Recent Travels pt. 4 - Sikkim

Recent Travels pt. 5 - Sikkim

Hedonism

If I could fill my days with all of my favorite things, what would become of me? First and foremost I think music and dance should happen, in one form or another, as much as possible. There isn’t really a need to force the issue—what’s important is the opportunity and means available to do it when so inspired. Likewise, it’s nice to have art supplies handy so I can exercise my visual senses and witness beautiful designs. Good food is a must, organic and fresh—I like the food I’ve grown the best, not so much out of pride, but because I watched it grow from birth and feel connected to it. On that note, water, loads of water, enough so there’s always plenty to drink and preferably from a spring. My family, albeit in much smaller doses, but equally as accessible, especially my nieces and nephew (when they’re not cranky). A yoga mat. Funny how this one was overlooked, even though ideally I can practice anytime I want to (and perhaps take for granted that I have the time to do it everyday should I so choose). I love yoga, it is the root of all of this. Healing—I’d like to do this every day, as well as playing outside with my dog. Time in the sun, the wind, the woods, and under the stars. Time to stick my feet in the ground and just be. Swimming. Cooking. Dancing again—it keeps the spirit moving. Friends, particularly other dancers—it’s as if we exist in another dimension. Our communion is effortless, as it is with some of my musician friends (because they’re dancing on the inside). Love. I haven’t had enough of this, intimate love that is. But thinking of this makes me sad, so why should I go there? Love. For life. Filling the heart, brings joy right back, feet in the Earth, breathing. Breathing. Writing—so good for the soul. Allowing positivity to flow any way that it wants. Being free and motivated. A space to be free and motivated.

Oh yeah, and frequent massages.

Dancing and the Luminous Sea

Over the last few months I've been extremely fortunate to have integrated a regular dance "practice" into my general routine, which isn't structured down to the minute but does include a minimum amount of physical activity, art-making, work, writing, yoga, meditation, music, time in nature, time spent talking, etc., throughout the course of a week. I've been dancing sporadically for over ten years now and have subsequently developed my own style, drawing moves from other dancers I've admired at gatherings, though I've never taken a formal or traditional dance class. In this sense, my movement has evolved from within and is essentially an exercise in raising my energy level while exploring my luminous sphere (i.e., the space extending all around the axis of my physical body--see Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man"). I do this by becoming the sphere itself--my body is the engine, so I work it like a wheel or piston, maintaining a certain rate of locomotion by bouncing from foot to foot in time with the rhythm. Meanwhile, I move my hands gracefully through the space around me, below me, above me, sometimes creating symmetry, and at others simply allowing my fingers to guide me. The feeling is most similar to swimming, actually, as it's as if I'm treading, expanding and contracting through an infinite sea of energy. Recognizing that the sea is in a constant state of flux brings awareness to my own fluidity, like an orb floating through a clear void, separate from the whole, yet composed of it entirely. My aim is simply to remember this and to stay with the breath as a means of cleaning it out.

In the past I traveled across the globe looking for parties where the music didn't stop, where the vibe was positive and celebratory, the greater sea passive in demeanor yet ecstatic in motion. Oddly, this scenario has consistently been difficult to locate. All too often people use dance as a means of escape rather than as a form of prayer, and with this comes the pitfalls of dark clubs and synthetically-driven raves. Don't get me wrong, I learned how to move in these places, but at some point began to wonder why I had to go out at 4 A.M. to dance. Furthermore, since the "clean" events are so rare, I learned that I needed to dance for hours on end, working my body into utter exhaustion, never knowing when I'd have another opportunity to get down.

This Fall I've discovered (with the aid of a great teacher) that an hour a day, three times a week, is better than ten hours every-so-often. My body stays ripe and I'm able to achieve the same states of bliss just by diving into the movements. As the practice has become regular, I've found that my connection to the luminous sea has been strengthened, and with that has come a greater awareness of how to swim within it. Furthermore, I've noticed a direct correlation between hyperactivity and one's ability to relax more fully. In other words, the more kinetic energy we work through us, the more equipped we are to dance without moving a muscle.

Rebirth, 2008

Balancing Act

I often make a point of going outside to a quiet spot in or on the edge of the woods and listening. I imagine my feet sinking into the Earth (which is tough when wearing big snow boots) and roots growing down from my soles into the core. I stay focused on my breath which helps to transport "my" energy (which isn't really mine at all) and at some point I can feel my feet (and the space beneath my feet) pulsing, as if there are indeed lines connecting me to the giant sphere we're riding. A unique and utterly pleasant warmth flows up through me and on this night, one of the coldest of the year, shifts my attention to the clear black sky flooded with stars. Ironically, for those of us in the northern hemisphere, the Earth is now at its closest point to the sun. In sixth months it will only be slightly further away, but it will have tilted in the opposite direction causing our entire environment to completely change. A foot of snow and freezing winds will be replaced by intense heat and abundant growth. Granted we humans wouldn't have evolved if not for this cycle, is there a more spectacular miracle than the balancing act pulled off by our planet in relation to perhaps our greatest source of power?

So as I stand and listen from the center of the world (having bought into the philosophy that the entire Universe exists within our own heart), the Earth talks to me. Sometimes the trees creek and crack, occasionally the wind howls, but usually the whole place just breathes. By breathing with it, we merge into one, at which point the Universe becomes as vast as one's imagination. At these moments I recognize myself as a satellite--a tiny planet spinning on an axis supported by the larger planet--and know that the only thing there is for me to do is to stay attuned and work on my own sense of balance.

Eli and the Hungry Ghost

Exactly this time last year I reunited with my friend Eli under peculiar circumstances.

In October my friend Paul had introduced me to Hungry Ghost granola during a hike, and I was hooked. He told me that the Hungry Ghost, a small bakery in Northampton, MA, also had the "best bread [he'd] ever had" and that he couldn't even make it home without eating half the loaf. Apparently it had been around for a few years and I'd driven right past it a number of times, but this was my first news of the hidden gem. Paul gave me a flier that lists what breads they make on certain days, and I stuck it in my wallet where it remained.

The previous Winter I'd traveled to Israel and Egypt, befriending a unique fellow named Eli Winograd, who I roomed with for a few weeks. Our friendship was, in retrospect, extremely special as we seemed to connect in a way that I don't often encounter. We listened to each other, attentively, with virtually every fiber of our being. In this way we became a unit, almost like a yin-yang. Soulmates. We improvised musically, never grew tired of one another, and seemed to harmonize every time we hung out. A beautiful guy, sadly we lost touch following our return to the States.

A week before Christmas I received an email from Eli's sister, Rachel, in which she divulged to me that Eli had in fact been living in Northampton--I couldn't believe that we'd been so close all along (I was spending more and more time in the Berkshires). I got his phone number and called him up immediately. He said that he'd been in town since April, playing music and working at a bakery...

Whirling & OMming

When I got home from the gym I took the dog out and, with him secured in his run, began to "whirl," like the Whirling Dervishes. The Dervishes, of the Sufi tradition born in Turkey, perform ritualistic dances in which they twirl their bodies by pivoting on one foot and swinging the other around one step per rotation. Meanwhile, they extend both arms outward from the body at approximately 90 degrees, leaving the right palm facing up so as to absorb Divine Light and the left palm down to offer healing to the world.

A few weeks ago I spontaneously began to practice this and immediately recognized its unique benefits, as it proved a valuable exercise in balance incorporating concentration on breathe, body, and mind. Initially, I'm amazed at the amount of awareness that whirling demands I place on my individual limbs, muscles, appendages and spherical space in general. I concentrate on creating a point on the earth and spinning on an axis, while breathing into the areas in my mind/body awareness or "energy body." Occasionally, sensations will develop beyond my physical body, and I breathe into these as well as if they're just as much a part of my being as those arising within my body. Bringing awareness to these areas helps to release tension and open them up, as they're essentially channels for energy that have become blocked with one stress or another. My upper arms take the worst of it, my feet come alive as if walking a tightrope, I move at a pace on the edge of dizziness, and I can feel a current running through both palms.

It makes me want to tune-in to the planet and give thanks.

OMming is another great stress reliever, allowing us to exercise our vocal chords, throat muscles, diaphragm, heart, belly, and basically anywhere else you choose to place your mind when you do it. I like to OM a few times into various body parts and organs, letting them fill with the vibration of the frequency of the Universe.

In these ways we allow ourselves to grow, as Nature grows a tree.

Here's my friend Paul with an American Ginseng root, which he says grows as potent here in the Berkshires as anywhere in North America.