Recently, I learned of the unexpected death of a colleague. In addition to grieving, I’m learning a lot about intimacy.
So often when I think about intimacy, it’s in the context of a romantic relationship, but the truth is, intimacy is not confined to a romantic partner. Real intimacy is like unzipping yourself and displaying your insides, and that can be done with anyone, something I’ve witnessed in this process.
Mindset. It’s become somewhat of a buzzword. We say things like, “I wasn’t in the right mindset to do X,” or “I want to change my mindset,” but what do we really mean when we use the term? Based on the way we speak about mindset, apparently one’s mindset has a significant effect on outcomes in life. Precisely. Mindset is powerful.
Death is no more than the “off” interval of existence, and in that it is nothing to be afraid of. If we might understand this fully, the trajectory of our lives will be profoundly altered. To abide in this “death sense” is to live with power.
I asked a friend the other day how he maintains hope and faith when the whole world seems to have gone mad, and he told me he views life as a drama – there will be happy parts and sad parts and scary parts. He doesn’t expect life to be a smooth ride where nothing happens.
He also told me a particular scene that we find distasteful at the time could be pivotal to the story – in hindsight we may find certain actions were crucial.
“Look past your thoughts, so you may drink the pure nectar of This Moment.”
- Rumi
Yogic thought purports the importance of being mindfully in the present moment, whether in action or in thought. This is a constant struggle in life, practicing presence. Often we hear phrases like “live in the moment,” “be in the present,” and “do it now.” While in a yoga practice, we “breathe into the present moment,” or hear some semblance of: “leave your day at the door, and bring your heart to the mat.”
We often hear the phrases “the sky’s the limit” or “dream big,” but how often do we actually pursue those dreams? The reality is that many people have big dreams in the back of their minds, but they think their dreams are too unrealistic or unfeasible to even take seriously. As a result, the majority of people settle for a career or a way of life that they may not particularly love, but that allows them to live comfortably and pay the bills.
In India, temples are constructed with intention and obvious care utilizing the Science of Dwelling known as Vastu Shastra. The way the temples are built is meant to both reflect and inspire connection to the One Divine Source of creation as it also manifests within each person. By silently emitting a frequency and sacred geometry of balanced practical life merged with liberation, the Hindu temple is the perfect example of how to construct your life in alignment with universal balance.
Human civilization relies heavily and increasingly on technology in almost all areas of life. We accept the technological support as the ultimate solution for all the problems of humanity (and the world) - if we go just far enough. Granted, technology makes things easier for us, even on a private plane. For example, it allows people all over the world to be connected in ways that would otherwise be impossible, and for that I am very grateful. Many things would not be possible for us without technological support. But have we not perhaps lost the big picture out of our sight?
Recently, I stumbled upon a poem that struck me. Technically, it isn’t quite a poem, but just a note, jotted beside a sketch in a book of poems my mother gave me, years ago. Now, the book—Leonard Cohen’s, The Book of Longing—is tattered. Its pages are dog-eared and inked with my own musings, and the note my mom wrote me on the backside of the front cover has long since faded.
Down the stairs of my condominium and across Campus Drive, I walk along Leona Canyon Open Space Preserve. I encounter an expanse of wild radish and California golden poppies. Below, there’s a culvert and a pond lined in cattails, home to a family of mallards whose ducklings hide behind the rushes. I continue down a slope alongside a stream flowing out toward Mills College, and eventually, to the bay.