Oblivion

Overwhelmed by spam, I left off posting for longer than usual. But after Angel Bill did a spam-be-gone treatment, I have a fresh clean blog again.

And this brings me to getting to practice. There is usually so much spam in the way. Even when I actually get onto the mat, I let the details of life batter me. I spend quite a while fighting the assault before respite reaches me. This has always been true for the Seeker. Life is busy. Life is full. No Path is free of being overwhelmed by both real and questionable obligations. We all suffer these. But we have to get beyond them.

I taught on my beloved Cape Cod this weekend. Ann Miller spoke beautifully, with an edge in her voice, of just this wall in her Dancemeditation that day, of her fatigue, of dancing that morning and wanting to lie down and sleep for ever, of wanting oblivion. This inspired a period of conversation in the group. Many people recounted a similar impulse. For some, the wall was true fatigue. For others, it was woven with confusions, or lethargy, or escapism.

When I feel the urge for oblivion it is not escape from life’s responsibilities. It is a desire––no, a need, a deep longing, a craving––for unity with the All-Pervasive Subtle. Sufis call this sort of oblivion fana, These days my reaching in practice and in workshops is more urgent. I am impatient with the amount of time and energy I spend on the meaninglessness of spam and all that the metaphor implies. I know quite well what, in my overfull life, I truly value. Spiritual path makes me make choices towards spiritual growth. I recognize that just because a thing is hard, painful, or monotonous it is not necessarily spiritual growth; the latter may be maturing but, for me, it does not usher in the bliss of Surrender. I need my practice for that.

In mysticism, development is marked by surrender. Surrender into the moment is one idea. Surrender to the Unified Subtlety is another idea. Surrender to my movement as I dance is another. So in my practice, I practice surrendering to my body’s motion. She moves and I am with her, listening. I trust her. I trust that, like a guide dog, she knows the quickest way towards the bright scent of Communion. And it is the Communion I seek.

I crave the Divine as I never have before. Bliss and ease. From there my return to a world of details comes with breath and spaciousness, with perspective. Wall Street is up. Wall Street is down. I wash my dishes. I call my mother. I kiss Ric. All the while my heart spins like a tiny top, a speck of stardust, a pure pinpoint.