Under the Sea

I come from a large family of educators. Hard working people with strong values who believe that learning is a lifelong endeavor, that we must be open-minded, compassionate, and tolerant. That we must teach, mentor, and guide others as we not only bestow knowledge, but also evolve, redefine, and transform our own way of thinking…constantly challenging paradigms, looking at things from different perspectives, and in courteous and gentlemanly fashion, debate opinions, beliefs, and schools of thought as opposed to just accepting the status quo, or blindly accepting information as fact or doctrine.

The photograph in the picture you see before you is one of my favorites. It is of me and my father during a family beach trip when I was just a boy. As I was looking for Captain Morgan’s treasure snorkeling, my mask kept fogging up, causing me to surface and momentarily halt my meticulous scanning of coral and rock along the clear, ocean floor. Seeing my frustration, my dad patiently came over to help. He showed me how to ensure a proper seal and fitting, but he also taught me that you could spit onto the glass inside the mask and spread the saliva (preferably not with your fingers), to prevent the moisture build-up. I watched intently as he dipped the mask in the water after coating it and then had me put it back on.   

I never questioned this unconventional problem-solving method because it hadn’t been the first time that he’d shown me how to troubleshoot on the fly. Miraculously, my mask didn’t fog up anymore, and I was able to get right back into the game, gazing at tropical fish, looking for seashells, and of course, the hidden treasures awaiting my discovery.

As is the case with most of these teaching moments, in hindsight, I realize how much more my father was really imparting than just that singular lesson. It wasn’t so much that one could simply prevent a mask from fogging up with spit, it was also, beyond the surface, a series of life lessons that I would eventually carry with me for the rest of my life. In the moment my dad took to show me a life hack, he embedded in my mind a way of thinking and looking at the world. He showed me that oftentimes there are unusual or unthought of ways of problem solving…essentially, how to think outside the box as it were. He demonstrated, that even out in the ocean devoid of tools, you can solve a problem using your immediate environment, or even your own body, but that you have to look, be open-minded, and willing to accept that your answer might lie where you least expect it.

This picture is on my dresser for the specific reason to remind me at the dawn of each day to remain open-minded to new ways of thinking, to challenge conventional paradigms, to seek and impart knowledge, and to be compassionate and patient with others who may be struggling. This photograph serves as an aide-mémoire to always look in unexpected places for a solution, to help others whenever possible, and that even out at sea, without tools or technology, you can defog a snorkeling mask, and that oftentimes, the greatest treasures in life are not buried in the sand or even found under the sea at all, but waiting to be discovered within us. 

Coastal Musings

Surreal indeed... a body part to the ethos of those inexplicable moments of pure heaven in which life overwhelms us; inspires us, cleanses, and melts away worry and angst. Those moments we commune with nature...inhaling atoms that once traversed the bloodstreams of our kin, whose feet tred before ours leaving both imprints in the earth, and in the pool of the universe whose ripples have now returned from whence they started. 

I sit above the ocean as do seagulls floating upon a wind's capricious breath; a feather at the mercy of vicissitude  and chance. Below, the waves' frothy fingers pour over the jagged rock, winding and weaving through the contours of time; cavernous wrinkles upon a swarthy, weathered face caressed and soothed by every breath the ocean exhales. 

I feel lucky in these moments...blessed even. As stressful and as difficult life can be to navigate and comprehend, what is always effortless is the soul's inherent ability and desire to do what it craves most, to be. The sound of waves are soothing, calming, and comforting...pleasant reminders that life, the world, the universe and everything in it is part of something greater, whether by design or accident, that has already been set in motion on an indiscernible direction and path. All we know is that we are an inextricable part of this harmony, residents of the same pool in which all of our actions create ripples that in time, will return to those who set them in motion. Which, logically, leads me to believe that God exists...waiting for us to return.

But this isn't what should concern us...when we create art, when we make love, when we run or cry, or laugh as we splash in water, or when we are tickled...we do not care why. Our souls are expressing themselves as they were intended to; unbridled, naked, unrestrained and without boundaries. In turn, we should not worry about where or when we shall return from whence we came, but let our hearts sing when they are compelled to do so, and enjoy every wave, every gust of wind, every kiss, every caress and let the feather fall where it may. 

Double-edged Pen

One of the things I love about writing is that I get ample time to choose the right words and combination of words that most accurately express how I feel or what I’m thinking. In school, when a teacher mentions an essay, I smile confidently while most of the class responds with grunts and whines of disapproval at their unfortunate luck. I relish in the opportunity to write, while those with the gift of gab would prefer extemporaneous speech.

When you’re speaking, there’s no reset button, no redo’s, or take backs. Once it’s out, it’s out. (More painfully so of that almost invisible spray of saliva that somehow escapes us on rare occasion) Sometimes, you can clarify, elaborate, or elucidate, but once the vibrations of your initial utterance take form, there’s no going back. Since there is a greater degree for misinterpretation and poor selection in regards to words that are spoken on the fly, I often choose to write to someone instead, particularly, if there are feelings involved. However, there is a lot to be said about verbal and non-verbal feedback that you miss out on, like the telling nuances of facial expression and body language. Also, not being there to explain something they might have misconstrued, and not finding out immediately how they feel about what you wrote is a part of the trade off. In either case, choosing your words wisely is an understatement.

For as far back as I can remember, I’ve always written poetry. Eventually, it became a form of catharsis, a way to release emotions. Over the years, it stuck with me and was my solace in times of emotional uncertainty or turmoil. When I am inspired or passionate about something, I am compelled to write. Words are how I interpret my own sensory data about the world around me, and a way to share that information. Interestingly, there is an aura of vulnerability, a window to the soul that is opened when pen meets paper, and stays that way long after the candlelight is extinguished, or the glow from the monitor fades.

Writers are an interesting lot. We write for many reasons, and while many of us write for ourselves, there is still a desire for reassurance, admittedly or not. Just as with any other art, writers want to elicit emotion, persuade thought, inform, or to know, even in the smallest way, that they are appreciated. We want to know that our toil was worth it. We want validation; a modicum of recognition, whether a knowing nod or a pat on the back. It isn’t easy to get in front of a group of people to talk, but with practice, you can master all the little skills that come naturally to us during regular conversation. When you speak, you can be whoever you want. You are the gatekeeper and can choose to reveal as much or as little of your true identity, peeling back the layers with slow and deliberate action, or ripping them off like a band-aid. However, written words provide a direct portal to your essence, a window to your being...they are a giant aquarium that passersby can look through and point with wonder.

The Help

I recently had a conversation with my dad about my last blog post. He mentioned that most of it was over his head, but what he did share was that he remembers back to the three years he spent in seminary, when he had to meditate for an hour and half each morning. He remembers how grounded it made him, but he also recognizes that he was young and inexperienced. He explained that they were encouraged to meditate on specific things, but weren’t told exactly which ones. My father feels that had he meditated later on in life after garnering more experience, he could have benefited more. What stood out to me in those words was that even though he claims to not fully grasp the deeper layers behind meditation, he is fully cognizant of its power.

According to Deepak Chopra, meditation is not just about reaping the therapeutic benefits of slowed breathing, improved immune function, and melting stress. Meditation is more about going within, or tuning into one’s self. Quieting the mind is about accessing the gap between thoughts, which is the gateway for tapping into the field of pure potentiality, and ultimately accessing infinite creativity and imagination. Furthermore, through meditation, one learns about the power of intention that orchestrates its own fulfillment, which many refer to as the law of attraction.

What I think Dr. Chopra was describing, in a rudimentary way of looking at it, is that the more we meditate, the more we harmonize our consciousness. We think more clearly, we de-clutter the deluge of thoughts we have each day, we learn to let go of our egos, and allow the universe to unfold as it will. It’s kind of like running a defragmenter on your computer. It runs more efficiently and smoothly. Through meditation, we are allowing ourselves to run at optimal levels. I think people are misled by the idea that one can change his or her life simply by thinking positively. This is a way how people often interpret what happens to them when they meditate, but positive thoughts alone do not manifest happiness. In fact, Dr. Chopra believes that holding on to that idea too tightly may just cause you more stress. 

For me, besides the obvious physical benefits, what I get most out of meditation is detachment and surrender. Firstly, I get to take a step back from life’s hectic pace and detach myself from thought, feelings, judgments, and expectations. I guess, I do to my mind what I help other people do to their body, which is relax it. Surrendering is letting go of the ego’s illusory control and recognizing that life will show me what I need to see when I’m ready to see it. There is a greater plan at work, and I can either spend my time uselessly fighting the current, or joyfully enjoying the waves. 

Transformers

Sometimes I feel as though I lead two lives. While I’m at work, I’m tapped into the mother ship. My heart and soul naturally gravitate towards the Center’s vortex of healing and nurturing energy. As though a monk’s apprentice, I am ever diligent and mindful. My body speaks to me, I listen. I hydrate, I meditate, and make conscious efforts to nurture my vessel with healthy and powerful sustenance so that I can not only facilitate my own transformation, but be ever present and grounded to help guide others through their own journeys. Being a massage therapist is hard work. Being a conduit for divine energy, guiding others towards healing, and holding space for those who must navigate uncertainty and change, adds another layer of demand on my body and its resources no matter how gratifying my efforts may be. Needless to say, I too need to replenish and rejuvenate in order to provide the best possible atmosphere for my guests.

However, when I am too far to feel the gravitational pull of the Center’s energy, it seems as though I unplug from the matrix. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t engorge on fast food, engage in voodoo, or moonlight as a serial killer, I’m just not as mindful towards ensuring mind and body balance. I still work out, feed my mind, and generally eat healthy, but I feel I still leave a lot on the table in regards to optimizing my body’s processes and guiding my spirit towards greater fulfillment. Ideally, I’d like to be eternally in tune with the universe’s plan. I don’t necessarily mean that I wish to know exactly the path that lies before me, because let’s face it, that would be boring, but I definitely want to be more acutely attentive to its voice.

How does one go about this you may be thinking? Well, I intend to follow another piece of advice I usually give my guests who visit the center to undergo Panchakarma, a powerful process of purifying the mind, purging the body of built up toxins, and increasing vitality. What inevitably happens, is after people have overcome some challenges, healed themselves, or simply replenished their batteries, they go right back to doing the things that brought them to us in the first place. We are only human, yes. And all of us, even the most mindful and transcendent souls, eventually need to rid the body of toxins and blockages. However, the idea is not just to heal enough to get back into the ring, but to incorporate lifestyle changes in one’s life until it is realized that one doesn't have to be in the ring at all.

I find that so many of us approach life in this manner at times. Our minds create the perception of struggle. Our egos immediately manifest an attitude of having to overcome, to be victorious. Before we know it, it seems like we are exchanging blows with the universe. I don’t think I need to tell you who really wins do I? Well, in my case, let’s just say I’m glad that heavily padded gloves are involved.

What I usually tell my guests before the they ride the waves of bliss back from whence they came, is to take at least one thing they learned while with us and commit to integrating that one thing in their life until it becomes a habit. Forget changing your entire way of life overnight. It can be done I’m sure, but such drastic changes are unrealistic and unfulfilling. Take small bites. Chew. Meditate for ten minutes every day, take up yoga, or make a vow to give up frozen foods. Whatever it is, tackle small endeavors and revel in achieving them. I’m going to start meditating with more frequency. I find that my writing tends to go to another level when I do. At times, it feels that inspiration looks for me, instead of the other way around. Sometimes, I even conjure something clever, funny, or inspiring. Joy and abundance are rarely achieved by climbing a mountain, but more often by smelling the flowers along the way. See, it’s working already.

Three Cups of Tea

Working in a luxury resort has many perks, one being that I get to meet and work on celebrities. Unfortunately, we have a very specific protocol to follow which limits the interaction we can have with our clients, putting a significant damper on my ability to find out the most coveted secrets in life, such as who will be leaving the cast of Gray's Anatomy, what new nursing show will emerge, and if Chuck and Blaire will reunite. I am, however, privy to other sources of intrigue, with the plethora of affluent eccentrics I meet, that love to talk about their work.

Sometimes, when the stars align just right, I am blessed with opportunities to work on real genuine earth shakers. People who are special beyond belief, people who are grounded, intelligent, and humble; humanitarians who make the world a better place, people. . . . . like Greg Mortenson.

Greg Mortenson has been promoting education and literacy for children in remote villages in Afghanistan and Pakistan for over 15 years. He speaks at over 125 schools a year, and briefs U.S. Marines on Afghan customs and traditions prior to their deployment. He wrote the number one New York Times best seller, Three Cups of Tea, that chronicles his failed attempt to summit K2, the second highest peak after Everest, that is found in the Himalayan mountain ridge in Pakistan. During his descent, he becomes lost without food or shelter and roaming aimlessly on the verge of starvation. Eventually, he stumbles upon a remote village in Pakistan, where he is nursed back to health and vows to return to build the impoverished town a school. What follows, is the recount of the trials and tribulations of a man determined to spread literacy to a nation bound by thousands of years of tradition and violently skeptical towards Americans.

Three Cups of Tea, is is absolutely amazing and is only surpassed by Greg's inexorable passion for building schools. You can learn more about the book, and Greg, here.

I cannot accurately express how honored I was to be his therapist the day he came into my spa. When I saw the name of my first guest that morning, I thought it peculiar that it was similar to the famous author, but dismissed it as coincidence. All doubt was removed when I went to greet him. Greg (as he insisted I call him) had an enormous frame, unmistakable smile, and although soft spoken, had a commanding presence. I am not easily starstruck, but in this case, I was as giddy as a teenager on a first date.

During the massage, we engaged in some of the most riveting conversation I have ever had. I asked him questions about his adventures, and listened to him talk about his passion and expand upon events in the book. I couldn't believe that I was actually talking to this man, it was so surreal. At times, I felt like a journalist in an exclusive interview. We talked about his family, current projects, and the eminent arrival of his second book. Greg and I also talked about other books we liked, and he told me about meeting Khaled Hosseini, the author of Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns (Both fantastic books by the way).

Unfortunately, the hour went by all too quickly, but I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to meet and spend time with such an incredible and inspirational person. He was so humble and respectful, and thanked me profusely for my work. By the time I had escorted Greg back to the relaxation room, I knew that I had experienced one of the most memorable days in my life. It's not everyday that you get an opportunity to meet a modern day Gandhi.

The Zodiac

It's infinitely amazing to me how our souls are like prisms that filter the light of the world and project powerful tapestries of colors that do more than just describe who we are through a revelation of intricate hues. Our colors, indicative of our true identities, also harness unfathomable quantities of potential energy that can propel planets or even ignite entire galaxies into existence.

My father used to always say that every person you meet potentially carries various nuggets of knowledge and/or experience from which you can draw to dramatically improve your life. Sort of like if you were a jigsaw puzzle, and as time passed you continued to add pieces to your puzzle. You would also collect pieces that maybe wouldn't fit your current puzzle's configuration, but might be the right pieces for people whom you come across in life, (arguably by design) and who could conversely possess pieces to which would fit yours.

Personally, one of the most fascinating things I find in life are the unique experiences we share with other people. These interactions can be as short as an exchange on a train, or a manifestation of an eternal bond. In either case, these experiences imprint an indelible mark in our memories that serve a multitude of possibilities, the greatest two of which is learning and providing. Whether we learn about ourselves, other people, a song, a book, or the meaning of a word, with every encounter with another person lies the possibility of discovery, or contribution.

Being as gregarious as I am, I've always enjoyed meeting new people. However, in my youth, too much emphasis was placed on embracing these experiences and not enough was placed on cultivating existing ones. With the passing of time and the expansion of family, I have a greater appreciation for the things that truly matter in life and am trying to put more effort into developing current relationships. However, I've never quite lost the fascination with meeting new people and discovering what they might have to offer. I truly believe that the people we meet represent an important facet of our lives and although they may not always provide necessary puzzle pieces, it doesn't mean they can't influence the colors of your puzzle, or even change the very image your canvas portrays.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

I hope everybody had a wonderful Easter. More appropriately, I hope you enjoyed your day off gorging on ham, potato salad, and fountains of endlessly flowing chocolate. Although I'm a little too old for egg hunting, I did chase a bunch of hoodlums through the neighborhood with a BB-gun. Baby Jesus would have been proud, since I had originally given it up for lent.

Over the past few years I've become one of those Holiday Catholics. You know, the people that only go to church on Christmas, Easter, Ash Wednesday, and so forth. The thing is, I sort of slipped away from Catholicism many years ago and started going to a non denominational church where they sing happy music and every one's always so happy to see you, and they have a happy choir, and a happy band, and the Pastor smiles, and people talk, and there are no paintings of Jesus, or Mary, but if there were any, I'm sure they'd be happy too. I was shocked when I first walked into one of these brightly lit, so called churches to see people talking, smiling, clapping, and singing. What the hell is going on here, I remember thinking. Why aren't these heathens spontaneously combusting into flames for these acts of sacrilege? And where is Jesus? Who stole Jesus?

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Catholic churches and ceremonies, it is quite the opposite, particularly if you are from Latin America. Let me explain, I'm sure you've all heard of the infamous Catholic Guilt. Well, Hispanics are infamous for adding a little flare to things, as I'm sure you are aware (Who do you think invented spinning rims?). When you go to a Hispanic mass, you are made to feel that you were the one who just killed Jesus. The churches are large cathedrals decorated with somber remembrances of Christ. Every depiction is of him either on his way to crucifixion, or the brutal sanguinary act itself. Jesus is almost always bleeding, and there's always a good one, or two, of Mary holding his lifeless body after he had just died and been stabbed in the side with a spear for good measure. It is always extremely quiet and hundreds of candles adorn the entire church, but mostly at the feet of statues or in designated areas where people are encouraged to light more candles and pray. Usually the only uplifting paintings are symbolically on the ceiling or stained glass windows high along the towering walls. The artwork in these places is out of this world, but so are the attempts to instill copious amounts of guilt and fear. Also, there is never any air conditioning, so you go in your Sunday best to sweat like a whore in church (how convenient). I often wonder if that effect had more to do with strategy than economy.

With all these practices, images, and traditions so intimately interwoven into my religious upbringing and branded to memory, it's no wonder my affair with another religion didn't last very long. I suppose I either became too guilty, or became increasingly suspicious of all the damn happiness. Surely, something was awry, nobody can be happy all the time. And electric guitars? Gimme a break, a dead giveaway of Satan's work. I never did get to the bottom of why lightning bolts didn't rain from the sky to disintegrate all those happy do gooders, but I'm sure they'll get theirs eventually.

My issues with the Catholic Church are probably similar to most people's, like confession, praying to saints, and priests not being able to marry. I have to admit though, I never really believed in those things anyway (well, confession yes, but not to strangers). I guess I've always known that your relationship with God isn't dependent upon those traditions, so following them was never a necessity for me.

Needless to say, I'm still looking for a cult a church with the right combination of good natured people with common sense and an understanding that faith is not defined by anyone other than yourself, and certainly not by tradition, sex deprived pedophiliacs, or a bunch of dudes in funny hats who are more concerned with politics (or who has a bigger hat). Whether you call it salvation or enlightenment, we all have an innate and undeniable desire for our spirits to want a connection with their origin and each other. And I believe that that origin is Love, which many people refer to as God. It's really funny to me that people spend so much time looking for God when he already resides in all of us. When asked if he had found Jesus, Forrest Gump replied, "I didn't know I was supposed to be looking for him". I couldn't have put it any better Forrest, funny how the mind can get in the way sometimes.