kissing a mango

Sitting at my breakfast table
this morning eating two fresh mangoes
I find myself
thinking that eating
a mango is not unlike
kissing.

Warm, wet, slippery
bold nibbles,
smooth flesh,
darting tongue tasting
sweetness.

the retreat - in retrospect

Day One: Monday, July 28, 2008, 2:00 a.m.

“Are you happy?”

That question, asked me by my cousin Lorraine moments before I left her parents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration two nights night ago, caught me off-guard and has haunted me in the 30 hours since.

First of all – why wouldn’t I be happy? Do I seem unhappy?

Oh, who am I kidding? I have been tremendously unhappy for months. I’m so conscious of it, I’m afraid unhappiness hovers around me like bad breath or b.o., subtly repelling everyone unlucky enough to converse with me during the course of my days.

I have a rewarding job that I love (although I often find it incredibly stressful). I am surrounded daily by amazing people who cherish me, and whom I love.

Why should I be unhappy?

I blame a vitamin B12 deficiency. Which I am afraid I now have. I didn’t realize this until Saturday morning, when I was talking on the phone with my sister, and telling her I was a little freaked-out by what I believed to be a retina (one of mine) in the process of detaching.

Our mother had a detached retina several years ago, and I have since had laser surgery to “staple” the dubious retina in my own right eye. (Those are two words – eye and staple – that should never be used in the same sentence, eh?)

I was in the middle of using the computer when I noticed that I couldn’t read the screen. There were flashing lights in one of my eyes (never did figure out which one), and a blotch like a floater that wouldn’t move out of my centre of vision. When the effects didn’t disappear after a minute or two, I started Googling “detached retina symptoms,” and had scared myself into an almost-certain trip to the emergency department of the local hospital when my sister called.

Turns out she occasionally experiences the same thing whenever her B12 is low. She described my experience exactly, and told me it goes away as soon as she takes some sublingual vitamin B12. I was already scrambling through the kitchen cabinet where I keep my supplements before she finished her last sentence.

The visual disturbance disappeared almost immediately. But I was left with the frustrating realization: my B12 is low. The fact that I even keep B12 in my kitchen cupboard should be an indication that this is not an unfamiliar occurrence. I mean, I’m a vegetarian who has often dabbled in strict veganism. Vitamin B12 is only found in animal products. But I’ve been very solidly lacto-ovo for a few years now – I love eggs and cheese – and it’s frustrating to think that even this has not saved me. (Then again my sister, who has never been vegetarian, is also occasionally deficient. Genetic pernicious anemia, anyone?)

So I’m now taking two B12 pills per day. (Hadn’t taken any for months.) Had another visual disturbance yesterday (again at the computer). Googled “B12 deficiency symptoms.” Depression, brain fog and insomnia jumped out from the list. So there you go. My unhappiness is really my body crying for cobalamin.

Then again, maybe I really am unhappy. I am certainly very much awake in the middle of the night, and that’s not a good thing.

Why am I doing this?

(The retreat, that is.)

I’m not sure. During my regular, workday existence I often find myself craving unlimited amounts of unprogrammed time, in which I imagine I might do any number of restful, relaxing and restorative activities. I crave sleep. I wish I could meditate without the screaming voices inside my head reminding me of all the things I should be doing while I’m wasting time meditating.

I feel a vague sense of unease – maybe even terror – however, as I anticipate the next few days. At the heart of this discomfort is the knowledge – which I tend to avoid voicing whenever possible – that I am lonely. Have I just given myself the ultimate dare? Can I be alone on purpose?

I haven’t figured out all the rules for my retreat yet, although I have a good working list. No internet. No telephone. I was going to try no computer, but then I got this burning desire to write, and the thoughts don’t come out as quickly when I have to transcribe them longhand.

And even then, I suspect I will make a few phone calls (I’ve been a bit negligent in telling my family about my plans, although hopefully my mom and my sister will read the item I posted on Facebook and not be too surprised or concerned).

No shopping (unless I decide to walk to the local health food store for some iron supplements, which I suspect I may also need in addition to the B12). No banking (except when I go pay my quarterly GST remittance).

Should I just give up now?

No. I want to do this. But what, exactly, I want to do is still to be determined. Am I seeking a crucible experience, where I come out the other side transformed and a little shell-shocked? Or do I want a warm-fuzzy experience where I feel at one with the universe?

To be honest, I just want to shut up the voice inside my head that never stops its high, thin whine of anxiety. I want to figure out where the off switch is. And exercise my ability to use it.

I also – and I didn’t realize it until I sat down to write this – want to write. I miss writing. I write for work – grants, reports, PR material – but it’s not the same.

So I’ve turned off my modem and wireless router (in case I can’t control the urge to open Internet Explorer), and have turned on my computer. Like it or not, I have the feeling this experience is going to be documented electronically.

Day Four: Thursday, July 31, 2008, 3:00 a.m.

It has been a good three days. Insomnia obviously hasn’t gone away, even though I’ve tried giving up ginger tea (the only recent change I could think of that might be causing the sleeplessness). But on the other hand, I’m learning to embrace middle-of-the-night wakefulness.

The retreat hasn’t been what I expected, but I have found happiness, regardless. I journaled about my experience for the first couple of days, but in retrospect it is only so much drama and meaningless chatter. I struggled with menstrual cramps and migraines. I couldn’t decide what to do, and bounced from activity to activity (within the boundaries of my apartment, and the constraints of my “retreat rules”). In the end, I spent several hours on Day One reading back issues of my favorite magazines, and that quiet pursuit was finally enough to still my screaming mind.

Day Two, I threw my healthy eating regimen out the window and bought a bunch of treats (ice cream, strawberries, cake) to take my mind off my ongoing physical discomfort (more cramps, more migraines). Paid my GST remittance, bought some stamps. Got in the habit of going for a walk in the late afternoon or evening. Was a little distressed by the fact that I didn’t seem to be doing much spiritual work, but I told myself if I was happy, it was all good.

And strangely enough, I was happy.

Day Three (yesterday) I spent a lot of time working with my hands: cleaning, cooking, trying to pull staples out of a chair I’m refinishing, knitting. For months now I’ve been listening to the Eckart Tolle CDs that Brainerd gave me for my birthday, but not until now have I really started to understand what it means to be present. Or rather, before now I haven’t spent much time actually BEING present. Present is good.

It has been a good three days. I could continue the retreat today, but no longer feel the need. Ultimately, I guess I had to disengage from my regular life in order to find a way to return to it in a new way. I could go back to work today and it would be all different.

I’m going to enjoy the rest of my vacation, though. And I highly recommend Tolle's A New Earth. It would not be overstating the case to say that it has saved my life.

the retreat - preparations

I'm on vacation.

Other than the obligatory week I usually take off between Christmas and New Year's, I don't remember the last time I actually had a holiday. Oh wait - yes I do. I went to England the spring my nephew turned one. Missed his birthday. He's nine now. 'Bout time I had another vacation, eh?

I am writing this with a splitting migraine, so it's going to be much shorter than I'd anticipated. But I'm doing something that some people might consider very strange: I'm having my own little silent retreat, starting tomorrow, for four days.

I haven't figured out all the details, yet. It's going to be here in my own apartment, and I'm going to try (try!) to avoid the computer and the telephone. I have no television. (Did I say I was going to try to avoid the computer?)

I want the retreat to include yoga, and meditation, and prayer, and chanting, and reading, and maybe some art making.

I just went grocery shopping (not my favorite activity with a splitting migraine) to stock up on food. Other than paying my quarterly GST remittance sometime this week, I'm going to try to avoid stores and businesses. And spending money. And driving. And talking. I'll probably do about half an hour of e-mailing every day, if I need to. No Facebook. (Did I really say no Facebook?)

See ya when it's done.

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have you been celebrated today?

I was talking to my best friend the other day, and mentioned an encounter I'd recently had with the employee of a client.

"She adores me," I told my best friend, basking in the remembrance of this woman's affection. "It's nice to be around people who absolutely adore you."

("And if I haven't mentioned it lately, I adore you," I hastily added. (My friend's going through a bit of a rough patch right now.))

It is nice to be around people who absolutely adore you. It's a balm for the soul. Then my friend surprised me by listing all my wonderful qualities before we said good-bye.

(She's a very good friend.)

I now find myself wishing I could return the favour - not only to her, but everyone else in my life who affirms me - and not only them, but also everyone in my life whom I adore.

Like my mom, and my dad, and my sister and her family... and my friends, and my employer, and all the amazing members of the Chorale who've been so supportive of me. And my clients, past and present, who are brave and trusting and willing to be vulnerable...

Have you been celebrated today? I'm giving away adoration for free...

the annihilation of suffering

I just spent half an hour in a virtuous, self-satisfied (but possibly ill-advised, from an emotional point of view) attempt to send blessings upon the lives of all the men whom I love, but who do not love me back. You know, all the guys I'm still carrying a torch for - or who, for various reasons, cannot choose to be with me in the way that I want (because of significant others or, in at least a couple of cases, sexual orientation).

(What can I say? I have really bad "gay-dar"...)

It is nearly spring (despite piles of snow outside my window), and my heart wants to quicken along with the birds and the bees. The natural world is on the brink of waking up after months of cold hibernation, and I long to be awakened, too...

My ex-boyfriend's grandmother called me a couple of days ago to chat, and after we hung up I found myself in a funk of melancholy - reminded (after weeks and weeks of being blissfully forgetful) of how much I had loved this man, and how much it still pains me that he has apparently chosen a whole new life without me in it.

A day earlier, at choir rehearsal, Brainerd read a passage from Pema Chödrön's book, When Things Fall Apart. A phrase jumped out at me - something along the lines of "desire is the root of all suffering," a well-known Buddhist teaching.

I looked up the reference online, and found this from the scriptures of the Buddha:

"What, however, O brethren, is suffering?...the loss of that which we love and the failure in attaining that which is longed for are suffering..."

And what is the annihilation of suffering?

"The radical and total annihilation of this thirst and the abandonment, the liberation, the deliverance from passion, that, O brethren, is the annihilation of suffering."

Umm, maybe I'll take suffering... LOL

(Read the entire passage, here.)

Seriously, though - while it is agonizing, this longing I feel for the men I cannot be with - would I really wish it away? There is a deliciousness to the peculiar dances of the heart that I cannot abandon.

And then today I found myself reading an article about Rumi in the latest issue of Spirituality and Health, and I discovered that the great Sufi poet had an intense (non-sexual, apparently) attachment to his mentor and teacher, Shams.

I am in love with You.
What's the use of giving me advice?
I have already drunk the passion.
What's the use of candy?
They say, "Bind his feet in chains,"
but they can't bind up my crazy heart.

Shams eventually disappeared, likely fallen victim to assassins. "With Shams gone, the final veil was removed, and the sun (Shams) of Rumi's own heart could be revealed. The love that had been awakened could now be realized as an attribute of Rumi's own self. Rumi would later be able to teach with conviction:"

There is no Love greater than Love with no object.
For then you, yourself, have become love itself.

And so I found myself sending blessings to all the men I love: the ones with wives, the ones with ex-wives and new partners, the ones who swore they never wanted kids and have now become fathers with other women, the ones who are still single but apparently never wanted to change that status with me, and of course Mac, who seems to believe that a career as a singer and happiness with me are mutually exclusive.

I sent them love, and I sent them good wishes for the lives they are now living. I blessed their families and their well-being.

They may not have chosen me... but they may allow me to be revealed to myself...

to cut or not to cut

Hello beautiful person! This post, with 100% of its scintillating original content, has been moved to my new personal blog, emelgy. Thanks for visiting!