The mirror

I felt rather creaky after my yoga class tonight and have just got out of a lovely warm bath laced with rosemary oil. I am snuggled in the centre of my universe, my black four-poster bed, full of comfy purple pillows, covered in a white mosquito net moving gently in the breeze of the fan. I am thinking about how comfy my world is at the moment, and how I love feeling so content and the centre of everything.
My life is shiny and flowing and I am asking myself about what the cause is. My life has not changed: same house, same housemate, same kitties, same job, same dreamy loved one :) As you all know, my sunglasses are pretty darn rose-colored to start with.

I am reminded of a story which Roberto Moussi told on the theta-healing course I attended in Beirut last week. Roberto is the insightful husband of my soulsister Junaline, who encouraged me to start writing this blog in the first place. At second thoughs,"attend" is really not the right word to use for that course. I breathed it in like the sweet air of my native country's Karoo, I assimilated it into my system like the purest honey sucked from the comb, I drank it down like a delicate pink sparkling wine with the finest of bubblies tickling my nose. A culmination of the last 25 years' of life experience, like a bouquet of beautiful flowers elegantly arranged together in 3 days, with the addition of the fabulous sweet Gardinias of Beirut!

I suspect you will hear many stories from there, but here is the first. It is attributed to Marci Shimoff.

A happy dog walks down the street, looking for a good place with friendly companions to stay. He is pointed to a house further down the street and when he pushes open the door, the house is filled with shiny-eyed dogs wagging their tails at him in welcome. The house's walls are covered in mirrors, and the dog is seeing himself. He thinks this is truly a very convivial place.
Now imagine a grumpy dog walking into the same abode, what happens? He finds a space filled with irritable growling dogs and experiences it a little hostile and not very welcoming at all.

Well, that is simply how the universe works. If we take care of our own well-being and joy, the world will be a good place to be in. If we are grumpy and moody and critical, there will be plenty of faults to find. As they say,'Two men behind prison bars, the one saw mud, the other stars'.
 It's the same world. What your perception of it is and the choices you make based on those perceptions, are up to you only.

Dear ones, I wish that today my love for my life may be contagious, and that you may all experience the world smiling back at you!

First thoughts in Beirut

The sky is pink and blue ice, the temperature perfect and I am sitting on the balcony of the Hayete guesthouse chilling out after a productive and thought-provoking day at the Theta-healing course I am attending here in Beirut.

Hayete means “My life” and it is great to have a few days off from My Muscat Life to regroup in a different space. This morning I got into the taxi down to the Monroe hotel and the taxi driver handed me a gardenia, which I have worn in my hair, the scent pervading my space all day.  This is a city of dichotomy, all windswept purple flowers on the pavements, and delicate jasmine and heady gardenia. But there is also dogshit from the shi-shi dogs being walked by the Filipino housemaids, as well as the pockmarks of war everywhere.

There are shiny glass buildings and old style Beiruti houses, like the one I am staying in. There are buildings that have been half- destroyed and have been left as is; and a lot of construction work everywhere too. On the busy corniche, there are ladies strolling in tailored cream shorts with stockings and pumps, and girls in tight skimpy dresses and women covered in black from head to foot. There are Porsches and ancient BMWs and also completely clapped out vehicles, seemingly missing essential parts, that look as though they should not be going anywhere.

There is a bustling vibrant energy and and I have found myself looking closely into the people’s faces. They tell completely different stories to those in the land where I live. As I rode down winding streets in that taxi this morning, we passed a large hand-pushed cart of gigantic fresh strawberries, the biggest I have ever seen. Yesterday, at sunset on the cornice, surrounded by the sweet smell of shisha, the people were buying sweet corn with lemon juice from vendors; those lemons also being the largest I have seen.

I am constantly surprised by the greenery everywhere, coming from Muscat this feeling is naturally pronounced.  I am also really happy about how grounded I feel here and how things have flowed since touchdown.

I had the perfect meal last night at Frida’s, the restaurant just below the guesthouse. It consisted of avocado salad with pomegranate, cucumber and teeny green leaves with lemony dressing. There were 5 types of crispy flatbread, my favourite was baked with sultanas and anise and served with slightly spicy olives and grated mature cheddar. I drank a litchi lemonade, freshly made there; the taste of which will stay with me for a long time.

My huge bed and pillow are super-comfy, and even though the resident bird woke me up at 5.30 this morning, I felt at peace with the world.

Now to read through my notes of the day to get up to speed for tomorrow and then I have a strong feeling I’ll be frequenting Frida’s again tonight.

The hundredth monkey

Dear friends, I remember a teacher telling uss this story in school in the 1980s, and I have discussed it with many people over the years. I thought you might like to hear it again. It is always thought-provoking. Wishing you interesting and stimulating thoughts and good sleep tonight.

“The Japanese monkey, Macaca Fuscata, had been observed in the wild for a period of over 30 years.
In 1952, on the island of Koshima, scientists were providing monkeys with sweet potatoes dropped in the sand. The monkey liked the taste of the raw sweet potatoes, but they found the dirt unpleasant.
An 18-month-old female named Imo found she could solve the problem by washing the potatoes in a nearby stream. She taught this trick to her mother. Her playmates also learned this new way and they taught their mothers too.

This cultural innovation was gradually picked up by various monkeys before the eyes of the scientists. Between 1952 and 1958 all the young monkeys learned to wash the sandy sweet potatoes to make them more palatable. Only the adults who imitated their children learned this social improvement. Other adults kept eating the dirty sweet potatoes.
Then something startling took place. In the autumn of 1958, a certain number of Koshima monkeys were washing sweet potatoes – the exact number is not known. Let us suppose that when the sun rose one morning there were 99 monkeys on Koshima Island who had learned to wash their sweet potatoes. Let’s further suppose that later that morning, the hundredth monkey learned to wash potatoes.

THEN IT HAPPENED!

By that evening almost everyone in the tribe was washing sweet potatoes before eating them. The added energy of this hundredth monkey somehow created an ideological breakthrough!
But notice: A most surprising thing observed by these scientists was that the habit of washing sweet potatoes then jumped over the sea…Colonies of monkeys on other islands and the mainland troop of monkeys at Takasakiyama began washing their sweet potatoes.
Thus, when a certain critical number achieves awareness, this new awareness may be communicated from mind to mind.
Although the exact number may vary, this Hundredth Monkey Phenomenon means that when only a limited number of people know of a new way, it may remain the conscious property of these people.
But there is a point at which if only one more person tunes-in to a new awareness, a field is strengthened so that this awareness is picked up by almost everyone.”

Perhaps that one extra person is you?

The above is just a short excerpt form the book The Hundredth Monkey by Ken Keyes Jr. The book was not copyrighted and may freely be reproduced.

On seahorses and safety nets

I am very happy to report the storm is over. It has been hard to describe and I am still not sure where it came from, like a strange and eery current from the depths of a calm sea, come to stirr things up. Everything is all pink and luminescent and harmonious again, and I am deeply relieved. Many things helped me to weather the storm. My house mate, my loved one, the artists, Claire, my colleagues in my office, my students, you- all firmly woven into a safety net of support that holds me, even when you don't know it!

In the middle of this feeling of endless waves washing over me and not being able to come up for breath, I remember a very helpful image that was given to me by my Swiss TCM practitioner and  acupuncturist many years ago in Ravensburg. It was not long after my mother's death and my first miscarriage, and it was the Chinese year of the horse. I was born in the year of the horse and it is said that every twelve years when the years revolve to your own sign, it is supposed to be an auspicious year for you.

It was a water year, and Karin said that she had come up with an image which would help to get me through the storms. She said, "Imagine yourself as a little seahorse at the bottom of the ocean, with your little seahorse tail firmly wrapped around a reliable frond of seaweed. No matter how strong the waves are on the surface, you will be swayed by the currents, but you will stay calm and composed in the depths".

So there I have been for the last 4 weeks or so, a little coral colored seahorse, holding on to my bit of seagrass for dear life. I have been fortunate to have all manner of interesting and beautiful sea creature swim past and share a smile, and have been surrounded by lovely plants and water treasures to distract me. I was even able to experience an unforgettable perfect moment of intimacy and peace amidst the fear.

Dear friends, if times are a little hard, KNOW without a doubt that the feeling will pass; and if times are bliss, give thanks with all your heart!

Threshholds

One of the reasons I love Oman are the beautiful ancient mud and brick buildings in the old towns everywhere. They embody a certain kind of magic for me.

I once wrote this:

What young girl
twirled her skirts and skipped 
across the threshhold of this place?

What old man
hummed and bared his heart,
light playing on his face?

This place so thin
like skin, so strong
Time disintegrates and generations meet
in this precious dusk.

Take care of the golf balls

I don't often post stories that are not my own, but this is another "'oldie but goldie" that has periodically been crossing my path for many years. You might know it, but it never ceases to help me to get my priorities straight.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a very large and empty pickle jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two glasses of chocolate milk from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand.

The students laughed.

The Moral of the Story - The professor waited for the laughter to subside....

"Now," said the professor, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things...your family, your children, your health, your friends, your favorite passions. Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full."

"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your home, your car."

"The sand is everything else...The small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are critical to your happiness."

"Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house or fix the disposal."

"Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities, the rest is just sand."

Luminescense in the deep

I wonder why it is so difficult writing about times that feel hard and challenging. I always want to sound happy and upbeat and sunshiney, and THANK GOD, mostly I am and do. But when I am too busy, unfocused or ambivalent, headachy or over tired, emotional or going through utterly irrational fears that have no basis in reality, I just want to hide them away from myself and the world.
 I just want to run, but then am always reminded once again of Hester, "You can run, my Blom, but remember, you always take yourself along!"
 I once ran from London to Hongkong in one fell swoop, only to realise there in a bar in Kowloon, that I had indeed "brought myself along".

I have not been sleeping well, and I have a small muscle under my left eye that keeps on jumping and shuddering. I am putting my light off too late and then wake up at 4 am with knots on my stomach that I cannot name. I am just not in a very safe space with myself right now, diving down into unknown unchartered waters.

I have told myself to let it be, just let it be. This too shall pass and the light heart is sure be restored.

Today, I felt a prick of  familiarity to this feeling, and thought back to the time when I was feeling really heavy and scared, attending a grieving seminar in southern Germany many years ago. I know I have spoken of it here before- a beautiful quiet Franciscan monastry and an ageless wise and childlike nun.
I spoke to her of my feeling of diving through the deep murky slush, completely disorientated and bewildered.She instructed me to go where I fear most, close my eyes and willingly go with the process, dive even deeper down and just trust what was happening.

I could hardly breathe at first, my heart exploding in my chest, but willed myself to continue down down down, through layers of blackness, until inexplicable I started to perceive a kind of luminescence. A tiny feeling of relief washed over me, at least something was becoming visible. I started to faintly make out sea creatures and plants, and then also shells, amazing pearls and other treasures, all glowing with an inner light. I had reached a place of unusual and sublime beauty and serenity.
As I had that memory today, I realised anew, that I need not fear these moments, but need to embrace them and dive into them, in order to find the gifts that are hidden within.

So, dear ones, I wish us all the inner courage to embrace the moments that bring us trepidation, and know that they have special fruits to bear.