Gaia Community: rudyan's Blog

I Am Arbutus

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sun, 05 Jul 2009 20:42:32 GMT

I am Arbutus, aka, the Tree of Knowledge. Look at me, I stand as I have always stood, raw, naked and unashamed. Unlike… ah but I’m getting ahead of my story.

There was this Garden, see? Oh, it was a garden of heavenly delights, the Garden of Eden, they called it. Everyone roamed around like me then, naked as the day God made them, and proud. In the way we are meant to be proud. Nothing to hide. Inside and outside made from the same cloth. Of course we hadn’t heard that turn of phrase then. We all wore skins—our own, not somebody else’s. If you get my drift.

Well, one day I was minding my own business as usual, stretching my limbs every which way to see how close I could get to Light—call it God, Sun, whatever, we just called it Light in those days. I was losing my bark as I do every spring and there was this friendly contest, see, as to who could get the best tan. Well, as far as I could see there was no contest—I always won hands down, or make it pants down, bark down, whatever, I always turned out the most brilliant chartreuse, and that was without getting at all burned. That was the rule—Eve, the woman, made it up—if the beautiful tan turned out to be a burn, you lost automatically. She made Adam the judge. Personally, I think it was a game between those two, just another excuse for touching. As if they needed one.

So I was standing there, my limbs stretched out every which way reaching toward Light and I felt this tickly sensation on my skin, something was slithering up onto one of my lower limbs. I tried to shake it off but it wouldn’t budge, it just kept crawling and crawling, up one limb and down the other till I thought I would scream. I wondered briefly if this was someone’s trick to make me lose the best tan contest that year.

Just then I heard “Pssst!” I listened.”Pssst!” I heard again.

“What?! What do you want? Can’t you tell I’m working on my tan?”

“Where are your leaves-s-s-s? I’m burning up in this hot s-s-sun!”

“They’re where they always are, I’m open, I’m the original WYSIWYG guy, I have nothing to hide. Leaves are just for decoration anyway, don’t you know that? And who are you, by the way? If I wasn’t a naturally polite guy I’d tell you to get off me, you’ll ruin my tan.”

“Well, I had this idea, s-s-see. You’re the guy they call the Tree of Knowledge, right? And I thought p-s-s-s-s-s-s…” The rest sounded like one long hiss, but I got the gist alright. No good had ever been spoken in that language.

“Giroff!” I shouted. “You’ve come to the wrong man, er, tree, but you don’t know me. You think that just because my body and limbs are all twisted I’ll fall in with your devious plans to separate our resident humans from each other and from their God.” I was disgusted, I was mad. I was losing good tan time. I gave myself a vigorous shake and returned to what I’d been doing, stretching way, way out…

The snake? From what I heard, he must have slithered on off to the next tree, the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. But that's a whole 'nother story. You can read it somewhere, in some bible, I heard tell. But it ain’t my story and you sure as heaven won’t find it in these pages…©RAD 2009

[Photo credits: 1st 2nd ]

Tags: arbutus, Garden of Eden, story

Friday Five of Relaxation

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 22:36:11 GMT

Roses at Butchart Gardens, Victoria BC

img

1) What music soothes you? (an artist, genre, song, etc.)
Indian classical, especially bansuri (bamboo flute).

2) Do you use scents for relaxation, if so which ones? (essential oils, bath salts, food, candles)
I do but don't necessarily use them consistently. At the moment, though, I'm burning sandalwood joss sticks, a gift from a friend.

3) Do you ever get massage, acupuncture or do yoga?
I have found yoga helpful for many years and I also now regularly do self-massage based on (myofascial) trigger point techniques.

4) Which friend(s) or family members do you go to for support and love?
My best friend lives up island a ways. She knows me better than most...

5) If you could go anywhere to relax where would it be?
I would love to spend some time at the Osho meditation resort at Pune.

Tranquility - Improvisation based on Raga Vachaspati

Tags: Friday Five, relaxation, Indian classical music, yoga, massage, scents, oils, incense

What animals have made a difference in your life?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 18:21:33 GMT

Horses. Indra Gypsy was the third of four horses I owned, and the first I raised from foal. She's still a yearling here, I think. Ah, those were the days...

And here's a horse story I wrote recently:

It wasn’t the first time I had witnessed it, the dam down only long enough to get the foal on the ground and the afterbirth out of the way. She lurched to her feet and turned toward the newborn, nuzzling her, drying the birth fluid off her with a rough tongue, nudging her to lift her head, move her limbs, urging her up on her stick legs, again and again till she could dance-balance for the time it would take to receive her first fill from the waiting udder. I watched the miracle, never guessing there was another one on the way.

The next morning, a Saturday, we came across him, a quivering mass of red-brown quarter-horse flesh lying in the field, eyes half-closed and already glazing over. We carried him to the mare, but she would have none of him, sidestepping our every attempt to help him help himself to a mouthful or two of the lifegiving elixir she alone could provide, or deny.

—Survival of the fittest, she neighed. —Can't feed 'em both. Look at him, puny runt, he'll never make it anyway.

—He'll never make it without mother's milk, I scolded.

But we took him anyway, blanket-wrapped and laid him on the floor of the three-quarter ton truck bed, our young daughters holding watch, thrilled to be allowed to ride in the open air for once, thrilled at the thought of having a foal for a home pet.

Back at the house we settled him inside a small greenhouse that hadn’t yet been put to use.

—Not the right place, I worried at my partner. —Not enough air.

—It's all we've got, we don't have a shed and we can't leave him in the open.

I bit my lip. It was true, any foal, never mind one in his condition, would be easy prey for a coyote prowling up from the park or stray dog foraging in the neighbourhood.

—At least leave the door open a crack so he doesn't suffocate, I conceded.

We prepared borrowed baby formula and fed him from a bottle every hour or so. He couldn't take much at any given time. We would have prayed, but we had never been much for praying. You did what you could, that's all, was our motto. By evening he seemed stronger and we left him dancing on wobbly legs.

Monday came, a work day, a school day. I drove home at noon to check on him. When I got there the greenhouse door was tight shut, the foal lying on his side on the dirt floor. I slammed the door open, too late. Our little refugee had no breath, no vital signs, his body’s warmth not an indicator of life but of the force of the sun that beat down on him.

—What idiot did this to you? I railed. But of course, he had no answer for me, just the calm of death telling me: It’s too late. Don’t waste your breath. Don’t get lost in hopeless causes to find justice. And leaving me to wonder: Did he even have a fighting chance to begin with? What chance does a newborn have when its mother rejects it out of hand?

After the vet came to confirm what I already knew, I cried. We all did. We wept with the frustration of losing him now. We wept at the tragedy of his too-short life. We had hoped against hope for a second miracle.

But really, was this foal any less of a miracle than his sister? If anything, he was the greater miracle, even though he didn’t live, because he fought against greater odds.

And there is this too: In the single weekend we had him in our care he touched the hearts of two children and two adults in a way that the surviving twin never would. For a while we were all pulling together, united in our efforts to give the little foundling we had fallen in love with, a half-decent chance at life.

Tags: QaR, animals, influence, life, love, meaning, horses, miracles

What's your most vivid childhood memory?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 21:05:36 GMT

Perhaps not most vivid, but memories of my grandpa are way up there among my best memories. And being as how this is father's day, let me tell you a story:

After a lifetime of farming he retired to our town, bought a house on 11th, a white two-story kiddy-corner across the street from one of my classmates (the only other lefthander), though not really a friend of mine, shy girl that I was, talented boy that he was. Years later I would be blown away by his rendering of honky-tonk on an old piano on Main Street outside his dad’s grocery store, the street closed off for Old Time Value Days. I remember we had the Harmonicats that year too. They weren’t from our town and they were really good, but I thought Billy was right up there with them. I don’t think he knew I existed.

11th street was ‘miles’ away from where we lived on 6th Street South---seems far when you’re nine and seven---and going there was like entering a different world.

The garage cum workshop had cool tools like a saw and a vise, and grandpa’d show us how they work and let us try, under careful supervision of course. And there was a wheelbarrow, red paint weathered, sides rotting, it had definitely seen better days. But we revelled in wheeling each other down the street in it, to a chorus of “Can I?”s from neighbourhood children stuck with tricycles, small bicycles with training wheels, sparkling red wagons or plain shank’s mare.

Grandpa’s house had the tallest swings around, they challenged us to fly. “I’m higher than you-u, na-na-na-na-na-na!” “No, you-re no-ot, I a-a-a-a-m!” And the trees we climbed, bravado-ing each other onto the flimsiest branches. But somehow we always knew when to head back to the trunk and sturdier branches. At grandpa’s house we were allowed to crawl down the stairs headfirst. Well, mom says we weren’t and if she had known that and about the trees she would have had a thing or two to say, if you know what I mean.

It was different when grandma died---no more sleepovers, no one to snug us to bed, lullaby us to sleep or tape up our knees when we fell.

But grandpa would come to our house and plant himself on a chair just there inside the livingroom so he could talk to mom, who was always busy with something, in the kitchen preparing a meal or maybe just passing through to tend to some child’s needs. And where he sat was an open invite for us kids to climb on him, show him our treasures and tell him all about our latest adventures.

“And then, grandpa, grandpa, you know what…?” tugging at his arm, feathering our fingers over his bristly chin, anything to draw his attention back from mom or sister or whatever else had grabbed it for a moment.

Plus, he was always good for a hug.

Sometimes he’d take us places, just us kids in the car, like when we went to the cemetery to help him weed and water a flower bed he’d planted on grandma’s grave, marked with ‘Helena’ on a small wooden homemade cross because the earth hadn’t settled enough yet for a headstone.

Tags: QaR, childhood, memories, memory, life, grandfather, grandpa

What belief would you like to give up?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 20:15:52 GMT

The one that has me thinking I can't fly.

Birds make great sky circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling
they're given wings.
---Rumi

Jonathan Livingston Seagull - Dear Father

Tags: QaR, beliefs, life, letting go, flying, limitations, Rumi

What would you like to give?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 17:38:17 GMT

Myself, but not what I usually think of when I say *myself.* Not my self.

Not my body, my soul, my mind, although they may be involved in the giving.
Not my personal power. If I give it away, I have no will left to give, no self to give from.
Not my *voice*, my essence. Not what makes me, me.
Not my freedom to choose responsibility. Though my power of choice may be restricted in physical ways, no one can take from me the power that I have to accept and *own* whatever comes, and to be at peace with it.
Not my duty, nor any gift or action that might come from any sense that I owe you, or that I am responsible for you, or that I am to blame for what happened to you.
Not my forgiveness. If "You hurt me" doesn't live outside my thoughts, what is there to forgive? Except maybe myself, for believing my thoughts.

So here then is what I would like to give, always to the best of my ability:
My listening, with heart, soul, mind.
My sharing, of experience, of joy or sorrow, of whatever else feels right.
My presence, though not necessarily physical.
My compassion, but not necessarily sympathy, because one who accepts responsibility for her life does not require, or even want, sympathy.
My encouragement, for you to find your voice, your truth, your light, and to take responsibility for your life.
My acceptance of you as a person and a spiritual being.
My love.

RAUL MIDON HERBIE HANCOCK I JUST CALLED TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Tags: QaR, giving, abundance, listening, sharing, love, compassion, encouragement, acceptance, presence

1001 yeses

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 00:26:47 GMT

I wake up whole again, joy-full.
A thousand yeses on my tongue
shimmy past yesterday's doldrums.
An incandescence shouts: I AM LOVE!

Remembrance arrives: Before anything, love.

Yes!

Tags: awakening, joy, love, yes, awareness

What value is most important for you right now?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 22:07:30 GMT

Authenticity.

Tags: QaR, values, life, integrity, self, authenticity

In what areas of your life do you want to learn more?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 02:18:07 GMT

Actually, I want to learn less. Or maybe I want to learn to want to learn less. It's outside knowledge, intellectual knowledge I want to learn less of, so that it interferes less with the inner knowing (not knowledge) that is already there, that makes itself known in the silent, listening moments. I guess what I really want is to learn to trust enough to live from the inside out, rather from the outside in, and to live that way all the time, not just some of the time. Outside-in living has so many limitations; it's trying to fit a world of perceptual illusion into a world of pure being. Inside-out living works every time. It's pure, authentic living. It's real. Real-to-real living. It opens up a universe of possibilities.

There was a time when I thought if only I could learn enough about my past, about my heritage, then I'd know who I was. Then I'd be ready to start living. But it's really the other way around, isn't it? When I can leave my past behind me, or accept it, integrate it without having to know every detail; when I can shake off all the illusions---mine, those of my family and my people---and all the expectations of who I'm supposed to be in the world; when I can give up having to figure it all out; when can I give up the need to intellectualize everything; then I am free to start living. But it's a different kind of living. It's not goal-oriented, it's not overly planned, it's not rigid. What it is, is balanced.

Byrds - "Turn Turn Turn"

Tags: QaR, learning, life, education, exploration, trust, balance

Rabih Abou-Khalil

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 01:47:43 GMT

Rabih Abou-Khalil - Ma Muse M'amuse

OUD - Jazz - Sunrise In Montreal

Tags: music, jazz, world, fusion, oud, Rabih Abou-Khalil

Do you use relationships as your mirror?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 23:14:12 GMT

There's a photo of me as a toddler---maybe a year old---where I'm sitting on a kitchen chair in the yard, holding a small, handled mirror. The story is, giving me the mirror was the only way they could stop me from crying long enough to have my picture taken.

For much of my life I looked to others to tell me who I am. My own mirror was murky, clouded, it was unable to tell me who I was, and others' apparent opinions about me didn't seem to confirm what or who I thought I was either.

I looked to others to reflect me to me because I wasn't sure who I was. I know this now: Nobody can reveal to me who I really am---how could they know if I don't know myself? So what I see in the mirror another holds up for me is my own self doubt, my questions, my uncertainty about who I am, perhaps (as in a funhouse mirror) magnified a thousand fold. And on top of that, most people are only capable of seeing me (or anyone) through their own filters, through the filmy substance of their illusions and their perceptions about who I am, or should be. So by the time I get the reflection back, it's my questions and my self-conceptions interpreted through their filters, overlaid with their illusions and perceptions...

So no, I don't depend on others to mirror myself back to me, not any more. I don't even depend on what I see reflected in my own mirror---I have looked at my own reflection and seen a complete stranger. The thing is, I have my own filters, I see myself through my own illusions. And in a way the reflection itself is an illusion. If I pay too much attention to it I'm lost; the longer I look at the reflection the less sure I am, and the more I feel separate.

Me and reflections go back a long way, and if I've learned anything it's this: I can't rely on the mirror---whether glass, human, or whatever else---to tell me who I am. I get sidetracked, I get detoured too often if I do. I get lost in the illusion. The answers are within. No need for mirrors there.

Joni Mitchell - Both Sides Now (Live, 1970)

[Image source]

Tags: QaR, relationships, mirror, self, filters, illusion, questions, answers

Where do you belong?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sat, 30 May 2009 20:42:22 GMT

Right here, right now, in the here-now that is this moment. Yup, after a lifetime of feeling like an alien looking for a planet to call home I have discovered the one place where I belong. Not that it was eluding me, I was just looking in the wrong places. Don't we always look outside ourselves first? But when we look inside, we find that home is there, love is there, everything we were ever looking for is already there.

Buffy Sainte-Marie - Up Where We Belong

Tags: Q&R, belonging, comfort, self, identity, here, here-now, home, Buffy Sainte-Marie

Flowers across the sky

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Fri, 29 May 2009 21:46:38 GMT

Large and small stars in harmonious coexistence (NASA/ESA Hubble)

Flowers open every night
across the sky, a breathing peace,
and sudden flame catching.
---Rumi

Tags: night sky, stars, flowers, peace, harmony, flame, Rumi

If you could play any instrument, what would it be?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Wed, 27 May 2009 21:47:40 GMT

I would play them all. I don't think there is a single instrument that, having heard, I haven't wanted to play. But okay, just for today let me pick this one:

Jal-tarang - Katthak -Darpan ( Mirror)

That's Milind Tulankar playing the jaltarang.

Here he is again, this time with Sunil Avchat on bansuri (bamboo flute), which may well be my very favourite instrument of all... ah, but I can't decide:

Jugalbandi - Jaltarang & Flute

Such a pretty combination, in my opinion. The music is so peaceful, it soothes me, brings me back to centre every time I hear it.

Tags: QaR, music, instrument, learning, song, jaltarang, Milind Tulankar, bansuri, bamboo flute, Sunil Avchat

What question would you like to be asked each day?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Tue, 26 May 2009 23:15:52 GMT

Is that true?

Come to think of it, I already ask it of myself, and far more than once a day. It's Byron Katie's way of questioning the validity of one's thoughts.

Tags: QaR, question, values, life, reminders, Byron Katie

inside the burning

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Sun, 24 May 2009 23:16:53 GMT

RAD 2009

Tags: smoke, fire, core, burning, flame, Rumi

Where would you like to go deeper in your life?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Fri, 22 May 2009 19:38:29 GMT

into fear
into the fire
into the depths
into everything that
ego and natural instinct
urge me to stay well clear of

into all and everything and nothing

into the mindless thoughtfulness
of thought-free mindfulness
into peace and clarity and
wordless understanding
into boundless love
into oneness

Tags: QaR, life, exploration, insight, intuition, peace, clarity, love, oneness, understanding

kiss from a rose: not your typical anniversary celebration

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Wed, 20 May 2009 00:16:04 GMT

Today is the anniversary of a death that happened a long, long time ago, and that was probably the single most important event, or at least, turning point, in my life. The time and circumstance of his showing up, the unfolding of relationship, the dying—all within the short space of a year and a half. Unless of course you count the decades it took me to come to terms with his dying.

It was only a year and a half ago that I first managed to write anything at all about how I was affected by that death. Much more recently I was finally able to write about the rest of it, a wider perspective on the living and the dying and the relationship, and about the important role it played in my life as a whole. The healing, when it came, took place on so many levels, extending into other relationships and events I’d struggled all my life to understand. It is only now, today, that I truly see the magnitude of the gift he gave me—today, while tears of gratitude and joy sweeten the oceans of sadness I fed over the years.

I had thought of posting Seal’s video "Prayer for the Dying," but then again, this is a tribute to life, not death, and besides, Al never was dying. He was very much alive, so much more alive than most people I’ve known. He was vibrantly alive until the moment his heart stopped beating. So how about this then?

KISS FROM A ROSE (ACOUSTIC VERSION) - Seal

Tags: anniversary, celebration, life, death, dying, gift, turning point, healing, Seal, Kiss from a Rose

What is shifting in your thinking?

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Thu, 14 May 2009 20:00:35 GMT

I believe there is an innate order to life, a falling of things into place, given a minimum of interference (aka control) from no doubt well-meaning humans.

Where there is interference, I believe in letting the resulting chaos (if any) be; in allowing it to churn and roil for as long as is necessary until it again finds balance.

An innate order of things, a perfect state of balance (or however we want to put it) does not mean that everyone survives, or that no one gets hurt. It doesn't guarantee what we in duality might call a happy ending. But accepting that the universe knows what it's doing, brings peace. That acceptance is essentially all that is required to come to the understanding that things are as they should be; and acceptance comes gradually from an inner vigilance and from taking an observer's standpoint to what is happening around us.

I have learned that leaping into the fray is not useful. Following the heart into it could be---it depends on whether the heart is pure. Following the still small voice, which is not (necessarily) a voice at all, is the surest way.

There is no possibility of any of this coming *right* from any place outside of here-now. There are many voices clamoring to be heard. The still small one is the only one that lives exactly here-now and nowhere else.

[Photo source]

Tags: QaR, thinking, shifting, thoughts, beliefs, order, balance, acceptance, peace, here-now

Tuesday afternoon

http://gospelwriter.gaia.com — Tue, 12 May 2009 18:34:09 GMT

Well, ok, so it's still morning here on the west coast of Canada, but it's Tuesday, and afternoon will roll around soon enough. Anyway, I happened on samiyam's blog just now and it reminded me (which, if you look at its title, I'm sure it was meant to) of this song by one of my alltime favourite bands (and believe me, there are many).

Tuesday Afternoon-The Moody Blues-(Long Extended Version)

Oh well, since I'm strolling down memory lane anyway, here's another:

Dawning Is The Day ~ Moody Blues

Oops, would you look at the time! Gotta run.

Tags: Tuesday Afternoon, Moody Blues, Dawning is the Day