Earth,
heart,
sky;
animal,
plant,
mineral.
Smooth
pearls
(of wisdom?)
But
rough-
edged
the
prayer
Bead.
Freshwater pearls, with garnet, fluorite, rock crystal, rudraksha seed, and a bit of laboradorite.
I read today a piece in the Washington Post about Hindus needing to “take back” yoga. I read the article and the comments with great interest because it has been a matter of much discussion with those in my meditation and philosophy course as to the extent to which the practices we are learning are “religious” practices and whether they can be practiced consistently with other religions. There is much difference of opinion and strongly heated and held positions.
What I think is missing from the article is the question of distinctions between “spiritual” and “religious” practices. It is a simple fact that practicing yoga with depth and sincerity entails learning practices that are observed by Hindus. Does that make one a Hindu? Does it mean that one is “dissing” Hinduism if one learns and benefits from the practices, but does not self-identify as a Hindu.
What about Jews who have trees at the Christmas holidays (a tradition co-opted from the pagans in any event)? Is it OK that I have a mezuzuh even though my parents (who were born Jews) raised me in the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), and I continue to be a member of a Quaker meeting, and observe no other Jewish laws or practices.
Is it OK for me to chant “Hindu” chants if I do not identify myself as a Hindu or attend Hindu temple? If it is not OK, for whom is it not OK? Quakers? Hindus? Jews? Me? Who is to decide or judge?
It seems to me that “religion” (as specific sects, identities, and strict rules) tends to highlight difference and disunity, but sincere spiritual practice — whether or not done in a religious context and observance — should be unifying because all religions at their highest and most universal, call upon us to recognize the unity of spirit in ourselves and in all beings.
I dreamed last night that I won 30 million dollars in the lottery. I had no recollection of having bought a ticket (in waking life the only time I ever bought a ticket was 17 or 18 years ago as part of a 15-person group of co-workers who collectively bought two tickets when the prize was 75 million; we were going to quit en masse if we won).
In the dream, an acquaintance also won the same amount. She immediately quit her job and started engaging in activities about which she had previously only imagined doing.
On learning of my windfall, I stopped and paused and found that I didn’t want too much change right away. I deliberated about whether to take a lump sum or an annuity and to whom I would give the money. I wondered whether I could take a couple of months leave and then go back to my job part-time. I thought about whether I would like to move or set up a charitable foundation or teach yoga full-time. I found that after having been given financial freedom, I was still content to work and to live comfortably, but relatively modestly. I wanted to take time to deliberate where I could make the best offering with this outrageous stroke of luck.
The dream reminded me of the Zen proverb that was popularized in the 1970s: “Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water; after enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.” What was beautiful about my dream was a sense of a deep acceptance, a sense that even with my desire to grow and change for the better, that in my middle age, I am essentially comfortable with how I am living. I will keep seeking a deeper and more loving and compassionate way of being, even as I recognize that there is no prize that will transform me from the challenges of being human.
How are you manifesting your dharma these days?
My younger sister, too, loves the luminous work of William Laib, whose work is currently on exhibit at NY MOMA. The radiant golden square of hand-gathered hazelnut pollen brings to mind saffron-robed monks; think of the loving patience needed to gather this much pollen.
For me, it also is reminiscent of Lakshmi–goddess of prosperity, who is said to glow golden and whose energy we invoked the day before at a workshop with scholar and intuitive Constantina Rhodes.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Last week, when my friend Suzanne and I were walking out of the Conservatory of Flowers in Golden Gate Park to catch the bus back downtown, we came across an island of dahlias in the middle of the parking lot. We were filled with excitement and joy at the outrageous effulgence. In the past, I’ve never had any particular feelings one way or the other about dahlias, though I knew that gardeners can get completely obsessed with them. This exuberant showing gave me a flash of insight as to why dahlias can inflame passion and dedication. It was a sweet reminder always to be open to new wonder, even from things we have previously experienced and thought we knew.
