Showing posts with label Vipassana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vipassana. Show all posts

Friday, August 8, 2014

CAMEL RIDE-GIZA AGAIN


We started our journey in Giza. (http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/07/camel-ride-part-one.html)  We ended in Giza, as well. Sandwiched in-between were layers of Egyptian mystery that we peeled back. (http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/08/the-temple-of-karnack.html.)

As I re-enter Giza to say goodbye to its land, people, camels and customs, I feel an inner calm.  I carry with me mysterious adventures come to life.  Entering the King’s Tomb on my knees remains with me as does seeing “Sechmet,” daughter of Ra, The Sun God.

I walk deep across desert sands toward looming pyramids. I walk away from noisy vendor stands, arrayed with colorful Kurtas, perfume and food.  Choosing my spot, I sit down to meditate in the heat of the desert sun. I clasp my hands, thumbs touching. I sit cross-legged on the golden sand.

I close my eyes. Slowly, I am aware of my breath. I sit still for a long while. Slowly, I sense a strange, reverberating force pulsating toward me from afar.

Trained in Vipassana mindfulness meditation, I keep my eyes closed. As the Palm Desert bell ringer, I learned not to flinch, open my eyes, or react to flies buzzing around me. The practice: breathe in and out, noticing and allowing.

Today is no different. Time is silent; am I halfway through my meditation? My eyes remain closed, noticing. Breathing in and breathing out.

The sand is alive, bringing grumbling, rolling thunder into my ears. Breathing in and breathing out. Watching the phenomenon rise and fall. The hammering from high above eventually penetrates my calm.

Breathing in and breathing out.

The rumbling commotion comes closer and closer. The distance thins. Then suddenly, sandstorms are upon me. I hear shouts. The uproar and pounding hooves are unrelenting. I remain, breathing in and out.

With hoofed feet wrapped in whispering sands, the cacophony engages me. I sit, unmoving. The pounding hooves stop abruptly --- within seconds of my skin. Men high above shriek words which are strange to my ears.

I sit, spine erect, breathing in and breathing out.
 Am I being threatened?

My eyes are closed.

The demanding energy roars above me.

Breathing in and breathing out.

As I sit in stillness, a strange thing happens. As powerful as the vocalizations had been, there is now a pervasive quiet.

To my surprise, camel feet encircle me completely. Several camels lean down, putting their face close to me as I sit. Camel breath comes near mine.


As camels and I share breath, the men are also quiet. The camels communicate a rapturous tranquility. I am enclosed in reverence. Astonished, my breath grows shallow. I am encircled in a community of prayers.  

I am breathing in and out … just like the camels … just like the men.

I fill with gratitude and unshed tears.

Breathing in and breathing out.

We remain like this for a long time.  

Breathing in and breathing out.

Prayerfully, the camels one by one, with their men, move silently from the circle. And they slowly begin their pilgrimage back from where they came.

Later, I open my eyes, the dust nearly gone from hoof storms far away.

While Vipassana meditations usually involve an insight garnered, this one transitioned from reality to dreamlike…and then gently slid me into an alternate, elevated reality. Such is the transformational power of the desert.











Friday, July 18, 2014

CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Working My Way Back To You, BABE


Animals are my friends... and I don't eat my friends.
                                                                              ~George Bernard Shaw

The Long And Winding Road

Today I made my vegan version of a Philly Cheese Sandwich recipe. The truth is that I did not embrace this recipe in the blink of an eye. MOVE OVER PHILLY, THERE’S A NEW SANDWICH IN TOWN

In leadership and organizational development, we make declarations for what we want, integrating values and vision to support those stands.  A shift in paradigms leads to a peaceful, dynamic, non-conflicting life. We’re works in progress. When I’ve taken a stand, as when my clients do, it creates a new field of relatedness such that the entire universe and world conspires to support that new stand. New life is created from it, with all the resources needed to live it.

Through meditation, fissures or mind splits can be healed.  As I let myself breathe in and out, I watch thoughts and conflicts rise and fall. When I meditate on a meditation passage I let elevated words drop down into my consciousness like a balm, erasing negative conditioning.

I did not have those tools earlier in life. Inside of me, clashing values raged. Eating was deeply disquieting. (Please see my other blogs on the subject: CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: The Day I Heard A Fis... and CONFESSIONS OF A VEGETARIAN: Seeking Freedom Living in a vegetarian collective helped me. But when I moved from that home, I still sporadically ate fish and fowl.

I was estranged from food. Often, I felt sick. I was consuming my own conflict. And conflict isn’t digestible. And after haggling with doctors pressuring me to eat more animal life, I finally found hope.

I became a Vipassana meditator. I met other vegetarians. Then one of my sisters asked me to find a holistic veterinarian for her dog, Lancelot, who had cancer. The veterinarian put Lancelot on a pure rice and vegetarian diet. While it did not cure him, it did give almost another year of life. My sister decided if Lancelot was to have that daily diet, she would too. While I was wrestling with vegetarianism, she became one. Overnight. Later when she gave birth, she passed that lifestyle on to her children.

I made a decision. My sister had health issues. If she did not get worse, I would be a full vegetarian. My sister got healthier; I became a card-carrying vegetarian. Magically, I got stronger and suddenly was in love with eating. I lost weight and loved cooking.

I come from a richly integrated family of blood and adopted family. My nieces, who were vegetarians as children, were star athletes; my brother, a senior, walks to work at 5 a.m.; my sister and I remain full vegetarians. I have another niece who is a full vegetarian and my other sister is a partial vegetarian. I have a whole social community of 100% vegetarians, forty or more sitting together on feast days. I have amazing friends and family, some vegetarian and some not, which share vegetarian meals with me. I am blessed.

Dear reader, what’s your journey into conscious eating? And what’s yours, vegetarians? As conflicts go, be sure to cash in on a happy ending.