This is so much more than
those small things people call love.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
wedding pictures and poem
I see visions:
Waiting for the next life:
We move as one:
Living
the decade before we were born
moments until the day we are dying.
Waiting for the next life:
to bring full this circle
a vision of us in the place where
the smoke of karma stings our eyes no longer.
We move as one:
Living
Dancing
Singing
Union.
Friday, March 4, 2011
Maha Shivaratri
Last night my yin and I drove to Miami to celebrate Maha Shivaratri, the darkest night of the year (maybe) and the wedding night of Shiva and Shakti (definitely). She (my yin, not Shakti, but really the same) has been braving the I-95 corridor every day this week to take part in a series of advanced workshops with the founder of the school of yoga she's currently studying.
It has been less than a week since my yin and I were married ourselves, and the coincidence of our Union and that of the Divine masculine and feminine was not entirely coincidental. In fact, under different circumstances we would have likely planned it for last night, but Thursday night wedding ceremonies are exceedingly inconvenient for out of town guests.
The point is that last night served as a mini-honeymoon for us, one night of celebration that functioned as a comma between her workshops, my thesis revisions, and the next three months of loose ends before we're able to take off cross-country on our honeymoon proper. That, like the wedding itself, is whole other topic though, and I've yet to adequately process either. So, in the meantime, I'll stick to last night.
The event was held in North Miami Beach on the second floor of the student union at Florida International University. I'm not sure that any of this matters, but it seemed a little odd to see hundreds of people piling into a (virtually) deserted college campus with yoga mats under their arms and stick-on dots attached to their heads. In fact, there were enough bindis in the room to make one believe it was a convention of the No Doubt fan club circa 1997.
There was also a lot of perfume in the air, and leggings on peoples' arms, and strange hats that seemed ill-suited to the venue. This mingling of spirituality and club attire was more mystifying than mystical, and my sense of befuddled wonderment only increased at the end of the relaxation. Amazingly, some sort of make-up fairy had made the rounds while our eyes were closed, and when we opened them again, we were greeted by a green tea face mask. I made a sideways comment about these things to my yin.
She asked, appropriately, "Are you being a little judgmental?"
The satsang that started the evening, however, was quite good; and I spoke with Douglas Brooks before the kirtan began. In his talk, he had given a very poetic analogy concerned light and shadow ("The brighter the light, the darker the shadow"), but it seemed to me that darkness is determined by the density of the obstacle. A thick cloud, for instance, casts deeper shadow than a wispy cloud, which made me curious about the veracity of the comparison.
We spent a few more minutes discussing 12th century Sanskrit poetry in the shadow of the altar before the chanting began. (And by "discussing", I mean he spoke and I listened.)
Krishna Das came on around 11pm, which is usually my bedtime, but my yin loves chanting beyond all compare. We sat down near the center of the room and stayed there until the glare of texting and sound of idle chatter became overwhelming. Unfortunately, it seems that the ancient wisdom of yoga is unable to compete with the communicative allure of the iPhone.
Trying to rein in my judgment, I said nothing critical, but suggested that we move to the outskirts of the group. My yin agreed, and we spent the rest of the night holding one another in quiet open spaces of the periphery. She sang softly in my ear:
By the time we left both of us felt as though we had already floated halfway back to our bed. I dreamed of mantra all night long...
John Friend, praying to something
It has been less than a week since my yin and I were married ourselves, and the coincidence of our Union and that of the Divine masculine and feminine was not entirely coincidental. In fact, under different circumstances we would have likely planned it for last night, but Thursday night wedding ceremonies are exceedingly inconvenient for out of town guests.
But this is beside the point.
The point is that last night served as a mini-honeymoon for us, one night of celebration that functioned as a comma between her workshops, my thesis revisions, and the next three months of loose ends before we're able to take off cross-country on our honeymoon proper. That, like the wedding itself, is whole other topic though, and I've yet to adequately process either. So, in the meantime, I'll stick to last night.
The event was held in North Miami Beach on the second floor of the student union at Florida International University. I'm not sure that any of this matters, but it seemed a little odd to see hundreds of people piling into a (virtually) deserted college campus with yoga mats under their arms and stick-on dots attached to their heads. In fact, there were enough bindis in the room to make one believe it was a convention of the No Doubt fan club circa 1997.
Gwen Stefani, starting a trend
There was also a lot of perfume in the air, and leggings on peoples' arms, and strange hats that seemed ill-suited to the venue. This mingling of spirituality and club attire was more mystifying than mystical, and my sense of befuddled wonderment only increased at the end of the relaxation. Amazingly, some sort of make-up fairy had made the rounds while our eyes were closed, and when we opened them again, we were greeted by a green tea face mask. I made a sideways comment about these things to my yin.
She asked, appropriately, "Are you being a little judgmental?"
yogis, waiting to be judged
The satsang that started the evening, however, was quite good; and I spoke with Douglas Brooks before the kirtan began. In his talk, he had given a very poetic analogy concerned light and shadow ("The brighter the light, the darker the shadow"), but it seemed to me that darkness is determined by the density of the obstacle. A thick cloud, for instance, casts deeper shadow than a wispy cloud, which made me curious about the veracity of the comparison.
"I didn't make it up," he said.
I was profoundly satisfied with his answer.
We spent a few more minutes discussing 12th century Sanskrit poetry in the shadow of the altar before the chanting began. (And by "discussing", I mean he spoke and I listened.)
Shiva, dancing for Shakti
Krishna Das came on around 11pm, which is usually my bedtime, but my yin loves chanting beyond all compare. We sat down near the center of the room and stayed there until the glare of texting and sound of idle chatter became overwhelming. Unfortunately, it seems that the ancient wisdom of yoga is unable to compete with the communicative allure of the iPhone.
Krishna Das, calling out names of the Divine
Trying to rein in my judgment, I said nothing critical, but suggested that we move to the outskirts of the group. My yin agreed, and we spent the rest of the night holding one another in quiet open spaces of the periphery. She sang softly in my ear:
Radhe, Radhe, Govinda, Govinda
Govinda, Bhaja, Govinda
Govinda, Bhaja, Govinda
By the time we left both of us felt as though we had already floated halfway back to our bed. I dreamed of mantra all night long...
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