When is silence golden?

One of the many things Facebook offers is the opportunity to speak your mind and let others know how you feel. Among my Swedish friends the opinion barometer is much like the Scandinavian temperament - stabile. My American friends, however, are more polarized than I ever imagined possible. For one who finds herself constantly contemplating the balance between truthfullness and diplomacy, I am, to say the least, challenged on pretty much a daily basis.

Case in point: Someone writes in her status box that she supports same-sex marriage. Among the comments a friend writes that he, too, supports same-sex marriage, but he feels that its legality should be decided by state government. Yet another friend questions the previous comment, wondering why all individuals can't be treated equally? The reason, according to the first friend, is that laws should be defined by the people of the state and examples such as laws banning father-daughter marriages as well as sibling marriages are used to support this argument.

I happen to belong to the category of people who believe in allowing two, consenting adults to enter marriage regardless if they are hetero-, homo-, or bisexual. I didn't add my own comment, but I was tempted to write something to the friend who believed that state governments should decide who gets to marry whom, something like: Then if I understand you correctly, you wouldn't have anything against not being able to marry your wife, should you happen to live in a state that banned heterosexual marriage?

But instead I got to thinking about WHY I wanted to write something? What was my true intention? A person who is against same-sex marriage is hardly likely to get me to change my view, so I'm assuming that the same goes for him as well. What's the point of beating a dead horse? On the other hand, maybe by letting people know my point of view, it would be possible to sway opinion enough in the direction towards change?

Maybe by speaking out I am being egotistical? Or is it perhaps by remaining silent I am simply a coward?

What would the Buddha have done?

A new kind of prayer

I remember from my when I guess I was about ten, that my mom was going to go on a retreat by herself. Curious, I asked her what one does on a retreat? She explained that it's a quiet place you go to so that God can talk to you. Upon hearing that, I so wanted to be able to go, too. Imagine God talking directly to me! That would make life so much easier!!

I grew up in a Roman Catholic family. You went to church every Sunday, without exception. We learned to recite prayers, and most of our evenings ended with us reciting them together before going to bed. I really yearned to find some sort of sprituality, already as a young child. I read bible stories, got involved in youth groups, participated in church plays. Yet I did most of it out of duty, because we were taught that sinners when to hell.

Prayers were either about wishing for something I didn't have or asking forgiveness so as not to end up on St. Peter's "naughty list" should we unexpectedly end up in front of his pearly gates. We were taught to do as we were told without question. Even after moving to Sweden I felt compelled to at least go to Christmas and Easter mass.

My turning point came about 15 years ago, while seated in a pew towards the back end of the dome catherdral in Kalmar. It was Easter mass, and the priest was offering his prayer to the Lord, proclaiming that we were not worthy of Him. That's when my cup runneth over, and I left. I haven't been back since.

Now in meditation, I realize that I am in fact praying, praying to my silence, as I call it. Nowadays my prayers consist of requests for guidance, tools to aid me in my quest towards the divinity within my soul. At first I thought I was just alone with my thoughts, but now I tend to believe that there actually is a universal benevolence with limitless love and intelligence. It offers me answers.

For the first time in my life, I feel as though God is talking to me.

With all due respect,

I don't mean to step on your toes. Unless, of course, you feel that I am addressing YOU.

It happened again at yesterday's yoga class, which, by the way, was a great class. There's something about certain students who have practiced other types of yoga. Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe all yoga is good yoga, but I do have a problem with students coming to my Virya class without any intention of practing Virya yoga.

What I, in turn, see, are students who lack all form of reflection in their poses and who disregard the purpose I am trying to convey. They tune out completely, self-absorbed in their own little (Do your practice and all is coming?) bubbles, and don't even show the least bit of interest in learning the biomechanics of the positions and transitions which are vital to a healthy practice.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, if you want to freestyle and/or do it all your way, don't come to my class and disturb the other students. Or rather, don't selfishly steal the focus from the rest of the class who have an amicable agreement to practice individually-together in a peaceful decorum.

Now that I've agitated a number of yogis who would beg to differ, I may as well continue while standing on my soapbox because yesterday evening I broke what is for some a huge taboo: I yoga'd to music. No, correction: music and lyrics! I've always had a secret urge to do it, and, yes, there are a lot of renowned yoga teachers out there who use music in their practice. You all know that I love being ironic, right?

Anyhow, I am a self-admitted Body Balance nerd. So yesterday I played the soundtrack to Body Balance release #30 during my own mat practice and loved every minute of it. I am, at times, somewhat of a technique freak, and the beautiful tones, beats, and rhythms I heard unleashed within me a true sensation of flow. Just as the music felt as though it ran like currents through my veins, I could sense my prana coarsing through my nadis.

Even if I don't do it every time, I'm definitely going to do it again.

An alternative to the ugly cry

To start off, my life could be so much worse. My life could be plagued with tragedy and distress. That is so not the case. But since I tend to adapt very well to "having it good", when things get imbalanced, needless to say it effects my mood. The past month has been, for several reasons, more trying than the months prior.

I have always been a crier. I can cry at a drop of a hat. I hate it. I wish I could cry on demand, like an actress, but I can't. But when I am overcome with the urge, and that black, hard cloud forms in my throat, it is almost impossible to stop and seems to come when it's least convenient. The last time it happened was a few weeks ago, and it craved all my willpower to swallow my tears, that which was bound to turn into an "ugly" cry, and the clump proceeded to land like a lump of coal in the bottom of my stomach. It has stayed there since. It disturbs my sleep as well as my digestion. My threshold for stress is almost non-existent.

Yesterday's weather suited my mood hand-in-glove. It was gray, dreary, wet, and windy. It was spring at its ugliest, to be frank. I had to go to my sauna-on-the-sea. I needed the 180 degree heat (80 degrees C) to sweat out my frustration. And when I couldn't stand it anymore, I walked outdoors and submerged my clothesless body into the 40 degree water (5 degrees C).

It's like when someone who's gone into cardiac arrest is given those paddles, and a medic yells, "Clear!"

The shock of the cold literally froze my tension and cracked it open like a clamshell. The intense sensation of going from one extreme to the other purged my seemingly pointless, blackened emotions. I reminded myself as I afterwards rested my head against my propped up hand in the heat, staring through the window over the gray, choppy sea, that pain and suffering are an essential part of life's all-inclusive package. And the amount I've been dealt out thus far isn't even close to being unbearable.

Even so, that, too, will pass.

Terminal escapism

This is how my mind (re)acted while reading a yoga magazine the other day:

Me: Hmm...a yoga and meditation retreat....

Mind: I wanna go on a yoga and meditation retreat!

Me: Oh, look, a guru's going to offer the participants "shaktipat"...

Mind: It's not fair; I want SHAKTIPAT!!

Me: Interesting article about Ayurvedic treatments...

Mind: I want, no, I NEED Ayurvedic treatments!!!

It reminds me of how I used to fantasize my escape from whatever stress or frustration I at times found myself experiencing. I pictured myself impulsively packing my bags and passport, followed by me arriving at an airport terminal where I could study the departure sign in search of an exotic destination - ANY exotic destination. My so-called reasoning resounded itself like a mantra in my thoughts, "If I could just get a break, a chance to rest and recharge; that's all I need..."

I learned eventually that just as the term "terminal" in a medical sense means in essence a dead-end, this type of daydreaming was getting me exactly nowhere. But while I may have made some progress intellectually, it seems that my mind is still trying to lobby for my ego's desires. Just as you can see by reading my mind's "comments", it is simply trying to delude me by wrapping up my self-centered desires in pretty, seemingly soulful, yogic packages. *Sigh* I thought I was past this!

One thing is for sure: I am still searching, always searching. In meditation this morning I started out by asking my silence, "What am I searching for?" But I quickly reworded my question to, "What should I be trying to find?"

I was somewhat surprised by the speedy reply:

Silence: Happiness

Me: Is that all? What about everything else, the retreat, shaktipat, and stuff like that?

Silence: Seriously, do you need anything other than happiness?

Me: No, but...

Silence: (says nothing - typical(!))

Me: OK. When you're right, you're right.

So freakin' obvious - and just as brilliant as it was simple.