with its darkness and grayness as the sunlight was consumed by the moving gray. The Yin became ominous and overbearing. The warmth faded from my heart and I began to worry about the impending dark. This feeling was reminiscent of the foreboding coldness that can set in after warmth of an encounter or a party ends. All parties must come to an end.
The sunset behind the mountains created a gradient in the eastern sky – from a rosy peach into a baby powder blue. The gentle meeting of fire and water – of yang being consumed or interchanged into yin. The shades of the sky were reminiscent of facial colors that I have seen. In the middle where the red and blue meet there is a ruddy purplish gray reminiscent of colors I have seen on Water CF clients. As I watched the sun set, the eastern gradient grew in width and the intensity as both colors changed to gray blue – the ash forming in the sky from the burning embers of the day.
12/28/10 – Russet Green
Back in Washington, DC I stayed with my parents. We went on a brisk walk around the housing development via the trails that wound around it. My mom always walks very briskly and with purpose, while my dad saunters – unless he’s with my mom – at which point he tries to keep up with her pace. On occasion their roles reverse as my father assumes the character of a fox, hunting his pray with his camera, while mom strolls leisurely, basking in the day.
Because I knew this particular walk was going to be more of a march of the troops storming the castle rather than a walk – I decided to concentrate on getting odors. Given my mom and I played by trying to outmaneuver and outrun eachother, by sprinting forward at unexpected times – dad ended up finishing the race as the march hares were tired from the revelry.
The predominant odor I got several times was a very strong putrid mixed with a rot of leaves. It was sharp and hit the nose in the far back and front of the nostrils and made me wince. It came from the stagnant catchment pools of runoff water that are built at various places around the housing development. Though these areas were mostly frozen over, the rotting of leaves and reeds was very present amidst the putridity.
Several other smells included dog manure, sharp metallic smell of snow and electrified air around power transformers. A smell of pumpkin pies in the distance. A wood fired stove, gasoline fumes, sharp oils of pine trees, dry warm oil and rancid smell of Christmas trees, burning plastic, and putrid smell of a skunk. A few others were a hard dark heavy smell of wet concrete and rotting leaves, old pine chips mixed with rotten fertilizer, and rotten bananas coming from a trashcan.
Because I knew this particular walk was going to be more of a march of the troops storming the castle rather than a walk – I decided to concentrate on getting odors. Given my mom and I played by trying to outmaneuver and outrun eachother, by sprinting forward at unexpected times – dad ended up finishing the race as the march hares were tired from the revelry.
The predominant odor I got several times was a very strong putrid mixed with a rot of leaves. It was sharp and hit the nose in the far back and front of the nostrils and made me wince. It came from the stagnant catchment pools of runoff water that are built at various places around the housing development. Though these areas were mostly frozen over, the rotting of leaves and reeds was very present amidst the putridity.
Several other smells included dog manure, sharp metallic smell of snow and electrified air around power transformers. A smell of pumpkin pies in the distance. A wood fired stove, gasoline fumes, sharp oils of pine trees, dry warm oil and rancid smell of Christmas trees, burning plastic, and putrid smell of a skunk. A few others were a hard dark heavy smell of wet concrete and rotting leaves, old pine chips mixed with rotten fertilizer, and rotten bananas coming from a trashcan.
12/22/10 – Church of Sounds
I went to Church with my grandparents. My grandmother and I do not speak German, and though my Grandfather does – he doesn’t have sufficient mastery to translate it as a sufficient speed to make the experience intelligible.
Instead, I was awash with sound. I closed my eyes and felt my ears punched with phrase after phrase of German beating against my ear drums. A distinct shout to the language itself made my experience of picking up actual sound that much more challenging. In the same way how it’s harder to pick out the 5 sounds in a dialect that is predominantly sing-songy (Southern Drawl) - the German language made it interesting to distinguish things other than Shout, which is associated with Wood.
I found it quite useful to have an absence of meaning. Since I didn't know the words, all I heard was sound. The wounded singing Earth sound of my grandfather’s German (who’s voice is similar to Bill Clinton’s singing moan) was quite distinct from the preacher’s warm joyful sing. These were very distinct from an unemotional droning Water shout, as well as full on punched and articulated consonants of a Wood. Lastly the bereaved and grieved weep of Metal came through quite strongly with many in the congregation.
Instead, I was awash with sound. I closed my eyes and felt my ears punched with phrase after phrase of German beating against my ear drums. A distinct shout to the language itself made my experience of picking up actual sound that much more challenging. In the same way how it’s harder to pick out the 5 sounds in a dialect that is predominantly sing-songy (Southern Drawl) - the German language made it interesting to distinguish things other than Shout, which is associated with Wood.
I found it quite useful to have an absence of meaning. Since I didn't know the words, all I heard was sound. The wounded singing Earth sound of my grandfather’s German (who’s voice is similar to Bill Clinton’s singing moan) was quite distinct from the preacher’s warm joyful sing. These were very distinct from an unemotional droning Water shout, as well as full on punched and articulated consonants of a Wood. Lastly the bereaved and grieved weep of Metal came through quite strongly with many in the congregation.
12/18/10 - Green People
I wondered if this was projection, an uncanny coincidence, or simply the force of critical mass and energetic convergence. The day I went by myself on the tram I saw the most amount of green on people’s faces than I had seen anywhere else: various shades from conifer green, to grass green, to lemon grass green, to lime, and various intermingling of yellows and whites. All I heard was the shout, directionality, and hardness of the German language spoken everywhere around me. With this sound and color I started perceiving the eyes of the green inhabitants as stern, pointed, direct, and in some cases, visibly angry. Even their smiles could not belie their eyes.
I started seeing the presence of the phrase that Germany is very well known for: “Ordnung” which is the German word for order, arrangement, organization, or system. The rules of this organization and order are generally unwritten but they define the very essence of part of German identity, work ethic and ideals. It is believed that ordnung generates a sense of peace, contentment, equality, and unity and binds people together towards a common purpose.
Everything here operates on time, is maintained on time, and can be relied upon. People perform their prescribed roles and stay in line. There is little time or room for complaining. I found this present in every role I found people doing. The people working in the shops carry the same sense of self-respect or esteem as the janitors, waitresses, tour guides, garbage collectors, train operators, or business men. Everyone has a role that is vital to the system working. I’d hate to see what would happen if someone decided to go against that system. I have a feeling that I already felt that – you’re simply ignored, swept past and shunned.
There is a strong energy of “this is just how things are done” that permeate the place and give you a sense that you have to observe and watch how it’s done, as no one will explain it to you.
I had a conversation with a American from Boston who’d lived in Heidelberg for 12 years. We met at a café and started talking. He clued me into a little about German politics. He said “The Germans have a great sense of organization, and are socialists in many ways. They want to make sure that everyone is taken care of. Because of this they create very complicated legislation. The biggest criticism that the German people have of their government is that they are overly cautious, over think every decision, are completely indecisive and stagnant”.
I found this a fascinating confirmation of the predominance of Wood Color, Sound, Odor, and Emotion (CSOE) I was getting from the City’s residents and the general energetics of this place in contrast to the Metal and Earth CSOE most present in Washington, DC.
I started seeing the presence of the phrase that Germany is very well known for: “Ordnung” which is the German word for order, arrangement, organization, or system. The rules of this organization and order are generally unwritten but they define the very essence of part of German identity, work ethic and ideals. It is believed that ordnung generates a sense of peace, contentment, equality, and unity and binds people together towards a common purpose.
Everything here operates on time, is maintained on time, and can be relied upon. People perform their prescribed roles and stay in line. There is little time or room for complaining. I found this present in every role I found people doing. The people working in the shops carry the same sense of self-respect or esteem as the janitors, waitresses, tour guides, garbage collectors, train operators, or business men. Everyone has a role that is vital to the system working. I’d hate to see what would happen if someone decided to go against that system. I have a feeling that I already felt that – you’re simply ignored, swept past and shunned.
There is a strong energy of “this is just how things are done” that permeate the place and give you a sense that you have to observe and watch how it’s done, as no one will explain it to you.
I had a conversation with a American from Boston who’d lived in Heidelberg for 12 years. We met at a café and started talking. He clued me into a little about German politics. He said “The Germans have a great sense of organization, and are socialists in many ways. They want to make sure that everyone is taken care of. Because of this they create very complicated legislation. The biggest criticism that the German people have of their government is that they are overly cautious, over think every decision, are completely indecisive and stagnant”.
I found this a fascinating confirmation of the predominance of Wood Color, Sound, Odor, and Emotion (CSOE) I was getting from the City’s residents and the general energetics of this place in contrast to the Metal and Earth CSOE most present in Washington, DC.
12/11/10 – Walking Through Heidelberg
Yesterday my granddad and I went to Heidelberg to walk the streets of old town. I got reminded again of the beauty of Europe, with its old churches, brick buildings and cobble stone streets. Riding the bus, the train and entering all the stores is an ultramodern and refined aesthetic experience, juxtaposed with ancient architecture and refined social decorum. The old world evokes a sense of class, refinement and old world values amidst the commercialism of Christmas and adverts for iPads and the latest fashions. Italian, German, French, and British tastes and fashions adorn the storefronts, and a very Bavarian scent of gingerbread cookies and pastries powdered to perfection delight all senses. The music is mostly in English and shopkeepers are heard conversing with tourists in German, French, and Italian as well as English around every corner.
There is a great sense of order and organization here. Everyone is performing their prescribed roles with a sense of purpose and mutual responsibility. I feel compelled to not tarry too much, but get my business done and move forward to the places where a little more respite is appropriate. There is a strong sense of Wood energy compelling forward motion and proper prescribed behavior. I felt like I was looked at with cold frustrated confusion as I walked on the wrong side of the pedestrian promenade against the orderly flow of traffic. If I were shopping at a stall, people beside or behind me had no problem pushing me slightly out of the way without a request, statement or apology in order to get what they wanted and I heard several exacerbated sighs while I was searching through my change. At one point one person simply stuck their arm past me and put their change on the table ahead of the me to pay for their object and walked off because he could not wait for me to get done. I felt pushed, shoved, and ignored – and yet nothing was personal and if I stopped anyone to engage in conversation I found them extremely helpful, warm, and welcoming.
The creativity of the German people is quite inspiring. Christmas kiosks popped up like mushrooms after the rain. Many offered a splendid array of pastries, cookies, cakes, and candy. Others offered hot spiced wine, while others grilled bratwurst and other unidentified meats. The smells of scorched flesh, and grilled buns filled the air. The sweetness of the gingerbread mixed with the cigarette smoke. Some shopkeepers sold intricate Christmas ornaments made out of needlework, wood, straw, glass, metal, paper and various other media – and everything only of the highest quality. Various stands with hand made sweaters and scarves followed stands with fine leather goods and stands with cheeses and wines. Opulence and refinement. I felt I wanted to delight in all the wares and behave with grace and decorum while doing so.
There is a great sense of order and organization here. Everyone is performing their prescribed roles with a sense of purpose and mutual responsibility. I feel compelled to not tarry too much, but get my business done and move forward to the places where a little more respite is appropriate. There is a strong sense of Wood energy compelling forward motion and proper prescribed behavior. I felt like I was looked at with cold frustrated confusion as I walked on the wrong side of the pedestrian promenade against the orderly flow of traffic. If I were shopping at a stall, people beside or behind me had no problem pushing me slightly out of the way without a request, statement or apology in order to get what they wanted and I heard several exacerbated sighs while I was searching through my change. At one point one person simply stuck their arm past me and put their change on the table ahead of the me to pay for their object and walked off because he could not wait for me to get done. I felt pushed, shoved, and ignored – and yet nothing was personal and if I stopped anyone to engage in conversation I found them extremely helpful, warm, and welcoming.
The creativity of the German people is quite inspiring. Christmas kiosks popped up like mushrooms after the rain. Many offered a splendid array of pastries, cookies, cakes, and candy. Others offered hot spiced wine, while others grilled bratwurst and other unidentified meats. The smells of scorched flesh, and grilled buns filled the air. The sweetness of the gingerbread mixed with the cigarette smoke. Some shopkeepers sold intricate Christmas ornaments made out of needlework, wood, straw, glass, metal, paper and various other media – and everything only of the highest quality. Various stands with hand made sweaters and scarves followed stands with fine leather goods and stands with cheeses and wines. Opulence and refinement. I felt I wanted to delight in all the wares and behave with grace and decorum while doing so.
12/7/11 – Sounds of Water…
The trails above Heidelberg, Germany are covered with over 4 inches of snow. The sun is shining. There’s a light breeze at about 2-3 miles an hour – blowing tufts of snow from the trees. The birds are squawking and the ravens are groaning in disapproval. As I walk and tread the snow, the groan of the snow beneath my feet crunches, and smushes down. It creates a heaviness to the sound. A persistence. A creaking. Water is as one with gravity - the great leveler. As the snow tufts plummet down, they reach the most yin place. Through the path of least resistance, and courage to leap, they keep falling. I feel like the energy is rushed – things are melting too quickly and there is trepidation. The stillness, calmness of Winter changes when suddenly there is so much movement. It’s slightly disconcerting.
There’s a smell of snow – a lightness, a coldness, a metallic quality. It pierces through the nose. The trees and the vineyards on these slopes rest under the blanket as the snow contemplates its changing nature and the flow that is in its near future. I hear the sound of snow melt running down the side of the road and falling into a chasm - a small little gurgle as if chattering into the depths as it drones on and on.
There is something wise to the brilliance of the crystals that hang everywhere. There is something very direct and brutal to the water element in its pointed icicles. The ground looks soft but you have no idea what lurks beneath. Icicles above, the unknown below – it evokes the feeling of impending treachery and the suspicion that comes with it.
The water reflects all of the colors of light as crystalline drops hang on all of the vines as far as the eye can see. The vines stand in rows, covered with white, brilliant crystals. I feel inspired as the sea of jewels sparkles in the sun highlighting the brilliance of water’s clarity. I see the smoke rising from a chimney as it dissipates into formlessness. The scent of bonfire permeates the air. It’s about 1oC. I’m walking along side the deer tracks. The quality of the size of the snow melt stream has changed, and so has its sound. It’s become light, frothy and playful. Really high pitched and joyful – like a small water fountain – but in its context here, it reveals its lack of depth, a shallowness and an impatience in its babbling conversation. Energetically it occurs childish, brash, immature, and naïve – completely unconcerned with anything.
The hue of the snow is graying blackish blue. In areas where it is white it reflects a light tone of the blue sky, and the areas where it is dark are shadowed by leaves and trees. It is blue and black – a deep color and highly contrasted. I see in winter the contrast, the clarity between the frosting of the trees and the darkness of their bark. In the strip of snow that runs on the west-facing side of the tree that runs right from the bottom to the top – only the west-facing side is covered. The remaining part of the tree is black. And the silhouettes of the trees create this beautiful contrast.
Water falling from the mountain amidst the rocks into the depths – sounds like many chattering voices, each with their own story. Can’t grasp or provide a definition to it – who’s voice is it? How many voices are there? Once again I’m reminded of Water’s mutable personality. Energetically I feel a confusion over which voice is speaking, who to listen to, who to trust and whether there is any identity to it at all.
I walk down the snowy path where only a deer walked before me many hours ago, perhaps before the snow stopped falling. The tracks are somewhat covered. I’m the only one that’s been here today. Today I must forge my own path and be a pioneer. This requires I stay alert to where the path may go and be careful in my step. Watchfulness is a quality of the Water element, which gives me new knowledge and skill at detecting how to navigate through this landscape. I’m reminded of KD 6, Illuminated Sea which illuminates our path in life and gives us confidence to know and take on what is before us if we lack clarify in our life.
There’s a smell of snow – a lightness, a coldness, a metallic quality. It pierces through the nose. The trees and the vineyards on these slopes rest under the blanket as the snow contemplates its changing nature and the flow that is in its near future. I hear the sound of snow melt running down the side of the road and falling into a chasm - a small little gurgle as if chattering into the depths as it drones on and on.
There is something wise to the brilliance of the crystals that hang everywhere. There is something very direct and brutal to the water element in its pointed icicles. The ground looks soft but you have no idea what lurks beneath. Icicles above, the unknown below – it evokes the feeling of impending treachery and the suspicion that comes with it.
The water reflects all of the colors of light as crystalline drops hang on all of the vines as far as the eye can see. The vines stand in rows, covered with white, brilliant crystals. I feel inspired as the sea of jewels sparkles in the sun highlighting the brilliance of water’s clarity. I see the smoke rising from a chimney as it dissipates into formlessness. The scent of bonfire permeates the air. It’s about 1oC. I’m walking along side the deer tracks. The quality of the size of the snow melt stream has changed, and so has its sound. It’s become light, frothy and playful. Really high pitched and joyful – like a small water fountain – but in its context here, it reveals its lack of depth, a shallowness and an impatience in its babbling conversation. Energetically it occurs childish, brash, immature, and naïve – completely unconcerned with anything.
The hue of the snow is graying blackish blue. In areas where it is white it reflects a light tone of the blue sky, and the areas where it is dark are shadowed by leaves and trees. It is blue and black – a deep color and highly contrasted. I see in winter the contrast, the clarity between the frosting of the trees and the darkness of their bark. In the strip of snow that runs on the west-facing side of the tree that runs right from the bottom to the top – only the west-facing side is covered. The remaining part of the tree is black. And the silhouettes of the trees create this beautiful contrast.
Water falling from the mountain amidst the rocks into the depths – sounds like many chattering voices, each with their own story. Can’t grasp or provide a definition to it – who’s voice is it? How many voices are there? Once again I’m reminded of Water’s mutable personality. Energetically I feel a confusion over which voice is speaking, who to listen to, who to trust and whether there is any identity to it at all.
I walk down the snowy path where only a deer walked before me many hours ago, perhaps before the snow stopped falling. The tracks are somewhat covered. I’m the only one that’s been here today. Today I must forge my own path and be a pioneer. This requires I stay alert to where the path may go and be careful in my step. Watchfulness is a quality of the Water element, which gives me new knowledge and skill at detecting how to navigate through this landscape. I’m reminded of KD 6, Illuminated Sea which illuminates our path in life and gives us confidence to know and take on what is before us if we lack clarify in our life.
12/1/10 – The City of Washington, DC
I’m walking to a café through a residential area of DC. The air is cool, and moist. It’s in the low 60s. This city has a certain unique scent to it that no other city has. I’m not quite sure what the specific combination is, but I know I’m in DC by this familiar odor: diesel fumes, moistness, rotting of leaves, motor oil, and the smell of the subway system, heated by pumped air and electrical energy of the railway cars. It carries with it an acrid watery sharpness. The breeze is blowing, and it’s slightly warm outside.
Puddles of water surround me. They splash up from the wheels of the cars and trucks which splatter their watery grime into the air and onto the sidewalks. The decaying leaves flurry up into the air in an eddy of an in breath, and settle back down as DC breathes back out.
The city is alive with rumbling sounds of car engines, and the screeching of metro trains on their tracks. There’s a familiar sound and scent of escalators. The scent of black motor grease carries its rich hydrocarbon scents of oils throughout the underground, and streets above. Energetically this place has a feeling of a higher purpose, and constant striving and hard work. The houses stand empty as their residents are busying themselves about government and corporate work as I walk on the fairly empty streets of a weekday morning in the district.
The guards around the Mall and Capitol stand wearing stern faces, concerned with their important duties. As I contrast the energy and the peoples of the District with the peoples of other places I have lived in the US, there is a sense of seriousness here that is not present in other places. The city itself is rather cold in its architecture, well organized, and sterile. Its streets are poorly looked after with potholes and trash rolling here and there. Its residents are either poor, resigned to their situation and angry about social injustice – or they are well paid, well dressed, perfectly quaffed, carrying brief cases and fighting for some form of justice. Then there’s the students and everyone in between. I feel a need to stiffen up here, put on airs of importance and seriousness and be ready to have a well-prepared, politically correct, non-incisive and well-articulated opinion. There is little time for frivolity – the stakes are too high. If you’re not doing something important, you need to get out of here. The city carries an air of arrogance, self-importance, determination, and disparagement of anyone who’s not doing something valuable and note-worthy. Cold, stern, polished, austere, good-intentioned, filled with fake promises, and rabid survivalist self-interest. It's the restaurant owners and bar keeps that keep the mood of this place somewhat regulated – they are almost a separate breed of individuals somehow uninvolved in the dirty work of solving the world’s problems but nourish and enable those that are concerned with such things to eat a meal and enjoy their 1 hour lunch breaks.
I stopped into a French café/restaurant. After sitting down I wanted to check to see if there were any classical concerns during the Christmas season I could go to. I asked the waitress if they had WiFi. I was given a resigned, judgmental and smug look and told “We do not. We like to think of ourselves as a place where you come in to relax and take a moment rather than continuing to do work”. Considering what I was intending to look up, I found the judgment and prohibition of the fun I wanted to find, rather ironic. Somewhat shocked, and feeling scolded, I simply thanked her and ordered a cup of soup.
When the residents party here, they drink hard and lose their stern masks to reveal repressed grief and anger as well as a joy and lightness that they could not express otherwise. The people that walk here walk fast and with a purpose – their shoulders like battering rams ready to break through the crowd.
The metro cars are stuffed like sardine cans and smell of a sharp rancid oil, fishy rotting fruit mixed with body odor, perfumes and a light smell of urine – in contrast to the New York subway which carries its own particular perfume. Bodies curl into themselves as people stand apart from each other in a “don’t touch me” and “don’t talk to me” stance – “I’ve had to deal with assholes all day, leave me alone”.
It’s hard to know what this place needs most - perhaps a mass unburial of the Spirit, or a touch of warmth to break down the seriousness. Mostly it could do well with a moment of silence, being brought into the present moment, and people authentically acknowledging each other’s thirsty spirits with loving and compassionate eyes.
Puddles of water surround me. They splash up from the wheels of the cars and trucks which splatter their watery grime into the air and onto the sidewalks. The decaying leaves flurry up into the air in an eddy of an in breath, and settle back down as DC breathes back out.
The city is alive with rumbling sounds of car engines, and the screeching of metro trains on their tracks. There’s a familiar sound and scent of escalators. The scent of black motor grease carries its rich hydrocarbon scents of oils throughout the underground, and streets above. Energetically this place has a feeling of a higher purpose, and constant striving and hard work. The houses stand empty as their residents are busying themselves about government and corporate work as I walk on the fairly empty streets of a weekday morning in the district.
The guards around the Mall and Capitol stand wearing stern faces, concerned with their important duties. As I contrast the energy and the peoples of the District with the peoples of other places I have lived in the US, there is a sense of seriousness here that is not present in other places. The city itself is rather cold in its architecture, well organized, and sterile. Its streets are poorly looked after with potholes and trash rolling here and there. Its residents are either poor, resigned to their situation and angry about social injustice – or they are well paid, well dressed, perfectly quaffed, carrying brief cases and fighting for some form of justice. Then there’s the students and everyone in between. I feel a need to stiffen up here, put on airs of importance and seriousness and be ready to have a well-prepared, politically correct, non-incisive and well-articulated opinion. There is little time for frivolity – the stakes are too high. If you’re not doing something important, you need to get out of here. The city carries an air of arrogance, self-importance, determination, and disparagement of anyone who’s not doing something valuable and note-worthy. Cold, stern, polished, austere, good-intentioned, filled with fake promises, and rabid survivalist self-interest. It's the restaurant owners and bar keeps that keep the mood of this place somewhat regulated – they are almost a separate breed of individuals somehow uninvolved in the dirty work of solving the world’s problems but nourish and enable those that are concerned with such things to eat a meal and enjoy their 1 hour lunch breaks.
I stopped into a French café/restaurant. After sitting down I wanted to check to see if there were any classical concerns during the Christmas season I could go to. I asked the waitress if they had WiFi. I was given a resigned, judgmental and smug look and told “We do not. We like to think of ourselves as a place where you come in to relax and take a moment rather than continuing to do work”. Considering what I was intending to look up, I found the judgment and prohibition of the fun I wanted to find, rather ironic. Somewhat shocked, and feeling scolded, I simply thanked her and ordered a cup of soup.
When the residents party here, they drink hard and lose their stern masks to reveal repressed grief and anger as well as a joy and lightness that they could not express otherwise. The people that walk here walk fast and with a purpose – their shoulders like battering rams ready to break through the crowd.
The metro cars are stuffed like sardine cans and smell of a sharp rancid oil, fishy rotting fruit mixed with body odor, perfumes and a light smell of urine – in contrast to the New York subway which carries its own particular perfume. Bodies curl into themselves as people stand apart from each other in a “don’t touch me” and “don’t talk to me” stance – “I’ve had to deal with assholes all day, leave me alone”.
It’s hard to know what this place needs most - perhaps a mass unburial of the Spirit, or a touch of warmth to break down the seriousness. Mostly it could do well with a moment of silence, being brought into the present moment, and people authentically acknowledging each other’s thirsty spirits with loving and compassionate eyes.
11/21/11 – The White Knight of Dream Canyon
Here in dream canyon, even the pine trees – the most metallic of trees that grow in the heights of the world shed their refuse. Their long straight pine needles litter the floor. The beautifully structured pine cones litter the forest in various shades of brown – some washed out and bleached out by the sun over time – a dead gray. The scents are warm like the weather. Slightly humid with a lovely bouquet of pine oil and dried grasses. It is really lovely and warming. The pine trees don’t need much. Their growth is very straightforward, dark and filled with minerals. They can exist up here while others cannot. Life can be a little more austere for the pine trees and they put up quite well. Energetically they leave me feeling hardened, self-reflective, imposing, rigid and unconcerned with what occurs around them, and not particularly friendly.
I came across a stone as I was walking along the path that shone brightly at me, reflecting the sun. I picked it up and examined it. No wonder the Lungs (Metal) are likened to the highest Minister and Chancellor to the Emperor. What became apparent to me is that metal reflects the sun – the heat of the Emperor. It reflects the very spirit of the sunlight – of goodness, joy and love back to the world – so that all are reminded to look to Heaven for the essence. For the Lungs to absorb the essence, they must be empty first and imbue no imprint of their own on what they take in. In the same way, this quartz rock doesn’t reflect its own light or brilliance. It is only in its selfless reflection of the emperor does it serve its purpose. Energetically this feels like pure love, brilliance, and selflessness – the complete giving of the self to a higher and most noble purpose. It’s beautiful, inspiring, touching and enlivening. The light casts the truth into every shadow, revealing its true essence. I’m reminded of the point LU 4, Valiant White, which reawakes in the spirit the essence of valor, purity, and radiance - the very riches of Heaven. The White Knight is impeccable to the core, carries a bright sharp blade that cuts through any veils of illusion and shines truth and light into the darkness. This point gives us the energy to carry on fighting the good fight for the highest good, selflessly and on behalf of the Emperor.
I came across a stone as I was walking along the path that shone brightly at me, reflecting the sun. I picked it up and examined it. No wonder the Lungs (Metal) are likened to the highest Minister and Chancellor to the Emperor. What became apparent to me is that metal reflects the sun – the heat of the Emperor. It reflects the very spirit of the sunlight – of goodness, joy and love back to the world – so that all are reminded to look to Heaven for the essence. For the Lungs to absorb the essence, they must be empty first and imbue no imprint of their own on what they take in. In the same way, this quartz rock doesn’t reflect its own light or brilliance. It is only in its selfless reflection of the emperor does it serve its purpose. Energetically this feels like pure love, brilliance, and selflessness – the complete giving of the self to a higher and most noble purpose. It’s beautiful, inspiring, touching and enlivening. The light casts the truth into every shadow, revealing its true essence. I’m reminded of the point LU 4, Valiant White, which reawakes in the spirit the essence of valor, purity, and radiance - the very riches of Heaven. The White Knight is impeccable to the core, carries a bright sharp blade that cuts through any veils of illusion and shines truth and light into the darkness. This point gives us the energy to carry on fighting the good fight for the highest good, selflessly and on behalf of the Emperor.
11/13/11 – Longing
In stark contrast to the refuse, this is also the most beautiful and amazing time of year for me. I love it in the fall. Ah the magnificence of the leaves and the preciousness, and the glory of them just warms my soul and makes me inspired in awe of the gorgeousness of colorful explosions - and in me develops this great longing, this great appreciation for the wonder around me. Because I know this is going to fade away, I want to hold onto it even more, and so I pine for it, long for it, seek it out.
This time of year I make my whole life, and orient myself around being in the fall. Every time I go out I wonder – is this going to be gone tomorrow? Can I soak in everything, can I take in everything, can I be inspired enough and hold onto it and live off of that inspiration, of off the wonder for a whole year till I see it again? If I were seeking this feeling my whole life I would surely always feel empty – living from one spiritual high to the next – never feeling fully connected to spirit and the world would always look heavy, uninspiring and gray. This reminds me of the point LU 2, Cloud Gate which makes an opening in the clouds that hover over and obscure our experience of Heavenly inspiration so that we can once again be inspired by the wonder and mystery of life.
Because it is so precious, this taking away of life, this final end, this final shout and hurrah of the spirit captivates my imagination and makes me crave more. Longing. It's a fascinating emotion. It is this pining, this drawing forth. Energetically, the whole body wants to move forward and up and quest to be filled. This time of year I want to take in deep breaths and feel the cold air in my lungs filled with the crackling, scortchy rot that is present. The scent here carries the dryness of the leaves, which show their scorchiness and acrid spiciness – and when wet, show their rotten moldiness.
At the same time as I take in the beauty I have disdain, pain, and rejection for what is left. The structures. The shells of former life of trees that just stand there – dead. There is a certain lack of any worth in them any more. They're dry and brittle kindling, brown and gray and lifeless. And when that is what surrounds our lives – when we perceive things to be dry and brittle and worthless all the time, we may have this form of disdain and sadness, and longing for what they once were, or what they could have been. I’m reminded of the point LU 8, Meridian Gutter which allows us to flush out preoccupation with the past, the lack of value of what’s present around us in order to make room for receiving inspiration and spirit back into our lives – or simply perceiving life as it truly is in the present.
I remember when I had to put down my cat of 18 years. I felt so connected to him and so in thanks and awe of his life while he lay there on the doctor’s table. I was in tears and disbelief that his life was coming to an end. Once the injection was given I felt his spirit moving slowly and more calmly through his body and suddenly he left, floated for a brief second or two in the room, and left. With his spirit leaving his body my tears stopped and there was nothing left to connect to or cry about – his spirit has been liberated. The body that lay on the table was no longer my cat and when I looked at his body I felt nothing at all for it. I found it odd – an object, worthless, growing cold.
This time of year I make my whole life, and orient myself around being in the fall. Every time I go out I wonder – is this going to be gone tomorrow? Can I soak in everything, can I take in everything, can I be inspired enough and hold onto it and live off of that inspiration, of off the wonder for a whole year till I see it again? If I were seeking this feeling my whole life I would surely always feel empty – living from one spiritual high to the next – never feeling fully connected to spirit and the world would always look heavy, uninspiring and gray. This reminds me of the point LU 2, Cloud Gate which makes an opening in the clouds that hover over and obscure our experience of Heavenly inspiration so that we can once again be inspired by the wonder and mystery of life.
Because it is so precious, this taking away of life, this final end, this final shout and hurrah of the spirit captivates my imagination and makes me crave more. Longing. It's a fascinating emotion. It is this pining, this drawing forth. Energetically, the whole body wants to move forward and up and quest to be filled. This time of year I want to take in deep breaths and feel the cold air in my lungs filled with the crackling, scortchy rot that is present. The scent here carries the dryness of the leaves, which show their scorchiness and acrid spiciness – and when wet, show their rotten moldiness.
At the same time as I take in the beauty I have disdain, pain, and rejection for what is left. The structures. The shells of former life of trees that just stand there – dead. There is a certain lack of any worth in them any more. They're dry and brittle kindling, brown and gray and lifeless. And when that is what surrounds our lives – when we perceive things to be dry and brittle and worthless all the time, we may have this form of disdain and sadness, and longing for what they once were, or what they could have been. I’m reminded of the point LU 8, Meridian Gutter which allows us to flush out preoccupation with the past, the lack of value of what’s present around us in order to make room for receiving inspiration and spirit back into our lives – or simply perceiving life as it truly is in the present.
I remember when I had to put down my cat of 18 years. I felt so connected to him and so in thanks and awe of his life while he lay there on the doctor’s table. I was in tears and disbelief that his life was coming to an end. Once the injection was given I felt his spirit moving slowly and more calmly through his body and suddenly he left, floated for a brief second or two in the room, and left. With his spirit leaving his body my tears stopped and there was nothing left to connect to or cry about – his spirit has been liberated. The body that lay on the table was no longer my cat and when I looked at his body I felt nothing at all for it. I found it odd – an object, worthless, growing cold.
11/7/10 – Boulder Creek Refuse
The season of Autumn looks absolutely shoddy. The dead brown leaves look dirty, disorganized, and messy. Disheveled, unkempt, mottled - everything looks just a little bit unpolished and filled with refuse. It’s as if nature doesn’t give a crap about how it looks to the everybody else. Who is there to look good for? It has no need for external adornment and will look shoddy and disheveled because the whole refinement process is going on internally. There’s a feeling of preoccupation with something hidden and mysterious that surrounds this season. There’s a something internal going on that has me feeling like its hard to connect to the energy through the external shell to actually get to the essence as the shell looks and feels so inert.
The trees and plants show no need to polish up for everybody else around them. In a way I’m left feeling like they don’t care about anything but their self-absorbed process. It shows a lack of respect for self-images and how they treat their body – the vehicle for the spirit. It’s as if the shell, the very vehicle is so marginalized that they stop caring about it. Their elevated inner self-worth allows them to neglect their appearance and interaction with others. This is perfectly appropriate in nature for an appropriately long fall – but if autumn never let go of its inner process to move into winter – this self-absorption would become pathological.
What nature indicates is that is doesn’t matter for nature what the exterior looks like, its just the structure, its just the shell, and yes it was the body that was inhabited by spirit and created life throughout the whole yearly cycle, but there comes a time when the body must be shed, and the spirit returns to its origin.
In the spring the body becomes full of life and invigorated – enjoying all of manifestation because it's the body that’s required in order to live in the world, to function in the world, to interact with the world and form new meaning and memories. It is more than just the vehicle. It is the spirit incarnate – spirit moving out into the world, rather than moving within. But if we lived constantly in autumn, constantly in death, in decay – so that our houses decay, our relationships decay, our thoughts are self-absorbed or focused on the past – we create no opening for something new to be created. When I look at how disheveled this place is – I get an internal feeling of disgust with the clutter and dirtiness. If that is what I saw around me all the time, I’d never find anything to delight in, in life. This reminds me of the point LI 20, Welcome Fragrance, which allows me to see the essential beauty and once again recognize and take in essence rather than seeing only the worthlessness or lack of value around me.
The trees and plants show no need to polish up for everybody else around them. In a way I’m left feeling like they don’t care about anything but their self-absorbed process. It shows a lack of respect for self-images and how they treat their body – the vehicle for the spirit. It’s as if the shell, the very vehicle is so marginalized that they stop caring about it. Their elevated inner self-worth allows them to neglect their appearance and interaction with others. This is perfectly appropriate in nature for an appropriately long fall – but if autumn never let go of its inner process to move into winter – this self-absorption would become pathological.
What nature indicates is that is doesn’t matter for nature what the exterior looks like, its just the structure, its just the shell, and yes it was the body that was inhabited by spirit and created life throughout the whole yearly cycle, but there comes a time when the body must be shed, and the spirit returns to its origin.
In the spring the body becomes full of life and invigorated – enjoying all of manifestation because it's the body that’s required in order to live in the world, to function in the world, to interact with the world and form new meaning and memories. It is more than just the vehicle. It is the spirit incarnate – spirit moving out into the world, rather than moving within. But if we lived constantly in autumn, constantly in death, in decay – so that our houses decay, our relationships decay, our thoughts are self-absorbed or focused on the past – we create no opening for something new to be created. When I look at how disheveled this place is – I get an internal feeling of disgust with the clutter and dirtiness. If that is what I saw around me all the time, I’d never find anything to delight in, in life. This reminds me of the point LI 20, Welcome Fragrance, which allows me to see the essential beauty and once again recognize and take in essence rather than seeing only the worthlessness or lack of value around me.
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