Ancient Egyptians believed that upon death they would be asked two questions and their answers would determine whether they could continue their journey in the afterlife.  
The first question was, "Did you bring joy?"  
The second was, "Did you find joy?"

Showing posts with label Head and Heart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Head and Heart. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Signs




The hearts are back.  I noticed them starting up about 10 days ago.  Rocks, cow patties, a large drop of water on the bottom of a cup.  I had begun to think that they weren't going to show themselves in India, that the symbology of this land would be different.  Who knows, maybe the planet was using other words and I wasn't listening so it decided to speak my language.

I haven't been taking pictures, except the one above.  The hearts have been coming so fast now that I'd find walking anywhere difficult if I was stopping to document the hearts along the way.  They actually started up right after Calcutta and my weekend with Martin, which I'd begun to imagine was a sign of things to come in that department.  But since he has moved on, I'll have to trust the hearts are up to something else, up to sending me a message I'll figure out sometime down the road.

My last post brought such love and support from friends far and wide, many of whom reassured me that my mope-fest was looking like a global phenomenon.  Misery loves company, and I did find it soothing to know that I was not alone.  It is yet another sign that some energy links all us crazy humans, animals, the planet itself.

When I got up an hour ago, I went to check my email and found that gmail had decided to bar the door.  While I paid the gate-keeper with my secret password I was overcome with a deep fear that something bad awaited on the other side.  Sure enough, there was an email at the top of my queue from my dear friend Margaret telling me that another friend, an actor named Mark Chamberlin, had quite unexpectedly passed away.  As I understand it, he was in a bike accident on Sunday, but was well enough to be slated for release to recover at home, then he took a turn for the ultimate worst.  I want to write more on this later, when I am not in shock, when so many people are not reeling from the sudden loss of this dynamic, healthy, sometimes difficult, often charming, and quixotically sweet man.

In the meantime, I want to honor the hearts, the connective tissues that weave us all together.  I want to shine light on the subtle signals the Earth throws in our path, the messages that our deepest, intuitive gut-senses whisper to us in a steady stream.  I feel certain that if I keep an eye and an ear out I will discover that there is a thread here in India that when I pull it, tugs at your heart or mind.  I am sure that when you speak into the cosmic tin-can hidden in plain sight in your neck of the woods, that I will hear you all the way over here.

Maybe, eventually, we might also be able to read the signs, to understand what they mean and where they want us to go.  Today, I simply take comfort in noticing them and trusting that establishing contact is enough for the time being.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Jet Lag and Morning Thoughts

I woke up about an hour ago, 6 a.m. Mumbai time, 5:30 in the evening, yesterday in Seattle.  It's fair to say that my body doesn't yet know where it is, but I feel more rested.

My mind turned on quickly and thought over my post from last night and instantly threw this at me: Think from the Heart?  That's gonna be impossible, we are using our head here because once we start really using the heart, you are going to fall apart.

Don't you like it how my head gangs up on me?

But, my mind has a point.

I don't have a fear of wanting to go home, not really, only a fear that when I completely allow myself to feel, I will be overwhelmed by confusion and sadness and helplessness.

My mind threw me one little bone though.  It keeps telling me that the use of the words "desperation" and "despair" don't seem quite right.  The conditions I am witnessing would cause me despair were I to live like so many people here do.  But I do not actually know if I correctly perceive "desperation" from the folks who are actually living here on the streets.  It seems crazy to think that they would not be desperate to change their lot, but there is a different flavor, a different spice to their emotional quality that I cannot grasp yet; maybe I never will.

I am positioned, it seems to me, at the fulcrum of a see-saw and on one end is the task of trying to understand how people live in this culture that is so very very very foreign to me.  On the other end is the job of understanding how to be myself and to hold myself peacefully and joyfully no matter how far from home I am.  Somewhere between the two lies a perfect balance of experience.  For now, though, I think I cannot hold both steady at the same time.