Monday, July 23, 2007

...but you can't go back.

The morning I was leaving the Zendo at Haiku in 1978, a senior student advised me to say goodbye to our roshi.

I surprised him in his quarters, while he was putting on his robes and he did a magnificent kind of bullfighter’s twist to swirl the robe around him and tie the sash, dismissing my embarrassment at catching him in his underwear.

“I hear you are leaving today,” he said, “what are your plans?”

I was completely broke and had nothing other than my backpack, my guitar and a return ticket to Honolulu but I didn’t reveal my predicament.

“I guess I am going to continue playing my guitar,” I replied. I had been in this kind of a position more than a few times; I was young and full of energy and avoided my uncertain future by not trying to look into it.

His parting words to me were: “Remember…you can surf to the left, and you can surf to the right…180 degrees…but you can’t go back.”

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Dream Dancing & Healing

I had another beautiful healing dream in the wee hours.

Karen and I were living in a big, old wood frame house and Paul Reps had come to visit us. For some reason, I didn’t come to meet him right away, as I was dressed in a business suit and at the same time still in bed in another room. I hoped he would not be offended when I finally appeared, but when I did, I saw that he too had been sleeping.

He came out of the room where he had been resting into a spacious living room where about a dozen people had already gathered to meet him. I didn’t recognize any of them, and in the next few minutes, the waiting group grew in size to a small crowd. Reps commented that these were his brothers and sisters of the various faiths and religions, but it seemed that the greater majority were of the Jewish faith as I could tell by the turn of the clothing they wore.

Many were dressed in the garb of religious students, like in the Barbara Streisand movie "Yentl".

No sooner had Reps started speaking than a great swell of emotion rose in the group and they began to move into a circle to begin singing and dancing. It happened so suddenly that at first it seemed awkward or out place but as the group formed into two concentric circles, dancing in opposite directions and I was swept into the movement it seemed the most natural and beautiful thing. Then all the dancing gradually stopped and the crowd went silent.

It became apparent that another type of dancing was now taking place, an erotic one, danced by rotund, nearly nude pink cartoon women. There were some cries of outrage and many in the group seemed offended. Others countered with “No, this is not pornography, it is art.” But the women in the group were not buying it.

Then a young woman, very plain and proper looking dressed in almost Amish garb, came over to me and took my hand, asking me to dance. I was confused but accepted and we were the only two dancing in the now deserted circle that had been filled moments before. And what a dancer she was!

She let me lead but spun and twirled and made me look as though I knew what I was doing. I began to lose my self-consciousness and started to experience a kind of euphoria to be in the presence of this way of praising and celebrating life.

I woke feeling relaxed, healed, joyful and completely at peace.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Thanks to the Angels

The angels continue to watch over me.

Yesterday on my usual visit to IGA for lunch, I was waiting to cross the street at Burrard and Robson. The folks in the curbside crowd were chatting and not paying attention so when I saw the walk sign and nobody moved, I stepped out into the street.

There was an enormous, deafening screech of brakes to my left, and a collective “oooohhh” from the crowd behind me. The car had stopped a couple of inches from me, and a harried and very nervous looking woman sat behind the wheel, her hand to her head, avoiding my eyes.

I felt a strange instant mixture of indignation and anger, and I could feel the heat of the crowd focused on her as well. She had run a red light in her rush to get across before the crowd. But instead of giving her the finger or swearing, (and I was surely feeling the urge to react in some way), I gave her a thumbs up and proceeded.

As I walked away still shaken, I was not sure what confused mix of emotions prompted me to do that.

In retrospect, I guess her hitting the brakes in an exquisitely timely fashion deserved that. I don’t think she was looking though.

I could have been a dead man in seconds. I immediately thanked my angels, and said a short prayer as I walked on.

This kind of close call has happened to me far too many times to count. It was another wake up call for me to be more mindful and alert, and not to take anything for granted.

One never knows what's waiting just around the corner.

Thanks yet again, angels!

Sunday, July 08, 2007

A Peaceful Sunday Morning

It is a peaceful Sunday morning, and I am almost ready to leave for work.

I have been getting up about an hour earlier in the mornings, so that I have more time to do my own thing before heading off to my day job.

I began this morning with a prayer of thanks for the quiet silence that surrounds me today, after a hectic two or three weeks of domestic roller coaster riding.

Family problems . . . they sometimes seem never ending!

But a couple of days ago the penny dropped (as it has on other occasions and at other times) and I asked myself, "What about you? What is your relationship with yourself these days? Never mind everybody else's problems. Are you happy?"

The answer at that moment was "No, I am not happy. I am stressed."

"Well then, get happy", I told myself! (Somewhere in the far distance, Stevie Wonder's singing "Have a little talk with God...")

I guess I must have listened.

My thoughts are clear this morning.

I can hear my computer breathing, the click of the keyboard as I key in these words, and there is no peripheral background noise distracting me physically or mentally.

I love days like this!

Here's to many more!

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Just Call Me Ulysses...

The July long weekend is over, the sun has found its way through the rainforest cloud cover and we seem to be getting our first real taste of summer.

My two days off were fairly relaxing. I visited a family member who is recuperating in St. Paul’s Hospital and who seems to be doing nicely.

I tried to visit my own doctor too, but wound up waiting nearly an hour in front of a locked office door, along with a horde of other confused patients.

As pre-arranged, my son Ky showed up there to meet me and through the technical wizardry of a cell phone solved the problem for us all. There had been some scheduling mess up, and now we all knew that the doctor would not be in that day.

On my 2nd day off, I was luckier. My doctor was there and after checking blood pressure advised, “It’s almost normal, I can live with it for now.” And he wrote out another mysterious pink Sanskrit message to the Pharmacist, re-ordering 50 more 10mg Plendil tablets for me and telling me that I could wait a month this time until my next visit.

He also removed a huge blockage from my right ear using what appeared to be miniature inquisition torture instruments, which had me squirming in pain for a few moments until he extracted the wax logjam. Then out came the familiar metal syringe filled with tepid water and he flushed out even more stuff from both ears.

I have had to have this done once every couple of years for quite a few now…but until now, never the tongs!

My hearing now restored to pristine levels of clarity, I made my way down to the seawall to enjoy the blistering sun and the play of diamond light over the water. I wasn't wearing sunscreen though, and the unfiltered rays on my skin at the back of my neck soon cut my walk short.

Afterwards I wandered into the computer shop at London Drugs and imagined myself purchasing a new DVD burner, a 19” flat screen monitor, a new suite of MS Office, a new keyboard, and a 7 mega pixel digital camera.

Then I shuffled back out into the street, empty handed but very satisfied with my imaginary purchases.

Now . . . what's next?

Just call me Ulysses . . . (a nod to James Joyce)!