to the context of this “blog”

“No, I’m not so shameless as to set about treating people when I’m sick myself. I’m talking to you as if I were lying in the same hospital ward, about the illness we’re both suffering from, and passing on some remedies. So listen to me as if I were speaking to myself. I’m allowing you access to my inmost self, calling you in to advise me as I have things out with myself.”

– Seneca (who is one of my favourite thinkers… Read “Letters from a Stoic” and “Dialogues and Essays”)

I had a couple of conversations with dear friends that led to this post.  This is just one illustration that the power our language holds in shaping our lives and who we are.  Once again, this is my own understanding.

Jackson tells Luke that what he truly wants is money.

Luke knows Jackson, and he does not believe this to be true.  Why do you want money? he asks.

Jackson tells Luke that he wants to be able to support himself and his eventual family.  He wants to be able to put them through school and to take them on family vacations ever so often.  He wants to have this security, freedom, and flexibility.

Luke tells Jackson then, that Jackson does not want money, what he truly wants is to support a wonderful family.

Jackson says, Well yes, but I need money for that.  Of course you do, replies Luke.

Jackson is confused.  So then I want money.

So, you get money, and then what? Asks Luke.

Then I can support my future family!

So then say that is what you wish to do!

Jackson is very confused and a little annoyed with Luke at this point.  How can he be so caught up over such an insignificant difference?

***

This difference is not so insignificant as it seems.  Some people are not like Jackson.  I have not met one of these people yet but this person truly believes that money is what they really want; money is their End (as opposed to Jackson who uses it as a means to his True End).  These are the people that are in the headlines in the biggest of corporate scandals but also the people whose names we will never know that truly pull the strings. It is plain to see that virtually all of the suffering in our world is caused by greed or by desiring money or profit.  When the goal is money, morals and principles seem to get thrown out of the window.

So now let’s look at Jackson.  Jackson states he wants money.  We know that what he truly wants is to support a wonderful family, but what he states is that he wants money.  Just like disrespect towards woman (which I’ve spoken of before), there IS something systematic in this language and there is a reason that many are speaking like this (so this must be kept in mind!).

In Jackson’s life there will be many, many situations in which he will have a choice to make when it comes to money.  Maybe he sees someone drop their wallet.  Maybe someone miscalculates what they owe and has given themselves an unfair deal with him.  Maybe Jackson becomes a manager of a company.  In this type of position it becomes much easier to alter things in one’s personal favor for monetary gain.  Jackson is a good man, but if Jackson is always telling others and (more importantly) himself, that what he truly desires is money then Jackson is much more likely to sacrifice morals in order to achieve financial gain (as we see many people have and do).  If a woman walking down the street were to drop her purse, Jackson would know that there would be an opportunity to get money, and he would be likely to take the purse as money is what he truly desires.

Now, let’s say that Jackson states that his desire is to support a wonderful family.  When in these situations he is much more likely to refrain from doing things that not only jeopardize his ability to support his family, but also the ability of others to support their families.  Not only this, the institution of family is one that values love and trust.  One who values love and trust is more likely to act in ways that promote love and trust.

This doesn’t only relate to specific choices or actions, but to creating a life.  Simply by changing a few words, Jackson will act in very different ways that will create very different lives.  If he is not careful, he could end up in a situation or a life that is not in line with who he truly is and he will be very unhappy.

This also doesn’t only relate to this specific situation of stating one’s desire for money.  Our language has very real power.  If we are not speaking our own truths, then it is very easy to create a reality that is out of harmony with who we really are.

Women are systematically disrespected.
Robbed of dignity and humanity.
Do we take no heed?
Do we have not mothers or sisters or daughters?
For every woman is one of these things
And at least we must see that.

But rooted even before these special family bonds
Is the real bond of oneness
And that is what we really must see.
That is understanding.

Of course we all have desires
But are we so powerless against them?
Why is the woman at fault to the point of degradation?
Is it because the guilty conscious needs someone to blame for its own betrayal of humanity and of oneness?
For its inability to control and listen to its deepest self?
Or are we so weak as we need to put others down to seem strong?

There is something systematic in this
So we must try to be conscious and think for ourselves.
The reverse is true, but I feel that it is less systematic.

“How long will they be?”

“Mmm… Probably an hour or two?”

“Ahh…”

“You got somewhere to be? Do you need to make a call?”

“I don’t think I’ll be telling anyone about this!”

They both laughed and the friendly light-skinned gentleman drifted through the doorless doorway into adjacent the room.  Henry remained seated.  The door of the small room’s other doorway opened.  A pleasant-looking latin woman entered.

“Hello,” Henry greeted her.

“Hello,” she returned with a smile.

“How’s your day going?” asked Henry.

“Oh, it’s been good,” she replied. “It’s almost done.”

“Am I keeping you?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good.” The lady briefly took a seat on the opposite side of the room just a few steps away from Henry before rising again and walking through the empty doorway and returning with a clipboard.  She reclaimed her seat.

“So,” she started,”you just have to read and sign this okay?”

“Yeah, no problem,” replied Henry.  He very much liked the lady’s aura. “What’s your name?”

“Cynthia,” she replied warmly with a smile.

“Do you have a family?” asked Henry.

“I do.”

“Children?”

“Two girls,” she replied, “two and six.”

“That’s lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said before asking, “are you a student?”

“I was,” replied Henry, “I didn’t finish.”

“What did you study?”

“You’re going to laugh,” said Henry, chuckling himself.

“Well I already am now!” she laughed along. “What?”

“Criminology.”

Cynthia bursted out in laughter.  Henry bashfully joined in.

“That is funny.”

“I told you.”

“Okay well I think I’m gonna take off,” said Cynthia.

“Okay, well have a good night!” replied Henry. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“It was very nice to meet you too,” she said before mouthing, “you’ll be fine.”

They shared a smile and Cynthia left.  Henry adjusted himself to sit upright in improved posture.  He then emptied his mind, focused on his breath, and sat in silence, his face serene and unmoving.  He sat there for some time like this.  How much time he did not know.

The door opened and two police officers entered.  One Asian and one Caucasian, both in their thirties.  The Asian man sat in the seat where Cynthia sat a time ago and the Caucasian remained standing.  Henry crossed his legs.

“So,” said the Asian, “what happened?”

“I came here to buy some groceries for dinner.  I walked through the men’s aisle on the way to get some pasta.  I saw the razor that I had bought from here a couple months ago.  When I bought it one of the attachments was missing.  So I opened the package calmly and openly in plain view and grabbed the attachment that was missing.  I don’t know why I didn’t just bring it to the customer service desk, but that’s what I did.  Then I did my groceries.  Then right before I was about to cash out, I guess I was in the spirit, I put the almonds in my pocket. Then I paid for my groceries and I left.”

The Asian paused for a minute, “You seem like a good guy.  Are you low on money?”

“No, not like that.”

“Do you work?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“At the community centre down the street.”

“With kids?”

“Yeah.”

“You know if you get convicted you can lose your job?”

“Yup.”

The Caucasian officer had been silent thus far, “I don’t buy this, ‘In the spirit’, ‘I don’t know’.”  He was much harder than the Asian officer.  “You had a plan.  You came here to steal that razor.  It wasn’t a cheap one either.”

“Actually I took an attachment.  I had already bought that razor.”

He wasn’t listening and continued, “We know how this works.  You do this all the time.  What, you only did this one time and you got caught? No.  If you don’t know why you did something, then who does?  Enough with the excuses.”

The Asian officer started to look much harder.  Henry said nothing for a while, then started, “I’m not making any excuses.  I take full responsibility for my actions.”

The two officers looked at each other and had some sort of understanding.  The Asian officer got up and the looked through the open doorway.  It had been silent in there since they had arrived.  “Do you want us to charge him?”  There was no audible response.  “Okay, come with us.  We’re going to bring you up to the car, we’ll look over a few things and make our decision.”

Henry got up at his own pace and followed the officers out of the small office.  He exchanged smiles and waves with the friendly light-skinned gentleman on the way out.

The caucasian officer led the way.  Henry walked a few steps behind him.  The asian officer led the rear.  Henry examined the caucasian.  His sharp, short haircut.  He was about six feet tall and thick.  He wore a robust uniform.  Bulletproof.  Hand gun on his waist.  Pepper spray.  He turned around to see if Henry had tried any funny business.  A number on his chest.  As they walked closer to the store’s exit, the asian officer caught Henry up.  He looked much harder, thought Henry.

“You know what,” he said, “maybe you aren’t such a nice guy.” He spoke to himself as much as he spoke to Henry.  “You do this all the time.  If we let you off you’re just going to do this again.  Who knows what other criminal stuff you get up to?  You don’t care.  We should take you right to the station.”

Henry didn’t respond as they walked through the exit doors.

Their car was parked right outside of the store.  The caucasian man opened the back door and Henry jumped in.  It was so tight!  Henry sat twisted behind the passenger seat with his legs sprawled out behind the driver seat.  This was the only way he could fit.  The asian officer sat in front of him and the caucasian in the driver.

Henry peered through the glass to the front of the car.  The officers were looking at the screen that sat in between their seats and spoke in hushed voices.  Then the caucasian officer started, “So why did you do it?  What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Ummm…” Henry paused.  He sat in contemplation as he tried to truthfully answer why.  “Uhhh… I think…”  He needed a little bit of reflection and self-examinaton to reply to this one.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself here, Henry,” replied the caucasian officer warningly.

“Let’s take him in,” chimed in the Asian, “clearly he doesn’t give a shit.”  Once again, he spoke almost as much to himself as he spoke to Henry.

Henry did not defend himself, but began to feel a little annoyed.

“You know you can lose your job, right?  We went over that?  You might not ever be able to get a decent job again.”

“Yeah,” replied Henry, his brief annoyance had subsided.  “I know,” he added calmly.  He did know.  Henry knew just as well as the police officers exactly what he had done, and the potential consequences.  As Henry regained his composure, it seemed the opposite was true for the officers.

“You know Henry, I don’t get it,” said the caucasian, “most people like you… We bring ’em in here and they’re begging for forgiveness and promising they’ll never commit a crime again.  You, you…”  His temperature was rising.

“How do we know you won’t do this again?” demanded the asian officer in a raised voice.

“You don’t,” replied Henry.  Silence followed his response and Henry rethought it.  It was true, he confirmed with himself. They would never see him again.  He could give them his word, but his circumstances might change.  Also, they’d only just met him.  They didn’t know anything about him and they didn’t seem quick to give out trust.  They could, but wouldn’t “know” simply from his word.

“You know, maybe I’ve got it,” said Henry.  The officers perked up.  They didn’t know how to react to Henry’s previous response, maybe they could get him here. “Well, I don’t know.  You guys must understand.  I think everyone has some sort of “flaw” that goes against their character.  Or is it even a flaw?  Does it really go against their character? My character?  Maybe it doesn’t… I mean you guys seem like “good guys”, you don’t make any mistakes that you just can’t explain?  That completely seem to be in contrast with the rest of your life?  That cause you pain?  Do you guys get it?”

“Yeah… I think I get what you’re saying,” said the caucasian, his voice somehow softer, embarrassed.

“Or you know what,” started Henry again, this time with more conviction, “that’s bull shit.”  Henry saw the two officers exchange glances in front of him but they said nothing, and he continued, “Well it’s not bull shit, but it is bull shit for me.  I’ve been quiet.  I’ve listened to you guys.  You guys want me to play your game.  I’m not playing it.  It’s bull shit too!  You guys are in it.  I hope you don’t believe it but you’re clearly in it.  I’m a decent-seeming young working white man who went to university for a bit.  Because of that, to you I ‘just made a mistake’.  You guys play good-cop, bad-cop, I’m a little boy who’s never gotten in trouble before, I cry, I beg you forgiveness, you threaten me to the last then you let me off, I thank you guys with everything in me and you guys feel like the good guys.  No harm done, I get to keep my job and be the ‘contributing’ quiet white dude.  Forget that.  What about the unemployed immigrant?  You guys give him the same treatment?  No, you bring him to jail and you convict him for taking a two-cent razor and overpriced almonds.  Now he’s even worse off.  He had nothing to begin with and now he’s worse off because he’s not white and working and from school.  Doesn’t he need more of a break?”

“And I know exactly why I did what I did.  I just didn’t want to crash your party.  I didn’t want to ruin everything for you completely.  I know this is scripted.  I know you have the script ready for each profile in the book.  You know what?  I’ve done it before and I’ll probably… You know what, I actually won’t do it again.  I know my job is on the line.  I know my future is on the line.  But if that happened today then I would have dealt with it.  And I would have been given more of a chance!  But I would have fought it with the people that aren’t so lucky!  The ones that don’t look so decent by your standards, or by your institution’s standards.  I hope you guys don’t believe it.  But I did it because I don’t care about this corporation.”  Henry motioned to the store.  “You think I care to take from a corporation that takes so much from me, humanity, and the planet every day? If I can save myself a couple dollars on its malfunctioning or overpriced products and hurt the corporation at the same time? Man that’s a double win.  I knew what I was doing and I was okay with it.  But you guys don’t want to hear that, you can’t hear that.”

Henry had gotten quite passionate.  He waited for a response.  Nothing.  He looked as the two officers looked at each other in front of him.  Neither of them said a thing.

“Well… uh… Henry,” began the caucasian, “you… uhhh… must of… the guys in there never tell us to let people off and they told us to let you off.  So, uhhh…”

The asian officer stepped out of the car and opened Henry’s door.  Henry struggled to get out of the cramped car, but once out he looked the officer in the eyes.  The officer returned the glance for a couple brief moments and then broke eye contact.  Henry laughed.  The officer said nothing and got back into the car.  They drove away.

Henry felt the cold, evening air.  He looked around, took a couple of deep breaths, shook his head, and began his walk home.

A group of three attractive and well put together women approached next.  At about six yards away their chatter subsided and Henry felt them sizing him up.  As they passed him by all three woman looked straight ahead with flexed jaws and slightly pursed lips.

Henry chuckled to himself and then looked up into the sky.  He could see three stars.

“Got any change?” a gruff, off-balance voice asked ahead.  Henry looked for the source of the question.  The two men passing who were asked didn’t.  They wore suits and pea coats and shiny shoes and newsboy caps.  They were both looking down at their phones and Henry moved over as to not disturb their business.

“Sorry,” one muttered as they passed.

“That’s okay!” responded Henry.  He then made his way over to the source of the question, a middle-aged Native-American man. He checked his pockets on the way.  “What’s up, man?”

“Got any change?”

The man sat with his back up against the front of the closed bargain clothing store.  His legs lay out straight in front of him.  He wore one very worn brown leather boot on his right foot, the laces untied and frayed.  He held the other boot in his lap and his left foot lay bare without a sock.  It was beyond swollen and much too large to fit in any type of shoe.  Henry frowned and felt compassion and love for the injured man.

“Yeah,” Henry replied as he continued to dig in his pockets, “but I’m not sure how much… What happened to your foot?”

“I kicked the fuckin’ wall.”

“You should go to the hospital.”

“I did!  They fuckin’…” his words turned to grumbling.  Henry looked into the man’s eyes.  They were not focusing.  His jaw was loosely rocking on its hinges.

“Here you go, man,” said Henry as he dropped a couple dollars of change into the man’s empty coffee cup.  He continued on until being stopped by a solid red hand at an intersection where he joined a group of several others waiting to cross the street.  They were all on their phones.

Henry pulled out his phone hoping to find that some of his calls had been returned.  Nothing.

Jacob

10pm in the city

Henry stepped out the building’s doors on to the concrete sidewalk.

“Hey! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day!”

He instinctively turned left, ready to greet an eager friend.  He was smiling widely.

“Oh, it was fucking horrible, he’s such an ass hole,” spoke the young woman into her headset as she bumped past him without any notice.  Henry exhaled, squinted as he pretended to be looking for something off in the distance, then turned around and went the other way.

Henry walked down the street, contemplative at first but then content and with a smile.  He saw a few people walking towards him in the distance but for now he was alone.  The sidewalks were a little quiet, probably because it had been raining on and off all day.  He looked up at the buildings looming over him, in protection he liked to think.

There was a warmth in the city that wasn’t present in its suburbs.  There was a snow in the suburbs that wasn’t present in the city.  The skyscrapers, the condos, the businesses, the homes, the cars, the people; there was so much energy, so much heat.

Starting from the tops of the buildings Henry looked them down.  He paid particular attention to the older buildings.  He looked at the wear.  He looked at the cracked brick and the chipped paint.  He looked at the windows and the outlines of the apartments inside.  He looked down to the street front at the stores.  In his peripherals he saw someone approaching and turned to see.

The young man was ten yards away.  He half glanced up at Henry then continued typing on his phone.  Henry continued to survey him and prepared a smile.  The man continued to type as he passed Henry.  There were more people approaching.

Another man, middle-aged, approached.  He was looking towards the ground, probably about eight feet ahead, and walked a brisk pace.  His gaze was fixed.  He looked anxious.  Henry looked at him deeply and quietly sighed as he passed.

Jacob

2014

Is done.  Another year.  Crazy.  For me, this one was about vidhya, acceptance, forgiveness, and letting go.  A lot of things that occurred in my life had begun to build up at the beginning of the year and were beginning to manifest as restrictions to my soul, mind, and body.

These “things” were past traumas.  Hurting others.  Being hurt by others.  Being a spectator to others hurting others.  Once strong relationships that fizzled out.  When these past traumas that built up actually occurred, I responded through avidhya and/ or repression.  Avidhya is the sanskrit word meaning, basically (and I say this meaning “at it’s most basic”), misapprehension, incorrect knowledge, or false understanding.  Repression is to subdue or inhibit something, in this case a feeling.

Avidhya in the past stemmed from not yet being one with myself and the condition’s four obstacles ; asmita (ego), raga (attachment), dvesa (refusal), and abhinivesa (fear).

For example, I have hurt others in raga.  In desiring a feeling that I may have been attached to, there was avidhya, and I acted in a way that perpetuated that feeling but did not truly understand the condition and the needs of myself and others involved.  After having acted in such a way, asmita may have led me to put myself ahead of others, playing down my actions.  This situation may have happened in reverse, with another acting as such towards me.

This is just one example of how avidhya causes unhappiness.

However, deep down at my core I would know of my wrongs or the wrongs of others.  These traumas were hurtful and very deep.  I did not want to face them.  I did not want to relive the pain of being hurt, or the guilt and shame of hurting others.  And so when these traumas and feelings surfaced, I would repress them.  I would ignore them and hide them away.  In doing this, I maintained avidhya and could not let go.  I carried the hurt around with me, and it manifestly restricted me.

In 2014 I resolved to do more to face these traumas and myself.  I deepened my yoga and meditation and did my best in practicing vidhya (or correct knowledge/ understanding).  In meditation I looked deeply at my body, at my mind, my soul, and the suffering of each.  I looked at past traumas with my purest heart and understanding and found vidhya.  I felt the feelings that I should have felt initially and later repressed.  I frowned, I smiled, I laughed, and I cried.  I rejoiced and I grieved.  I did most of this on my own but shared many of my experiences with those closest to me.

I was then able to accept these traumas and suffering as they are what brought me to where I am now.  Everything that has happened in my life has made me who I am right now.  I was able to forgive myself and others.  I made quite a few phone calls, sent quite a few messages, and was able to rebuild.  I was able to let go of the suffering that restricted me.

In no way am I saying that I am now perfect.  Far from that!  I am me 🙂  Avidhya is something that I will always combat.  I will continue to hurt others, and others will continue to hurt me.  Forever.  But being able to see my life rightly and to let go of negative emotions will help me to continue to move forward and to be happy.

2015

Is a year in which I want to give more of myself.  I resolved to do this in early December, around the same time I made my resolution last year.  I have already been putting this into practice.  I think that beginning this blog is a way that this resolve has already manifested itself?

In the words of my Uncle, “It’s kind of a paradoxical relationship, isn’t it?  The more you give, the more you are filled up.”

Here’s to another year of love, happiness, and health.  To giving and to being filled up.

*The Heart of Yoga by  T.K.V Desikachar is a top notch book for anyone wishing to deepen their yoga practice or non-yogis who wish to deepen their understanding of themselves.

‘In daily life we see people around who are happier than we are, people who are less happy.  Some may be doing praiseworthy things and others causing problems.  Whatever may be our usual attitude towards such people and their actions, if we can be pleased with others who are happier, compassionate with those who are unhappy, and remain undisturbed by the errors of others, our mind will be very tranquil.’