The 4 Reminders

Last week, I had the opportunity to be with a loved one and her family while they experienced the death of their mother and wife. It was an incredibly sad but also very courageous and natural process, and it confronted me, not surprisingly, with death.

All kinds of things speed up, reach a zenith and settle when death is in our faces. My friend was able to put aside pain and resentment she felt towards her mother and her family, and replaced it with nothing but love and a tender feeling of sadness and closure. This probably wouldn’t have happened, or at least not so quickly, otherwise.

This is what death teaches us, the ones granted a few more years; that life is precious and it is short. Death will come and it will come sooner than we think. It puts yesterday’s frustration about our traffic jam into perspective.

With impermanence as their ‘religion’, Buddhists are very aware of the clock that is ticking away, bringing us closer and closer to the moment of our death. It is often said in Buddhist traditions that if we were aware of the preciousness of our human life, we would practice (meditation is this sense, but replace this with being awake, loving, painting, dancing, enjoying if it resonates with you) as if our hair was on fire! And interesting article on time running out and the possibility of awakening that that reality brings can be found here

Another traditional Buddhist way to awaken to our life, not just in the face of death but continuously, is called ‘the four reminders’. These are, as the name suggests, four reminders of things we tend to forget too easily. I have translated them freely; (you can find more traditional interpretations here)

1.    The preciousness of our human life.
Being alive, having senses to connect and touch this utterly mystical experience we call life is amazing. To be able to love and be loved, to care, to cry and to laugh, to dance and to breathe is incredibly precious.
2.    The reality of death and impermanence.
Death is real. Nothing lasts. Although we live like we don’t have any deadlines; we do. Big time. Our bodies will die, we will be forgotten and fade away.
3.    Karma: the law of cause and effect.
Every act, thought, intention you generate sets something else in motion, it leaves a trace. There is no time off from natural laws. As Einstein’s definition of insanity goes; keep on doing the same thing and expecting different results. So prepare to reap what you sow.
4.    The uselessness of samsara.
Spending your life trying to avoid pain and hold on to pleasure will not work and only results in suffering.  This is a hard one maybe, but really, the “Me-plan” as Sakyong Mipham calls it just doesn’t work. It’s like bringing water to the sea.

Remind yourself of these facts of life before you are forced to, and they will make your life more meaningful and more able to be of service to those around you.

Clashing Kleshas

On a full moon like today, things can get pretty intense. It’s statistically proven that there are more accidents and births when the moon is full, and a lot of people feel their own emotional squeeze on days like today. Amen.

Even without full moons, our emotions can have the tendency to wash us over, blinding our sight, clogging our minds and freezing our hearts. This week I picked up some interesting and practical insights on how to work with intense and paralyzing emotions (that Buddhist call Kleshas, read an interesting article in the Buddhaharma to learn more).

I picked this up from none other than His Holiness the Dalai Lama, who I had the chance to visit this week in Amsterdam. As you may know, he is a very practical guy, with an almost scientifical emphasis on logic and reason. As he pointed out so clearly, focusing your strong emotion, say anger, on one point, be it a person, situation or whatever, is not very logic and true. There always is a great variety of causes and different storylines and plots that led up to the event that causes you to be in the grip of anger, jealousy or heartbreak. It does not stand on its own, as the strong emotion implies. If we take a step back and investigate all these aspects that trigger the volcanic emotional outburst, we get a more real and truthful view on our current state of mind. We gain insight on ourselves and hey, best yet, the emotion will release its chocking grip on us.

Now this doesn’t imply repressing or denying the vividness of the emotional experience. Buddhists sometimes get stereotyped as striving to be un-emotional. Yet on the contrary; the idea is to experience our emotions completely; to explore them, see what it is made up of, all the stuff on the bottom and the sides, really investigate them. Oddly enough, when we kindly investigate our most intense emotions, they tend to reduce in intensity and the open us up rather than close us down.

When we are out of the ‘freak out zone’ of our emotional experience, we can then work with whatever is present. But investigate first. See what is really going on behind all the intensity. Let your emotional focus be wide, or as my yoga teacher Nikki said this week during class; ‘let there be space in your heart and freedom in your mind.’ Now that’s a good one on a full moon.

Growing Pains

Honestly, I’ve never been big on the “everything happens for a reason” vibe. Lately however, I’m surprised how life just can seem to make sense. Or, from a more scholarly perspective; how we as humans are able to put sense into our lives. Either way you look at it; life can be a meaningful experience.

It takes some effort though, from our part. We can’t just sit around, waiting for our lives to make sense. We cannot turn it into a project either, however. There’s an art to living life in a way that is meaningful. From what I’ve learned, this art has nothing to do with getting what you want and it has everything to do with being willing to just show up for your life. In a way it’s easy, if you can let go of the whole B.S. phase.

The person that is willing to show up, to be available for the nature of reality as it is, not as we want it to be, lives the deepest and most rich life because they include everything and not just half of their experience (the desired). When we are somehow able to move our focus beyond the investments of our ego, and into the open, wild field of our boundless spirits, we discover a strength that continuously amazes me. This is the process of transformation; moving from a narrow to a bigger perspective.

One of my dearest friends left a voicemail today telling me she having ‘growing pains’, but was doing very well in the big perspective. I loved the way she put that, because make no mistake about it; if you are on any path that has heart, that will transform you to someone so much  juicier than you ever imagined, you will have growing pains accordingly.

But here’s the thing. Don’t get stuck on the growing pains. If you connect with what’s behind them, be it freedom, healing, transformation, all the Really Good Stuff, they will not go away but they will be put into perspective. The stretch marks on your heart only beautify it.

Knots

So often we are tied up in knots. Most of the time, we don’t realize how we have been feeding a dysfunctional habit or thought about ourselves, and slowly, over the years, these storylines turn up in our bodies and minds as knots. We recognize them as pain, resistance, basically; as the places that scare us. We tied most of our knots ourselves, by mistaking our interpretation of reality for reality itself.  Like Houdini’s, every now and then we have to work our way out of those knots.

The knots manifest in our bodies on the deepest energetic level. In several yogic traditions, as well as Tibetan schools of Buddhism, the infrastructure of this energetic body is made up of something called nadis, think of them as highways in your body. There are said to be 72.000 nadis in the human body, consisting of main highways (through the vertebrae and two on either side of the spine) and a multitude of smaller highways. The knots go in the nadis, causing traffic jams and irritation to the system.

I have been working with my own knots last week in two ways that I found helpful. First and foremost, breathing, pranayama exercises are known to unclog your nadis. I have been breathing deep, deeper than usual in some of my yoga classes (thank you Nikki!) and it’s amazing to feel what happens. There’s so much wisdom about breathing, you don’t have to be a yogi to know that ‘taking a deep breath’ is wholesome. So breathe, deep, and this alone will show you where your knots are. Then breathe more and gradually something will shift. Some great, ancient practices can be found through the Yoga Journal website.

Yesterday evening I’ve had the most wonderful, nadi-cleansing experience; I went to a sound bowl concert. Three people rang gongs put on our chests and bellies, sang mantra’s, and basically used every kind of instrument that vibrated, chimed, rang and ratteled those knots right out of your system. It was amazing. I didn’t feel so humming since my drug days! Aside from the thrill, it is deeply, deeply healing. After a while in the session, I was able to go back to the moments when my past self created a knot, untie it and replace it with love. I was able to do this not only for my past and present self, but also my future self. Afterwards we made the same vibrations with our bodies by singing mantra’s. It was a truly transforming and I thank my New Age brothers and sisters for organizing this! There’s probably this kind of activity going on where you live too, and I can highly recommend it. For those interested; I went to a group called Narayana, that play once every two months in Utrecht.

Sending high and loving vibrations to your knots ;D
Geertje

Take it Slow

First of all, my gratitude goes out to everyone, known and unknown, who reacted so generously and compassionately to my recent blog posts. You made me feel not alone and freakish!

So this week I’ll keep it light and share some of the inspiration. Who inspired you today?

I came across a man who I have been seeing for at least a few years now, but who never entered my system until today. It’s an old man who has a small community garden near my house, where I walk my dog Eddie. He goes to his garden EVERY day, it seems, no matter what weather. He uses his walking support (rollator, in dutch) to get to and from his garden and when he does he is completely bend over, so your natural reaction to seeing him is thinking that here is someone who is actually walking their last walk.

Today I came across him and he had a little radio merrily playing on his walking support. We had a brief encounter where we exchanged greetings and for some reason his complete sense of well being and contentment overwhelmed me. He seemed so whole, as if he quietly discovered some secret we are all running away from. He reminded me that inspiration comes in many shapes and that slowing down is somehow essential to open to our lives and be inspired.

Actually, my other big inspiration this week, wrote a song about this! I visited a concert of the Scandanevian singer Ane Brun, who sang

‘Take it Slow’
(you can actually hear me and my friend Mandy in the background…)

And while your at it, check out another video of this wildly talented singer and her flamboyant entourage:

‘Changing of the Seasons’

If you are completely in love with her by now, as I am, go on and buy her whole CD because you simply must treat yourself to this piece of heaven:
Dutchies go here,

everyone else, go here

Lastly, I love using wallpapers to encourage me through different times and themes. For example, I now have this Frida Kahlo’s painting on my desktop -for reasons quite obvious if you have been reading my blogs lately ;D –

The Two Fridas

But I am sure I will be ready to switch to one of my other favourites, SARK, pretty soon! She has a variety of free paintings available that will remind you of life’s preciousness, so go on and heal yourself with some

SARK wallpaper

I love the one that says:

You are seen
You are known
You are loved

Because I like to think that we are.

Teachers

What was said to the rose that made it open

was said to me here in my chest.

So lately I wondered, what wàs said to the rose that made it open? This beginning of one of my favourite Rumi* poems always had a certain sweet and inspiring taste to me. More recently, this taste has shifted to a rawer, richer flavor that forced me to reframe the process of opening.

If roses are anything like human beings, opening up can actually be immensely painful and terrifying. We usually see so much beauty in a flower unfolding itself, but how about the unfolding of our own hearts?

As the poem indicates, something was said to the rose, some sort of input form outside of itself that made it open. In the human case, this input usually involves a teacher. As we all know, teachers come in many, many shapes. Maybe the only influence us budding flowers can have on our teaching schedule is to prepare ourselves for this fact so that our mind is open enough to recognize a teacher even though they look like the complete opposite.

I realized this when I met my last teacher. It was nothing like the gentle unfolding of soft petals that you see all around in spring that caused my heart to open. What was said by this teacher touched upon all my fears, shattered all ground beneath me and utterly broke my heart.  A teacher can be someone who breaks you, but if it’s done from a place of love and to some extent, wisdom, we really can only be grateful since it frees us from our most claustrophobic prison: ourselves.

If we as students allow ourselves to feel the pain of our teachings but not get hooked by it, what lies before us is a life as a rose in bloom. Although that’s a temporary life, and we know that by the time of the next fall we will shed our petals and again return to the earth, we not only open to life but become part of it.

*Rumi is a 13th century Sufi mystic

Heartbreak

So what comes after the addiction and the detox I wrote about in my last blogs? Shockingly, I found out; the heartbreak. My heart broke this last weekend. Now you may find that a sentimental statement, but I am one of those people that can -the same as with falling in love- identify the exact moment, minute even, it happens. And all of us who have lived long enough to have their hearts broken one way or another know that it’s just the biggest, most vast sadness that our hearts can hold. Actually, this sadness is so great that our hearts cannot hold it, so they break. Voila.

I had the strange luck to participate in a meditation program right after my heartbreak, so I had the painful opportunity of watching my bleeding heart from REALLY UNCOMFORTABLY close by. At one point, I was sitting across a beautiful arrangement of flowers that included a branch with spring blossoms. The pure sight of it caused me to helplessly cry for a full morning because it made me so unexplainably sad; having something to do with the contrast of promise and new life when something inside of me was only busy dying. Needless to say, spring is an awful time for heartbreak.

So what the hell do we do with our broken heart? With all the strength we can muster, we surrender and freefall to the bottoms of our human heart, where there seems to be so much sadness awaiting us, and we touch it. Now this might seem poetic, but believe me, nobody, including myself, wants to go there. In fact we give anything not to go there. But to the extent that we are willing to touch and smell our messed up, snotty, bleeding broken hearts, we are connected to our humanity because to be alive means to have a broken heart a lot of the time. It is a natural and appropriate reaction to being alive.

But like warriors that are brave enough to touch even our broken hearts, we can develop strength to freefall. Touching a broken heart is not to be taken lightly and takes strength. This strength comes not from hardening ourselves, from telling ourselves to toughen up, but it comes from developing confidence; the confidence that we are completely and utterly able to be exactly who we are, where we are. By developing this kind of confidence, we become individuals that are not afraid to reach down and touch the immense sadness that too is life. More to come on ways to build up this confidence these next week (I hopefully promise myself and you) while my broken heart sings a sad song that I suspect to be older than humanity.

Detox

After the addiction comes the detox. In last week’s blog, I talked about addictions, our ‘urge to’, the physical and mental loops that we feed when the raw, naked stuff is just too uncomfortable. Addictions take the shape of habits, mental chatter, or on its most manifested level, a physical or mental urge to keep doing something over and over, to ‘go somewhere’ over and over. Usually while knowing better.

Every now and then we build up the courage to break our addictions. But do we go from being completely stuck to being completely unstuck, as Pema Chodron calls it, overnight? Of course not. We go cold turkey, we detox. I have come to see it like this: when you are feeding your addictive pattern, it’s like building a highway in your neurologic system, in your heart-brain. Karma, baby.

First we were speeding on this highway ourselves like the Fast and the Furious, now we have to pull over and see who else is driving there. Then, the shit really hits the fan since we see that all our neurosis, all our fears, and every insecurity we have ever experienced, are racing on our precious highway. Ignoring or denying its existence doesn’t help and only makes it worse. To the extent that we are willing to pull over and stand still on our neurotic highway, it will become less dangerous.

Although we will still feel that ‘urge to’ do this/feel that/think that/go there, by standing in de middle of our crazy highway, we build up the confidence and courage to not need a fix, to not seek resolution. Because, to end with Pema Chodron’s* words:

“ We don’t deserve resolution; we deserve something better than that. We deserve our birthright, which is the middle way, an open state of mind that can relax with paradox and ambiguity.”

Tell it like it is, Pema!

(* I know, it’s increasingly turning into a Pema fanclub here, I can’t help that the woman is so brilliant)

Addictions

Addictions are everywhere. Although our conventional understanding of the word ‘addiction’ is very strongly connected with substance abuse like using heroine, alcohol or cocaine, these are only extreme manifestations of the same patterns that we all have and fuel. Addictions come in all forms, on a strange intertwined level of body and mind. It’s, as Pema Chodron calls it, the urge to… do something, think something, say something. Although you know better, it’s that feeling of having to do it anyway, just because you need to. It can be very subtle, on the level of thoughts, even. It’s also very familiar, something we as humans are drawn to, making it very powerful.

I have been feeding an -mostly emotional- addictive pattern in my personal life these last months. This is how this addiction –and all the previous- works for me: I solidify some part of reality by making up all kinds of storylines, leaving no room for unconditional direct experience. I fuel the ideas about what I want and what I don’t want based on these storylines. I then go back over and over to the thoughts and fantasies that make up and surround these storylines. The waves of thoughts, “the urge to” go there, on both a practical as mental level, are very strong.

You can be fuelling an addictive pattern and know better and still do it. That’s what makes it addictive. Although it is very painful to experience, there is something crucial about addictions. If we manage to stay on the spot, to feel that urge to, we get an inside peek on how our mind works. It’s like when you forget what you wanted to say, right in the middle of a sentence (we all know that, right?) and staying with that uncomfortable feeling, where you normally run your mental database like crazy, looking for that file you’ve lost. It’s staying with that urge to pick up the phone/lash out/implode, or whatever your addiction urges you to do. If we stay with the heat underneath our addictions, they somehow very slowly transform.

Sometime I do and sometimes I don’t feed the addictive urge anyway, shortly after that. But I’m learning to feel the addictive urge to, better and better. For me it results in two things, besides having more insight in the way my mind works, namely humour and compassion. First of all, the more I see my addictive urge, the more I talk about it, the more dismantled it gets, and the more funny I find it. When I’m not in the heat of the addictive pattern, I see from a distance how crazy this pattern is, how futile, and how endearing it is really. Seeing the whole spectrum of denial, falling back, feeding the fire, waking up, having perspective and falling right back again has also given me so much more understanding in the way this part of being human works. This is the compassion part. I would not judge a friend so easily when she falls back again and again in the same pattern, relationship, habit, because I know what it’s like.

Eventually, I guess, being mindful of your addictions, seeing through them will wear them out. But it can take time. Especially when you are as stubborn minded as myself, it is only through directly experiencing what the addiction brings you –more clarity of more confusion- that it can be worn out. The only way out is through.

Great Eastern Sun

“ On a day, when the wind is perfect
the sail just needs to open
and love begins.
Today is such a day.”

I hear yogini Shiva Rea say on one of her CD’s… I realized that today really is such a day. Not only love begins, but spring has too. This year the official start of spring was connected with the ‘real’ days of spring here in Holland, which means that we have enjoyed several succulent sun filled days already, which I enjoy thoroughly!

And I’m not the only one, of course. In a slightly sun starved Holland, you can feel the entire energy of a nation change when the first rays of warmth hit our face. Our moods are less depressed, more uplifted. It reminds me of the fact that the sun, in so many traditions is such a strong spiritual element. In my meditation tradition for example, we speak of the vision of the Great Eastern Sun. It’s great because it’s fundamental, primordial, eastern because it is always rising and it’s sun because it’s warm, its clarifying, it’s inclusive.

The significance of this Great Eastern Sun is that it’s a mindset. It’s a mindset of knowing and trusting that the sun can come up every time, that in every situation there is the potential for illumination. It’s the opposite of a small setting sun mentality, a scarcity mentality of things going down, running out, a “grasping what you can while you still can” kind of thing.

These first days of spring are naturally filled with the Great Eastern Sun mentality. That is probably why we all love them so much. It’s a way of God saying that there can always be sunny days, rays of light peeking through darkness all of a sudden. There is always that potential for a rising sun, for no apparent reason, even. We can use days like these to remind us that in the climate of our mind there is that same potential for a sunny mood, for the vision of the Great Eastern Sun to break through whatever is going on. No matter how dark and cold the winters in our mind get, there is always that possibility of the sun and it’s warmth coming through, over and over again.

Wishing you a lovely spring!

Weddings and Endings

Last evening I spend several hours grazing through my bookshelf, searching for a Love Poem. More specifically, a wedding poem, as my sister is getting married this Saturday and asked me to read something during the ceremony. Coming up with something cheesy in the genre of “love is like a rose, you have to give it space to bloom, etc” isn’t hard for such an occasion, and I decided not to take that route. But at the same time, you have to please a broad audience, so you cannot go too hardcore on such an official moment.

So I did find a very suitable poem after countless hours, which of course I’m not sharing with you now, because that would ruin the surprise. But I did stumble upon a poem that struck me as so beautiful and strangely appropriate for a wedding. After all, weddings are one of the most powerful rituals of new beginning. And every new beginning, like spring following winter, is preceded by endings. Think of the wedding ritual of the father ‘giving away’ his daughter. It symbolises the end of the family construction as it was.

The following poem by 13th century Sufi mystic Jalaluddin Rumi illustrates that aspect of new beginnings, namely death and quietness. I don’t dare to read it Saturday, but I do want to share it with you:

Quietness

Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an ax to the prison wall.
Escape. Walk out
like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You’re covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest
sign that you’ve died.
Your old life was a frantic running
From silence.

The speechless full moon comes out now.

From: Rumi, The Book of Love. Translations & Commentary by Coleman Barks (HarperCollins Publishers, 2003)

Autumn Poem

Seeing the connectedness of everything opens life up and brings tremendous well-being to the phenomenal World. But this requires trust and faith.*

I read this line by Dzigar Kongtrul this morning and loved it. Some sentences show that their writer really knows what they’re talking about.  They have thought long about it and carefully picked out the words that fit some kind of message that wanted to get out. Or, and I have seen this with some more enlightened teachers, words and sentences just come out like this effortlessly, since the minds and hearts of these people are so open and vast. It’s an amazing thing to hear a very clear minded person talk. (especially if you’re as monkey minded as I am)

I also loved Dzigar Kongtrul’s words since to me they fit my autumn heart state. These last days have been absolutely gorgeous autumn days in Holland; fresh, warm, golden, melancholy days with more smells in the air than any other season.

I love autumn. I think because it’s a season that is so rich with life in all it aspects; grateful for the warm glow of summer, refreshing for its new chilly air, and of course sad, very sad because of all its endings. As always however, in the slipstream of endings are new beginnings. It’s the season where we can let go and start another part of ourselves anew. That new part is mostly the inner part. Along with coming back into our coats and scarfs, we come back into our hearts and the places in there that have been over shined during extrovert summer.

It’s the artist season, where we can let go of the things we don’t need any more. Like the leaves, we give them back to the earth where they came from. Like the trees we shed, and in the process are reminded of the connectedness of everything, which, as Kongtrul points out, does bring tremendous well-being and joy. At the same time, it’s unsure what will grow back in our hearts and minds…this is where we need the trust and faith he’s talking about.

But that’s the beauty of autumn; it makes you let go so gently, tossing in some Indian summer days to ease you into it…Trust and faith is free in autumn, so go ahead and smell it.
Warmly,
Geertje

* From: It’s up to You: The Practice of Self-Reflection on the Buddhist Path. By Dzigar Kongtrul, 2005 Shambhala Publications

Global Mala Day

Our lives are so global. This morning I ate bowl of yoghurt from Dutch cows, with pineapple from Costa Rica, grapes from South Africa and nuts from a place a don’t even know. As you can hear, I’m not the best in reducing my carbon footprint by eating only local and seasonal products… I try to ‘compensate’ by contemplating the interconnectedness of everything, with my breakfast meal as medium (all of this before 8 pm, I know).

Another great ritual of interconnectedness was last Sunday’s Global Mala Day. On the 21st  of October, the season’s transition into fall, yogi’s all over the world come together and practice 108 Sun Salutations together. ‘It’s the yoga world’s offering to further the UN International Peace Day’ according to the project’s website. The events are fund raisers for organizations that are relevant per studio.

To my delight, my home base yoga studio Yoga Moves chose Women for Women as the focus of the Global Mala Day. Since it’s one of my favourite organizations, of course I couldn’t help but join in. The days before the 21st got me increasingly anxious about my earlier commitment to 108 Sun Salutations. I’m not quite the athlete type, plus I haven’t been to a yoga class for weeks since I was so caught up in my ‘I’m raising a puppy-mode’. When I heard that some of the yoga teachers were actually practising for weeks, I got really scared. To the point that I didn’t want to go.

But of course I did, with a girlfriend and partner in crime, and of course my lovely yoga studio sangha. The experience was special. Three teachers led us through four rounds of Sun Salutation variations that covered all aspects of the Global Mala Day, such as power, flow, earth but most of all, humbleness and offering.

That’s what the Sun Salutation really is about, acknowledging something bigger or beyond yourself. Instead of using words or thoughts, you use your body for this prayer. I found it an amazing feeling to ‘pray with your body’, since I’m a rather brainy (vata) type of person. The prayer could still be felt the days afterwards (oi) and I have to admit that I even had to take some aspirin to ease my aching muscles. But it was all worth it.

We dedicated this practice to Women for Women, both the people in the organization as the women in need. This initiative has very powerful sponsor programs, where you support a ‘sister’ in a war-torn country financially and emotionally. I all recommend you to be aware of their work:
http://www.womenforwomen.org/

Namaste,
Geertje

Rock On

I’m on my favorite beach on earth* on Lefkada, Greece, with my sweetheart. Te gorgeous clear blue-green waves crash rhythmically into this beach which looks like it’s is carved out of stones by God herself. There are a million things to be inspired by.

I see none however. All this sweetness is dampened by a crying pain in my left shin, a thumping ping pong sized swelling is equally eager to come and take a look at the Greek sun. Just 30 minutes ago, I started darting towards the sea, Blue Lagoon-style. This was followed by an encounter with a giant size rock hidden just below sea level, at the place where the wave break so exactly where you have to surrender and jump in fast. The encounter was not eventful to the rock at all, but all the more to me.

It was the perfect happening on an already ‘challenging’ holiday, where in chronological order, I got bed bound for 2 days with a mysterious pain in what I was convinced to be my liver, thunder storm that haunt the island made it 3 days of being confined inside. After the pain equally mysteriously left my right side, we almost got ourselves killed on a deserted rocky and steep hilltop, while looking for adventure. This episode left our car damaged, so that was our next problem. And now my aching leg, zillion kilometers from a descent doctor. Lovely.

So this holiday isn’t exactly obstacle-free, much like ‘life’. It’s amazing how much we blame the rocks that we bump into for being in the way -once I got out of the sea, I angrily limped up and down the beach looking for the rock that hit me. Of course, the rock doesn’t care. It was here before long my shin.

So what do we do then with the rocks that we bump into? Instead of shaking our fists angrily at the rocks, thinking ‘no more rocks for me!’, we could save ourselves the trouble and accept, as gracefully as we can, that there are, and there will be, many more rocks. Why? Let’s face it. They were here before us.

Rock on,

Geertje

* This place is called Kalamitsi, officially chosen the most beautiful beach in Greece)

It Matters

Some places scream to be written about. I’m in a place like that right now. The scream, the invitation seems to come from outside, but of course I know that it comes from within. This place doesn’t need someone writing about it in order to exist.  Not at all, actually.

Still, the biggest illusion that a writer must cherish is that what she writes about, matters. That it matters that I tell you about this piece of land on Lefkada, Greece, between Athani and Katsiki, just one corner from the crossing that leads you either deeper into the islands’ hilly forest, or descent down to its gorgeous beachy edges, like we just did. Somehow it matters that I tell you that it smells like the most precious perfume of olive wood, sun, thyme, oregano, pine trees and an herb with small, fluffy leaves that I don’t know the name of. How the only sounds that I hear is an orchestra of crickets, bees, flies, birds, the wind and the bells of goats that are grazing on a hill nearby. And how the view matters! Fresh green from pine bushes, silvery green olive tree tops and at least 20 other shades of green, together with the brown and gray shades of the rocky earth and old tree trunks against the most breathtaking, open blue sky there is. All of this on a descending hill slope that makes the horizon of pure, open ocean rise up like wallpaper around me.

So why would it matter if I tell you about this place? It matters since it’s the only thing I could possibly add to it. Because really, what more can we bring to our favorite places like these except traces; plants and bugs crushed under our feet or our pee? All we can do is leave a piece of ourselves behind, our respect, our gratitude, a prayer. We touch down our hand in the ground and offer it.

Turning Arrows into Flowers

I had a rude awakening coming back from my holiday in Greece. Financial crisis, my savings on the verge of disappearing made me crash into everyday reality like gravity pulling rain down to the earth. We have received a ticket from the negative global karma police and we have to pay it.

In times like these, it’s easy to get very disheartened. My usual response to global crisis is either denial or paralysis. Both of them don’t work, I noticed.

So what does work? I remembered the story of the Buddha sitting under a tree before becoming enlightened. He was attacked by Mara, a personification of the obstacles that keep us from realizing our true, open nature. Mara did everything to distract the Buddha from the truth, attacking him with armies, seducing him with hot chica’s –and chico’s, who knows-, and finally becoming the nagging voice of self doubt in his head that we probably all know too well.

All these attacks are symbolized as arrows being shot at the Buddha. But he, being the kind of guy he was, turned all these arrows into flowers, ultimately ‘ditching’ Mara, and becoming enlightened. The arrows in this story are the obstacles that we all continuously face, especially in times like these. So how, as true potential Buddha’s, can we turn these arrow of crisis into flowers?

We do that by reversing the mental pattern that got us in this economical, political and environmental mess in the first place: pleasure seeking and pain avoiding. The more we open up to our interconnectedness, our interbeing as Thich Nhat Hanh calls it, the more we realize that our good is connected to the good of all.

It is incredibly complicated to elaborate on what has to be done in order to restore the global damage. One thing is clear to me however; we have to start turning arrows into flowers. We begin in our own hearts and minds by not turning away from the crisis and not becoming paralysed by it either. This way we reverse the pattern of clinging to what we want and pushing away what we don’t want. And I am convinced that this, in the long run, will heal the world.

Windhorse Energy

A thick fog is hanging around my house this morning. The first night frost left the river nearby steaming, setting itself apart from the cold air. It’s hard to see the trees that are only some fifty meters away. It’s very dreamlike.

Although this foggy morning fascinates me, the same fog has been hanging around for days in my mind, clouding my thoughts, making me fuzzy. I don’t feel the energy to do anything and the internal fog seems to separate me from the rest of the world. Nothing seems to work out around this time of year when the light is slowly fading away, making the mornings and evenings shorter. It’s enough to spin even the most uplifted spirit into a foggy depression.

That’s why it’s so important to generate something from within ourselves when the season turns cold and dark. In the Buddhist tradition of Shambhala we talk about rousing ‘Windhorse energy’. You can compare it with the Yogi’s Prana, the Chinese Chi or the Christian’s Holy Spirit. It is that part of you which energetically appreciates. It’s a mental and physical state of clarity; it’s your ‘mojo’. You can sense when somebody ‘has Windhorse energy’. They have a quality of brilliance and clarity about them.

That’s not to say that some people ‘have’ Windhorse energy and some don’t. It’s a flow of energy that moves through us continually during the day. You can sometimes feel yourself coming into your Windhorse energy, just by walking down the street or sitting behind the computer. You feel connected and not sunken into yourself.

That’s why, in these days, it is so important for us to consciously raise our Windhorse energy. You can read a beautiful article on how to do that by Sakying Mipham Rinpoche by clicking here

Sending you lots of Windhorse energy,
Geertje

Relax your Life

“Relax your breath…more…”

We are on our backs in shavasana, the final ‘corpse pose’ that closes a yoga session. The deep and gentle voice guiding our bodies and minds through this belongs to Max Strom, a renowned yogi traveling the world teaching yoga. The voice continues,

“Relax your entire life…more…”

Now this was a new one. After my initial surprise, I gave relaxing my entire life a try. Strangely enough, it was a completely easy and natural thing to do. In a split second, I realized that ‘my entire life’ wasn’t like a building that I put together brick by brick, year by year, that I now have to live in. I could just relax my whole life since my life is played out from the inside. Or at least the way I live it. So there I was, relaxing my entire life just like that, laying between 25-some other people that, I hope, were doing the same.

Last weekend I had the pleasure to be one of Max Strom’s grateful yoga students three mornings in a row at the beautiful rebuild yoga studio of Yoga Moves in Utrecht, Holland, where he drops by almost every year. His style of teaching feels like a relief. As he says on his website, “The goal (of yoga) is not to tie ourselves into knots –we’re already tied in knots. The aim is to untie the knots in our heart.” The knots in my heart indeed became untied when Max guided us into a visual meditation after shavasana:

“Sit up tall and easy, close your eyes. Now imagine the person who in this life has taught you what love is…”

-I was attending the workshop with my fabulous mom –

“Visualize this person sitting right in front of you…”

-My mom was-

“and radiate out all the gratitude you feel towards this person.”

It’s so simple yet so profound. Maybe this is a good thing to do right now at the beginning of your week. Who was the person that taught you what love is?

If you ever get a chance to practice with Max Strom, I would recommend you do. His teaching schedule can be found on his website:

Wishing you untied knots and free hearts,

Geertje

Yes We Can

As we all know, this first November week of 2008 has been a historical one. It’s an unoriginal statement but what else can you say when America has elected their first African American president? I personally was bouncing up and down all day last Wednesday, from six in the morning well into the night at an ‘Obama celebration party’ at one of my American friends’ house.

Yes we can. These words have been flowing through our media and our minds like a mantra. Imagine the impact that this affirmation has on the global collected consciousness; waves of hope and change but also of sheer possibility and potential. It’s the American Dream at its best. You could even connect it with Buddha potential, which is nothing other than realizing that indeed, yes, we can.

I imagine all the spirits that have been sacrificed for the same American Dream, especially the African souls and their descendants, resting a little bit more peacefully after this week. Karmically speaking, this has been a very good week and you don’t have to be a ‘believer’ to feel it.

As always, our inner critic may be busy shining its morning-after light on all of this. The American Dream is as much scrutinized as it has been cherished; especially here in Europe, where America is often associated with some kind of naivety. But this week I want to celebrate the side of America which believes so much in human potential. Let’s not take for granted or deny that a large amount of people at least feel that, yes, they can.

What happens next has yet to be seen. Obama, being one of those leaders that we so desperately need in this world, has pointed out very clearly that it won’t be easy and that individual involvement is essential. I share his conviction that, even though it may be difficult, not much is impossible as long as we each put our minds and hearts to it. Yes we can.

Enjoy your weekend,

Geertje

The Way you do Anything…

Everyone knows that cleaning up your house can be as spiritually effective as a yoga workshop. You feel fresh, clean and uplifted afterwards. This last week I felt the irresistible urge to transform my entire house. It was a small revolution, but it was worth it.

There’s a strong connection between cleaning and spiritual traditions. I love the way the physical environment becomes a reflection of your spiritual hygiene, although I’m not the best role model for it. I usually am quite inattentive on a practical level, not the type of person that instinctively takes the cups out of your hands at a party and starts cleaning them. I admire those people very much. I don’t have that by nature, so I have to learn that. Luckily, auspiciously, I ended up in a spiritual tradition that very much emphasizes the importance of taking care of the appearance of things.

In Shambhala traditions, a Tibetan form of Buddhism, you are encouraged to keep your space, house, meditation room clean, but also to pimp it where you can. Therefore you can always find fresh, artfully arranged flowers in their meditation centers.  Likewise, when we serve food, we try to serve it as lovely as we can, with eyes for detail, a little decoration where you can. It also accounts for the way you dress yourself. When a teacher is given a lecture for example, people dress up. It took a while before I got that, and it took some understanding from my part to finally not appear in my jogging suit to a meditation program.

I’m starting to get the importance of your appearance more and more. The way you do anything is the way you do everything.  People that look nice, take care of themselves, have a different energy than those who take to the streets in that same jogging suit. Although I am pretty much on both ends of the spectrum, I do enjoy the way my energy changes when I do decide to dress up, look nice, put fresh flowers in my house, vacuum clean. It really does go a long way.

I am sending you the feeling of a cleaned house, fresh flowers and a stylish outfit!

Namaste,
Geertje

Life is Not a Problem

Life is not a problem to be solved. At its deepest level, life is not a problem but a mystery. This distinction is fundamental: problems are to be solved, mysteries are not.

This week I found out the hard way that life is mysterious, unknown and heartbreaking. Life didn’t come with any guidelines; there are no 10-Steps-Towards-Happiness. We do the best we can and inevitably fall flat onto our face sometimes, and can only watch our lives crashing into a million pieces. Usually we get up, gain our composure as quick as we possibly can, or we can stay down for a little while and be amazed to find out how the only way to live our lives fully is to let go of them completely.

We save ourselves so much pain by not relating to life as a problem that needs a solution. If we can, just now and then, drop the speech balloons that divide our experience into good or bad, right or wrong, for me or against me, we will connect with the mysterious quality of life. We need a lot of trust to do that because facing the mystery of life can be extremely heartbreaking. We build up this trust by staying mindful, not turn away from our experience and to love, to love a lot, without putting any restrictions on our hearts and minds.

Because ultimately, what the mystery asks us is simple. As writer Philip Simmons says in his book Learning to Fall, “ (mystery asks us)… only that we be in its presence, that we fully, consciously, hand ourselves over. That is all, and that is everything.”

Love,
Geertje

Ho, ho, hold up

It’s that time of the year when you start noticing that everybody’s wrapping up, closing deals, getting things done before disappearing for two weeks. When no appointments can be made until our year adds another number to it, I start noticing that Christmas is due.

Now I’ve always had issues with Christmas. More than the hyper consumer, animal unfriendly mode that we get into, I dislike the collective pressure that demands us to be Happy at Christmas. Every cultural event that tells me that to be merry and cheerful –like Christmas or Queensday in Holland- results in the exact opposite for me, leaving me irritated and depressed. I have tried to break this habit, to embrace the collective consciousness of celebration, but just can’t help it.

It’s my natural distrust of perfection, I guess. Christmas especially, with its emphasis on perfection –having a loving family, a warm home with a tree and enough money to buy everyone presents- spontaneously points out all the things that are imperfect in my life. And I know I’m not the only one here. Because unless you are in a perfect relation, in a perfect family and in perfect life basically; Christmas sucks.

Even if my life would be perfect (as if!), I would probably sabotage it especially for Christmas. I hate to admit it, but yes, I’m the person that picks a fight at the rare occasion that I happen to be sitting at a Christmas dinner table. I’m not proud of it. Collective cheerfulness just ain’t my thing.

So I am usually left alone during Christmas (guess why). This gives me enough time to focus on something I do like about Christmas: it’s (supposed to be) about Jesus. And I love Jesus, he is as the old proverb said, my homeboy. How the hell did Christmas get to become so NOT about Jesus? Compassion, loving thy neighbor, non-violence, brother and sisterhood, standing up and believing in human potential, the ability to love beyond aggression, that’s what I’m talking about! Somehow, this got degenerated to eating a turkey and awkward family situations. What happened?

I think that somewhere along the way, Jesus became not cool enough to be Christmas’ poster boy. And that’s a shame. That’s why I am putting up a Jesus image on my desktop until Christmas is done. The man deserves some credit, especially around Christmas.

May the spirit of Jesus be with you this week,

Amen
Geertje

Just Right

It’s Christmas day and I get up in time to have wonderful, yoga, meditation, and contemplation packed morning. By the time I get to my yoga mat, my dog is having a ADHD attack, insisting that my back is the only place where his yesterday’s half chewed-off bone must be consumed. At the same time, my downstairs neighbor decides that it’s time to pump up the Christmas carols full volume, a regrettable privilege during Christmas. The washing machine is spinning full speed, the telephone starts ringing, a dog in my apartment block starts hysterically barking and my dog joins in. I can see my meditative morning fading transforming into mayhem.

Let’s be honest; it’s hard to get things ‘just right’. Some people, especially Buddhists, would say that it’s downright impossible, at least on the external level. But how we long for it! It’s the feeling that you’ve almost got it the way you want it only to see it slip away. Sometimes it’s almost as if the world conspires against you to make you miss that last step. Of course this isn’t the case, as ‘the world’, as Mark Twain reminded us, ‘was here before us’.

So we might as well invest in another way that doesn’t depend on things being just right. The best alternative I have found is investing in finding things just right and seeing the beauty in imperfection. The first approach comes from expectation, the second one from contentment. As one of my favorite teachers, Sakyong Mipham, so beautifully puts it:

“The most outrageous thing to do is to be content.”

We can actually use our expectations, our feeling of not getting things just right as a stepping stone towards feeling content as it reminds us of the fact that our happiness does not come from getting things the way we want them to line up, but from something more profound; by participating in our lives and living them fully.

Wishing you all a merry and content Christmas,

Geertje

My New Years Gift

First up, I want to wish everyone a happy new year. I hope you enjoyed your holidays. I certainly enjoyed the way I entered the new year, when I found myself in an unsuspected gathering –isn’t this always the case with New Year parties?- of wonderful women. On the morning of New Years Eve, I took some time to rewind this last year for me. What were the gifts that I received that I would like to pass on, into the New Year and onto others?

Then I remembered sitting at the table of one of my dearest friends, talking about some situation I faced. Instead of giving me instructions on how to ‘get myself together’, she said something to me that I will never forget: “Geertje, you’re 25. You are supposed to fuck up. I give you permission!” Looking back, I didn’t know if I laughed harder than I cried, but either way, it was one of the best gifts in 2008.

Therefore I decided that I would give the women at the New Year’s party the same gift: permission to do things we usually don’t allow ourselves, like taking naps during the day, not knowing, shamelessly enjoying… I figured that since we have a hard time giving ourselves permission for things like this, we should give each other permission! I made pocket size –laminated- cards that said, “I give you permission in 2009 to…” on one side, and the thing that was given permission for on the other. This way you could take your card with you, or pass it on or leave it in the bus, train or yoga studio. How wonderful to find a card that gives you permission to sleep late, shamelessly?

So this is the same gift from me to you for 2009. Hereby I give you permission to:

-    Be late
-    Make noise
-    Do something badly
-    Forgive yourself
-    Do things without any predefined purpose, to wander
-    Not know.

May you be happy in 2009!

Namaste,
Geertje

Does This Meditation Thing Work?

I was laughing out loud yesterday in my car while listening to a dharma talk by one of my favourite Buddhist teachers, Sakyong Mipham, talking about the question he is asked regularly: “So tell me: does this meditation thing really work?”

“No, it doesn’t.” He replied. “What do you think I’m going to say? Tibetans are very practical people, so they spend 25 years in freezing caves only to come out and say, `’nope. doesn’t work!”" It would be an odd job description of a Buddhist teacher like Sakyong Mipham to -in his own words- learn people something that is extremely boring, time consuming, painful even -”which by the way, doesn’t work.”

I recognise this hesitation around meditation. It is even daunting for myself sometimes to believe that I’m doing something essential while sitting on my cushion. Maybe it’s because the actual looks of someone sitting in a crossed legged meditation is deceiving. It all looks so unreal, so boring, so simple and peaceful at best. What we tend to forget is that there is more activity that you can imagine going on inside. The meditator is looking at her mind, becoming aware of all the stuff there. It is warriors discipline.

I have come to think of meditation as part of my personal hygiene, not as something ’spiritual’ I do. In fact, it’s probably one of the most earthy and grounded routines I have. Like I don’t forget to brush my teeth, I don’t forget to meditate because otherwise I will feel the plaque in my mind whole day. Which isn’t to say that I’m a perfect meditator, who rises peacefully out of my meditation practice and then goes on planting seeds of peace in the world. Hell no. But, it does give me some space to consciously orient my mind towards the things I want to cultivate. It’s very simple. Do I want to cultivate speed or contentment today? Will I strenghten the ability to appreciate my life or will I tighten my mind in ball around “getting what I want”? Do I want live my life awake or asleep? To me, the answer is simple.

Crossing Boundaries

“ …whatever occurs can be regarded as the path and…all things, not just some things, are workable.” This is a typical teaching by Pema Chödrön, who I have some to see as one of the most authentic spiritual teachers of this time. Her advice is almost always the same; don’t push away your experience. Anything that happens is the source of wisdom. Lean into discomfort. This all sounds very nice, but what happens when you actually experience discomfort, in the form of pain, fear or doubt. The last thing that’s on your mind by that time is leaning into that jukky stuff. Yet somehow, that place of discomfort, of uncertainty, of unknown territory, is the place of true transformation. However, ‘this is not something they teach you in high school’, as my dear friend Lauren once famously spoke. Take for example our ideas on setting boundaries. We are very convinced that we should ‘protect ourselves’ and ‘set and keep our boundaries’. It almost seems ridiculous to challenge these ideas, but lately I have been in a situation that tore up all my ideas on ‘protecting myself’. I crossed borders within myself that I never imagined possible, and it was an extremely painful experience. I didn’t watch or respect my boundaries whatsoever. Then the strangest thing happened. While I thought something within me was damaged beyond repair –which is what we think will happen when we cross our boundaries- to my surprised I noticed that I was fine! Not only was I just fine, I was as whole as ever. This made me realize that a lot of the boundaries we set up for ourselves are connected with our habitual patterns, our convictions, our World According To Me, also known as ego. Our ego bleeds when we do things we never imaged we would accept. This is a painful experience, yes, but as Pema Chödrön reminds us, as much a part of the path as everything else. I have learned that what hurts us even more that letting our boundaries be crossed, is disconnecting, form ourselves and others. Having set boundaries is a way of separating yourself from others, which I personally find a great source of suffering. The strange thing I found out was that as long as you stay connected, there really is nothing that will hurt anything beyond ego. I realize that this is a rather unconventional view. I do not want to imply that we all have to be without boundaries and let anything happen to us –since it’s only ego hurting. As with all things, some wisdom, some sort of intelligent view is necessary. But, next time you hear that voice within you saying “ this is enough! don’t go any further or I will be in pain” you might want to consider Pema Chödrön’s words of leaning into the discomfort to see what happens next. You may find, like I did, that you rather have your “ego’s ego” bruised, and not lose the connection with what is happening. You might just find transformation beyond that painful spot. stay connected, Geertje

God is Love

At one of Holland’s busiest traffic points, near Rotterdam, a billboard is put up with three simple words: GOD IS LOVE. This proclamation stands out between the other high tech and highly commercial billboards surrounding it. I find the big black letters on a simple white surface such a pleasure to drive by. It’s so lovely and odd in its own way.

Every time I am moved by its simple, almost childish message. It seems to cut through most of the things I’m speeding by most of the times I’m on the highway, and most of the times in life to be honest. It’s unusual in Holland to see words like ‘love’ and ‘god’ in such a public, even commercial way. Especially the combination of both is rare, sadly enough.

It then never fails to surprise me why we don’t have more spiritual and loving affirmations in public places. It’s such an easy thing to do! There are always empty places, or how about reserving 5 percent of all the marketing space for collective positive affirmations! Imagine seeing a bus dry by that says: ‘You are good and whole’. Or a TV commercial proclaiming that life is precious –without having a brand or a product pushing through. Just some sunshine for our collective consciousness. I am convinced that crime rates would drop, traffic jams would diminish and people would smile more often.

So I think the “God is Love’ billboard is a good start. What makes me even love it more is that it turns out that the company that rents out the billboard doesn’t know who designed and paid for it! And it’s been there for months now, so somebody is really on the same page with me! I love the thought of somebody out there keeping this uplifting secret. I hope to see, and put out more positive affirmations into the world! Have a lovely week! Geertje

‘we’re going to party like it’s my birthday!’

Today is my birthday. I am turning 26, which I know is relatively young for most, but hard to imagine to me personally. It really only seems like yesterday that I spend childhood summers at the coast with my family, or that I went the first club, first own place, all those firsts. Back then, twenty-six felt like being a dinosaur, or at the most positive, as the age when you have your stuff together. Well, guess again. Although there is some transformation, the essential things feel the same, pain is still pain, contentment remained the same and laughing until your stomach hurts feels exactly the same as 15 years ago. It was my beloved late uncle that told me once that it doesn’t matter if you live to be 5, 50 or 500 years; you get a pretty good picture of what it means to be alive if you pay some attention. I guess he was right.

That thought always gives me tremendous joy and freedom. If we’re all on the merry-go-round of life, encountering the same things over and over, we might as well see the humor in it. All those circles we make feel so different, but they are surprisingly the same if we only stop to notice it. That’s what birthdays are for, from my point of view.

They are times when we can look back and see ahead, with gratitude and joy, if you do it well. Because let’s be honest, that’s what birthday parties are for; legitimately putting yourself and the story of your life in the center of attention. Having your birthday is an art that not too many people master. They do not feel comfortable drawing all this attention to themselves. This is a shame. Seeing your birthday as a gratefulness party instead of an ego bash helps. I have always been ‘good’ in celebrating my birthdays. Ask my friends and they will tell you I have put them through preferably multiple days of celebration, with different themes. There was the family, quality, intimate party and there were the outgoing, party hard, clubbing and karaoke sessions. We have even traveled abroad for one birthday. That feeling of when you were seven years old and you counted the days till your birthday on a paper beside your bed never left me. On my birthday I have the urge to tell everybody, and I am afraid to blurt out ‘it’s my birthday!’ to almost anyone on the bus that makes contact with me.

On a personal level I always like to stand still on the evening before my birthday, reflecting on the last year and thinking ahead. Yesterday evening I wrote a letter to my 50-year old self, which was fun. I always ask my mother and father to tell me the story of my birth, which always is pretty spectacular since I had the umbilical cord around my neck, causing the doctors to practically whang bang me out of my mother’s belly –respect to my mom. The house also nearly burned down, since my father left some milk on the stove when the complications around my birth caused my parents to rush to the hospital –immediately.

Maybe that’s the reasons I became so loud around my birthday. I’m still happy to have lived through it.

May all your birthdays be merry!