Friday, September 18, 2009

Blog - Undefining Moment (tm)

When I woke up on the 11th day of my Bali adventure, I got up real fast, I was well rested, even though my sleeping hours were under 6. I did a Kundalini yoga class, and it felt F’n amazing, my veins were bursting with Shakti, a creative flow, I knew that things were changing in my life, AGAIN!!

The moment I woke I was acutely aware of the difference in the way I experienced the world, subtle, but distinct. I was seeing the pulse in everything, the complete rise and fall and this rise and fall was something that I am not only aware of but actively teach. I am seeing and feeling the pulse in my belly, in my veins, and I let the amazement barely affect me when I saw it in the Balinese jungle that I have been waking to for now almost two weeks.

Then I saw Sarah, a talented body worker from LA who just recently arrived at here at this amazing artists compound; her heart was palpating just to the left of her sternum, like a animated cartoon character, who had been stricken with love. I could see her organ begging to express beyond its vessel, in layers, rising forward from the center, then making a staircase down to her chest, a sacred mandala . I was no doubt amazed, and started questioning my eyes. Linking sight to vision and feeding the brain, I was wondering if I was lost in the Balinese daze, or maybe just yet again falling for the vision of a goddess in my presence.
the freedom yoga project

When we both entered the space for the yoga practice, I eagerly got on the mat, as if it would protect me from myself as a shield it has displayed in my life many times before. As I sat I refused to glance at Sarah, in fear that I would be locked in a gaze with what was building by her cleavage. So I sat and stared straight ahead and buzzed. The teacher, from Spain, was explaining how her name, which I missed, was a gift that a friend dreamed up for her. I don’t remember it, but it is an exotic sounding name starting with the letter A, and it means a musical instrument I’ve never heard of.

She was however listening attentively and I thankfully took that at a chance to look at her. Her curly locks resembled that of many a girl I grew up around. Thick tight curls, brunette ringlets that hung throughout her head like a Hasidic Jewish man’s Peyos would. Her hair had life, it had a pulse, and my mind took the dance with the pulse of both the terror and the excitement of such an intense perspective of the world. Pulsing hearts, typhoon-like curls. Both as an escape and a grounding mechanism as I was shocked and mesmerized at the sights I was seeing in my minds eye, I closed my eyes.

We see better with our eyes closed. What I saw was a completeness that brought me back to the single time it has touched me: my days of experimentation back in 2005, when I was spending time with the wrong people at the right time. People that were unconsciously exploring their consciousness, through a curiosity in social lubricants. About two years later I became part of a yoga community in Vancouver that was, and still is consciously experimenting with the expansion of their consciousness by stepping through doors that are only unlocked by either nature’s gifts, or scientific design based on nature’s capability.

Today there was only assistance from mother nature herself. I’m in Ubud, and the spirit tends to expedite in an environment like this. Funny how in a place like Hong Kong where everything is expedited, the soul sacrifices her transformation process, to clear the path for an expedited way to Mt. Money. Whereas in this paradise, Mt. Money is already there. Maybe not in the wallet, yet in a way that transcends the physical tangibility of the monetary value. The path up to the top of Mt. Money actually goes beyond the house in which the stereotype Hong Konger has positioned himself; it’s a shift in perspectives: in a way that would place the common Hong Konger’s identity in a half way house, it’s just not that important, the poor are rich here, because the entire world is so obviously connected to the mother, the earth, the dirt.

The pulse that I am describing can never be fully explained to you, yet you know it. It is occurring in your heart as we speak, and that’s on the more superficial level, but that same pulse is happening deep within every part of you and everything that exists on subtler levels.

I’m spending my post lunch afternoon at the local spot, Kafe, a restaurant that offers western cuisine at affordable prices, ranging from beef burgers to raw vegan cuisine (a lot of which is designed by a Goddess chef Goddess chef Leah, killer raw chocolate), and it’s all good. I choose an outdoor comfy couch setting so I can order a coffee and spark up a Clove cigarette. I’m not a tobacco smoker, but "when in Rome, do what the Romans do". It’s a chemical experimentation I’ve become quite fond of on this trip, the jacked up nature of the gourmet coffee, brings me to a sharp awareness, raising my fire/pita level, bringing my inner heat to the surface of my being, the Clove, tends to make me flow, a light-headedness, which gets me both into my breath (albeit not in the healthiest of ways) as well as into my body. This combination is completed with the marriage of story telling devices. The words of Anthony Kedis pulsate off the page of the 'Red Hot Chilli Peppers' lead singer’s autobiography Scar Tissue , while the rhythm of ‘Helios’ beats travel out my earphones through my eardrums resting in an amalgamation with images that the book conjures up in my impressionable mind.

I’m 30 and bowing down to the psyche gods, my brain is impressionable still. I want to learn, and through my yoga practice have become acutely aware that I am a learning machine, in fact the process of yoga makes it obvious. When we do something with care and awareness it will sink in to our cellular memory and our cognitive filing cabinet; add an emotional texture to it, and the learning process is attainable with patience.

I am doing so within the lessons of the pulse of life, many yogi’s have guru’s, teachers and mentors, I’m not one of those yogi’s. I have a pulse that beats experience through me and breathes me through life. I have an understanding that deep within my being there is a guidance, and that guidance has a voice which I can heed the call of, if I’m at the right place to listen to it’s clarity. That is my practice: to connect to the pulsation, of my soul, everything else is out the door.

I’m in process of un-defining every bit of me, because the flux that is my calling has no shape except in the present moment. If you take a picture of it, it’s obsolete, I’m not a yoga teacher, nor a writer, not an artist, nor a poet, not a Jew, nor a smoker, I’m none of these things, because in any given moment I am any and /or all of them, and guess what? so are you.

The paradigm shift is here, your path to Mt. Money starts with the step into the freedom of ordered-chaos, and find the complete freedom of un-defining yourself, your practice, your very is-ness. Eventually as you lay on your death bed and gasp the final earth breath, you will complete your life by an un-defining moment. Why wait, expedite towards the inevitable, and discover the layers beneath the skin, beneath the western idea of who we are, and touch your energetic center, your essence, I dare you, and implore you, I love you, and am you, So let’s.

We will rock we will roll, when the yogi’s take control.
Global Mala 2009 ignites this weekend!! Rise Up!!
I'll be there as a poet, to the Yogic tunes....BALI Pulsate to the rhyme.

GoBee Free

editor-Rani Kamaruddin

Copyright © Lawrence-Jacob Milman, 2009. All rights reserved. The reproduction or transmission of all or part of the work, whether by photocopying or storing in any medium by electronic means or otherwise, without the written permission of the owner, is prohibited. Any unauthorised use or act in relation to the work appearing on this website will result in both civil and criminal liability.
Freedom Player
-Sarah A. Green

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