Peru

An amazing teacher once said to me: do not believe in your happiness or what will bring you happiness, or your god or your values. Belief means that you are putting your trust in someone else’s message. Instead, experience your happiness, your god and your values. Then, and only then, will you find yourself and your path. And of course I became a true proponent of this message. Because I believed it was right on the money. And once I decided to believe it I figured that was enough for me and I can go back to living my life of belief of a future happiness. I am so persuasive that I even believed myself! Which is the scariest part. I truly believe the life I was leading and the boy I was dating and the direction I was heading was going to bring me happiness. And then I met Carmon. Carmon ripped this little fantasy world right from under my feet and told me I am living non-functionally. I have too many parts of my life that are just not working for me and that I have the choice to continue to move through life as such, or to let go of this desire to rule my life with my head and allow my heart to bring me along for the ride. With nothing to lose since everything has already been set aside, I decided, what the fuck. Why not? No. it is not that easy and it does not end there. If anything it’s only the beginning of more struggle and hardship as my heart (what I refer to as sattva) and my mind (tigress) compete for the lead in this musical. So with guidance from Carmon, I sat down after 31 years and meditated on what I am passionate about for ME.. not for Others. Damn, was that mind-blowing, literally. The things that came up for me literally took all the thoughts I had in my head and kicked them to the curb because I realized that throughout my life I had access and opportunity to pursue those things that I LOVE and tigress stepped in, took its leading role and said.. no way. Of course, tigress was only trying to protect me from the pain and suffering it feared I may have if I follow my passion. How can someone trust in themselves when it doesn’t fit into the perfect world that society has created for us? Shit, now I’m in for it. What do you fear most about what may or may not happen to you in the future? I mean, happen to YOU, not your friends or your family or your job, car, home, savings account, television, material objects, etc. What would you never want to happen to your physical being or your mind? Why. My life is sandwiched between my most restrictive experience in the past and my fear of restriction in the future. And instead of being present in every moment between, I allowed my fear to prohibit me from experiencing my true passion because of the fear it will be taken away from me again. Movement. My entire life has been about movement or the lack of movement. It is what scares me most when I think of the one thing I would never want to lose. Yet, allowing it to be present in my every day life has been a challenge. I have been playing out the fear and trying to control it so it doesn’t take control of me. So instead of an illness keeping me from moving, I kept myself from moving. And, instead of giving myself power over my body and mind, I gave myself an excuse, and a pretty bad one, to not follow my passion. Wow, is that NOT working for me. At the age of 10 I sat on a cold metal pole in a nude body stocking with my toes stretching out beneath me to touch the sticky floor and my arms stretched out to both sides grabbing tightly around two more poles to keep myself upright. I remember being in a large room behind a few curtains and doctors and nurses walking by as my impending life sentence of therapy was merely another common occurrence, or annoyance, at their office. Not a nurse, doctor or aide came to offer words of compassion, hope or understanding. Instead, I became the next canvass for the worst artwork I had ever been forced to witness. A bucket of plaster was the paint, I was the canvas and the nurses were Picasso. Within minutes my entire body was being slathered with this thick, white, gummy material that felt warm and heavy. I was given specific instructions to remain still and calm. Sure, 2 things that are foreign to the vocabulary of a 6th grader. After about 15 or 20 minutes the gooey stuff began to solidify and I found myself panicking as I realized I was trapped in this new and improved posture that was molded to me. I remained calm on the outside for fear of upsetting my parents any more than they were obviously feeling and I swallowed holding back the tears that were begging to release themselves. The only things that were still left to flow freely and I was restricting them. Then the doctor came by with a circular metal knife and told me it was time to get this off and let it set and add some extra paddings to help the scoliosis which they presumed will come because of genetics. I questioned the tool and the process of removing it when suddenly I felt my spine go into mini spasms and my mind begin to spin out of control as I thought he was opening my body up and going to tear right into my spine leaving me dead on the floor. Without a word of notice or an attempt to appease my fears, the process continued until the entire corpse was removed from my exterior. Leaving only a living, breathing corpse in its wake. For the next 5 years I experienced imprisonment within my own body. Just a few weeks ago I spoke with a woman in her 80’s who also had scoliosis. She had surgery, she wore special shoes and later in her life she wore a brace and she exclaimed it was the worse suffering she had ever experienced. I never allowed myself to feel the extent of my suffering because I hid within myself and the brace to not expose my weakness to my family. Every day, 24 hours a day I wore that brace. My only relief was if I chose to dance. According to the doctor, dance was my salvation from this cemented cell. And so I did. I danced and danced and danced some more. Every spare moment I had I would dance. I would wake up in the morning, get ready for school, go to school and run back home waiting to take my brace off to dance only to have to put it back on to sleep. It was a never ending cycle of momentary freedom with extended entrapment. It was almost tantalizing the way I would experience the brief moments of sanity. I grabbed onto it knowing that I would lose it so soon. I was never able to really feel the movement because I was just waiting for it to be stolen from me again. And it never failed. Every time it was taken from me. Over and over again. 5 years later the brace was removed and my love for dancing changed. It is so fascinating to recognize many years later that dance was originally a way for me to express my suffering and then in an instant it became the symbol of my suffering. I didn’t feel it anymore, I didn’t want it anymore. I couldn’t look dance in the face. It became an ugly synonym for my brace. I could no longer let dance into my life because it reminded me of the need I still had for the brace even after I was given permission to take it off. Frighteningly, I realized I needed the brace. That was the most devastating experience in my life. To need that which I hated most. To need that which restricted me, took away my freedom and prohibited me from movement. And I needed it. I stopped dancing shortly after and have experimented with some forms of movement here and there but never to the extent that my heart begged for. My mind took over and suffocated me. Then, at 24, I was given my second sentence of entrapment within my own body. Except this time, I had an infinite number of years to fear for the moment to come, for the devastation to hit, for the slow deterioration of my muscles to set in and claim me as immobile. While more than 5 top of the game medical doctors in NY stated that multiple sclerosis may be my immediate or distant future, their inability to be 100% sure of my diagnosis and 100% confident in the direction the disease may take if I do have it left me only one choice, to live. I realized I have to live like there may be no tomorrow and as though the past has no control over me any longer. And that is exactly what I did at 24. I quit my job, bought a bike and started moving again. I rode my bike every day up the west side highway and over the GW bridge and when I was not riding I was traveling to Central and South America and other amazing countries. I got so caught up with just living and having fun that I forgot to focus on what I needed for my self to grow and heal and eventually fell back into the same routine. Then it struck again. Not nearly as devastating as the first time. The first time was only as devastating as it was because of the poking and prodding of what made me feel like a plump chicken waiting to be roasted. But before I became the hunted, I experienced the entire left side of my body having a tingling sensation that eventually lead to stiffness in the elbow and knee and numbness. And because that wasn’t alarming enough for me to go to the doctor, I was given an extra gift of double vision which really derailed me because I was seeing 2 of everything and I did not know which image was representative of the true form. This brought me to the infamous traumatic spinal tap where only 3% of the people experience leaking from the spinal sac, and I, of course, wanted to join those elite ranks. I was rushed to the emergency room after experiencing the blood and spinal fluid literally drain from my spinal column and the convulsing that followed. The redeeming moment was that it was an adorable surgeon wearing an American flag bandana who stabbed me in the back with a needle the width of my torso many times over while he searched for the inner spinal sac hole which refused to heal. Unfortunately, the skin around it healed so there was no indication of where the still gaping hole within me existed. Meanwhile another surgeon held me down waiting to transfer blood from my arm to my back creating a blood clot where one didn’t form previously. The last thing I remember hearing is “her eyes are rolling back, hurry up”. So here I am. Like I said before. My life is sandwiched between my most restrictive experience in the past and my fear of restriction in the future. And how do I deal with it? Well, this time around… I dance! About a week and a half ago I was going out of my mind trying to make a quick decision about how to focus my life and what I’m supposed to do. I wanted to leave NY by January 1st to avoid most of the winter and I was forcing myself to come up with an idea that I would follow for the rest of my life in under 3 weeks. Obviously, none of them were resonating with me. So I met with a friend of mine who I met in an ashram and he stopped me before I finished my first sentence and told me to call one of his favorite people, a yogi named Carmon. He was so adamant for a man who is usually so whimsical that I immediately took his advice and called Carmon that evening. And wow was he amazing. Carmon told me what I already know but for some reason, he made me understand it differently, or maybe I was just ready to hear it. Carmon asked me what I love to do and after several attempts at trying to convince him that I really do love helping others, he told me that I first have to help myself and love myself enough to help others. He said that only after I find what I can do for myself to make me happy will everything else open naturally for me and allow love to pour in from everywhere and my path will be revealed to me. I was confused because I told him that I have not really thought about what I love to do in awhile. He giggled on the phone and said to me that that was my problem; I am thinking about what I love rather than feeling it. Beautiful Carmon then told me to meditate on what I love more than anything, whatever comes from the heart, and keep writing until I have a list of 25 things. I panicked because I could not even think of ONE. I hung up the phone and immediately sat down to meditate. I felt charged and excited to make this leap of trust as he called it. And it worked, almost instantly. And as soon as I came up with my first passion, love and energy started to flow from all of my pores and all of a sudden I felt alive and excited as 5, 10, 15, 35 more feelings of passion escaped my rigid mind. My next assignment was to choose 3 of the things on the list I love most and go for them, without expectation, not because of the money and not because it meets society's needs but for me and only me. I love dance... I love movement of all kinds. And, coupled with writing and exploring other cultures I got myself my own life’s documentary in creation.