yes this is what I'm thinking

After skating for years on good genes, good habits, and yogic lifestyle, gravity is finally taking its toll. My turban does help a bit to hold everything in place, but realistically I can only tie my turban so many times in a day. All those who dye their hair, get their faces pulled tight, and spend thousands clinging to whatever remnants of youthful appearance they can... Really, I am not that vain. It’s a battle I refuse to wage, and a process I can fully accept, this drooping, wrinkling, graying thing.... later on, when I am actually old. However, for now, no harm done putting a few things back where they belong. Don’t you think?

A Day in the Bay

Thirteen. That’s the number school-free days of my Spring break. I thought it would be great for Gurujodha and me to get away for a weekend… a weekend entirely free of internet, research papers, textbooks, and hours in front of my computer screen. So I planned a short overnighter to Morro Bay. I’ve driven past Morro Bay on the 101 and 1 highways, and mainly remembered it for the huge domed rock jutting out of the water in the bay. I later learned that this “rock” is actually the remains of a volcanic plume from over 20 million years ago, and is one of nine such plumes (called the “Nine Sisters”) in the San Luis Obispo area. The word “Morro” actually has something to do with turbans! When Juan Cabrillo first spotted the rocky pillar in 1542, it reminded him of the turban worn by the Moors. He named the rock “El Moro.” But, that’s history.

So, back to my story… After a lot of internet searching I settled on a spot for us to stay, the Inn at Morro Bay. It was right next to a state park and bird reserve, and also was nestled on the bay, south of the rock. This seemed like it would be a quiet spot, and a good starting point for nature walks. That was really the extent of my planning.  We’d really just have a little over 24 hours anyway and I figured we’d just go with the flow, take a few walks, enjoy a few local eateries, and perhaps find some kind of entertainment. Gurujodha is a huge fan of jazz (I also very much enjoy). I’d hoped to surprise him with a live performance somewhere in town. There was something at a nightclub in San Luis Obispo (about 15 minutes away), but we are not quite up for the nightclub scene.

Anyway, we started off with a trip to the car wash, and left Bakersfield around 9:15 AM on Saturday for our 140 mile road trip, first heading north on the 5. Driving west on Hwy 46 it appeared as though someone had splashed vats of primary yellow, vivid orange, and lavender water colors all over the otherwise green rolling hills…  Fiddlenecks, California poppies, and lupine flashed their colors with utter lack of modesty, literally everywhere! By chance, our trip was during the few most spectacular wildflower spotting weeks of the year. Between my oohs and aahs I managed to take some photos through our already bug-spotted windshield.

Finally arriving at the Inn around noon, we got an early check in, which really just meant bringing our few pieces of luggage into our room (from the balcony we could see the bay). It was small, but clean, a very comfy King bed, and a recently renovated bathroom with a beautiful black slate floor, new pedestal sink, and slate tiled shower. The lush grounds are meticulously maintained with lovely gardens, flowers, towering eucalyptus trees, surrounding all the buildings. Across the street is the 18-hole championship Morro Bay golf course. Quiet. Peaceful.  Stunningly scenic. So far, so good!

Hungry, we drove back into town where we enjoyed a tasty Thai meal. Then we took a stroll, checking out a few great antique stores, chatting with the locals, and then headed down to the beach and the Embarcadero.

I had rather fancied the idea that we might go kayaking in the estuary that runs along much of the bay, created by waters from the Chorro and Los Osos Creeks and protected from ocean waves  by a long sand spit.

When we walked out to the end of the pier where we could really feel the ocean breeze (it was wind) and see kayakers out there struggling in the choppy water I agreed with my husband that it was probably more fun to watch, which we did for a few minutes.

Then we continued on our walk down the embarcadero to check out all the touristy shops there. I noted a restaurant called Ciao Bella Trattoria and for some reason this instantly brought to my mind a pasta dish I had once enjoyed in La Spezia, Italy, about 25 years ago, and I said to GK, “I’ll bet that this place has a great pasta dish with porcini mushrooms, just like I had at a seafood restaurant in Italy!” He laughed (and probably rolled his eyes), saying something like, “Oh yea, we’ll have to come here for dinner,” and we just kept walking, and stopped in a number of shops, the usual tourist stuff, bought a little pink T-shirt for Cassie… we got to the end of shops and turned around and visited shops on the other side of the street on our way back.

When we got to Ciao Bella, GK said, “Siri Ved, here’s your restaurant.” And I said, “Oh yea! I’ve gotta check the  menu!” And I ran inside while he waited, and can you believe it? Posted right there on the wall was their menu, and what was there? “Rigatoni al Tre Funghi,” rigatoni pasta with porcini, portabella, and crimini mushrooms in a pink sauce with truffles. I laughed and called out to GK, “Am I a food psychic or what!?” We decided then and there we would return later on for dinner.

After a lovely snooze in our hotel we headed back out around 6:30 PM and arrived at the restaurant. Jazz music wafted down the stairs as we climbed up to the trattoria. Can you believe? It was Toty Viola, an amazing jazz guitarist, doing a wine country tour, playing this one night only, at Ciao Bella. We were seated a few tables away, with an expansive view of the bay, at sunset, sipping Pellegrini with lime… was this romantic? So totally yes.

I already knew what I was ordering, Rigatoni al Tre Funghi and a primavera salad with goat cheese. GK got his usual angel hair pomodoro and an arugula salad with shaved Parmesan-asiago. Let me just say, my pasta was amazing! Perfectly cooked, the sauce simply luscious, with lots of porcinis, which give so much flavor. If this was take-out at home, I would have licked my pasta bowl. I don’t know if it tasted just like the dish in Italy. That was 25 years ago. But the memory of this one will far surpass the old. We sat for over two hours, enjoying our meal, the music, each other, the peacefulness of the sun sinking in the sea, boats passing by, the perfection of the time and place…

Gurujodha went over and talked to Toty for a few minutes (that’s how we found out who he was). I love how GK will go up and strike a conversation with anyone, from movie stars to salesclerks, and make a connection. We ended with some decaf and shared a piece of irresistible Italian cheese cake.

We left Ciao Bella close to 9 PM and walked some of our meal off, strolling the embarcadero again, and then came back to the Inn. I slept in till after 8:30 AM and woke just in time to join GK in a morning yoga set.

We loaded up our few things and headed to San Luis Obispo for breakfast at the Big Sky Café, a restaurant that offers amazing meals prepared with locally grown organic produce. I had “New Mexican” style posole with killer cornbread and scrambled tofu (it was tasty, but I don’t think they’ve ever been to New Mexico…. The sauce was all tomatoes – a big no no – and next to no red chile). Gurujodha ordered a tall stack of wholegrain pancakes with cranberries and orange zest and some roasted herbed potatoes… He saved this location on his iphone, and I on my GPS handheld. What a find! Then we explored downtown SLO for a half hour before we headed home, a return drive through the beautiful green, orange, yellow and purple hills that divide the Central Coast and Central Valley.

Tomorrow? Back to work and back to school.

Thank you God, for everything. 

Just one of those days

When I write I always have an editor on in my head. The editor is the eyes and ears of everyone I know and I don't know who could possibly read it and judge me. I know it's ridiculous. But that's the deal. I've got issues. There are probably only about three people who ever read this anyway.

I believe that we as a species are generally ruled by our beliefs. Ha! We all have underlying beliefs, consciously or not. that affect everything we do, think, how we react. For instance, I have an underlying belief that I am completely unlovable, that it is literally impossible for anyone to love me. On top of that, I also have an underlying belief that all men are incapable of loving, not just me, but anybody. How's that for some issues? A perfect set up for misery.... not only am I unlovable, but even if I was, no man could ever love me, because all men suck at love. These beliefs have provided a whole bus load of opportunity for failed relationships and undermined happiness.

But these are beliefs. These are not what I know.  Because when I rise above my DNA and step outside of those beliefs and see a broader view, I know they are false and based somewhere in the long ago past on the the perceptions of a three-year-old who was trying to make sense out of her world. And, I do know love and I do know I am loved, and love definitely is. But, I am entirely too much in my head. This proves it.

Anyway, that's about as deep as I am going to get tonight!

One Step at at Time

Amputees come to my office every day.  Below knee, above knee, below elbow, above elbow, breasts, toes, feet…. Diabetics, veterans who lost limbs serving our country, breast cancer survivors, accident victims, and God knows all the ways good, everyday, folks end up minus a body part… Maybe they are coming in for a BK adjustment, a new bionic arm, or to pick up a few prosthetic socks. After a while some feel so part of the “family” here that they just walk right back to the staff room and help themselves to a cup of coffee.

The greatest days here are when a new amputee walks for the first time on her/his new leg. It’s like they have life again. I’ll never forget the look on a local police officer’s face the day he first tried out a new leg designed for high impact, heavy duty use. He ran across our walk room, and it wasn’t the running that was amazing, it was the smile on his face that literally filled every corner of the building. Some months later, this handsome man in his late 30s met all the physical requirements to be a fully active police officer, without any restrictions… saved from the fate of a desk job for the rest of his working years. 

The harder days are ones like today. A young woman came in, pushing her husband in a wheelchair. I am not sure what happened to him. I heard the words “burn victim,” which explained the fingerless gloves on his hands, hands that were missing most, if not all, of their fingers. His right leg, above knee and down, was also missing. Both their faces still bore the strain, grief, and shock, of everything that they have gone through, and he has suffered, since the terrifying moment that transformed their lives forever.

The great thing is they will get through this. He will walk, even run, again. Someday when he becomes a dad, he’ll be able to run and play with his kids. He will have hands to lift and hold his babies close to his heart. The face that is now drawn, grieving, and frightened, will again shine with light and he will again feel joy. His life will be transformed again.

Honest to God, I don’t always love all the things my job entails, but I do love what we do here, and that gives purpose to everything else.

Through the eyes of a child

I was thinking today about how I have always had an underlying belief that somehow the amount of gifts one receives has something to do with how much one is loved. I know that this is a perception and not a reality. Like many perceptions that many of us "adults" operate on, it comes from somewhere, and probably from something that happened many years ago. I am thus reminded of this short story I wrote a few years ago, about Christmas morning when I was three or four years old.

It was Christmas Day, the first one I remember.

The first thing I heard that morning was my big sisters squealing in my ear, “Wake up! Corinne, Wake up! Santa came! Santa came!” I followed them into the living room rubbing my eyes with my hands, adjusting to the early morning light. And then I saw the Christmas tree, all lit up like the night before, but with presents piled everywhere around. Carol and Nancy were first to their stockings hung on the mantel, and I could see all the candies and little toy surprises come pouring out and their faces so lit up with big smiles. Carol got mine down and handed it to me. It felt heavy and round. I turned the stocking upside down, in complete wonder about what could be in there!

And then a large onion tumbled onto the floor. I stared at that onion trying to comprehend that it was there and there weren’t any candies or toys at all, and all I felt was a terrifying crack in the world... We three girls in our flannel pajamas with happy little Santas, Nancy Fancy Pantsy always with ruffles…  The Christmas tree still sparkled with silver tinsel and lights, all decorated with twirly ornaments and the colored paper chains we had made with Mommy. Baby Jesus was in the manger with all the animals and angels and Mary and Joseph standing in the hay...

And somehow out from them and out from the walls of the living room that I knew, out through the windows with drapes flying, the onion and I were hurled through space, to some place else far far far away, where there was nobody else. My eyes looked for my mommy’s, hoping for some words that would bring me back to where things were right. She stood, holding my baby brother in her arms, her slender face surrounded by pink plastic curlers, and she explained, “Santa gave you an onion because you still suck your thumb.”

I was struck with disbelief, so much so I didn’t cry, I didn’t ask why, because what it all really meant I didn’t understand and it was too much to try to understand. She didn’t say anything else about the onion. I suppose my lesson was learned. Then we all started opening presents and dolls, toys, and games… and even though it seemed like I was back, nothing was ever the same again.

Oneness

Tomorrow is the beginning of the New Year. This is the first New Year's Eve I've ever spent alone. I got off work early, came home, plopped myself on the couch, and spent the afternoon and evening eating and watching TV... Ellen, Oprah, the news, Entertainment Tonight, Bones, and I don't know what else. Too much TV. I was feeling a little depressed about being alone. I ate an entire plate of homemade nachos first thing. Later I heated up a Trader Joe's frozen Paneer Tikaa Masala (fair), and then later downed a hunk of ciabatta spread with butter and some fried Tofurky Italian sausage (soy, for those not in the know... it's really very good). All comfort foods, blobbing out in front of the TV.

The highlight of all this was a Skype video call with Saki & Kris, and my granddaughter Cassie. I had been so immersed in feeling sorry for myself I'd completely forgotten today was her first birthday (I do have a bit of an excuse... we are all flying out in a couple weeks to celebrate and I have had that date so much in my head I lost track of the present). I can hardly believe though, even with that wonderful excuse, that I forgot her birthday. It just shows how asleep my brain is; as though I had turned myself off.

Finally I turned off the TV. It was around 9 PM and I remembered I'm driving to L.A. tomorrow and am going to play in the rainsabai kirtan late tomorrow night... so I had better figure out what I'm going to play and practice.

The last shabd I went through was Maanas kee Jaat Sabeh, from the Akal Ustat of Guru Gobind Singh Ji. Such a completely universal truth contained in this shabd and I'm sort of taking it as my hukam for the New Year.

I felt energized after playing, and remembered a day about 20 years ago, when I led this shabd at the Santa Ana gurdwara. The Siri Singh Sahib was there along with about 20 others from L.A. Out of all the times I've played this shabd, that was the epitome. It a perfect moment in time. The energy was amazing, my voice didn't crack, and Oneness was experienced.

The words "Ek Ong Kar" are often translated as "There is One Creator who Created the Creation." These were the first three words spoken by Guru Nanak when he stepped out of the river (literally "One Creator Creation"). He had disappeared into the river three days earlier, and when he emerged he was in an absolute state of bliss and realization. In the ecstasy of that realization, his first three words were "Ek Ong Kar." It seems to me, when I meditate on these words and imagine the experience of realization that he had in meditation... emerging from that he would be saying "God is One!! We are One!!" which is significantly different than the rather boring statement, "There is one God who created everything." That statement also implies separation, that God is some entity outside of us, outside of all that is.

In other words, I think we could use a better translation... God is ONE! Creator and Creation are ONE!

And that brings me to the translation of "Maanas Kee Jaat Sabeh..." the whole entire shabd. Try reading this aloud and let the words soak into your being...

Some are clean-shaven, some become renunciates and yogis.
I recognize all as One.

God Almighty, the Doer, who gives food, is merciful.
There is no other than Him. He doesn't make any mistake.
Do service to the One and only One.
Everyone's transparent Guru is One.
He has one face; know in all there is One Light.

The gurdwara and mosque are the same.
Some do puja and nivaj [various religious practices]
All people try to impress their way on others.

Prophets, super prophets, super super prophets, those of heaven, Mohammedans, those of all different countries and ways of dress try to impress their way on others.

Similar eyes, similar ears, similar bodies, similar speech: the dust, air, fire and water will mix together.

God is formless. The Puranas and Koran are the same; all forms are the same. All are made as One.

Just as some flames are formed and flames are different, but the fire is one when mixed.

Just as in one dust there are many particles; when at rest they are mixed into the same one.

Just as from one sea there are many different waves and there are small wrinkles on the water... when waves dive down it is called water.

Similarly, the world forms many forms; the invisible and seen are manifested. That from which all are sprung, into That all will again merge.

So many amphibians and fish swallow each other.
So many tortoises manifest, sprout wings, and fly.
So many birds fly in the sky that eat each other, digest, and die.

All of those in water, land and sky were made by the Lord of Death
and will be eaten by the Lord of Death.

Just as light vanishes into darkness and again the darkness merges into light --
That from which all emerges, into That all vanishes again.

Well, I've got about 5 minutes left of 2009 and this is my last post of the year.

May 2010 be a year where we drop fear, anger, doubt, and old destructive patterns. May it exceed 2009 in every wonderful way, and may we realize our true potentials and let them fully blossom. May we know ONENESS, may we SERVE, may we be GRATEFUL for every moment of this beautiful life and live them all fully. May we be GIVERS. May we speak from our HEARTS and LIVE COMPASSIONATELY. May we enjoy our loving relationships and nurture new ones. And may all insomniacs enjoy restful sleep.

Happy New Year!

This is not writer's block

I just don't feel like writing, and feel like I have nothing to say, or whatever I have to say isn't interesting enough to write about, or it's nobody's business but mine.

Where is my muse???