Soggy

Soggy

It has rained much lately. Korea has a rainy season during the summer and we are in the middle of it. This weekend has been wet, very wet. I feel soggy inside although I have only left my room once this weekend.

Soggy but not wet from water. Soggy with laziness. I feel fat but not from food. I feel tired but not from activity.

I am an active person who also enjoys being still. I have not been active or still this weekend. I have been sitting but not still. The only thing that is active is my mind’s need to avoid feeling, being. I am not present while sitting heavy for hours. I had a long deep nap from the exhaustion of non-activity. Non-activity. There must be a name for activity that isn’t, inactivity does not quite cover this state.

Many years ago while living in an intentional community of hard core activists except me; one of the community members used to laugh warmly and appreciatively at my desire to sit and be still and do meditation while they were out doing their thing to change the world full of anger, rage and self-righteousness. I would sit. I was not soggy then the way I am soggy now. Then I was full of presence, focus and depth with a mind willing to be with itself, at least sometimes. One night sitting up late listening him play guitar and trying to sing folk songs, we were laughing at where I fit into the community. Then with his brown eyes below his long reddish auburn hair and fare skin bursting with excitement, he yelled out in the middle of a Woody Guthrie song, “You are a Passivist! Not a pacifist, you are the opposite of an activist. A Passivist!” He was so ecstatic he found a way to identify my spiritual and personal way of dealing with change at that point in my life. That became how I was identified back then. Who knew I would less than ten years later become a slothful man in South Korea hiding from rain and himself after existing as a man who used every season and natural experience as an opportunity to get know myself and our world better? When did I become slothful? Lazy? Gluttonous? How does this happen? Why is resistance to greatness so seductive and powerful? Is this why so few can find and then hold on to answers; the real answers that the rest all sit around filled with alcohol or caffeine intellectually pondering over without any real experience or personal knowledge with words like existentialism and Darwinism rolling off their tongues like the granola they ate for breakfast?

How did a mystic become a mystery to himself?

And more importantly, what does it take to return to such a state of being but with the added knowledge and experiences to integrate, creating maybe one or two steps further along the staircase of life? Can we ever return to the Garden of Eden once we have eaten the apple and still be true to each other and ourselves? Is there a way to go back AND go forward?

Friday Night in Danyang Valley

Friday Night at Danyang Valley

My tent is pitched between two retaining walls and next to a rock to sit on. It is a full moon on this Friday night with a hint of clouds in the sky to add to the feeling of Truth I sense here in Danyang Valley. Although not really Truth since the campground is pretty well tended to and has that air of resort. I am twenty feet from a man-made waterfall with a wooden wheel turning and spilling into a lively and vocal brook that flows down from Mt. Seobeksan. This is where I will sleep tonight.

The solitude is both comforting and disconcerting. My life in the cemented city of Cheonan does not provide this kind of solitude; even my mountain. The quiet is loud as the water cascades in all directions like my mind.

It is cool enough for me to put on a long-sleeved shirt at thirty past midnight but the night air in the mountains is nourishing my skin and pores. My first yawn of the night. A good one that inserts its message loud and clear. I will obey.

Tomorrow is the Second Annual South Korea Couchsurfing Gathering. There should be between 40-50 people coming from all over the country to attend and participate in hiking, climbing, paragliding, eating and enjoying our weekend together. I wanted to camp the night before to get my whole Self present. And I love camping this time of year.

It is working; water, mountains, green and fresh air what can rarely be achieved in city life, even for a recluse-wannabee like me.

The bookends of my Life

The Bookends of my Life


Sitting is good,
I like to sit.
Here on the mountain,
With lush green trees and plants.

I am at Home,
More so than my home.
They are my friends,
The Ones I know.

The beaten-up dirt path,
That winds it way from,
The Temple to The Church,
The bookends of my life.

The stairs i do not climb.
The graves i do not observe.
The women in their visors and long sleeves,
That pass without notice.

I have fallen in love,
Here on this mountain.
We share a vision of,
What was and what can be.

The dead bark covered in green moss,
Layers of my skin shed.
Both nourish the soil,
And connects us in a physical way.

I know it will end,
My time with this mountain,
The green trees and plants,
And the mountain itself.

Time cleanses and re-cleanses,
We are just food for the future.
The fallen pine needles cushion my steps,
I will someday serve this Earth as well.

It Will Not Happen

It will not happen

It will not happen
I will not hate you
You are too precious for that
I might not be your friend.

It will not happen
I will not be seduced by your body
You are not just flesh and blood
I might not look away.

It will not happen
I will not buy your sex
You are still my Sister
I might not let my hands touch you.

It will not happen
It will not be a slave
You are not my Master.
I might not be ready for freedom yet.

It will not happen
I will not disgrace you family
You are real with tears and toes
I might not accept the offer.

It will not happen
I will not ignore your Truth
You are not so simple
I might not know how to love.

Go Ask The Mountain

Go Ask the Mountain

It’s just a simple three-kilometer hike, nothing of great proportions. I do it almost daily, well, really nightly. It is a mountain, like but not like every other mountain in Korea, with one bug except. It is the mountain I will miss when I leave here. Tang San is my best friend in Korea.

Tonight while climbing up the side by the Golden Buddha of the Temple I sit at on occasion, it occurred to me I would leave this mountain, soon. I was sad for a moment and then felt my heart twitch with joy. I have lived and learned on this mountain. I meditate every morning in my room but Tang San is where I ask the questions that I need and often do not want the answers. Tonight the question was simple while slowly stepping on the bed of fallen pine needles with the refl3tio of the almost full moon shining a light for me over the branches and stumps. “What do I need to learn to tonight about myself, us or how I can be of better service or become of better man?” A simple question.

What struck me as I came to one of the side paths which I took a left around the family trying to coax their little dog with a red light blinking around its neck is this; why do I always ask to be a better man? Why not a better person?

I passed the dog and headed toward the bench I spent Saturday afternoon in the slight drizzle on Buddha’s Birthday sitting and reflecting. It one of my favorite spots on the mountain. Yesterday late afternoon I had an energizing experience of standing Qi Gong in front of the bench while sensing the curious Koreans passing by looking at the strange Foreigner. Strange indeed but not because I was standing and meditating. Tonight I kept walking. I wanted to stay focused and present. There is something here I need to learn.

Then another question slid into my consciousness. Why do I get irritated when women speak of themselves as something separate and, therefore, special and seem totally fine with making that distinction myself? Hummm good question. Maybe someday I will have the answer. I was not able to let go of a nagging feeling in my belly. It was initially stirred yesterday afternoon during a Skype session with a friend discussing our departures from Korea. What have I done here? How is it that a mountain in a city of a half million people is my best friend? Maybe my only close friend? How did I spend this much time here and really only make a few semi-strong relationships and they were predominantly with Koreans? Why have I avoided non-Koreans with such commitment?

Well, I have done some things! I have done the rough drafts of a novel, a book of essays and memoirs and the foundation of a cultural and social book about Korea and Koreans. That is something. And I learned about non-verbal communication, especially energetic exchanges between people. I leaned that sex is not a given. Good friendships can be formed with folks I have never seen or heard online. That writing is important to me, no, essential at this point in my life. That I could fly 8,000 miles but still miss my dead family members. I still don’t have a clue about much, not a surprise. That going months between ANY physical contact with humans above grade six is challenging, very challenging. Koreans do not share physical affection with other that are not family except for women who walk with their hands or arms wrapped around each other as a matter of course. Hugging matters, even to a semi-cold distant man like myself.

Tang San is my friend. It is hard for me to visualize my experience here in Korea without my time on this mountain. Like all good friends, Tang San lets me come to my own conclusions but rarely leaves me without something new to chew on. Tonight, while reaching the base of the mountain and walking down the staircase in front of the Church with large red cross in the sky and the larger painting of Jesus n front of the building I realized where I am headed next has many mountains. They are larger and dry with little else but rock. Deserts are like that. This particular desert is without sand, just rocks, mountains and space. I will try to make friends with those mountains like I have been fortunate enough to with this one. And hopefully that will not give me the answers without forcing me to search and claw a bit first too. Tonight I was thinking of Gurdjieff while walking- a Teacher, a model and haunting face with intense expressions of locked eyes, forceful cheeks and a forehead that tells stories of many miles. I will walk some of those same miles soon enough.

Waka 1

I am alone here Alone need not be lonely Trees stand tall rooted Compost takes hold of Earth’s breath The force of love is relentless A vision with eyes Staring like the owl at dusk Full moon sighs tides rise Reflections of love and desire Nothing quells The Golden Mind The sand bleeds parched soles Emptying clamshells at midnight The shoreline is full Hermit crabs at home anywhere Moments wash away forever Camel humps desert The cactus knows no limit Needles poke through flesh The answer is not questioned The question is not answered The night sleeps again Sunrise lifts human blindness Hands stretch across time Seeing is not believing Rumi speaks sunset arrives River almost still A heart beating quickly Mind needs to slow down A breeze tickles the tall grass The grass returns to its post I breathe a half breath Confusion breeds illusion Dry tears shake my grip The river does snot know lies Cool tranquil waters refresh What is the next step? I can’t wait and do nothing Tadpoles scurry about The frog sits home unmoving Speed takes much time and effort

i am Not a Healer

It has been forty minutes in an altered brain rhythm. We have slipped from below ordinary consciousness, below psychic all the way down to spiritual healing. It is a state where words, thoughts and actions are not ruled completely by the ego. The shadow has quieted down enough to allow the True Self to speak and be present. The answers are usually simple, a word, a phrase or maybe even just a syllable. In this case, very simple: “Yes”. This is life as a Reiki Practitioner for me.

I am not a Healer. I am fortunate to get to participate in healing experiences but not Healer. At times I am passed information intuitively but not a psychic. Have facilitated many spiritual counseling session but am not The Counselor. Teachings have spilled out of mouth initiating growth and development almost on a regular basis, often daily, but I am The Teacher. There have been more situations than I could possibly count when I “read” someone’s spiritual history at first glance, but am not a telepath. I have no particular skills or talents of a supernatural nature. I am not anyone special, at least not anymore so than the next man or woman. How could I be? Why would the Divine give one child any more gifts than another? Arrogant I am; but not that arrogant, at least not at this moment.

I have been noticing lately how many folks claim to be Healers, Shaman, Teachers and a host of other grand positions. If so, why are they still working with the people they have “healed”? More importantly, why would anyone want to be “healed”? If a Shaman or Healer rids them of their blemish, how will they know what to do next time they encounter a similar obstacle?

Where did this concept of such demonstrations of Grace begin to be labeled as talents and/or skills? What extreme arrogance I have would have to posses to think these are something I am in charge of or belongs to me. Like Healing and auto maintenance are both skill sets that can be memorized or categorized similarly. One can learn how a Suzuki Samurai works and have complete mastery over returning it to its homeostasis when trained properly, at least in most cases. But Healing is not that way, or should I say, my experiences have been contrary to that. So what skills or talents do I posses that contribute to me in working with others? I Pray a lot. If I was to grasp on to one skill it would be that I Pray a lot. Another one that comes to the surface is I am relentless. I push and push and push rarely accepting defeat or limitations. I barrel through without allowing fear to trump the possibility of Healing, mine or someone else’s. I have great Faith in Healing. Although I am not sure Faith is an honest portrayal. I have experienced and witnessed time and time again the Will and Courage rise up from within us for greatness to really call it Faith. Faith implies believe, I do not believe in anything. I wait till I have enough evidence and that is what I exist on- evidence not Faith.

After fifteen years of laying my hands on people, holding their hands while they shared their deepest fears and suffering, witnessing their first Prayer since childhood and seeing that look in their eyes that can only be sparked with the Divine, I would not be honest to say I have Faith. I once had Faith, I once believed in healing and there was a time a when I thought I was “special” or “gifted”.

I used to live with a guy who was divorced and shared custody of his 11-year-old daughter who was a Downs Syndrome kid. She was a bossy kid but loved to sit and watch me Pray and complete Reiki self-treatments when she stayed with us on weekends. She would watch me sometimes for several hours riveted. I remember before meeting Katie, I heard people talking about how being around a “special needs” child teaches us many things. I did not know they were talking about what she taught us about patience and compassion was her patience and compassion, not ours. I learned from her how hard it must be to live in a world where those around you can easily understand each other but have no clue what I am trying to tell them. How much patience it must take to watch us fools try to get her to be something she is not, but still love us. What love and healing her presence brought to others and me. Not because a “special needs” kid could tie her shoe or cut her own noodles. Because she put up with our lack of understanding of her world relentlessly and loved us in spite of our ignorance. At times it was unbearable to me the gap between her willingness to love and accept me versus mine to her. Katie was one of the few Healers I have known in my life.

I remember the first “miracle” I experienced with Vibrational energy. It was 1993 and I was a Radio Shack manager. I ran many stores but this owe was located at a little mall. They sent me this young woman to help out since I was low of staff. She was attractive, fashionable and friendly but didn’t have a clue what a capacitor or integrated circuit was. Hey, I needed the help. One day I was in my office and she came in crying uncontrollably. I asked, “Hey what’s going on?'

“I just left the doctors office and they confirmed I have cancer in my liver.”

I was stunned. She may not even have been 21 at this point. I didn’t know what to do but somehow this spilled out of mouth without thinking, “I have just begun receiving training in some kind of Vibrational healing through touch. I have not tried it on anyone yet but I would be willing to try it with you.” Just like that manager became human being.

“Oh my God! I was u all night last night watching TV because it couldn’t sleep. I saw this show about people that do that and was wondering if there was anybody in New Jersey who does it. YES! I would love to try this if you would be willing”.

I put my hands on her shoulders and Prayed for about five minutes or so, maybe longer. I saw colors and felt warmth. It was eerie in a good way. I didn’t know how to stop or what one does yet, so I just sat back down at my desk. She was crying but with different tears this time. A week later she came back to work, ran in and hugged me. She had just left the doctors office and there were not traces of cancer. Nothing. The ran the tests several times and found nothing. About a year later I received training in Reiki, and have practiced some form of Reiki daily since January 26th, 1995. I have witnessed many miracles. It is humbling every time. It lets me know my place in the grand scheme of things. Not very big for the record.

I am not Healer. I have no particular skills or talents. My name is michael. I like to Pray. Join me.

Returning to Well

After about a week of feeling stuffed, exhausted and drained from taking an anti-biotic for the first time since the mid-nineties, it was time to get well again. My co-worker insisted I get an injection before I get worse. Out of lack of energy to argue, I agreed. We called our manager and she said my insurance can be used anywhere and that I should definitely get an injection. My inner resistance to THAT kind of treatment was suppressed due to not knowing how or what to do otherwise here in Cheonan. I don’t speak the language and nobody I really know is involved in the kinds of treatment I would naturally choose. I would go before work the next morning; I was about to enter the world of western medicine that I left behind more than fifteen years ago in the middle of South Korea.

I went to bed late, my typical method of resistance that extends the day to avoid tomorrow. I slept later than was helpful, which reduced morning meditation and Reiki. Certainly more evidence of inner resistance when I need to support my system greater. It was beautiful outside and I started heading in the direction my co-worker who lives across the street from me said I could find a hospital for my injection. When I arrived at the corner I was directed to, I looked for the hospital and only saw a children’s hospital. I searched the area around the corner and saw a sign written in both HanGul and English: Oriental Medical Clinic. I smirked and walked in the building trying to figure out which floor to go to since I could not read the information on the elevator. I walked back outside and looked up at the green and white sign and counted the floors- one, two, three. It is on the third floor. I made a point of memorizing the name in HanGul to find it once I made it to the second floor. I can read HanGul; I just don’t know what anything means yet. I entered the elevator with a handful of other people. There were two young schoolgirls dressed in uniforms that giggled and put their hands over their mouth at seeing a foreigner on the elevator. How do they think we made it to the top floor of the World Trade Center without elevators?

The elevator doors opened, I turned left, no, I turned right and there was the same kind of white and green sign with the same words and an arrow. I followed the arrow and when I turned the corner, I could smell the sweet and pungent fragrance of ginseng, schizandra and a host of other Asian herbal remedies filling my clogged nostrils with an aroma that woke up my whole system. This I understand.

I opened the two glass doors with a twisted wooden branch as door handle and made note that like homes, restaurants and schools: medical clinic are also shoeless. A pleasing sight to add to the aroma that welcomed me to the clinic. I approached the desk cautiously knowing the hard part was about to arise, speaking to the receptionists who probably speak no English. I was correct, they both froze when I spoke and looked away as if they were hoping I would magically disappear or become fluent in HanGul when they turned their heads back. I didn’t. I pointed, my latest skill, to my throat and made a coughing sound, they acknowledged somewhat and pointed for me to sit down in the waiting area. A few nurses walked by and covered their mouths while they giggled at the foreigner trying to receive treatment without communication. I immediately felt shame and compassion for all the Latinos I dismissed as customers due to language in the mid-eighties when working for Radio Shack as a Retail Sales Manager. Karma has a good memory; it lasts from lifetime to lifetime and certainly remembers 1985.

About fifteen minutes later I was guided by a nurse dressed in pink by my shirt sleeve towards the back area to a gold curtain which the nurse pointed for me to get up on the small carpeted table and lie down, I did. When I wasn’t doing it properly, instead of returning to the pointing method, she just moved me to where she wanted me the way that nurses do. A few minutes later, a woman, I assumed the clinician of whatever form of treatment they do, entered the little curtained off area and said, “Hello”.

English!

She asked me several question about my symptoms including typical Asian treatment concerns like, “How are your bowel movements?” “Are you sleeping OK?” “Have you had an diarrhea?” Have you been eating well?” This conversation was taking place while she was pressing her hands into various points around my digestive system. Each time I made a face or sound, she pressed again deeper and asked, “Which hurts more this or this?” She then asked, “Have you ever had acupuncture before?

“Yes. Chinese acupuncture in America.”

“Have you ever taken any herbal (with the “h” pronounced) remedies?”

“Yes, many including ginseng.”

“Do you like ginseng? Does it make your stronger?”

“I do like ginseng. It gives me more energy but sometimes I get shaky from it.”

“Are you allergic to anything” She pointed to her arms and makes motion to illustrate hives, “Hives?”

“I cannot take alcohol, and my mother, father and brother are allergic to penicillin.” It did not seem necessary to say they were allergic to penicillin since they are not alive anymore. “I have never had any, since they told me I would be allergic too.”

“Korean acupuncture is more painful than Chinese. This point on the bottom of your foot will hurt, please take a deep breathe.” I did but it still sent a sharp pain through my right foot and ankle, which lasted only five seconds. “I give you three day supply of herbs for you to take, come back at 6:00p.m. since it takes three hours to make. You come back Thursday see me. OK?”

“Yes, I get off work at 6:00. I can do that.”

“OK. Twenty minute, needles. Just rest. OK?”

“Yes.” And she was gone. It was only a matter of minutes before I could feel the little twitches and pulsing of the energy shifting and moving throughout my system. It felt good to be placing my well being in the hands of someone like her doing something like this. After a week of anti-biotic (anti-life) and cough medicine, it felt good to be treated in a familiar manner again.

That was Tuesday morning, it is now Friday night and I feel the best I have since the day I stepped off the plane in Incheon-Seoul Airport on July 15th. My body feels healthy again and my cough and sinus congestion are almost completely gone. It took sickness for me to notice my body was not operating optimally. As usual, when looking for the hospital to take an injection I did not want, I wandered blindly till I found what I really needed, as usual, in spite of myself. The Universe sure is efficient!

The Janitor

It was the second time I had visited the Tibetan Buddhist Learning Center, Labsum Shedrup Ling. Leanne and I decided we would spend New Year's together on a retreat at the center. The retreat had a focus on The Buddhist Lineage, neither this, nor the fact that I became infatuated with a twenty-year-old girl at the retreat is important to this particular reflection. Before I dive in, I would like mention that I knew very little about Buddhism when we signed up to participate. Leanne did. I just knew that there was some kind of Inner Connection with Buddhism and me.

The first time I noticed him was during the initial shared meal. He was sitting somewhat distanced from most of the folks there, but I could tell he lived there. He was wearing very plain grey pants and shirt; the kind that most janitors wear. He seemed almost disinterested in the events and happenings around him. It appeared as if he was enjoying his meal, content and grateful just to be there. The first thought that went through my mind while watching him was something like this, "WOW! If this is what their janitors are like, I can't wait to see the monks! I am definitely going to become a Buddhist." He helped clean up as if he does it every day and what he does there. He showed people where to find things and whatever they needed like a typical worker would do at any place else. But there was something very different about this janitor. He was so simple and radiant in his way of being. He smiled simply but beautifully with a sincerity that was rare. I noticed myself staring and observing him beyond what is socially acceptable but I couldn't stop myself. He was special in a way that I had not known previously. I was in awe of the way he carried himself, and the Inner contentment that was his being. I remember thinking to myself, "Where do they find janitors like this in Tibet?" Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, he was an older Tibetan man, possibly in his sixties. He had those facial features that only men and women that have walked this earth for a while and have learned more than the rest of us. The lines on their face seem deeper and richer, as if each one tells a story.

I was talking with someone during another meal the following day and asked about the janitor. The person I was speaking with smiled and informed me, “He is not the janitor.” I immediately felt embarrassed. Then he shared with me, “He is actually one of the men that helped lead The Dalai Llama on his exile from Tibet to India.” I froze and thought, "What an idiot I am!' When I regained my composure, I asked the guy I was conversing with, “Is he a monk?” He smiled again and said something to the effect of, "Yes, he is definitely a monk. He decided after successfully leading the Dalai Llama safely to India; he could now stop wearing his robe and dress like the rest of us."

I did get to meet and have a few conversations with him over the next year or so. He is a very kind and gentle man. To me, he is Buddhism. I say this because he exudes the virtues that I think of when I am thinking about what it is to be a Buddhist practitioner. He is simple, kind and warm. He has no interest in drawing any special attention to himself or his accomplishments. He has genuine Humility but is not self-defeating or a door mat. Honesty and Truth just ooze out of every part of his being and it is all genuine. He is not "acting" like this to show us what these traits are like, he is these traits.

In America, Buddhists often are very intellectual and full of book knowledge on Buddhism and all its Teachings and philosophy. They are ready to engage in intellectual debate, armed with all their book knowledge. To me, this is far from what being a true Buddhist is. Buddhists do not try to show off their knowledge or meditation skills. If for no other reason than the Humility of knowing that we all truly know very little, and what we know today as "Truth" may shift as we develop and evolve. Being able to quote Koans is different than being able to live Koans. Being able to sit for long periods is different than being able to learn for long periods.

For me, I want to evolve enough to be as dull as dishwater. I am far from there and rarely am willing to let go of my desire for attention and recognition. These attachments hold me back, and in turn, hold back those I try to help. A Teacher can only take a student as far as they have gone themselves. I realize that this is not true in academia, but my experience interprets this to be true in spiritual development. Genuine Humility seems to be a lost virtue in our culture these days. It often gets confused as putting yourself down in a self-deprecating manner. Humility is being right size, not big or small, weak nor strong, aggressive nor passive, best nor worst, etc. We are Humble when we allow our True Self to shine through. The moments I experience this kind of Humility are typically in either Genuine Prayer or Genuine service. I heard somebody once say "We should do something good for somebody else every day and not get caught." To me, this is the essence of the janitor. He was a very special somebody but was a total nobody.

Can you imagine what the world would be like if each one of us did one thing every day for somebody else without getting caught? Are you up for the challenge?

Exposed

“So, what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me to come and meet you at nearly midnight and you look awful.” He looks directly into her eyes intently, “So, what’s wrong?”

She flinches and sits back in the wooden chair in the back room of Soma Coffeehouse. “You really are intense aren’t you? No small talk, no how is work or anything, just ‘So, what’s wrong?’ She says mimicking him and what she thinks is austere facial and body expressions. “Fine. I am miserable, are you happy?”

“Why on earth would I be happy about you being miserable? OK, so what’s going on lately? Have you been practicing Reiki, Yoga, meditation? What have you been eating and drinking? Let’s start with the basics and we can go from there.”

She sighs heavily and Miho notices her hesitation and her face drooping with shame. He decides that they need to go another route, Natalie is not ready to jump right in. “Natalie, how about we take a moment to do some breathing and get connected to the Reiki lineage. Maybe that will get us both in a place where we can move forward without the ego and emotions in the way.”

“Thanks Miho. I am mess and really need some help. What should I do?”

“Let’s just take a few deep breathes, relax and let our brain rhythms slow down a bit.” They both close their eyes while sitting in a public coffee house and take some deep breathes, hers are deeper and heavier than his. His are gentle; hers are weighted and carry a lifetime of exhaustion in each breath. He notices her relaxing just enough to move forward, “Now. Ask to connect to the Usui Reiki lineage. Let the lineage strengthen you and get you aligned. Feel the lineage and its Presence fill you up. Allow Reiki to expand in you and become you. Ask the Higher Self to be present, in charge of you and this whole process. Just your Higher Self and mine connecting and working together. No more Miho or Natalie, just the Higher Selves doing their thing. When you feel it, slowly open your eyes enough to see but not enough to let the whole world in. Take your time, we do not want to force or manufacture anything. Reiki is about genuine experiences and no pretending or letting imaginations have a field day with us.” She barely opens her eyes enough to see out and make eye contact with Miho. They both share a gentle and unintended smile. “How are you doing?”

She smiles softly and barely moves her lips to speak, her voice is still, gentle and without any of the drama and attitude that was present just a few minutes ago. Her face has a nice blush tone to it and her eyes are clear. “I feel good. It is the first time I have really felt Reiki in a while, too long. Miho, I need to get back to where I was just a few months ago. I miss feeling this way, being this way and being of service to others. I have become very self-centered, selfish and fragmented. What happened?”

“It feels good to see you this way again. This other Natalie is not needed or helpful to you or anybody else. The real Natalie is calm, focused, committed and cares deeply for others and their well being. You are needed Natalie and we need you to do what your Higher Self signed up for you to do.” He slows down even more, “You can’t do this if you are all caught up in your personal dramas and letting the ego run your life. Why have you been so fragmented?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. There are no victims here and you have been trained in inner discernment through Reiki. Why are you so fragmented? Can you feel your body?”

“Yes, I can now. I have not felt my body in a while.” A small but visual hesitation before she continues allows her to slow down, “I have been doing some things I didn’t used to do when I felt connected and grounded. For one, I have started drinking coffee again in the morning and sometimes at night when out with friends. Of course, now I don’t sleep as well either. Which makes me want to drink coffee the next morning even more. Miho, my life is moving so fast these days, I never stop to slow down and barely do any Reiki or meditation in the mornings anymore. I have not been to the Yoga studio since May and my body is cramping and stiff a lot. There is very little energy flow and I feel it.”

“I am not surprised, caffeine pokes holes in the energy field and allows all kinds of stuff to latch onto us. I experience the same thing with sugar products, I get wired, anxiety, ungrounded and my field becomes like Swiss cheese. Who knows who and what I drag home with me after some ice cream and a cup of coffee?”

“OK, so I have been eating a lot of sugar too. And, when my friends and me go out, I drink a couple of glasses of wine. I rarely get drunk so I convince myself it is OK. What is the big deal right? If everybody else can, why can’t I? Of course, I know better. I have worked with enough folks to see just how dramatic alcohol in the bloodstream does to the energy field, digestion and mood. Then, the next morning, I need coffee to get started and some sweats to eat so I can get going. No wonder I don’t sleep anymore. That is another thing. Since adding all this stuff back into my life, my dreams have changed dramatically, they are darker too. I have gone from Reiki Teaching dreams to dreams filled with violent sex, fighting with everybody and I feel like the whole world is in bed with me now while sleeping. I can feel everybody’s thoughts and emotions, as if I am connected right to them.”

“Well you are! That is what happens when we let our field get open like that. And you are right, you do know better. I do too, but every now and then I convince myself like you that I can do it, somehow it will be different this time. And we actually buy this crap and ignore the Inner Voice that knows where it will lead us. I am so glad that I have been away form that stuff for a while now. Sleep is better and I don’t have that feeling like being spaghetti with all kinds of cords knotted and twisted inside of me from every person I come in contact with. The good news is that Reiki can help you get back to being Natalie again. But like everything else, it is not free. You will need to recommit yourself to doing your work. You are needed and matter. We have work to do and don’t have time to keep buying the crap that the ego sells us. We have to let the Higher Self be in charge and stop playing all these games.” He pauses long enough to make sure they have solid eye contact, “Are you ready to do your work, or do you still want to play around?”

Natalie’s eyes and focus are still and unwavering. She does not move anything in her body, as if she is sleeping while completely alert and aware of what is going on inside and outside of her. Her strength and courage are visible in her face, posture and tone, “Yes I am ready. I want to be of service again. I miss being me and the way I feel when connected up with Reiki. What do I have to do?” Natalie’s voice is steady and firm.

“You just did it. Remember, what we say and do matters. They are not just words and thoughts. They are real and hold an imprint. Everything we think and feel affects others. We are all connected and we all need to do out part, even though it may seem small or irrelevant, it natters. We matter.” Miho reaches across the Maple table and takes Natalie’s hands in his. His gaze does not budge, nor does hers. They stay locked in this moment for what seems like all of time but in linear time, just a moment. That is all it took, just that moment of connection and acknowledgement. What else is needed?

The football player florist

Sitting on a wooden bench on this beautiful fresh low-sixties degree night, I am full of hope and life. It rained several times today and the air, earth and its inhabitants have received the cleansing that soft cool rain brings with it. The nights are starting to cool off a bit and that makes walking, writing and sleeping all the more enjoyable. Tonight was exceptionally clean and crisp. I planned on a short walk and a stop at the grocery store and maybe the incredible plant shop near the park that I wanted to explore on my way home. Along the way, I fell in love with the night air and so much for groceries, plant shops and short walks.

After climbing up the hill of the park/school that I was curious about, I planted myself on a bench. I sat for less than a minute and acknowledged this was not the right time, space or bench for me to practice some Qi Gong. I stood up and noticed a man walking behind the school to an area with a lot of soft lush green grass and a slate path for walking. This was the way to go. He lost me quickly since I am a casual walker. I started walking down the hill and decided the dirt would be more fun then the rock and dirt steps. When I reached the bottom, I became aware that this is next to where I walk down the main street in this particular neighborhood but still secluded enough to sit and be still. Instead of sitting on one of the cement benches, I felt drawn to the actual octagon shaped mini wooden shelter. It was raised just high enough that sitting on its perimeter would give me the wood to sit on, the earth below my feet and the perfect height for my body and Qi Gong. So I plated myself there.

Five minutes into Qi Gong, the Qi started filling my body, specifically my belly. I could feel my whole being come alive with joy and softness. My face relaxed along with my shoulders and breath. I felt the flow of energy up and down my spine with its base in my root center; home. A few minutes more of expansion and gratitude, I moved towards a reflection on a topic that has been taking hold of me lately. This being the shift, or maybe expansion of my vision of how to deal with issues and obstacles, current or Karmic. I have predominantly come from the pro football school of spiritual development. Meaning that I have typically lowered my head and banged helmets like a ram with any and all spiritual or personal obstacles and issues. I have stood my ground and survived by sheer effort, will and Grace- it is rarely pretty. I have taken on my obstacles head on. This has gotten me to a certain level, and I have been at this level or near it for several years now. I have been confronted about my terminal stuckness by most of my close friends and supporters over the last couple of years. I did not get what they were talking about; I am beginning to get some clues. Or should I say, I am not resisting receiving the Teachings as much as I have in the past. That feels a little more honest and accurate.

The expansion is now including another gentler method of dealing with resistance and obstacles. The florist school of dealing with dead or wilting issues- strengthen what is alive and help it grow stronger and increase in vitality. Go figure. Instead of going to battle, I can just increase what is beautiful inside me as a means of growth. It has worked for me for years as a grower of vegetables, fruits, herbs and flowers- why not me? In fact, as a grower, I rarely weed. I work on the growth of the plant and let the plant deal with the weeds. Typically, the plant that I want (which we know is what makes a weed a weed and a plant a plant) to prosper does, and the weeds go about their life without disturbing the amazingly robust and strengthened veggies or melons. Go figure.

So my spiritual toolbox is now adding another drawer for me to experience. This drawer includes moving out of the way, stepping around or just standing where I am and staying grounded and alive- no battle, no head on collision, no football helmets full of opponents paint and blood. It is not that I am abandoning anything that I have learned along the way, just embracing another way. Of course this way, just like the original way are firmly rooted in Reiki, Prayer, Meditation and Qi Gong. No reason to drop my old and trusted friends. So the football helmet will be waiting me for when I choose to put it into action, but today I will sit quietly allowing life and all its beauty and force fill me up. The florist and the football player become one.

We don't even Know We have It

Yesterday while drifting around Front St, Wilmington, NC, I stopped in a hippie-type store to peruse and continue my search for linen or hemp drawstring pants for men. I found amusement in the marketing of the Grateful Dead and Bon Marley paraphernalia. I have felt this way before in these kinds of stores. They have made them out to be demi-gods and forget how simple and humble they were. Bob would have hated being an icon for anything but revolution or uprising I think. In some ways, it is similar to what has happened with Brittany, Lindsay and Paris. I love that I can just write their first names and everybody knows whom I am referring to; it just further illustrates the point.

I was conversing with the young lady working in the shop about unisex pants and the differences in where we need comfort and more space to account for gender body types, curves and such. We have the “such” and women have the curves. Our conversation expanded as we continued to the icons of the Dead, Marley and her experiences touring with Widespread Panic. Of course, our personal experiences were much different due to generational cultural shifts. She was not old enough to experience the Dead as a living, cultural group of icons and the following they commanded. I would not know a Widespread Panic song if given only two choices.

As we got more personal, I shared about being on the road for the past three months and writing. She asked what I was writing and I explained that I a working on a project that may become a book someday. She inquired deeper and I expressed its content being how we try this and that, make all kinds of decisions and mistakes and in spite of ourselves, we come out of it OK for the most part. Reflections on Grace of you will.

She beamed and said she understood; her expression let me know she definitely understood. I asked her if she wanted to share an experience and she said she did. And she did.

She shared how she has a year and a half old girl that she did not plan for and how it is has been incredible for her. She continued on how this has effected her so positively and forced her to be grow up and be more responsible. She shared how surprised she was with the degree of strength she has in being a single mother and all that goes with it. Her affect and voice resonated with that strength, steadiness and maturity that parenthood has brought out in her. The young lady who just ten minutes before did not make eye contact and fidgeted constantly before, disappeared and now an adult woman and mother was standing before me. This is Motherhood to me- strong, courageous and maturity manifesting in front of my eyes on Mothers Day.

She told me her name was Leah and I shared that mine was Michael. Our connection was now constructed through the bridge of sharing our experiences of being human. Being human to me means walking into to enough walls long enough to accidentally find there wall is a door with an amazing sunset over the ocean on the other side. The Inner strength that she spoke about and oozed out of her quietly inspired me, made me stronger. Strength and courage are contagious. I feel fortunate to have “caught” some being in her presence.

This is another example of the exact thing we were sharing together; I walked in the store, amused with my arrogance with the marketing of the Grateful Dead and Bob Marley, whining about not finding the pants I want and then while “bouncing into a wall”, a door opens and the magic happens- Love, Courage, Strength, Birth and Parenting shine out for all to seen and feel. This is the Teaching for me these days; in spite of ourselves and all are efforts, the Divine Presence holds us and gently saves us from ourselves. Something beautiful takes place and we can do things we didn’t even know we could do/with for somebody else.
Wilmington, North Carolina: 5/2008

The Man in The Lighthouse

The Man in The Lighthouse

He sits quietly
Thoughtful
Alive
Reflective
They learn from him
Life
Connection
Tradition
He creates worlds other cannot see
Vision
Conception
Redemption
They bow in awe
Respect
Direct
Insightful
He listens to words not yet said
Open
Sensitive
Intuitive
They think he knows something, everything
Silent
Proud
Alone

Qi Healer

Today was the day I was looking forward to. The Qi Healer Intensive was at the point of the class where all the students would be practicing Qi Healing on each other. This \ is what I cam to do Danbury, Ct to experience.

As a Reiki Teaching Master for many years, I have plenty of experience with energy and working with others. Because of this, I knew that profound experiences would be shared together. I was not disappointed.

The intensity and focus of the Qi and the students was impressive. It is really neat to participate in a group with such committed people. The one member who was in a different [place, was having some external challenges and decided to leave against the Teacher and classmates recommendations. The four other group members are all experienced and dedicated Qi Gong, Tai Ji or Shiatsu practitioners and teachers. I am not in a group with a bunch of lightweights. The four of them continue to impress with their knowledge, wisdom and balance, and they are all fun and funny to hangout with. W have a series of “inside” jokes ranging from The Skilled Clipboard Holder to The Room with a Window and the Ice Cream Goddess. We have enjoyed each other’s company and friendship while experiencing this process together, especially those of us that have also slept here at night.

So I was in good company when we got down to actually working on each other. I received five healing in total, and with each one felt a release of dead energy or physical discomfort. Since I have not been sleeping well, I was especially grateful fort he clearing, balancing and strengthening each healer did on my head without it being discussed. I feel so much better tonight from the healings.

After dinner tonight, one of the guys and myself were leaving for a nice evening walk after we all made our jokes about the Ice Cream Goddess. We were about fifteen feet into the residential style parking lot when he noticed somebody drove their car into his, which literally moved his SUV sideways about six feet and crashed into my driver’s side door! It almost seems impossible based on the small size of the parking lot for a vehicle to actually make this happen, but it did. My door is completely knocked in, as well as my side view mirror. An interesting event with t he intensive ending tomorrow and my van being my transportation, “home” and private space these days. It seems bizarre and comical that I am homeless, unemployed, broke and now the owner of a banged up, un-drivable van AND feeling better than I can remember! The clarity, focus, softness, connection and vitality are all things I have been working on; who knew this is how and when they would manifest? The Universe certainly does things in ways simple men like myself cannot figure out. And I think this is the way it is supposed to be.