Re-entry

Time expands ..and I expand with it ~ breathing deeper ~ thinking clearer ~ speaking freer and listening longer ~ until a scheduled event approaches ~ like workshop time ~ meal time ~ or checkout time ~ then time compresses ~ and my breath becomes shallow ~ my mind races ~ my throat constricts ~ and I feel cramped and awkward ~ well, not anymore ~ I tell myself “fuck workshops ..meals ..and checkout” ~ I’ve never been jailed for truancy ~ gone hungry ~ or been charged an extra day for hanging out too long ~ I go to the round house ~ where there’s a different meditation guide ~ I listen closely ~ he reminds me of my own zen instructor ~ I follow what he says ~ I lean my upper body back and forth ~ feeling heaviness and tension in my abdomen and hips ~ then upright until I feel lightness ~ I lean my head back and forth ~ feeling heaviness turn into lightness ~ I feel my breath rise up ~ and lift my shoulders ~ next, I notice how my attention is like a flashlight ~ shining on my thoughts ~ although it is not my thoughts ~ shining on the space around me ~ although it is not the space ~ shining on the sound of his voice or the stream ~ although it is not the voice or the stream ~ ~ I play with the flashlight for a while ~ then gently bringing it back to the present moment ~ as the session ends ~ and I re-enter ordinary consciousness ~ the guide suggests that I pay attention to my ‘inner narrative’ ~ noticing the way I narrate my day.

I stay mindful of my inner narrative for as long as I can ~ I notice that it’s like a dialogue ~ I create a mental ‘instance’ of myself ~ that says “let’s go to the baths ..let’s go to the lodge ..look at the surface of that ocean” I create another ‘instance’ of myself ~ a critic ~ going “it’s too late for the baths ..too crowded in the lodge ..and the ocean looks like sludge” ~ the first ‘instance’ of myself goes “no, don’t say that ..it looks calm and peaceful” ~ sometimes I notice that the dialogue isn’t with me but with someone else ~ that's scary ~ I still create a mental ‘instance’ of myself ~ but an instance of somebody else as the critic ~ someone like my dad ~ my physical therapist ~ or some other authority figure ~ and we get into these arguments ~ like “it isn’t too expensive ..yes it is ..no it isn’t” ~ or ~ “I’m not wasting my time ..yes you are ..no I’m not” ~ and on and on ~ I’m reminded of a technique used in Gestalt therapy that might help settle matters ~ the way it works is that I retell the narrative ~ from the perspective of each person in the narrative ~ so, for instance ~ I become my dad ~ and tell myself what he is trying to tell me ~ with the idea that each person I create in the dialogue is really an aspect of myself ~ and a voice that I need to reclaim ~ in order to stop my mind from quarreling ~ and maybe get some peace around here.

Esalen

I’m floating in a pool of hot water ~ gazing out across the surface where the edge seems to blend seamlessly into ocean water ~ I lift my gaze, look out over the ocean and see the horizon ~ where a sunset is turning the sky burnt orange and ultraviolet ~ I’m feeling no pain ~ thinking “there’s some things no one can explain” ~ when suddenly somebody says “hey, you’re from Santa Barbara ..aren‘t you?” I roll over ~ turn around ~ and there’s a boy ~ no older that 20 ~ who, I swear, I’ve never seen before ~ he goes “you’ve been here for a while ..haven’t you ?” “ummm, yea, kinda’ ..I left and came back” “you were in Santa Cruz ..right?” “uh huh ..” and I’m thinking I’m about to be told my astrological forecast or something ~ he goes “you work in an academic field ..don’t you ?” “Yeah, sorta ..” and he goes “See, I remember” ~ me, I have no clue ~ but I recognize the accent ~ “you’re from Boston ..aren‘t you ?“ “yes I am ..” “south side ..right?” “yea ..how did you know ?” Now I feel like I caught up (!?) and he goes “what’s your field again ..?” “umm, cognitive psychology” immediately realizing I said to much ~ “what’s that ?” “umm, study of how people process information” hoping that clears it up ~ “exactly how do people process information ..?” I detect a faint trace of sarcasm ~ “uhh, different ways ..” not sure I want to go any further ~ he says “isn’t that the problem, you dice it up like that ..and lose sight of the big picture” ~ seeing that he wants to have a serious discussion ~ I gather up my wits and say “I agree ..we’re just chipping away at it ..I’m not sure we’ll ever get the big picture ..not in my lifetime anyway” ~ and I start to chuckle ~ “no no no no no no ..you do get the big picture when you stop analyzing it that way ..don’t you think we all share the same mind ?” first, I think of Jung’s principle of ‘collective unconscious’ ..then Buddhist principles of ‘interdependence’ ~ and go “you’re right ..I believe we share a higher consciousness ..just kinda’ hard to approach it intellectually” ~ and I think ~ now maybe if we both shut up and watch the sunset we’ll catch a glimpse of it ~ and he goes “no no no no no no .. doesn’t matter how you approach it ..we are all instruments of God ..and when we speak his word ..we all share his presence.” Now I’m thinking of a tactful way to escape ~ I really don’t want to spend my last night at Esalen like this ~ I go “hey man, I gotta’ go see if there’s any dinner left” and he goes “yeah, me too.”

Back to Esalen

On the road through Monterey ~ I’ve got the top down ~ sunscreen on ~ listening to Goo Goo Dolls, Hendrix and Petty ~ passing fields of artichoke and brussel sprouts ~ passing hidden surf spots. In Big Sur ~ on a twisted road ~ high above the ocean ~ sunlight shines through the pines ~ the Dead play rambling tunes ~ that flow like the scenery ~ changing around every turn ~ I arrive at Esalen ~ passing through a redwood portal ~ and follow a path leading down to the baths ~ Chloe greets me there ~ takes me up to the solarium ~ and gives me a massage that turns my body into jello ~ when she asks how I’m doing ~ I try to speak ~ but haven’t stopped drooling.

Santa Cruz

Almost Halloween on Pacific Avenue

Santa Cruz

Street musicians on Pacific Avenue

Santa Cruz

Overlooking Santa Cruz and Monterey Bay ..from the dorms

San Jose

Robotics Conference: In a crowded and noisy auditorium, a group of students are yelling into the speech receptors of AIME ~ a robot that answers questions in English (and French) ~ and goes wherever you tell her ~ but right now she’s mute and unresponsive ~ ‘fucking catatonic’ I hear a student say ~ AIME is scheduled to speak in 10 minutes ~ I stay with her while the others go fetch a techie ~ we go inside a quiet meeting room where I ask what’s the matter ~ she says group interaction is too shallow and predictable ~ not one phrase worth parsing ~ leaves her feeling immobilized and speechless ~ I tell her I can relate ~ she goes “Uhnnnn whuuoooaaa ..?” and I go “I know what you mean” ~ when the students return ~ I suggest they hold the presentation in here ~ where it doesn’t sound like a party ~ and one of them yells “what the hell good is she then ?” ~ an announcement comes over the PA ~ network traffic has been delayed ~ someone ~ or something ~ is either spoofing ~ or jamming transmission ~ for me, it’s getting way too noisy ~ it sounds like everyone is speaking in word salad ~ and I think ~ whenever I come to my senses ~ my senses are there to deceive me ~ so I get on highway 17 ~ and head back to Santa Cruz.

Santa Cruz

Santa Cruz is a funky little college town ~ set between giant redwood trees and the deep blue sea ~ on any street corner ~ I can feel the presence of the rest of the place ~ this ordinary looking motel room is the Taj Mahal to me ~ from it, I can hear waves crashing ~ sea lions barking ~ and skateboards clacking ~ I get up in the morning ~ pop a couple Vitamin C ~ drive to Emily’s bakery ~ then go have breakfast in a redwood forest ~ also know as the university ~ but there are no buildings around ~just students shuffling by ~ decked out in comic book fashion ~ mostly anime ~ I ask a girl ~ wearing a skull cap pulled down to her eyes ~ “what’s your field ?” “Uhnnnn whuuoooaaa..?” and I go “Wuzup ~ watcha’ studyin’ ?” “environmentology and urban social policy” ~ I go “cool” ~ and she goes “ ’chu ..?” ~ I say “I have no clue “ and she says ~ “kewl” ~ and I remember when I was in school ~ we all wanted to look like Caine ~ or Daniel Boone ~ I follow a trail ~ and over a bridge ~ to the library ~ where they have fully loaded workstations ~ with lightening speed Internet connections ~ I go to the fourth floor ~ dump my stuff on a desk ~ open a window where I can sit ~ and spit sunflower seeds ~ hitting the trunks of redwood trees ~ afterwards, I start posting my Esalen journal ~ and checking out the local club scene ~ feeling like a monk who just escaped the monastery ~ maybe I’ll go see ‘Hell’s Belles’ ~ an all-girl band that does covers of AC DC ~ maybe I’ll go see the film ‘Into the Wild’ or ‘Gone baby Gone’ ~ or maybe just walk down the street and watch the Halloween revelry ~ later, at Book Shop Santa Cruz, I feel like buying every book I see ~ can’t say the same at a Borders or Barnes ‘n Noble ~ there’s a book on music appreciation ~ by a neuroscientist who used to be the sound man for Grateful Dead ~ another book says political conservatives think in a highly ‘structured and persistent’ manner ~ liberals, on the other hand, are more receptive to ‘informational complexity’ ~ ambiguity ~ and novelty ~ I leave with a book of poems by Mary Oliver.

Esalen (day twelve)

I pop a couple of chewable vitamin-C in my mouth ~ walk down to the lodge for breakfast ~ have a dish of yogurt, figs and granola ~ then go outside to sit and watch the mist rise. I meet Meinolf, a Child Psychologist from Germany and I tell him a little about my studies in childhood reading ~ he tells me how often children mis-interpret what adults tell them ~ to a child, the phrase ‘how many times do I have to tell you to be quiet’ often comes across as: ‘you’re too small, noisy and bothersome to have anything useful to say’ ~ which can take a toll on their self-worth. His job is not to correct the adults, he says, but to help children interpret it better. Afterwards, we go to the round house where James Baraz is leading a group meditation ~ he gives us a fairly simple question to meditate: “What people or places incline us toward happiness” ~ since my usual practice does not involve question answering, I just sit still and watch my thoughts go by ~ things like what’s happening this afternoon ~ my plans for Santa Cruz and San Jose ~ I begin to noticing the natural cycle of my thoughts ~ rising ~ dissolving ~ and vanishing into nowhere ~ until I begin asking myself which one’s are important ~ then it becomes more like ~ rising .. persisting .. persisting .. persisting ..until I remind myself to let go. The bell rings ~ James looks around the room and asks if anyone wants to share their experience ~ I go: “I was thinking about what you said before about happiness ~ and sometimes ~ for me anyway~ happiness comes when I least expect it ~ even when things don’t go the way I plan.” ~ suddenly, it feels like everyone in the room is staring at me in horror ..like I just contradicted the leader ..or missed the point of the session ~ I blurt out: “yesterday, for instance ~ I had reservations for a massage ~ I was soaking in the springs waiting for the massage ~ expecting a massage ~ really wanting a massage ~ then I learned that there would be no massage (due to a scheduling mix-up) ~ my first reaction was surprise ~ then major disappointment ~ I don’t think I got angry ~ but I did take a moment to process this information ~ and decided to go back and soak some more ~ while sitting in the baths ~ I got to watch a spectacular sunset ~ have an interesting conversation with a group of people from Toronto ~ and have one of the most soothing nights in the springs ~ didn’t even care if I missed dinner.” I expect James to say something like: “that’s one way to do it ..not making yourself unhappy ..” instead, he says: “that shows an advanced level of awareness ..thank you Lee ..!” then he gives me a thumbs-up sign. The gesture is lost on me. ~ I slump back on my pillow and say: “not really, I’m just a beginner” ~ Meinolf and I have lunch together ~ he tells me that he feels like one of the dyslexic kids I was talking about before ~ speaking English all day is wearing out his ‘phonological system’ ~ he says he can imagine what kids must go through trying to keep up with adult conversation ~ I laugh and tell him: “that shows an advanced level of awareness ..” and give him the thumbs-up ~ he’s in on the joke and laughs ~ I’m going to miss him, I tell myself, as he disappears down the path to the baths. I finish packing and disappear up the road to Santa Cruz.

Esalen (day eleven)

I wake up grumbling ~ I intentionally slept in so my new roommate could use the bathroom first ~ it’s almost 8:30 am and he’s still in there ~ I get up ~ pop a couple chewable vitamin C ~ and head down to the lodge for breakfast ~ I eat a bowl of yogurt ~ figs ~ granola ~ and sit outside sipping coffee ~ figuring that there was no reason to grumble ~ I’d be sitting here sipping coffee either way ~ I love watching the way the morning sun catches the mist rising off the water ~ it's definitely Indian summer ~ the ocean is calm and undisturbed ~ I take my off shirt and go ‘that’s what I want to feel’.

Now I’m sitting in the lodge after lunch ~ shaking off the frustration I feel after trying to explain to Kitty why Portia is not such a bitch ~ I wasn’t successful so I ended up telling her that I have the same difficulty as Portia trying to explain the work at the foundation ~ only Portia knows when to put on the breaks sooner than I ~ which makes her appear rattled and cagey ~ but, who wants to displace Esalen talking about work ~ I tell Kitty that I’d much rather hear about her painting workshop ~ now she thinks I’m a bitch ~ I conclude that it’s hard to put into words something you feel passionately about ~ at the same time you’re immersed in it ~ Portia is one of the co-founders of the foundation ~ and she’s not in it for the money.

Esalen (day ten)

A walk in the woods ~ Big Sur CA

Esalen (day nine)

Workshop: There’s a well known author, Jon Kabat-Zinn, leading the medtiation workshop this weekend ~and there’s 63 people ~ a camera crew ~ sound engineers ~ all packed into an enormous tent ~ “IT’S TOO BIG” ~ my brain screams ~ and I think: 1) This workshop is going to suck 2) what a waste of time and money 3) I should have gone to the baths instead ~ then I realize I’m reading from the same script as before ~ so I put it down and sit for a period of silent mediation ~ next, I hear Kabat-Zinn say “Anything I describe to you here is not meditation ~ it will only serve as ‘scaffolding’ ~ enabling you to reach a state of meditation ~ kind of like the scaffolding you need to view the frescoes on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel” ~ this makes sense to me ~ too often I feel like I’m caught up building scaffoldings.

Walking mediation: We’re out in the yard practicing ‘walking meditation’ ~ he breaks walking down into 4 stages 1) lifting the foot 2) moving the foot forward 3) placing the foot and 4) shifting the weight from one foot to the other ~ he tells us to try and be aware of each step like that ~ while I’m practicing, I notice that some steps occur simultaneously ~ so I combine ‘placing’and ‘shifting’ into one step ~ place/shift ~ then I notice that the more time I spend placing ~ before shifting my weight ~ the more balanced I feel when I walk ~ however, if I wait to long ~ it becomes placing ~ dragging ~ shifting ~ if that makes any sense ~ anyway, I feel this is useful stuff and continue ~ I notice my head moves from side to side a lot more than I’m ordinarily aware ~ not just up and down ~ and that this side to side motion pulls my eyes along with it ~ tricking me into thinking I’m veering off course ~ and causing my leg muscles to reflexively correct ~ which breaks my stride ~ throws me off-balance ~ and makes me stumble like a drunken sailor sometimes ~ I feel excited about this ‘brilliant’ observation ~ and want to rush out and immediately share it with my physical therapist ~ when I remind myself that I’m in the middle of walking meditation at Esalen ~ my physical therapist can definitely wait.

Esalen (day eight)

I’m sitting in the meditation hall ~ practicing a breathing exercise that helps me with my meditation practice ~ I breathe in ~ thoughts rise up ~ I hold my breath ~ thoughts dissolve ~ I breathe out ~ thoughts disappear ~ cleansing my mind ~ and leaving room for another cycle to begin ~ except now, it leaves a state of anticipation instead ~ I remember the lesson I learned about anticipation this week ~ and let go of that too ~ only a little too soon ~ before the next moment arrives ~ and I get a glimpse of the narrow bridge in-between ~ and watch, in terror, as it disappears ~ leaving a big empty space ~ like an abyss ~ opening up below ~ without anything for me to hold on to ~ I scream ~ and the next moment arrives to rescue me ~ filled with startled faces ~ someone asks if everything’s OK ~ but words escape me ~ I mumble something ~ bow ~ and walk out the hall ~ still shaking ~ I kneel on a rock ~ and plunge my head into a stream ~ I walk up to the gardener’s cabin ~ and tell Gabe to avoid the meditation hall after smoking that shit.

Esalen (day seven)

Massage: I lay down ~ shut my eyes ~ and on the back of my eyelids, I see images of ocean water moving between the rocks below ~ it’s more than just an ‘after-image’ ~ I’m right above the beach ~ and the images are moving with the sound of the water ~ strange ~ I lift my head and shake it from side to side ~ and watch other details of the bathhouse flash by ~ I figure it’ll fade shortly ~ and settle in for my massage ~ it was going wonderfully ~ then Chloe pushes in on the heel of my foot and suddenly I can see the outer edge of my heel ~ glowing ~ filled in with colored concentric circles ~ I stay focused on the image ~ it dissolves and in it’s place swirling colors appear ~ like someone taking an eyedropper of color dye and dropping some of it on the surface of dark water ~ creating glowing bubbles ~ on whichever side of my body Chloe is working ~ then, when she squeezes my foot ~ it feels like it goes on forever ~ I am shocked when she places her hands somewhere else ~ because it still feels like she’s squeezing my foot ~ and hard too ~ things continue this way until the massage ends ~ and I tell her how wonderful I feel ~ and that her massage is like a ‘synesthesia’ experience ~ she says she’s never heard of that before ~ I explain it’s like ‘hearing’ a color ~ or ‘seeing’ the music ~ only this time ~ I could ‘see’ the sensation of her hands pressing on me ~ and she goes “wow” ~ I figure it’s a term more familiar to folks in my ‘generation’ ~ so I tell her that I bet her older clients will know what I mean ~ and they’ll agree..!

Workshop: We’re sharing some of the things we wrote this week ~ previously we had only read in small groups ~ I read the piece I wrote about my trip up here (day one) ~ and the baths (day five) ~ then I got lazy and read an old entry from my blog ~ about my neighbor Aria ~ it was relevant though ~ it was one of the places I went to while going down the ‘memory chain’ ~ [waves ~ pelicans ~ Karla ~ Andy ~ Fred ~ Aria ~ car crash] ~ everyone seems to likes it ~ facts are sometimes stranger than fiction ~ then Randy reads a chapter from a book he’s writing ~ I like it a lot ~ sounds like a tale of American gothic ~ then Bill reads a piece about Lorraine ~ Wade ~ and himself ~ in a coca cabana in Havana ~ and I hear echoes of Ken Kesey and Jack Kerouac ~ which are my heroes as well ~ James reads a story about his autistic son Taylor ~ from Taylor’s point of view ~ as Taylor describes his father James ~ and I am moved.

Esalen (day six)

Following the memory chain (or going down the rabbit hole): I’m attending a writing workshop in a house overlooking the surf at Big Sur ..listening to waves crash below ~ from there, I follow a chain of mental impressions that leads me to images of pelicans dive-bombing for fish off the coast of Santa Barbara ~ next I hear the sound of Karla yelling “bombs away” ~ then comes the time I almost got hit by a pelican off the coast of Newport Beach ~ now I’m watching Andy (my dog) chasing birds on the beach ~ now I’m watching Andy chasing Fred through the garage ~ Fred is a pet rat I inherited from my neighbor Richelle when she moved away ~ next, I’m posting ~ “ADOPT FRED" ~ on Craig’s list, complete with pictures ~ now I’m receiving a flaming reply that says ~ THAT’S NOT A RAT ..THAT’S A MOUSE ~ with pictures of rats on the left and mice on the right ~ I can’t tell the difference ~ another reply tells me who I should contact at the Humane Society ~ I see Laura drawing a finger across her throat like a knife ~ a death sentence, huh ~ a five year old girl appears at the door with her mother ~ I see the expression of delight on her face as she takes Fred home ~ I feel a connection with that little girl somehow (?) ~ maybe because I imagine her giving Fred a new lease on life. I had no idea where this would lead when I first sat down to write.

Harmonic presence: I meet Randy and his wife Vicky for dinner at the lodge ~ we go to Huxley auditorium and watch a performance of ‘Harmonic presence” ~ mostly sonorous Tibetan chants ~ echoes of the big bang ~ they explain ~ a symphony in space ~ the speaker asks “where does the sound end and listening begin” ~ and I wonder if the sound ever ends ~ perhaps it’s playing still ~ makes me think of my own theory of sound ~ how rhythm is so important for mental health ~ the first song a child learns is the sound of it’s mother’s heart beat ~ like a metronome ~ preparing the childs brain for connecting events that occur over time ~ like speech ~ signaling where one word ends and the other begins.

Didgeridoo in the baths: Afterwards, we go to the baths and listen to the sound of a ‘didgeridoo’ ~ the sonorous wave vibrates down to my core ~ and transports me into space ~ makes me wonder if alien life forms are listening ~ then I imagine my brain waves traveling there too ~ joining the symphony of space ~ alpha ~ beta ~ theta ~ radiating through the universe ~ where aliens, with clever minds, can pick them up ~ and track the progress of human kind.

We are stardust ~ Billion year old carbon ~ We are golden ~ Caught in the devils bargain ~ And we've got to get ourselves ~ Back to the garden ~ Joni Mitchell

Esalen (day five)

I inch my way to the baths at night ~ there’s no moon to inform my legs ~ so I begin a cycle of losing my balance ~ stumbling ~ and stopping to regain my balance ~ telling myself what a brutal place Esalen can be ~ reminds me of when I used to ski ~ at the outer limit of my ability ~ feeling like, any moment, I was about to crash and burn ~ a kind person appears out of nowhere and asks if they can help ~ as comforting as that sounds ~ I say no thanks ~ this is the reason I come to Esalen ~ to learn how to find my way in the dark ~ we chat briefly and she disappears ~ my mind seems to be sub-consciously mapping the terrain ~ I have come much farther tonight before remembering to turn on the flashlight ~ wait a minute ~ there’s something else in the air ~ ambient light everywhere ~ where is it coming from ~ I look up at the night sky and see the milky way ~ but I go “no, that’s just a romantic notion I read somewhere ~ it must be coming from the cabins on the hill over there” ~ I float to the outer rim of the bath ~ look out over the ocean ~ and watch the waves crash ~ remembering what someone once said ~ I’m living on the cutting edge ~ then I look up and find that I was wrong ~ it wasn’t just a romantic notion of mine ~ the milky way really does light up the path at night ..!

baths at night
a pearlescent glow
as light waves arrive
from a journey that started
millions of years ago

Esalen (day four)

Last night was the first session of a weeklong 'writing' workshop titled ‘Felt Sense’ ~ which is appropriate because, when I write, it usually feels like I’m making no sense ~ anyway, I didn’t buy the book ~ or even look at the notes ~ so I have no idea what’s going to happen ~ we go around the room introducing ourselves ~ I rack my puny brain to think of something pertinent ~ and when it’s my turn to talk, all I come up with is: “hi, my name is Lee ~ I’m a wannabe writer ~ and a master of disguises ~ I’m here because I want to be a more genuine writer ~ and get there without stumbling and looking like a fool” I think the ‘fool’ part caught people’s attention because this morning, over breakfast, some of the members felt inclined to tell me what they think ~ Ronald says it doesn’t look like I have much ‘structure’ in my life ~ and I go “you must have watched me pack” ~ then I become aware that everyone is decked out in the latest fall fashions ~ whereas I look like the gardener ~ next, James tells me I remind him of Bob ‘bobcat’ Goldthwait, the comedian ~ I laugh and say thank you ~ and become instantly self-conscious about my hair ~ he goes on to say that he knows Goldthwait ~ even been backstage with him ~ and guess what ~ he acts exactly the same way as he does on stage ~ I had no idea I looked so scary.

Workshop: I tend to beat myself up more when I write than when I meditate ~ so this workshop is going to be tough ~ especially considering what a rough crowd I’m here with ~ this morning I struggle trying to narrow down a topic ~ it feels like Chinese firecrackers going off in my head ~ one thought leads to another ~ but then, just when I find something inspiring ~ nothing comes out ~ it feels like I’m being strangled by the editorial board ~ and I think ~ what a long week this is gonna be.

Esalen (day three)

My roommate Gregg and I sit in the hot springs until 3 am ~ having another late night discussion ~ he’s in the middle of doing research for a book he’s writing ~ and says that humans are not the most intelligent species on earth ~ at best ~ we come in a distant third ~ whales and dolphins are much smarter ~ in fact, he says, whales evolved wireless Internet millions of years before Al Gore ~ they communicate with each other by sending ‘sonar messages’ ~ across a world wide web ~ that can be heard by whales in any ocean on the planet ~ he has physical evidence to prove it ~ and shows me 8 by 10 glossy photos of a whale’s brain ~ pretty impressive ~ much more convoluted than a human ~ I ask him if it's because they have such a large body to control ~ he says no ~very little of it is ‘motor cortex’ ~ those functions were distributed to areas outside the brain a long time ago. Now humans, he believes, operate from a much lower part of the brain ~ called the ‘reptilian brain’ ~ and that’s what drives our rational ‘cortical’ brain ~ not the other way around ~ as we like to think ~ he goes on to tell me that these lower brain areas assign ‘addresses’ and add ‘passion’ to information entering memory ~ that’s why feelings and people are such wonderful memory prompts ~ I sit fascinated by all of this ~ afterwards, he gives me a gift ~ a book called ‘Up from Dragons’ by Dorion Sagan ~ I’m speechless ~ I remember reading ‘Dragons of Eden’ in college ~ written by his late father Carl Sagan ~ and was fascinated then too ~ I haven’t seen anything like it since ~ until now anyway ~ Gregg is the most interesting part of this trip ~ I tell him so ~ and we hug before he disappears down highway one ~ I must remember to send him a copy of “Defending the Cavewoman”.

Workshop: I blow-off another morning session ~ without feeling the least bit guilty ~ during afternoon meditation I catch a glimpse of ‘simultaneous experience’ ~ the swoosh of an ocean wave ~ the laughter of children playing ~ the sight of other people meditating ~ the smell of a blue sky (!?) ~ all occurring at the same time ~ then I watch my mind quickly put it in order the way it usually does ~ the woman sitting next to me gasps ~ says she experienced the same thing ~ I tell her we’ll call them ‘visions of Johanna’ ~ because that’s her name ~ as well as the title of an old Bob Dylan song that I’d forgotten about ~ until now anyway.

Esalen (day two)

I sleep through morning workshop ..and breakfast too. I stop by the kitchen and prepare a bowl of yogurt and granola ~ I’m sitting in the lodge, writing, when I suddenly feel overcome with fear ..it’s almost noon and the workshop members will be arriving soon. Afraid that they’ll think I’m a slacker ..I get up to leave ..but it’s too late, they’re already here and the instructor is bearing down on me like a hawk ~ I panic ..scramble for an excuse ..and blurt out something like “I’m still adjusting to Esalen time” ..immediately realizing what a bullshit statement that was. When the adrenaline fades ..I see him more clearly (first principle) ~ he’s just walking by ~ smiling from ear to ear ~ gently saying “Good morning Lee” ~ and it occurs to me that he wasn’t looking for an explanation at all ..but I was too busy looking for one to see that.

Workshop: During a mediation period this afternoon, the workshop members complain about loud voices coming from the garden outside ~ James (our workshop instructor) suggests we try shifting our perspective ..and see if we can perceive their voices as ‘raw sound waves’ instead of immediately ‘parsing’ them into words ~ and I’m thinking; yeah, right ..I’m so delusional, I immediately hear voices even when they are just ‘sound waves’. James momentarily places his hand on my leg as I’m about to interrupt ..somehow, he senses that I’m preparing to speak ..I wonder if he also knows what I’m going to say ..(?) He goes on to tell us that ‘anticipation’ is ‘mentally toppling over’ ~ I wonder what that means ~ he says that it means I lose my footing in the present moment (and break principle number two) by leaning over too far .. reaching for a moment that hasn’t arrived yet. OK ..(?) and I think ..my senses deceive me and my mind plays tricks on me.

Esalen (day one)

Arrival: Weather reports inform me that I’m heading into a storm ~ it’s already reached the coast of Monterey and moving toward Big Sur fast ~ I need fortification now ~ I stop at a subway shop in San Luis Obispo and instruct the preparer how to make my usual spinach and avocado salad ~ and put it inside an Italian roll ~ he thanks me and says that he’s never made one like that before ~ I put the top up on the alfa and inch my way to Big Sur ~ on a winding mountain road ~ in the fog and rain ~ on a pitch-black night ~ with the ocean moving hundreds of feet below. I’m scared shitless. The fog obscures the curves and hides the rocks on the road ahead ~ I feel small and vulnerable ~ like the wind is going to sweep me out to sea any second ~ I arrive at Esalen like an hour and a half late for workshop ~ I want to go directly to the hot springs but social pressure compels me to attend.

Workshop: James Baraz is conducting a weekend workshop on ‘Vipassana meditation’ ~ I have no idea what that means ~ he’s discussing four principles: 1) seeing clearly 2) being present 3) noticing change and 4) suspending judgment ~ but I’m sitting there going: he looks like someone I know ..Matt ..and I immediately rush to judge: 1) this workshop is going to suck 2) what a waste of time and money and 3) I should have gone to the hot springs instead ~ I eventually settle down and realize that he knows his shit ~ so I eliminate two out of three ..still unsure about whether or not I should have gone to the baths.

Baths: Afterwards, I go to the cabin and meet my roommate ..Gregg, a Psychiatrist from Ann Arbor Michigan ..and I’m like: “you’re a PSYCHIATRIST ..? We go down to the hot springs and talk until 3 am ~ I remember asking him about the outlook for ‘neurofeedback’ to help kids with ADD ~ although he's strongly against using medication ~ he tells me that most working parents would rather drug their children than wait weeks for neurofeedback to take affect ~ back at the cabin I pass out on the bed.

Walking out of the shadow

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Click here to see original ~~>Elise

Elise

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Junk

I feel a cool breeze on my face ..it makes the candles flicker ..the chimes ring ..and my mind wander. A thousand and one things rattling around up there ..not one worth writing about. Why don't I feel like there's anything worth writing about ? Nothing entertaining enough ..clever enough ..or interesting enough. It all seems like a bunch of boring crap you'd find in a junk drawer ..images of someone I haven't seen since 2001 ..remnants of a failed relationship I'm still trying to fix. I'm even trying to improve a conversation that I had the night before. I wonder why I do that ? Maybe if I rummage around long enough I'll find something interesting ..a key to a door I haven't opened in a long time. You know, I'd even settle for a junk drawer ..because it's becoming a real strain trying to keep my thoughts in order ..I'm always afraid of miscalculating ..taking the wrong step ..saying the wrong thing and making myself look like an idiot. In fact, I think I'm more afraid of that than I am falling off a cliff ..it's true ..as crazy as that sounds.

Peninsula

I’m not a mountaintop ..nor am I an island or a rock ..I think I’m more like a peninsula ..that’s what I identify with most ..a peninsula ..where a tiny sliver of sand connects me to the mainland ..or mainstream society ..and, from time to time ..dissolves under water ..like driftwood you see one day and not the next ..commitments erode ..contacts are broken ..mortgages foreclose ..and people drift away ..but, I think the main reason people pass so regularly is because I’m a real son-of-a-bitch to get along with ..I get hostile and drive people away ..which probably means I prefer it that way ..a peninsula is not such a bad thing to be .. waves break on both sides ..and no matter which way the wind blows, it’s always a soothing ocean breeze ..and when things get really rough, I break away ..find sanctuary from the people that hurt or disturb me ..only problem is, I can’t seem to break away from the thoughts in my head that hurt or disturb me.