the blue bowl

20/11/2010

Does this happen to you, or is it only me? When I acquire a new material possession, for a few weeks it has the status of a “new toy”. During this period, I am overly possessive towards the object. It doesn’t much matter whether it is something large and expensive, a new car say, or something small and cheap, like the blue bowl in the picture.

I bought the blue bowl about eighteen months ago, prior to going walkabout in Italy and Greece in 2009. For three months or so, I was walking and, for the most part, sleeping out in my little bivouac tent. I used the blue bowl for dipping bread in olive oil, my staple diet during the period. I noticed that I had an attachment to the bowl. If, for a moment, I couldn’t find the bowl, I was worried that I might have lost it.

After some weeks though, this sort of attachment seems to wear off, and I am relaxed about the possibility of being without the object. I could easily give it away or even throw it away if it becomes a burden. The possibility of losing the object is no longer of any concern. It no more has the feeling of a new toy.

There is a third stage which can come in relationship to an object, though. This does not always happen, only with some things: After some time, usually at least a year, a different sort of attachment begins to come into being. This is the feeling of an “old friend”. This is a warmer, softer, deeper attachment than the “new toy” feeling.

Drinking chai from the blue bowl, here on the beach, I realise it is so with the bowl. I have shared enough adventures with it, in enough exotic locations, that it has become an old friend. I would be sad to lose the bowl. I could give it away but in doing so, I would be giving a treasured item to someone who I feel would appreciate it.

Perhaps you laugh at my attachment, to a cheap, mass produced blue bowl. Is it only me? Or does this sort of thing happen to you, too?

It is laughable enough that these stages of attachment can happen with material things. Rather sadder, though, is that I sometimes notice similar stages with friends, particularly with lovers. When an intimacy begins with someone new in my life, there is a honeymoon period. During this time, I am overly possessive, wanting to spend much time alone with the person, wanting them for myself, rather jealous if they are sharing their energy with others.

After a few weeks, this type of attachment fades away, leaving a more indifferent attitude. Typically there is a feeling of fondness towards the person, yet the possessive aspect has evaporated. I am not bothered by the possibility of the friend disappearing from my life. I am not touched if they are sharing their energy with others.

As with the material things, a third stage of relating can come, not with everyone, only with some. Having known someone, off and on, for a longer period, perhaps a year or a couple of years or more, the feeling of an old friend can gradually come into being. As with objects, this attachment feels softer, warmer, deeper and more healthy than the honeymoon period. It is not possessive in the same way. If the friend is sharing energy with another, I feel joy for them. If it seems I am not to meet them again, I feel some sadness, yet also a joy that their life is unfolding in a new direction.

Does this happen to you, or is it only me?

I love trees!

17/11/2010

You may have noticed that the first few exercises in the Things to Try audio series all relate to trees. This is no coincidence. For me, the energy of trees feels very special. During my journey so far, trees have been amongst my greatest teachers. For me, they hold a deep wisdom, an ancient wisdom which we humans are unlikely to fathom. It feels as if trees can root themselves in one place because they have reached such a total acceptance of existence, of what existence brings to them, that they no longer need to move in search of anything, nor to avoid something.

I remember the years of intense seeking, questioning everything, a profound dissatisfaction burning within me. Especially during that period of my life, trees were a godsend. Whenever I had a question, either mundane and practical, or ethereal, I would find a tree to talk to. Holding the question in my mind, with my hands resting on the trunk of a tree, a response would come, flooding into my mind like water from a bursting dam. And the “answers” which came were invariably surprising, the epitome of lateral thinking, beyond what my rational mind would have encompassed.

Here I felt to share with you something of the special place trees hold in my heart. I honour the part they have played in my growth and I give thanks for their existence.

And once in a while, I still like to climb a tree!

relaxing on the beach

12/11/2010

Sitting here, on a beach in Goa, watching the sun sink into the ocean, I feel very relaxed. My body feels warm and soft, almost fluid on the inside, after a day of floating in the sea, basking in the sun and making love. My mind, too, feels relaxed, free from anxiety, light and untroubled.

My feeling is that total relaxation is one the keys to spiritual growth. When we are relaxed with life, with what is around us, we can afford to drop our defences, the very defences that ordinarily keep us feeling separated and isolated. Furthermore, when we are in a relaxed frame of mind, not disturbed by worries, our energy can sink deeper into our being and, with luck, we can come to rest in our very essence.

Of course, all this is easy to say when watching a sunset from a tropical beach!

sleep

07/11/2010

Sleep is a mysterious business. It seems like time out from life, time when not much is happening. Yet my feeling is that growth and healing really take place during sleep. It is a time when the controlling mind is out of the picture and processes which we know not of can take their course, unhindered by the inefficient bumbling of the thinking mind. It is during sleep that we integrate the day’s experiences into our being. It is through sleep that we are revitalised, rejuvenated, ready for a new day.

I used to sleep a solid eight hours or more every night but something changed, about a year ago. Since then, I have been sleeping perhaps four or five hours each night. After that I awaken, yet the physical body feels in need of a little more rest, so I lie contentedly in bed. Sometimes my consciousness enters a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Then strange, lucid dreams come to me. These dreams are as implausible as ordinary dreams, yet I am fully aware that I am dreaming. Furthermore, I am never in the dream, I am always observing it as one would watch a movie.

I mention all this because, whilst staffing on the Path of Love, one night my sleep was normal: For the first time in a year, I slept for about eight hours and I had a normal dream. By that I mean that I was an actor in the dream and I was not aware that I was dreaming. It was a dark and disturbing dream. Even in the dream I felt disturbed. Yet in the morning I felt refreshed and later that day I had the “holy shit” realisation which I wrote about in the previous blog entry.

Since the Path of Love, I have been sleeping all night, without any dreams as far as I know. It feels like my being is absorbing and integrating the energy and experiences from that intense week. It is a reminder that after intensely transformative experiences, we need to have some quiet time, time to digest, time to sleep.

Sweet dreams!

holy shit!

04/11/2010

Following on from yesterday’s blog entry, there is one more gift from the days staffing thePath of Love which I would like to share with you. This one came as a deep realisation from within: One of the things I love about the spiritual journey is when an insight comes this way, without warning, unasked for, exploding into the consciousness, shattering long-held beliefs...

Part of the Path of Love process is about exploring our dark side, our shadow. It gives us a chance to plunge into and expose our deepest anger and hatred, our fears, our guilt and shame. At one point during the week, it felt to me like all this mud had been squeezed out of the participants and distilled, concentrated. I felt like I was looking at this distillation of the negative. I was completely dispassionate about it, as if I were watching dirty bath water disappear down the plug hole, no more.

And then it happened: Suddenly I knew that even this mud is sacred. It came from the infinite space of nowhere, this realisation, bursting into the mind as a volcanic eruption. I was left in awe.

Even our shit is sacred. It too comes from existence, from God. It is holy shit!

coming from the path of love

03/11/2010

I have just spent a week helping to staff the Path of Love at Croydon Hall in the UK. What a beautiful process! It has left me feeling soft and warm and fluid inside, as if I have become a warm blooded invertebrate. So, I feel to share some of my feelings and insights from the week with you.

The Path of Love is a structured, intensive, one week process involving exposure and catharsis whilst tapping into our deepest yearnings. I took part, as a participant, in 2006 and I can still remember the feeling of being completely cleansed by the end of the week. And with that came a great self-respect and respect for others, together with a clarity and honesty of communication to a degree which I had never known before.

This time I was helping on the staff, yet it feels as if I have participated again. The first thing I noticed was that tears were coming easily. Usually I am a typical man in this regard: months can pass without a single tear issuing from me. This week was the opposite; the tears started to flow on the first day and continued till the last. There were tears of sadness, tears of joy, tears of compassion, tears of admiration and tears that were an overflowing of something beyond words. It was wonderful. I love tears. To me, they are the ultimate expression of what it is to be human, an overflowing of feeling.

In the middle of the week, I suddenly felt oppressed by the structure, by having to perform particular tasks at particular times. For years I have led a very free life, doing what I feel to do when I feel to do it, so being part of an organized operation was a challenge. My inner crisis of rebellion only lasted a few hours though: the energy and purpose of the other staff was so inspirational that I was soon fully engaged in the process again. I saw, though, how important is to me that I am in my totality when I am doing something. The feeling of being partial, not fully engaged, was unpleasant.

Another gift came towards the end of the week, when I felt a particular person closing to me, withdrawing from me. I felt the “pangs of disprized love”. For me, it is one of the most painful of feelings, worse than being unloved, to have one’s love for another rejected. Yet I can say it was a gift, for to feel such things in the space of the Path of Love, where one is immersed in a sea of love, with support all around, is a true opportunity to grow and deepen.

Today I feel very fortunate to have been there at Croydon Hall, watching some of my fellow human beings facing their demons with astonishing courage. And seeing their appearance, their energy, flower as they uncovered their nobility, their divinity, their love.