It Only Takes A Smile

For Memorial Day weekend, I decided for a different type of getaway.  I chose an internal one.  I decided to take the plunge on my first ever gong bath.  I didn’t know what to expect, but I was up for it.  As a yogini and curious wanderluster, I find myself in surreal experiences oftentimes. 

This was advertised as a monthly reiki gong bath.  I had reiki previously, which is energetic healing on our chakra system.  I’ve done tai chi, qui gong, acupuncture, yin yoga and numerous other methods to shift my chi (also known as life force energy).  This evening’s event was to do the same.  It was a group setting in a room with a massive gong behind us, with mats on the floor as we entered the room.  Gong regulars were prepared, bringing not only pillows, but a proper duvet for this experience.  

The instructor warned us that the sound would have a healing impact.  Emotions or old memories could arise.  If they did, we were to “not think about them too deeply, but let them pass.”  Old wounds and pains could heal.  We could be expected to love it or hate it.  When an attendee next to me asked if there would be movement, the instructor informed us there would not be.  She had no blanket or pillows, as she thought it was a yoga class.  We were in a yoga center.  The only thing that would be moving is our chi.  Another individual wanted to know what would be the best area of the room for the night.  The teacher reminded her we would all hear the gongs and the experience would be what it’s meant to be for her that evening.  “Choose a spot that calls out to you tonight.”  

I wondered what was I in for? 

As my eyes closed, we were led through a brief body scan relaxation.  Then a gentle etheric sound arose.  It wasn’t the gong I expected, and the teacher travelled with this over our bodies individually, as she walked around the room.  We literally were being bathed with sound.  I couldn’t help but compare this experience to an ayahuasca experience.  Both involved people laying on mats, music playing, and were meant to be healing to our systems.  Yet for this we were solely ingesting sounds, and not substances.  

And then the gongs began.  It was very Disney Fastasia like.  The sounds appeared to be an ominous entity approaching, but they were not all consuming.  The gongs were tempered between other instruments throughout the evening.  It was as if it was a musical performance to be experienced lying down, eyes closed, in an altered state of consciousness.  A concert for our energetic senses.

I drifted in and out of sleep, as this is what my body needed. 

 But near the end of the evening, a thought arose.  

“I am a performer.”

Let me give this context.  Prior to the gong bath, I had spent the day reading, reflecting, and writing about my life’s purpose, regrets, and how I want to pivot my life.  I was writing about how we are pivoted to live up to the standards of an American dream, and queried what life would be like if we stopped trying to push agenda on our youth and allowed them to express and live into their authenticity.  As I wrote that, nothing sprung up for me.  I was unaware of who I was at my core, as I had lived up to the expectations of my family and society. 

But in the gong ceremony, I realized I am a performer.

Multiple early memories, connections, and synchronicities internally arose.

I realized that recently I was allowing that internal performer to reveal herself, but in different ways.  Becoming a yoga instructor has allowed the performer to peak through.  Facilitating retreats, workshops, and classes were all variations of being a performer.  In addition, I had been in two dance performances post the age of 40, and even taught a bellydance class.  I had an understanding that my current job had allowed the opportunity for me to remove the performance anxiety I had developed over the years.  The job served as a cacoon for the performer in me to be molded, shaped, and transformed into a new version of my purpose, which I would have never imagined.  

The ceremony ended with the facilitator offering chocolate bites that were meant to ground us. 

 When I arrived home, on my front door someone had left a Swedish Jazz cd.  It was a sign waiting for me.  It made sense, I am a performer, I was a performer.  I connect with creatives, being a creativity coach was aligned with my being.  Creatives reside on my wave length.

My intuition in the morning nudged me to read the book Soul Plan, all about one’s life purpose.  Thoughts about this resided in my head all day, and I was grateful that this realization arose during the ceremony. 

If you have the opportunity, I highly recommend immersing yourself in a gong bath. Perhaps you will have an early memory arise, a revelation, release of emotions, or perhaps even just a relaxing hour nap. Either way your sixty minutes immersed in music is definitely an experience not to be missed.

Sundays are opportunities for reflection for me.  It’s generally the day of the week I choose to stroll to the park with my dogs and simply be.  This morning at 8:25, we arrived at the gates of the park, minutes before it opened.  We found a little nook to sit, where the sun could shine on our faces, as we waited patiently for the park staff member to open the gates.  Runners passed by, other dog walkers, couples, parents with children, and solo elderly individuals all peaking if the gates were yet opened.  Our mornings were at the mercy of this staff member to open the gates.  How often we talk parks for granted?  Open spaces that are free to the public to immerse their senses in, with flowers, park benches, and an ever evolving atmosphere of greenery. 

            I witnessed regulars in the park, particularly one neighbor who volunteers at the park.  Although she brings her dog daily for their morning walks, the walk is just as beneficial for her as it is the dog.  I observe her as she talks to strangers, neighbors, and friends with every few steps she takes. Her cocker spaniel waits patiently at her side. This is their routine, as the park serves as her social gathering place.  As we walk further along, I watch another elderly woman walk her two pet ferrets on leashes towards a tiny pond.  They jumped in for a refreshing a swim. As she walked past us, she mentioned their remaining part of their walk was to dry them off.   I have never seen ferrets puttering around on leashes before.  Our paths crossed again thirty minutes later.  I was curious about these peculiar pets.   These ferrets were only three years old, they had half of their lives ahead of them.  Their life spans are generally 6-7 years, and she noted the sadness that will arise when their time is up.     “It’s always hard losing a pet.  But in the mean time I can give them a life full of love.  

As I sat on the park benches with my dogs, I pondered on how I want to live the rest of my life.  I was 42, middle age, just like those ferrets.  How can I give the remaining part of my life the love and care it deserved?    And as I sat there, amidst the locals, I realized this is it.  I wanted to stroll in the park and notice the fluctuations in flowers and gardens and the familiarity of the elderly trees.  I wanted to feel the sun in my face without worrying of having to be in a particular place or be a particular person.

When we are children, the number one question asked is “what do you want to be when you grow up?”  Answers are occupations, which generally include years of education, overtime, office politics, and sacrifice.  But as I sit here now, middle age, I question not what do I want to be but how do I want to be.   

And so this is my Sunday reflection question for you:

How do you want to be with the remaining time you have on this Earth?  

“In a mirror is where we find a reflection of our appearances, but in a heart is where we find a reflection of our soul.” Anonymous

Yesterday I had my 42nd birthday. Birthdays in the past generally were filled with ways to celebrate my uniqueness, a time to connect with others, or splurge on myself. Yet the older I get, I realize this is actually a time necessary for a reflection. It’s parallel to the new year, as it is a time to take stock on where your life has gone and potential new goals to attain. There is a realization that if you are not satisfied, you can always pivot the course of your life.

And so for this birthday I did a multitude of self reflection and artistic projects. One was a list of 42 life lessons. This is by no ways an exhaustive list, but the points in it arose for me at this phase of my life. I pass this on to you, perhaps you may find nuggets of wisdom for your life. In addition, I encourage you to take the time during your next birthday (or even today) and create a list of life lessons for each year you have been born. You will be surprised with the wisdom you have attained. And with each year, we do not have to fear but can lean into the life knowledge that we have breathed into.

                              

“The only way to learn is to live.”

–The Midnight Library, Matt Haig

            I recently began reading a fictional novel called The Midnight Library, which was released in the past year.  The premise is a mid 30s small town British woman is about to commit suicide.  She hates her life, as it’s not where she thought it would go.  After losing her mediocre job, her pet, and ruminating on numerous other losses she decides to end her life.  But not before a surreal experience occurs.

            Nora, the lead character, enters the Midnight Library.  This a space between life and death where one can explore all other ways your life can go.  The library is filled with books of alternate endings of one’s life, and the librarian who leads her through this journey was the same librarian she had in 6^th grade.  

            Anytime I fall in love with a book, I must share it.  Exceptional books do that.  They stir up emotions, reflections, and conversations among us.  We ruminate on the impact the book can have in our lives.   This book seems to combine principles from the Akashic Records, Multiverses, Parallel Lives, and The Butterfly Effect.

            Who would you be if you made different decisions?

            What if there are parallel worlds where you did make these decisions simultaneously existing right now?

            How would this have impacted those around you? 

            I am still only halfway through, but I began to write out a list of multiverses for myself.  These are just one liners in my journal that I have jotted down who would I have been if I …

            -Stayed married.

            -Went into a different career field.

            -Never married.

            -Remained in my hometown.

            -Had children.

            -Did not have my pets.

            -Pursued my childhood dream.

            -Got married to a different person.

            -Never took that three month European backpacking trip.

            -Chose to not live abroad.

            So far I have written 100 of these multiverses, which I will probably continue to do.  I encourage you to do this same activity.  We are a product of our decisions.  Saying yes to one thing is saying no to another.  There are still numerous ways our lives can turn out.  This reflective exercise is not just exploring regrets we have, but ways our lives can still shift.

            You have the power to pivot your life in a myriad of directions.

            Who would you be if you took more risks? Took less?  Does it matter if there are multiple lives where these decisions were made differently?  I encourage you to either read this book and/or reflect on this concept of multiverses in your own life.