your gentle breezes
caress my physical form.
I have been sick,
for so long,
Overwhelmed by fear,
What has changed today?
How come today
I can see beyond the self
To the Self?
Is it so mundane
as to be due to a coolness waft of air?
Or is it a taste of infinity?
A wormhole to your realm?
An undeserved dollop of grace?
You are inside always
and yet so often I cannot feel you
And I lapse into despondency,
preoccupation with the self,
Why today can I see Thee
In the galaxy of stars within?
How can I keep this view
Despite problems, illness,
please take me over,
please let me see
Thee daily within.
Please let me love you
and all who live
with wild abandon
and the diamond dazzle of compassion,
for my many sins,
Oh, Zephyr of air,
wafting with the perfume
of the Divine
forever in my heart,
and blow away
fears and tears
the self forever!
I went to the Zmar retreat online from New York City a week and a half ago in very bad shape. Was going through withdrawal from a psychiatric drug for Bipolar, having been on it for 20 years, and having a really tough time. But came the Zmar retreat with Mooji, and I entered in desperation, which is actually a good way to start a retreat. Had done an intensive with Mooji before and all sorts of resistances came up and a cleansing, Satsang flu, Mooji calls it. This time was different. Resistance came and went. My body cleansed itself. But there came an inkling, a little doorway into the Self. A peak into the peace felt long ago with Holy Communion in the Catholic Church and in meditation with Yogananda. For whatever reason, those doors closed to me. I wanted a guru who was still in bodily form to listen to and follow.
The retreat started auspiciously. Eager to begin, when the opening ceremony started and Mooji appeared, three separate instances of energy running up my spine told me it would be a good retreat. Mooji places no special value on the Kundalini energy. “Child’s play” he calls it. Still for me it was a sign this was the right place to be.
Up at 3 and 4 AM in the silence of pre-dawn in New York City to hear a 2-4 hour Satsang. And then came back at 2:30 for another 2-4 hour one. Mooji spoke healing words. They were like salve to a gaping wound. He spoke tough words, too, but all was done with great love.
The Zmar retreat was such a blessing. Some parts were rough. And some parts scary when the energy led to intense releases in some people.
The “person” still dominates but so many people in the Sangha expressed feelings and questions like mine. That gave me hope. And some people did awaken. As an added bonus, an answer came with a solution to a medication problem that has had positive results.
The Sangha was wonderful and staff inspirational. I desperately want my heart to open as I see it has in Mooji and his staff. Don’t know that it will. But Mooji’s self-inquiry works to help step back from the self, the ego, the person, the mind. He teaches us to be aware of the tricks the mind plays. His Being meditations bring Presence. If you are interested, he has many videos of Satsangs and guided meditations on YouTube open to all. I offer the one below as an introduction.
I love you so much, dear Mooji. You show such compassion and love. Thank you for your endless patience and outpouring of your magnificent heart. You live to help people find the Self, people tortured by “mind” and the “person/ego”.
Have started an online silent retreat with Mooji. My reading of your posts of late has been sporadic, my writing, non-existent. Apologies. Trying to find my way back as I said in the last post. This seems like a good time to go on a silent retreat. So for a week I will not be reading or writing posts or using the Internet and will be trying to keep talking to a minimum while still running a household. Hopefully this will break through whatever is wrong. For those curious about the retreat, click on the link below:
No words. No photos. Fractured mind/body of Akathisia.
Faulty connection to God. Weak link to Mooji.
It’s been awhile.
Forgive me if I have neglected your posts. Cannot process lots of meaning. Losing cognitive functioning.
Medication change. In the last months of withdrawal. Finally totally off the blasted Zyprexa. A psych med. Heavy duty antipsychotic on for 15 + years. Sick from withdrawal and from increased dose of another antipsychotic been on 40 years. Almost daily panic attacks and lots and lots of migraines. Nausea. Anxiety ad infinitum.
When will strength/creativity/spirituality return?
Better question…WILL it return?
There are far, far worse things. Two blogging friends I hold in my heart, very sick, with serious stuff.
Better psych meds needed. No, no, no! Needing psych meds NOT a sign of weakness. Unmedicated Bipolar 1 can be fatal.
Poetry a memory. Beauty ignored. Even my refuge, Nature, cannot inspire.
Will figure this out with Doc. Hope to figure it out with Doc.
Hope is hard to find.
Love still there.
The most important thing.
Send to all.
Friend, Kitt, a fellow Bipolar, has a son who is a fellow migraine sufferer, horrible for one so young. Reblogging her post because it is so informative and so many people think a migraine is just a bad headache. For all who suffer from them, this is for you! Thanks, Kitt!
Originally posted on Kitt O'Malley:
So, it is May – Mental Health Awareness Month, and I’m not motivated to write about mental health. Not mine, at least. Instead, I find myself drawn to write about parenting a son who has suffered severe migraines since he was a toddler.
My son’s earliest migraines involved gastrointestinal symptoms, but no headaches. When he was a toddler, he would throw up for three days straight during and following holidays and play dates. At first we thought he got sick with gastroenteritis every holiday, but my sister pointed out the pattern and that he was reacting to being overwhelmed.
According to the Migraine Research Foundation:
Migraine is not just a bad headache. It is a neurological disease, with head pain and associated symptoms, such as nausea, vomiting, dizziness, sensitivity to touch, sound, light, and odors, abdominal pain, and mood changes. While children generally…
View original 257 more words
Originally posted on Silver Threading:
I mulled over in my mind all night, what the best way to unite humanity could be.
I dreamt of kindness and saw a magnificent sight.
People were compassionate and kind to one another.
They embraced and smiled, as they shook hands.
I loved seeing all the random acts of kindness.
These random acts grew and spread to others.
I was filled with gladness.
And then, I woke up.
Give it a try! Here are 100 Random Acts of Kindness from 100 Things To Do
Thanks for stopping in on Be Wonderful Wednesday! I look forward to seeing you all again. Join Ronovan Writes and tell us what you think unites humanity.
It is late afternoon and spring by the calendar, although still quite cool. I have just spent some time at our neighbor’s pond, listening to a form of music that some have likened to the sound to bells. Others liken it to bird song. And still others with unimaginable disdain, to “some kind of nature noise.” For me it is one of the happiest of sounds– the act of creation transformed into sound decibels for all to hear. A sound that comes from the earth and resounds to the heavens, unwittingly praising the Almighty. It is a form of ecstasy when the sound surrounds me totally, filling my ears every evening with perhaps the single-most highlight of spring for me– the siren song of the Spring Peepers counterbalanced by the deeper sound of wood frogs.
How have they cast their spell over so many? I cannot say except that their song is uplifting and filled with hope despite the natural perils they face daily. For, as true of all of us, they may die at any moment– say as a meal for a nearby perching crow or underneath murky waters eaten by a snapping turtle. They call for a mate without ceasing, without fear, single-mindedly, without a thought for their own safety. This is nature at her most elemental, in her most singular scope. The peepers all sing out vying to be heard– an a cappella choir of voices. In some spots, I am told, their song is deafening. How nice to be there; I cannot get enough of their sweet music. It moves me to tears– these tiny creatures singing out their heart’s desire.
As I return home to family “situations” and domestic duties, I yearn for the simplicity and total fervor of their song. For if they sing then all is “right” in at least that small part of the world. Progress has not paved over their pond. Disdainful humans have not drained a “vernal pool.” David M. Carroll writes about vernal pools in his books on turtles called The Swampwalker’s Journal. As the title suggests, Carroll walks such places in search of turtles and other amphibians. He defines a vernal pool as a pool of water that fills up in Fall and Winter, swells in the Spring and often dries up by end of Summer. But a vernal pool is utmost a place of magic, not only where turtles lurk, but where mating frogs deposit gelatinous eggs which turn into tadpoles first, and there, later become frogs. And after a requisite series of warm days, followed by spring rains, on the first dark night, vernal pools become the site of the “salamander night.” Salamanders leave their hibernacula to go for a night of endless mating and then return to leaf litter in the woods to disappear for the rest of the year. Some people who know nothing of vernal pools and their function deem them a nuisance, a big puddle to be filled in or drained. Some people know little of spring peepers and wood frogs except that they are “noisy,” “like some sort of insect.” Poor insects are made out to be the pesky lowest of the low. The natural symphony of hormonal, harmonic sounds sometimes falls on deaf ears.
After finishing my evening chores, I try reading, but find the haunting sound of the spring peepers and wood frogs digging deep within my psyche, making me restless, wishing to be part of that pond, surrounded on all sides by the sex song, inebriated with the unbridled joy in the air, submerged in the utter power of nature manifesting in one of her gentler forms. For the song of the Spring Peepers nature celebrates life-to-be rather than the taking-away of life. Most of all, the song of the Spring Peepers is a song of tremendous faith, faith in love, faith that love will propagate, and faith that new life will emerge.