The Vulnerable Truth

You’ve seen it all when you’ve seen a Thai monk riding a jack hammer and breaking concrete in his orange robes…mindfully.

My 10-day stay at Wat Rom Poeng near Chiang Mai, Thailand was a great journey of introspection, insight and mindfullness traps.  And with most journeys of this type it began with massive resistance, for we often resist that which could change us most.  First I resisted the lack of structure and guidance, the rituals and mandatory offerings of lotus petals and incense, and later when instructions were given I resisted the lack of freedom and expression, and the lack of connection.  All were simply my mind resisting, looking for a way to avoid the simple practice that had been given – Be Mindful.

For in that mindfulness, the ego-mind was slowly being revealed, exposed and made vulnerable to awareness.  For 9-10 hours a day I sat cultivating awareness and observing my thoughts, my sensations, my breath, and my identifications.  The monastery offered plenty of opportunities for mindfullness – from the mangoes that dropped like canons from the trees, to slippery door mats, white clothing and colorful food, low doors, and the foreign liason monk who consistently reminded us of our practice with the words, “knowing, knowing, knowing…”

In my meditations, I watched the speed of my mind to label sounds and sensations as they hit my ears and skin.  I heard construction in the background.  I felt the wind of a fan or the sting of a mosquito.  It all felt real to me…until I actually posed the question – “What is Real?”

It came like a lightning bolt slashing through my mind –  the realization that maybe it wasn’t construction, maybe it wasn’t a mosquito,  and maybe the pain I felt in my low back from sitting wasn’t really “pain” at all.  For all these things were labels my mind used to categorize and later evaluate from, deciding whether this or that was good or bad.

In asking the question, “What is real?”, I stopped the mental process of evaluation and labeling, and simply recognized that hearing had occurred, that touch had occurred.

I opened my eyes and began to walk around the monastery, unable to hold back a smile that recognized now that seeing was occuring, and not of anything, but of everything.  The labeling caused things to separate, be divided, but when you just recognized seeing, than you also recognized the Beauty of it all together.

I could feel my heart radiating just as brightly as my smile…for again now feeling everything at once as one instead of the division of this interpretation of touch here and that interpretation of touch there, brought a sense of connection of love.  For love is the essence of connection, the bond that ties it all.

Each step I took flowed forth from me as if my feet were being carried and placed, no longer controlled by muscle, but instead dancing with the elements.  And here I experienced grace, surrender, and peace.

So, my discovery in mindful practice is that the mind will find label and explanation for the expressions of life, but the reality beneath it all is a wholeness we call beauty, a connection we call love, and an experience we call grace.

“Knowing, knowing, knowing….”

Insights of a Silent Nomad

I cannot imagine myself a single nationality; a citizen of only one culture and country anymore, for I have traveled through so many with curious eyes. The wind has carried me from California suburbs to Mayan ruins to the Great Wall of China; gelato in Italy, a war in Iraq, fire dancing in the South Pacific, to the cuisine of Thailand, and finally the luxury of Bali.

At so many borders I silently watched my passport get stamped as I walked across imaginary lines into busy streets of unfamiliar faces, currency changes, and new languages; my own language remaining the same…internal.

A few months into traveling and so much had come up from the depths and shadows of my internal mind, that I yearned for a space to process it all.  Thus, from Cambodia to Malaysia to Indonesia I fell silent, letting the canvas of my vocal expression whisper words only in my mind and in that silent practice the world around me began to change.  First, it was a recognition of something that had begun to travel with me.

Here, on the Asian continent, along the backpacker trail, where Tourism fuels the economy, and taxi drivers yell for my commission, merchants offer me trinkets for triple their value, and officials create reasons for bribery, a fog had begun to descend around me.  It was resentment.  I was frustrated at the abuse and attitude of “taking” that had become second nature to the street peddlers.

In those first few days of silence my practice created a space in which I could observe my surroundings without immediately reacting to them.  I saw the taxi drivers, who sat all day in their small cab sweating in the sun, hoping beyond their discomfort that I or another would give them the opportunity to serve.  I saw the merchants who painstakingly arranged their tables and delicately displayed their crafts to a rush of foreign faces who often missed the beauty of their artwork.  I saw the officials who had lost themselves in corruption because they too had become full of resent and frustration from seeing visitors take of their land without gratitude or return.

Yes, my silence became an art of seeing Beauty, for it showed me the alchemy of attitudes; it let me change perspective.  I reminded myself of the practice to “give before it can be taken”.  What might happen when we offer more than is being asked for?  Greed turns to gratitude. The vendor offers me a second pair of pants for free, the taxi insists on waiting and giving me a return trip with no additional charge.  When we approach others with the energy of giving, we are met with that same energy.  When we approach them, with the energy of taking (what’s the best deal I can get), we are met with the same.
When I arrived to Bali I began to speak again.  I had been eight days in silence.  From the airport a taxi had been arranged for me, and I was taken to the city of Ubud, almost an hour away.  The world became loud again.   The streets felt crowded, and my driver’s friendly questions were an intrusive distraction.  I found myself slipping back into silence, only this time there was a new reason to it.  I was escaping.

The following morning, I went to a popular Café and took residence in a corner booth.  I sat there; silently observing people as they came and went.  And when a young Romanian woman entered, my eyes widened.  She caught my gaze, and many minutes later, after glancing at each other from across the room and pretending we didn’t want to talk to each other, we found ourselves sitting together at the same table actively engaged in a conversation of scratch paper and scribbles.  For more than an hour we conversed like this, both of us writing small notes to one another from across the table.  Finally, she wrote, “It’s a convenient shield this silence of yours.  It lets you choose when you are willing to speak your truth in the world.”

Her comment stung, for it was true.  And so, cautiously, I began to speak again.  I became aware of how much opportunity for authentic connection we lose because we choose to be silent about our truth in each present moment.  We tell ourselves, that our feelings, opinions, and intuitions of that moment are unimportant, insignificant, or won’t be received well.  And yet, the fact is…it is our truth in that moment, and anything else expressed or not expressed is inauthentic and creates a separation.

Even when we are speaking, there is always a part of us that remains silent, and quite often that is the authentic part, the one that expresses truth without filtration.  What secret vulnerability does it hide?  What excuses does it bribe us with to keep quiet?
Leave no mystery to the fullness of who you are.  Let that silent part of you that holds the truth of all your beauty speak out, for only then can you really connect with the world and with the wholeness of yourself.

Be in silence to discover the Beauty within, and when you have found it, speak, express…and connect.