Friday, April 16, 2004
Minor Miracles
Sometimes, when we are so caught up in the high drama of the events surrounding the kundalini experience, we overlook the unexpected acts of grace which occur in everyday life. These cannot be separated out from the overall experience--everything is part of everything else, and together they make the tapestry of our total life experience.
Here are some recent "minor miracles" which occurred to me quite recently. Not only did they awaken a deep sense of gratitude to the powers that be, but each taught me a needed lesson.
We were just pulling out from the curb, on our way to L. A., when my friend said, "Did you lock the door?" "No," I replied, "didn't you?" So we stopped and I ran back and sure enough the front door had been left totally unlocked. Then, as I started back to the car, I noticed that one of my bags was sitting on the front step. If I hadn't turned back I would never have realized this, and I would have been hard up for pajamas and underwear in L. A.
Now, if this had happened to someone else, I am sure I would have been a bit disdainful, looking on her as someone hopelessly scattered. It was a needed reminder that I was likewise a vastly imperfect creature.
The visit to L. A. was lovely. I got to see the new Getty museum and the Huntington as well. But on the second evening, something unexpected happened. I tripped on a curb and fell flat on my face. Now, besides being a bit "shook up," and springing my glasses frames, I suffered no broken bones or sprains or even major bruises. I felt incredibly lucky, since so many of my friends have met with broken bones and teeth and other serious injuries from similar falls. Two young men passing by stopped and with their help I got to my feet. I realized with a bit of shame that I am in fact rather wary of young males on the street at night in a strange town. In other words, I was thinking in stereotypes, when along came my good angels to show me my mistake.
The next morning, I was alone in the hotel room and decided to try a few chi gong practices after my shower. I had hardly started, when exquisite energies began to flow throughout my body. It was the last thing I expected, since my energies tend to be very quiescent these days. So, imagine, if you will, a half naked woman in her seventies experiencing ecstatic bliss for some ten or fifteen minutes in a hotel in downtown L. A. Somehow, I think that this unexpected visitation was connected to the fall--kundalini seems to appear frequently during certain times of excitement.
And, once again, I was reminded that kundalini keeps its own time table and chooses for itself when it will or will not appear. And, in addition, it made clear that it doesn't seem to matter how old you are or what shape you are in (literally), it can happen anywhere and anytime. This should give encouragement to everyone afraid the feelings will somehow disappear with age.
Then, there was the miracle of Nora. We have a new dog at our house, a border collie named "Nora Barnacle" ( after James Joyce's wife). Shortly after the L. A. trip, Nora escaped out a door which was accidentally left open. The housecleaner and I frantically searched the neighborhood, but in vain. (Neither of us runs very well, and Nora was out of sight in a minute.)
But, the story has a happy ending. A neighbor we had never met happened along in his pickup, opened the door, and she jumped in. Now I have always been a critical of this fellow. When he moved in he hauled in a total junk car and has left it parked outside his back door ever since. Further, he parks his pickup on the slender plot of grass out back, and as the rains continued this spring, the truck made deeper and deeper ruts in the ground. All of this seemed quite uncalled for to me. Who is this fellow, I wondered.
And thus this stranger, with his "questionable" ways, became the hero of the day, and once again, taught me something about making overly harsh judgments about others.
For me, this seems to be a lesson I have to learn again and again. How often, in the workshop, it is the person I least am drawn to, someone who may seem a little "weird" or off center, who does me a gracious favor or says something extremely kind. How embarassed and chagrined I then feel. When will I ever learn?
Here are some recent "minor miracles" which occurred to me quite recently. Not only did they awaken a deep sense of gratitude to the powers that be, but each taught me a needed lesson.
We were just pulling out from the curb, on our way to L. A., when my friend said, "Did you lock the door?" "No," I replied, "didn't you?" So we stopped and I ran back and sure enough the front door had been left totally unlocked. Then, as I started back to the car, I noticed that one of my bags was sitting on the front step. If I hadn't turned back I would never have realized this, and I would have been hard up for pajamas and underwear in L. A.
Now, if this had happened to someone else, I am sure I would have been a bit disdainful, looking on her as someone hopelessly scattered. It was a needed reminder that I was likewise a vastly imperfect creature.
The visit to L. A. was lovely. I got to see the new Getty museum and the Huntington as well. But on the second evening, something unexpected happened. I tripped on a curb and fell flat on my face. Now, besides being a bit "shook up," and springing my glasses frames, I suffered no broken bones or sprains or even major bruises. I felt incredibly lucky, since so many of my friends have met with broken bones and teeth and other serious injuries from similar falls. Two young men passing by stopped and with their help I got to my feet. I realized with a bit of shame that I am in fact rather wary of young males on the street at night in a strange town. In other words, I was thinking in stereotypes, when along came my good angels to show me my mistake.
The next morning, I was alone in the hotel room and decided to try a few chi gong practices after my shower. I had hardly started, when exquisite energies began to flow throughout my body. It was the last thing I expected, since my energies tend to be very quiescent these days. So, imagine, if you will, a half naked woman in her seventies experiencing ecstatic bliss for some ten or fifteen minutes in a hotel in downtown L. A. Somehow, I think that this unexpected visitation was connected to the fall--kundalini seems to appear frequently during certain times of excitement.
And, once again, I was reminded that kundalini keeps its own time table and chooses for itself when it will or will not appear. And, in addition, it made clear that it doesn't seem to matter how old you are or what shape you are in (literally), it can happen anywhere and anytime. This should give encouragement to everyone afraid the feelings will somehow disappear with age.
Then, there was the miracle of Nora. We have a new dog at our house, a border collie named "Nora Barnacle" ( after James Joyce's wife). Shortly after the L. A. trip, Nora escaped out a door which was accidentally left open. The housecleaner and I frantically searched the neighborhood, but in vain. (Neither of us runs very well, and Nora was out of sight in a minute.)
But, the story has a happy ending. A neighbor we had never met happened along in his pickup, opened the door, and she jumped in. Now I have always been a critical of this fellow. When he moved in he hauled in a total junk car and has left it parked outside his back door ever since. Further, he parks his pickup on the slender plot of grass out back, and as the rains continued this spring, the truck made deeper and deeper ruts in the ground. All of this seemed quite uncalled for to me. Who is this fellow, I wondered.
And thus this stranger, with his "questionable" ways, became the hero of the day, and once again, taught me something about making overly harsh judgments about others.
For me, this seems to be a lesson I have to learn again and again. How often, in the workshop, it is the person I least am drawn to, someone who may seem a little "weird" or off center, who does me a gracious favor or says something extremely kind. How embarassed and chagrined I then feel. When will I ever learn?
