Archive for the 'Noteworthy' Category

The Spirit’s Sensual Doors

Published
by
Garnet David
on January 16, 2007
in Deep Thoughts, Noteworthy and Spirituality
. 10 Comments

I was about to scribble a post about the importance of sensing life with our bodies rather than our minds. I decided to first pop over to a blog or two. At Songs of Unforgetting, I found a post called “When Matter Matters” about a similar subject. Synchronicity.

For the past 6 weeks I’ve been having a major love “affair”. (Hence the lack of consistent posting here.) Though I’m not in a full time relationship with anyone else, this feels like an affair because our interactions are so passionate, so intimate and intense. It’s more than a fling, but it probably won’t lead to a long term relationship. Yet I feel a strong desire to meld our bodies together and become one physical entity.

There are so many subtle sensations going on in our bodies all the time. Acknowledging them can take time, often accomplishes little except the experience itself, and can become addictive for their primary nature. Though most religions disdain sensuality for its pitfalls, the sensuous stimulation of our bodies holds incredible treasures. True, those same desires can torture us with yearning when the stimulation ceases; they can rage into our conscious thoughts until we lose both mind and body trying to obtain an unfulfillable desire. But, like any other gift, there are two sides to how it may be used.

No matter how much philosophy or spirituality you study or apply in your life, you are primarily a sensual creature. Aldous Huxley hit the nail on the head with the title to his book, “The Doors of Perception”, the five “doors” being the senses. If someone exists sans any senses, they are not living. Spirituality cannot save someone who does not exist.

Taste brings us to the joy of food, or the disaster of gluttony. Smell stimulates deep memories and emotions, and is under-rated as a tool for living fully. I can sit outside during a breezy Summer day and experience dozens of smells. It accomplishes nothing, but fills out life. Hearing brings us to music, with its fountains of meaning and feeling. As a musician I sometimes forget how much my personality has been formed by the both the tearful drama of Puccini and the crystalline intellectual structures of Bach. (and each also has the attributes of the other; Puccini has structure and Bach has drama) For me, the timbre and intonation of someone’s voice can be as subtle and beautiful as music. Sight is primary to our existence. Besides its functional uses, it allows us to connect with the beauty of gardens, the power of art, the smile on a friend’s face. Touch is another under-appreciated tool for deepening our experience of the world. Sadly, most of us are touch starved. Descriptions of any of these will never replace their direct experience.

All five senses come together through intimate connections with another person. Taste, smell, sight, hearing and touch become vivid ties between our inner and outer selves. We can literally turn inside out and become defined by our interactions with the beloved. Naturally, this is playing with fire. Passionate intimacy is very, very addictive. Lives are often ruined over this kind of love. Yet it’s value is self-evident.

To the touch-starved person, skin to skin contact is like breathing air for the first time. The fire of touch cleans the soul, brings billions of cells to passionate awakening. It shows our bodies we are not alone. Different parts of the body hold different secrets. One of my favorites is the insides of joints: behind the knee, inside the elbow joint, behind the neck, inside the thighs.

The smells of the beloveds hair and skin imprints on the brain, never to be forgotten. Yet the memory of a smell is not enough. One cannot get enough fresh doses of the lover’s pheromone concoction. Again, the present moment expands to become whole countries of sensual delicacy. The vibrations of the lover’s cooing voice may unlock layers of stress and invite one to sink deeply into the present moment. Seeing the beloveds dreamy gray eyes, tomato red lips or wisps of nearly invisible hair on the earlobes is an exploration of uncharted worlds, territories which will one day fade into oblivion, yet which now careen perfectly into this reality through our own eyes, ears, nose. The salty taste of the other’s skin is unique recipe, yours to drink to satisfaction.

The goal of many spiritual practices is to overcome desire. Desire is dangerous if uncontrolled or unbalanced in one’s life. A monk may spend his life avoiding sensual attachment; yet, that solitary monk is sensually aware of his breathing, the air on his skin, them smells of the flowers nearby. We all occasionally succumb to the excesses of the senses. Should their potentially dangerous temptations make them off limits? Or should they be used as spiritual gifts, with great care and respect? I prefer the second choice.

The secret to balance is to avoid becoming attached to the pleasures of sensual stimulation. Detachment does not mean being cold or avoiding pleasure, just accepting that all this passes. Enjoy and let it pass.

Thinking Spiritually Outside the Self

Published
by
Garnet David
on January 11, 2007
in Buddhist Thinking, Healing, Noteworthy, Spirituality and Yoga Thinking
. 10 Comments

One of the most difficult aspects of spiritual thinking, (thinking which reaches beyond the small, petty self) is grasping how that self is an illusion.

The real Self, with a capital “S”, is the whole world, for our skin is only a thin membrane connecting our inner “self” with our outer “Self”. Yet most of us live our lives basing decisions on that small, illusory sense of lonely, separate, finite existence. No spiritual practice is worth anything without this important premise in its teaching.

For now, I would like to explore how this idea affects our thinking about world problems. We, myself included, tend to be satisfied with accomplishing the tasks set before us to achieve our daily goals, ideally to obtain and maintain health, security, community, career, relaxation and some kind of spiritual practice.

I don’t know about you, but I find myself worn out after doing what’s necessary to maintain my life. I don’t like to face too many new tasks, or at least not ones which seem altruistic, reaching for some “unobtainable” or far distant goal. Yet we have no choice but to commit any extra time and resources to alleviating issues such as hunger, disease, genocide, or extreme poverty.

Of course, there are really no specific consequences to ignoring this truth. We can live our lives, as many do, striving only to better ourselves, regardless of how it affects others. Nothing really bad will happen to us, except we will be ignoring our most precious gift, our compassion, our conscience. After long enough, we forget what it feels like to feel for others. We can rationalize that it was just meant to be that way. Tough cookies. Perhaps this is why religion is still useful in a way. It keeps people guessing as to what their punishment will be if they don’t at least try to act toward some altruistic ideas.

We cannot claim to live fully conscious and ignore those issues on a daily basis. That would mean living in denial, a kind of zombie trance, an illusion of happiness. There’s a hollowness to this kind of living. Often, we try to fill this “hollow leg” with more things, more food, more business, new improved living, even a kind of endless searching for a spiritual practice which “fits” us.

Ultimately, the answer is simple. Take daily time to feel and nourish the deep pain of admitting how others suffer. This could be in the form of prayer or contemplation. There are specific practices in Buddhism which offer a structured building of compassion, starting with sending compassionate, loving thoughts to those you love, then to those you don’t love, then to strangers you know, and on to all sentient beings. It’s very healing.

Then, give what you can financially. Be really honest with yourself. Do you need that new CD? Can you spare that money for someone more needy?

When reading Sam Harris’ book, The End of Faith, I was amazed to find out that secular societies, particularly those from Northern Europe, give by far the most generous support toward relieving the suffering known to exist in so much of the world. Food for thought.

I think, therefore…I think. I think?

Published
by
Garnet David
on November 1, 2006
in Buddhist Thinking, Deep Thoughts, Noteworthy and Yoga Thinking
. 12 Comments

The ThinkerIt sounds comical if you say it enough times, like the sound of a bag of beans or rice plopping on the counter: “Think!”.

In Buddhism or Yoga it may be called any number of things: “monkey mind” or “chattering mind”. I have a more personal pet name: “mental diarrhea”. It’s the constant psycho babble going on the the background of awareness. It follows like a parrot (or, in my case, several of them) sitting on your shoulder, commenting on everything, even about thinking.
Continue reading ‘I think, therefore…I think. I think?’

The Physicality of Spirit

Published
by
Garnet David
on July 24, 2006
in Noteworthy, Spirituality and Yoga Thinking
. 8 Comments

I was riding one of those advanced elliptical running machines at the gym yesterday when it dawned on me. As I strove find perfect balance within the complicated motions of the exercise, at one point I found the right rhythm and released into it and suddenly it became effortless. All parts of my body were working as a whole. My body felt like a gyroscope, one of those toys I loved as a child because it appeared to magically defy gravity. I was spinning in space, completely present physically. My mind was present and free within my body. Both body and mind were thinking, “Wow, this feels cool!”.

Gyroscope balanced on wine glassOur bodies are more naturally in the present than our minds by a long shot. All the sense organs are part of the body. We see more than we can register, but we hardly ever see without filtering and judging. The same goes with hearing. As we all know, smell is one of the most powerful senses, connecting directly with the deepest part of the brain. Our sense of touch is available from every inch of skin encasing us. Yet we register only the information from these senses when it suits us, serves us, or annoys us.

There is another sense, which Alexander called “kinesthetic” sense. It’s the feeling the body has of itself in space, especially as it moves. As mental animals, we are barely aware of ourselves kinesthetically. As you read this, notice your body. Feel your body in the chair. Feel the room with your body. (not your mind) There’s a lot of information there, but we don’t notice it most of the time, since we are thinking about what we’re doing, thinking about what we’re going to do, what we did yesterday, why we’re not happy, what would make us happier, and on and on. Rarely are we ever really present, in our bodies.

We are barely aware of the depth of sensing our bodies are capable of. We have tuned out for so long we have lost the synapses, the sensitivity to our physical presence. Meditation is a practice which allows us to begin to be present. But we can also learn to be aware all the time. I like to take walks as a meditation. I enjoy and notice the flow of my body as I walk. I notice my breathing and allow it to deepen. I allow my head to float up and forward, releasing and almost lifting my body up a bit, making movement freer. I notice the smells, sounds, sights and touches of the scenery as I pass within it. Yes, we are within our surroundings, part of it. It’s different than just noticing with the mind. It allows the body to sense its own weight and thickness within gravity, air, sounds, sights, smells.

The body is the gyroscope of the spirit. It is the instrument which senses and measures the universe. When balanced, it notices subtle changes in surrounding energy which the mind often fails to register. When poised and relaxed, the body can feel the great, deep humming of the divine, the infinite. As it becomes more tuned to the divine, the body hums sympathetically with the universal spirit, living lightly and effortlessly.

Garden of Growth, II

Published
by
Garnet David
on April 11, 2006
in Garden and Nature, Noteworthy and Poetry
. 8 Comments

Clivia, African Lily

Upon revisiting and revising this poem, I noticed how much its message applies to life in general. As I age and hopefully grow wiser, I am learning that letting go of habits is not only vital to happiness. It’s also vital to learning and to growing as a person. I’ve recently started studying Alexander Technique, which I will write about more soon. One of the basic lessons of the method is to let go of the tension in the neck and stay open in your awareness. This is harder to do than one might think. Alexander called it Primary Control. I like to think of it as Primary Flow. Let each second go as it happens. Repeat. Rather than creating a superficial life, this idea allows one to experience the richness of the moment much more deeply.

The seeds emerge naked from gray, rough soil,
though most will perish as grist of earth’s scheme.
Their compost holds kernels of mealy toil,
micro teams, tiny mules carrying molecule dreams.
This war marches on. The drama rolls fresh
with each rising and falling of seasonal flesh.

I used to gently cradle those leafy twigs,
pining within their rhythmical trance.
I fiddled and darted, lost and ready
to control that volume of verdant folly.
I toiled from dawn to dusk to cage this romance.
I staked stems, preened buds,
willed red berries on holly’s branches.
I beamed with delight at delphiniums blue night
but daily squished aphids with horrible fright.
Hinoki’s form would finally reach balance,
necessitating tragic hacking of nearby Hamamelis.
Trailing Nasturtium must ramble freely
over carefully chaotic, mossy patio.
Cardinal Richelieu finally gave up the ghost
after five uprootings to aptly pair
his wine purple rose with more heathen hosts.

I strove to capture kairos*, embed its seething flair.
This chimera dwindled with thousands of hours
of pushing days in a stubborn wheelbarrow,
driving my load to pattern and style this living
sculpture into rank and file soldiers of my lair.
Time ground me down with its meticulous power.

As I feared, things went wild. They flattened
and ruptured and cheated my rules.
The Lungwort blasted forth, had its own way
and colonized insouciantly with its spotted tribe.
Autumn Clematis scrambled over trellises
and basked in the sun, surveying the fool’s
game down below, laughing at all the fun.

Then, tough rubric knots let loose their tether
as my life became twinned by other urgent events.
Watching from afar, the garden seemed closer than before.
And Plumbago’s happy scurry beneath
pink Asters fence seemed their own private
dispute, their outcome to pass sentence.

Five years have passed since I relinquished power.
Ten years before that I clutched at this stream
while its crumbled message sifted through my fingers.
From my rough hubris sprouted this quiet lesson:
The constancy of change remains new for the ages.
I come away sage, having learned not to confuse
dreams of perfection with nature’s carnival muse.

*From Wikipedia- Kairos is an ancient Greek word meaning the "right or opportune moment". It is now used in theology to describe the qualitative form of time. In rhetoric kairos is "a passing instant when an opening appears which must be driven through with force if success is to be achieved." (E. C. White, Kaironomia p. 13)