Month: April 2017
Well, one thing is for certain – this is a fantastic planet. It’s Saturday and I had even more time for self-care. Self-care means nature. I packed my “nature” bag and off I went. The weather was too marvelous to miss : I was melting like butter under the Sun. I enjoy this heat. I was thinking heat felt natural to me similar to how natural felt the positive emotional heat. And by the way, things are getting more beautiful here. I love natural beauty, simplicity. I ventured outside the town again and found the perfect place. First, I sat there listening. I listened and felt my senses heighten. My initial idea was to connect to emotion. Today I wanted to connect to openness and the essence of openness. It was challenging to stay on track because there were so many mental directions available to follow. I wanted to feel the emotion and what was behind emotion and what was behind that. I wanted to go to the all possible depth and touch the truth. I wanted to know the truth about emotion. What is the purpose of the whole thing, and what is the purpose of me here? I started to feel my body. Feeling that my physical health was the same as my emotional health. Feeling the intricate connection of everything inside and outside me. I also felt shakiness. It was fear – that’s how it was manifesting itself, speaking through shakiness. It was the physical, most obvious layer of fear. It was easier to pay attention to it this way. I was thinking, feeling, what was beneath it? Why was this shakiness there? Most likely trained into me. I was trying to feel if the shakiness was truth. If I should indeed be fearful of life. I was becoming more shaky, and there was something unpleasant stirring inside me- some kind of emotion which I, of course, could not name. I wasn’t taught the names for these things neither had I taken the time for research. And now, even though I read through the list of possible emotions, I can still hardly identify things that I feel – they are blends and cocktails, they, if they are felt, are already intense enough that all my energy goes into holding them, catching them and letting them be felt instead of sneakily and stealthily making their way through me at random moments. I can feel them – I can give those emotions home in a way, and in this way, I will have taken care of them.
I feel that currently I am doing emotional fishing. It’s an interesting although painful procedure. You never know what kind of fish you are going to catch and in what way it is going to be felt. So, you just have to prepare yourself, and the process is intense. It takes place every day and I cannot deny it. Neither do I want to deny it because I feel that by not denying it, I am learning faster from it, and so I will be able to assist others with what I have learnt which is exciting. Doing any type of healing work is exciting for me. Healing work on others is no different than healing work on myself. So I am working. Looking at my own emotions and wanting to understand them as well as I can. I want to love this whole thing. The whole thing I am talking about is the insight I’ve had during meditation (when the most interesting things happen). The insight was that all emotions are indeed one emotion and the purpose of it is experience, and the purpose of that, is knowing yourself. We are talking about self-discovery. It’s not only the light but the shadows as well, and have you ever seen beauty in the shadows? I have. After my meditation, I opened my eyes and saw everything differently. I saw everything moving and breathing and alive. And all I could feel and say was fantastic.
Emotional fishing is based on your feeling whatever there is to feel. Feeling it in a concentrated way. The way I like to do it is by blindfolding myself. I blindfold myself, and my senses automatically heighten which allows me to focus more on what is going on. I start feeling. I sit there feeling. I feel and feel. I continue.
Last month was a bastard. That’s the truth, it wasn’t very pleasant. It was a good one and of course, I enjoyed it, but there was trouble. I felt deprived. This emotion of deprivation is a dog chasing me, painting me into corners. I was angry on top of deprived, crowned with annoyed. My financial situation reflected the emotional deprivation I was feeling. I felt unworthy and taken advantage of and borderline helpless. I felt so many of those things that I honestly thought I was in a cul-de-sac. But then, I had a different emotional experience which came from one of my social interactions. I was talking to a friend and I said something and he said
And I felt understood. It was a firm feeling sinking in – I was understood. I suddenly felt the urge to celebrate the event with dinner and music after which I danced after which I experienced a new emotion. It was something I haven’t felt for a while – this absolute confidence in being myself … this gentle knowing. It was obvious and ephemeral. But now I know all because I felt it. I felt it with everything I’ve got.
When people ask me where I live now, I am not sure how to best answer that. I live in a different context, not only in terms of physicality but also mentally – I am in a different place. So much is happening. I am amazed at how fragile memories are. They go away. It feels that they stop being something worth holding onto – and so they go away. It doesn’t mean I am losing appreciation for my experiences, if anything, I am growing it. What I mean by that, is that emotions are changing, and I never suspected I would go through this kind of transformation here. What I expected here is to work but also peace. Peace has always been the carrot for me. If someone would say peace, that voice would be my instant friend. I couldn’t feel through the masks some voices were wearing. They say things out of intention for love, but love is the mask for them. Love is the bait for them. Love is the means for them. A most cruel emotional intersection is that of love and joke. Where someone you love participates in the subtle art of making fun of you. Such moments are extremely eye-opening because of the empathy lesson inherent in them.
What if I were in your shoes and you in mine?
I feel that empathy is natural. The inability to feel it is trained, and leads to suffering and all kinds of masks on earth.
And some voices are sweet. They will envelop you in their gentleness.
Those voices are full of promise and future.
They are open voices, they will often offer their goodwill.
They are tasty voices, you can taste them on your skin, in your pores, on your tongue. They are flowing in and through you, they are truly touching – in every sense of the word.
This is the kind of voice I would like to have, the kind of world I would like to live in.
What is your voice?
I went to the edge of the town, the end of it, where there is another world. I used to live there in a three storey house with a blue roof. The house is on top of a hill at the edge of a forest. I decided to go there today because it’s a very peaceful place for me. I wanted to be among trees, and be in silence, that steady silence which the birds twist into a masterpiece.
I was wondering what was my masterpiece. How could I create one? Where could I find the right conditions, circumstances, people? Was I even in the right place? I have loved Crimea all the time I’ve been here. I was sitting on the earth, I lay down on the earth and felt the earth and felt natural. It’s natural being in the environment which is unconditional and warm.
I started my meditation and had insights. The insights were to become a singer, to play the piano – to develop that earliest inclination, to reclaim myself, in a way. It was early childhood when I wanted to be a singer, and only some of the emotion of it I can still feel, but mostly, the burning need to do it has gone, it was dulled by years of confusion and being lost.
I wish I could feel a little bit more passionate about singing, but the time is needed, I think. The discipline is needed. In childhood, it was easier to feel. Now I am skillful at hiding my feelings even from myself. The corners of me, the nooks of me, the crannies of my mind. My mind, the lightness of me, the heaviness – all of that are a cocktail that I have to drink and not be intoxicated by, I have to remain emotionally sober, and remember what matters. It’s an easy choice to accept the things that happened to me, and let them dictate what I am now. But really, those things that happened, which are my past, they no longer feel real. Yes, they might have had an impact, they might have impressed themselves somewhere on my nervous system, they might have even torn it. But they are just smoke now.
I feel hope. I feel it in my cells. I will not just be here, permanently a shadow of what I could be. I am choosing to be the real being that I feel is still alive, and is retrieved from the world. I try to forgive myself for not being the full me. For all the hiding I have done. I try to believe in that I will find the right environment. That I will create the right environment inside myself. That I will learn to listen to myself. That I will come into the state of pure health. I believe I can find that health – it’s in me, I feel the light of it. Physical, emotional health. I can see myself absolutely healthy, absolutely having gone all the way up and down, and having finally come at the point of love. Having finally come at the point of such openness in which love is not a threatening force. My dilemma is that I love love, at the same time, I am afraid of it. I am afraid of how unknown it is. I am aware of the fragility of the physical world. I want steady love. It’s not even that I want it, I feel natural in it. And feeling natural is home.
Every time I sit down at the piano, I know I am about to feel. I am about to feel. Holly cow.
As I am sitting down, I am learning to feel my intuition. The process feels like drawing myself out of darkness. Coaxing myself out of hiding. Sweetening myself out of bitterness. Making myself smile in the lake of sadness where I chose to drown up until now. Now I can see other things, other things I can reach. Other realities I can be. And as I am taking this step of feeling, and of experiencing music and my own participation in it, and my opening to the learning process that I feel is unfolding for me, I choose to feel…I actively choose to…I actively choose and choose and choose not to stay in my corner anymore. I want to stretch my back and lift my head and feel. I want to feel the breaking process that is taking place inside me. The “I can’ts” crashing down.
And nothing matters anymore. If I make a fool out of myself, okay. If I do something beautiful, okay. I am choosing to feel, and touch, and learn, and see, and sing with everything I’ve got.
It’s fun and sweet and a little bit annoying to be with the piano. The technical skills don’t come right away but I know I can do it, it’s a matter of dedication. The body goes where the mind is. The mental kung fu. The self-mastery. I was experimenting with my focus. Any time any kind of thought would hold my attention, my fingering would get unstuck. When I was focused only on my play, I would do fine. Sometimes, I would play in a completely relaxed state, the one I would say of complete non-thinking, even non-existence, that’s when I would also do fine. That is something I don’t understand. It’s as if my fingers knew what to do. It’s completely fascinating. I would watch them do their thing and my mind would be absolutely out of it. I wonder if I should think or let go of thinking completely. Maybe the beauty is in the balance. The whole thing is in the balance – first you think, or maybe you don’t think. Then more and more, you don’t think. Somewhere in all these mental, emotional territories, I get found and lost all the time.
Sometimes I close my eyes, or in my dreams, and I hear music. The music which I can only be with for a moment. Then I wake, frustrated and pleased. I cannot write it down but I have had it, for a moment. Beautiful.
In a way, learning the piano is part of my parenting of myself. Since I have had no parents I have to learn the skill on my own which is a heck of a lot to learn. Somehow you are supposed to accept yourself, nourish yourself, develop yourself, talk to yourself, never ignore yourself, do sweet things for yourself, do sweet things for others, love, cook for yourself, brew tea, educate yourself, pay attention to yourself, check on yourself, entertain yourself, listen to yourself, and provide whatever is needed for your creative growth. One heck of a job, if you ask me. In other words, you better have a good relationship with yourself or life is going to become what you don’t want it to become.
With parenting, I have had no models. Excusez–moi, if I make mistakes. The models I have had were no models. They were the models of how not to do things. I wonder why nobody has yet created “wiki how not” dot com.
Anyway, the point is that, there is this dimension of me – quite musical me – that wants to be experienced. She wants to overwhelm me. And you know what, I am letting her. If piano, and my interaction with it, makes me profoundly emotional, I will accept that. Besides, I don’t have a choice in this situation. This situation is such that I cannot run from which is a curious thing. I have run my whole life, I have this skill down to a fine art.
But the piano is my coach. I don’t understand this instrument technically. But there is love. Its emotion is my emotion – that is a given. Whenever I hear the piano, or see it standing coyly in a corner of someone’s house, I feel pleased. I suddenly feel a voice stirring in me but which does not know how to speak. And I want to teach that voice to speak. With the generosity of a parent – I want to teach that voice. It wants a musical language, it wants this particular instrument, I will give it to it. Yes, it’s like buying a pet, how am I going to travel with it? It’s a serious emotional commitment. Am I even serious? Aren’t there other things I should consider doing? Like pulling myself out of a load of bull? No, the musician in me is having none of that. We will have the piano. We will say whatever is needed to be said.
There are lessons to learn. I don’t only mean technical piano lessons, what I also mean are deep lessons of love, maybe some wisdom on top, maybe some intuition for sprinkling. I can feel the lesson to desert my hiding place. I can feel the rightness of living openly.
Then, there is the phobia of mistakes. That one is taken from school, I am sure. Maybe that’s what my math dreams are all about. That the string of painful events in math class trained this fear which is still a guest in my life. I don’t need it. I thank it for the protection it must have given me back then, but now I release it. Now I am my own person entitled to binge on mistakes. And, as my friend said:
The most beautiful inventions were someone’s mistakes.
You are something I’ve lost
I feel that.
Every time I touch you
My pain is that
In search of understanding of you
And have to begin you fresh.
And they tell me
To start finding rain in beauty
Something is always in something else
In or on, or around
Unable or able, ridiculous or delicious
In your eye, you make everything an apple.
Yesterday you said,
In silence well done with your flavor,
You said listening.
And felt the speak.
As we were getting drunk
With grammar under our chair
One chair to share,
A dirty shoe to pay with
For our stay
Your voice was the rain with hands
I have thrown myself out the window of lucidity
And was there with no time on my chest
And was there screaming to you
To stop swirling the word “immense” on your tongue
I wanted to tell you
That immense was the measure
I am driven in love
But the rain came
And washed my hair.
Somewhere in the pure beginning, I wanted to play the piano.
I loved the emotion it would start in me, whatever shred of emotion, I mean.
I was very young when I got numbed out of emotions. It made me not care too much about the piano/ creativity / higher things and anything else, really.
The piano required communication, learning, feeling.
Due to my emotional state though, I was pulled deep inside myself where I had my private thoughts, emotions, fantasies, all kinds of worlds. They kept me away from hell.
So, I ignored the excited voice inside me urging towards the instrument.
Twenty years later, the desire to play is back. It returned beautifully. So naturally – the more I work on myself, with myself, as a friend, as a lover to myself – the purer I feel, and in this pure space, the piano still lives. The desire is still there. I have done some practice now.
The practice turned out to be a rough awkward process and a meditation.
Hard to synchronise the fingers, to interact with the piano. To take yourself and what you have to say, and make it music, and then you and your piano dare to share your creation with others .
During my practice I had a moment where I felt “it”. I closed my eyes, I found what went well together. I found an emotion that could be communicated through my hands into the piano, and the piano communicated it back to me. My fingers felt smooth and in the right place. I was there, and away.
The moment was gone of course, but the flavor of it was etched into my mind, and deeper. And deeper. And so, what choice do I have but continue with that?
I am thinking, what if we had understood each other? Would we still have our moment, us?
What does it mean to love? Is it to understand another? Is it to truly understand their trail of tears and their past. Is it to understand what makes them shine.
Certain people are the hardest to let go of. You never really know another person’s reality, they may change their mind what the relationship means to them. Or you may change your mind. Or you have never looked at it the same anyway. In other words, you didn’t try to understand each other. That’s the crux. People who are not understood, people who are not felt, don’t even know if they are really compatible. You can feel nice around each other, and this feeling becomes the gravity center of the relationship. You try to get more of it, more and more. The relationship starts revolving around your need for feeling that thing. If that feeling is not buttressed by the understanding between the two, then what are the chances it will last? And personally, I so want it to last. I have no desire for comings and goings. I could certainly do with no more wounds of this kind. The sensitive emotional tissue takes years to heal, and even then you never know when you are going to wake in tears, heart resounding with thunderbolts of pain.
The more I think about it, the more I see it though: living with someone would be a challenge. Not so much as physical, but emotional. Emotional living together takes resources which I feel I haven’t developed to the proper degree yet. In a way, I am a being with a broken wing and a torn chest. I am lying here licking my wounds. That’s where my energy is. Gradually, I will learn. I will probably explore what I have always wanted to explore. Just do my enthusiasm. And I will, I will, I will hold the idea of understanding and practice it. Because the price of not doing so, is too high.