November 14th

And the birthday celebration continues. I walk into a local coffee shop were my friend works, and not knowing she was going to be there today, am delightedly surprised when she calls me to the counter and hands over a decadent coffee drink with whipped cream and chocolate sauce smeared on top. Oh how I love the ones who love!

Dr. Svaboda said, “Prana follows attention,” and in honor of this concept, I spend time, each day, thinking about people. I tune my attention towards individuals whom I love and even those who get on my nerves–but I do so with kindness and respect, thinking about people draws me closer to them, and them to me, making the separation less dualistic.

I also spend time thinking about my breathing. Last year I was in the hospital with pneumonia for eight days, during which I underwent lots of antibiotics, breathing treatments, and pounds and pounds of oxygen piped into my node through clear plastic tubes, and a surgery where the docs went in through my throat with a tiny vacuum and sucked out all the phlegm that had accumulated in my lungs due to lack of oxygen. I was, needless to say, very ill. However, I was determined to ride my bike again, and take in deep gulps of air like a “normal” person. So, I concentrated on my breath. Each inhale, expanding my lungs, clearing out the crap that had lodged itself inside, and exhaling fully until I saw stars in my vision. Never before had I been aware of my breath in such a profound way. One year later, I am still focusing in my breath as a way to channel my attention. It’s a great tool to use when seated, walking, riding my bike, doing yoga, even eating. The breath carries with it, prana–vital living force–the essence of being alive.

I have also been thinking about what I really want lately, and here’s what I came up with:

Inspired by the Poem Famous by Naomi Shehab Nye.

I want to be famous like I want to

be missed.

I want to be missed like a favorite

pair of jeans or a ruby ring—something

he thinks about everyday, something she

wishes she hadn’t misplaced. Sweet remorse

and tender longing. I want to be missed

like the end of a sentence–

cut off, leaving the reader with itching

anticipation wandering “what’s next?”

I want to be missed like a lover or

a grandparent or childhood. I want

to be missed like that down vest in winter,

where if you had it, you know you’d be just that

much warmer. I want to be a craving

that gets triggered every time you see the

sunshine. 

Here’s the thing:

 The Italians say, “Per dare alla luce,” to give birth, literally, “to give to the light.”

Today is my birthday, and a time to celebrate life, which includes the cycle of death. A celebration of both giving to the light, and leaving one’s material body. A time for reflection, and at essence, a reality check. I woke up with the light this morning, laying, curled under the covers, just breathing, waiting, listening for the dawn to wake up. I eventually rolled out of bed, dressed, and sat in mediation while my mind wondered to what I wanted to eat for breakfast and what possibilities this next year might bring. As my thoughts went from pancakes with butter and honey to New York City, the actualization, the experience of “Just this,” entered my body. This is it, I thought, this is all we have. This moment right, now, and right now, and right now. How awesome! I smiled as I thought about the great cosmic joke this life really is. I am thrilled to be alive, and knowing that I have so many people in my life who exude love.

My roommate did a Tarot reading with me last night, and one of the cards I pulled was the Joker, which told me to “Accept the humor of the situation, all situations.” He is the Enlightened Play of the Game of Life, and it is due time we all have a bit of humor in our lives. When things get stuck, there’s nothing like a good laugh to break the stagnation, cutting through. So here’s my joke for today, (it’s a true story):

“Hey dad, I’ve been thinking of writing more than just poetry and “meaningful pros” on my blog page.”

“Well, you have to start someplace.”

“Yes, but what do you think? It will be ‘Life According to Shinay,’ you know, my opinion on life, everything. Do you think it will inspire people? Not that anyone reads my blog besides my mother…”

“Well, you know what they say about opinions, don’t you?”

“What?” 

“They’re like assholes, everyone has one.”

We laughed long and hard about that one. Both are true, and we all have to start someplace­–remember the first job you ever had, babysitting, dressing up as Elmo in July and dancing along side the highway, selling handmade cards and lemonade. There will be no experience, unless we make it happen, so simply, start.

I was first encouraged many years ago to write a blog, and I have been dabbling since 2007, writing musings about life when I feel like I have something important to say. Yet lately that’s just not cutting it. It’s not enough to wait for inspiration to hit and then write it down, hoping someone might read it. That’s not enough. There’s urgency in my heart to create, to give, to learn, to acquire knowledge, to give that knowledge back, to perpetuate the circle of love, to be a student of life, therefore, it has come time to “start” again. I have no credentials, no letters after my name, nothing to signify that you aught to trust anything that I put on paper, yet I have lived for 24 years under the influence of Intention and Integrity and Unconditional Love. I am a 20-somehting woman, with a few insights now and again. I grew up with parents wanting something different for their children. I am surrounded with love that is unconditional, I am loved by many and feared by a few (or so I’d like to think). I am human and have the same cravings as the two women indulging in their sandwiches and wine at the table to my right. I have the same dark thoughts as that man, hunched down in the big leather chair in the corner, glaring at the world. I like to write, I like people, and I’m prepared to live by example. I want to offer the world a bit of what I have in my life. Here’s to love and light!

On this day of my birth I have chosen

you, and you, and YOU to sit with me in

this seat of Divine knowledge and forgive-

ness. I am choosing to forgive the weak

and needy because they know no better.

I am choosing to love the condemned

because they have made choices, human

choices. I am choosing to sit with the

arrogant, the angry, the foolish, and

the insane, they exist in this world, as

as I. I am no different than the

guilty.

Paint me a picture of your God, I would

like to see what you see. Draw me lines, sing

me a song, dance me a dance, pranam to

the mountain or wave your hands in time with

the stereo booming through car speakers,

let Grace breath you. Collect friends who will be

your mirror, when you forget how wonder-

ful you are. Use your words wisely, because

that’s the last thing people will remember

about you. Move with integrity, and

know that actions speak louder then words. Be

brave, life is precious. Be courageous, life

is grand. Be pretentious, everyone is.

Be gentle, be kind, be intentional

with your love. Take nothing for granted. And

as a very wise woman wrote, “Wear red.”

Her laugh is a remedy for the space

left empty by their thoughts on future plans.

His hair is an attachment to the past and

projection into the future, a symbol of idealism.

12 years of dread locks, matted into perfection,

growing lop-sided because of the way he sleeps.

Who am I to call you up to bat when the years

have gone flat and lifeless like paper cut-out dolls?

I’m standing between horse stalls, blue jean cut offs

and a tank top on, showing all my tattoos.

You choose, who you are in this lifetime.

And from time to time we get glimpses of our

truest self, unshadowed by tomorrow’s musings.

That kid over there, it’s time to cut your hair.