Traveling Mercies*

I’m home now after the longest travel day/night of my lifetime.

I did get sick in Assisi. Oh, well, my physical vulnerability was obviously needed for me to STOP. And STOP I did, with temperatures ranging from the 90’s to the 100+’s. And of course, no air conditioning.

Of course.

Some Simple Assisi Insights to Share—

Saying Good Morning!:

For me, it was a privilege, a blessing and a gift to say good morning in another language. Something so simple invited something different to emerge from the other person and between us, a different moment of connection, of deeper, shared presence.

Good morning in Italian— buongirno.

Sometimes I had it to offer.

Sometimes, there was nothing but silence inside my head.

I might then mumble hello, good morning.

About 1:00-2:00, the appropriate greeting becomes

Good day— buonasera

I never was able to say that, not once, being flabbergasted and confused by both time and words.

The Gift of Not Understanding the Language:

By not understanding what people were saying, truly I was given a different perspective on the moment. I couldn’t assume I understood what was going on at all—because I couldn’t. My witnessing of people was deliciously clueless and renewed, delivered from a more spacious and less immediately responsive place. I found this angle shift really a comforting gift. A relief. Spaciousness from others.

I found the Italians to be super-family orientated, most groups seemed to be family units, with children, parents—extended families. This seemed unusual, unlike typical vacationing people here at home. Very interesting and engaging to notice.

The Canine Gift:

Lots of people had dogs with them! This was great for my lonely-canine-heart. Perhaps it’s an Italian thing? A St. Francis thing? Bring your dog to be blessed? Sounds good to me. And oh, it was.

I also discovered the Italians weren’t too interested in my over-emotional, probably very American response of, “OMG, YOUR DOG IS ADORABLE—SO CUTE—CAN I SAY HELLO?” I learned to rope in my responses and keep them personal. My missing Niki (St. Nik as Cat calls her) had to be held in my own heart.

The Weather:

The intensity of heat is worth mentioning. It was new to me, and took so much of my attention, so much of my energy. The heat was so much more than heat. With it came a relentlessness, a never-ending physical holding and pressing that was, quite frankly, excruciating. It hurt to be outside. It actually hurt to be inside, too, without air conditioning.

The heat also strongly influenced the daylight. It was so bright, so unbearably, endlessly bright. It impacted me, my body, my eyes, obviously, my lungs.

Of course, I take responsibility for that last sentence—I pushed too much. Upon arrival I was so happy to be, so eager to walk and move through those magical cobblestone streets, I did too much on days #1 & 2, I walked too far, with too much excited-out-of-my-body movement. My lungs couldn’t do it. I had to crash, and stop. And rest. And sweat.

And so, I did exactly that.

I read a fantastic article in the New Yorker in the last few weeks about Europe’s responses to climate change. Very interesting, very engaging, very hopeful. Of course, they admit they have a problem called climate change. That would be the place to start. If anybody’s interested…..

Information Here

A Message from St. Francis:

Sitting at his tomb early on in my visit—and it did this daily—after meditating with him, the message I received in my heart was very clear and very loud.  It said:

“All of this external stuff you deal with—none of it matters, Aruni.  It is all just here for you as proof that I am always, always here.”

Pretty cool.

Remarkably comforting

For my heart,

Incredibly practical.

I will take this message, this insight, away with me, tucked deeply inside my heart.

There’s more to say, too much, perhaps.  I will rest my head and lay my bronchitis-filled-lungs down and return perhaps with more next week, if available, if appropriate.

Traveling Mercies questions for you dear friends:

What was your richest, most valuable travel experience?

What’s hard when you travel?

What’s easy?

Music:

I just “randomly” found this song.  It is absolutely perfect for my moment.  Perhaps there isn’t such a thing as random?

Dolly Parton—Angels in the Midst

 

~~~

LYRICS:

“Oh, oh, mhm

In this life we struggle when all we have to do

Is push aside the rubble, let the light shine through

Why do we wait? Let’s place our faith much higher on the list

Acknowledging the fact there are angels in our midst

Angels in our midst

Angels all around us, sent from heaven’s shores

They are sent to guide us and help us open doors

And amidst the rush and turmoil and chances that we’ve missed

We should know therе’s always hope

There’s angеls in our midst

Oh

Peace be still to know that if we listen close

We will find the answers to what we need the most

And in every rose and rainbow, in every child we kiss

Their presence is apparent

Angels all around us, sent from heaven’s shores

They are there to guide us and help us open doors

And if we’d live open-handed instead of make fists

Hands down, we’d win the battle

There’s angels in our midst

Oh, oh, mhm

In this life we struggle when all we have to do

Is push aside the rubble, let the light shine through

Why do we wait? Let’s place our faith much higher on the list

Acknowledging the fact there are angels in our midst

Angels in our midst

Angels all around us, sent from heaven’s shores

They are sent to guide us and help us open doors

And amidst the rush and turmoil and chances that we’ve missed

We should know therе’s always hope

There’s angеls in our midst

Oh

Peace be still to know that if we listen close

We will find the answers to what we need the most

And in every rose and rainbow, in every child we kiss

Their presence is apparent

There’s angels in our midst

Angels all around us, sent from heaven’s shores

They are there to guide us and help us open doors

And if we’d live open-handed instead of make fists

Hands down, we’d win the battle

There’s angels in our midst”

By Dolly Parton

~~~

Friends,

Give us the courage and the strength

To keep practicing.

Give us the courage and the strength

To keep showing up.

When we can, hallelujah.

When we cannot, hallelujah.

With kindness and focus

May we return

To the moment.

To us,

To others,

To all—

May we each practice being a beacon of kindness.

May all beings benefit from our shared words.

Blessings,

Aruni

~~~

*Title: An ancient Christian prayer for safe and smooth travel.

Also a glorious book by Anne Lamott by the same title, 2022

 

Blessings Not Burdens

Don’t you think being human is bizarrely, crazily, wackily intense? I absolutely do. What a bizarre combination of elements we are. Check it out, we are:

Divinity Incarnate—We are absolutely already home, already done, finished, all divine energy completed and whole, inside of us, as our birthright.

Human Being—We have a mind that grows and develops and then tells us, nope, you are not already home, you are not already done, you better worry about something. LOOK. There’s something to do, to fix, to change, to worry about. We have a mind that pulls us away from our Divinity.

Wrapped in a Body—Yep, we are, and that body holds both our Divinity and our Humanity, and their contradictions.

We are Divine Beings learning how to be human. I believe that. Sometimes I can actually remember it. Then I can’t. Our Divinity is effortless; it is ours, freely given. Of course, to continue to access it is a practice, a lifelong journey. The Human parts? They, however, demand more willfulness, more actions, to support it.

My week is filled with preparation for a Big Trip, going to a Faraway Place. It feels like too much now and yet, of course, all this stuff is completely manageable and will get done; Niki the Dog’s manual for the dog/house sitter, (and I do mean manual), considering what to take, figuring out how to take it, managing the regular parts of my life at the same time, oh, you know, things like teaching and writing this and being with my precious clients. Etc., and then again, etc.

Let me be clear—this is a ridiculously first-world problem. I am blessed, beyond-blessed to have this opportunity to travel, and I know that. Yet I’m also super-skillful at turning the blessings into a bunch of burdens.

Blessings! Not Burdens.

So, how do I do this? How do I manage all the to-dos this week? How do I live into the blessing of this trip while managing the mundane? Here are reminders for me and for you, as we find you and I find our way through our day, our challenges, our opportunities:

• Focus on one thing at a time—This really works. Just one thing.
• Stay right here, right now—I am not sitting on a plane now. I am sitting at my desk.
• Take action, release attachment to the outcome—Right? Do my best, let it be. Write the Nik-the-Dog Manual, drive away, let her go.
• Peek into the wonderfulness up ahead—Remember what’s up ahead, the intent, the goal, the purpose.
• Do all the things that support balanced and regular life—Eat healthy real food, easy movement, sleep as is possible
• Write intentions for the trip—Swami Kripalu said, once you make an intention, the mother of that intention is already alive in your heart. Make an intention; energetically the process begins and is boosted.
• Attend to the three elements of our being—Divinity, keep your heart open to yourself and the essence of the journey. Humanity, make lists, do the stuff, find the suitcase, fill the prescription. Body, take as best care as we are able.

AHHHHH!

So now I know what this blog is about—attending the three elements of our being.

What can you do today to remember, to return to, to realign with the Divinity that you are? Be specific.

What can you attend to today that supports your human needs? How can you attend to those things with balance and breath?

Body? How will you appreciate, support, and honor your body today?

~~~

Music…..Ah……Music:

Kindness! Big YES to kindness, no matter what is happening. Here is an amazing song by Copper Wimmin, covered by Emily Grouse. A comforting melody, appropriate lyrics; its title is Kinder. Enjoy:

~~~

Friends,

With gratitude,

May we find our way

One step at a time.

When there is no gratitude

To be had,

May we find our way back,

Eventually and inevitably.

Give us the courage and the strength

To be right here,

Right now.

Give us courage and strength,

When they are available.

When there are not,

May we find our way back,

Eventually

And

Inevitably.

May all beings benefit from our shared words.

Stay blessed,

 

Aruni

One Thing We Can Be Sure Of? Uncertainty.

I’ve had a week of creeping, mounting uncertainty. As my days unfold, one friend hovers at the end of his life, another waits for a third surgery, each surgery correcting the previous one. My beloved Niki-the-dog wakes one morning, completely lame. The Inner Quest rounds the bend next weekend, always a joy while packed full of unknowns. The Kripalu Ashram Reunion, in which I’m presenting, comes, uncertainty on steroids; all these things (and more) are hollowing me out with nibbling uncertainty.

What The F? That’s a lot, right?

Yes, it is. And, it’s all happening.

I think of Pema Chodron’s book, Comfortable with Uncertainty. This quote, this quote—I return to this quote so often. Here’s Pema, page 2:

“When inspiration has become hidden, when we feel ready to give up,

this is the time when healing can be found in the tenderness of the pain itself…….

This awakens through kinship with the suffering of others.”

Pema’s quote is both comforting and instructive for me. I thought my role on this journey of healing, of aging, of living as a mensch* on the planet was to make sure inspiration never got hidden, that I never felt ready to give up. I really did believe that I should always inspired, trusting, and good-to-go.

Obviously, this is an impossible and unrealistic task, an absurd goal. My role is to partner with Reality, whose name I capitalize out of respect. She is relentless. She is in charge. Whatever happens in my life, may I be more the receiver than the director of the moment.

Pema’s invitation into the pain itself, into its “tenderness”, as the path of healing, I find breathtakingly profound. Sounds like Kripalu Yoga Off the Mat to me—the feelings will come and they will go. Trying to avoid them, change them, hold on to them only block the Flow State, the positive life energy—whatever you choose to call it—that moves us from moment to moment.

And most importantly, Pema talks about “kindship with the suffering of others”. I do believe this is the essence of Kripalu programming. Because we are there not to change each other, not to fix each other (nothing is broken, damn it!), because we are there to witness, to see and be seen, to hear and be heard—everything, all healing becomes possible.

So, what do we do? In the face of uncertainty, what do I do? As best I can, I will practice:

• Keeping it super simple.
• Allowing my experience to be right here, right now, in this moment, in this day.
• Leaning away from worrying about that which hasn’t happened.
• Drawing on my past experience to remember, no matter what, it always worked; I was always carried through.
• Continuing to draw on my faith, on my trust.
• Finding my way forward

We find our way forward.

That’s what we do.

~~~

Music—oh, so helpful. Here’s Leonard Cohen, oh, Leonard, how I wish you weren’t dead. I know, I know, that’s ridiculous. I always think it’s so interesting that you died, Leonard, the day before the election between Trump #1 and Hilary Clinton. Not a bad timing, I guess.

Here is a glorious classic from your remarkable London tour in 2008.

~~~

Friends,

Right here,

Right now,

All is well.

Right here,

Right now,

We are safe.

Right here,

Right now,

We are connected—

To ourselves,

To each other.

Right here,

Right now,

No matter what is happening,

May we

Be blessed.

Right here,

Right now,

May we remember

We are already blessed.

May all beings benefit from the words we share.

Stay blessed,

Aruni

*mensch—Yiddish for a good human, an upstanding and righteous adult

How About You?

 

Did anybody in your life ever teach you to let go?

Okay, forget teach.

Did anybody even suggest that letting go might be a possibility?

Like, an option?

In my family, we had no deep and meaningful discussions about surrendering. To the contrary, my parents’ lives were living energetic examples of:

• Holding on.
• Keeping going.
• Not stopping.
• Getting ahead of It.

Whatever the It-of-the-moment might be.

My parents, Tillie and Sidney, were good, good people. They were worker-bees of the Nth degree. It was all about work. Our lives were rooted in my dad’s neighborhood grocery store, The Colfax Market. He grew up in the store, too—it was his father’s before him. They worked, my parents, side by side, Dad six-and-a-half days a week, Mom, six days a week.

My sister and I were practically raised in the store, which was two blocks from our house on Arthur Avenue and one block from our elementary school, John James Aubudon #42.

It was about pushing through, working hard, coming home, doing it again. Not a lot of conversation about letting go, stopping, relaxing, renewing.

Nothing in my Jewish education, as sketchy as it was (I spent one traumatic day in Hebrew school, terrified because of my stuttering, and many long, endless hours in remarkably boring Sunday School classes), nobody said:

You can let go.

Things come and they go.

People come and they go, too.

There is something else to help you.

There is a Profound Power in the universe protecting you.

You can relax now.

 

Who knew?

Nobody said any of that.

How about you?

~~~

This blog is prompted by this most intense and challenging week of a more literal letting go. We have lived in our little house for almost thirty years. Our basement, which immediately upon moving in became the initial dumping ground of Stuff that didn’t fit anywhere else or Stuff that wasn’t relevant in the moment; strangely enough, Stuff began to multiply itself. Stuff begat Stuff, which gave birth to more Stuff. Boxes seemed to invite other boxes to join them.

The piles were many-layered, top layers hiding their surrounding neighbors really well. I did a few (okay, maybe one, my spouse says), clean-up, got support, carted away the extraneous. The non-relevant.

Nevertheless, the Community of Stuff continued to fester. And I swear, the basement multiplied and grew by itself.

Due to flooding in said basement, the discovery of a crack in the foundation, we had to employ a company to deal with those issues. Along with fixing the crack, de-molding, etc., came this invitation:

THEY WOULD REMOVE ANYTHING WE NO LONGER NEEDED.

They would carry anything up the killer four steps and banish all from our existence.

It seemed impossible to pull this off. Yet, we did it. We spent some hours with a friend, letting go of:

• 1,763 (or so it seemed) old Kripalu catalogues of great historical value
• teaching manuals from every program ever taught at Kripalu (or so it seemed)
• painfully moldy books
• my wetsuit that wouldn’t fit on my one foot today
• the badminton net we never put up
• the now moldy, once blessed L.L. Bean tent
• and on and on and on

Kudos to my spouse, who was, with great cajoling, able to release some of her massive pile of flower pots of every f___ing size and shape.

We did it. It is done.

The basement guys, Brady and Carlos, so young and intentional, so committed, finish in two more days. I cannot even imagine the end result, the New Basement with Limited Piles, might literally knock me out. This week has almost knocked me out already.

It is a miracle of letting go.

Forced letting go.

~~~

If it be old beliefs,

An old pattern that squeezes us,

A person, a place,

Yes, even a thing,

Or a great many

Piles of Things,

Letting go,

Giving it back,

Changing course,

I AM SURE

Renews,

Invigorates,

Opens to the new moment.

How about you?

What do you think about this?

~~~

As a huge Simon and Garfunkel fan (no surprises there), I had a tiny traumatic transition to Paul Simon’s solo work. This song won me over, forever and always. With Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the South African male choral group singing in traditional styles, this song, almost 40 years old now, continues to uplift me.

Here are Paul and Ladysmith Black Mambazo:

 

~~~

Honoring the journey of remembering…..

Acknowledging the inevitability of forgetting.

Celebrating our forays into letting go of internal and external Stuff,

Bowing to the eventuality of holding on.

No bad parts—

All good—

As we

Find our

Way

Home.

May all beings benefit from our time together.

Blessings,

Aruni

It Came to Pass

It Didn’t Come to Stay.

Impermanence.

We know about it.

We understand it.

We logically can grasp that everything is coming to pass,

That all things are in constant flux and transition,

And eventually things cease to exist.

We totally are aware of that.

In our minds.

But when Change happens,

When loss unfolds,

When our hearts are broken,

When our bodies are called into transition,

When life demands of us to feel,

Everything changes.

It gets real.

We are broken open.

We are transformed.

My first and most profound experience with impermanence happened 615 years ago when I was a senior in high school. My beyond-precious Girl Scout Camp, Camp Archbald, played a massive role in my life; I know camp saved my life. I lived for the summers, to go back to those precious trails, that sweet lake, that perfect matriarchy of girls and young women. It was the only place in my young, tender life in which I relaxed, in which I thrived.

The school year for me was colored by my stuttering and my wanting to kiss girls. I knew I needed boy-dates. I couldn’t bear it and I knew that made me vulnerable and suspect. So confusing, so blindingly painful. I didn’t fit in that world. But I had to try. The concept “lesbian” would not be given to me for a few more decades.

But camp! No trying there to fit in; it was effortless for me. Swimming and canoeing! Boating and building campfires, sleeping out. OMG. Just talking about it now, 200 decades later, brings a fluttering to my heart.

The counselor-in-training program was a two-summer program, Junior and Senior C.I.T. I was a bit of star, but still so tender and shy. We had to teach different ages of campers campcraft, singing, boating, etc. We were evaluated. I was beyond-competent. Yet, on the final day of C.I.T. training, when we one-on-one got our results and then graduated together, something odd was in the air. Our counselors, Dimmy and Uns, were acting strangely.

The unthinkable happened—I didn’t pass.

Everybody always passed C.I.T. I didn’t. It was terrifying. Heartbreaking. Devastating. That which I knew would never end was over. Just like that. Its abrupt ending shattered my heart.

Eventually, we figured out, my monogamous friend Gladys/camp name, Cauliflower—Cauli for short—once we outlived it for a few years; it was a political thing.

I think I was too-too much of a little lesbian for the camp administrators. Miss Anna, our short yet stout mega-figure-of-a-camp director, lived in the Lodge with Miss Joanne. In later years, it became perfectly clear, they were attached, in the biblical sense. Somehow, by just being me, I rocked the boat oh, too-too much.

Knowing that came later. Camp, the foundation of my world, was gone, right when I needed it the most, as I was preparing to go away to college. I was truly traumatized. This happened, and my life changed.

Of course, I outlived the trauma, and the story has a happy ending. I did what was requested of me—can’t even remember their demands—perhaps some volunteer scout work during the school year. I eventually did become an Archbald camp counselor and had several summers of wonderfulness, claiming my place, offering my contribution. Being on that side of the camping experience was part of my growing into young adulthood, part of my natural bend toward teaching. During my early time in the Kripalu ashram, I took a week off and went to volunteer at Camp. I remember that as being a profoundly special week.

Being asked to let go of something so precious, so fundamental to my being, was shattering.

Yet I found my way through it.

We find our way through it.

Don’t we?

~~~

When and how have you experienced impermanence?

What has it taught you?

How did you find your way through to the other side?

~~~

This video!

I’m taking a program this month called Reclaiming Peace, led by a team of two peace workers, one Palestinian and one Israeli. Emma and Dina are skillful facilitators who base their work on the writings of Etty Hillesum, a remarkable young Dutch Jewish woman who was killed in the Holocaust. This video they shared is of two women musicians, a musical team called Hamraaz. The string player is from Iran, the woodwind player, from France. The video is filmed in Bulgaria. I find the music haunting and timely. From my heart to yours:

 

Information about Emma and Dina 

 

~~~

Friends,

 

Water to ice,

Ice to water.

And so it goes.

Changing,

Returning,

Changing again.

May we be present.

May we be whole.

May we ride the waves of our lives.

May we live in peace,

No matter what we’re given.

May all beings benefit from our shared words.

Stay blessed,

Aruni