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heard about a certain man in India who has a good philosophy about paths that are blocked. While leading a circumnambulation around a certain tomb, a sweeper had propped a broom in such a way that the handle blocked his path. But rather than break the rhythm of his prayer by moving the broom or by finding someone to do so, he waited and he prayed, and in time another sweeper came by and picked it up, and he proceeded on his way.

Now if one were in a constant state of circumnambulation, as one might argue we are from a galactical viewpoint, at every blocked path one could wait, and one could pray, and in time the way would become clear. In fact I just heard someone else say that everything you wish will happen in life, you just must wait for it.

I've been noticing these last few days how ways become blocked. People who seem half-asleep amble into a doorway, and stay awhile. Lumbering trucks back out into the road, attempting to head in another direction. Sometimes, for a moment, the way is so blocked that it seems life has stopped entirely. But it moves on as a record does while reaching its correct speed, and the music begins to play again.

While tuning his guitar during the last session of Suluk, someone said if we felt like we were waiting instead of just being, we might need to repeat the four years. I think it's true but in my case at least, it won't be necessary.

Posted by Satya at 4:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

ust got back home from the penultimate Suluk session. It was very difficult to sit there attempting to absorb more teachings when I want to be practically assimilating some of what we've covered. Everything about winter on the East Coast weighed down upon me - immobility and a caustic cocktail of mud, snow, ice, and rain sapped my energy even over the few short days.

And then I'm home and it's hot outside and the flowers are bustin' out all over the backyard, and M. has hidden little presents all over the house and my white white legs saw sunlight for what felt like the first time in years. California really is a fantastical paradise sometimes, a garden underneath which rivers flow....

I had a very hefty dream the first night I was at Suluk though, with birthing my own legs and dreams within dreams and ashes and shrines to multiple Shiite heroes. I'd like to get a sheikh to interpret it but I don't really know any I can ask.

And also a small inspiration for something new to start doing here. I don't want to say too much about it because many times these inspirations on retreat don't bear fruit, but hopefully there will be more to come later.

Posted by Satya at 6:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

y friend and I are into being badasses. Not the type where you make everyone know it, but the true badass of striving for your ultimate potential, realizing God through discovering a divine capacity within your own self. Perhaps even fulfilling the purpose of your life, or at least one of them. Unfortunately, though our hearts are in the right place, my friend and I don't always know what we're doing.

So we're trying. My friend, through the combination of a powerful hallucinogenic experience and a number of other factors in his life, is contemplating whether he can start to just do the work that comes to him naturally, instead of constantly trying to wrangle any opportunity into a safety net for the future. Relaxing completely into life despite fear of financial and other instability. The anti-go-getter. For him this is not just a work-related shift but one that would profoundly affect his whole life, since he's at a point where he can pretty much live anywhere and do anything. It's a risk that could go horribly wrong or lead to becoming a badass on an entirely new level.

I have a similar change in the works -- not specifically with business, though that's a part of it. No part of my life seems to be untouched by it lately, though I can't articulate it as a whole very well. And since it hasn't happened yet, I've been stewing in the tension and confusion that often precedes it. But I can feel the rumbling on the tracks.

What's most important for me in these kinds of transitions is a spacious environment - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. So it's going to be challenging heading off to Suluk for ten days and keeping some room open. Some room not to squish the ego in a misguided parental scolding towards humility, but to breathe on it and let it grow so large and so true that one little body couldn't possibly contain it. No matter how badass they are.

Posted by Satya at 8:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

et's be real here. I'm afraid of failing at my business, or even messing up on a day-to-day basis for that matter. I'm afraid of losing my best friend to a completely hypothetical situation. And I'm afraid that M. will slowly and gradually lose interest in me and never say a word about it until it's entirely too late to fix.

Those are the top three at the moment, and I don't know how acknowledging them will help except merely to get them off my chest. Sometimes I feel like a baby being set down in the crib, involuntarily splaying arms and legs as I feel the support going out from under me. And God is great but can be awfully quiet sometimes.

I'm sharing this to be perfectly clear that just because I meditate, or try to, and because I believe in God does not in any way exalt my lowly station in life. I feel this is a common misperception in my spiritual community, and in others as well I'm sure. Suluk is coming up again at the end of the month and I guess sometimes I dread looking at all the carefully composed facial portraits of stillness and wondering why I'm the only one with my eyes open.

Posted by Satya at 10:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

ext week I go back to Suluk for the first session of my final year. I was thinking about my last session there over the summer and remembered this one afternoon toward the end of the ten days. I was in the middle of a horrendous three-day silent retreat and took a walk down to the pond to blow off some steam. It was late in the day and the sun was out, but there was a slight chill in the air. As I passed by the "naked end" of the pond (the other end is for those who try to remain decent) I heard a giant splash, and through the trees glimpsed a naked woman swimming around making a lot of "this is really really cold" sounds. There was also a giant fish or turtle or something splashing around in there with her.

I had such an urge to just tear my clothes off and run down into the water, but although I do brave things sometimes, I'm really a scaredy-cat at heart. I'm afraid of little fish nipping at my toes, and of the unknown dark depth, not to mention giant snapping turtles. I also do not like to be cold.

So I continued on, though the impulse was so strong I stopped several times and turned back. But there were people on the path behind me, and the dinner bell was ringing....

The regret I felt afterward, moping over my spelt lasagna, was so strong I resolved then and there that if the urge ever struck, no matter how inconvenient, I would forever more go in the water. But I hope it doesn't come this time. It can get pretty cold there in autumn.

Posted by Satya at 10:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

ately I've been dealing with a new issue concerning my morning meditation practices: timing. Flylady often states the importance of routine, and Hazrat Inayat Khan's teachings on rhythm convey the same sentiment. When you have a routine, things flow along with much less effort. Children naturally blossom under the safety of routine, and as a grownup I don't feel much differently about it. I can't stand it when my routines are off and my life is in chaos.

So in the morning for some time now I've woken up at a particular time, showered, dressed, put the coffee on, and done my practices. By the time I was done with them the pot was brewed and waiting, and I would take a cup in to my office and drink it while checking my email and such.

The problem is that since the last Suluk session I've been given two new practices, which take anywhere from an extra twenty to thirty-five minutes, depending on how much I feel like doing. By this time the coffee has lost a bit of its fresh luster, and I am beginning to get anxious about starting my work.

Yes, I could always get up earlier, but I don't know how much of my life I'm willing to trade in for meditation, even with full awareness of the benefits it provides. I always come up against this wall at some point, because one of my favorite sentiments of Hazrat Inayat Khan is that mysticism may be practiced in everyday life, without running off to the hills to become an ascetic. And my routine was really working for me, so I'm sad that now it's somehow lacking.

Maybe I could get up a bit earlier and also brew a bigger pot of coffee. Maybe I can carve out a small piece of the afternoon, just stop my work entirely and unplug the phone and try not to worry about clients. That would be a challenge. I don't think I could possibly work in extra time to my before bed routine, what with my long parade of facial products and missed prayer catch-ups that are already difficult to juggle with a man and a dog all tumbling into bed pawing at the covers and tossing pillows about.

And I guess the ultimate sentiment is that I don't feel like extra meditation time could possibly increase the presence of God in my life any more than it already exists, so what exactly am I practicing for?

Posted by Satya at 10:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

oing on the premise that Sufism is all-consuming and one never has a moment that has no relationship with God, I have a conundrum from time to time when something feels particularly unholy. Even more so when that feeling is pleasurable.

For example: the desire to be desired. I'm twenty-eight and I don't like the idea of succumbing to a future of being shapeless and sexless. This was most apparent when we did an exercise last year trying on a number of different qualities, with "sexy" being one of them. As we discussed our experience in small groups, the word "sexy" rang out again and again through the room, as everyone honed in on it. Most of the people in Suluk are older than I am (there are a few of us under 35) and it seemed to the next generation up that "sexy" was quite a revelation.

Continue reading "The Divine Quality of Hotness" »

Posted by Satya at 8:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

reat shoes are very me. I like high heels in particular, though not when they're impractical. But in the right setting, a wedge, a stiletto, a pump are all highly satisfying. I'm tall, and with heels, I don't mind being even taller. I like sashaying down the street. I like not having to look up so much.

At the Abode, where Suluk is held, and at the homes of Sufi friends or those with Buddhist or even hippie tendencies, I often find myself at the mercy of a strictly no-shoe policy. What is the idea, really? To not track dirt in? To put us all on the same level? To show respect for a holy place?

I don't mind, really, but I seldom feel satisfied when I take my shoes off at a door. I don't feel like it makes me any more pious. I feel like it makes me less me. When I remove my shoes out of love, such as at a dargah (Sufi tomb/shrine), it's a very different feeling than removing them out of obligation (crunchy dinner party). Because with the latter, the part of myself that loves my shoes and is proud to wear them still exists when the shoes are off, and I feel incomplete without them. It's only with the former that I can freely feel flat-footed.

So when you come to my house, I want you to be you. Remove your shoes if you wish, but if you don't, bring me in some dirt and sand and mud. Bring me in some things from this earth. I want to see you fully outfitted, raised up as high as you want to be.

Posted by Satya at 10:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

've been inspired recently to change my look. I've been needing an aesthetic direction for awhile and have been highly encouraged in this endeavor by M., who himself is a master of carefully chosen apparel and accessories. Where did this impulse come from?

One of the most rewarding things we've done at Suluk is forming a relationship with a matron/patron master, saint, or prophet that inspires us and who we feel connected to (we affectionately call them MSPs). We did this in the first year and have continued to nourish that connection through attuning to our MSP with various meditation practices. My main MSP is still very strong in my life, but recently a new one has come in (I'll write about her later).

One very Sufi idea is that by concentrating on your ideal in the form of a person who represents that, you can become that ideal gradually by inviting that person more and more into your life and getting into their consciousness, lifting you out of your limited perspective. I think it's usually done with dead people, but I'm not sure on that point.

Anyway, I recently saw a photo of my new MSP and was very struck by it. Something shone out from her picture that was so appealing and attractive, in both personality and appearance. I've been thinking about her life constantly lately and dreaming about her sometimes. What would it be like to have her conviction, her courage, and her sensitivity? Furthermore, what would it be like to be aesthetically influenced by a person I actually honor and admire, rather than Jennifer Aniston and In Style magazine?

I don't know, but in a fit of hallelujah-style decluttering I went through my closet and pulled out everything I couldn't imagine her wearing, which was a lot that wasn't really me anyway. Maybe her courage and conviction will come, but in the meantime I'll take her hair, her eyebrows, and her language.

Posted by Satya at 11:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

am sitting in my best friend's living room right now, in a near-perfect quiet. It looks out over a big field that's green from the recent rain. It's been stormy all week. It's overcast right now and there's a cold wind blowing. An ill wind, I feel, though I felt that more yesterday. Yesterday I had an intuition or premonition or something. It was pretty strong and left residual feelings of unease. I don't know what to do with that - probably nothing. These things happen after ten days of meditation here together, introducing all kinds of new practices. Last year I was so ready for the session to be over and to go back home, just kind of worn out and not ready to feel anything else, yet I ended up having a total breakdown over loving God juxtaposed with loving a person, right there in front of everybody at the very end of the session. You don't know me yet but I'm pretty rational, so that kind of thing isn't a normal occurrence. But the practices we do and the intensity of the sessions stir the pot, so to speak.

We're flying back to California this afternoon and it's always strange transitioning from here to there. Suluk is held four times a year at a community in the Berkshire mountains, near the New York/Massachusetts border. It's in a small town and can feel very isolated, which is good for meditation because it fosters an atmosphere of retreat away from the world - there isn't even any cell phone reception and only two public phones. But it can also drive me crazy when I'm tired of all the healthy food and need a hamburger and some normal social interaction. So it's weird to come from this crazy place and suddenly be in an airport with tons of strangers and on a plane with cranky travellers. I wonder about who they are and what their lives are like.

And then I'm home with my boyfriend and my dog and my cozy bed, and gradually my busy life takes over and whatever worlds were open close back up. That can be a good thing sometimes. I think with meditation that eventually there is less distinction between inner states and the outer world, but I'm only ready for so much at a time.

Posted by Satya at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

everal years ago I kept an online journal on this site, from about 1996-2003. I took it down around the same time I began a four-year program of spiritual and esoteric study within my tradition, the Sufi Order International (more on this to come). The program was brand new and none of us knew how it might affect us, but in its subtle and not-so-subtle ways it has been a major force in the life of everyone who undertakes it. At the beginning of my experience with the program, called the Suluk Academy, I found myself being able to write less and less on my life, because I wanted to protect my new inner experiences that were beginning to touch almost everything I did.

As of this writing I have just completed my third year, and one of the themes for the fourth and final year of study is realization - how to integrate what we have learned into our daily lives, and how to be spiritually awake in real, gritty life: on the train, at work, in traffic, at the grocery store, etc. So it seems like good timing, and I was inspired during one of the last sessions to do this, and felt ready to write about my life again - specifically about what it's like to try to integrate spiritual practice into the world.

Naturally I still have nagging fears about exposure, but we all do, don't we? Especially about truths that are meaningful. I'd like to invite you to comment on my entries if you like - if you want to remain anonymous send them by email and I'll post them for you if you wish.

Posted by Satya at 10:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)