The Bright Path

Some things don't change

2011-04-10T02:02:00.000-07:00

April has not failed to live up to expectations, I am once again uprooted in this month.

Returning Down Under

2011-04-10T01:53:00.000-07:00

After 2 months of living here, it is time to leave Singapore and return to Sydney for 8 months. I am surprised that I am feeling forlorn about this, it has only been 2 months but I’ve actually met some lovely people here. There is a girl at the tea house and restaurant that serves me free dessert samples and stands by the table often to speak about her dreams for her life. In return I tell her about yoga and places I have lived. She moves like a gentle breeze and her smile leaves traces of sadness.

At the Swiss chocolatier is another girl that wears spectacles and loves nothing more than seeing me recoil in pleasure from every bite of chocolate she offers me. When I told her yesterday that I was leaving, she seemed almost ready to shed a tear.

In a similar way, I have felt the emotions weigh on me at the hotel as I bid farewell to the staff at the Gravity Bar where I have spent some evenings recuperating over some tea and snacks after a stressful day at the client.

A few days ago I informed the staff at the yoga studio that I was suspending my membership until the end of the year and the lady that attended to me told me I had a peaceful aura about me that was appreciated by the staff members. I had not ever seen this woman before so it took me by surprise. I contemplated what she said, I knew it was not easy for her to say speak this openly from the way her hand shook as we filled out the membership suspension form.

In the yoga sutras, I have read recently about the first two cornerstones of yoga. In the first cornerstone we seek to suspend all negative thought patterns through deep meditation to travel through the five paths we all pass through during our spiritual journey: we see death, we see people suffer, we dream of saving them; and the journey ends when we change, finally, into a sacred being who actually has the power to save them. The second cornerstone upon which the house of yoga is built is “the Way” – sadhana. The state of nirvana is akin to stopping all negative thought patterns. And then comes “the Way” which means “to reach” angels through steady daily practice. We reach them first by contacting them, and secondly by becoming them.

I read these words the day after what she said to me and then I thought about what Beate had said in Switzerland when I had praised the weather, she spoke of a saying in Germany that alluded to this being a gift to an angel. I hardly ever consider myself as such, I know far too well of my shortcomings and I have no desire to be ‘an angel’ and I am far from convinced that I have any ability to ‘save’ anyone but it is interesting to consider nonetheless.

The author of the yoga sutra commentary that I am reading is Geshe Michael Roach. This is one of those rare cases where the man precedes the book in my awareness. I had not heard of this man until I saw a notice about a talk he would be giving at Pure yoga (the yoga studio I have been attending here), the talk was called “Love and the Yoga Sutras”. I attended the workshop and observed a man in monk robes looking somewhat bedraggled, but one who seemed to command a lot of respect and admiration. The message in his talk was simple but profound: whatever you wish for yourself, create it first for others. Focus on creation, because you are the source of your experience. You get in return what you sow.

I researched the man and learned that he obtained the title of Geshe which is a sort of Masters in Buddhism and it must be not an easy feat (he is the first American to obtain this title). Once he obtained this, he left Tibet under the instruction of his teacher and started a diamond business in New York that prospered greatly under the principles of “The Diamond Cutter” an ancient treatise based on a talk given by Buddha. Then he sold it and returned to the simple monastic life.

Observing the reactions of the people to the news that I am leaving reminds me of when I left California, it was a revealing time for me because it showed me that I have the ability to leave an impression on people. Just as I write these words I glance back at the paragraph preceding this one in which I state how I have no ability to ‘save’ anyone. Maybe it really just means to leave the right impression on someone and not necessarily don a cap and mask as some sort of crusader.

Switzerland

2011-01-16T01:52:00.000-08:00

It has been a dream the past week. 3 weeks ago I didn't even know I was going to be in Europe but here I am now sitting on a train at the station in Basel, Switzerland on the ICE line enroute to Frankfurt in Germany from Bern. At Frankfurt I shall meet with my friends Jonas and Stefanie for dinner. Tomorrow I will catch the flight to Singapore.

Basel is a special place to be for me. Roger Federer was born here. I confess that what excited me most about crossing the border into Switzerland was visiting Basel - the city that Roger Federer was born and where he developed his tennis game as a child. It becomes my desire to drink a glass of water from this place, perhaps it could imbue me with miraculous tennis playing abilities. I might even bring some back to spike my sports drink on the tennis court just to gain an advantage.

Well, I've not the time to explore Basel on the way back to Germany from Bern, Jonas and Stefanie are waiting and it is her birthday today.

The week began in Konstanz. I had landed in Frankfurt on Monday morning at 6am after boarding a flight from Malaysia. The journey began officially on Friday in Sydney where I am still based but I had stopped in Penang, Malaysia for the weekend to attend my cousin's wedding reception. I had been fighting a mild sore throat for the past week but it had turned into the nastiest throat condition of my life in Penang. I had to see a doctor near the hotel to acquire some overpriced medication to bring it under control. Luckily it worked very well, I was already feeling it abate on the flight to Frankfurt.

Luck seems to be a constant companion these days. Take for instance the glorious weather I've experienced here in Switzerland that began on Saturday morning. Typically the weather this time of year is overcast at best. The entire week in Konstanz, I had not see the sun. But it arrived in grand fashion at the right time and for the entire duration of this weekend. And now the sun has just retired behind the mountains, proud of its accomplishments for the past two days, leaving behind a jagged rust colored glow on the horizon.

"In Germany we have a saying, 'When an angel visits, the heavens smile with good weather'", Beate said to me this morning as we sat at her kitchen table. I spent last night at Rainer and Beate's home in Vitznau by lake Luzerne. I watched the sun rise over the snowy mountains fringing the lake through the window over a table of the finest cheese, home made jam, bread and muesli I had ever experienced. Smoke could be seen rising languidly from the chimneys of the homes nearby. The homes afforded grand views of the breathtaking scenery with big glass doors/windows that were installed without regard to security. It is safe in this part of the world.

Coming to Switzerland and Konstanz has allowed me to indulge in the world's best of the foods that I enjoy regularly. The cheese, chocolate, bread, muesli AND wine here are outstanding. Jonas stops the car at a bakery in the town that he grew up at as a boy, he invites me to try the pretzel from here and I do. I am not fond of pretzels but I find myself devouring it and wanting more. Stefanie tells me that THIS is the proper way to make pretzels. It must be slightly hard on the outside like a brittle shell and soft and moist on the inside. The legend goes that a baker's apprentice serendipitously invented the pretzel when he mistakenly used a cleaning solution on a batch of bread awaiting the oven.

There is something about eating a food at the point of origin that cannot be replicated. Wine drinkers often complain that the wine doesnt taste the same if you transport it despite your most ardent efforts to do it, and I believe it. There is a reaction with certain properties of the air that rounds out the food or beverage. Speaking of which, the air here is the finest I have breathed for the past 20 years at least. The Swiss take great care to preserve their environment, for instance, 95% of the trains that run through here are zero-emission. The lakes that dot the region serve as heat capacitors and serve to moderate the climate except for the higher regions of the Alps. This is why many Europeans seek to retire here, it is the most coveted land to do so for the clean air and agreeable climate. Yet, the exorbitant cost of living here is prohibitive even to the people that earn Euros. Yesterday driving from Vitznau to Luzerne, I had passed through a village on the shores that apparently had the most billionaires per capita in Europe. Yet, it looked so unassuming. Many of the world's wealthiest come to Switzerland to build their homes because you can actually negotiate your own tax rates here. Michael Schumacher for instance did so. The Swiss have a knack for drawing wealth. Switzerland was the only neutral country that was respected by the Nazis in WWII, it is believed to be because Hitler had vast investments of wealth there that exist to this day. Driving past Zurich airport you can marvel at the number of private jets that are parked in front. And walking around Luzerne, I had passed 3 Ferraris in a matter of minutes.

But the highlight of Switzerland - and by highlight I mean the definitive moment of being awed into stillness - was standing in front of the flat on Kramgasse St. that was rented by Einstein from 1903 to 1905. It was on the second floor of this restored building (now a museum of sorts) that he wrote his most important papers in a matter of weeks that revolutionized physics. This street itself has so much character, it is a long promenade of cobbled streets and fountains, trams run regularly through it. This section of Bern has been entered in the list of UNESCO Cultural World Heritage Sites. I have felt this affinity for Einsten since reading his biography a few months ago - Einstein: His Life and Universe. I was drawn to it both out of curiosity for the man as well as his approach to unraveling the mysteries of the universe. How much of his view of life and our place in it overlapped my own? I suppose quite a bit, because by the end of the book I felt a great fondness and admiration for him. And so standing being there and gazing at the photo cutout of himself as a 20 something year old looking out of the window above felt somewhat like a religious experience. Unfortunately on this day the exhibit is closed. I gaze through the windowed door at the narrow steps leading upstairs and I feel that if I could only walk through this doorway I transcend time and meet the man

.

Einstein's home, back then

And now... (see his face in the window)

Bern

Death and Ajmer

2010-10-31T03:22:00.000-07:00

There are 3 primary deities of the multitude in the Hindu religion - Brahmā the creator, Vishnu the maintainer or preserver, and Śhiva the destroyer or transformer. Together they are known as the Trimurti and describe the unending cycle of life. Today we temple we visited on the hill is described by our guide as the only one in the world devoted to Brahma. But it is perhaps Shiva's stamp that we seem imprinted with on this day.

Departing Pushkar for Jaipur we stop for lunch at a restaurant with a walled garden courtyard, on the way to the temple and lake earlier we had observed acrowd gathered a little ways down the road outside. The presence of a police vehicle compels our driver to walk over and investigate the commotion. Upon his return we discover that the locals had found a body loosely wrapped in cloth and abandoned overnight by the road. It was obviously a murder victim since it had been burnt and assaulted, it was already quite decomposed. It is a sobering find, here only on my second day in India, to remind us of an current of savagery that seems to still run through segments of Indian society. From what I observe, violence is doesn't seem to be a far option to settle disputes or insults. But it also this unbridledness that connects with a part of me, that strikes me as authentic and bespeaks of a level of passion existing within me but subdued by my own concept of who I ought to be, a concept that has been delivered to me largely in part by my upbringing. It has been my task the past few years to familiarize myself with this passion, albeit not in the form of violence.

Later in the day we come to the crossroads of Ajmer, Pushkar and Jaipur. The driver stops and asks us for our confirmation to proceed to Ajmer. If we goto Ajmer we will need to walk quite a distance to visit the mosque, it is an important mosque for muslims. He cannot bring the car up the narrow streets through the crowded markets. It is quite far. I ask if the walk is pleasant and his response is not encouraging. At this point the consensus seems to be to head back to Jaipur and as the vehicle starts back in that direction I override the driver to take us to Ajmer instead. We've come all this way to India, it seemed wrong to find refuge in our hotel and pass up on Ajmer when the opportunity was upon us.

The visit to Ajmer turns out to be the best part of the day, we embark on a thrilling tuk tuk ride through the chaotic tight streets of the town. It is our first such ride. My father Tom and I share the small noisy cabin and the driver masterfully maneuvers the sputtering and screaming contraption, squeezing us past flashes of people steppingaside. After 10 minutes, the tuk tuk stops and we are escorted by the driver through more uneven corridors and steps to an crowded bazaar that extends in a whirl of sights, smells and sounds. The man gives us directions to themosque and how to return to where we had began the tuk tuk ride, my mother and our guide/driver were awaiting us there. We walk through the bazaar trying to appear as nonchalant as possible while drawing the curious attention of the locals, they obviously do not get many foreign visitors. The usual touts calling out for our business are missing, and the beggars we find here ignore us entirely, they only beg from the locals. The entire 45 minutes is a kaleidoscopic feast for the senses. This is a pure unadulterated India and I feel privileged.

Snakes and Lakes

2010-10-31T02:59:00.000-07:00

Today I experienced a puja by the holy lake in Pushkar. The faithful devotees bathe by the water's edge, flowers drift on the still surface. Flocks of birds lift into the sky periodically then settle again. I exchange the flower given to me by the holy priest in the Brahman temple on the hill for a plate of offerings. In it was spices, candy and flowers. I am led to one of the 52 ghats that descend to the water, seated here on these steps a man leads me through the ritual in exchange for a donation to the Brahmin priests. The prayer is mostly in Sanskrit and I struggle to repeat the words correctly,a couple of symbolic objects are placed into my palm and removed. One of them is a coconut. When the prayer is over I place the offerings in the water.

Then begins the extortion.

The 'holy' man asks us how much we intend to donate to the brahmins. The standard fee is about USD$60. We balk at this. Tension arises and the mood is ruptured. We part with $20 instead. Walking away I do not allow the blessings and state of grace created by the ritual to evaporate. We are free to choose our experience and I decide it serves me better to believe in the grace of this holy man and the sanctity of what I had done.

Pushkar's Holy Lake

The man with the turban sitting on the ground opens his basket as I walk by and I recoil instinctively when I see the cobra inside. He invites me to take a picture with the snake for a fee. The guide assures me that it is safe and though I believe them both, there is still an primitive overriding survival instinct that intervenes. The limbic portion of my brain immobilizes me though the intellect says it's probably ok.

I cannot pass this up, it is a unique opportunity to experience a dangerous elusive creature that bears the dubious reputation in general as a symbol of death. I step forward and hear a gasp, then words of dissuasion from my mother. But this is important to me, to conquer this fear. I know that there is worth in it for me, it is a sort of deposit into the warrior account to touch this cobra against my instincts. I settle cautiously in a crouch beside the man, fully aware that my life is tenuously attached by a string of trust to this strangers words. Touching it's leathery skin, I feel the power and elegance in this snake, a deadly gracefulness that is compellingly beautiful. I feel a rush.

"To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom." - Bertrand Russell

Jaipur Day 2

2010-10-31T02:57:00.000-07:00

I am in India. It has been only two days here but already I feel I have left my previous self far behind. The rules here are absolutely different. If I stayed here long enough I would forget the person that I was. This land is wilder than imagined, the people seem unrestrained and unpredictable. There is a bond here that exists through everything. It runs through man and beast, the dead and the living. Nothing is rejected, nothing seems intolerable. The human condition here stretches far across the spectrum, today I saw how much suffering we can endure on a day to day basis. There was a man lying in the middle of the road in a marketplace, his body was contorted in an extreme way, I could not fathom how he even managed to be there on his own. So much destitution but also brotherhood. The suffering burns away the ego and unites. A homeless man sits with his wife by the road, she is not to eat today but rather to fast for her husbands well-being. A sadhu walks by them and the man offers him one of his two rotis. I have little but it is enough for us. Let us not judge each other. Take from my plate.

In this place I feel bloated by what appears as overconsumption in comparison to the stringent lives of the Indian people where nothing seems to be wasted. In every photo I look grotesquely alien and out of place, I want to connect with this current that runs through this ancient land and its people. This bond seems inaccessible. On the surface it may seem that I have more than enough but truly I am the hungry one. Let me feel this unity. I want to have a real emotional connection, I have been starved of a real expression. Authenticity, Let me feel, I want to climb out of my shell. Let me touch you. Let me sit beside you as you pray for deliverance. I too must learn this prayer. Let us pray together, my need is desperate. My hunger is older and deeper. Fill my cup. Brother.

I am brought within the jostling van by a tap on my leg. "Look at this truck" my mother tells me. Looking out the window I see that it is packed with people, many are children. They sit on the back, there are men and a woman that holds her shawl to conceal her face. The children begin to smile and wave, I do the same then there are many flashes of smiles and even the woman reveals her face, it too is aglow. I feel my outstretched hand has been handed a treasure. In this particular span of time and space now opens a window of which the light of Truth shines through.

More Astrological Predictions

2010-10-30T23:46:00.000-07:00

"This one CEO!! Definitely", the bald bespectacled man in the safari suit with the intense gaze cries as he shakes his finger at me. He pulls out his business card and tosses it on the glass table housing his semi-precious stones for effect. When I had first walked into his small office with my parents it was his first prediction, and now as our 20 minute astrology session was ending he chose to reemphasize it. We had requested to visit his man whom is renowned to discern a person's future. We are still within the compounds of the City Palace among a section reserved for selling local handicrafts. We were further encouraged to meet this man upon learning that he never accepted a payment for his readings. Now having had our readings we understand why he is so accommodating, it is because he typically recommends a purchase of certain stones from his desk as remedies to ward off ill fortune. My mother had one such recommendation which she turned down. To the man's credit he didn't waver in his hospitality nor did he accept our offer for a charitable donation.

I listen intently to his readings and for the most part he is able to quite accurately describe the personalities and life circumstances of my siblings and parents. My father is eager to learn if he will ever return to the workforce and what the nature of the work will be. The answer is yes and coincidentally the date given marks precisely one year from the date of my father's retirement which is when he intended to reassess his retirement decision anyways. For me, my only real question is if I will be married someday. The answer is yes, next year in fact. She will be a good woman and the relationship will endure. Hmm... the CEO part was difficult enough to buy but married next year? That's even more far fetched! However, this man is not the first person to look at me and to my astonishment tell me that they see a CEO in me. I simply have no ambition for such.

Gem Dealer and Astrologer extraordinaire

That night we visit the Amber Fort and take in a spectacular Sound and Light show narrated by Bollywood's king - Amitabh Bachchan. In the early days this impressive site was the capital of the Rajasthan kingdom until it was changed to Jaipur by a water shortage.

The show uses the panoramic view of the craggy walls of the fortress as the backdrop, it is a compelling view with a lake in the foreground and hills around us. As we sit on the benches, we are seduced by the vocals of the music and mesmerized by the colorful lighting effects that highlight features of the architecture and terrain. The show transports us to the early days of the Kachchwaha Rajput rulers of Rajasthan, reliving the legends and folklore.

Amber Fort in full lighting

Jaipur Day 1

2010-10-30T03:35:00.000-07:00

"Where are you from?", a teenage boy asks Tom as we wait outside Jaipur airport for our pre-arranged ride to our hotel. The young boys crowd around us immediately upon our appearance, they are taken by the sight of Tom. They seem enchanted by this tall American man who seems a cross between President George Bush and the actor Kevin Kline. Tom is quite bemused. "You seem to be like some sort of Messiah to the Indian people", I tell Tom. "If this car doesn't get here soon, you'll be hoisted on their shoulders and carried through town as the latest deity" I add.

The ride to the hotel on the dusty road brings us past camel riders, cattle, motorcylces, tuk tuks. I am stunned to view the level of poverty of the homeless families here who literally live their lives in plain view on the sidewalk. There is a child defecating on the sidewalk as her parents sit close by, a man sleeps awkwardly with no bedding whatsoever hemmed in the space between the sidewalk and the road. I have seen poverty many times before but never this abject. To my amusement I occasionally see men urinating against the walls publicly, this behavior is not confined to the homeless, it appears that this is socially acceptable.

Arriving at the hotel, we are pleasantly surprised by the stateliness of the old but refitted building. Though modest in size it is

quite befitting of its name - Umaid Mahal Heritage Castle. The imposing front door is about 20 feet tall with ornate artwork on the walls. I point to the hotel and say to my friend, "Tom, THIS is a hotel". We put our bags away and meet my parents in the breakfast hall downstairs. Introductions are made, I am glad that my parents who live in Malaysia since my father's retirement have the opportunity to meet Tom who lives in California; and it tickles me that we are doing so in Jaipur, India. We decide to book a driver arranged by the hotel for a full day tour beginning with the City Palace followed by Amber Palace fort.

The corridor of the Umaid Mahal Heritage Hotel in Jaipur

The tour at the City Palace takes about 2 and a half hours. It is actually a palace complex comprising of theChandra Mahal and Mubarak Mahal palaces and other buildings. There is an impressive textile museum containing many painstakingly fabricated and painted fabrics of incredibly delicateness. Some of the work required such an intense scrutiny that children were groomed on a special vegetable diet and put to the task until their eyes lost their nearsightedness over time. Most of the displays are garments of the royalty, some of them are outstandingly huge. The guide tells us they belonged to a Maharaja that was 7ft tall and over 4 ft wide; his name was Sawai Raja Madho Singh II and the cloth used for one particular garment was over 190 metres in length. Size doesn't matter when you're of blue blood, this king had 108 wives anyways. In a display I see a two piece garment called a jama and then beside it a drawstring pants called a pa-jama. Hmm... interesting to learn that the term pajama originates from India. Also originating from this region is the paisley design which was originally simply a imprint of the side of a closed fist. The other two museums are an arms and an arts museum, the arts museum has many historical paintings of incredibly fine artwork requiring a specialized brush designed so that only a single hair delivers the paint with each stroke. Some of the paintings, though not particularly large, take years to complete.

We consent to be ushered by our good guide to another separate building in which artists demonstrate this art and sell their paintings. We gather on the floor around an artist, he has a modest bowl with a variety of colored naturally occurring objects such as stones, tree resin, coal etc. He picks each one up, wets it then scratches a white slate with it. Each object leaves a distinct colored impression. Soon there is a rainbow of dazzling hues, from this he dabs his fine paintbrush and begins painting. He draws an elephant because it is the animal that represents this Rajasthan city of Jaipur, the horse represents Jodhpur and the camel represents Jaisalmer. He looks at me and asks my name. "Aaron, I wish you always happy days in your life.", he says as he writes these words on his simple drawing then hands it to me. My head tells me that this is a tactic to soften me to buy his paintings, but I allow it anyways knowing that this would be the ideal souvenior to add to my collection of worldly artifacts. But perhaps more so I am touched by his statement, I sure can use all the help I can get with regard to my happiness. Lately each moment of happiness seems so fragile and fleeting, the voice of criticism and judgment shuts the door on each ray of joy in a split second. I choose a painting of a camel on an old rice parchment, I don't even bother to bargain the price.

Delhi to Jaipur

2010-10-30T02:50:00.000-07:00

It is tough getting out of bed at 4am but I am stoked by the excitement of what lies ahead in India. Our flight leaves at about 630 and the airport is 40 minutes away.

On the way there is some uncertainty about which airport we need to go to, either the International or Domestic airport. This a domestic flight but the driver seems to think we need the International one so we drive there. There are armed guards manning a rickety road block at the airport, they tell us that we need the Domestic terminal and we divert as such. By the time we are dropped off we only have an hour till our flight leaves but we are prevented from entering the terminal building by armed security guards. Apparently in India you cannot enter the airport building without an itinerary or a ticket printed out with your name on it (if you have an e-ticket print the itinerary).

We are directed to the airline counter outside the terminal building to have this printed. The situation grows dire as we stand in line, but it gets much worse when we reach the counter and are told that we are at the WRONG terminal. We desperately scan the traffic for taxis but there are none since pickups are not allowed at this zone. An animated exchange between an Indian man and driver of a van 20 feet from us draws our attention, impulsively we try our luck. "Are you going to the international terminal?!", we ask. "Yes", he nods vigorously as he climbs into the van. They accepts us as passengers and urges us to hurry onboard. On the way we learn that this man who is a jewelry dealer has made the same error as us and he is on the same flight, it seems the locals are none the wiser.

We arrive again at the International terminal and once again we are prevented from entering the building by guards since we still don't have an itinerary. Jewelry guy slips inside with his, at least he knew that much. How can we get one printed?? The guard points to the end of the terminal,... from where we stand it looks like 5 miles away. We arrive there with just 30 minutes until departure and the attendant in the booth now has computer issues, he cannot print out an itinerary for us. He exits his booth with our passports leaving Tom and I staring at each other. "Have a nice trip!", I say after the person walking away with our IDs and Tom shrugs. To our relief he returns with boarding passes awhile later. Ok, we have boarding passes but our bags are not checked in and the flight leaves in 20 minutes. We haul our bags back to the guard at the terminal entrance which is 5 miles away... or so it seems. For some reason, we are denied entry at all the terminal entrances along the way, everyone really wants us to enter at the entrance that is furthest away. This must be some sort of conspiracy to make us miss the flight and have us collapse from the effort.

Inside the terminal we now are required to stand in line at the check-in counter. It seems pointless by this time but I still voice a plea to get to the front of the line, the folks seem to not understand except for an American lady who offers us to go ahead of her. I turn back to express my gratitude only to have some Indians fiendishly use this opportunity slip in ahead of me with their caravan of belongings. Great! However I don't get upset, I'm already resigned to come what may. To our surprise the saried lady at the check in counter accepts our baggage, the flight is delayed!!!

Once onboard the passenger next to me tells me, "I fly this flight regularly, this is the first time we are not leaving on time". I smile inside, somehow there was a knowing we were not going miss this flight.

Touching India

2010-10-29T02:46:00.000-07:00

It's been a crazy past few days managing my belongings between Singapore, Sydney and India but I've finally landed in Delhi, India at about 1030pm. As usual I try to get a sense of the vibe/energy that is characteristic to the region, on this occasion as the plane descends over India I feel as though I am floating into the outstretched palm of... an 'Ancient Knowing'. It feels as though there is a consciousness welcoming me to this ancient prayer soaked land, a place saturated with teachings where many Masters have treaded their way. It is a comforting feeling.

It doesn't take long before I realize the deduction of my personal space, I was prepared for this knowing that in India as with most other populous countries people tend to hem you in; but I've only been off the plane for 10 minutes and as I queue in the immigration line there is a man behind me breathing down my neck holding his phone as though we wants to share his text message conversation with me.

The plan is to meet up with Tom in Delhi, he checked into a hotel a couple of days ago and has already made a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. I have no plans to see the TM, I don't feel any urgency for such. Tom has arranged for a driver to meet me at the airport and I locate him easily by his sign with my name on it. It is a long drive and the roads are chocked with heavy traffic, not much can be seen, there doesn't seem to be enough lighting around Delhi and there is a thick haze in the air that obscures. I thought the haze in Malaysia was bad.

The driver eventually stops in the old section of Delhi. The poor lighting of the sodium vapor streetlamps cast a gloom around this dusty quiet section of shop lots, I cannot see anything resembling a hotel. I wonder if I am going to be slain here and have my baggage distributed to the handful of people milling about. A beggar is upon me even before I can offload my two bags from the trunk, I only have a few rupees in my pocket and I give them to him. Unsatisfied he continues to pester me as I am led by the driver to a narrow staircase, I brace myself for the standard of this 'hotel'. I'll be glad if what I encounter even qualifies for 2 stars at this point.

Fortunately, instead of a mugging assault I find a very modest hotel reception on the second level. And soon thereafter the bellhop leads me to the hotel room where a sleepy Tom answers the door. Tom seems to be in a poor shape, he recently had knee surgery and hasn't been getting outside much AND his back gave out a few days ago. He hobbles around the room. I ask him why he picked the saddest hotel in Delhi to which he replies "you can't expect much this is INDIA!". How much is this costing us a night? About US$120. How on earth did you find this hotel? From the Lonely Planet he replies. The Lonely Planet or the LOWLY Planet? I am glad that this is the only accommodation that I have left to Tom to arrange.

I ask Tom about his trip to the Taj Mahal and he says that when he got there it was closed. Closed? I never thought that the TM would have an off day but then he explained that there is a mosque inside and it was a Friday. Ah... Tom relays his experience with the taxi driver, on the way back from Agra they stopped at a gas station and he got down to stretch. The cab driver mumbled "something about a monkey man", and a few seconds later a man with a monkey showed up at which point the monkey jumped up on Tom. He pulls out a picture on his ipod touch and yes, there is a monkey on Tom's head and it looks like it is humping his head. I can't resist throwing a few jibes in, "you shouldn't let the monkey do that, don't you know that's how AIDS was started?". Ah yes, this is why I love Tom's company, there is always humor around the corner when he's around.

We don't spend too much time catching up, we only have 4 hours of sleep until we catch a 6am flight to Jaipur the next day.

Namaste Shiva Rea

2010-10-15T03:40:00.001-07:00

I've just moved into the Hilton hotel downtown on George St. I moved out yesterday from the apartment because soon I'll be heading to Malaysia for work before going onto India and then onto Singapore for work again. In other words, I don't see myself returning to Sydney until December; therefore, this is a small cost saving measure of the company I work for.

I have been enjoying various guided yoga CDs, they are convenient for my current lifestyle as I am frequently on the move. Shiva Rea, Ateeka and Ana Forrest are the 3 that I use most of the time. Sometimes instead of a guided practice I'll just light candles and incense, put on music and pull out my yoga book which I find very enlightening and work on poses from it.

I enjoy practicing these disparate Eastern physical paths of self-realization, Taichi and yoga, at the same period in my life. I am not an expert in either and I have just begun to experience this phenomenon of internal energy movement directed by the breath and mind. For most of my life I dismissed such notions of chi or prana as either mere novelty or figments of our physiology, but now as I delve deeper into this topic I feel somewhat shamed by my gross ignorance of such a fundamental aspect of our nature or rather ALL of nature. This clearing of energy lines or cultivation of life force has such a big impact our well being, it is a crime that it is not engendered in us from our youth.

Nevertheless, what the mind knows is not necessarily what the body is aligned with. Today's practice was difficult... I think I understand why; I'd not been practicing regularly the past week and when that happens, inertia and sloth set in. If it were not for the nagging pains from a slipped disc sustained many years ago I wonder if I'd have the discipline to persist with this practice. When I practice yoga correctly, I clear the imbalances that had contributed this injury and it also brings healing energy to it, along with many other added benefits. And so out of this long term suffering a key lesson towards realizing one's full potential is derived, a pearl of wisdom has resulted. It is said that the oyster produces the beautiful pearl in response to a persistent irritant such as a grain of sand. Referring to my back injury an irritant is an understatement but the metaphor of the pearl of wisdom is apt to convey that I understand now the important of circulating chi/prana completely throughout our body. The spot of the injury is the convenient target used repeatedly to refine the ability of my mind to move healing energy. When I do this properly, there is a sense of aliveness in the lower back by the end of the yoga session.

Today I turn to Shiva Rea to neutralize my indolence. Her CDs tend to have the best flow and her voice soothes me. Especially during Shavasana at the end of my practice when she recites a moving poem to "guide me downstream on my raft". With my mind resting in my heart, I hear these words from her that compliment the context of my life:

As the bee seeks nectar from all kinds of flowers,

seek teachings everywhere.

Like a deer that finds a quiet place to graze,

seek seclusion to digest all that you have gathered.

Like a mad one beyond all limits,

Go where you please and LIVE like a lion,

completely free from all fear.

Namaste.

The next time you leave

2010-10-13T00:52:00.000-07:00

Before you leave.

Indulge me this.

All I ask from you.

Is just for one breath.

Of, the air

that occupies the space

between your ear

and your shoulder.

And when I do so,

forgive me this trespass.

That surely, this breath

from the space closest to you

would lead my lips to brush your neck

as I tremble.

And now... PRAY

2010-10-12T04:14:00.000-07:00

This book is getting more interesting now that the author has reached India.

Until part II (India), I'd been a bit disappointed in the inanity of her tale in Italy centering on food. Food is not a passion for me. However I do admit I've rather enjoyed the experience of reading of her gastronomic adventures as I am myself sitting in the Italian Cafe Amici a couple of doors down from my apartment building. To hear the Italian being spoken in the cafe and partaking of the food as I read brings the story to life for me.

I like this quote she pulls of St. Augustine as she is speaking of the yogic path:

"Our whole business therefore in this life is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen.

Also from the book:

The classical Indian sages wrote that there are three factors which indicate whether a soul has been blessed with the highest and most auspicious luck in the universe:
To have been born a human being capable of conscious inquiry.
To have been born with-or to have developed- a yearning to understand the nature of the universe.
To have found a living spiritual master.

For the most part I am in agreement with her treatise on yoga and spirituality though I have doubts about her emphasis on meeting a living guru to catalyze one's spiritual awakening by mantravirya: "The potency of the enlightened consciousness."

Hubble humbles

2010-10-10T01:02:00.000-07:00

Ernie mentioned at yesterday's Taichi practice session that I ought to make time to take in the IMAX show at Darling Harbor entitled Hubble 3D. When the view from the Hubble telescope is cast on the largest IMAX screen in the world in 3D, "the sight of the universe will blow you away"

My old friend Vevek is visiting Sydney for business and I invited him to stay the weekend with me before he returns to Singapore. We both decide to take the short walk to the harbor from my apartment to investigate Ernie's recommendation.

The show does not disappoint except for the finiteness of its own reel. The ability of this powerful telescope to peer into the farthest reaches of outer space or zoom into the intimate depths of a single nebula is mind boggling. The overwhelming sight of the billions of galaxies extending for billions of light years in all directions makes you realize how utterly naive it is to believe we are alone in this Universe. On one hand, the magnitude of the controlled explosion lifting the shuttle into the heavens instills a strong sense of pride in the human race; while on the other hand the infiniteness and scale of everything beyond the atmosphere of our home planet quickly remind us of our humility. When it's over the crowd is speechless, one can sense that there has been an emotional impact. Some even are compelled to clap.

India itinerary

2010-10-10T00:34:00.000-07:00

After some refinements and a bit of drama with the travel agent who withdrew contact for a period, the new itinerary for India has at last firmed itself.

The Himalayas draw me to India with greater urgency than any other region. The initial plan for the yoga retreat and then trekking in Rishikesh would have been fulfilling in this regard. Well, there is no sense raging against the elements especially when the time to react is precious. The new plan is to postpone the trip as far as possible without conflicting with work assignments to accord us enough time for proper logistic arrangements. The upside to the new plan is that my friend Tom in California is now joining my parents and I.

In researching India the past couple of weeks it's become apparent that one will need several trips to achieve a fair overall perspective. The cultures, history, geography, customs, religions, they are vast and varied. The three regions of focus for this trip shall be:

(Start Oct 29th)

Rajasthan - Udaipur and Jaipur
Karnataka - Hampi-Vijayanagar
Kerala - Wayanad and Kochi

(End Nov 16th)

In particular, there is excitement to see at last the birthplace of my maternal grandfather in Kerala. His Fernandez lineage is the source of my Portuguese ancestry.

Apsaras

2010-10-08T00:59:00.000-07:00

I'm standing on the platform waiting for the train at Town Hall station amongst the morning rush hour crowd. My mind drifts as I gaze down the tunnel in anticipation of the arriving train. A girl steps next to me on my left, I throw a cursory glance and then a second later it strikes me that this girl resembles the Indian girl that had been occupying my thoughts since the weekend; in fact, the resemblance is so strong that a state of bewilderment overcomes me. I am trying to get a proper look at her face, she is literally standing next to me but she too is facing down the tunnel so I cannot see her face again. In this moment the train arrives and it is unusually packed, the crowd condenses around us in anticipation of boarding the train. I resolve to stay close to her, I feel fevered that this moment is my last chance - I created her again just as I said I would.

The train stops and the doors open to belch forth a long stream of people; it quickly becomes intensely packed on the platform. I've never seen it this crowded. There is an announcement requesting that we do not delay the departure of this train because there is another one arriving in 2 minutes. The last passengers have barely alighted when the platform guard blows his whistle to signal the doors are closing! There is jostling, the crowd surges toward the door that threatens to close any second. I despair that she will board this train without me.

Incredibly somehow everyone around this door has made it onboard the train except just the two of us who remain on the platform. Surely a second at most remains, but it seems that we are waiting for the other to make the decision. Sensing a movement on her part towards the train, I react with a bold step that commits me onboard. To my alarm she has faltered - she is still on the platform. The whistle blows again, and then to my relief she suddenly steps onboard beside me. I am about to heave praise to the heavens for the masterful orchestration of events that allowed the both of us on this train AND remain beside each other when a man materializes out of nowhere and rushes in to occupy the space between us as the doors close. Now I can't see her behind this wall of a person.

The train slowly gathers speed. The events of the past 20 seconds were mired in chaos that I still cannot know if she is truly the same person. However, I know that she is Indian and her features, hair, shade of skin, figure... they are all the same. I wait. The repositioning of bodies at the next stop will give an opportunity to move within speaking quarters. What should I say?

The doors open again at the next stop, being against the doors we are forced to step off the train to allow passengers to disembark. Stepping back on, she is herded down the stairs to the lower carriage, I follow but stop at the top of the stairs. I can see only her back. Once I am certain it is her I shall speak with her. But I cannot know from this vantage point. I sense that she is aware of my presence at the top of the stairs 15 feet away. I wish she would turn around, the indecision gnaws at me.

She turns over her shoulder, and looks up at the top of stairs and our eyes lock briefly. A surge of emotion. Then she turns away again. Two more stations pass then she turns to walk toward the stairs moving in step with other passengers leaving. Now I can see her clearly. No... it is not the same person though physically this could very well be her twin. I decide it is not her because those liquid intelligent eyes are not there, her energy is different altogether. She walks right by me then exits the train.

I dismiss the disappointment that wants to sink in. I decide I am encouraged not discouraged by this encounter... maybe I just need some fine tuning to summon her into being yet again. On the other hand, maybe she and the other girl are in fact celestial apsaras. And if so, then surely this forebodes well of my visit to the land south of the Indus river. With a warmth in my belly and a glint in my eye, I step off the train towards my office.

Canberra Sun

2010-10-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

The sun always shines in Canberra. At least it does for me. After completing a day's work at the Australian Federal Police, I have the time in hand for a stroll along the lakefront to cross the bridge leading to downtown and take a short diversion into the flower exhibition known as Floriade. The exhibition is only on for a month or so of the year and it will be ending in a few days.

And just as it was on my first visit to Canberra a week ago, the weather seems to be crafted in God's lighting studio to highlight every detail of creation. The sky looks like a 50 million pixel Mac desktop tinted a monochromatic shade of blue in every direction with shades near the horizon. And there is a steady cool breeze that whips around everything playfully. I walk along the water in my business attire with laptop bag in tote, a bit of a contrast to the joggers and cyclists that periodically pass by. I feel a bit overwhelmed by the fortune of experiencing all this, I have not known my attention so captivated by my surroundings in a long time. I walk as if in a daze, my step is light, my body feels bouyant, this is such a good dream.

A man tosses a football back and forth with his son. A pair of rowers scud by on the water.

Eventually I reach the flower show, there is only 20 minutes before closing but it is all I need. I stop to buy some white tea at one of the vendor booths. And then I head on downtown. There is time to sit down at a roadside cafe, there is no sense of hurry and no crowd. I have not experienced a city like this before.

I snap some pictures with my phone and post them online. I want everyone to see the splendour of this world.

Smitten by India

2010-10-02T01:18:00.000-07:00

I have been charmed by India. The more I research this vast offering of many cultures, religions, and types of people, the more enamored I become. A dazzling feast for the senses, India is so sensual and unrestrained, accepting and wild. Full of contrasts and contradictions. Over 50 centuries of fascinating history, this land rich in resources and people led to the growth of many luxurious palaces, pleasure gardens and massive forts. Also a spiritual land from which the religions of Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Hinduism grew out of. India seems to speak to a part of me that is finding its way into the light, a part that seeks only passion and unbridled experience.

I had first felt the pull to discover India a few years ago when I read the book Shantaram. And nowadays since I have started practicing yoga in earnest again my fascination is spurred on further. As for the women, I've never had an Indian girl catch my earnest interest until yesterday. Perhaps it has to do with the exposure of my mind to Indian heritage. There have been many many women in Sydney that look quite dazzling but lack the inner radiance and charm. And lately I have been increasingly attuned to an inner quality that is distinctly feminine in its strength and softness. Both in one. It is intoxicating and can be deadly to a male. I have read that men are like fire and women like water. Fire is strong and forceful and urgent but ultimately water in its languid and soothing way ultimately conquers fire. It is rare that I find upon first impression this quality in a woman and much rarer in an Indian girl. But yesterday amongst the oriental women in the Japanese restaurant that I ate at in The Galleria above Town Hall station, stood this simple Indian girl that was at once intelligent in her liquid gaze, vulnerable, authentic, unapologetic to happen to be by herself in a line for a Japanese restaurant and unassuming in her attire - a catching blue tight blouse with a flowing skirt and her long hair pulled back. Her simple appearance did not hide her beauty to me. I was constantly drawn to her movement and her very expressive features, especially her eyes. When I left the restaurant I walked towards her seat and I took her in visually, I knew she sensed my gaze for as I was almost upon she smiled and drew her gaze to meet mine briefly in that coquettish manner only a woman can manage. It was a moment of such honest open expression, my body passed her but it seemed my heart was no longer in it.

After the restaurant I walk into the bookstore and seek out a travel pictorial on India. I have this desire to see more of what India has to offer the traveler. I find a book that is deeply penetrating in its commentary and breathtaking in imagery. There are several pictures of people in the book and I am stunned by the beauty of some of the peasant girls; in my opinion some of these girls are more appealing that anything I've seen from Bollywood. My eyes seem to have been opened, my world has already grown larger and I haven't even set foot on Indian soil yet.

For the rest of the evening I find my thoughts straying to the girl I passed by. It is not often that I find myself preoccupied with another, there is a feeling of regret typical of a missed opportunity. What if the moment called for action? Nay, I declare that I am a creator. I will recreate her then. I make this my background mantra until I sleep.

Blavatsky Lodge and creative spirit

2010-09-29T04:59:00.000-07:00

I am supposed to be in Canberra right now to do some work for the Australian Federal Police at their headquarters, but my flight on Qantas was cancelled this morning. I'll fly out tomorrow instead. It works out much better actually, this is yet another travel arrangement in recent times to undergo revision due to unforeseen circumstances, the result of which works out happier for me than the original plan.

The other revised travel plan was my trip to India for the yoga retreat and trekking in Rishikesh. The rescheduled time plan permits me instead to be on-site in Singapore to undergo some valuable mentoring with a colleague from Europe in October AND it allows my good friend Tom in California to join me and my parents on the trip to India. That plan is now taking form between Rajasthan and Kerala instead of Rishikesh. I'll still bring my yoga mat along.

Being in the vicinity of the city today, I decided to meet Ernie and Horacio for lunch at the Theosophical society in the city. As part of their plan to meet there, they were to attend a lecture given by the visiting Director of the Emily Sellon Memorial Library in New York - Michael Gomes. The speaker is also scheduled to give the same talk at the University of Sydney this Friday. This talk concerns Madame Blavatsky, the namesake of the Blavatsky Lodge, where the Sydney Theosophical society is situated. The Theosophical society in Sydney seems to also go by the name of the Blavatsky Lodge, I haven't quite determined the reason for the duality.

This Russian lady seems to be a fascinating character whose ideas apparently helped usher in the New Age and catalyse the spiritual revolution taking place nowadays. She is the instigator of the modern Theosophical movement. And yet she is not without controversy concerning some of her actions which tend to be judged as trickery in spite of which she has profound insight into the metaphysical nature of our existence and our purpose. From the little I know of this person she reminds me of the Indian astrologer that I ran into months ago in Malaysia. He was both a messenger and a charlatan, and why can't one play both roles.

What stood out for me in his lecture was our individual role as the creative force through which the divine continually expresses itself. We are here to create and experience; it is our choice to do so in alignment with the creative force or against it. Certainly seems to be a theme resounding within me lately, in fact I am even asking myself of my creative role in revising the travel plans such that my stronger/un-conflicted desire is fulfilled. If you entertain the notion of multi-worlds then certainly this is feasible, if you have been exposed to Dr. Thomas Campbell's 'My Big T.O.E.' then this is not just possible but actually likely. To what extent are we given the room to create our reality? If anything is possible, then what prevents there truly being multiple worlds, is there just one playing board or are we each given our own?

If we look at various proposed interpretations of of quantum physics, which is the most sound theory in physics such that it forms the basis of all physics and hard science, there exists one interpretation that is given more and more credibility; and of which speaks of multiple worlds whereby all possibilities of the quantum states are expressed. It is a proposal that seeks to reconcile the randomness of our conscious creation. In other words, if a photon in a state of superposition i.e. existing as both a wave of probability of states AND a particle at the same time, can collapse to a particle upon our observation and be regarded strictly as a particle henceforth i.e. given a physical reality, then what is it that ultimately determines its location given precisely equal probability of us observing it in for example two places. Physicists are inherently uncomfortable with unexplained randomness, this discomfort is expressed by Einstein's famous quote - "God does not play dice". Therefore the multi worlds theory says that ALL possibilities are expressed and this is tantamount to saying multiple realities exists in parallel.

Before I moved to Sydney I had never heard of the Theosophical society but it seems fated for me to discover it since I've been assigned this apartment downtown just down the street from it.

On the back of the brochure I find this:

THE THEOSOPHICAL SOCIETY has Three Objects,

1. To form a nucleus of the Universal Brotherhood of Humanity, without distinction of race, creed, sex, caste or colour.
2. To encourage the study of comparative religion, philosophy and science.
3. To investigate the unexplained laws of nature and the powers latent in the human being.

I especially appreciate the third object on the list.

The motto of the Society is There is no Religion higher than Truth.

As I listen to the speaker I notice on the table near me a brochure about an upcoming series of lectures called "Realizing The New Age - From Madame Blavatsky to Julia Roberts", I pick it up wondering what Blavatsky has in common with Julia Roberts. And so on the back of this brochure I read:

Thirty years after the publication of the 'New Age' bible, "The Aquarian Conspiracy' by Marilyn Ferguson in 1980, people are flocking to join the Hollywood icon Julia Roberts on her movie spiritual journey in 'Eat Pray Love'.

Ah... it's that book again which admittedly I have neglected for over a week now. But this seems further affirmation that this book has an important role to play in the current spiritual renaissance. I should pick it up again.

Touching the Dantien

2010-09-25T03:50:00.000-07:00

Ernie and I are fast becoming friends, he too seems to be on an inner path of discovery and unlocking his potential. Ernie is a civil engineer and he has quit his job recently to devote more time to his path of self-cultivation and Horacio is a key mentor in his life. Unlike me, he has experience with other inner martial arts such as Pa Gua, in addition to the harder form of TaeKwonDo. I only have 5 years of T.K.D. and, from recently in California, a year of American style boxing.

Each time after our Taichi practice he offers me a ride back and we discuss martial arts, books, music and women. Always women are included at points in the conversation. In fact, more so it seems when Horacio is included in the chat. I am impressed at Horacio's libido and vigor for his age. He has once or twice alluded to Taoist principles of cultivating and recycling male sexual energy and I know he is familiar with Mantak Chia's teachings from his video collection. Recently I too have read these techniques for channeling chi from the male sexual center.

Today the 3 of us meet in the small common garden of the apartment property where Horacio lives, next to a massive Eucalyptus tree. The climate on this gorgeous spring day is exceptional, there is a certain character to the atmosphere that compels me to ponder the grand artistry behind it. Any doubt is dispelled an hour later when Horacio looks up at the sky and comments likewise about the universe being in alignment on this day.

As part of the warmup for the Taichi practice, Horacio has me pat Ernie's tummy in certain clockwise and then counterclockwise patterns, a sort of dantien massage. I feel a bit silly doing this as Ernie closes his eyes and focuses his breathe, I wonder if this is honestly bringing any value to us. And feel downright sheepish when I notice the reaction of the woman on her balcony next door as she is hanging her clothes. Horacio gives further directions, "now, place your hands overlapping like this and leave it on his Dantien", I do so and am startled to feel an acute hot spot beneath my palm emanating from Ernie. This is the first time I have affirmation from another person that the dantien is not a myth. Until then I had wondered if the new sensations I was discovering in my lower belly during yoga and Taichi was my imagination.

On this day, Horacio has me engage him in Push Hands, normally I practice with Ernie only. As we begin I immediately observe that with Horacio, Pushing Hands seems akin to "pushing air" - there simply is no resistance from his movements; and yet he continually redirects my attempts to offset his center, without moving his feet a step. "Here, I'll use only one arm and you try to contain me with both your hands." "Meet me with resistance, the moment I disappear you lose your balance. When you resist it makes me easier to find your center.", as an example I resist and sure enough I stumble the moment he steps aside. "We are programmed to tighten and become rigid, but it is not a natural response. This programming comes from society and any authority in your history", he says. "Find the inner space and grows this space, this is where true freedom lies." A little later, he tells me to "be like water and stick to me." I try but each time his arm finds its way through "my thousand doors", I tighten up in fear and reinforce his attack, it is not easy to stay fluid and react correctly.

After 3 hours of solo form and PushHands practice that fly by, Horacio serves us lunch at a table on the deck beside our practice area. He has prepared a vegetarian meal with herbs from his garden. "When you practice Taichi your body will seek to avoid unhealthy food", he says. As I eat the delicious dish, I take in the scene before me, Ernie and Horacio munching with focus on their plates and the perfection of this gentle spring climate. I am awed by my fortune for meeting these two men who have taught me much and for nothing in return. Ernie too has spoken before of his fortune in spending the time with Horacio.

I look back at the Taichi teachers that I have learned from the past year and it fascinates me to realize that the teachers that brought the most value to my practice were the ones that asked for the least in return. When I had initially arrived in Sydney I could only locate one Taichi instructor that taught the 108 Yang style that I had been learning in Malaysia, she wanted to charge me $120 an hour for a private lesson. I agreed but she decided it was not worth happening if I was unable to commit to a schedule. And here is Horacio, teaching me what I consider to be a true martial art form with immediate application in self-defense wherein the principles promulgated are generally applicable to a mode of living in natural excellence - all for less than $10 a week.

Over our food I ask Ernie if he does any Qigong. "Yeah, sort of...", he replies and describes some breathing techniques and exercises he does. "How long do you do this for?", is my next question. I had heretofore assumed that I was the only guy my age in Sydney that practiced any form of Qigong on his own on a daily basis, now I was wondering if Ernie could top my 20 minute daily routine. "About 2 hours each time", is his casual response. My eyebrows rise at least an inch. That would explain the distinct heat sensation I felt in his Dantien.

Later in the car as we drive across the Sydney Harbor bridge on the way to dropping me at my apartment, I comment on his dantien. "I was wondering if it was heartburn, acid reflux...", we joke.

Rishikesh washed out

2010-09-22T03:44:00.000-07:00

My trip to the Rishikesh region of India for a yoga retreat in an ashram and trekking in the Himalayas is cancelled because of disastrous flooding. This region is the source of the Ganges river and there is a dam that is threatening to be released as it approaches its maximum capacity. Already, there have been bridges washed out and thousands of tourists stranded. A friend of mine in Delhi has advised me against approaching the region so I've opted not to go down that path as the lingering threat of disease is now a real concern. I guess my path has taken a big divergence from Eat, Pray, Love. And thanks to a natural disaster, it's one of those cards up the sleeves of a higher power that can be cast at anytime to change one's course. I am reminded of my trek to Milford Sound in New Zealand last year, that too was literally a washout...

I already have a ticket to India, but now I'll look to a different region. My parents will also join this trip, I have enjoyed travelling with them in the past, most memorably to Machu Picchu and the fringes of the Amazon. I find the idea of cruising the backwaters of Kerala on a private houseboat very, very appealing. Actually more appealing than the yoga retreat in Rishikesh.

Still in the Eating Stage

2010-09-19T03:32:00.000-07:00

I am on the 8th bead of the book. The author uses beads because she has divided the book into 108 chapters as an imitation of the prayer beads of the monks in India she observes. At this point, I have already grown quite an affection for the protagonist. Early in the book a belief I had that women desire nothing more than to have babies was overturned. I am prompted to recall a similar episode in my life almost 8 years ago; the time I broke up with my girlfriend of 5 years in Vancouver, I still see vividly her tearful pleading with me not to end the relationship. I remember this day because I felt like a criminal, and the futile reason I offered her was one I could not truly comprehend. "I need to go and see the world... meet other people...", I didn't expect her to understand it because I didn't either. And sure enough, shortly after the breakup with her I was laid off from my job in Vancouver and the southerly winds took hold of me.

On the 9th bead the author comments about the Sufi poet and philosopher Rumi advising his students to write down the 3 things they want most out of life. To paraphrase her, "if any item on the list clashes with any other item,... you are destined for unhappiness". Similarly, in ancient Greece, the Oracle at Delphi had two maxims posted above the entrance to her chamber, for the edification of those who sought her prophecy: "Know thyself" was one of them. If the wise ones tell us to know ourselves clearly then certainly it pays to do so.

It is 5 months ago, and my friend hands me a deck of cards with instructions to peruse the thick deck and choose 21 that are dearest to me. On each card is written a single word representing an aspect of life to be valued to some degree such as "travel", "humor" or "family". Some of the cards are left out with a twinge of regret while others are obvious. I hand the 21 to her only to have her return it, "now choose 7", she says. This time I take a bit more time with each card but eventually I am left with 7 that resemble a complete happy life. "Now take 4 out...", this time I am loathe to leave a couple out. After some changes of heart and careful deliberation, I settle with these 3 -

"Freedom", "Health" and "Passion".

EAT PRAY LOVE

2010-09-16T22:30:00.000-07:00

I have been hearing many times now about this book. I see it in bookstores but have never given it a second glance, I understand it to be something of a spiritual journey of a woman but most likely watered down or packaged for a mainstream audience which means it will likely not have much wisdom in it. Sort of like... The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari which to me reads like someone's efforts to write a book in order to place himself into a Ferrari. The last time I heard of it was from the manager of the travel agency downstairs from my workplace, I had stepped in to buy my ticket to India. She cautioned me ,as others did, that it's a girly book and most guys wouldn't read it. I confess I've read the Confessions of a Shopaholic so surely I can stomach this, if nothing more it would be an interesting peek into a girl's mind to suit my desire to see into the mind of a woman.

I sit down in the Italian restaurant down a couple of doors from my apartment downtown. It is just a small cafe run by two Italian guys but the food is divine. I download a sample of the book into my Kindle e-reader and read the introduction. One of the Italian guys puts down a fried fritter of some sort, "it's a fritella" he announces in his sing song Italian. "It's complimentary, Bon Apetit!" I consume it with relish, it's marvellous. I swallow the last piece just as the author of the book reveals that the first stage of her journey begins in Italy concerning the pleasure of eating. It's sign, this is practically "God" grabbing me by the collar and shaking me "Read the book!", you're in an Italian restaurant eating and next month you're going to be learning yoga in an ashram - just like the character in the book does! READ THE BOOK! And so I order the full download of the book before one flies out of the air and hits me in the head.

Push Hands

2010-09-11T21:26:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I take the bus to Horacio's home in the suburbs. We sit on a couple of chairs in his backyard which actually a common backyard for the row of modest single bedroom apartments in the block. I am struck by the freshness and splendour of the bougainvilas in full bloom, interspersed by his collection of potted bonsai plants. It is early spring but it seems to be in full swing here. I am thrilled to be here because I get to practice the art of Pushing Hands which is an application of TaiChi with a partner. Most people only learn the solo form but the hidden martial applications can only truly be expressed with a partner, Pushing Hands also cultivates an acute level of awareness and understanding of Yin and Yang. Two people stand facing each other and perform offensive and yielding moves in what appears to be an ebb and flow, each seeks to upset the other’s center and then deliver a maneuver that neutralizes the opponent. The key is to remain fluid and to attach oneself to the other’s energy so as to frustrate his attacks. It takes many years to master.

Horacio by his plants

A new TaiChi instructor

2010-09-10T21:16:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from a session with a new TaiChi instructor named Horacio. Horacio is the 5th person I have engaged to learn TaiChi from. He is about 65 and from Argentina, a very gentle and kind soul but I perceive in him an iron core that keeps him grounded. I loved him immediately after I met him a couple of weeks ago at the Theosophical society in Sydney. After my first lesson we sat around some coffee in the cafe downstairs along with Ernie, a steady student of his whose mannerisms remind me of Nicolas Cage. I asked him about how TaiChi has enriched his life and part of his response drew me back to my previous posting. He mentioned the root of all things as a word of which I cannot recall... but it made me think of the phrase from the bible that I had used as my subject header previously. Then he mentioned how there are many paths that point to this ‘root’, in Taoism it would be called the Tao... in Christianity the Greek word is Logos. “You can walk many paths and experiment, ultimately they all lead to the root”, he said.

What does TaiChi bring into his life? Space is his answer. Or more precisely the awareness of space within which he can create and choose his responses. This ability has much to do with our level of freedom.

In the Beginning was the Word...

2010-09-09T21:13:00.000-07:00

In my mind, thoughts swirl then percolate into words, relieved of their meaning they leave my lips and appear before me like the barren limbs of a tree.

I am listening to a narration of a series of letters written by a great warrior from the 19^th century whom went by the name of his paternal grandfather – Abraham Lincoln. I have often admired the precision and flair with which people have expressed themselves in the past. No doubt back then an educated person commanded a wider vocabulary. When we consistently express ourselves in such a way we create the conditions that propel us toward our dreams. A. Lincoln is an easy example of this. Here is a master magician of the word, I present an example of a famous letter that he wrote during the American Civil War in response to a mother that he supposed had lost all 5 of her sons in the war.

“

Executive Mansion,
Washington, Nov. 21, 1864.

Dear Madam,

I have been shown in the files of the War Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic they died to save. I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Yours, very sincerely and respectfully,

A. Lincoln”

The eloquence of this man seems unmatched these days.

In this age of information technology our words are often taken for granted by the ease of communication – Facebook, sms, Tweeter. We post thoughts on a whim and it is broadcast across the global public domain in an instant. With such flurry of communication, the effort we put into the accuracy of our expression is diminished by the dispensable and/or editable nature of our words. We have forgotten that our words have the power to create who we are. When we are not impeccable with our words such as when we exaggerate or habitually borrow other people’s expressions, our careless and whimsical weaving leads to frayed and useless cloth. When our statements are expressed in a steady conscientious manner, impeccable words can weave magnificent robes. The right expressions can ignite dormant parts of our selves. Most harmful is when we express ourselves in a lazy manner and then begin to adopt our expression as the truth about ourselves, or when we cast venomous words that infect another, if we are not careful the effect remains a lifetime; consider that so much of our mental suffering stems from words that were directed at us long ago. And consider that the word has the power to reshape your belief, repeat anything out loud daily and you inevitably begin to subscribe to it.

Indeed without the power of my words, The Bright Path would largely be a figment of my imagination. Having said that, words can only ever be signposts and never the destination. Where this path goes, words will ultimately fail. Perhaps that is why I have been posting less. Most days are spent doing yoga and taichi, exploring the commonality between the Tao, Christ’s teachings, Tantra and the warrior path, much of my experiential learning cannot be conveyed adequately. But there is still an inclination that compels me to journal again, somehow I feel that this journaling fulfils me. It is a creative expression and I feel joy when I write. I believe we are all meant to create a story of our life, it is our artistry – we are artisans the moment we pick our tools.

Bintan

2010-07-18T02:02:00.000-07:00

I am walking on a beach, the sand in soft and the tide is low. It is almost sundown, the beach is quiet. Behind me just 500 meters away is the resort that I have booked into seeking a weekend's respite from the unrelenting frenetic city state of Singapore. As such a trip last year at Belum, I was initially upset by the number of people when I checked in. It seemed that half the island of Singapore had followed me here on the ferry. After a session of yoga in my seaward facing room, I decided to see if I could find some solitude by foot. The temperature had begun to cool and the air was redolent with the fragrance of plants. I cherish this time of day for this reason. It seems that Nature relinquishes her essence as the sun goes down.

When I am far enough away from the resort, I begin Taichi. I feel grateful for the infinite sky and ocean before me. Such a wonderfully liberating expanse, the residual weight of the city slips from my shoulders which each flowing posture. When I am done I sit on the beach and Ascend for a bit until I am distracted by the arrival of 5 European girls walking by the water's edge. I wonder how I must seem sitting here.

Eventually the sun slips beneath the horizon and I am still sitting. I stand up and write on the sand, then look at the water. It beckons to play. I consider stepping into the sea and as I do excuses begin to form. I dismiss them and find myself discarding my shorts, I step naked into the sea. For the first time in my life I am skinny dipping. I float on my back and let the eddying bounce of the water take me as I gaze at the moon, it feels almost like an embryonic state. Complete surrender.

Showers of freedom

2010-06-20T02:05:00.000-07:00

I step into this shower of my hotel for the 17th time, but this time in a sombre mood. I'm starting to feel anxious that the time I've spent on this project - resisting the pressure from the client to toil constantly on the project and feeling on edge from lack of rigorous activity - is to be the summation of my experience with the new company. Things were starting to gel well in Sydney, I was starting a routine again and looking forward to staying progressive with learning Salsa, tennis, yoga etc. Aside from the heaps of knowledge I've picked up on the job, being here feels like a waste of precious life. My work has encroached my personal life, the client is the most demanding I've ever had. My life still feels like a whirlwind that hasn't stopped spinning for over 2 years. I crave some roots.

This shower is going to be different I decide. I put on some music - LadyBlacksmith Mambazo the remixes. There are 2 songs on this album that transport me. I need to be somewhere else, the vocals are an incantation that carries me to the plains of Africa. I recall the time when I was in Tanzania on the Serengeti, large rain laden clouds rolling in the skies above and the warm wind sweeping the savannah. It was a wild and unrestrained place. With my eyes closed I am running - a bushman. the sky flashes with lightning and I am urged on by the voices in the song.

The song shifts and now I am sitting by a fire with a tribe. An elder is placing some earth in the open palm of my hand and speaking in a strange tongue. The sparks from the flames leap high, the faces around the fire reflect admiration and love. I feel a sense of belonging and purpose. It is some sort of initiation...

I want to feel, only feel... and so I do something completely uncharacteristic in the shower - I dance. And when the mind attempts to intervene, I dismiss it and the limbs are moving on their own, I am not even aware of the movements. In my shower stall there is no trace of civilization, just a naked man in a primitive dance.

I'm haunted by that same accusation I thought I'd buried - that I'm selling out on my dreams. Time is whittling away. This island city feels like Alcatraz at times. The knowledge that there are millions of people crammed on a piece of land that can be traversed by foot in a day is unsettling to someone who gets a high from great expanses of wide open emptiness. I know something isn't right because I seem to find it quite impossible to enjoy the company of most people. It seems that my grand aunt and uncle who live in Singapore are the only people I enjoy being with for extended time. It is nice to sit and not feel judged or analyzed. Where does this come from? I think I just need to feel appreciated. There is that aspect too, I miss being appreciated for nothing more than being who I am. Sitting on their couch sipping tea is food for my soul.

Fancy meeting you here

2010-06-19T02:09:00.000-07:00

Today I had one of my questions answered.

The salesman in the designer watch store in Raffles City tells me to try along Bras Basah street to have the link in my watch repaired. As I walk there seeking a watch store a man calls out to me. Again, like the last time, I was not really aware of the man as we passed until he called to me. It is the astrologer from India... again. It feels so surreal I wonder if I am dreaming. How can this be? I am in Singapore now, whereas we met 3 months ago in Malaysia... "You sir, have a very lucky face. July is a very lucky month for you!", he says to me. I feel disappointed. He IS a charlatan and this proves it. I interrupt him as he is telling me about some kind of lucky lines on my forehead to shake his hand and tell him I must go, I have to... to meet someone... it is a lie but this guy doesn't deserve honesty. Lines on my forehead?? I'm wearing a cap and sunglasses, you can't even see my forehead! Seagulls can recognize me with my cap and sunglasses on but not this guy, he doesn't realize that we've met before.

No matter, my previous conclusion has been affirmed. The man WAS a charlatan but also a messenger, April WAS the luckiest month I've had as long as I can remember. Now I can look forward to July too :)

First day at work

2010-05-02T02:14:00.000-07:00

It's been a week since I've been in Sydney now...

The first day did not disappoint, I was put up in the rather posh downtown Hilton by the company. I headed there after the overnight flight for a shower and to look presentable for work that same day. I was advised by my boss HH to wear a tie so he could show me off to his boss. I had never worn a tie to work before. Meeting my coworkers I find that most of them are male and European. And within the European contingent, they are mostly German. In fact, my boss and my other teammate M are German. I am so immersed in German people that by the end of the week, I find myself actually thinking with a German accent. Before the day is over I am handed a beer by a female coworker, as we drink and chat over beers at her desk I can't help but marvel that I have crossed the Red Sea into the Promised Land. Later that night, HH takes me to Darling Harbor for one of the juiciest steaks I've ever had along with a bottle of wine. We are joined by his Korean wife and 8 year old son. HH tells me that I am intended for training for a month before I start dealing with clients. I see that I am going to enjoy working with HH.

The office is in North Sydney, a couple of blocks past the Sydney Harbor bridge, I typically take the train in from CBD (Central Business District i.e. downtown core). After the one night in the Hilton, I relocated to an apartment provided by the company that is one block from Darling Harbor. I frequently have my meals after work at the eateries lining the harbor, they all have excellent views.

New Beginnings

2010-04-22T05:23:00.000-07:00

It is morning and I am sitting at the cafe downstairs from the apartment that I have been living at for the past 2 years. Tonight I leave for Australia, the flight arrives at 8am in Sydney and I actually start my first working day on that same day. This is because my new boss will not be in all of next week and he wants to introduce me to the team. I'll have 3 days off in succession thereafter since Monday is a holiday with it being Anzac Day.

In an hour the movers will be here to pack my things, I'll have it stored locally for about a month prior to shipment in order to time the arrival 2 months from now. This will allow the items to be delivered to my new apartment instead of the temporary serviced apartment provided by the company.

Yesterday as I was organizing my items for shipment, my mother made an interesting comment. She said, "You'll be arriving in Australia to begin your new life on April 23rd. Do you know that it was precisely on that date 20 years ago that we landed in Canada as immigrants?."

Historically April tends to be a conspicuous month for relocation. Last year in April, I was in New Zealand with the intention of starting a new life there but it didn't quite work out - I simply decided it was not the right place for me irregardless of the gorgeous landscape. The year before last, I moved out of California in April too. And if memory serves me correctly, I arrived in California 5 years before that in April too. It is fascinating.

Is this a general phenomenon? Do statistics show that people tend to relocate across borders when the first flowers bloom after a long winter?

Appropriate Quote

2010-04-21T05:26:00.000-07:00

We cannot discover new oceans,....
until we have the COURAGE to lose sight of the shore,.....

I like the quote above sent to me by my friend in Australia on my birthday. My mother's response is to chuckle and say while looking at my father, "When we travel, I take the 'Shor-i' with me".

Another Happy Return

2010-04-21T04:32:00.000-07:00

It is befitting that on my birthday I post this excerpt from Paulo Coelho's Manual of the Warrior of Light (which I am now reading):

A warrior of light knows that he has much to be grateful for.

He was helped in his struggle by the angels; celestial forces placed each

thing in its place, thus allowing him to give of his best.

His companions say: 'He's so lucky!' And the warrior does sometimes

achieve things far beyond his capabilities.

That is why, at sunset, he kneels and gives thanks for the Protective Cloak

surrounding him.

His gratitude, however, is not limited to the spiritual world; he never forgets

his friends, for their blood mingled with his on the battlefield.

I have been quite touched by the outpouring of well wishes from friends and relatives this year for my birthday. With the advent of Facebook and mobile text messaging, it is little effort to reach out to someone; and thus, never in my lfie have I been so inundated with greetings. Birthday greetings aside, the past month in general has been laden with hugs, well wishes and heartfelt goodbyes between myself and my friends in California and Malaysia as I embark for Australia. I have been feeling a bit drained by it to be honest. It is the pouring of love I think. I shall not take the people in my life for granted, it was once said by a wise man - "the level of happiness in life is not by how much you are loved but rather how much love you have for others".

A mystery is solved

2010-04-08T05:15:00.000-07:00

It is my last day here in the States and I have spent most of it packing then Ascending and doing Tai Chi in Tom's driveway. I love Tai Chi there, it is sunny and cool on most days. I can smell the ocean nearby and freshly cut grass from the golf course along with Eucalyptus. Tom returns early from work and we run some last minute errands before my flight departs later in the night.

I mention that I need to scan my driver's license because my brother is selling his car in Texas though technically the vehicle is registered in my name still so I need to authorize the transfer of ownership. Tom is quiet for awhile then he says, "I think I actually have a picture of your driver's license on my PC." "Why on earth do you have a picture of my driver's license on your PC?", I ask. "Because you scanned it the last time you were visiting, because you needed to....", he pauses in recollection then starts again, "I think you needed to purchase something online and they wanted verification of your ID and credit card." It comes back to me now - yes indeed I did scan it last time. "Well, no matter I'll scan it anyways, I've got my replacement ID.", I say.

My replacement ID was obtained a couple of weeks ago, in fact I had scheduled an appointment at the Inglewood DMV office for two days after I had gotten into L.A. so I could finally replace my California driver's license that had mysteriously gone missing when I returned to Malaysia following my last trip to the US.

After some thought I add, "Is your scanner working?" "Yeah sure, I think my scanner is still working, I've not actually used it since you used it the last time you were in L.A.". A light bulb flashes in my head and at the same moment Tom turns to me and says "I think we might have figured out where you lost your ID."

Could it be? Is THAT the reason I had returned to Malaysia over a year ago convinced that someone had robbed me on the flight back. I had turned my room upside down looking for it, I had not bothered to phone Tom to ask if he had seen my ID and bank card since I figured he would have mentioned it for sure.

When we return to his home, Tom heads straight for the scanner and lo and behold, produces my driver's license AND bank card that were in the precise placement as I had left them over a year ago. What are the chances that I would need to scan my driver's license in both visits? Not likely but it's a good thing I did since it finally brought closure to a nagging mystery. Tom and I share a good laugh at my expense.

Sway with Me

2010-04-05T03:28:00.000-07:00

It is 340pm in the afternoon and I am standing perusing the shelves in a spiritual bookstore called Mystic Journey on Abbot Kinney Blvd. in Venice, California. Tom is there also, looking about on his own.

I am engrossed in the titles on the shelf before me when I become aware of two things occurring - one is the loud chiming from the large standing display array of chimes and gongs behind me and the other is the swaying motion of my body. I think to myself that something is amiss but perhaps it is my imagination. Then the swaying becomes more pronounced and I try to comprehend how it is that the sound of chimes is causing me to sway in this uncontrollable manner.

I turn around and Tom is now standing before me speaking about a book in his hands but I am not paying much attention, instead I notice that the temperament of the people in the room has shifted. It hits me that this is an earthquake and in fact the strongest tremor that I have ever experienced. Tom does not seem to notice it until he is looking at me directly and then it registers that the distance between us is shifting in a dizzying way. Nobody panics but there are people already making phone calls to dear ones before the tremors subside after a minute. I overhear a phone conversation about someone's swimming pools overflowing.

As Tom pays for his book the cashier tells him that there was a 7.2 earthquake in Baja California, incredible that the epicenter was hundreds of miles away yet felt so strongly.

Me versus China

2010-04-03T04:21:00.000-07:00

Today I met with LD, his wife LP and 11 year old daughter XX for dinner at their new home in a quaint peaceful neighborhood in Irvine. First LD, XX and I agreed to meet on the tennis court nearby to play some tennis.

This is a sort of big deal for me... LD is a former national #1 player in his home country of China and has competed in Davis Cup tennis, once ranked inside the top 300 in the world now he makes his living as a professional coach in California. I had first met them 7 years ago when they lived in Malaysia as neighbors to my aunt. Back then I had just moved out of Vancouver and was residing temporarily in Malaysia. I asked LD to teach me tennis. He was my first tennis coach and despite his poor English I learned a good deal over the 3 months of lessons.

Then I left for California and figured I would not see them again. I was wrong - a couple of years later I received an email from LD saying that he was moving with his family to California. He had been granted a green card almost instantaneously by the US because of his hefty sports credentials. He asked for assistance about where to live and how to start coaching in the US. I gladly obliged.

When they made the move to California, I volunteered to pick them up from the airport. There were a couple of occasions when they would get hopelessly lost trying to get home in the initial period of adjustment. The confusion stemmed primarily from the road sign convention being reversed, in Asia a sign directly across from you at an intersection referred to the road you were on. But in America, the sign pertained to the road parallel to it. There was an occasion when I had to excuse myself from work in the afternoon to rescue them.

More gratitude came a year later when LP applied for a job at the bank. My boss' wife was actually the hiring manager and I only realized the connection when he mentioned it to me at work that someone that fit the description of my friends had applied at his wife's workplace. And so I became an impromptu reference, LP got the job and she attributed that in part to my endorsement.

I suppose that LD and family see me as a lucky charm of sorts for I sense they have a fond place in their hearts for me because of the role I played in their footing in 'The Wild West'.

And so when I played LD and XX, I resolved not to be taken down easily by an 11 year old girl. I had my concerns, she had been playing a LOT of tennis with her Dad and also winning competitions in her age group. XX was a lot taller than I last saw her, she was turning into a pretty and lanky girl. I had the impression of an Asian Sharapova minus the ear splitting shrieks. As we rallied, she struck the ball confidently and consistently. I couldn't count on her making the unforced errors, I had to be a jerk and rely on my more powerful serve and go for winners at each opportunity. In the end, my brute force won the day.

Then LD stood up in a business like manner, it almost seemed like he pulled up his britches when he got off the bench. "Ok, now we play.", he announces.

We play for the first to win 4 games. I win the first two points and then everything else transpires in a blur of frenzied scrambling and errors on my part. Before I realize it he is standing at the net triumphantly waiting to shake my hand, I walk up and dazedly remark, "it's over already??".

Divine Matrix entanglement or coincidence?

2010-04-01T03:54:00.000-07:00

When I was working in Malaysia I went out for lunch twice with a co-worker. We would go to a Balinese restaurant and talk about traveling and about how we were both going to quit the company soon for adventure and to shake up our lives. She had her own plans and I had mine. Hers were along the lines of traveling to Europe or some 3rd world country to do volunteer work and I spoke of a new life in Sydney at some point. She left the company a couple of months before me in late January and the last we had communicated was late Dec. We had only met on those two lunch occasions.

A few days ago Tom mentioned that our friend S had a friend of a friend from Malaysia who was in the Los Angeles area for 2 weeks to do a bar tending course. The description was of someone who had been living in Washington for awhile, had graduated from Yale and now was passing through LA and perhaps Tom could put her up for awhile. He told S he couldn't since I was already staying with him. Tom showed me the name of the person on his Blackberry, I was a little stunned that it was the same name as my aforementioned co-worker - she had an unusual name.

Tom arranged for the 3 of us to meet anyways for dinner in Long Beach. I asked my friend IM and his girl friend to join us too, it would be nice for IM and Tom to meet too. As Tom and I pulled into the hotel reception driveway, I looked over at him and said "how weird would it be if it were actually my ex-coworker?". I stepped out of the car and my jaw dropped, it WAS her and she looked even more shocked than I did.

Is this a random coincidence? The timing location and chain of people that allowed this to happen spontaneously... can we dismiss this to mere coincidence or are we forced instead to acknowledge an underlying intelligence or guiding force such as the workings of the Divine Matrix described by Gregg Braden. The particular feature of the Divine Matrix to which I allude to is the quantum physics phenomenon known as non-local entanglement, it can be read here.

Time in Dallas

2010-03-30T03:23:00.000-07:00

Dallas has been a fabulous trip with glorious weather. I've been wanting to be here for a long time to make up for missing my younger brother's wedding in Fiji last year. That moment was the lowest point in my life since leaving California, I remember literally being floored by the acceptance that I was going to miss the occassion. Up until that moment, I had not realized how much I loved my brother - it hurt a lot.

For the past 4 days I've been catching up with him and his wife (A & A) living the bourgeois life - lots of shopping... and eating. The food has been very good, one morning the 3 of us ate at this Cafe de Patisserie called Bonnie Ruth's. A & A along with their close circle of friends are in a period of abstinence at this time for Lent. Each has opted to forgo certain pleasures such as bread and flour or meat. Since I am not abstaining, I attack the buffet and enjoy the best breakfast for as long as I can remember. Crepes in berries and cream cheese, french toast with thick syrup and chunks of butter. There are also red velvet cupcakes that melt in your mouth that I enjoy the next day when him and I return for lunch.

To compensate for all the glorious food, the folks in Dallas pursue a lot of fitness related activities. The current fitness fad is the P90X workout program. My brother gives me a copy.

We also go Salsa dancing at the yoga/Aikido/pilates studio. I enjoy Salsa dancing but I have not been committed to it for many years so really I am a newbie again. I do enjoy very much dancing with different women in the class, there is always a different sort of chemistry with each person and it is quite obvious when you pay attention to it. There is a tall slim African American girl that seems to have no shyness about her, she is constantly staring me in the face in a friendly manner as we perform our basic maneuvers. I resist looking at my feet and face her. When it is time to switch partners she playfully whispers "Hot!!" as she grins with a gleam in her eye. I know what she means. By the end of the class I am convinced that in Sydney I shall take on bi-weekly Salsa lessons to gain a respectable level of proficiency in it. I do believe Tai Chi will compliment Salsa as I grow my body awareness and become more attuned to the interplay of yin and yang forces.

Cali Living

2010-03-25T02:29:00.000-07:00

After 4 days the appreciation for being here has waned, replaced instead by a prevailing sense of peace and contentment. Nevertheless there's no doubt that the cleaner air and better diet along with a comfortable mattress at Tom's place has charged me up. We went for a run the other day, I hadn't run for over a year and my body protested especially the lower half. Towards the end I thought my legs would seize up on me. Tom was quite amused, normally I hold up much better. Over the next two days I play tennis with old friends and I struggle on tired legs. Nevertheless it is exhilirating to be outside in the perfect weather, the sun is bright but I do not feel burdened by it. The ball seems to be in HDTV because of the clarity of the climate.

I also take the opportunity to do some shopping, I have been quite deprived of retail choices living in Malaysia. I soon content myself with my purchases. I soak in the freedom of going anywhere without too much concern for parking and traffic and there are many places to go... I marvel at the ability to be seated in a restaurant in a mall just 5 minutes after exiting the freeway. In Malaysia, I would be struggling for another 15 minutes or so through traffic and then jockeying with other drivers through clogged streets scanning for parking. There would always seem to be someone waiting impatiently on your tail.

Yesterday I met with my friend IM, we've known each other for about 15 years. I met him in the Philippines, where he is from. His father and mine were expatriate colleagues in Taiwan. Coincidentally we both moved to Southern California several years ago. Right before I left California, he enlisted in the military and shipped out for training and then Korea. I hadn't seen him since. He was back in California for a while having completed officer training.

The military runs contrary to much of what I value. From the denial of the individual to the eager use of violence to subjugate, so I'd been sad when IM told me a few years ago he was enlisting. I've always known him to be the nicest guy in the world - soft-spoken, great sense of humor and courteous, as I sat in the restaurant I wondered how he would have changed. But he hadn't... still the same gracious guy. He did however acknowledge that the soldier in him doesn't show up in regular life and he preferred to be in full-time duty, he didn't like having to switch between the two personas. It isn't an easy life he admitted. I asked him why he loved being in the military and he said "they get shit done".

Fresh Eyes

2010-03-22T02:27:00.000-07:00

A customer holds the door open for me with a warm smile as I step into Starbucks . I've been carrying a sense of displacement to get here. I'd driven self-consciously on the road, trying not to offend anyone with any of the poor driving habits I've acquired from KL. As I approach the counter, I ask for an oatmeal and order a mocha from the cheerful blonde. I also ask for the nearest AT&T and 3 people chime in including the brunette woman standing behind me in line. I feel as though I have stepped onto a staged performance of some kind, I am not accustomed anymore to such an outpouring of assistance.

As I sit at the table listening to a tune by Nina Simone while sipping on my mocha, I feel a strong sense of gratitude and love for this country and it's people. We may share different opinions and outlooks but in that moment it didn't matter one bit. I find myself saying outloud "I vow to return America". Someday... No sooner than I think that do I overhear another customer at the counter "It's good to be back home. I agree with her and wonder at the same time 'Is this my home?'. I don't know... And then it hits me, the reason for my sense of displacement... this trip marks the end of the longest period that I have been away from North America in the past 17 years. No wonder everything that is different from where I have been seems so highlighted.

I step outside Starbucks and pause to take in the fresh sweet air, the sound of birds chirping and the distant hum of a lawn mower. The casual unhurried demeanor of the people. A man chats candidly on his mobile phone, the sky is clear blue and seems to stretch for endless miles. Ahh... the space and freedom before me, another surge of gratitude takes me as I step towards my car.

Meeting Tom

2010-03-21T02:16:00.000-07:00

It was a long and arduous flight to get this far but finally I am in LAX (Los Angeles Airport) having cleared customs and immigration. Air China was the airline and I've plumbed new depths of discomfort traveling this low-cost carrier. I spent one night in Hong Kong, I stayed at the Marriott near the hotel. The food was expensive but my instincts were correct when I ordered the assorted Indian curry platter - it was perhaps the most gratifying Indian meal I've ever had.

I am fumbling with my luggage and wallet looking to get some coins for a phone call to alert Tom to my arrival when I hear "well, well, well..", I look up and it's my dear friend Tom standing before me. As usual my reply is facetious, "Hey man, what are you doing here? Just doing your usual rounds around LAX picking up strangers?". It is wonderful to be in his company again.

Perhaps no one else has taught me the value of friendship other than Tom. His willingness to go out of his way for his friends has re-written my book on human nature and relationships. Tom also mentioned before that also he regards me as a role model of sorts with my drive for continuous learning, risk taking and perspective on life. This relationship is one that I cherish highly. He is family to me.

We drop off my luggage at his home near the airport and then proceed to Mr.Cecils. A hole-in-the-wall diner that serves quite honestly the best ribs in town. I attack the enormous BBQ beef ribs with gusto, I've been deprived of a meal like this for far too long.

Upheaval

2010-03-20T22:51:00.000-07:00

After many, many months of routine living, patiently biding my time... I find myself in another upheaval. Ever since I learned of my imminent move to Sydney, I've noticed changes:

1. When I am present in the moment, the physical world around me seems to be recast in a new light of seeing. There seems to be an aliveness in even inanimate objects; it is as though everything I see is saying goodbye in a subtle manner. Maybe it is a knowing that I cannot any longer take the things around me for granted for soon they shall change.

2. I have been struggling a bit with relationships, suddenly questioning the true nature of each. My mind tends to want to dismiss them as being superficial, maybe it is a way of avoiding the pain of saying goodbye.

3. Events have been happening in a blur, I have not grounded for days and I have not been Ascending nor practicing Tai Chi. It's been quite stressful and I know the look on my face most of the time is grim.

Now that I am sitting here in the airport departure lounge I have become pensive and contemplate the crossroads that I have come to again. I am going to the US for 3 weeks, then back to Malaysia for one week then... onto Sydney for a permanent position. I see Australians around me here in the departure terminal and I wonder how the interaction with them will be compared to Californians and Canadians. But at the same time, I feel as Santiago - the Andalucian Shepherd Boy. Am I on the path of my Personal Legend? I believe so.

Seeking encouragement, I have bought the book 'The Fifth Mountain' by Paulo Coelho at the bookstore in the departure lounge. It is a tale of Elijah in the ninth century BC, and seems to be about enduring faith to triumph. I spent a while in there picking up and replacing many books before the one that felt right was found. I suppose I need to be reminded of magic, adventure and fulfillment of dreams, I have been fearful and anxious lately. It is not a feeling I am accustomed to, but one that tends to enshroud me when I spend time with my parents who constantly spin words of caution and end up injecting negativity. It could be also I am more susceptible to such, I have not slept properly in many many many nights... I will make it a top priority to find myself the ideal mattress in Sydney.

Gathering Winds of Change

2010-03-11T22:46:00.000-08:00

I am at the car service center working remotely on my laptop while awaiting the maintenance of my vehicle. On a whim I log into my personal email account to have a brief look.

There is an email from a former work associate; the last email we had exchanged was almost 4 months ago. I had initiated that exchange to formally declare my interest in working with his company X, a multinational Canadian company that is performing very well. I was hoping to be based in Sydney since that's where he worked out of. It would also be a great step for me professionally since it would be an increase in my role. He said that unfortunately they were in a hiring freeze but would keep me at the top of his list.

My finger instantly clicks the email and it takes me a couple of moments with my mouth open to grasp the meaning though it is short - "Are you still interested in working for X?". Waves of euphoria hit me. I have this knowing that finally this is the long awaited payoff to the gamble I had taken in giving up my job and life in California two years ago. I quickly respond "This is wonderful news! How soon do you need me?". We agree I should start after my trip to the US, sometime late April.

The rest of the day is spent floating, there is a looseness in me. By the end of day, I feel completely spent; I attribute it to strong overdue relief. I come home from work and fall asleep almost immediately. As I do so, I think with a smile, "that yogi guy was right after all"...

Arun by day, Alan by night

2010-03-10T18:26:00.000-08:00

I find it quite amusing that:

During the day when I am at work, my boss who is from India refers to me during tele-conference meetings as 'Arun' to the snickers of my coworkers.

In the evening when I am at Tai-Chi class, Master Lim who doesn't speak English beckons me with his hand while calling out loud 'Alan' to the delight of my classmates.

Messenger or Charlatan?

2010-02-28T03:58:00.000-08:00

Today as I was walking on the street in Bangsar on my way to restring my tennis racket, a tall hefty man walked across my path. I was scarcely aware of his presence until he called to me after we passed each other: "You have a very lucky face, and don't worry April 2010 is a very lucky month for you!". I turned around and assessed the man, he had a pleasant confident air about him and he was well groomed and dressed. He pulled out a notepad and began jotting down some bits of information while introducing himself as an astrologer from India and producing a laminated business card. I didn't doubt the veracity of his statement, and my intuition told me to hear this man out. I thought back to the other 2 unplanned encounters with clairvoyants in my past, I thought to myself "it's about time I had another message".

He spoke a lot but I didn't quite capture all the details.

"You have a very, very lucky face", he looked at me more closely. "And you have a good heart". I was not impressed...

"2008, 2009 were not good for you." Yeah no kidding, wasn't there a global economic meltdown... "But don't worry, this April you will have 3 incidences of good fortune. PHS. Do you know what P.H.S is?" I shook my head. "Peace, Happiness and Success." He repeated again his message about April, he seemed completely certain that April was going to be a big important month for me. He then tore a piece of paper and rolled it into a ball and put it in my hand. He then asked me to name a flower, and pick a single digit number and say my age. I did so, and when I unrolled the paper all the information was in it.

He asked me for a donation and I gave him $10. He pleaded for more for his teacher whose picture of an old yogi he showed me. I told him no, I felt comfortable with that amount and I asked him for his number and name. He wrote down on a paper Surej - Yogi and a phone number, I told him that I would call him in May if his divination came true. I was impressed that the whole time he carried an air of absolute confidence.

Surej didn't walk away immediately. "Do you mind sir if I tell you your weakness? You have one weakness." I tensed a little, was he going to start chastising me for my love affairs? Instead he said, "You have good intentions but in a circle of friends when you are all seated you are too frank with your friends. That is why sometimes when you are in need of help, your friends are not coming to help." I nodded in agreement, this is true of me and I have known this. He could not have surmised this from the little I had said in this short time. Less reason to doubt this man.

After he left I felt elated but with each step my mind began to reason and cast it's shadow of doubt: This man must be a complete sham, likely he walks around town all day long telling random people April is their month and then impresses them with his parlor trick of foretelling the flower, single digit number and age. But then again, I do hold dear that April will bring glad tidings for me because I would be in between work contracts, traveling overseas and I had resolved to earnestly pursue opportunities abroad. Furthermore, as my journal entries attest since I began the Bright Path, that the years of 2008 and 2009 have been very challenging for me.

In the end I concluded that if this man is a fraudster then I must admire the artistry of the intelligent force that guided and timed his steps to cross paths with me on that day to bring me this message of goodwill that reinforces my expectations of the month to come. Then it becomes possible that this man is both a Messenger and a Charlatan.

Cooking Healthy

2010-02-26T23:52:00.000-08:00

I have three days off this weekend in honor of Prophet Mohammed's birthday. I'm supposed to be on my way to Hong Kong and California but I've postponed my trip at the request of my boss. I thought it over and decided that it would benefit me to remain 3 more weeks so I could meet with an associate who will be making a business trip from Sydney to Kuala Lumpur for a project I am involved with. I'm interested in the prospect of working in Sydney in the future.

I'm using these 3 days to do something I haven't done in years, something physiologically and gastronomically satisfying - cooking. What's compelled me to do so is the burden on my immune system that I feel lately from living in Kuala Lumpur. This burden is twofold - diet and air quality.

Being a bachelor with many pursuits I do not savor the idea of surrendering my precious time to be in the kitchen cooking for myself, so I eat out all the time. I do my best to make conscious choices and often hear the comment that I'm a healthy eater but I disagree, how can anyone that eats out all the time be a healthy eater when he is constantly ingesting the preservatives, additives, and excessive salt and sugar, that are all companion to commercially prepared cuisine. Also, there is the poor quality of the cheaper produce - less fresh and simply lower in nutritional content being sourced from topsoil depleted by over harvesting of single crops.

Lately my body has been in resistance to the food I ingest from restaurants. At the end of the lackluster meal my body would feel heavy instead of energized and light. I think this heightened sensitivity is due to an overall increased awareness of my body, mind and spirit the past couple of years.

And the air quality has been responsible for a constant feeling of being on the verge of a flu outbreak. It is not my imagination, one just has to look at the air or stick your tongue out to perceive the difference. I have friends that live in Singapore who complain about ailments either skin or respiratory in nature that befall them the moment they arrive in KL, these begin to dissipate immediately when returning home.

Yesterday I bought a vegetarian cookbook. I wanted to cook healthy dishes not typically found on menus and the obvious choice was vegetarian. I chose to make a stir-fry on egg noodles. I wanted something simple and quick; I wasn't going to attempt to outdo the kitchen staff at the Ritz Carlton on my first reacquaintance with the culinary arts. I also resolved to use as many organic ingredients as possible. The recipe called for baby corn, baby carrots, button mushrooms. The sauce was new to me, it called for a large orange and dry sherry to go with the standard oyster sauce. Coriander leaves to garnish.

It took me a long while in two supermarkets - one organic and the other non; but eventually I gathered all the ingredients. I wanted to quit about ten times. And the dish was cooked in a reasonable amount of time, typically in the past my cooking ventures involved at least half a day.

I invited my friend K to come and sample my cuisine, she had studied culinary arts and I figured her immune system would also appreciate a healthy meal. She came with 5 kinds of Haagen Daz ice cream to counterbalance the purity of the meal. She only heaped a small amount in her plate citing that she was still full from an earlier meal.

There is a sense of curiosity and dread that grips the cook on the verge of the first mouthful. I had only a vague idea of what this dish should taste like. To my relief and delight my senses applauded my creation from the first bite, it was my finest dish ever though one of the simplest. My body felt like it was dancing with joy by the end of the meal, it seemed long overdue and starved for proper nutrition that it could embrace wholeheartedly.

Oh, and K had seconds without complaint.

Visiting my Tai Chi Master

2010-02-23T21:42:00.000-08:00

I am leaving for the US on Friday, I intend to be gone for 3 weeks. Enroute I will be transit one night in Shenzhen at my parents place. I've never visited their home in Shenzhen, I'm curious to see this rapidly growing city that was just a fishing village a mere 40 years ago but now the fourth largest in China . But I am most looking forward to seeing my old dear friends again and then spending some time in Dallas visiting my younger brother whose wedding I missed in Fiji last year. I promised him I would make a trip to see him to make up for it. I'm also hoping to get some camping and mountaineering in around California or Utah with my good friend T whom I shall stay with in LA.

I asked my Tai Chi master, Master Lim, to allow me a private session to offset me falling behind in class for the 3 weeks that I'll be gone. His response was to visit each other's home first before he would decide.

Last night, he arrived at my apartment with 5 students/friends of mine from class and puttered about briefly. I showed him my collection of books and music . He gave a cursory perusal since he didn't understand the texts. Then I offered him some Oolong tea and he elected to make it himself with his usual elaborate ritual improvised with bowls and cups. After he finished his tea we all adjourned for dinner at a restaurant in his neighborhood and then we adjourned yet again to his flat.

When I walked through the door I was struck by how spartan his small humble abode was. The odor of old paper and a hint of incense hung in the air, instead of living room furniture his apartment contained shelves of books all in Chinese. In one section there were crates and display cases packed with clay teapots and tea cups. The walls were adorned with swords and photo portraits of 3 generations of masters. And by the window was an old wooden table with 4 stools for serving tea.

He gave me a tour of the place. In the kitchen there were no appliances, just more books. In the bed room, more books and a desk. In the back room... more books and another desk but this one was meant for his Chinese medical consultation practice. The man was also a certified Sifu i.e. traditional Chinese healer. He explained that his books were all related to Chinese history, philosophical, martial arts, medicinal or tea. I peered at one of the bindings since there were some English words on it, it said "24 leg attack styles of the Shao Lin". Impressive... His martial arts books were mainly sectioned according to Aikido, Tae Kwon Do, Tai Chi, Wu Shu or Shaolin fighting styles. I was told that Master Lim reads until 3 am on most nights, it was obvious that he had started from a young age. Despite not completing elementary school this man was extremely well informed and an expert on various Chinese subjects.

He invited the 5 of us to sit around his tea table and for the next hour and a half we chatted while he served 3 types of premium tea, some decades old. He was meticulous in his technique and criticized me for my boorish mannerisms- the way I held the cup, the speed that I drank the tea, for leaning toward the pot to smell the tea instead of bringing the pot to my nose. I was appreciative of the criticisims for I knew there were subtle lessons to be gained here. The grip of my hand on the tea cup was wasteful of energy and I could relate to how a tense grip impaired the quality of my shot in tennis.

Then he invited us to sit on the floor around a small TV and the slipped a DVD into the player. It was a martial arts exhibition that about 20 of his students performed at 'The Confucius School' in the city. As they stood in a semi-circular composition each man would step forth with a sort of bow and perform an dazzling display of a martial art routine with a particular sharp/blunt weapon for a few minutes and then retreat back to his place. One guy actually walked forward with a full-sized trident and another guy with a hand fan. Yes,... you can defeat a man with a paper hand-fan. But the guy that stole the show was the one that walked forward and placed a wooden bench on the stage. Was he going to break the bench? Sit on it? No, he picked it up and wielded it as a weapon for a few minutes doing his own routine of attacks and parries. Apparently in one of the thousand of books around me contained a martial art routine for defeating your opponent with a bench. It must come in handy when some jerk tries to steal your table in a noodle shop.

I left full of admiration for this small, composed unassuming man, not so much for his ability to sneak up on me and kill me with my own slipper before I knew it but more for the relentless passion which he pursued his interests and hobbies; and how in turn they had shaped him into a Master in so many areas of his life.

Rearranging furniture

2010-02-18T23:01:00.000-08:00

Last night I had a rough time sleeping because my mind would not stop rearranging the furniture in my friend's apartment. I normally sleep easily, I Ascend and then sleep comes quickly. But recently my father just quit his job at his company. He is now retired and yesterday I heard my parents speaking about money like it was life giving blood, a precious commodity in order to qualify oneself as alive. I was unsettled by what seemed to me as an attitude of scarcity.

With the end of expatriation, my parents are now leaving China and moving back to Malaysia. Though they didn't request it, I knew it would be time for me to move to a new place. I was quite content to do so, I've been missing a place of my own self-expression for a long time. The obvious choice was my best friend's apartment since he would be moving out around that time to a bigger home with the arrival of his third child.

There is also the shock that the center that I'm learning Tai Chi and yoga at is closing down at the end of this week. I've grown quite accustomed to that place, and I've made quite a few friendships with the instructors there. It's been a sort of refuge to interrupt the frenetic daily routine between work and home,... well really whenever it is raining and I cannot play tennis. Now I will seek to find a new place to learn yoga and Tai Chi. I intend to continue somehow with the Tai Chi instructor - Master Lee.

That residual seed of fear from the conversation earlier in the day must have taken root, and fertilized by the disconcerting news of the Tai Chi and yoga center closing down sprouted into a tree in my mind as I lay in bed . All the signs of an upheaval had me struggling with the sails of my ship, a storm had caught me and I suppose I was clamoring for landfall somewhere. No matter how much I tried to setup the furniture in my friend's apartment, it just never seemed to have the proper arrangement for me.

I wonder if this means it is not my destiny to be living at my friend's apartment.

Chinese New Year, happy for some

2010-02-13T05:16:00.000-08:00

Today is the eve of both Valentines Day and Chinese New Year. This year the astrology is such for these events coincide. There are four days off beginning today, the city has wound down as many in the city have returned to their places of origin as the Chinese families reunite. It is a sort of Thanksgiving but for the Chinese. It is nice to observe the family outings at this time of year, you will tend to see multiple generations of a family mingling; the elders will be out and about and often dressed in traditional attire, being assisted by the younger family members.

I have opted to stay in the city and cherish the more sedentary pace, the downtempo is a rare treasure. And this year my older brother, sister-in-law and mother are here in KL. My younger brother is too far to make the journey and my father's plans to be here were thwarted by last minute work demands. This year once again I shall not romance anyone on this important day for lovers, and this is not for any want of willing companions. Instead I have decided to take my mother out for Valentine's Day for the first time. I hate to see my mother alone for this day.

Actually, what inspires this post is a friend and co-worker of mine whom I had written about 4 months ago when her father passed away. Today I received news from her that on the eve of the celebration of the New Year, her sister was found dead in her room. In customary fashion, I grasped for words of consolation and wisdom but I this time the words felt meaningless and I felt somewhat hollow. What's the point of repeating something said before, and does she really need to hear the same remarks from someone so removed from the frequency and magnitude of her losses. For me it was a reminder that there is suffering that cannot be avoided and you can't even assume that it would be kind enough to wait for you to get on your feet from the first knock down. Dare I offer the reason for another loss was that she hadn't yet learned to cherish her loved ones, it would seem a slap in the face. Nay, there is no enlightenment nor any reasoning that lightens the burden of this bereavement.

This is what I text messaged her as she drove through tears back to her hometown, battling the brutal traffic delays. I do not attempt to beguile you of your bereavement but I offer these words for these are the words I speak from my heart and I would want to hear spoken when the day comes that my own loved one is wrenched from this lifetime:

"You can't make sense of the timings of these events. It's really fucked up from our point of view to go through this amount of grief but when we leave this life we shall know that truly our tears fall only for the living. And when we see how temporal each life is in the scheme of eternity we will smile. And when we find that what we had lost was always there we will rejoice.

Go through your pain with your family for now, I promise you will smile again. Hugs"

Helping Out

2010-02-12T22:21:00.000-08:00

Two days ago I received in the mail a letter package from WorldVision, it was sent in response to a form I filled out to sponsor a child. I was allowed to choose the country from a shortlist and I chose Myanmar because it seemed exotic and there are a lot of Burmese foreign workers here in Malaysia. I see them daily in the grounds around my apartment complex toiling away as cleaners, they work hard and do their job well. In many other parts of the city they wait on tables.

I had seen this child sponsorship on TV years before but never acted on it before because of my skepticism. It is a convenient excuse to avoid responsibility. What if not all the money makes it to the child,... what if it's a scam and there are people profiting from it. And so, my conscience was shielded by the hardened shell of my judgments and opinions. I came across the idea again because of the girl sitting next to me at work, she had for years now been sponsoring a child and she had even visited the child a few years back. WorldVision will actually on occasion make such arrangements so the sponsor can see the difference their funds are making to the child and community overall.

In the package I am given a photo of the 3 year old girl, her name is Zin Zin. A leaflet describing her circumstance, a child sponsorship guidebook, and a brochure of gifts that you can purchase for the underprivileged. From the short synopsis I see that she lives in Kawthaung township near the Thai border. It is a transit area into Thailand and problems such as HIV and trafficking are prevalent. Pop. 92,000. Zin Zin herself is of satisfactory health, has no handicaps, and her chores are to run errands for her parents whom she lives with. Her father is an odd job worker and she has one brother.

Looking inside the gift brochure you see these are not your usual token gifts, instead for a small price these gifts bear significant impact on the standard of living; for instance, a possible package for Vietnam is a "Farmer's Starter Kit" - 5 chicks, 5 ducklings and 1 Kg of vegetable seeds. If the recipient is in Azerbaijan then you can purchase an eye surgery kit to equip surgeons with the tools they need and so on.

I've been gleefully announcing to my friends that I'm now a Father. It really throws them off and this may be the only occasion that I can get away with that white lie so I'm using it almost every opportunity. I'm already having visions of Zin Zin and I meeting one day, it is nice knowing that somewhere on this planet you exist in a child's mind as a hero of sorts. And more importantly, this child will grow up remembering the standing goodness of a person that contributed to her welfare for nothing in return other than his own healing.

Que Es Verdad?

2010-02-10T04:09:00.000-08:00

What if...

All our suffering were based on lies. Lies that began in the Garden of Eden thousands of years ago. Lies that were told by the Prince of Lies living in the Tree of Knowledge. For on that day, we learned to judge ourselves and in doing so, we separated ourselves from God. We lost sight of the goodness, and began to believe in lies that began to live us as robots for in believing the lies we were too afraid to live authentically as the rest of Nature, we put on our images and were ashamed of our nakedness. Lies that perpetuate themselves through millenia, passed on from generation to generation breeding conflict. But the conflict is not between Good and Evil as we have been told to believe, but rather between Truth and what is not Truth. And what is not Truth? Almost every one of the thousands of thoughts that we unconcsiously create in our minds every day and reinforce as our personal truth by the filters of our perceptions, the ones that lead us to feel anxiety, depression, anger, jealousy, shame, guilt... unceasingly. When the mind is peaceful, when the thinking stops, we experience the Truth,... we are no longer blinded in that moment.

What did Jesus mean by "The Kingdom of Heaven is within you"? Why did he say "The Truth shall set you Free?"...

We are born in Truth, we only know of it as an infant. When we die, we return to it. In between is the 'Dream of Society', the Voice of Knowledge that rooted itself in us sprouting like a tree in the Garden of Eden. The source of ALL human conflict.

I have realized that we can return to experience Truth. There are 'doorways' whereby the veil woven thick by the incessant stream of unconscious thinking is moved aside, certain music creates this for me. I recognize that my very first posting on The Bright Path alluded to this, but I didn't know the term to connect it with. Somehow a bigger Self could breathe in those moments, but they were as they are still for me... fleeting. Since that first post I have grown in awareness and thus lessons of life were recognized - insults became insights. And I am grateful for the stewardship of 'Masters' through their books through which I now have labels now to attach as pointers to that which words failed me.

But I have also recognized over the months of more or less concerted quest, that we can move our point of reference 'closer' to Truth. In have experience of two, we can choose the tradition of the ancient Toltecs... to simply not believe (see The Complete Idiots Guide to Toltec Wisdom). Simply refuse to believe every bit of suffering, what is the underlying belief that is leading to my suffering, it is called 'Stalking the Mind'. Once I recognize the thought and maybe even the point in time that this belief was born, I can then choose to disbelieve it. What happens with continual rejection is that the mind gradually is tamed, it no longer runs you like a wild horse, instead you are now holding the reins. As it shuts up more, like a child whose tantrum is being ignored, there are fewer thoughts, greater periods of silent lucidity.

Another way,... is to replace the downward thought with an uplifting i.e. Truthful thought. If you find it hard to disbelieve the lies, then why not replace the thoughts with an Upward thought. And this refers to Ascension. In this tradition, you Ascend with eyes closed, and think the Upward thoughts, there are only a handful of them and they resonate within to dissolve the stress lodged in us born of the lies we accumulate of ourselves and others over the years. They resonate this way to free us because these select thoughts ARE statements of Truth. This is done both with eyes closed and your eyes open during the normal waking activites of the day.

Another way,... is through isolation and rigorous discipline such as that practiced by many monastic traditions over the years. And there are mantras for this, and other techniques to quieten the thoughts. I have no experience of this and cannot comment on it. The rigorous path of the Yogi is also deemed another way of increasing awareness; and though I practice yoga regularly I do not study it in depth since such teachers are scarce here.

As the Truth of our nature emerges as reality born of experience, and this Truth can only ever be known through experience not passed on as thoughts or known through reading about it and forming beliefs, hence the need for parables to describe it by a certain famous Master 2000 years ago... then we discover that we have always been so much more than we hold ourselves to be, that enormous potential lies untapped yet waiting to be accessed by the new awareness. The Toltecs used the term 'Mastery of Intent' as the process to use this abundance that resides in us and perform miracles,... well, what WE would consider miracles today. Until this is experienced without intervention of the mind, it remains a distant theory and idealistic construct.

In the emerging frontiers of science Consciousness is now being given recognition it has long deserved for its role in the creative process of our physical reality. There are experiments that have been done with astounding results (see The Intention Experiment). It behooves us then to make a dedicated effort to journey inward and clean up the junk i.e. the self-defeating, disempowering hidden beliefs that undermine who we truly are and keep us enslaved and easily influenced. This is a task on my path, I have asked to learn and life has taught me in return. There is so much more to discover.

Wow

2010-01-14T19:03:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to the passport office in another fruitless attempt to conclude an endless series of visits to renew my passport. Over the past 3 months I've literally been there about a dozen times, so that now I think I can drive my car down the winding ramps to the visitor underground parking on level P5 by muscle memory. Ordinarily renewing the passport is automated and takes one day. But I have this curse... I am cursed to suffer in all matters of immigration.

The curse was first realized many many years ago during my university days in Vancouver when my friend's dog made her way into my school bag drawn by the scent of a beef sandwich. Incredibly, the mutt found the taste of my immigration papers that I had kept in my bag more appealing than the sandwich itself. Two thirds of the document was in her belly before I knew something was amiss, while the sandwich was untouched.

I remember that process to replace that document. It took months to replace it because somehow, the process of replacing those papers mysteriously got stalled somewhere in Ottawa. I had to make a visit to the immigration office again after 2 months to inquire about it since I needed the papers to enlist in the Canadian military as a reservist. That delay meant I missed the enrollment for that summer. And that summer instead of learning about armored reconnaissance, I had met my first girlfriend in a nightclub.

Eventually those papers were replaced. The best the Canadian authorities could do was to provide me with a signed photocopy of the original which by then was fertilizing my friend's backyard. And so, the shady appearance of the replacement immigration papers would torment me on many occasions as I traversed the borders into the United States. Each time I tried to explain the photocopy along with the mangled torn corner of the original, the US immigration officer or airline check-in person would typically look at me with an incredulous look that said "yeah, right buddy, couldn't you have come up with a more compelling story?". I actually missed a flight once to return to California because the US embassy, being closed on a Sunday, could not corroborate that the document was valid.

But even when this document became obsolete by the issue of a work VISA, my cross-border harassment would persist. There was that time when my friendly US immigration officer by the name of Gao sought to get to know me intimately, and once again I missed my flight.

As for the current entanglement, I had applied for a new passport in order to attend my younger brother's wedding ceremony taking place in Fiji. I had given myself 3 weeks to get this done, turns out it was not enough. They wanted a whole month because my passport had been damaged by water. I'll take some responsibility for that part, I had inadvertently put it in the laundry. But I think the curse made me do it.

So, thus began a series of visits with lots of ticket pulling, every visit begins with a number on a piece of paper. I wrote a letter of appeal to expedite the process, and then there were interviews, they wanted to see the wedding invitation, then there were phone calls to follow up... more visits... by then I had gotten to know one female officer in charge of my case like family. So it felt natural to tell her in half-jest, half-desperation, that I'd bring her to the wedding with me in Fiji if she could just get the passport to me on time. Alas, it was not to be. Maybe she didn't like weddings, or the sun and clear blue waters; but in the end, I missed my brother's wedding. It was the most bitter moment of 2009 for me.

For over a month I avoided the passport office, then starting a couple of weeks ago I began the trips again. The ensuing visits were often a waste of time - obscenely long lines, counters closed for the day, I forgot the collection receipt, etc. Gradually, almost miraculously, the process reached the final stage, the passport was ready for pickup. But when I went yesterday to collect it with my collection receipt firmly in hand,... my ID was not in my wallet. A meltdown followed, the histrionics included me wanting the curse to materialize so I could go 12 rounds in the boxing ring with it. I simply couldn't find my ID anywhere.

Today I took the day off work to handle a police report for my lost ID, then apply for a new ID, then pickup the passport with my temporary replacement ID AND register a personal business. All involving government offices and worse, on a Friday, which meant a half-day since the offices would be closed earlier for muslim prayers. After the experience with the passport office, I was anticipating a nightmare of a day, maybe even a week or month.

But today, the light was shining on me brightly. There were no obstacles at all. The police officers were kind, and later, the ID office was not overrun by a mob, in fact it was quite modern and relaxing. After the fiasco with the passport office, this place seemed like the First Class lounge for Virgin Airlines. Believe it or not, in a matter of 90 minutes, I had knocked off ALL the items on the agenda save for the business registration.

Sustainable Development

2010-01-14T06:35:00.000-08:00

Are we going to make it as a species?

Last weekend I was invited to attend a gathering to raise awareness about Sustainable Development. After reading "Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight" by Thom Hartmann, I've been drawn to this subject. There were many performances and speeches at the gathering by young adults, one in particular was quite clever - a percussion performance using recycled items. For me, this video shown was stirring enough to warrant this post. It was given in 1992 by a 12 year old girl at the UN earth summit. I am glad to be able to share the video here.

And this movie is also worth your while - HOME.

Here's a thought that occurred to me today. When was the last time any of us touched our planet? I mean physically touched it perhaps by walking barefoot or reaching out to a tree, putting our toes in the ocean. I haven't for a while now... I am guilty of taking this planet for granted. My own home.

The Law of Attraction

2010-01-14T05:40:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I never thought I'd be unmarried at my age. But the future has a way of eluding our imagination. I don't feel much unease about being unmarried, instead I am grateful for the greater opportunity to learn about relationships between men and women or the masculine and feminine. And believe me, how my opinions have evolved over the years as I go through my experiences. I will reserve these findings for another post.

For most of my life I've felt the urge to avoid loneliness, maybe I still do and instead the loneliness is being replaced by aloneness. For these days I feel the aloneness as a gift, particularly when I am in true pursuit of my highest calling or simply put enlightened knowing. In my heart I know that she and I will meet. For it would be quite tragic to go through all this inner work without sharing with someone the fruits of a fearless love. In truth, my desire for that higher place attainable by two hearts has been some of the impetus for The Bright Path.

As a child I remember my desire for that intense union with the feminine. A heady yearning of an young eager untarnished heart enflamed by enchantment spun by pop songs on the radio. As night I would dream as I listened to the songs carried by vivid imagery - the long goodbye at the train station in summer rain, the dizzying first kiss outside the dance hall as the music plays, on a blanket on a grassy knoll undressing her on a sunny spring day and the warm breeze carrying the scent of lilac... I've known the scent of her hair, smell of her skin etc. so many times. Gradually that dream turned into fantasy as I stumbled through my relationships; and then eventually the fantasy too was forgotten, overshadowed by the belief that I was not worthy of Her.

So I've felt I've needed to clean up some things inside, believe once again in my worthiness. It cannot be found until I've at least liked who I am, and dare I say love who I am. And so, this has been the focus of the work of removing the fears and limiting beliefs. From the outside nothing much has changed about my life, yet on the inside I feel as though mountains have shifted. The fears are diminished, the inner Judge rebuked and the inner child awakened. For as long as I can remember, only now I feel attractive. I am worthy, I can feel it because at last I believe it. Wait for me, I will find you.

Twas the night before Christmas

2009-12-24T03:33:00.000-08:00

Here it is upon me once again that time of year when the days seem compressed into a frenzy of purchases crammed into an already overloaded routine of work, personal and family life. Once again my family has gathered from around the world here in Midvalley except for my younger brother who is celebrating with his new wife in Texas where they live. Both of my brothers married in this year.

And once again the decorations festoon, the carols play to herald the acknowledgement of the birth of Jesus the Son of Man. And who is He? Well, there are many versions, many opinions and mine has evolved though my respect and admiration for the man has not waned. He is to me, my most cherished bringer of the Light to the world. To light the way, to awaken and free us from slavery and blindness. The Good News is here.

And yet this year, personally I have a detachment from Christmas. This year I am not swept away in the euphoria or is it the insanity of the advent season as the rest of this society seems to have been from my vantage point living here in the heart of the most popular shopping center in all of the country - a place I commonly refer to as 'MadValley" instead of 'Midvalley'.

Nay, this year perhaps it is the burden of my job here in Malaysia that has increased in weight upon my shoulders as the year draws close, a frantic hustle dealing with issues constantly leaves me numb and frayed. I've worked through most weekends this month. The difference in working environments between Asia and North America has been indelibly impressed upon me by now.

Or perhaps it is the barrage of the mob of the shoppers that force their way into Midvalley, my dining ventures into the masses feels like a minnow dodging a school of grown tuna. And surely also a factor, this observation that as the size of the masses grows the more absurd Christmas has become. As with things that become rote, the spirit is lost in the doing. It has become mandated by some higher power that I suspect to be capitalist, that on this day all people who have a concern for their reputation or stake in their job shall make purchases for people that they often barely know, buying them things they don't really want with money and time that they don't really have. And the wheels of the economy grind a few more degrees as our consumerism reaches new heights...

Sitting in my car attempting to come home from a long day at work but caught in an outrageous jam of shoppers, I wondered to what extent can this mass spectacle be drawn? With exploding population growth, everyone doing the same thing on the same day is bound to have its physical limits. So this year I have chosen to rebel and step out of the mob as much as I can. It is my contribution to the rest of the crowd to allow them more room. I shall risk that my friends relatives will continue to love me just the same if I do not produce a wrapped gift on Xmas day. Forgive me that the ever mounting burden of a job and scarcity of space and time both current trends of modern society at large has burgeoned to finally displace tradition. Is the material worth of an item given truly a measure of how much someone means to you? Not likely but we have been programmed to believe so at some level.

Perhaps in the future when a less frantic pace of life and less hampered place of living once again is my fortune then perhaps a return to the simple celebration of being with loved ones without undue distractions shall once again be.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night...

My Perfect Day

2009-12-21T06:31:00.000-08:00

Today passed perfectly. The weather, temperature, wind speed, the amount of clouds and humidity. My clothes seemed to fit like they were tailored; and portrayed the inner me accurately. The amount of work didn't seem too overwhelming, I quickly kept on top of it effectively knocking off tasks quickly and correctly. The amount of rush hour traffic on the road was ideal because of the holiday season. People seemed to be less harried in general. There were no negative thoughts burdening me. And it didn't rain when I left work, just a gentle breeze and pleasant fading sunshine. What a difference, a big contrast to the past few weeks. I can't recall a working day going this smoothly and perfectly for such a long time. I've been working through too many weekends and feeling raw from the relentless pace of work, being micro-managed to the point of feeling like an administrative assistant. I've not ever wanted to run from a job until lately. Having a day such as today was a comforting reminder that there is still a sane level of existence, that truly nothing lasts.

Lessons from my cousin

2009-12-13T05:55:00.000-08:00

I've been spending the weekend with my 13 year old cousin - E. She came to stay with me and my mother who is herself staying the month because of the holiday season. She has this quality of curiosity, innocence and sweetness that is so compelling.

Maybe it is her age, but she strikes me as someone that doesn't question her worthiness to be loved, it is refreshing to spend time with someone as such. Having her around has affected the ambience at home, now the energy at home seems fresher and more dynamic, like a window left open on a spring day. I enjoy interacting with her, she sees the world so differently. There are minimal assumptions on her part, and she catches humor and irony in many situations that adults tend to overlook. I suppose in that way she reminds me of The Little Prince. For example, when the 3 of us were sitting at a restaurant and 3 servers came to serve me my beer that I had ordered, she remarked how absurd it was. "One to hold the bottle opener, one to hold the beer and one to speak", she laughed. The novelty of the situation had escaped me entirely, perhaps I was too preoccupied with crafting an intelligent and refined manner. And when she laughs, it is unrestrained and infectious without any undertones nor is there any no pause whatsoever to assess the appropriateness of it.

E is incredibly gifted in music. She is a prodigy in that sense if I ever met one. In fact I have admired all my cousins on my mother's side for their talent for music, it seems they picked it up overnight and I have been envious of their magical creative expressions. It is SO nourishing for the spirit to do so. To me, musicians are also magicians for ability to change the composure of a space magically and instantly. I can imagine that doing so is like methamphetamine for the soul, it's almost unfair to everyone else seeking that sort of contentment. Yet, E stands out from my talented cousins - she learned the organ a few years ago and had performed on TV.

And then a month ago, she picked up the guitar and taught herself how to play it. She gave us a performance of some Taylor Swift and Xmas carols, but what really moved me was a song that she had composed herself. I could only listen and bask in the purity of her creation, her voice doused out the din of the rest of the world.

Yesterday we stopped at 7-11 on the way to the tennis court. She carried her guitar so she could practice her songs while I practiced some tennis serves. As we stood at the cash register, I encouraged her to perform her song in front of the two service clerks. Initially shy and reluctant, but then as she strummed the guitar, a connection instantly occurred between us - I felt precisely the same smile of gratitude, joy and wonder that was written on their faces. It was a sort of miracle. And later as I practiced my tennis serves, I felt so proud of her for I knew that her song was being carried to the open windows of the tenants surrounding the tennis court.

I took her to a Karaoke at the mall because she had never been to one. We had a grand time singing our hearts out to all kinds of songs. Then as we walked home through the mall she grabbed my hand so we could walk hand-in-hand, my immediate reaction was how this might be misperceived and I found myself looking for an innocuous moment to slip my hand out of her grasp. Then I came to my senses over how foolish I was being, this was my typical reaction whenever any sort of girl held my hand and yet here was my own dear cousin. I realized that the time was not far off when my cousin would no longer reach for my hand, once she had 'grown up'. So I held her hand with gratitude and felt loved as we walked home.

I had an opportunity to have an uninterrupted conversation with her after a swim one Saturday morning. As we sat on the deck chairs under an umbrella, I took the chance to speak some words of wisdom hoping to imbue a sense of responsibility and heightened consciousness in her. Things I had learned from books, life and that I wish I had been told when I was her age. I think the only things that she really got from me was: "just because everyone thinks something, it doesn't make it true", and she could readily understand my lengthy discourse on how important it was for us to live in harmony with nature. She listened without interruption, with undivided attention. I wondered if I was perhaps marring her innocence with the heaviness of the topics I was sharing and so I stopped after awhile. I suddenly felt old... and for the first time it occurred to me that my cousin could have been my daughter. I was actually that much older than her, funny... it had never dawned on me before.

Now that she's left, I've realized that my 13 year old cousin imparted me more knowledge about living than I did to her about life. And it was all just from her BEING - simple invaluable lessons in how to brighten ones path. Live freely, play/create/listen to music as much as you can, laugh without restraint, be fearless, love and do not doubt that you are loved always.

Her song...

Catching up with an old friend

2009-12-13T04:56:00.000-08:00

Until today my friend J and I had not met for a few years. We've known each other since we were 10 years old and were very close as kids. Our families were good friends.

He moved to California before I did; and there he met a lovely girl and married her. I had the fortune of attending their wedding in California since I had moved there by then. When his work permit could not be renewed easily he and H left for England to work for awhile before returning to Malaysia.

I had not seen them since until I was startled at a restaurant near my work during lunch break last week. A woman standing beside my table called my name and I didn't recognize her until she told me hers. And then it became quite obvious that I should recognize her, she was J's wife. She too worked in the area and was on her lunch break. We exchanged numbers and this afternoon we all met for lunch along with their 2 year old son.

Catching up I learned that J had quit his job a year ago and lost 15 kg in the 2 months bracketing that occasion because he was consumed by the stress of the life altering decision. "I couldn't endure a job that seemed to go nowhere. I had always felt that there was more for me", he said. A part of him felt unfulfilled and he couldn't ignore it any longer. Hearing him say that reminded me of what compelled me to leave California in the first place.

And so now he was working full time on a novel and looked well - happy. I was surprised, I had known J was creative from the romantic artwork and poetry he had crafted around his apartment in California largely dedicated to his wife. I had looked at it and used to wonder if I could ever meet someone who inspired me to such degree. But I had not known he had a passion for writing. Apparently he didn't ever think he could write in volume either, he admitted. But the fictional piece that he was working on was something he was so passionate about that he loathed to spend any time away from it. I envied him saying that. "Another one breaks free to live from his heart and chase his dreams", I thought to myself. I then felt abashed over how I had been consumed once again by the grind of a job that served to further enrich vastly over-paid executives.

I asked him what the topic was and he said that it was about long distance running and then added almost reluctantly that it was also of romantic love. "But it's not a romance, romance novel", he insisted. It bothered him when people instantly categorized it as such. It impressed me that he was writing this book, I knew he was not a runner by any loose use of the term. It didn't daunt him. "It's like as though the story just comes through me", he explained. I knew what he was speaking about, there were some blogs I had written that seemed to be channeled rather than originating from me.

As we parted ways, we agreed to get together once in awhile to work. I thought it to be a great way to spend time with someone at a cafe with our laptops, him working on his novel and me blogging or working the job.

Tai Chi updated

2009-12-08T04:05:00.000-08:00

For over a month now I've been practicing Tai Chi daily. I had been looking to get into Tai Chi ever since my first exposure to it in New Zealand but it had seemed rather inaccessible to me until the yoga studio that I practice at started offering it a few months back.

Prior to joining this class, I had tried to learn with a private Tai Chi instructor but it didn't quite work out. There were two reasons for this, one was the language barrier and the other was that it just didn't seem like Tai Chi. I tried 3 lessons then gave up, I remember having to check each at each lesson to confirm that he was teaching Tai Chi because it really seemed more like ballet or ballroom dancing. At one point, we were literally dancing arm around each other and he was telling me in broken English that I was 'the girl', I think it was at that moment that I decided to quit.

Now, I have access to a class with other beginner participants. It's also nice to expand into a new circle of friends. One of them is passionate about tea and he's been trained by the Tai Chi master in the art of Chinese tea ceremony. He seems to have a long standing relationship with Master Lim as his protege, he clearly adulates the man. "Master Lim only learned until Grade 2, but he is an expert on Chinese history, tea, Tai Chi and Chinese medicine", he said once. And so I held a tea ceremony in my apartment a few days ago with some of the classmates. It lasted a few hours, there were many kinds of tea, and it was a great way to socialize around a table.

Tai Chi means "Ultimate Form" and it originated over a thousand years ago in China. It was initiated as a means of self-defense for monks or spiritual folk in general since they were otherwise often trounced by bandits as easy prey. The routine I am learning in the long Chuan style and it has 108 steps in it. We've covered only a fraction of them.

I practice it every morning right after my Ascension; it helps to still the mind, and increase my body awareness and balance. I always start with some Chi Kung as a warm-up to get the Chi moving. 'Chi' becomes more of a fixture of reality as I awaken it through Chi Kung and Tai Chi.

From the outside it doesn't appear to be much, it is not impressive to look at nor does it seem to serve much purpose - it is "stillness in motion". Some mornings I even find myself wanting to skip the practice because I am short of time, it seems to be the easiest way to make more time if I did so. But I've learned that the things that appear most insignificant tend to have the largest impact and TaiChi falls into that. Over this time, I have grown in confidence, poise, focus and all areas of my life are enhanced - sports, professionally, relationships, sexually.

Let There Be Fresh Air

2009-12-01T04:47:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I had a confrontation at work with the office administrator over the quality of the air in my department. The encounter highlighted for me a general difference in the cultures of the East and West.

For 2 weeks the air in my department had steadily degraded since the number of users frequenting the smoking room had jumped due to the displacement of personnel affected by renovations throughout the various departments. To make matters worse, the extraction fan in the smoking room had broken down a while back and it was not repaired. It came to a point where my office smelled like a night club. My coworkers and I were feeling progressively ill throughout each day and our repeated emails to the O.A. were being ignored.

With the approval of my manager I moved into a different department where I had access because of my collaboration on two projects. I seated myself amongst the other team members where there was a non-assigned seat available, in fact I seated myself literally next to an air-purifying machine and was pleased with the cleaner air.

It didn't take long for me to catch the attention of the O.A. and his right-hand man. They pounced on me at my new desk and berated loudly me at length over how I was breaking company policy with this new choice of seating. I reminded them that this was temporary until the renovations were complete and if I needed a higher authority to approve then I would; I then countered with, "now that we are speaking face to face, I'd like to know what is being done about the air quality in my regular work area?". His response was to be curt and dismissive, calling it a "minor issue" to him and did I actually expect things to be resolved immediately? "I expected at least some kind of acknowledgement on your part that you received my request, some kind of assurance that it would be addressed at some point", I answered. It galled me to hear him, I knew that the O.A. had knowledge of this issue from months back when the fan quit.

After the heated exchange, my access to the area was revoked in a matter of a few minutes. I half-expected that to happen out of spite but I had not expected a security person to be summoned to pressure me to vacate the desk. I did not comply to this either. I assured this fellow that I would get approval from the general manager of the division, for according to him that was how high I needed to go for a simple temporary change in seating. It all seemed very absurd, and though unsettled, in my heart I felt justified to remain where I was since I was among teammates and I had the support of the manager of the area I was sitting in.

Over lunch a coworker from my old carcinogenic work area informed me that the smoking room had been shut down and locked by the O.A. and the air was already improving - finally! The long awaited relief among my coworkers brought assurance that I had done the right thing.

Later that same day, my access card was restored and the O.A. confronted me in the kitchenette; he seemed like a difference person, full of apology and very remorseful to the point that I actually felt uneasy. He never realized how bad the situation actually was. I kept assuring him that things were cool, it dawned on me that this was a man that had at last come to his senses and realized what a poor situation he had put himself in by being negligent in his duty and then revoking my access without proper cause. I could see that he certainly didn't want me going to the G.M. pleading my case for my rights.

It was a small step on my part, but it led to a big outcome and no one had to lose anything. I'm no Rosa Parks but there are times to make a stand, however insignificant it may seem at the time. It was a valuable learning experience.

The only tired I was, was tired of giving in. - Rosa Parks

In Celebration of Life

2009-11-13T21:34:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, my friend K whom I had helped a few months back called me to announce that she has been stricken with another round of cancer of the blood. This girl is only 23 years old and she runs her own charity organization for kids with cancer at a particular hospital. Needless to say she was upset, the memory of the pains and hardships to barely overcome the first cancer left her demoralized and in a defeated tone she told me that she didn't have the strength to go through this again - she was prepared for the worse.

A week ago I called her up and we setup a lunch appointment. As we dined on our Japanese food, I looked at K properly. I was impressed by what I saw; she had quit smoking for 2 months and was swimming regularly. The treatment was painful and expensive, essentially injecting clean blood into bone marrow in her right leg every week. But apart from her sore leg which left her with a noticeable limp, you couldn't perceive any other symptoms. To be quite honest, I had never seen her looking so beautiful and healthy. I pointed it out to her and told her that the crisis has looked like a huge blessing more than anything else so far.

She told me that she had just returned from Australia, her best friend has arranged for her to return to Sydney and spend time with her family for her birthday. K still lives in MAlaysia while her family resides in Sydney. Unbeknownst to K, this best friend had also called on K's old friends that she had not seen in years because they had moved overseas to different countries. Best friend told them K's predicament and her friends agreed to travel to Sydney and surprise her on her birthday.

K said that the first few days she was in Sydney were spent doing the things she had enjoyed when she lived there - surfing, climbing, walking along the beach etc. Things that she hadn't done in ages since living in KL and taking on the all consuming life of a corporate worker toiling in the city. My heart clenched as I heard this, I knew precisely what she was speaking of.

On the day of her birthday the weather was sunny. Her best friend had organized a BBQ in the backyard and K assumed it was nothing more than a quiet small gathering. Gradually at different intervals, a long unseen friend would show up at the door. "All that food piled on the BBQ and then there were my dear friends whom I had not seen in ages gathered around from all over... it was the happiest day of my life". I could picture it well, her friends casting goodwill and just celebrating K being alive and nothing else. What a beautiful occasion. Strong emotions washed through me as I recalled my friends in California gathering to bid me farewell. I missed them dearly too, I knew of the powerful impact to suddenly have them show up out of love in such a way. K told me, "I found the strength to fight this now, I know again why life is worth living."

An interesting fact

2009-11-02T06:56:00.000-08:00

"If you had put $10,000 into stocks of companies with the highest paid CEOs of the previous year from January 1991 to December 2004, you would have ended up with only $8,079, while the same money invested in the S& P 500 would have returned you $48,530 - that is six times as much." - William Bonner and Lila Rajiva - 'Mobs, Messiahs and Markets'.

Source: http://www.faireconomy.org/press/2005/EE2005.pdf

This found me at an appropriate time

2009-10-27T04:08:00.000-07:00

"In the name of the best within you,

do not sacrifice this world to those who are its worst.

In the name of the values that keep you alive,

do not let your vision of man be distorted by the ugly,

the cowardly, the mindless in those who have never achieved his title.

Do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture,
an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads. Do not let your fire go out,
spark by irreplaceable spark,
in the hopeless swamps of the approximate,
the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all.

Do not let the hero in your soul perish,
in lonely frustration for the life you deserved,
but have never been able to reach.
Check your road and the nature of your battle.
The world you desired can be won,
it exists, it is real, it is possible, it's yours." - Ayn Rand

Rollerskates ON/OFF

2009-10-26T03:04:00.000-07:00

It just occurred to me with enough pause to write it out in the midst of some closed eyed Ascension. On the days that I don't Ascend, it feels like I'm on roller-skates making my way through the slippery steep slopes of San Francisco, scenes flash by in a blur and I duck my head several times and flail my arms just to stay on my feet long enough to come crashing into my bed by the end of the day.

Step into the NOW and the roller blades come off your feet.

Vilja is Baptised

2009-10-25T03:39:00.000-07:00

Today is a significant day for me, I am becoming a Godfather to a little baby girl named Vilja. This ceremony is taking place thousands of miles away in Norway; and the baby is the first child of a dear friend that I met on the Camino last year - Marion. She is one of the two sisters that I spent a few days walking together towards Santiago. God I miss those days...

At her request, I scanned and emailed my wish for Vilja so that Marion could print it and attach it to a little white helium balloon to be released as part of the ceremony. In recognition of our time on this earth as a journey and in the context of the Camino.I wrote:

"May all your arrows point to the Light. Buen Camino young beautiful pilgrim."

It is beginning to be understood by modern science that Consciousness influences matter and our thoughts know no boundaries. In fact, thoughts occur instantaneously everywhere the moment they form. So, at the appointed hour I did some meditation and in that sense I was present for Vilja's Baptism.

Quote of the Week

2009-10-23T20:55:00.001-07:00

"Nothing is so firmly believed as that which we least know." - Michel de Montaigne

A relationship experiment

2009-10-19T07:24:00.000-07:00

I have recently begun a new relationship and to ease things after being single for a while I've restricted my selection to just plants for now. Baby steps. Plants are easy to love, they will accept you even more unconditionally than animals who in turn accept you more unconditionally than humans. So, really plants are the ideal living partner and they help purify the air.

Last weekend I walked into the supermarket here at Midvalley and browsed the plant section looking for that special plant. And I found her after brief appraisal of numerous candidates, I felt certain that the one I had chosen would satisfy me more than all the others. So I stood in line at the checkout counter with my little plant... honestly I almost backed out but instead I held my resolve and soon I was walking home with her in hand proudly showing her off trying not to spill any of the water in her round glass bowl. She is of the sort where there is no soil to sustain her, she simply is weighed down in water by a few pebbles. As I walked home, I could feel my heart welling with pride and love for... JP. Yes, I named her JP because every other name seemed too human. JP stands for Jelly Plant as it says on the price tag right above $19.50.

It must seem absurd to consider a plant for a relationship. But if you've read The Little Prince you will understand, for The Little Prince so dearly loved a flower on his planet. In the exchange of dialogue with the fox on our planet earth, The Little Prince reveals that "You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed". It could be said that I have now tamed my plant by taking it home.

It may seem odd, but I do truly believe that there is an exchange of love that takes place between all living beings if you allow it and that rediscovering this relationship with nature is key to our sustainability as a species on this planet. For too long now this current civilization and past ones have sought to dominate and control nature through our intellect, when this is coupled by mankind's viewpoint of seeing ourselves separate from nature it is a recipe for disaster. We are already observing the long term repercussions of such in our changing climates and shrinking resources while the global population of our species continues to explode.

JP really brightens up a room, so I keep her on my desk at work and I introduce her to my coworkers as my new relationship. To which they typically respond with a puzzled expression "oh"... and then carry on walking.

The Little Prince

2009-10-17T06:18:00.000-07:00

I've been neglecting my Blog. I've been of the opinion that nothing has transpired as to be worth blogging about because my life has become too ordinary and routine. But it is really an excuse, there are no ordinary moments. But it is our automated responses that make our lives seem mundane.

A friend and coworker of mine remarked recently that The Bright Path should continue... "it is like being aware of a different world". It touched me to hear this. It is precisely what I've been trying to convey with this blog - THERE IS ANOTHER WORLD, and it is more real than the one that we regress into when we are driven by our minds instead of our hearts, overcome by our fears and judgments, when we are lived by life instead of living it, when we feel life happening to us instead of creating it. Heaven is on earth. Freedom from suffering can be found.

I dedicate this entry to you dear friend who has inspired me once again to pen a few more lines, I know you are grieving the loss of your father in the past week and I hope the words I write provide you some measure of comfort in your time of mourning. Take a few steps with me Here and Now, maybe you might feel your father's hand in yours. Maybe...

We all go through this, losing someone we love. It cannot be avoided... for every 'hello' there is ALWAYS a 'goodbye'. The passing of a loved one is both an experience of great pain and yet of immense value. We are reminded of what actually matters most when the ones we love break depart our journey. That is the learning, well actually... the reminder. There is nothing to learn really, only to remember that all that matters is that which cannot be bought nor seen nor touched. It is simply our relationships with each other that bring value and determine to a large degree the level of satisfaction in our lives. If we as people never passed on from each other, would we ever get it then? What truly matters... perhaps not. It is the current culture to squander our time with each other in empty material pursuits of happiness. What if we lived each day as our last? And why should we not,... nothing is ever guaranteed except change.

As we mourn for ourselves we remain aware for a cause for celebration. We celebrate the moment of the departed being free from both the illusion that we live in and of the constraints of the corporeal form. Time and space dissolve. You mourn the loss of ever feeling your father hug you again in this lifetime yet there is the cause for rejoicing that now your father shall hug his father again. Without time and space, he now also hugs you as he pleases. And the cycle continues...

I've recently had the great fortune of reading a book called The Little Prince. This book has been around for decades, it has the appearance of a children's story but it contains some deep insights about the human condition. The main character is The Little Prince who comes from a distant planet and travels through the galaxy encountering other planets inhabited by a single adult that individually epitomize a particular mental condition that we tend to suffer due to our social programming. These encounters are meant to highlight the wretchedness of these conditions in a satirical manner. The Little Prince is an endearing character for he represents the innocence and the beauty within us untainted by such miseries impressed upon us by our enculturation. The story's essence can be captured in the following line uttered by a fox to the little prince: "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye." If we were to live this principle then perhaps the importance of dying and leaving each other behind would diminish.

As an interesting side note, a week ago I met a Polish girl that told me of a Spanish guy she once dated briefly who had tattoos of The Little Prince all over his body. I can only surmise that this person was motivated by the need to be reminded of the beauty and innocence inside of himself - that which makes each of us completely worthy of love by default.

- The Little Prince

A Day in Belum Rainforest Resort

2009-08-30T05:22:00.000-07:00

Today I witnessed the most spectacular sunset of my life over a fresh water lake in the Belum rainforest in the northern state of Perak near the Thai border. I drove here yesterday looking for a revival and I found one in the sky. Since I acquired a car over a month ago, I've been making excursions out of the city on the weekend to seek cleaner air and better scenery.

I arrived here and I thought to myself that this was going to be a waste of a 5 hour drive and a long weekend. There's too many people here and it's too commercialized. I'm going to return to the city even more resentful of the drudgery my life had become since I became more focused on my professional work life. Lately, it seemed that I had lost my moorings and drifted out to sea abandoned by the wind and cut off from the rest of the world.

After breakfast I rowed a bamboo raft onto the middle of the lake. It was one of the simplest boats, ten bamboo shafts tied together and held rigid by 4 sticks acting as cross beams. The propulsion device was a 5 ft shaft sliced down the middle, essentially an oar. It took a lot of rowing to get a short distance. After a few minutes of concerted rows I turned back and was crestfallen to see the shore was still so near. The funny thing about self-powering on the water is that the effort never seems to produce the expected proportional result in terms of locomotion. But if you persist you can find that open space where the placidness of the lake wraps and enshrouds you. It softens the outside of you, makes you permeable again so the light can find its way inside of you once more.

And when the light is alive in you, it makes you turn your head up to the sky often enough so that you catch the glimpse of the wondrous tapestry of colors masterfully woven over your head. I saw that dazzling combination of soft intense hues of violet, orange, blue and patches of grey cloud highlighted in the right places emblazoned adrift on the rainbow sky like burning ships. Is this really the planet that I live in?

Perceptions

2009-05-20T20:54:00.001-07:00

Yesterday as I was reading from Gregg Braden's book and transcribing some of the content to my Blog, a woman in her early 30s approached me with a folder, ID card and tin. Sensing a solicitor, I was on guard immediately. She introduced herself but I was barely listening, my automated "No, thanks" response was on the tip of my tongue. I asked her to re-introduce herself and she showed me her paper ID, then presented me with a home made binder containing local articles from newspapers and magazines in various languages describing a home for disabled children run by a lady named Dhanapakiyam. One article showed her receiving an award from Reader's Digest for her humanitarian efforts and how she turned her life around - the only Malaysian ever to receive one.

She said, "I volunteer at this place and today is my off day but I'm going around town looking for donations. I'm hot and tired. Could I please sit down with you?" I pulled out a chair for her and took a good look at the contents of the binder. This woman was selling decals as a form of donation, each one cost $10 and it showed a simple winking moon faced character holding a badminton racket swatting at a shuttlecock. "The children designed it" she explained. I was moved out of admiration for her zeal and compassion for the people living in the home. I pulled out $50 and handed it to her in exchange for 5 decals. She thanked me and then left.

Today I had a conversation with my parents and I described the incident to them. "I'm afraid you were scammed" came their response. I adamantly rejected the claim. My father said, "I had the same thing happen to me recently, I asked the guy to give me an address to mail the check and he paled." He went on, "These people are all over town, you can't trust them." I felt like a fool as I often did with my parents and I was torn, the feeling of joy that I had helped people in need was mutating into bitterness and dejection. "It's the thought that counts" was their consolation. This was the standard excuse for people to brush off others in need, I didn't want this to be the last time I gave to a charity worker in the street. I needed to still believe that there ARE people that can be trusted when reaching out for help in such a way.

I turned to Google and looked for the phone number of the home in the town she mentioned. I called the number of a place that matched the description. The lady that answered told me that they DID have a charity drive last month but they used a blue form that was filled out on location. They did not authorize people to solicit donations on their behalf in the street. The numbness was setting in... before I hung up I asked just to be sure, "who is the person in charge? Is she an Indian lady that received an award from Reader's Digest?" She said it wasn't, she didn't know whom I was speaking of. I asked, "Is there another home such as yours in that town?" She didn't know of any other.

I tried again on Google. this time I looked for the name of the Malaysian lady (whom I couldn't recall) by typing in Readers Digest and Malaysian award. It's amazing how little publicity this sort of thing gets as opposed to terrorist acts and other dehumanizing forms of news. There were few articles returned and even then the first few were irrelevant hits. Finally I found one that did describe the event. It mentioned her name and I used her name along with the town to track down her phone number. I called her and a small voice answered on the other side. I asked her, "Is this Danapakiyam?" She confirmed it was and I introduced myself then described the events of the day before. "Yes, that is correct." she responded. Relief and joy flooded through me.

Praying "Rain"

2009-05-20T01:39:00.002-07:00

It had been a time of extreme drought in the high deserts of northern New Mexico, when my native friend David invited me to an ancient stone circle to "pray rain." After meeting at a prearranged location, I followed him on an early-morning hike through a valley that contained more than 100,000 acres of high-desert sage. After walking for a couple of hours, our journey led us to a place that David had been to many times before and knew very well. It was an earthen circle made of stones arranged in perfect geometries of lines and arrows, just the way the hands of its maker had placed them long ago.

"What is this place?" I asked. "This is the reason that we have come." David laughed. "This stone circle is a medicine wheel that has been here for as long as my people can remember." He continued, "The wheel itself has no power. It serves as a place of focus for the one invoking the prayer. You could think of it as a road map - a map between humans and the forces of this world." Anticipating my next questions, David described how he'd been taught the language of this map from the time that he was a young boy. "Today," he said, "I will travel an ancient path that leads to other worlds. From those worlds, I will do what we came here to do. Today, we pray rain."

I wasn't prepared for what I saw next. I watched carefully as David removed his shoes, gently placed his naked feet into the circle, and honored the four directions and all of his ancestors. Slowly, he placed his hands in front of his face in a praying position, closed his eyes, and became motionless. Oblivious to the heat of the midday desert sun, his breathing slowed and became barely noticeable. After only a few moments, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes to look at me, and said, "Let's go. Our work is finished here."

Expecting to see dancing, or at least some chanting, I was surprised by how quickly his prayer began and then ended. "Already?" I asked. "I thought you were going to pray for rain!" David's reply to my question has been the key that helped so many to understand this kind of prayer. As he sat on the ground to lace up his shoes, David looked up at me and smiled. "No," he replied. "I said that I would pray rain. If I had prayed for rain, it could never happen." Later in the day, David explained what he meant by this statement.

He began by describing how the elders of his village had shared the secrets of prayer with him when he was a young boy. The key, he said, is that when we ask for something to happen, we give power to what we do not have. Prayers for healing empower the sickness. Prayers for rain empower the drought. "Continuing to ask for these things only gives more power to the things that we would like to change," he said.

I think about David's words often, and what they could mean in our lives today. If we pray for world peace, for example, while feeling tremendous anger toward those who lead us into war, or even war itself, we may inadvertently be fueling the very conditions that lead to the opposite of peace! With half of the world's nations now engaged in armed conflict, I often wonder what role millions of well-intentioned prayers for peace each day may be playing, and how a slight shift in perspective could possibly change that role.

Looking back at David, I asked, "If you didn't pray for rain, then what did you do?"

"It's simple," he replied. "I began to have the feeling of what rain feels like. I felt the feeling of rain on my body, and what it feels like to stand with my naked feet in the mud of our village plaza because there has been so much rain. I smelled the smells of rain on the earthen walls in our village, and felt what it feels like to walk through fields of corn chest high because there has been so much rain."

- Gregg Braden from "The Lost Mode of Prayer"

The Lost Mode of Prayer (I)

2009-05-20T01:17:00.000-07:00

I am sitting here in MidValley by the gardened boulevard with a delectable mocha and I am reading a book that is reviving my spirit. I just have to share this pieces of this wisdom:

On this day, we found ourselves in some of the most remote, isolated, magnificent, and sacred places of knowledge remaining on Earth today: the monasteries of the Tibetan plateau....
I focused my attention directly into the eyes of the beautiful and timeless-looking man seated lotus-style in front of me: the abbot of the monastery. Through our translator, I'd just asked him the same question that I'd asked each monk and nun that I'd met throughout my pilgrimage: "When we see your prayers," I began, "what are you doing? When we see you tone and chant for 14 and 16 hours a day, when we see the bells, the bowls, the gongs ,the chimes, the mudras, and the mantras on the outside, what is happening to you on the inside?"
As the translator shared the abbot's reply, a powerful sensation rippled through my body, and I knew that this was the reason we'd come to this place. "You have never seen our prayers," he answered, "because a prayer cannot be seen." Adjusting the heavy wool robe beneath his feet, the abbot continued. "What you have seen is what we do to create the feeling in our bodies. Feeling is the prayer!"
The clarity of the abbot's answer sent me reeling. His words echoed the ideas that had been recorded in ancient Gnostic and Christian traditions more than 2,000 years ago. In early translations of the biblical book of John (chapter 16, verse 24, for example), we're invited to empower our prayers by being surrounded by [feeling] our desires fulfilled, just as the abbot suggested: "Ask without hidden motive and be surrounded by your answer." For our prayers to be answered, we must transcend the doubt that often accompanies the positive nature of our desire. Following a brief teaching on the power of overcoming such polarities, the words of Jesus recorded in the Nag Hammadi Library remind us that when we do this, and say to the mountain, "'Mountain move away,' it will move away."

- Gregg Braden

Iridology update

2009-05-08T04:30:00.000-07:00

In reference to my earlier post here... I have been taking the supplements faithfully 3 times a day for about a week now. And the difference in me is encouraging. The jury is still out on the spine, my back still bothers me though the symptoms are different now. The discomfort is more localized and my muscle are less tense but it is there nonetheless and the level of pain doesn't seem to be getting less. On the other hand, I am sleeping better at night, it doesn't wake me like it used to and I get out of bed easier in the morning.

I feel more energetic, better blood flow, better concentration and I've dropped some weight. I eat less now. In fact on the fourth day of the program I noticed a sharp drop in my appetite for food and drink. Only water seemed to be desired. It was as though my body was going through a detox. I recall the iridologist mentioning that our cells regenerate every four days, I wonder if this had something to do with it.

On the tennis court, Azmil, my coach has noticed similar improvements in my performance. He said, "You get tired less now, better ball focus, you're looser on the court. From your agility, I can see your lower back is not as tight as it used to be."

I am not sure if Iridology is to be given all credit for my better tennis. Oneness Blessing too claims to boost an athlete's performance or even an artist's creativity because of the boost in activity in the frontal lobes. Maybe it's a bit of both, but I've never had such a blast hitting the tennis ball these days. Nowadays I can see the ball suspended in the air for a split second before I contact it with confident ferocity.

I am already convinced to continue pursuing this program. I took a look at articles on the internet about Iridology and I was taken aback by how it tends to be discredited by the medical profession even citing studies that debunk it. No big surprise, alternative medicine is never supported by the established medical society. It just goes to demonstrate that nothing is to be believed, even when you are told NOT to believe. Go seek the truth for yourself.

It is worthwhile mentioning that the supplements I've started are NOT drugs nor meant to replicate any of the body's normal production of enzymes/amino acids. Instead they are nutrients that aid the body in the natural production of such.

A Quick Recovery

2009-05-07T04:01:00.000-07:00

Overnight I have recovered from my dark mood. It seems my emotions run stronger in both directions these days, whether it is positive or negative. My unbridled foul mouthed rant against that which draws me on my quest, call it God or the Truth. It dislodged some old resentments that were never expressed out of fear of repercussion. My Christian upbringing taught me of a God to be feared and not to be challenged, to do so would risk falling out of favor and then perhaps fire or brimstone would fall on me. But I've since learned to vent and there are a lot of old hurts that are being released. A relationship that does not allow for such expression cannot be healthy nor realistically sustained. To accept that I am loved unconditionally by God would be of significant import that would free me to tread my own path of inquiry deviating from a version of truth that was packaged, branded and handed to me. I never asked for the package but then again no one ever chooses their version of reality, it is their luck of the draw when given their belief package by their parents after birth. With the acceptance of unconditional love there is no longer fear of repercussion. At some point I dared to take a good look at the classic depiction of God as a vengeful judge; if I could upset the big guy in the sky then isn't he subject to me? And if it there so, then why did he make us (all 6 billion of us) so damn incapable of abiding by a set of rules, does he enjoy being disappointed constantly on a daily basis billions of times? So I chose that what matters more is the intention, at some point we need to step out of line and walk another direction trusting that no one who does so would slip through His/Her fingers.

It has been a year since I left my unrestricted comfortable life in California and had I been told I would not have achieved certain results in my life by this time, I wonder if I would have still started down this path. The fact is that the perfect job had come my way before I left Malaysia, precisely as I had declared it but I had let it slip away. What happens when one makes a misstep or doesn't step through an opened door that was meant for them? Am I now living the life that is unscripted down a lost path, have I fallen out of favor with my guide never to redeem myself. Never mind then I thought New Zealand was my Promised Land but it wasn't, waters didn't magically part for me.. though a helicopter did bring me back to the beginning. Maybe I simply chose wrongly again, it could be I should have just not gotten on the helicopter and carried on. What would then have been waiting for me at the end of the trek and with a few more days in New Zealand. Essentially I have become fearful and angry but the rant was a huge catharsis for today I feel so much lighter and capable. Having moved some blocks, my faith is restored and feel plugged in once again to the higher powers. I am ready to take up my cross again.

My view has changed a lot, I used to believe in a fatherly figure in the sky that would protect me and grant me miracles if I just were to listen and abide with his set of rules. Then that notion dissolved to be replaced with a greater burden of responsibility... I too am a creator, and God is a lot closer than I though whispering in my ear "you want the miracles? create them! Or rather intend them then step out of the way. There are no other rules and no reasons to doubt, unless you've judged yourself as unworthy, because then that will be your truth also. You are always right and you are always creating".

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there." - Rumi

The lows get lower

2009-05-06T20:50:00.000-07:00

Today I hate the world. I am tired and the bitterness is fueled by unmet expectations; risks and efforts undertaken over time that yield no results. My only accomplishment is accomplishing nothing. I find myself completely ineffectual in every endeavor I don't want to try anymore I'm done lifting my head up. Why not conserve energy and be idle, the destination is the same. I rage against the strings attached to my limbs, I do not wish to play anymore. The puppeteer looks malevolent, and delights in my suffering taking me through the paces of a fool. Who is the puppeteer and where are these strings attached? Of course the self-help gurus will point out it is my mind, but my spirit is losing ground and there are no allies in the battlefield within myself. The enemy wears many faces; he is too dominant and the attacks are relentless. On the outside I face a world that tells me over and over again that I am the one dreaming, not them. I want to start over, where is the reset button? Let me retake the tests, I know the answers now.

I started this Blog a year ago to color my world in a pleasing way; but the brighter shades have run out, there are only dark grey pencils left in the box.

Returning to Malaysia

2009-04-30T03:20:00.000-07:00

Why return to Malaysia... the training I intended to take in March to point my professional career in a certain direction did not materialize. The certification would have opened doors in New Zealand or anywhere else in the world for that matter. But a week prior to the start of the course, it was cancelled because of insufficient numbers. This training is only offered quarterly in a handful of locations globally and quite susceptible to cancellation especially during leaner times. I have returned also because I have realized that at this point in my life, I am not ready to reduce the level of social interaction and live in a more bucolic setting. Or a more mundane sedentary existence, it is not my calling now. I can't quite explain it but I feel New Zealand has served it's purpose, maybe it was simply so I could acquire the benefit of iridology and the supplements. Who knows maybe it will actually resolve my back issue that has plagued me for years and years. Maybe the true impact of the Oneness Blessing is yet to be perceived. Maybe to discover Tai Chi and the miracle it is to the body. Whatever it is, even if it turns out to all mean nothing in my life I will likely return to New Zealand someday again. This young country of open expanse and rugged unspoiled terrain that homes 4 million southern frontiers people. It is a gorgeous escape from the modern fast paced demanding lifestyle. And I will complete the Milford Trek.

Iridology

2009-04-29T04:08:00.000-07:00

I leave Queenstown today to begin my journey back to Malaysia via Christchurch and Melbourne. Before I get on the bus to Christchurch at 230pm I take a trip into town for a long awaited appointment with an iridologist.

I had been trying unsuccessfully to schedule an appointment on short notice over the phone but the lady is always booked for days ahead. To make this appointment I booked almost two weeks in advance as soon as I returned from Auckland. This appointment certainly factored in my decision not to complete the Milford Trek. I felt this was important and that it would be an eye opening experience - no pun intended.

The lady seems rather unfriendly when I arrive. She directs me to a chair on the opposite side of the table without a smile. She enquires about my friends and I am surprised that she remembers my initial visit here many weeks ago when I came with Jules and Mervin. I decide that her curt mannerism is just her nature and I ease up, complying with her instruction to maneuver my head to brace my chin against the photographic machine. The pictures of my left and right eyes are displayed immediately on a large lcd monitor on her desk. "The left iris," she begins "tells us the condition of the left side of your body. And likewise the right iris for the right side." "You are fighting a virus right now, you probably are feeling the effects of a cold but you have a strong immunity. You can tell from the density of the optical fibres... "

For the next thirty minutes she leads me through her assessment. I am stunned to hear her mention my father's acidic stomach condition and that my mother is a highly anxious person that thinks too much, she didn't pass me enough red blood cells when I was in her womb. Both are correct about my parents, but I don't know about the red blood cells - I've never counted. She says that I've inherited the same tendencies from my parents referring to certain patterns in my iris. Then it gets even more impressive as she begins to list ailments that I experience. I have a tendency to be hypoglycemic, the level of sugar in my blood runs too low. So I like to eat sweet things to compensate. I have an issue with transport of oxygen to the brain (I really objected to this one), so I like to exert myself with physical exercise to boost the transport of oxygen in me otherwise I get depressed after a few days of inactivity. My spine leans to the left and is curved to the right and my pelvis is tilted downwards to the right. I probably have a numbness in my foot when I walk a lot. Correct again and I have good posture so she couldn't have seen this any other way. All of her assessments were spot on. I was quite amazed.

I ask her why my spine suffers this condition. In summary she says that we're genetically predisposed to certain weaknesses in us, inherited from our parents. The human body is designed to fix itself but it tends to not do so because of stress factors in our lives and inadequate levels of nutrition, the quality of the food we eat is in steady decline due to anti-biotics, perservatives and other additives, bio-engineering, chemical pesticides. We are simply not receiving the proper tools and conditions for our body to mend itself. She recommends certain supplements for me, essentially putting together a tailored program based on my iris analysis. She puts them on the table in front of me, I see 6 bottles and I choose the most important 4 to cut cost and because of space limitations in my luggage. According to her the most important one is to support my liver, many of my ailments stem from an inefficient liver. Consequently, my body's inability to rid itself of certain toxins that keep re-accumulating at glands along my spine is the primary reason for my spine to continually misalign itself despite a history of chiropractic adjustments. She is not pushy in her sales pitch and I sense I can trust this. I ask her bluntly to dispel any last reservation, "will these 4 supplements fix my spine?" "Yes", she answered without hesitation. And so I pay for them, they are priced as I would expect. The program is meant to be adjusted with future iris analyses and I have enough for 3 months. It costs me NZ$350 including the analysis.

Milford Evac

2009-04-27T23:46:00.000-07:00

It is still raining by afternoon and the party is now split into two roughly even groups. Food is redistributed amongst the groups, one group is to be helicoptered up to Mintaro hut to replace those that are being helicoptered either onto Dumpling hut or back to the start of the trail. And the other group of which I stand in is to hike back out to the start of the trail led by the warden. Mervin stands in the other group and we bid our farewells, I shall not see him again until Malaysia.

We wave our goodbyes to each other and the warden leads us out. We only go as far as ten minutes before we are walking in water. We arrive at the river and there is no boundary between the river and the trail, the water continues to rise as we continue to tread slowly. It is cold but not dangerously cold. Eventually the warden turns us around, it is too risky to continue on foot. We are to return back to the hut to be helicoptered back to the start of the trek and then catch the boat back to Te Anau Downs, from there a bus will return us to Te Anau and even onto Queenstown if we desire it.

The water rises and rises as we attempt to trek out

The party we split from is amused to find us back again so soon. There is an air of excitement in the air as we are given instructions on how to manage ourselves when the helicopter begins transporting us 5 at a time. Soon we hear the faint whirr of the approaching chopper which crescendos into a loud thumping as it makes it careful descent on the deck. It takes several trips between Mintaro, Clinton and the trailhead but eventually only a handful of us remain and then I too am ushered into the chopper. From the air the landscape looks like a disaster zone, there is water everywhere. It is only a short ride though and insulting to the amount of effort we expended on foot two days ago.

The winds are calm enough today for the chopper to fly

We are given to option to stay the night in Te Anau or carry on to Queenstown and I choose to return to Queenstown. This leaves me one full day in Queenstown before I depart. Jules is startled to see me return a day early and I relay the events to her supplemented with my camera footage of my little dramatic rescue. She doesn't buy my story that Mervin got carried away by the strong current though :)

Milford No Go

2009-04-26T07:20:00.000-07:00

We awaken to strong wind and irregular rain fall, though the weather seems quite benign word reaches me that no one is allowed to leave the hut until the warden has given the clear. The river is now at unsafe levels and the occupants in other two huts further along the Milford trek are unable to proceed.

I venture out to the river to have a look and I am rattled by how much the water has risen, the river had completely changed character overnight.

Back at the hut, the rain falls intermittently, one moment there is none and the next there is a furious downpour for a few minutes. Of the 3 huts, the storm is least ferocious here because we are sheltered down in the narrow valley by the steep slopes. The warden gives us hourly updates on the conditions at Mintaro hut situated halfway up the trail to Mackinnon Pass and for the Clinton river where we are. They consider using the chopper to transport the trekkers between the huts but the winds are too strong at the higher elevations for this. The river is also preventing the trekkers at Dumpling hut from completing the trek. Dumpling hut is the last of the 3 huts on the Milford Trek. By noon we are resigned to wait another day.

My mood is crushed by this, if I continue the trek having lost a day then I risk missing my return flight to Malaysia because of travel connections beginning the day after the end of the trek. Throughout the day I oscillate between decisions to either risk hiring a rental car and driving in the early hours of the morning to Christchurch to make my 6am flight to Melbourne or hike back out to the start of the Milford Trek, emerging a day earlier and without completing it. I curse the fates for this misfortune dashing the highlight of my trip to New Zealand, there is nothing to do except sit around fending off sandflies (how are these persistent buggers unaffected by the rain??). Everyone's mood is somber, sitting around watching the rain fall on the deck.

The warden organizes a nature trek to keep us occupied, I am impressed by his knowledge of the plant and wildlife.

My back starts acting up so I return to my bunk and allow myself to slip into a funk. According to the warden, the last time this happened was years ago and now it happens to me on this day!! I could handle not completing the Camino last year but I can't let this one go for some reason. The fact that it is happening again makes it extremely difficult to not take this personal now, my funk turns into a rage. By night I arrive at the decision to leave at the next opportunity, for to pursue the trek would jeopardize my flight arrangements, and I would not have the peace of mind on the trail.

That night the rain falls with greater force.