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?

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.

Deserted

Deserted

Alone,
But not left alone.
Dry,
But not without water.

Learning,
Slowly to accept
My
Lack of acceptance.

Truth,
Here at this moment.
Gone,
Before I see its face.

Suppression,
Stifles and chokes.
Release,
Frees and Fires.

Tears,
Proof of life.
Loneliness,
The mirror of unliving.

Time,
Distorts the past.
Today,
Clouds the future.

Willingness,
The Key.
Commitment,
The door.

Sand,
Between my toes.
Sun,
Beating and cleansing.

Forgiveness,
The Healer and The Healing.
Fear,
The motivation and the prison.

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!

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.