The Dance of Dark and Light

As heavy, icy snow covered the hills today I glanced back at last year's January 12th blog post and found a similar wintry scene, the same hint of depression, the same longing to follow a dream that feels, much of the time, as if it's buried beneath fear's covering like the dormant flowers just outside my window, waiting for spring. How can one be at once so close and so far from something?

Last year on this date I hid from having to venture out in the snow by taking a vacation day from work. This year my job doesn't include any vacation days (unfortunate) — but since I work at home venturing out is no longer an issue (fortunate). These days I keep both the voraciously hungry wood stove and a growing pose of wild birds fed throughout the day, dividing my time between my chilly upstairs office and the warm kitchen table, shuffling back and forth with renewed pots of steaming Rooibos. In the early afternoon I take Vixen, limpy leg and all, for a walk in the woods, observe the bright stumps of freshly felled trees, chant in an ancient language and note each day the very spot along that path through the woods that I asked the universe, may my true teacher find me, and may I recognize him when he does. That was almost two years ago now. The path curves there and the branches overhead open.

So close and so far. Don't plan to stay a wallflower if you dare ask the universe for a dance. Be willing to move. You can even strive for gracefulness if you dare. The universe is a beautiful dancer, just waiting for you to engage it.

J is working late at the furniture shop tonight so I slurp my Varan Phala alone, swirling the bits of bright green cilantro through the turmeric-hued dahl, fishing for diamond-shaped pieces of doughy chapati with my spoon. This is an Ayurvedic dish at its best: fresh and hot from the stove top, nourishing, balancing. I learned it from my Teacher's book, which I cook from more often than not for the marriage of supremely simple and strongly flavored achieved when the right spices mingle in the heat. Another kind of dance.

And though I claim to keep the news out, that's not entirely true. I hungrily read the stories about people with Mercedes pulling into soup kitchens for a hot meal. I read about tent cities. I read about PhD's working at McDonald's. These stories stack up, one after another, and provide plenty of fuel for keeping my fear stoked. That's when I ask myself how dare you think you can beat these odds? How dare you consider risking what you have to follow a path that could very well lead to nowhere? You are no beautiful dancer.

Then I consider of all the people who have done great things in this world with little more than a dream and courage and I feel ashamed of this fear, this attachment to my own comfortable status quo. The people I most admire have ventured far and wide following their hearts, usually in the face of great resistance, even danger. Do I want next year's blog post to be the same as this year's and last year's, like the snowy scene outside the window?

I don't know how long I'll cling to the wall, or which voice I'll end up listening to. The universe has given me everything I need to go forward, and then some. I trust it. Then I look around and see how much it's taken and continues to take from so many others. I don't trust it. When I look at the light, all I see is light. When I look at the darkness, all I see is darkness. "When you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you." I used to not understand that quote. Now it's clear.

The only thing I hope to acquire in the coming year is enlightenment. I'm not talking about some kind of spiritual sainthood in which I sit in a hut on top of a mountain meditating all day (though that sounds good). I just want to stop looking at the darkness, or stop seeing it,
or stop caring so much that it's there and find the courage once and for all to step out of it and dance.

PS...
After reading this over again this morning perhaps "enlightenment" was too strong a word, as I find it's overused and misunderstood as being just another goal to be reached or thing to be possessed in our society, attainable through the chase, attainable by spending enough time at pricey retreat centers.

Personally I equate enlightenment with the confidence to do what one feels needs to be done (one's dharma) without fear —like Arjuna has to learn in the Bhagavad Gita. Perhaps I should have used the word "realization" which is to say I hope to remove the blockages that are keeping me from realizing my true potential.