Beauty and The Pain

Yesterday I was witness to an amazing experience that I believe was heightened by 27 consecutive days of a new yoga practice. I have spent hours retraining my breath and listening to my body while twisting and bending into purposefully expanding postures. Without it, I may not have arrived at the healing destination that took place on a long drive home, after a long and arduous day.

It only took three words to cut through me like a knife. Cast out through the snarled lips of the past, and out of the mouth of one of my greatest teachers in this life. Those three words triggered a painful history, leaving tears welled up and hovering at the edge of my lower eyelids. Held back like high-water at the dam's edge.

More than the words themselves, it was my surprise reaction to them. And as I enter my sixth decade in life's classroom, this particular assignment continues to keep me after school. The curriculum has been a coarse one and today's lesson sat waiting patiently behind my tears and blurred vision, as I stepped behind the wheel for the welcome drive home.

I took a different route home than was usual. One less congested and stop sign free allowing for an ease in driving. In that freedom, the day's concluding event replayed in my mind offering fully the effects of the opened wound, bleeding and raw. Recently read passages from my new favorite contemporary philosophical author, Mark Nepo, reminded me to feel these moments fully. And so I did. This, in tandem with my return to a yoga practice, had opened me to locating visceral experiences happening inside my body.

I could feel the pain, the hurt, so intensely as it first circled the area around my heart, taking a route traveling down the path along the spine, through the pelvis, reaching even further down the legs, and coming to rest at a tingling in my toes. By my own calculations about 80% of my body was fully engaged in the feelings of emotional pain—all at the same time. Connected and unyielding, heart to toes.

With a single blink of my eyes, the dam broke. In the very next moment, what laid before me, in the expanse of the sky was an unobstructed sunset in the making. I could feel my soul switching its gears, moving past the pain and into appreciation for the beautiful gift of nature. These words, like a yogi's mantra chanting in my mind, "This is real. This is the only thing that is real. Thank you." The feelings of emotion in this raw and open state, as I breathed in the expanse of sky and beauty of color, allowed the eyes of my soul to see beyond the pain of the previous moment.

I could feel the expression of joy in this moment so intensely as it first circled the area of my heart, taking a route traveling down the path along the spine, through the pelvis, reaching even further down the legs, and coming to rest at a tingling in my toes. Sound familiar? Yes! If I may answer my own question. The same physical experience of deeply rooted emotions around hurt, located in the depths my heart connected to the bottom of my toes, were exactly what I had experienced in the raw moment of appreciating beauty.

The lines completely blurred between beauty and pain. The heart-to-sole channels cracked open wide. The path of pain and fresh wound followed directly by the healing bandage of beauty. Perhaps it was in that order, or maybe it was happening simultaneously, I'm no longer sure.

What I do know or witnessed for myself is, created through beauty or pain, the sensations were the same. And with that, I believe I have found a tool for future healing. When the heart is broken open there exists an open portal of opportunity to seek the bounty of beauty that surrounds us, to sooth the wound when broken open or anew.

Consider this...it might just work for you too.

When Worlds Almost Collide

At a large and very busy intersection in San Diego, in the far left-turn lane, I rolled to a stop on a green arrow, my left turn preempted by the blaring sounds and rotating lights of an emergency vehicle. It was coming from the perpendicular direction. I could see the ambulance struggling to make its way through the congested traffic. As a former wife of a firefighter, I am hyper-aware and sensitive to these moments. I know what I am supposed to do. In this case, be still and don't get in their way. There was nowhere to go but forward. That would have put me directly in their path. It was also hard to gauge how long it would take for them to break through. My decision to stay put at a green arrow was solid.

Behind me, cars were honking for me to move. From their vantage point they couldn't see what I saw. The guy behind me, whom I could see him through my rear view mirror, was frantically waving me on. Another man pulled up alongside me, window down, shouting with animated pointing finger, "Go, go go!" What he didn't see either was the ambulance coming from his blinded direction.

 What I couldn't see, but was now coming into the chaotic script, was a second ambulance in my left-turn lane, also in code three (both lights and sirens) some three or four cars back. It was a strange time- and space-altering moment, as I watched this scene play out like a bad conversation. The involved parties unable to see or understand the other's point of view or perspective. In reflection, this event reminded me of the Academy Award winning movie "Crash." A collision of lives, scenes and points of view, vignetted brilliantly on the big screen. This however, was playing out in real-time and in my life.

Ambulance #1, as I will call it, finally made its way through, I followed quickly behind, pulling over safely to the right to allow ambulance #2 free passage, each on its way to the needed. I was left shaken by the thought of what could have happened with any given edit to the situation and the frustration of not being able to communicate to those behind me what was happening outside their range of site. Especially the guy passing me with finger pointing and shouting, "Go, go go!" He never saw the ambulance my action was responding to. I imagine he was thinking something along the lines of "Women drivers!" More questions swirling around the after math in my mind. Did the two ambulance drivers know they were there competing for control of the intersection and civilian obedience? Did those behind me get that ‘Aha!’ moment when they saw what I had been waiting for? Did the "Go, go, go!" guy long ahead of the chaos ultimately pull over to the right with both ambulances screaming free from the tangled mess? All questions remain unanswered.

Minutes rendered in slow motion with moments of panic and secondary reactions to the panic—not having the benefit of the whole picture in wide screen, or hovering above the tangled conversation at the intersection like a bird.

The chaos did not end in a physical collision, but one more transparent in nature and one for the books of how situations can go strangely awry—depending on your point of view, presence and participation in the moment.

Staying grounded amidst the chaos, to the truths that played out before me. It served everyone well today, at the very least, where worlds almost collided during one intersection of life.

And I wonder how many times this plays out in our own lives, partial views, limited experience, narrow perspectives – all getting in the way of our fuller, bigger-picture view of any given situation. Ever happen to you?

Heart Rush

During the 23rd consecutive day of yoga, I experienced something there that I have felt at other times and places, and perhaps because it didn't come during a time of stillness, it came and went in less than a momentary notice. It didn't hang with brilliance and longevity like the twinkling star waiting to be named, dangling above in the dark sky of night.

The front of my heart in a posture hovering above the grounded earth, the back side open, soft and vulnerable, greeting the sky. In stillness for a period of time, long enough to bring about change, to open barricaded channels built over time and experience.

What I speak of, the thing I have named, is an inexplicable feeling, like a wave of warmth and goodness blanketing the soul. A brief encounter with what I believe to be our true nature, and it came to me in a "heart rush." Those were the two words that came to me, unsolicited, magically popping into my head. The wakeless feelings of pure joy and connection happened twice during my practice. The gratuitous naming both a blessing and a curse. The blessing, honoring it with a name in recognition and appreciation. The curse, giving it a name and wondering if it will visit me again.

Every day on the yoga mat brings with it a new experience, just like the rhythms of our lives. Some days nothing but bliss and ease, other days the chaos of the mind can only simmer down to a whisper. The body bending into postures promoting delicious releases of histories in pain and dis-ease, and gloriously, like this day, in an unexpected and welcome moment, a "heart rush."

Dedicated to my teacher Cindy Angelina Shaw, who provides the safe and loving environment for release, transformation and love.

Namaste.

Children at Play

It was a random weekday night, with a spontaneous invitation to dine out in a nice (without being stuffy) French restaurant. The feel of the decor, a reminder of three weeks in Paris seven years ago. White candles in candelabras dripping wax, settling happily at the silver bases with an occasional spill onto the tables. Stone walls, dimmed lights and tables lined with their best white—butcher paper.

With dinner under wraps and a few more sips of wine to be savored, this was the perfect time to use the paper, lining the table, to toss out a few ideas for issues of great importance. Some of the best ideas have been worked out on a paper napkin in a bar, you know?

With business behind us, and pen in hand a doodle happened. I think it was a circle, it's hard to remember now and not really important. What is important is the sequence of events that happened next.

One piece of paper, one pen and two adults. A circle drawn, calling of course for a happy face. The pen and ink rendering grew from there. The pen being passed from one to the other, politely taking turns, giggling like little kids at what the other had just contributed.

Just plain silliness! As the scene played out, we were no longer aware of our surroundings, or who was watching. An unadulterated and unplanned curriculum of cooperation and collaboration. One stroke of the pen building upon the other. Completely without ego and waiting to see, with the energy of "little-kid" excitement, what the other was going to lay down next. Insert giggling after each one's turn. No one trying to outdo the other. An exercise in co-creation. If only this is how adults behaved all of the time.

We left that drawing behind on the table that night (not without first taking a picture of it, of course.) Grinning and laughing at our little masterpiece as we walked out the doors of the restaurant. No need to bring it home to mom to hang on the fridge or frame it for the family wall of fame. Laughing at the thought, now that we were back in adult mode, of who would see it next and if they would laugh too. Or would it be overlooked without amusement and tossed away, to ready the table for its next diners.

Shoulders shrugged, simultaneously, in a who cares gesture. The afterthought of how a spontaneous moment, that came out of the ether, we were children at play. And quite frankly we would all be better off if we allowed ourselves to be more like that, more of that. Lessons are everywhere if we choose to see them that way.

By the way, what do you think of our masterpiece?

The Three Breaths

Breathing, an automatic response in rhythm, right along side the heart's own beat. Breathing, one of the most essential and life sustaining things that we do, that we must do. Much of the time it is taken for granted. Unlike the heart (unless you are a skilled yogi) we can guide and direct our breath. The amount of air on the intake, the length of the air streams filling the body, holding it in place for short intervals of time and even the direction of airflow inside our body.

During ninety minutes of a yin-yoga class, I experienced a very moving practice working with the deliberate and focused flow of breath. Breathing, an act so automatic that rarely gets a notice, yet we do have the option to be more fully with it.

Prāṇāyāma is a Sanskrit word meaning extension of breath. The word composed of two Sanskrit words, prāṇā, life force, and ayāma, to extend or draw out. The practice is not forced, it is without constraint or control. A deepening of awareness and appreciation for this thing called breathing. An exercise in gratitude for it.

I was guided through an experience that left me with filled with grace. Lying on the yoga mat drawing in purposeful and deep breaths, eyes closed, with the first in the series of "the three breaths" directed toward the area of the lower belly. An imaginary, in my minds-eye, triangle formed on my inside. I could see it being painted like jet streams in the sky, with solid lines at first, disappearing into thinned air. The foundational breath starting at the base of the belly, stretching and expanding out to the sides of the ribs, spiraling upward at mirrored angles to the top and center of the chest. 

A perfect triangle, drawn with equal sides in breath trails. Reversing the sequence from the chest, out toward the ribs, coming to rest at the belly base. The continued sequence of "the three breaths," happening easily with an intentional mind in cooperation with the body and spirit. Bringing to mind a clear connection to cross-cultural threes. The Trinity in Christianity—Father, son, and holy spirit. Heaven, man, and earth in Eastern Philosophy. The Triquetra of Celtic Wisdom—earth, air and water. And right there on the yoga mat, through "the three breaths", the connection between body, mind and spirit. 

What also came to mind were the three organs receiving the sequence of breaths. The stomach, the lungs and the heart, equal partners in the nurturing and sustenance of our living and breathing self. The holy trinity within the body.

Breathing is not an option, but breathing fully and deeply is.

Crickets Beneath My Pen

College ruled lines on the paper

Clean, crisp and fresh

Waiting patiently—excitedly

For the flow of fresh ink

With a sweeping motion

The writer's hand with right posture

Dances the pen to paper

Waiting for the music to begin

Only to find stillness

Beneath it are crickets

Bamboo in the Wind

In the practice of Qigong, there is a lovely sequence called "Bamboo in the Wind." Qigong, deeply rooted in Chinese philosophy, is the synchronization and alignment of breath to movement. "Bamboo in the Wind" is the gentle swaying of the body, from side to side. A movement in allowing, rather than doing. The polarity of moving in stillness.

The bamboo with its firm bond to the earth, yet yielding to the winds of challenge from any direction. An admirable quality to possess as a human being on earth.

Strong and flexible. Grounded and light. Breathing in the moment, effortlessly embracing change. The wind as refreshment, tossing old patterns of leaves down to the earth. Opening up spaces for new sprouts of growth. The wind and the bamboo, always in harmony—mutually arising.

Bamboo in the wind, a metaphor for life.


All content and photography ©2014 Lori Brookes. All rights reserved.