Reflections on my visit in Israel

I began to see Israel this time not from the eyes of a tourist, but to a small extent, through the eyes of those who live there and have made Israel their home. From our meeting with Yosi and Dina Haim, who invited us into their home for Shabbat dinner... to my conversations (in my broken Hebrew) with many cab drivers... to an afternoon exploring the Carmel market and old parts of Tel Aviv with Mira Korn... to lunch with Adam Griesman in lev shel Tel Aviv at the Ben Ami coffee shop... each of these experiences deepened and broadened my love of this land and my understanding of her contradictions.

I find this country to be one where the natural contradictions of life are played out more vividly. Where "yes" and "no" go on in a tension tighter than any place else I have encountered. Old and new of the cities intertwined, ancient and modern culture in contrast, Hebrew spoken as a native tongue and yet also for some reserved only for prayer, the frenetic pace at which every one lives - just watch out when you cross the street if you doubt this -- and yet it all comes to a stop on Shabbat only to burst forth again the next evening, the pulse of life so palpable, the colorful landscapes with every shade of cream and bronze and gold and purple and faded shades of green... and yet from up close it is just muted and dusty and gritty and dry and sand. Rich and poor is Tel Aviv with the beautiful shades of blue of the Mediterranean, lined with new high rise apartments and condominiums overlooking it, yet the city is often dirty and looks like a run down Miami beach.

People from all lands... who consider themselves to be returning home. And yet others who also wish to claim this land, as if they are the only refuges from this place that has known nothing but to cast those who lived there off to other places time and time again. To whom does such a place really belong? Perhaps only to the strong, to the righteous?

A home land. A place from where I am sure once my ancestors came and to which many have returned. A full circle? Or more like a hurricane, with Jerusalem at the eye of the storm, casting outward... all who enter inward.

A land so fragile and at risk. Where the water is as scarce as the patience. Yet a people strong and determined to make the best of their lot, to make life in a land promised long ago. A country divided left and right, yet united by the desire to remain.

Wave, Particle

I read Michelle's post from July 4 and it made me think, "Is the material world continuous and in flow, or is it a series of static states that are connected."

Like a movie, is life made up of frames, where we can observe each one if we choose? Is there a silence available to us in between each state? Even in a rushing and raging river? Even in the roar of the wind? Even in the dance of a flame? Are they continuous, leaving no room for stillness and silence within their movement?

In a movie, as it is played, we seem to see a continuous flow of movement and events. But in reality, our mind is simply filling in the gaps -- chattering away, interpreting, trying to make sense of what it has seen, and offering up its interpretation. But when we slow that movie down, when we bring it to a stop, we appreciate the trickery of our mind. That what we thought was non-stop and continuous was actually a series of freeze frame images, with a small gap or crease between each image. Our mind wants to believe that it is continuous, and tells us so... but it is not. In between each frame is an opportunity to be quiet and to observe that silence.

The movie is easy, but could I say the same for a river? It flows down toward the ocean. Perhaps it is the mighty Mississippi. Capable of discharging, as it did in August 1993, at a rate of 485 million gallons per minute or 1,080,000 cubic feet per second—a rate sufficient to fill Busch Stadium about every 65 seconds. But isn't that rush of water still only a series of frozen frames in time, observable each, each with a pause in between. Each frozen moment offering a built in opportunity to take a breath and just watch. I think so.

The question is not a new one. And the debate is not settled by science. Light has been observed to have dual qualities of wave and particle. "In physics and chemistry, wave–particle duality is the concept that all matter and energy exhibits both wave-like and particle-like properties. A central concept of quantum mechanics, duality addresses the inadequacy of classical concepts like "particle" and "wave" in fully describing the behaviour of small-scale objects. Various interpretations of quantum mechanics attempt to explain this ostensible paradox." (See Wikipedia for Wave–particle duality).

Perhaps our hearts are the continuity. Our soul, our observation, carries us between the frozen frames. The material world needs observers. Observe - watch over. Those who will keep things safe from above. We can remain out of the fray and revel in the gaps and folds of time standing still.

Another Friday Night is on the Way

Another week is coming to its conclusion, and I can sense the peace of Sabbath approaching. I am giddy with anticipation and I am feeling at peace. It is interesting when I can hold those two emotions togther, producing a settling, centering, and quieting affect. Thoughts turn to Friday night and then Saturday's rest from work, which produces good feelings that move me towards leading a better life.

The Sabbath and Yoga practice have a lot in common. And I would guess I am not the first person to discuss this. (Although this is the first time this has occurred to me.) The word "Shabbat" is built from the Hebrew root "שבת" (shin-bet-tov) which means "sit". And in Yoga, we practice "Asana" (आस) which comes from the Sanscrit word meaning "to sit down."

For me, both the practice of Asana and of Shabbat are paths to the same end. Each asks that we sit, quiet ourselves, and center ourselves. They allow us to take measure, observe, and be present. They prepare us and cause us to turn inwards to find what is divine within, and from there, we can shine back out and brighten the world around us. From this inner point of peace, we can engage ourselves in the material world and lift it up towards its source, helping the world reconnect with its original divinity, eternity, & infinity.

The Glass is half full, and I'm burning the candle at both ends, but my cup runneth over,

I am learning to see myself as a cup running over...

We can each imagine ourselves as a candle, a glass or cup? What fills us up, what make us bright, what causes us to bubble over with enthusiasm? And how do we avoid allowing our wellspring of inspiration to run dry? How do we burn bright without burning out? The candle burns from both ends might burn brighter, but at what cost. So the saying the candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long. But what if one could have all of that brightness for more than half of the time? For most of the time? Where would the endurance come from?

My father used to describe to me how he thought it was best to stay at 5-6 on a scale of 1-10. He thought it best not to get too high, nor too low on our success, failures, ourselves and our lives. He would say, "let it rain... and just stay under the umbrella." Call it denial, but he could weather most any storm by simply not engaging it. It is how he could be happy or satisfied having found something he was reasonably good at and to which he was willing to grind away in order to make it shine. I think he felt it was the best way to have enough endurance to stay at something long enough to make it work. His gold was always at the bottom of the barrel and he was willing to dig at it long enough to make it happen.

I on the other hand tended (still tend) to operate closer to a 1 or 10. I am often either fully engaged or unplugged. Not that I want to live that way, but it has/had become my nature, and something that I am working on improving. Maybe now I am better able to recognize sooner rather than later when I am headed for a 1... which usually happens right after I was striving for operating at 10. For Dad, living at a 5-6 was a solution to his problem. For me, being unplugged was the trough that followed each peak.

Where I might take a stick of dynamite to blow up an obstacle, his approach was more like using drops of water to work away at obstacles until they were diminished. I learned from him that most "problems" are not real, and will go away if you can just ignore them or leave them alone.

Rabbi Sigal Brier once told me, "You don't have to feel like you are drinking your well dry. Think rather of the Kiddish cup running over with wine. So much there that all you need to do is sip off the excess." I like that thought and I return to it often... hopefully before I reach a point where I feel depleted. And sometimes before I drink too much from my well...

For me, I am seeking to be a Kiddish cup, running over, always enough, always plenty, always more to sip at and to taste the joy that life can be... especially on Friday nights.

Deamons!

I can run & hide, but tire & run out of places to hide. I can stand and fight, but that tires too. So, I invite you in to be observed.

Thank You D!

Darren,

What a great class you offered to us last night. Thank you. Your words struck the very cord that I have been playing in the last two weeks.

From where does joy emerge? How do we seek it? Is seeking peace, tranquility, equanimity enough? And of course not... JOY must be sought!

And the story you told of 15 more years of suffering to grow to suffer some more to only realize that joy awaits... thank you again. It is not enough to suffer and grow for the sake of suffering more and growing more. And I know, the work need not be suffering... and even if it feels like suffering, I think it should only be the work of digging a tunnel through the mountian... making one's passage to the other side easier.

While digging, diamonds of joy emerge from time to time, and I appreciate your describing how they can be held, cherrished, & accumulated.

I had never thought of my world getting smaller when I hide. But you are right, it does. When negative feelings emerge, I thank you again for sharing that hiding from them (a defense mechanism that perhaps is effective in a short run) only makes my world smaller. Your insight... that they just find you where you hide, and in time there are fewer and fewer places to hide. The box gets smaller.

And thank you for letting me share with you how this insight of yours aligns with where I have been in the last two weeks. That I was tired of fighting my deamons and could not bear hiding in dwindling disconnected places that prevented me from being the person I want to be. The person I have the will to be. So as I come onto the mat, my deamons are invited to the practice at my side, where I can observe them rather than trying to tamp them down or hide from them. As it turns out they don't like Yoga as much as I do.

Anxiety, Stress, Pain

I have tired of fighting that fight. And I have tired of fleeing from it as well. I have stopped asking where they came from. They will reveal their source in time. And I will stop asking what they mean, as they are only reactive sensations and not something to which meaning can be ascribed.

When I feel the pangs of anxiety or stress, the ones that cause the prana to surge in my arms and legs, stomach, and head, I am not going to fight them. That just produces thoughts about future scenarioes, most of which will never exist. I know that I am not more prepared for the future by having dwelt upon it.

I am not going to withdraw and ignore these feelings, as they will only return stronger. And, besides, where would I go to hide when I ignore these feelings. That only leads to a withdrawal from life. It leads to a disconnection that holds no yoga with spirit, family, friends, self, and loved ones.

Rather, I am just going to accept these feelings as they arise and thereby render them powerless. They will simply be my companion and I will silently seek them out and observe them.