A rosy song for life

The second night of South Africa.
A squall wrathfully has the land soaked and wet.
Lightnings ripple the dark sky.
Thunders roar onto the yellow Earth.

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A little girl around the age of 5 in the next room is amusingly inquisitive.

“What’s your name?”
“Why are you alone?”
“What do you do?”
“Why do you eat dinner?”
“Why do you get hungry?”

Then all of a sudden she bends her knees and sits on her butt on the floor, telling me “Oh! Something is pushing me down! So heavy that I can’t move my legs. Can you pull me up?” She extends her arms towards me to invite my hands to hold hers. By holding her underarms, I lift her up and have her jump back to the standing position. We repeat this new play a few times.

Her dazzling questioning continues.
“Do you have daddy?”
Unlike to the other questions, this one freezes my mind for 0.0001 second.
“Yes, I do.”
“What language do you and your daddy speak?”
“Japanese”
“Why Japanese?”
“Because we lived in Japan,” noticing myself mixing the present and past tenses, which clearly reflects my psychology. Different voices debate in my head, how honest shall I be to this little girl who I most likely won’t see again?

“I have daddy but he is now gone. Up in the…” pointing my index finger upward, while I feel awkward to complete my sentence with the word “heaven.” I skip it by replacing with the gesture. I ain’t sure which words to use to the girl. At the same time, I laugh at myself who is automatically about to using a cliche explanation about death to a kid. Is that me? Nooooo.

She asks, “why is he gone?”
“Because he is dead,” said I, without hesitance.
“Why is he dead?”
Another pause my mind has to take. That’s an interesting question. I wanna know, too. Why?

“That’s a good question. …..Because he was called.”
“Why was he called?”
This question really really gets me like lightning strikes.

Why?

(A deep breath)

Why?

A riddle yet to be solved.

“That’s another good question honey. …..He was called because it was his timing. Everybody is called at their own timing. I will be called someday. You will, too.”

Her name is Rosy.
A minstrel with a rose sings for his life (which is equal to death).

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awakened

This morning, I was awakened from a decade-long dream. A clear realization struck me, that he will never ever come back. As a matter of fact, it’s a simple obvious fact which I knew from the beginning. Well, I should say, I knew it as a piece of knowledge. But my deep inside didn’t realize what it really meant. Until today’s awakening, I’ve lived in a long long hazy misty dream where I was totally blind and didn’t grip the reality of an eternal separation. I knew. But I didn’t.

Needless to say, I didn’t believe a freaky thing that the deceased would revive. I understood that he was dead and that was it. Nonetheless, my life since then has been shaped around his death, or existence. I’ve devoted all my time and energy to accept, fight back, reflect on, heal, mad at, get devastated, and get out of his dying and passing. I disparately longed for and missed him in sinful regret, self-hatred, and despair. Without thinking of and being aware of impossibility of our reunion in this world, I exhausted what I had on the relationship with him. The magnitude of my missing him actually gave me the tremendous amount of energy to do things. I bestowed all of it on making my life and proceeding.

Upon the realization, I was astonished with the fact that I had been so lost in my world in relation to him. I gazed into space in my room as if I had been connected to emptiness.The experience of awakening from this immense dream was exactly the same as the every morning waking up from a dream or sleep and as the waking in a lucid dream while sleeping. “Oh! I was dreaming, and I am awake now.”  I never see him again.

No longer do I have to be driven to fill in the gap, which I would keep failing for good because it’s simply impossible. I miss you. But I can’t see you. I can’t change the past. I’m not meant to desire for what I can’t have. My life force isn’t for something that I can never fulfill. From now on, I’m able to beacon my energy, apart from the identity with him.

What got me practice Tibetan Dream Yoga

“Iguana bites those who don’t dream.”

– a man from “Waking Life”

 

Lately I often receive this question. Therefore, I decided to recap my thoughts.

1. Embracing death

Since my mid 20’s, I was keen to find a way of internalizing the notion of death, theoretically, emotionally, and physically. That intellectual curiosity became a fatal matter to me after dad’s death. I was immersed in a deep and stumbling exploration of death and life during the grieving and coping process . Tibetan Buddhism is one of few extraordinarily logical systemic (different from “realistic” or “viable”) methodologies that explicitly deal with death. Not all but many parts of the philosophy resonates me. I can easily relate to the world view that Tibetan Buddhism offers. Furthermore, I would like to cultivate capability of facing my own death, the art of dying. Tibetan Dream Yoga gives me a tangible technique for that. Every night, we are in a state as if we were dead. How to treat that state of mind and body and how to apply it to the time of our death?

2. Being in action for 24/7

Tibetan Buddhism utilizes the time of dream and sleep, in addition to the time we are awake, in order to optimize their practice. I hear that top-notch professionals and experts (e.g. musicians, athletes, dancers) spend in average 7 hours per day in practicing their skills. My instrument is neither a piano, a violin, nor a tennis racket. It’s my mind and body and its relationship. I want to excel at being connected to the consciousness and body all the time and expand the capacity. Why not practicing 24/7 as there is a method already!

3.  Sleep is the most stormy time

The more calm, aware, and alerted I became able to stay during day time owing to my practice of meditation, yoga, and intellectual and spiritual journeys, I noticed that I felt most exhausted right after sleep, that is, when I woke up in the morning. My karmic traits; fear, anxiety, concerns, anger, past memories, unconscious influences from internal and external worlds, innate body functions, etc. were unharnessed. The purification and detoxication happened during sleep, though it was nothing like nightmare or anything. More like a lot of hard core exercise done, my body sensed. My ability of being meditative and mindful was all gone during sleep, because I was asleep! How could I maintain it? In general, it’s considered to be impossible. But, hey! Tibetan Buddhism has developed a way of advancing dreaming and sleeping time.

Last year, finally, a serene pond of inner peace was discovered within myself. I know how to get there, as long as I’m awake and conscious. How wonderful it would be to take a a walk there while I sleep as well. I’m determined to become, “I’m asleep and yet conscious.”