medicare, meditation

i'm an immigrant citizen. the first time i heard the word 'medicare' was when great aunt sarah went into the hospital. she was in her late nineties, beautiful, funny, witty, generous. it turned out she was dehydrated and found practically passed out. why? she adamantly refused to wear diapers. i often overheard hubby talking to her on the phone. they were always delightful and affectionate conversations. he would find a moment to sweetly plead her to drink and she would chuckle it off. meanwhile, back to the hospital, everyone loved her, treated her royally, hydrated her and after a few days of wonderful care, they sent her back to her apartment, and the family all felt relieved and happy. i asked, who paid for her hospital bill? medicare, i was told. oh. somehow i was left with the impression that medicare was one of sarah's friends who loved her so much that he or she wrote her into the will. (honest to god, it wasn't until this healthcare reform debate that i have a better understanding of this medicare situation.)

a few months went by. rachel was back in the hospital again. dehydration, of course. she sprang back to life after a stay of lovingly marvelous care. by the way, she was so irresistible, likable, it is impossible not to treat her like a dowager. this cycle went on for several years. at some point, i thought to myself, this medicare is going to be in trouble at some point. of course i dared not bring this up to anyone. meanwhile rachel's adventures had provided the family with a trove of delightful memories. her strong personality became stuff of family legend.

aunt sarah passed away 3 days before her 106 birthday, two weeks after a stroke.

as a family of course we cherish and welcome all the good times sarah gifted us. meanwhile, as a people, as a country, i know we have a long and difficult road ahead to figure out how and what to do about medicare.

as a meditator, i learn to look at the body as a vehicle. a beautiful, capable vehicle and like all vehicles, it will wear out. i take good care of it so it will probably last a long while. but i also know, like a car, at some point, the bender may fall off, the battery dies... will i be able to embrace the situation as it unfolds? will i be able to live in accordance with the understanding that i am still what i am no matter what happens to the body? that totally depends on how firmly anchored i will be in the Self.

9/8/09, 38 m + 1 hr 5 m, to know god

after 2 days away from formal sitting meditation i don't what to expect and i let go of all and any expectation. i say, i would be happy just to be able to sit. and what do i feel? like i'm returning to a place i love like no other. once i'm there i don't want to leave. i just sit and sit, let my attention ride on the wind of the easy and natural breath. i sail into the open sea within. i recall the dream i had last night. in part of it, i am given a pair of exquisite beautiful peep-toe flats before walking through a door into a cavernous space. i can't see the ceiling nor the floor. i think to myself, truly this is what it means by sky is the limit. i fly around leisurely at my own pace, pausing every so often at the beings meditating in spaces jutting out of the ancient tree trunks and branches. some look spectacularly outrageous, other look simple and ordinary. the sensation of flying is so marvelous and familiar all at once. i try to look for a space to sit down to meditate but i see poop smear in the unoccupied spots. i'm hesitating when an elaborately dressed woman is called to the front by a voice. then i watch the voice performing some sort of a ritual on her. she falls into a trance, her garments beginning to come apart revealing fair skin. meanwhile i feel a sensation of opening and relaxing in the vagina. the wonderful, soothing feeling suffuses every particle of my being like tea imbuing water. in a quiet way i realize what i truly want to do for my life. to know god. and i ve found the way. thank you, god, for meditation.

9/5/09, 38 + 28, ted kennedy, ocean and meditation

senator kennedy has this deep connection to the ocean and sailing. apparently in the last months of his life he goes to sailing everyday even if he has to go in a wheelchair. i totally get it. it resonates with me. everyday i have to take a voyage into my inner sea. singing aum is setting up sail. i glide into the wind in the breath. and off i go into the open sky and sea within. there i experience a sense of peace and bliss. no matter what storm and thunder the mind stir up i know they come and go, and in the end, all that efforts i put in to stay in is worth it. the sweetness of courage and perseverance is incomparable.

yes, indeed, sailing in the sea is the senator's meditation.

30 + 9, horizontal meditation

the world of the mind is ever changing. today it is a stormy ocean. i have learned enough by now not to fight against it. it would be exhausting, not to say depressing. i quickly figure out what are the absolute essential tasks i have to take care of today and then i go horizontal, deliberately direct my attention to the breath flowing in and out, to the humming sound suffusing it. i fall back asleep and dream.

tom cruise comes to me, looking stressed out, asks me if he could join me for meals. it is obvious to me he is going through some inner struggle. i say yes. we sit next to each other, he to my left, at a big round table with other guests i have invited. the atmosphere is easeful and relaxed. he and i are having a heart-warming, genuine interaction, a lot of trust. as the meal unfolds tom gets more and more comfortable. he keeps heaving long and deep sighs of relief. at some point, someone comes to the door. it's ko-yan, a woman classmate from hong kong university. she's a devout catholic, kind, smart, very nice to me. but in the dream she is all worked up, only wants to hang around tom. i pull her aside, gently and firmly, and talk to her. i handle the whole situation unfluttered. the atmosphere stays harmonic.

i wake up from the dream, prepare for a shorter meditation and then launch into the day's affairs with calm, confidence and focus.

9/3/09, 42 + 29, group aummming

be strong, be strong, be strengthened. we say these words when we come to the end of each of the five books of moses. i feel the same way about singing aum as a group. the choral sound of aaa, uuu, mmma and the nasal resonance that expands into the nooks and crannies of the head ebb and flow like ocean waves. it drowns out the rocks and boulders of tendencies and habits that hold me back. it becomes so easy to release into the symphonic resonance because it feels so utterly safe and natural to do so. and then all that's left is a sense of vast spaciousness and openness in my own being. the humming in the flowing breath fill up every particle and molecule with a buzzing aliveness all the way to the fingertips and crown of head. there's a subtle sweetness moisturizing the back of tongue and throat. it's evident that even the sweetness found in the best chocolate and tree-ripened mango do not come close. no wonder the long-held craving is gone.

i'm so, so, so grateful that shivaa has embraced me in her group aummming because i have no doubt that it has strengthened my connection to the sound of aum, it has deepened my conviction in the power of aum and therefore solidified my bond to meditation. now, sitting on my own i can call up with confidence and conviction the sound within myself knowing that i can enter the experience without difficulty. with this understanding there is no other way but to look at whatever that has to be taken care of with a fresh eye and bright joy all well tossed with a dressing of 'let's go at it and see what happens.'

for full disclosure, i have to confess shivaa's yummy-yumyum cooking is a big factor in me going back again and again too..hmmm that refreshing, exotic lemongrass fragrance gurgling off the butternut squash soup makes it that much easier to enter the inner world:)

9/2/09, 38 + 12, the world's a narrow bridge

took 3 hrs to get out of bed. woke up at 3 overcome with tiredness and the thought 'i can't do this, i have to sleep.' so i did. awoke again around 5, and was convinced i wouldn't be able to get through the day if i didn't sleep more. but at the same time i could sense something different was going on inside me. it's kind of like being on a roller coaster ride at high speed and a big turnaround is coming up. i just knew from the depths of my being that i was not going to skip meditation. i could see the mind was on the cusp of snowballing: maybe i meditate shorter today? maybe i'll skip making chai? maybe...just then i heard hubby say, i have to leave the house no later than 8.30, and we have to have a biz meeting, so let's meet at 7.30. wo-wo-wo, the inner turnaround was immediate and dramatic. my attention was scooped up and lifted high out of the quagmire of inertia and resistance. just like that i was awake. truly the world is a narrow bridge. it's so easy to be thrown off balance and fall off course. as a matter of fact, the yogis put it even more bluntly. this life is walking across a tumultuous ocean on a double-edged sword.

9/1/09, 40 + 40, not to fear at all

2 am. a fascinating state. not sleepy enough to go back to sleep but no desire to get out of bed either. all i want is just to keep the eyes closed and revel in this roaring quiet rumbling through me. the fingers and toes are one beating heart, pong, pong, pong. at one point there is this tiny thought, i am not having a heart attack, am i? but there is no fear, no fear at all, only a sense of vastness, spaciousness.

eventually i sleep a little more before waking to find myself singing a little song over and over: the entire world is a narrow bridge, the whole point is not to fear, not to fear at all. the great hassidic sage bal sham tov wrote it. and now across time and space his wisdom, courage and strength fills me up through the hauntingly beautiful melody and simple words. on its own and by itself the song swirls and dances in me.