A few months ago somebody asked me to write this short story… so here it goes… and by the way, I want to thank to all the people that inspire me and get me to write again. It is such a liberating exercise.
It was lunchtime; I came a bit late to the dinner hall. When I crossed the door I scanned the room to check for a free welcoming place for me and I saw this sweet Japanese woman who was doing the same course as me. I targeted the chair in her left side and went to pick some of the magnificent veggie food to later sit in her table.
I said hi and she responded nodding her head. I asked her if I could sit there and she –again- nodded with a sweet smile. I felt welcomed, although there was a funny and at the same time awkward atmosphere around the situation. I attributed it to my Latin-American vibe confronted with her Japanese vibe.
We were both enjoying our meal and those precious free minutes out of the stressful yoga course we were attending. I felt it was my chance to know more about this mysterious and graceful Japanese woman. So I start a small chat. I brought up some questions about things. She always nodded. Always.
After a while, I could hear the dialogue inside my mind: is she really understanding my English? She seems not very interested in my questions. What does that Mona Lisa smile really mean? Should I shout up and just eat?
But I didn’t loose my faith, I wanted her to engage into some conversation. I find always interesting to meet people from different cultures. I always realize I have this idea of them being totally different to me and later I realize we are humans with more things in common, sometimes just with a different color on our passports.
After almost a half hour of this pin-pon game without challenger my repertory of questions was falling into scarcity. I sort of perceived she was getting a bit annoyed by my curiosity and insistence. But she was all the time giving me this compassionate look. I couldn’t decode the message at all.
Finally, she laugh. Fine! I made her laugh, I felt so proud of myself. Then she turned towards me and pointed with her gracefull, long and white right index finger the sticker she was wearing over her jacket which said in capital letters:
some notes out of the book "A New Earth" from Eckhart Tolle which appeared today to me as a magic answer to some of my day reflexions:
The remnants of pain left behind by every strong negative emotion that is not fully faced, accepted, and then let go of join together on form an energy field that lives in the very cells of your body. It consists not just of childhood pain, but also painful emotions that were added to it later in adolescence and during your adult life, much of it created by the voice of the ego. It is the emotional pain that is your unavoidable companion when a false sense of self is the basis of your life.
This energy field of old but still very-much-alive emotion that lives in almost every human being is the pain-body.
HOW THE PAIN-BODY RENEWS ITSELF?
The pain-body is a semi autonomous energy-form that lives within the most human beings, and entity made up of emotion. It has its own primitive intelligence, not unlike a cunning animal, and its intelligence is directed primarily at survival. Like all life-forms, it periodically needs to feed - to take in new energy- and the food it requires to replenish itself consists of energy that is compatible with its own, which is to say, energy that vibrates at a similar frequency. Any emotionally painful experience can be used as food by the pain-body. That's why it thrives on negative thinking as well as drama in relationships. The pain-body is an addiction to unhappiness.
It may be shocking when you realize for the first time that there is something within you that periodically seeks emotional negativity, seeks unhappiness. You need even more awareness to see it in yourself than to recognize it in another person. Once the unhappiness has taken you over, not only do you not want an end to it, but you want to make others just as miserable as you are in order to feed on their negative emotional reactions.
In most people, the pain-body has a dormant and an active stage. When it is dormant, you easily forget that you carry a heavy dark cloud or a dormant volcano inside you, depending in the energy field of your particular pain-body. How long it remains dormant varies from person to person: A few weeks is most common, but it can be a few days or months. In rare cases the pain-body can lie in hibernation for years before it gets triggered by some event.
Hoy llego una visita inesperada a la escuela de yoga que me traia memorias tuyas. Noemi me llamo para decirme que tenia que ir ya. Hasta olvide el mio telefono. Llegue y estaba ahi esperando en la sala, dentro de una caja. Lo salude y, si, era obvio que tenia miedo. Trate de dejarlo a la naturaleza de las cosas sin que tuviera yo que tomar una decision. Le di una bendicion y lo eche por la ventana. Pero se detuvo en una de las ramas del castaño. Y luego en la otra, y en la otra, y en la otra... para despues hacer un aterrizaje de emergencia cual parapente. Lo observe. Un rato. No podia ser asi. Este ser tan lleno de fuerza de vida, logro llegar al pie del inmenso castaño para resguardase del frio humedo del tercer dia de lluvia otoñal. Regrese a el otro cuarto y me puse un zapato. Me preguntaba cual era la naturaleza de esta intervencion en la naturaleza de las cosas. Escuche que era la naturaleza humana. Me puse el otro zapato. Baje lo mas pronto que pude. Me quite la bufanda para darsela. Me di cuenta que era un lugar mas familiar para el, tal vez le recordaba a su ultimo hogar. Se puso mas tranquilo, casi somnoliento para cuando regresamos de vuelta juntos. Varias personas se sorprendian, les daba gusto vernos juntos. Asi que mejor me fui al otro cuarto, y lo puse en una maceta. Otra vez tenia hambre. Estabamos uno frente al otro. Que suerte que todavia tenemos esas lindas cucharas de madera. Otro recuerdo familiar. Creo que nos empezamos a entender. Vibre su nombre, aun no estaba muy segura. Me fui. Cuando regresaba a casa pedaleando de noche bajo la lluvia otoñal, lo podia escuchar: Eli. Casi estoy segura que es madrugador, asi que mejor me voy a la cama ahora mismo. Mañana posiblemente tendre que idear una forma para ayudar a Eli a que tenga una vida mas o menos normal. Como la de todas aves. Volar. Wikipedia diagnostico a Eli por su hermosa cabeza azul indigo y costados amarillos como Golondrina. Yo diagnostique a Eli con Paraplejia.
La paraplejia o paraplejía es una enfermedad por la cual la parte inferior del cuerpo queda paralizada y carece de funcionalidad. Normalmente es resultado de una lesión medular o de una enfermedad congénita como la espina bífida.
Mañana veremos que sucede con Eli. Me pregunto si seguira ahi, si abrira sus ojos. Me quede pensando cual es el significado de la naturaleza de su visita. Caer volando en un Shala. Shala, shelter, refugio. Creo que todos venimos a este santuario a sanar. El brillo en los ojos de Eli me recuerda que somos algo mas alla de lo que conocemos como la naturaleza de las cosas. En ese lugar donde todos somos lo mismo.
***ENGLISH VERSION***
Today an unexpected visitor who brought me memories of you came to the yoga school. Noemi called to say I should leave asap. I even forgot el mio telefonino. I arrived and he was there waiting in the living room, inside a box. I greeted and, yes, it was obvious he was a bit fearful. I tried to leave it the nature of things without me having to make a decision. I gave him a blessing and throw it through the window.
But he stop by one of the Chesnut branches. And then by another one, and another one, and another one... to later perform an emergency landing parapente-like. I watched. A bit. It couldn't be just like that. This being full of life force got to the Chestnut feet to cover from the humid cold of the third rain of autumn rain.
I went tack to the other room and put one shoe on. I was asking myself if the nature of this intervention in the nature of things. I heard it is human nature. I put the other shoe on.
I went downstairs as fast as I could. I took off my scarf and wrap him. I realized this was a more familiar place to him, maybe it reminded him of his last home. He got calmer, almost sleepy by the time we went back together.
Many people were surprised, it was surprising to see us together. So I better went back to the other room and put him on a pot.
He was hungry again. We were in front of each other. We are lucky we still have those wooden spoons. Another familiar memory. I think we start to understand each other.
I tried to vibrate his name, but I was not sure. I left. When I was going home night biking under the autumn rain, i could listen to it: Eli.
I am pretty sure he wakes up early, so I better get in to the bed now. Tomorrow I may have to figure out how to help Eli to get a more less normal life. Like all other birds. Fly.
Wikipedia diagnosed Eli for his beautiful blue indigo head and yellow sides as a Swallow. I diagnosed Eli with Paraplegia.
Paraplegia is an impairment in motor or sensory function of the lower extremities. It is usually the result of spinal cord injury or a congenital condition such as spina bifida which affects the neural elements of the spinal canal.
Tomorrow we will see what happens with Eli. I ask myself if he would be there, if he would open his eyes. I was thinking what's the nature of his visit. Fell flying in a Shala. Shala, shelter, refugio. I think we all come to this sanctuary to heal. The shine in his eyes reminds me we are something beyond what we know as the nature of things. In that place in which we are all the same.
A few days ago I stayed till late in the yoga center. When I left it was almost midnight. I went home, biked along the Rhein River with a smile and a full heart. I like to bike in the night specially in summer, I love Basel because you can bike everywhere. If you have been here you know this is a fifteen-minutes-city, you can get everywhere in more less fifteen minutes.
I got home and it took me a while to find the keys, this is almost my ritual. Finding the keys, it takes me ages, I loose the keys three times a day. There is a cafe in the building where I live. It is called Cafe Ticino, sometimes I go downstairs in pijamas with a cup in hand and get a coffee. I take it upstairs and drink it in my balcony. That is another ritual. My life is full of rituals.
The Cafe Ticino is open till late. The door was open. I was still looking for the keys in the depths of my bag. I felt a presence coming closer from the depths of the Cafe Ticino. I looked and suddenly a face aroused from the darkness and moved towards me. I was frozen. This was the face of a woman I've seen sitting there already a few times. But this time was different.
The face of this woman -which I supposed was in her mid-fifties- was like a canvas adorned with a collection of bruises: a purple lip here, an eye hemorrhage there and a swollen cheek. She was standing tall, showing her bruised face with proudness and looked me in the eyes. If you have been here, you know that's not common.
I couldn't stop my mouth and asked, "WAS HAT PASSIERT?" My eyes let her know I was worried and truly wanted to know what happened to her. She replied in swiss-german, "It was a fight". When she got closer to me, I could smell she was a bit drunk, she was a tough woman but sweet at the same time. She reminded me a bit of my Grandmother Luz.
The last weekend she was walking home with some friends after a party. They were walking in the St. Matthäus Church park. That is very close to my house. They crossed the park to find a man kicking a eighteen-years-old girl. She was on the floor, crying, shouting, covered with blood and the guy wouldn't stop. To top this horror cake with a bloody cherry, there were about twenty people watching the scene, mostly men, frozen people as I was frozen while I was listening to this story.
The man stopped, the girl ran to sit on a bench crying, bleeding and shouted to him something in the most folkloric swiss-german. The guy replied, "Now I am going to kill her". My new friend -the fifty-something-years-old woman- went to the guy and actually stopped him. He turn back and within less than a second punched her. Clean fist straight to her face, that was the purple lip. She punched him back. The twenty guys around were still frozen. If you've been here, you know that's common. He punched her again, that was the eye haemorrhage. She punched him back.
Her friend threatened him and said he would call the police. The guy ran and escaped. At least he didn't kill the girl and her. After that, finally the frozen people moved. She told them, "I am sure you recorded a video with your f***in' mobile and you will play it and replay at home like monkeys, you are a bunch of monkey a**holes".
I think monkeys sometimes do better. I am not sure if this was actually more offending for the whole monkey species than for the people were there. My heart was shivering, I hugged her. If you have been here, you know that's not common. I thanked her in name of all the women and men that have been attacked in this place and only have been watched but not helped.
She hasn't said anything to the police. This kind of violence seems to be a taboo in this fifteen-minutes-city. Two years ago my friend Noemi got a kung-fu kick in the chest center by a drunk guy on a sunday morning in Claraplatz. It was a beautiful sunny day, nine AM. There were several people around, nobody moved. She would take the tram, sobbing and schocked. The guy followed her, everybody watched, they didn't say anything. Noemi hasn't said anything to the police.
I said, "By the way, what's your name?".
She answered, "Charlotte".
I said while we shaked hands, "Nice to meet you Charlotte. Good night".
I am happy to know I have friends like Charlotte.
Hoy fui a comer con Erin a mi lugar favorito en Basel. Erin es una de mis estudiantes de yoga -yo la llamo "Kiddo"- y ahora ella tambien es maestra de yoga! Kiddo fue mi primer aprendiz y siento una conexión especial con ella. Nuestro cumpleaños es el mismo dia, pero ella tiene ocho años menos que yo.
Kiddo es de California y yo soy de la Ciudad de México. Nos llevamos muy bien la mayoría de las veces. Algunas veces desatamos cosas en la otra, pero esta bien. Aprendemos la una de la otra.
Asi que estabamos teniendo esta conversación acerca de los conflictos entre nuestras tierras natales -Mexico y EUA- en los territorios neutrales de Suiza, en un restaurante llamado Hirscheneck, muy de izquierda, en el cual la mesera esta cubierta de perforaciones y tattoos. Una atmosfera de tolerancia. Nos encanta ir a este lugar.
Hablabamos de lo triste que es que la nueva ley de Arizona, la doble muralla en la frontera y otros asuntos están creando tanto enojo y resentimiento entre nuestros compatriotas. Guardé silencio por un momento (si me conoces, sabes que es difícil). Encontré significativo que Erin es de California y yo la quiero tanto. Parece que yo también le caigo bien. Sentí algo de dicha por el hecho de que al menos nos mantenemos en paz entre nosotras.
Me fui a casa y encontré unos libros que tenía que llevar al centro de yoga. Tenemos estos libreros llenos de libros para los alumnos, se los pueden llevar a casa gratis. Les confiamos por completo, se los pueden llevar y solo dejar una nota, luego regresarlos cuando los acaben de leer. (Por cierto: Regresen esos libros!) Encontre el libro de mi adorada maestra Ruthji que se llama "Una Ofrenda de Hojas". Me gusta abrirlo al azar, y eso hice.
Encontre esta historia llamada "Que Puedo Hacer?" y la leí otra vez. Fue total inspiración, encajaba perfecto con la conversación que tenía con Kiddo mientras comíamos nuestro punk lunch. Entonces me pregunté, que puedo hacer? y decidí traducir la historia de Ruth a español, terminar por fin este blog y compartir la historia con mis amigos que hablan español.
Disfruten.
con amor,
Dan
Qué Puedo Hacer?
_____________
yasmãn nodvijate loko lokãn nodvijate ca yah
harsãmarsa-bhayodvegair multo yah sa ca me priyah
Aquel que no tiene miedo del mundo, y del que el mundo no tiene miedo,
es querido por mi.
-BHAGAVAD GITA, CAPITULO DOCE, VERSO 15
Nosotros vivimos en un mundo hermoso, en el que la vida es preciosa. Estamos benditos de estar en este mundo. Aun así, hay tanta violencia. Cuando profundizas en tu práctica de yoga, tu conciencia y sentido de afección aumentan, y por eso mismo te preguntas, “Hay algo que puedo hacer para minimizar la violencia?” Así como tu practica de yoga profundiza, esta pregunta persiste. No es como que alguna vez en una “luna azul” te preguntabas. Esta pregunta se convierte en parte de ti. Esta ahí, persistiendo. “Que puedo hacer? Como puedo hacer armonía?”
Tuve una experiencia un verano en India. Yo estaba haciendo muchas llamadas de larga distancia a EUA, porque mi padre tiene mas de ochenta, y me gusta mantenerme en contacto con el. También porque mi esposo se deprime cuando me voy todo el verano, así que me gusta llamarlo regularmente. Hay muchos lugares en India donde puedes ir y hacer una llamada de larga distancia, y uno de estos lugares pertenece a mi amiga Shakunthala. Por muchos años había ido a su pequeña tienda para usar el teléfono. Cuando voy ahí, platicamos de esto y lo otro y ella hace te. (Hay otro lugar mucho mas barato, cuesta la mitad. Pero pienso que no es legal. No es por medio del gobierno. De hecho entras en la casa de alguien donde hay una computadora colgada.)
Este verano en particular, tuve una idea. Donde yo me hospedo, todos son Hindúes, incluidos mis amigos y maestros. Pero hay una sección musulmana que esta un poco mas alejada de donde me hospedo. Tuve un sentimiento de que tal vez debería de ir a la sección musulmana y usar el teléfono ahí. Como no tenia amigos musulmanes, tal vez podría hacer algunos. Era una cosa pequeña, pero se sentía muy importante.
así que fui a la sección Musulmana, buscando por un lugar con teléfono publico, y encontré uno. Adentro había un viejo que se encargaba de la tienda junto con su familia. El usaba ropa tradicional musulmana, unos collares y un pequeño sombrero. Le dije, “Quiero llamar a los Estados Unidos, puedo?”
“Si”, el contestó.
Yo pensé que trataría de volverme amiga de este hombre, el cual se llamaba Atik.
El Día del Padre, llame a mi papá, y cuando terminé le dije a Atik, “Nosotros tenemos esta tradición en nuestro país llamada Día del Padre en el cual rendimos honores a nuestros padres. Quería asegurarme de llamar a mi papá en este día”.
“Oh, si”, contestó Atik. “El Día del Padre está bien. Nosotros tenemos una costumbre como esa también, en la que honramos a nuestros padres, honramos a nuestros parientes, honramos a la gente mas vieja. Está bien que ustedes tengan eso. Nosotros también lo tenemos”. Teníamos esto en común, Atik y yo.
Otro día, le dije que llamaba a mi esposo, Robert, porque se deprime cuando estoy fuera de la ciudad.
Atik dijo, “Si. Yo trabaje en Arabia Saudita por seis años, y tuve que dejar a mi esposa, solo la veía muy poco.” El dijo que estaba muy deprimido de estar separado de ella, así que también teníamos eso en común. El sabía como es estar lejos de tu esposa, cuanto los extrañas. El lo entendió completamente.
Nos volvimos muy buenos amigos, Atik y yo. Por diez semanas, yo usé su teléfono muchas veces. Su esposa e hijas estaban normalmente en el patio –ellas son modestas debajo de sus velos- pero se asomaban y yo les saludaba con la mano. Ellas me sonreían y yo sentía que también era su amiga.
Algunas veces estaba en el teléfono y Atik me traía un poco de té y galletas. Entonces hablaba con Robert mientras remojaba mis galletas en el té. Esta amistad era pacífica y buena.
Cuando me ya me iba de India, quería llevar algunos dulces para la familia y decir “adiós”. En India, la gente es muy hospitalaria, y siempre traen regalos. Es un buen tip. Cuando vayas a donde sea, lleva algo: dulces, flores. Es una forma linda de vivir. Yo aprendí a no aparecerme con las manos vacías, la mayoría de las veces.
Así que llevé unos dulces y le dije a Atik, “Yo soy estadounidense y judía y tu eres musulmán, y hay violencia entre estos dos grupos en el mundo; pero el hecho de que tenemos tan buen entendimiento siento que es muy significativo.” Estaba ahogada, y me sentí vulnerable, al hablarle a este hombre musulmán, que era suficiente viejo como para ser mi padre, y decirle estas raras conclusiones que yo estaba teniendo. Estaba un poco nerviosa al confiarle, decirle lo que esta en lo profundo de mi corazón, que nuestra relación importaba en un nivel global. No tenía idea de cómo el iba a reaccionar.
El me dijo, “Si, yo se exactamente lo que quieres decir. Se exactamente lo que quieres decir.” El dijo que tenía muchos clientes que eran Hindú. Debido a que los Hindúes y Musulmanes también pelean, el se sentía honrado cuando los Hindúes venían a su tienda. A el le gustaba mucho. El dijo que inclusive había gente Pakistaní que venía a su tienda. (los Hindúes y los Pakistaníes están continuamente peleando sobre la frontera. Si tienes un sello pakistaní en tu pasaporte, y lo muestras en India, los agentes de la frontera pueden ser bastante groseros).
Atik dijo, “Si, yo siento que estamos manteniendo la paz, estamos creando armonía, yo se exactamente lo que quieres decir”. El siguió diciendo que el realmente entendía lo que yo quería decir. Los dos vimos al otro, la humanidad y la bondad de cada uno.
Cuando regrese a Nueva York, fui a una pequeña tienda en la esquina de mi casa. Los dueños son de Yemen, y venden cigarrillos y café y periódicos. Algunas veces voy ahí a conseguir Alka-Seltzer. Puedes conseguir un paquete por cincuenta centavos.
Me gusta entrar a esta tienda. Vivimos en la misma cuadra. Una vez me crucé con el dueño, en el otro lado de la avenida, lejos de la tienda. No estaba segura si el sabría quien era yo aun fuera de contexto. Pero inmediatamente el se prendió, sonrió, y dijo, “Hola.” Era una pequeña palabra, pero especial.
Donde yo vivo, la ciudad de Nueva York, la gente viene de todo el mundo. Esto puede ser verdad donde quiera que vivas: Cada vecindario contiene gente con muchos diferentes y maravillosos orígenes y experiencias, si tan solo nos detuviéramos a poner atención y dijéramos “Hola.” En la escala microcósmica, si pudiéramos medir la oportunidad de estar en paz con el otro, ver al otro, ser amigo de otro, y traerle cosas al otro, veríamos el efecto en todo el mundo.
Today I was having lunch with Erin at my favorite place in Basel. Erin is one of my yoga students - I call her "Kiddo"- and now she is a yoga teacher too! She was my first apprentice and I feel very connected to her. Our birthday is the same day, but she is like eight years younger.
She is from California and I am from Mexico City. We get along most of the times really good. Sometimes we trigger stuff in each other, but it's fine. We learn from each other.
So we were having this conversation about the conflicts between our homelands -Mexico & the USA- in the neutral territories of Switzerland, at a restaurant called Hirscheneck, very left-wingy, in which the waitress is covered with piercings and tattoos. An atmosphere of tolerance. We love to go to this place.
We were talking about how sad is the fact that the new law of Arizona, the border double wall between our countries and other issues are setting so much anger and resentment. I kept a short silence (which if you know me, you know it's sometimes hard). I found meaningful that Kiddo is from California and I love her so much. She seems to like me too. So, I felt some joy because we stay peaceful at least between ourselves.
I went home and found some books I had to take to the yoga center. We have this shelves full of books for the students, they can take them home for free. We trust them completely, they just leave a note and they can bring them back whenever they finish reading it. (By the way: bring back those books!) I found my beloved teacher Ruthji's book called "An Offering of Leaves". I always like to open it just randomly, and I did.
I found this story called "What Can I Do?" and read it again. It was so inspiring and significant, it just fit the theme Kiddo and me were talking while having our punk lunch. So I asked myself, what can I do? and decided to translate the Ruthji's story to spanish, finally finish this blog and share it with all my spanish speakers friends.
Enjoy.
with love,
Dan
FIND RUTH'S BOOK AT: http://www.amazon.com/Offering-Leaves-Ruth-Lauer-Manenti/dp/1590561503/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1280856036&sr=8-1
