Ask the Priestess

My friend had sent me a photo of a spot I recognised. It was where they hold static hot-air-balloon vertical "trips" in what used to be my local park. The photograph had been taken in the evening, thus the light was elegant; not completely dependent on the street lamps, yet mostly made up of their output. The grass and plants looked blue, rather than blatant green, due to the lighting. The path was orange, as though burnished gold pebbles had been scattered around.And there, in the slight depression in the middle, a definite cushion of cloud hung. Ghostly, haunting, and eerily calm. Even though it was a picture, you could look at it and believe you were hearing the dampened silence of nothingness. It was a scene of peace.  Elian (my friend) and I were sending voice messages back and forth, as we usually do. Talking about the image, the difference between "niebla" (fog) and "bruma" (mist) came up. Language wealth is a magnificent exeperience. The fact two s...

The little girl ran down the driveway, arms wide open. At the end, her father was waiting. He hugged and raised her up, both of them laughing. It's an amazing experience, when you're young and someone lifts you up, up, up, so high up your innocent self cannot fathom life from such perspective. You fly, arms and legs straight out without having to be prompted. You fly in circles, daring in your adventure, ready to touch the tops of trees, of mountains, of clouds. You fly, securely held in the warm grasp of the hands you trust. You fly, spinning around the axis of those hands. When young, flying takes a single leap of faith and unchallenged trust. It is all about the moment, the experience. It is round and circular, like the outline of an embrace. When you age, flying is very different. It becomes a long process, full of steps: planning, booking, packing, waiting, documents, usually uncomfortable spaces and/or unappetising food, more documents, more waiting, unpacking. And all th...

 It was a bit of lichen, but when I looked at it, it seemed to talk.  'HA!' it said. I stopped mid-sentence to my friend. And I smiled. To be honest, I don't really even recall what exactly we were talking about. We were doing some insight meditation, which we call a "tune-in". I know the gist of our conversations, but not the specifics. It's only been 24 hours, yet I have forgotten most of those small details. But the lichen? That I remember.  I often think about how insignificant my life is. It is nowhere as impressive as that of other people. I have few grand things to talk about. This blog, which I had long left aside, shows just that: it is a collection of small details, of snaps of thought. They are perceptions of life, my interpretation of the world around me. There are many amazing similar collections, though far more impressive, such as Marcus Aurelius' Meditations . They are small realisations, reminders, rules for a better life. I recognise the...

It was a bright point in the dark sky. Then, there were others. And the Moon, nearby. It turns out, we could see 4 planets shine together in our night sky a couple of days ago. I am certain I had read about it, but living in a northern country (yes, I've moved since my last entry. Welcome back!) I must have assumed it would be cloudy.  It wasn't. It was cold, and crisp, and beautifully clear. And the piercing lights stood out, stopping me in my tracks. Not even the Moon, filling up and shedding our shadow, could make them less conspicuous. I wanted to sit down on the grassy bank and just stare.  It is no wonder humans have long been fascinated by the changes in the heavens. I'm even curious whether we ever were not, or whether it was one of the earliest signs of a different mind to that of other hominids and apes. Whether it might also be another branch, a new step, in our evolution: homo habilis, homo erectus, homo sapiens, homo astralis. What I find particularly mesmerisi...

Oh, yes, the dream of the tropical paradise, who hasn't heard of it? Basically, it's the same as the kitschy Xmas film, or the documentaries on the lifestyles of the rich and famous in Hollywood: it's eternal playtime, people have time to meet and greet, life's easy. I live in a hot climate, and can get to a beach in about 40 minutes by public transport. The rain is measured in mm/year, and palm trees are native to the area. It's a 1st World country, so I have all mod-cons. Basically, it's quite close to the basic requirements of the dream. So, do I live in paradise? Well, no, I do not. For one thing, I don't like the heat and miss the seasons. Also, being fair-skinned, I cannot really go to the beach too often, at least not during sunlight time. Additionally, I have a job! Which, I agree, is wonderful in that I'm done at 4 pm, thus I have a lot of free time every day; but, still, it's not like I am on holidays every day. Plus, yes, there are ...

Victory - the word sounds grandiose, bellicose, or historical. Yet, there are small victories we accomplish each and every day, which can keep us afloat when we feel most adrift. Battling depression, recognising and celebrating one's victories is a major element of daily practice. Gratitude lists, so en vogue nowadays among the self-help crowd, have long been a part of therapy. Some evenings, the list fills up so fast, your hand feels nearly unable to keep up; other times, it takes effort to make up the 3-5 minimum elements (each person has their own minimum number). The crux of the problem resides in the fact that, for it to be truly effective, a gratitude list has to be genuine - you must feel honestly grateful for that bit of reality in your life. It needn't be a massive blessing. Nevertheless, it must bring you real joy, even if just a spark. Some of the things I have been grateful for, as time has gone bye and I revisit the technique, include family members, jobs, ...

NB - This is not a happy post, be aware. As the sun sets, and the stars come out, we light candles and remember. 6 million - more people than the population of some countries. Imagine a city, such as Miami, or Riyadh, or Singapore, and all its inhabitants rounded up, tortured, murdered, and desecrated. That is what we remember on יום השואה (Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Memorial Day). At least, that's the main idea. The full name is יום הזיכרון לשואה ולגבורה - (Yom HaZikaron laShoah velaGvura) Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day. Behind the title, there is the pain of loss, as well as the remembrance of the heroic fight for life each of those people engaged on, whatever form it took: rebellion, submission, adaptation. And then, the heroic continuation of life for those who survived, fighting daily with their own memories, with the weight of survival where so many others did not make it. We cry for those who were taken away, but also for those who carry the horrors within them. W...