Author: Jean

Go out to the waters edge
ready your net
close your eyes
open inner vision
draw in ocean air
waves rise and fall
world at your feet
flow of creation
all around you
within you
cast your net fearlessly
free yourself at last

 

Just to clarify, the pictures I post may be from today or from the many hundreds of photos I have taken and have not shared, this one was taken a year ago in Phuket, Thailand. The poems will be written in the moment and my intention is to leave them raw and unpolished. I want to honor whatever words come to me in the moment, organically, spontaneously. My objective is not perfection or reaching a standard, it is merely to create.

  My family and I recently had a vacation in Japan. We all had a wonderful time and it was another visually stunning journey. I took hundreds of photos. In my adult life I have been a bit of a dabbler, and I took several courses in photography in my late twenties and early thirties, and although I never completed those studies, I still love photography as a creative outlet. I find when I get behind my camera I really open my eyes, I see things more deeply, I notice subtleties and delicate nuances, the light and dark of things, the beauty of the large and the minute. I attune to symmetry, color, pattern, as well as the feeling, the emotion of things and people. I think I start seeing from a soul level when I use my lens. I am not a highly gifted or well trained photographic artist, but I delight in what I capture and value what I create. I have been pondering how to further use my photography in some way in my creative life.

On the plane returning to China I watched a movie called “Words and Pictures”. It was not the best movie I have ever seen, but I did thoroughly enjoy it. The movie’s central plot is built around two characters, one of them a male high school English teacher, the other a female Art teacher. Each is convinced that their chosen form of creative expression is superior to the other and so they begin a war between their classes, a battle between words and pictures. In the end it becomes clear that both words and pictures are evocative, powerful, beautiful, heartbreaking, joy inducing and ultimately so essentially human that we need them both. There is also a particular scene in the movie that points out the way music can touch into deep feelings and emotions in a way that other means can not, and I personally feel that dance does this as well. All of these forms we call the arts are really the soul expression of humanity, we would be lost without them.

When I got home I was reflecting on this and my desire to be even more creative, to create without so much considering and over thinking. I want to find avenues for daily expression without worrying about what other people will think of it or if they will value it. I am feeling like if I open the doors to a more varied and less cautious relationship with what I am putting out, the more my energy will become free flowing, and the more access I will have to my creative source, to my spiritual self. Kurt Vonnegut said, “Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”

Besides photography, a form I used to invest enormous energy in, is poetry. In fact poetry is one of the first things I was recognized for at school. I remember in second grade, as part of a study unit on Japan (my, how things come full circle), being assigned the task of writing a haiku. When the teacher came to my desk and handed it back to me I saw it was marked ++, the best you could get, and a gold star sticker bonus. I remember her smiling at me and telling me what a good job I had done. This moment figures so crucial to me that, although I don’t remember the teacher’s name, I still remember my haiku.

                                            The Moth
  
                                      the moth in the dark
                                   flutters like the lost dew drops
                                      and then goes away

So it occurs to me that it would be interesting to take this idea of words and pictures and start my own personal creative inquiry around my use of both these forms. I will begin trying to post a picture and corresponding poem to this blog each day. I don’t want to get too strict or rigid with myself though either, so that it is an intention with lots of breathing room and wiggle space. I will use this as an additional component to the work I am doing around self empowerment and letting go of the need for external validation or specific outcomes in my work.

This concept of doing actions without attachment to outcome is at the heart of true yoga practice, which is the central pillar of my life. In The Bhagavad Gita,  Krisha says to Arjuna, ” You have a right to your actions, but never to your actions’ fruits. Act for the actions sake. And do not be attached to inaction. Self possessed, resolute, act without any thought of results, open to success or failure. This equanimity is yoga.”

Indeed, to simply open to the creative intelligence that lives in each of us is an astounding proposition, and if each of us started a curious and playful endeavor into our particular creative pathways, whatever they may be, without the dependence on external validation, it would be nothing less than revolutionary, evolutionary!

Do something that feels like art to you, that thing that makes you feel whole, engaged, alive, and do it. “Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”  I would love to hear about your creative experiments as well!!

             

Let the beauty of what you love be what you do.  ~ Rumi

 I love to dance. I love it from a soul place. It is my canvass, I paint with rhythm and movement. Dance lifts me up, connects me to my joy, it is my magic and my passion. When I am dancing I find myself. Everything else disappears, there is just me, pure and whole. I love other things too, but nothing goes right to the heart of me like dancing does. It sets me free.

When I am anywhere, and I mean anywhere, where there is music that moves me, and even a tiny space to to accommodate that movement, I find the magnetic lure, the call to the dance, irresistible.My inner impulse to dance overrides any shyness, any sense of propriety, any fear of embarrassment. POOF! My brain empties out and my body and soul are in command.

I recently put head phones on in an Apple Store here in Shanghai and the music got its hooks in me. I found myself dancing with abandon through the store. These were wireless headphones, I might add, so I could roam freely. Even more interesting than me, was the fact that all the locals in the store just ignored me, the crazy dancing foreign lady. Weird and awesomely liberating!

When I go to a club, which is once in a blue moon, I don’t care if no one else is on the dance floor, I will get my groove on solo, I don’t mind, more dance floor for me! Sure people might think I am audacious, or an attention seeker, I do admittedly have a strong performer archetype, people might judge me, but my love of dance is stronger than fear. What deep medicine it is!

Just this past weekend I went to an Oktoberfest celebration with my husband Stephen, and another couple. We donned our traditional German threads and proceeded to the festivities with gusto. We ate, drank the customary brew, and the band began to play. My friend and I made our way to the dance floor, the energy of the crowd and the music was big and boisterous, we entered the funky flow. We danced, and laughed, and danced some more.

As the evening was wrapping up I was high on the vibe, I felt like I could dance through the night. The band started to play 99 Red Balloons (or 99 Luftballoons), and that song hits a sentimental chord from my youth. I was swept up in it immediately. A woman near me suggested I should get up on stage. I immediately thought, “Wow! Yeah, what a great idea! I would love to be up there!” I got the attention of a band member in front of me and gestured to ask permission to come up, he shook his head no, so I was ready to let go of the idea, but a few moments later he was signalling to me to go ahead and come up.  A few helping hands boosted me up, and there I was dancing on stage! This felt amazing, so I took it upon myself to encourage other ladies, including my beautiful friend who I came with, to come up and join me. I am not sure if the band loved that part, but anyway, it all ended with me and my friend plus a number of other women up on stage having a ball! We finally made our way to exit stage left and allow the band to take back the entertainment.

Once we were back down there, one woman approached me and said, “Thank you so much, that was so fun and when I saw you get up there I thought, “I want to be like her.”, and then I did it, I got up on stage! I would never have done that if you didn’t go up there first.” We hugged and parted ways. I probably will never see that woman again, but I will never forget her. Some friendships are momentary, but transformational.

The big deal of life is to know what we love and do it boldly. It is good to step out of our comfort zones and be a little wild, a little crazy. This is about being fully expressed as human beings, and not dulling down what lights us up, or makes us shine, for fear of what people will think. When one of us takes the stage, it gives others the permission and courage to go there too.

What stage is calling for you to come on up? In the moment, do you listen to your inner voice that is telling you to go for it, whatever your “it” is? We all must risk stepping out of the shadows and into the light in order to truly grow.  This is it, your life, dance on!!

This summer I was fortunate to be able to get back home to The United States and attend a retreat with my yoga sangha or family. We really are a family, we know the ins and outs of each other, we hold loving space for the light and dark sides of our beings, we have shared our skeletons as well as our sparkle and shine. We love each other no matter what. More than amazing, and yet so simply human.

Our humanness that holds our infinite soul nature. We explore that together.

One of the experiences we shared during that retreat was a powerful look into the concept of identity. At the core of yoga is the question “Who am I?”. Even if you don’t do, or care to ever do yoga, this is the ultimate question of a lifetime, for all of us. Isn’t it? What more could we be here to do than to experience this amazing life, and day by day, come to know ourselves. To know and express oneself fully is ultimate realization.

Who do you think you are?

No, actually beyond thought. Who are you? Who are you, really?

In the experience we spent a length of time looking into the eyes of partners, who would change at intervals,  and asked each other to “tell me who you are”. We each had time to speak and we each had a turn to listen. We did this for three hours.

I found this exercise compelling, difficult, illuminating, frustrating, transformational, cathartic, joyful, above all mind blowing. As I spoke in a stream of consciousness manner I found so many pieces of my identity bubbling up to the surface, all these parts of my persona wanting validation, air time, so to speak. I heard myself talking about being a mother, wife, teacher, thinker, feeler, experiencer of so much. I gave voice to my inner little girl and paid visitation to my joys and my sorrows, my love and my anger, desire and grief. How fascinating, all the things that came through my field of awareness as expressions of my identity. I was quite shocked at moments at the very words spilling out of me, words freeing pieces of me I had disconnected from or denied my attention.

When I listened to my partners I felt such deep compassion and connection. Each person in front of me, so vulnerable, raw, honest and perfectly beautiful. I saw that person, their eyes, their deep soul nature and I saw myself reflected back. In speaking and listening, witnessing the energy moving through each moment of response, it was like watching the slow unfolding of a beautiful lotus flower. Every tender moment of offering, each emotion or sudden recognition like petals peeling back to unveil the core, the very heart of it, the deep unwavering center point. There in that point of origin resides the true self. Infinite, eternal and whole, love without limit, freedom.

Our true nature is love, we must endeavor to go inward and discover it. We must be willing to brave the stormy waters of our deeply wounded parts and fully appreciate and own our phenomenally joyful, intelligent, divine aspects as well. We are called to shine the bright light of compassionate consciousness into every corner and hidden alleyway of ourselves, leaving no part left in exile. Yoga, Kripalu Yoga in particular, gives us a path to directly experience our true nature. It takes dedication, it takes practice. It is the journey of a lifetime and beyond.

I carry this question with me now. The question “Who am I?” is becoming my constant companion. Sometimes it is in my back pocket and sometimes I bring it right back to that close contact eye gaze, deeply looking, intentionally seeking. I hear it whispering to me when I get off balance or wander into murky territory, moments when fear is getting the best of me.

I am continuing this question as a directed practice. There is a meditation on this very same question that anyone can do. Here is some simple instruction.

Arrange your body in a comfortable position, perhaps sitting on a chair or on a cushion with an upright spine. Feel your body and notice your breath. After a few moments of settling in, begin to drop the question “Who am I?” into your field of awareness. Drop it in without any expectation of receiving an answer. The idea is to use the mind to pause the mind, to begin to pierce through the thought identity, in order to connect with the deeper self that is beyond thought and definition.

Many ideas and images might come up, acknowledge them and let them go. Return to the breath, and again drop the question in, “Who am I?” Practicing this self inquiry meditation can take you to the essence of what is here beyond thinking, like that lotus flower opening slowly to reveal the beautiful essence of the self.

This journey takes time and practice as I have said. I am at the point where I still get lost in my thoughts and ideas, but every once in awhile I arrive into moments of clarity and deep peace. Those moments inspire me to want to continue. I want to continue to expand my light and step by step make the pilgrimage home to my true self, to the love that is at the center, the deep well of my own heart and soul.

 Since moving to China my sense of, and connection to the word and concept of home has shifted. It is a bit blurry, its boundaries and borders are less clear. In June I packed up and headed off solo, back to our home in Connecticut. The kids were not finished with school, but I needed to get back for a retreat with my yoga family. On the plane, I was more than happy for some time to myself, no one to look after but me, myself and I, a glass of champagne, my own personal screen for movie viewing, kind of blissful. When my journey ended I arrived at the midnight hour, finally, at my own long lost doorstep, ready for the comfort of my homecoming.

I fumbled around in my fatigue with the numbers on the lock box that were the final obstacle to crossing that sacred threshold. One last click and I was in! Despite having had a friend come by to turn on lights and open windows, when I walked in the air was heavy and stale, the space quiet and hollow, vacuous, dead. No life in it, but now I was here. I was home, or was I?  I decided this was just the jet lag, this let down, this dullness. I was thankful for the company of a beer left for me and  an episode of “Friends” on Nick at Night. These friends were as good as it was going to get at the moment, so I leaned back into the couch, right where I always sit, and allowed myself to become heavy, sink down.  I went to bed with my loneliness. My husband and kids were a world away, me in bed alone, and them at work and school. I slept an unsettled sleep, feeling simultaneously at home and away.

The next morning I shook off my dust and opened the blinds and drapes, windows and doors to the day. Two of my best girlfriends finally made their way over and a heart beat returned to that place. My breath returned to me. The world of home started to get back its color and flavor. Home can be a town, in a certain country, on a certain road, at a particular house number but it is the life and laughter of the people who gather there, who laugh and cry there, it is the human spark, the fire of family and friends that give it its life breath. I found my liveliness as well, as I reconnected to the outdoor space of our Connecticut home. It sits in a patch of woods with a brook running through it. In the summer it has an orchestra of birds, frogs and bugs singing, a beautiful soundtrack for life.

After a couple days landing there, I was off to visit friends, go on a fabulous yoga retreat and reconnect with my spiritual family and teachers. Amazing. When I made my way back once again to our house in the woods Stephen and the kids were there waiting, and yes, this time, it was home again. A house turned back into a home, full of hustle and bustle, music and cooking, laughter and arguing, all of it. All if it good, rich, and astoundingly beautiful.

The summer unfolded before us as we pursued a jam packed itinerary of going to different places to see family and friends, ultimately making a circle encompassing almost half of the continental United States. Each place we visited was like another homecoming because of all the beloved faces we beheld, precious time shared, catching up with all that had transpired in the last year, marveling at how kids had grown, hugs and kisses. In the end though it always ended in the same bittersweet way, every single time, more hugs and kisses and “I love you. See you soon.”, every time a goodbye. Parting truly is such sweet sorrow.

In the blink of the proverbial eye the time had escaped me and I was busy packing suitcases once again to go home. Funny, when I came to Connecticut I was coming home, and now, preparing for the return to China, going home. This expat experience has the unique quality of always being home and always being away, from one or the other. It is like straddling the globe, living in two worlds at once. Amazing and challenging, always a subtle feeling of displacement flavoring the big adventure.

We returned to Shanghai just over a week ago,and again I find I am stumbling around, I can’t quite get the land underneath my feet. I feel a bit turned upside down and hollowed out. This too shall pass. I am beginning to reconnect with friends and getting my ducks in a row. My kids are back to school, activities are starting soon, my teaching will get organized, I will hit my stride. Right now there is a lingering longing for the other home. It will take a bit of time to resettle here. Another year of travel, learning and growing lies ahead, and my most important people are right here with me.

So what is home? Where is home? There is a reason why clichés get to be clichés and “home is where the heart is” holds so much truth. In a world where sometimes it seems home is all about square footage, zip codes, bells and whistles and keeping up with the Joneses, I have discovered that home, true home, lives in a different type of geography. Home is the landscape of love and devotion, the tender spaces that make life worth living, the world of relating and being, the infinite container that can hold all my best, my worst and every shade in between. Home is bird songs and lullabies, sleeping in and sleepless nights. Home is those you are with and those who you miss. Most of all home is the heart, my heart, connected to all the hearts that I carry with me every moment of every day whether that  particular moment feels like home or away.

No situation is ever hopeless. No matter how desperate or impossible life circumstances may become, the truth is that as long as you are breathing, anything can happen.  Personally I don’t believe in predestination or a fate that is unavoidable. I do believe that we are put here with certain lessons to learn and our teachers come to us in many forms; people, events, challenges, victories, disasters and miracles. Everything that arrives is a teacher. We have the power to receive the experiences life offers to us, and then we choose how to grow, how to respond, or even how to stay stuck, how to stay trapped. Sometimes things can get so bad we might feel blinded by the darkness, seemingly lost forever. It might feel like the sun in the sky has been blotted out and all there is to do is suffer to the end.

What do you do if you are down in that hole of relentless despair? Don’t give up, never count yourself out. Keep breathing and reaching out into the darkness, put one foot in front of the other, keep getting up and meeting each day, because miracles do happen and you do not know what amazing new chapter is just the turn of a page away. At any moment someone might throw some hidden door or window wide open and the sun comes blazing in. It can happen, it does. If my dog Dahei could speak she would tell you exactly that. Anything can happen, anything at all.

Dahei is a Chinese Winter Soup Dog, and that just means she is a mutt and a street dog. She is the kind of dog that some Chinese people love to put in some winter soup. I say that with absolutely no judgment by the way. People throughout the world eat different things and though I would not knowingly eat a dog, I do not hold judgment around this cultural difference. Dahei, very well might though.

Dahei was abandoned at a very young age by the boss at a construction site and his wife. Most likely they realized she is not a pure bred dog and so they rejected her. Dahei lived for quite some time alone on the bare cement in the cold of winter. She scavenged for food in the garbage of a nearby apartment complex, and tried to play with other dogs she would meet there, but she was very afraid of people. No wonder really, as some of the workers and guards in the area were trying to catch her to eat her.

One woman noticed her and left food out, and a box for a bit of shelter, but Dahei’s life was harsh and dismal. Then one day, Dahei decided to follow a friendly dog and the woman she was with around on their walk. The dog’s name was Xiaohei and the woman’s name was Laiya.  Dahei really wanted to play with Xiaohei, but couldn’t trust Laiya and so she shied away. Laiya asked around the apartments if Dahei belonged to someone, and the woman who had left the box out told Laiya about Dahei’s horrible living conditions. Laiya determined to rescue Dahei. She managed to wrangle her and get her to the veterinarian where she was looked over and de-fleed and de-wormed.

Laiya brought Dahei home and went through significant turmoil and trouble. Dahei only wanted to hide under the table, she used all her energy to try to break the door to the apartment, and she would chew on things and tear the apartment apart. She refused to walk in or out of the building or on stairs and had to be carried. Laiya tried several names and got no response, until she tried Dahei, which means big black in Mandarin, and she wagged her tail. So Dahei was named.

One day a friend had come to try to help repair some of the damage Dahei had done to Laiya’s apartment and then they took her out with them to pick up some food. Dahei ended up running away and back to the construction site from where she had come. Laiya went there to reclaim her, but now the construction workers insisted that Dahei belonged to them. Laiya, helpless to save Dahei from them, began to walk away, but a female worker quickly brought her to Laiya and said to take her away and give her a good life.

This time Dahei went to the apartment and settled in. Laiya trained Dahei and set out to find someone to adopt her, but only a temporary foster home could be arranged. Laiya was working full time teaching Mandarin and didn’t feel she could keep Dahei herself. That is where my family and I come in.

In my meager and faltering attempts to learn something more than ni hao, “hello”, and ting bu dong, “I don’t understand”, I hired Laiya to tutor me in Mandarin. One evening Harper, my then eight year old daughter, was sitting with us, and somehow the topic of having left our beloved dog, Evan, behind in the States when we moved to China came up. I confessed that we all really missed having a dog. Laiya’s face lit up and she told us with great enthusiasm that she had the perfect dog for our family. I tried my best to show restraint, but I really am a sucker for a dog, and rescuing, well, anything. Laiya emailed me a flyer and some pictures. The flyer listed her breed as Chinese Winter Soup Dog. I asked Laiya what that means and she said, “Well, Dahei is the kind of dog that some people think would go in a winter soup. I was a bit horrified to think of that and her photo was adorable, so we all agreed to meet Dahei.

Dahei came to meet us on a Thursday evening a few months ago, and she has been here with us ever since. She was so quiet and shy at first, but she has warmed up to all of us and she is truly the most remarkable dog. I think she is a kind of yogi dog. She is so calm, gentle and friendly. She sits near me when I meditate or do yoga, and she has a great ease about her. She can also be suddenly leaping and bounding, full of playful energy. She is incredible, such a kind soul given the cruelty and harshness of her early life.

Dahei started out her life living on a concrete slab in the cold of winter in China, where she was seen as nothing more than a reject and maybe a good winter meal. She was abandoned, freezing, starving and afraid. Through several twists of fate, and her will to stay the course, surviving, waiting and then recognizing a kind person, her life has been transformed in an amazing and miraculous way.

She is part of our family now and she brings us all great joy. She came like an angel for me at a time when I was feeling a little lost and lonely myself. She has helped my heart to heal and open from a year that has had some hurdles and hurts. We saved her and she has saved us too.

Dahei’s story is proof that anything can happen. She went from being a cast out, alone, and in the most dire of situations, to living in one of the best, if not the best area in all of Shanghai. She has an adoring family, no more garbage to eat for her, now it is Science Diet and monthly visits to the groomer. She doesn’t sleep on cold concrete, she has a nice cushioned doggy bed, but she has moved herself on up to the couch, or sometimes my meditation cushion. Most importantly, because she didn’t give up, she found her way miraculously to the place in this world where she was needed, in our home and in our hearts.

So if you are feeling like your life is hard and hopeless, if you feel like the darkness has overtaken the light, remember the story of Dahei, and keep traveling, look around, keep on keeping on. You never know when, in the turn of a corner or a chance meeting, your life may be changed forever.