In slow motion, I held the handlebar of the motor bike, I wouldn’t let go, even though the tight turn was steering us into oncoming traffic, I held till my cognitive wiring made sense of grasping the left handlebar brake and bringing the vehicle to a halt with my face looking at a Balinese man in the eyes, I laughed from complete embarrassment, and drove off. As I edged away from the intersection, I heard the voice of my friend Samantha Miller, Acro Yoga teacher and yet another raw food enthusiast that was trailing just behind say, “good save”, it perked me up and kept me going, but not without checking in with Sarah, she was hanging for dear life as my passenger for the moment that felt stretched into a lifetime. The universe has the courtesy of slowing down time and expanding space when death is within reach.
No damage, and plenty of humility.
After resolving the shock, the day proved to be informed by the powerful moment within the moment.
Somehow, a moment that was inches away from disaster was avoided. How? By gripping, holding on to something so tightly. I could swear that it was Sarah’s presence on the bike that got me holding from a deeper place, a silence within, that had me glued with ease and relaxation.
Unscaved, we went on with our day, spending most of it on a Motorbike, and really relaxing into the involvement that an open-air vehicle provides. A car driver is so disconnected from the road in relation to a motorbike driver, on the motorbike your part of the action, in a sheltered vehicle the option of presence is just that, like a family night in front of the television one can opt in and out of the goings on. On a motor bike in Bali, stay aware, Hati Hati (Balinese term on road signs for ‘caution’) because at any moment a dog may shoot out into traffic, a hole in the road might demand a last second swerve, or a 12 year old kid with more motor bike experience then you, might graze your ride with an ear to ear smile, within the ordered-chaos a constant extension of the practice that the lifestyle here makes possible.
The day was rich, full of meetings that took us beyond the Forest of Ubud through the freeways, and exhaust of polluting cars, back into the freshness of beach towns. From the amazing Constance of tribal temples, that act as homes, to the insidious reality of western superficiality that paints logos across people minds. A day with manifesting qualities that will flower in the silence of moments to come.
As the sun set, Sarah remained holding her thighs to my hips, hours on a motor bike can make you go nutty, but even though our asses numbed out and needed a lil’ mushing to feel again, we both relaxed deeply into the depth of conversation that was possible on a cross island trip. I needed to hit up a bathroom, and started feeling a tad lost; the day was full of maps. I randomly stopped off at a building that seemed lifeless, there was a spark of spirit, a guitar playing Balinese man, who reminded me of Lawrence P, enough reason to stop, as I left Sarah with the official map duties, I sauntered off to search for a toilet, walked up the back stairs of what first seemed to be a restaurant, only to have a rush of silence wash over me.
I had stepped into an art space that was full, at least 30, maybe 50, maybe more, Mandalas.
An art form that in the past I’ve had little experience with, none really other then when Patrick Creelman, my Karmic Brother, and one of the first men that allowed me to dream the dream of a male stepping into the role of Yoga teacher; he placed a large mandala ceremoniously above the Puja for our teacher training, in the summer of 2007.
But now I’ve been shown the light, the same way my mom and I once saw the amazing transformation of our awareness, by me getting my motorcycle license back in 2005, motorbikes were deeply imbedded in our conciseness, and everywhere we would look we would notice them. Since Sarah came into my life Mandalas have become ubiquitous, not only because she has two tattooed on her back, but it’s her language and when someone comes into your life with a message, the message tends to reveal itself by illuminating not the words as much as the silence that words soak in.
There’s a wealth in the Sanskrit term Sundi- meaning the space between, giving life to the seemingly empty.
Like a kid, or a Man, I returned, took over the Mapping duties, and knew that Sarah was about to meet her soul mate, all I could do was give my discovery away, step aside and let life unfold, I gave her time, knowing the language she was about to drench herself in was beyond alien to me. Me and the map, her and her life’s purpose over and over and over again.
I figured out the way to the Gaya Fusion Gallery where my friend Made Surya works, (I call him my brother from another mother-land, a local Balinese artist, and fast friend, that Daphne Tse introduced me to) then headed back to experience the spotlite art work that Sarah had lost herself in.
No damage, and plenty of humility.
After resolving the shock, the day proved to be informed by the powerful moment within the moment.
Somehow, a moment that was inches away from disaster was avoided. How? By gripping, holding on to something so tightly. I could swear that it was Sarah’s presence on the bike that got me holding from a deeper place, a silence within, that had me glued with ease and relaxation.
Unscaved, we went on with our day, spending most of it on a Motorbike, and really relaxing into the involvement that an open-air vehicle provides. A car driver is so disconnected from the road in relation to a motorbike driver, on the motorbike your part of the action, in a sheltered vehicle the option of presence is just that, like a family night in front of the television one can opt in and out of the goings on. On a motor bike in Bali, stay aware, Hati Hati (Balinese term on road signs for ‘caution’) because at any moment a dog may shoot out into traffic, a hole in the road might demand a last second swerve, or a 12 year old kid with more motor bike experience then you, might graze your ride with an ear to ear smile, within the ordered-chaos a constant extension of the practice that the lifestyle here makes possible.
The day was rich, full of meetings that took us beyond the Forest of Ubud through the freeways, and exhaust of polluting cars, back into the freshness of beach towns. From the amazing Constance of tribal temples, that act as homes, to the insidious reality of western superficiality that paints logos across people minds. A day with manifesting qualities that will flower in the silence of moments to come.
As the sun set, Sarah remained holding her thighs to my hips, hours on a motor bike can make you go nutty, but even though our asses numbed out and needed a lil’ mushing to feel again, we both relaxed deeply into the depth of conversation that was possible on a cross island trip. I needed to hit up a bathroom, and started feeling a tad lost; the day was full of maps. I randomly stopped off at a building that seemed lifeless, there was a spark of spirit, a guitar playing Balinese man, who reminded me of Lawrence P, enough reason to stop, as I left Sarah with the official map duties, I sauntered off to search for a toilet, walked up the back stairs of what first seemed to be a restaurant, only to have a rush of silence wash over me.
I had stepped into an art space that was full, at least 30, maybe 50, maybe more, Mandalas.
An art form that in the past I’ve had little experience with, none really other then when Patrick Creelman, my Karmic Brother, and one of the first men that allowed me to dream the dream of a male stepping into the role of Yoga teacher; he placed a large mandala ceremoniously above the Puja for our teacher training, in the summer of 2007.
But now I’ve been shown the light, the same way my mom and I once saw the amazing transformation of our awareness, by me getting my motorcycle license back in 2005, motorbikes were deeply imbedded in our conciseness, and everywhere we would look we would notice them. Since Sarah came into my life Mandalas have become ubiquitous, not only because she has two tattooed on her back, but it’s her language and when someone comes into your life with a message, the message tends to reveal itself by illuminating not the words as much as the silence that words soak in.
There’s a wealth in the Sanskrit term Sundi- meaning the space between, giving life to the seemingly empty.
Like a kid, or a Man, I returned, took over the Mapping duties, and knew that Sarah was about to meet her soul mate, all I could do was give my discovery away, step aside and let life unfold, I gave her time, knowing the language she was about to drench herself in was beyond alien to me. Me and the map, her and her life’s purpose over and over and over again.
I figured out the way to the Gaya Fusion Gallery where my friend Made Surya works, (I call him my brother from another mother-land, a local Balinese artist, and fast friend, that Daphne Tse introduced me to) then headed back to experience the spotlite art work that Sarah had lost herself in.
a Ordered-Chaos Mandala
This amazing trip has made things obvious to me, clear, and without options; within no options, many options do exist. The next step in my life has been unveiled. The discovery came in the silence, silence has been searching for me, destiny if you will, it can’t be avoided it will happen, it just will.
A small crisply tanned Balinese man softly stumbled out of his living quarters to show us his life’s work, with a smile that made my heart melt, and could have brought me to my knees as a student, he was inherently wise, explaining how his one trip to Los Angeles (Sarah’s home), made it obvious that his home was paradise on earth, even though he had no way of knowing prior to leaving the island.
He dropped wisdom in one comment that rode through my veins, commenting on the creation of his work “it all is born from a small seed, that seed is silence, I try to make the world a more silent place”, “ahhhhhhhha” I was relaxed in and inspired to live every moment in that frame of mind.
A day later, after having lunch and introducing Yoga to Wayan the medicine women Elizabeth Gilbert writes about in Eat, Pray, Love, I Walked over to a highly anticipated date with one of my favourite people in the World Cat Kabira. (A women way ahead of her time, we connected with a special dose of energy in May of this year during Ana Forrest’s advanced teacher training program in Rhode Island, Cat has an amazing story, and a solid Forrest Yoga DVD, contact me to buy one) Cat has a big part in Freedom Yoga, her ability to see into the spirit of an individual is magical, and back in May she made it clear to me that my creativity was not being harnessed in a productive way. She read my palms as if she was reading ancient scriptures that she had studied for lifetimes, knowing Cat, I know she has.
Even though Freedom Yoga has attracted a great amount of resistance from many people, including myself, it lives with purpose, and if for other no reason then for me to dance with adversity of creating something and sharing my depth with the world. That is more then enough.
This time Cat simplified her read on me, with five months of development behind us “listen to your body” was the advice, “listen to the stillness, and allow what is already decided to be informed by how you feel now.” As I held my hands in a high ten fashion she read “don’t settle” her gaze then lifted from my hands, pulled into an eye lock with me, dissolving her tender, wit, and as she does so often with me in the midst of core work she went from friend and contemporary to medicine woman, her determined tone vibrated deep into my being “promise me, you won’t settle”, “I won’t”. She is superhuman in many ways, yet she is only two months older then me and a human being with love as her dance partner, finding ways to allow her love and truth align, so very human, this wizard is.
I’m mid-air of this amazing journey.
Bali has re-introduced me to my true self, the stillness that a half a decade ago took MDMA and Eckhart Tolle’s ‘Power of Now’ to locate, now was attained by ‘being’ on an island with a culture of acceptance.
This morning prior to leaving for the airport, sitting on the toilet, while Sarah was four feet away in the shower, I was struck with an obvious truth, so I shared it with her. “ Obviously our connection has been moments of yes. Yes we are soul mates, Yes we found each other, Yes it’s magical, and at the same time obviously, we are finding ourselves needing space, questioning why we have invested all this time in each other. It is exactly where we are in our lives, we are not only mirroring each other, we are mirroring our own lives within this relationship, neither of us know where life is taking us, neither of us have any idea what lies ahead, all we do know by looking at the other, is that the other one of us has so much to offer the world, and it’s going to be big, it’s going to be special, and it’s going to take practice. We are exactly where we are supposed to be, with no idea where this road leads, only a clear path of a small showing of what lies immediately ahead.
For Sarah, her Bali trip was extended, from just over two weeks to close to three months, and potentials of growth in all directions that had a sweet incubation period.
As for Me, I’m in the meaningful intermission of this 5-week play, the Sundi, the space between. The stillness locked in, a return to another Island, Hong Kong, for under 24 hours, to perform with my friends at Gecko Lounge , then the awaited return to the third Island of this adventure Manhattan. Only willingness set as an intention, and the ability to listen to the silence within, will turn the page to the crystallizing story of my first year in my 30’s, into the rest of my life.
The Freedom Yoga Project, means more to me as a Blog, or as a Band of Musicians, but the seed came watching elderly Hong Kong women dance on a sunny Tuesday morning walk in late March, that I never would have went on had my heart not been broken.
Thank you.
For all of you have been my bridge to GOD.
This is the leap into the water; see you on the other side.
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.
Sivananda ashram Yoga retreat Bahamas offers advanced yoga teacher training course. Yoga teacher training offers proficiency in Hatha yoga, Bhakti
ReplyDeleteyoga,Karma yoga,Raja Yoga,Vedanta philosophy and anatomy.advanced yoga teacher
training
Yoga course
ReplyDeletethe word Yoga belongs to spiritual and sometimes utopian Indian world, even if ancient Yoga, someone says, didn’t present any cultural or religious connotation. The ancient origin of Yoga certainly is pre-air, as archaeological findings of Harrappa and Mohenjo-daro prove, cities belonged to the culture of Indo Valley, that come before development of Veda’s India.
Classical Yoga, instead, sees the light in the first centuries of our period, and it is considered one of the six Darsana, or points of view, of the philosophical-religious Hindu thought which coding, as everyone knows, is ascribed to Patanjali, writer of Yoga-sutra or Aphorisms of dating Yoga, as always happens when we are in contact with Indian history, that is very uncertain.