iPeace

We decided to get Ian his own iPod. By that I mean an MP3 playing device that he calls an iPOD in the same way we call all tissues Kleenex.

It's been less than 12 hours since we gave it to him, and maybe I am speaking a little too soon but, YAY. We've had some of the quietest car time in 4 years.

Except for when he speaks. Because he does not yet understand that because there is noise in his ears, he is shouting when he talks. But I'll take it.

Ahhhhh, the sound of silence (in the car....)

Shhhh....Be Quiet In There

The second section of Eat, Pray, Love finds the author in an ashram in India where she has gone to find G*d. Daily spiritual devotional practice that commenced at 3:30 am was part of her journey to delve deeper into spiritual practice in order to ascend to a higher level of understanding of G*d and herself. This section gave me a lot to consider, most of which that while I want to travel Europe the notion of someday going to India to spend some time deepening my understanding of life is now also very appealing. Plus, I'd do just about anything if I could learn how to get the incessant voice in my head to just shut up once in a while...

The whole reason I write this blog is so that I have someplace healthy to purge the cyclone of thoughts and ideas constantly swirling in my head in hopes that by this emetic effort I can have five minutes of peace. Maybe someone, somewhere might find something in what I write that resonates for them and helps in someway, sort of like how those dandelion puff balls just demand for children to blow them when the wind doesn't. My little ideas can spread like those seeds and at least give them a chance to germinate in the fertile soil of someone else's mind. This is one of the ways I am nudged in new directions. Its kind of a cool idea that when I read something written by a person, who in practical terms is a stranger, launches me on a new trajectory of possibilities. I say a "practical" stranger but at the same time I feel that underlying connection that we all have as the little cilia-like human projections sprung forth into Being from the same source. How much of a stranger can any of us be with that much in common? So anyway, I throw all this mind chatter dialogue out into the cosmos and it is my pure intent that it be useful somehow.

Herein lies my spiritual journey. Since my brain, or ego, never stops yapping for 5 consecutive seconds it is my purpose in life reign it in. One of the only times it does this is when I am cooking. Which may explain why 50% of my waking hours are spent in a 12 square foot space of my kitchen. Why my family calls that room a restaurant, and why I tend to make elaborate, time consuming dishes as well as most condiments all from scratch. Yes it is also because I get to use the best quality ingredients and control exactly what is in our diet, but really it is nourishment for my spirit to get some solitude from the loquacity of that inner voice.

My mind seems to need something to do all the time. There are list-making people in this world and there are non-list making people. I am non-list making person and I realize now that by not making lists I am giving my brain something to entertain itself, much like giving a dog a chew toy. It likes its chatter to be front and center making the spiritual task of "living in the present moment" that much more of a challenge. So to occupy it I give it the grocery list and let it try to remember that.

The time has come for me to find some other ways to obtain this inner sanctity that does not involve driving out to the farm to get raw, pastured milk or to the co-op to collect my whole grains, or to the farmer's market for local produce and grass fed meats. Not that I am giving up those things, but I need practice at the practice of quieting that voice. And so my intention finally manifested in the Baptiste Yoga I began attending.

I've always been envious of people who find meditative calm in exercise. Some people run. I wish, oh how I wish, I enjoyed running. I don't. It's mostly torture until its over for me. And while yes I don't enjoy the physical sensation of running, especially on pavement, the real reason I don't like it is that it doesn't make the voice stop talking. I can think about everything while I run, even with music blaring in my ears. From what's for dinner, to making mental lists, to repertorizing a homeopathy case, and to worrying about some past or future event while I run and I don't want that. I want silence. I want focus. Please, for the love of all that is good, please SHUT UP IN THERE.

Because the vigorous yoga engages my mind, I find peace there. I have to be so totally focused on what I am doing that my ego mind steps aside as I flow between a one power-giving gumby like pose to the next with occasional collapses into child's pose as I try not to pass out or throw up. During the final savasana, I am often overwhelmed as whatever emotional backlog that remains after sweating every drop of liquid from my body is purged and then I am united with the others in that glorious harmonic OM. There is no room for chatter and then after an hour and a half of this relative solitude, I find bliss. Quiet, in-the-moment-bliss has been finding its way into more and more of my day outside of class. As I am learning to control that beast within, my energy is shifting. I find myself smiling more, engaging in conversation with strangers more, and most importantly having patience and enjoying Ian more. One line in Eat Pray Love suggests to serve G*d is very simple. Just notice who you love and every loving act you bestow on that person is in service to Him. Because they are Him. I always knew that mothering was G*d's work, but reading it this way helped cement that idea. I am serving my inner fountain of peace and nurturing my spirit when I am making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or folding underwear. Who knew? It helps to find meaning in the menial.

So in the book, when Liz traveled to India in search of G*d and so graciously decided to write about it openly, I was given these revelations. They came to me at 5:30 in the morning, were hastily scribbled out in a nearby notebook, and consequently transcribed here for whomever or no one on earth to read. Now that everything my mind had to say before dawn has been released to the universe maybe it will take a break for a bit so I can be present for the rest of my day.

In Pursuit of Pleasure

I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It is the autobiographical journey of the author's healing process after a nasty divorce. She embarks on a journey to find joy, to find G*d and to find herself, which as it turns out, is all essentially the same thing. The book is divided into 3 parts as she spends 1 year traveling to three different countries. Part 1 documents her pursuit of pleasure.

Following the divorce she decided she wanted to experience a culture that values taking pleasure in life. Because she wants to learn Italian, for no other reason other than the sound of it being spoken is music to her ears, her first stop is Rome. She spends 4 months in Italy, most of it in Rome, relishing in all the beauty that it has to offer through art, language, people and mostly food. To this, I can relate.

So many moments while reading this book remind me of why I loved Paris as much as I did. Europeans seem to understand that one path to G*d is to relish in all that is enjoyable of the physical world. It's in the architecture. It's in the art. It's in the music, the food, the language, the people. I've come to understand now that the reason these things are so moving is because the creation of these things has come directly from G*d through the people creating them. The artists, musicians, chefs, and architects find inspiration and then create beauty doing something they love and, as a by-product, foster a society capable of appreciating it. There is a certain "wholeness" to the experience that fills you up and satiates at every level.

We all have (or should have) those special moments in our life when all is right and good with-in and with-out and the beauty of a place or experience brings you that moment of peace and joy that can not be described as anything other than holy. For me, one of these moments occurred on our honeymoon, feeling totally in love with my new husband and exploring a new place together. One late afternoon in May while exploring Yosemite National Park we drove the Tioga Pass. At the time, I did not have the experience or words to adequately capture that experience. The quiet of the long, uninhabited road winding through the

mountains panoramic view after exquisite panoramic view of snow capped mountains, crystal clear lakes, and waterfalls. The sun setting gave everything a changing palette of colors; reds, oranges, blues, purples as day settled into dusk. It was Magestic. It was Him. It was a glimpse at how gloriously this world was created and all that beauty was given to me to reflect back at me all the peace and beauty I was feeling inside being a happy newlywed. I was given that moment at a time when I could most appreciate it, and therein lies the wisdom of All-That-Is.

The same internal feeling of peace was within me when I was in Paris. Now I know, nothing could be more different from mountain tops and rolling vistas than churches and old buildings but the beauty was of the same caliber. The only difference was that man was the artist instead of nature, but clearly G*d was working here too. This time the art came through man's hands instead of his own. The awe it inspired, for me, was much the same. The humans that create these works of art from the paintings to the architecture of the Louvre, to the caramel mille fuille (which while eating it can only be described as a transcendent experience) are able to do this because when in the act of creating the artists are free of their own "stuff." The insufferable mind chatter, the emotional turmoil, and the social trivialness of everyday life. When all that stuff is momentarily silenced and we do whatever it is that makes us able to turn all the noise off, that is when we know we are doing divine work. When we are answering our calling. That is when beauty comes through in what is created and it is perceived as such when received by others.

If Europeans understand and appreciate the value of pleasure and joy, what does that mean for our immature culture? Where capitalism is the name of the game and nothing is as important as the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Joy is stripped from the equation. For example, someone finds a plant in some remote forest that cures an ailment. Instead of finding a way to grow the plant to serve the needs of people in a way that honors the environment, the people it is to help, and the plant in its Wholeness as given, containing both the active chemicals and the intangible Is-ness of its being, our culture values stripping it down to its chemical components. We determine which component is the most active on the worst symptom of the ailment and then mass produce it in a laboratory with the ultimate endgame of making money, usually polluting or raping the environment at some or multiple points in the process. The intent is not pure. It is not in truly in service to others, and therefore not in service to G*d or ourselves. Much of this work is done by overworked, underpaid employees who do not bring joy and love to their work but by people who just need to keep running in the hamster wheel in service of the all mighty dollar, and usually most of that dollar is going to someone else. And this happens not just in medicine, but in the food industry as well if we consider the industrial fractionation of mass produced, chemical ridden, genetically modified corn and soy. Food isn't presented in Wholeness in our society, created with love from Fruits of the Earth. It is largely mass produced for the ultimate goal of the financial gain of few. Sure the research as been done to know exactly which nutrients our bodies should use to operate on a mechanical level and then we think we feed ourselves well with "isolated soy protein" shakes and bars. With beakless chickens fed corn waste product wallowing in their own feces and never seeing daylight. All generously laden with a dose of high fructose corn syrup, of course. We've removed the beauty. We've removed nature and that which can be created from nature. We've removed the pleasure at every step on the path. We've removed joy. We've also removed that which feeds our life force and explains why we have a society of malnourished, yet obese, people suffering all manner of disease. It's all so very utilitarian here where very little is done purely for the beauty and love and pleasure of doing or experiencing and with the goal of being of service to others as well as our own spirit.

Because, I have to say when sitting in a park in Paris, in front of a fountain, surrounded by old stone buildings adorn with statues, terraces dripping with flowers of every color, eating the best tasting, freshest food, and basking in the sunshine under the blue sky (with the love of my life of course), I felt every bit as close to G*d as I did on that mountain top. The beauty of both places was enough to move me to tears. Of Joy.

Next: Part 2 India- The Pursuit of Divinity