How does one prepare for a trek?
“Practice, practice, practice,” is certainly one part of it. Cousineau (The Art of Pilgrimage) writes, “Being ready mentally, spiritually, and physically makes us lighter on our feet, more adroit at making decisions, and perhaps can even keep chaos at bay.” In the coming weeks I will write more about my mental, spiritual, and physical practices. Today, as I prepare to leave on a weekend retreat, I want to focus on the logistics.
Aaron is a wonderful host for all of these events. Once we arrive in India, all of our arrangements are taken care of. There are no concerns about transportation, lodging, etc. We already have a list of what to bring (ranging from fleece pants to shorts) and what not to bring (the hair dryer and electric razor).
I have made my flight arrangements (it is a direct flight from Newark to Delhi), and recently received my new passport. (If you haven’t seen them, the new passports do everything but sing the Star Spangled Banner. Every page displays an etching of a different scene of Americana.)
In June I will apply for my visa, I will also see my physician regarding any shots that I will need. And, I will start to provision from the list we have been provided. The top item will be the hiking shoes, which will need to be well broken in prior to departing.
July will be time enough to start really stock-piling the film I will need. My digital camera is fine for color, but I will be carrying the 35 mm film camera for black and white.
I think the logistics bases are covered.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
One
If you have never been to my apartment, imagine an open loft space with high ceilings, skylights, large windows with views of Manhattan, and a working fireplace. As is often the case, the fireplace commands a position of attention. Understandably, it is over the fireplace that I have hung perhaps my most prized photograph.
One by Nancy Burston is actually a composite of three photographs. I first saw it when I went to a gallery to see another photographer’s exhibit. While this photograph held my attention for only a few minutes, it remained with me. It spoke to me, and kept calling me back; I was constantly seeing it in my mind’s eye. The photograph is a composite of portraits of people who are likenesses of the commonly accepted perceptions of Jesus, Buddha, and Muhammad. It is in shades of orange. As the light changes, as you move from one place in the room to another, as you stand up or sit down, the image that you see changes. The Gods of worldly religions as One. They are ever-present—in my living room, and in my life.
The theme of one first entered my consciousness during a Yoga for Transformation workshop that began in the fall of 2006 and continued into the winter. One of the outcomes of the workshop was the development of a personal mission statement. This was mine.
T"o see the world in a grain of sand, in this moment, each moment. Every day seeking in that vision greater clarity and acceptance. And, sharing my sight with all whom I touch – with warmth, joy, and goodness of intent. " (From William Blake’s “Auguries of Innocence, “ To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower. Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.)
Others have echoed this theme. One of the most eloquent of these was Black Elk. The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes from within the souls of men when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells Wakan-Tanka, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us. This is the real peace, and the others are but reflections of this. The second peace is that which is made between two individuals, and the third is that which is made between two nations. But above all you should understand that there can never be peace between nations until there is first known that true peace which is within the souls of men. Wakan-Tanka is the term for the "sacred" or the "divine" as understood by the Lakota people.
One instructs me to look for that sacredness, that divine, within each of us. That I live this moment, each moment, striving toward one is my daily commitment.
One by Nancy Burston is actually a composite of three photographs. I first saw it when I went to a gallery to see another photographer’s exhibit. While this photograph held my attention for only a few minutes, it remained with me. It spoke to me, and kept calling me back; I was constantly seeing it in my mind’s eye. The photograph is a composite of portraits of people who are likenesses of the commonly accepted perceptions of Jesus, Buddha, and Muhammad. It is in shades of orange. As the light changes, as you move from one place in the room to another, as you stand up or sit down, the image that you see changes. The Gods of worldly religions as One. They are ever-present—in my living room, and in my life.
The theme of one first entered my consciousness during a Yoga for Transformation workshop that began in the fall of 2006 and continued into the winter. One of the outcomes of the workshop was the development of a personal mission statement. This was mine.
T"o see the world in a grain of sand, in this moment, each moment. Every day seeking in that vision greater clarity and acceptance. And, sharing my sight with all whom I touch – with warmth, joy, and goodness of intent. " (From William Blake’s “Auguries of Innocence, “ To see a World in a Grain of Sand, And a Heaven in a Wild Flower. Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour.)
Others have echoed this theme. One of the most eloquent of these was Black Elk. The first peace, which is the most important, is that which comes from within the souls of men when they realize their relationship, their oneness, with the universe and all its powers, and when they realize that at the center of the universe dwells Wakan-Tanka, and that this center is really everywhere, it is within each of us. This is the real peace, and the others are but reflections of this. The second peace is that which is made between two individuals, and the third is that which is made between two nations. But above all you should understand that there can never be peace between nations until there is first known that true peace which is within the souls of men. Wakan-Tanka is the term for the "sacred" or the "divine" as understood by the Lakota people.
One instructs me to look for that sacredness, that divine, within each of us. That I live this moment, each moment, striving toward one is my daily commitment.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
What Makes This a Pilgrimage?
The complete circle is a universal symbol for the soul—an image of wholeness—and the goal of the sacred journey is to become as whole again as possible, (“The Art of Pilgrimage,” Phil Cousineau).
As I continue to reflect on why I am taking the Himalayan journey, I know that it does have to do with soul, and with spirit; and it has to do with continuing the longer journey that I am on to bring mind, body, soul, and spirit increasingly into alignment. In 1994 yoga became my catalyst for initiating that journey; it continues to nurture and move me through it. Meditation became a part of my day the next year; I returned to daily prayer last summer. Each of these practices has contributed to my journey toward oneness.
Mine is not a religious journey; it is a spiritual one. It is, as Cousineau suggests, about “becoming as whole again as possible.” It is a constant seeking for integrity in who I am and what I do; what I take from the world, and what I return to it. I am a long way from attaining the alignment that I am seeking. I am also a great deal closer than I have ever been.
As a change management consultant, I would often tell clients, You can only move so far without letting go of where you now are. Letting go, lightening my burden, has been an important part of this journey for me. At its earliest stages, the letting go was about possessions. For many years I was driven by acquisition and accumulation. A bad day? Buy a new shirt. Books by the hundreds, some read and others never opened, filled bookcases. Closets of clothing, drawers of CDs and DVDs, possessed me even as I claimed to possess them. I have let go of much of this over the past years; there is still more to go.
As I lightened my possessions, I learned that I also need to lighten my emotional burden. Over the past few years, I have focused on letting go of anger, fear, resentment, jealousy, judgment, and other emotions that are energy consuming. In their place, I have focused on growing acceptance, peace, equanimity, joy, and other emotions that generate energy within and radiate it outward. This part of my journey, too, is incomplete, though I have taken many steps on the path.
This trek provides me with the opportunity, and challenge, of continuing to lighten my burden and to move further toward the wholeness I am seeking. That makes this a sacred journey, a pilgrimage.
As I continue to reflect on why I am taking the Himalayan journey, I know that it does have to do with soul, and with spirit; and it has to do with continuing the longer journey that I am on to bring mind, body, soul, and spirit increasingly into alignment. In 1994 yoga became my catalyst for initiating that journey; it continues to nurture and move me through it. Meditation became a part of my day the next year; I returned to daily prayer last summer. Each of these practices has contributed to my journey toward oneness.
Mine is not a religious journey; it is a spiritual one. It is, as Cousineau suggests, about “becoming as whole again as possible.” It is a constant seeking for integrity in who I am and what I do; what I take from the world, and what I return to it. I am a long way from attaining the alignment that I am seeking. I am also a great deal closer than I have ever been.
As a change management consultant, I would often tell clients, You can only move so far without letting go of where you now are. Letting go, lightening my burden, has been an important part of this journey for me. At its earliest stages, the letting go was about possessions. For many years I was driven by acquisition and accumulation. A bad day? Buy a new shirt. Books by the hundreds, some read and others never opened, filled bookcases. Closets of clothing, drawers of CDs and DVDs, possessed me even as I claimed to possess them. I have let go of much of this over the past years; there is still more to go.
As I lightened my possessions, I learned that I also need to lighten my emotional burden. Over the past few years, I have focused on letting go of anger, fear, resentment, jealousy, judgment, and other emotions that are energy consuming. In their place, I have focused on growing acceptance, peace, equanimity, joy, and other emotions that generate energy within and radiate it outward. This part of my journey, too, is incomplete, though I have taken many steps on the path.
This trek provides me with the opportunity, and challenge, of continuing to lighten my burden and to move further toward the wholeness I am seeking. That makes this a sacred journey, a pilgrimage.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Plateaus
(Original post May 4)
In his book Mastery: The Keys to Success and Long-Term Fulfillment, George Leonard writes, "if our life is good, a life of mastery, most of it will be spent on the plateau. If not, a large part of it may well be spent in restless, distracted, ultimately self-destructive attempts to escape the plateau."
It was good to remind myself of this earlier this week. On Tuesday it seemed that every way my trainer tried to push my limits, to stretch me, led to the same place: a plateau. Until now the climb had been steady. It had been hard work, but each session I felt that I had gone further, grown stronger, gained balance and flexibility. Tuesday, it felt that each place I reached for was just out of reach, just too far to stretch.
Fortunately, I have come to learn about plateaus, and accept them in my life. I have been there with my photography for a few years now, and am just beginning to climb again; I made some of my best pictures ever this past weekend.
Yoga is a place where we all have experienced plateaus. Sometimes it will be in one specific asana; other times it will seem to be our entire practice. For the past two years, my morning practice has begun with fifteen minutes of Viparita Karani (Legs Up the Wall Pose). At some point, it became routine and seemed to lose its power. I continued to do it, fifteen minutes each morning. Last week, just once and not for all that long, I felt a power and depth to my presence in this pose that I have never felt before. I know it will come more frequently now, for longer. I am preparing to leave the plateau.
That is what plateaus do. They allow us to stabilize, to strenghten our commitment. They prepare us to go deeper, further, higher than we have been able to go before. They are a place to rest in our weariness, and to launch our ascent to the next level.
I admit, I was frustrated when I came home from the gym on Tuesday. Wednesday I celebrated the achievement of a new plateau.
In his book Mastery: The Keys to Success and Long-Term Fulfillment, George Leonard writes, "if our life is good, a life of mastery, most of it will be spent on the plateau. If not, a large part of it may well be spent in restless, distracted, ultimately self-destructive attempts to escape the plateau."
It was good to remind myself of this earlier this week. On Tuesday it seemed that every way my trainer tried to push my limits, to stretch me, led to the same place: a plateau. Until now the climb had been steady. It had been hard work, but each session I felt that I had gone further, grown stronger, gained balance and flexibility. Tuesday, it felt that each place I reached for was just out of reach, just too far to stretch.
Fortunately, I have come to learn about plateaus, and accept them in my life. I have been there with my photography for a few years now, and am just beginning to climb again; I made some of my best pictures ever this past weekend.
Yoga is a place where we all have experienced plateaus. Sometimes it will be in one specific asana; other times it will seem to be our entire practice. For the past two years, my morning practice has begun with fifteen minutes of Viparita Karani (Legs Up the Wall Pose). At some point, it became routine and seemed to lose its power. I continued to do it, fifteen minutes each morning. Last week, just once and not for all that long, I felt a power and depth to my presence in this pose that I have never felt before. I know it will come more frequently now, for longer. I am preparing to leave the plateau.
That is what plateaus do. They allow us to stabilize, to strenghten our commitment. They prepare us to go deeper, further, higher than we have been able to go before. They are a place to rest in our weariness, and to launch our ascent to the next level.
I admit, I was frustrated when I came home from the gym on Tuesday. Wednesday I celebrated the achievement of a new plateau.
What Am I Learning About the Himalayas?
Today I did a photo shoot with Eric, my cousin's son and an incredible, beautiful, searching, and growing spirit at the age of 23. During the course of the afternoon he asked me, What are you learning about the Himilayas? Some people just get right to the heart of the matter.
Aaron has recommended a series of books to those of us who are taking the trek later this year. To date I have read two of them (Sacred Waters: A Pilgrimage Up the Ganges River to the Source of Hindu Culture by Stephen Alter, and Living With The Himalayan Masters by Swami Rama) and have begun a third (At the Eleventh Hour by Pandit Ramini Tigunait).
What am I learning?
First, that the world to which we are traveling is embued with spirit in a way that does not align with a traditional western worldview. The history, tradition, and even the day-to-day life of the region carries with it much that can not be explained in the language - or the minds - of "science," "logic," "rational thinking," or even Judeo-Christian mystery. This learning opens the door for another.
Let go of expectation. Expectation becomes a filter through which we allow, or block, experience. What gets through is re-shaped to fit our expectation; what is blocked fades quickly away. I don't know what to expect, and I know that - if it is allowed to be experienced - it will not fit neatly into the boxes that each of us carry with us to make sense of the world. Thus the only way that I can hope to be open to the mystery, the spirit, the soul of the Himalayas is to let go of expectation.
Related to this, I know I also need to Suspend judgment. Judgment comes when we - consciously or not - use a set of standards within us to measure what is occuring (within or outside of us). It implies a right or wrong, better or worse, good or bad, inferior and superior. It does not allow for acceptance of what is, as it is.
There is more to learn before I go.
Aaron has recommended a series of books to those of us who are taking the trek later this year. To date I have read two of them (Sacred Waters: A Pilgrimage Up the Ganges River to the Source of Hindu Culture by Stephen Alter, and Living With The Himalayan Masters by Swami Rama) and have begun a third (At the Eleventh Hour by Pandit Ramini Tigunait).
What am I learning?
First, that the world to which we are traveling is embued with spirit in a way that does not align with a traditional western worldview. The history, tradition, and even the day-to-day life of the region carries with it much that can not be explained in the language - or the minds - of "science," "logic," "rational thinking," or even Judeo-Christian mystery. This learning opens the door for another.
Let go of expectation. Expectation becomes a filter through which we allow, or block, experience. What gets through is re-shaped to fit our expectation; what is blocked fades quickly away. I don't know what to expect, and I know that - if it is allowed to be experienced - it will not fit neatly into the boxes that each of us carry with us to make sense of the world. Thus the only way that I can hope to be open to the mystery, the spirit, the soul of the Himalayas is to let go of expectation.
Related to this, I know I also need to Suspend judgment. Judgment comes when we - consciously or not - use a set of standards within us to measure what is occuring (within or outside of us). It implies a right or wrong, better or worse, good or bad, inferior and superior. It does not allow for acceptance of what is, as it is.
There is more to learn before I go.
My Fortune Cookie
(NOTE: I began this blog April 16 on the yoga studio website, which is only open to members. I am transcribing my original posts here, and will jointly post future entries. This entry was posted April 19.)
Last night I had a date. As interesting as that might be, it is a story for another time and place. Suffice it to say, after a cocktail we went to Bright Food Shop (Eighth Avenue and 21st Street in Chelsea, NYC). After another great Bright dinner the check came, along with the fortune cookies.
My fortune cookie read, Balance is more than not falling down.
Balance is one of the many gifts that I have received through yoga. It is a focus of my training for the trek. It joins me in my yoga practice. It accompanies my days. It is how I seek to live my life. And, it will be a presence with me in the Himalayas.
Balance is more than not falling down.
Last night I had a date. As interesting as that might be, it is a story for another time and place. Suffice it to say, after a cocktail we went to Bright Food Shop (Eighth Avenue and 21st Street in Chelsea, NYC). After another great Bright dinner the check came, along with the fortune cookies.
My fortune cookie read, Balance is more than not falling down.
Balance is one of the many gifts that I have received through yoga. It is a focus of my training for the trek. It joins me in my yoga practice. It accompanies my days. It is how I seek to live my life. And, it will be a presence with me in the Himalayas.
Balance is more than not falling down.
Beginnings
In January I signed up for a Himalayan trek with my yoga studio. That decision has initiated a series of beginnings for me.
- Why am I doing this? In truth, that is a question whose answer I am seeking myself. It had never occured to me that I would visit the Himalayan Mountains, or even that I would want to. Yet, each time I saw the announcement on the studio website, I felt more drawn to it. I have learned over the years that if I follow my heart, the reasons will unfold. And so I signed up. I will learn why as I move forward.
- When I asked Aaron, the owner of the studio and trek guide, whether he thought I could make the trek, his advice was, "Cardio, cardio, cardio." For the umpteenth time, I signed up at a gym. For the first time in my life, I am motivated to go to the gym. I have the sweetest, most affirming and knowledgable trainer. In fact, we are doing core strengthening and flexibility, along with the cardio. I train with a heart rate monitor, and he is constantly working me into my training zones. I was surprised early on to learn that my cardio capacity fell in the "very good" zone for my age. Four weeks ago it crossed the "elite" threshold for the first time. It has held there, and moved upward, since.
- In his book "The Art of Pilgrimage," Philip Cousineau writes, "Because weight is one of the greatest burdens to the pilgrim, one way to stay in touch with sacred writing is to 'make your own bible' as Emerson suggested." My Pilgrim's Bible is a leather-bound journal into which I transcribe the writings of others, those things that I used to highlight and leave sitting on the bookshelf. Interspersed are photographs, mostly my own, and a very rare insight of significance. Aaron has suggested readings to those of us going on the journey. As I complete each, I am adding new learnings to my bible. It, along with a journal for the trip, will be the books I carry with me.
- Photography is a sacred experience for my. My most sacred photographs are in black and white; you don't get distracted by the color. While I have gone digital, I have not yet been satisfied with conversion of those images from color to black and white. So, I am now on a quest for new black and white film. (My old film was discontinued about a year ago.)
- Blogging is new to me, another beginning. Here I will record - and share - my journey to my journey; the journey itself; and the journey home.
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