Day 69
Timer on…
Well, we made it…Gus, Lap Dog, and myself…we made it to the end of the journey…
I found the meanings of rituals are really quite practical. You create a costume that makes sense for the ritual. You create a hair-do that, again, makes sense for the ritual. You clean the floor, so it won’t annoy you during the practice. You create things to focus on (pictures, candles, symbolic talismans) to distract the mind from the pain. Rituals clean the pain. Pain…is to be absorbed and we add rituals to make the picture, the person, the action…seem prettier because the pain is not pretty.
I have learned that it is okay to absorb the mourning…into love…
I have learned that certain asanas are hard, and others are life-long journeys…In may case Natarajasana (The Dancer). And…maybe…there is a life lesson in that one pose…maybe I am always to dance…
I have learned that writing everyday makes me think everything I write is cliché and stupid, and this is why I never wrote in the first place…
I learned that doing the same thing day after day, is hard…
I learned that I miss my Dad…I just miss him…and I am angry everyday that I don’t have him anymore…but all that missing and anger have to be absorbed, so that I can honor his life…by continuing to live…
I have learned that love is hard…
I have learned that a Neti Pot daily is very helpful to my allergies, and, (maybe) it is helpful for my dysphonia…at least…I hope so…
I have learned that staring at a candle is kind of cool…especially at the end of a practice…it allows the practice to absorb and settle…
I have learned that I need to learn how to turn death into love…and after 69 Days…I still don’t know how to do that.
I have learned that my Dogs are very understanding of my craziness.
I have learned that I am alone, a lot, and I might never have done something like this, if I wasn’t…
I have learned that by focusing on the death of one person…other people, who have died, or are dying…show up, too…uninvited, but…there, nonetheless, (almost) asking to come to the ritual, as well.
Diane Ackerman’s THE NATURAL HISTORY OF LOVE: “Love. What a small word e use for an idea so immense and powerful it has altered the flow of history, calmed monsters, kindled works of art, cheered the forlorn, turned tough guys to mush, consoled the enslaved, driven strong women mad, glorified the humble, fueled national scandals, bankrupted robber barons, and made mincemeat of kings. How can love’s spaciousness be conveyed in the narrow confines of one syllable? If we search for the source of the word, we find a history vague and confusing, stretching back to the Sanskrit lubhyati (“he desires”). I’m sure the etymology rambles back much farther than that, to a one-syllable word heavy as a heartbeat. Love is an ancient delirium, a desire older than civilization, with taproots stretching deep into dark and mysterious days.”
My journey was utilizing the Sanskrit ritual to prepare one for meditation…which has brought me to lubhyati (“he desires”)…love…”he desires” to still be living…so I will have to…
Timer on…
Well, we made it…Gus, Lap Dog, and myself…we made it to the end of the journey…
I found the meanings of rituals are really quite practical. You create a costume that makes sense for the ritual. You create a hair-do that, again, makes sense for the ritual. You clean the floor, so it won’t annoy you during the practice. You create things to focus on (pictures, candles, symbolic talismans) to distract the mind from the pain. Rituals clean the pain. Pain…is to be absorbed and we add rituals to make the picture, the person, the action…seem prettier because the pain is not pretty.
I have learned that it is okay to absorb the mourning…into love…
I have learned that certain asanas are hard, and others are life-long journeys…In may case Natarajasana (The Dancer). And…maybe…there is a life lesson in that one pose…maybe I am always to dance…
I have learned that writing everyday makes me think everything I write is cliché and stupid, and this is why I never wrote in the first place…
I learned that doing the same thing day after day, is hard…
I learned that I miss my Dad…I just miss him…and I am angry everyday that I don’t have him anymore…but all that missing and anger have to be absorbed, so that I can honor his life…by continuing to live…
I have learned that love is hard…
I have learned that a Neti Pot daily is very helpful to my allergies, and, (maybe) it is helpful for my dysphonia…at least…I hope so…
I have learned that staring at a candle is kind of cool…especially at the end of a practice…it allows the practice to absorb and settle…
I have learned that I need to learn how to turn death into love…and after 69 Days…I still don’t know how to do that.
I have learned that my Dogs are very understanding of my craziness.
I have learned that I am alone, a lot, and I might never have done something like this, if I wasn’t…
I have learned that by focusing on the death of one person…other people, who have died, or are dying…show up, too…uninvited, but…there, nonetheless, (almost) asking to come to the ritual, as well.
Diane Ackerman’s THE NATURAL HISTORY OF LOVE: “Love. What a small word e use for an idea so immense and powerful it has altered the flow of history, calmed monsters, kindled works of art, cheered the forlorn, turned tough guys to mush, consoled the enslaved, driven strong women mad, glorified the humble, fueled national scandals, bankrupted robber barons, and made mincemeat of kings. How can love’s spaciousness be conveyed in the narrow confines of one syllable? If we search for the source of the word, we find a history vague and confusing, stretching back to the Sanskrit lubhyati (“he desires”). I’m sure the etymology rambles back much farther than that, to a one-syllable word heavy as a heartbeat. Love is an ancient delirium, a desire older than civilization, with taproots stretching deep into dark and mysterious days.”
My journey was utilizing the Sanskrit ritual to prepare one for meditation…which has brought me to lubhyati (“he desires”)…love…”he desires” to still be living…so I will have to…