The Drunkard and the Lover

The Drunkard and the Lover

As I transitioned into the new year, I felt ready to begin anew, to move past some of the grief and loneliness I had been experiencing in the last week of 2021. As if on cue, I was stricken with the flu on the 2nd, which gave me even more time to examine my current state, although this time mostly horizontal, through night sweats and skull-numbing headaches.


I intended to record a video to show up in this weak, raw, and vulnerable moment, but my voice is almost gone, and I am coughing heavily after a few sentences. But rest assured, I will still let you into some of my angst through my words.


It has been a journey into isolation and loneliness the past two weeks – my two closest friends here became unavailable for different reasons, one also succumbing to a severe illness. And while I have made many connections on this lake, I am someone who does not build up depth, trust, and intimacy with people quickly. A stranger in a strange land, the expression goes. In addition, and somewhat ashamedly, I still feel the effects of heartbreak from a couple of months ago. It was a short, intense relationship that pulled on the most profound aspects of my lifelong inner feminine healing process, forcing me to face all the ugly parts of that internal relationship: the betrayal and lack of trust, the dependency and validation, the overemphasis and need for sex and eros and contact. And experience has shown me that this inner feminine, the anima as Carl Jung referred to it, tends to possess the face of my previous beloved. This is very much a work in progress and one that has invited me into a state of pause.


One bright spot in the last week has been my discovery of the contemplations of Richard Rudd: poet, and creator of the Gene Keys system. I specifically found myself listening to an album called The Ecstatics, where Rudd explores the mystical nature of some well-known individuals like Walk Whitman, Ananda Mayi Ma, and Hafez, along with some lesser-known mystics that were new to me.


I have found this series incredibly inspirational, and I was brought back to a time, 10-12 years ago when my life shifted dramatically – I was in my Saturn return (~age 29), I left my comfortable corporate job, sold all of my possessions, discovered zen, yoga, tantra, meditation, and poetry. All things were pouring in and out of me with great ease and joy. AND there was so much that I was utterly unconscious of! And certainly still am. Looking back, I can see and feel that dream of youthful optimism, reaching ecstasy without pain, without suffering, without heartbreak and disappointment. And Rudd sums this up beautifully:


The path of love involves a different kind of suffering from the path of meditation.


The path of love drags us through the world, whores us through the taverns and marketplace. And we will be battered and bruised by it.
But one day, one day we may have the epiphany… that the love on the outside is but a shadow of love on the inside


We who have passed beyond the age of 40 or so, we have learned that all is not what was promised. And even if we find it, it slips through our grasp. It eludes us, and it must do, because love in the phenomenal world is the effect of a deeper love, an acausal love, and this deeper love, this ecstasy is beyond any effects; it does not have a target; it is simply our true nature.

Two small new years resolutions/intentions I have committed to are:

  • No alcohol for the first three months
  • Drastically reduced use of news and podcasts

Both connect to the ecstatic state referred to above. Both news and alcohol are significant distractions from the inner landscape. And while I have not been abusing alcohol by any means, even moderate amounts are not in the best interest of a human healing his body from serious disease.
Rudd’s exploration of Hafez reminded me that the reason for reaching for alcohol is all too similar to that of reaching for love, except that they end up in drastically different locations. Rudd quotes Indian spiritual master Meher Baba comparing the lover to the drunkard:

The Sufi master poets often compared love with wine. Wine is the most fitting figure for love because both intoxicate. But while wine causes self-forgetfulness, love leads to Self-realization.

The behavior of the drunkard and the lover are similar; each disregards the world’s standards of conduct and each is indifferent to the opinion of the world. But there are worlds of difference between the course and the goal of the two: the one leads to subterranean darkness and denial; the other gives wings to the soul for its flight to freedom.

The drunkenness of the drunkard begins with a glass of wine which elates his spirit and loosens his affections and gives him a new view of life that promises a forgetfulness from his daily worries. He goes on from a glass to two glasses, to a bottle; from companionship to isolation, from forgetfulness to oblivion. Oblivion which in Reality is the Original state of God, but which, with the drunkard, is an empty stupor–and he sleeps in a bed or in a gutter. And he awakens in a dawn of futility, an object of disgust and ridicule to the world.

The lover’s drunkenness begins with a drop of God’s love which makes him forget the world. The more he drinks, the closer he draws to his Beloved, and the more unworthy he feels of the Beloved’s love; and he longs to sacrifice his very life at the Beloved’s feet. He, too, does not know whether he sleeps on a bed or in a gutter, and becomes an object of ridicule to the world; but he rests in bliss, and God the Beloved takes care of his body, and neither the elements nor disease can touch it.

One out of many such lovers sees God face to face. His longing becomes infinite; he is like a fish thrown up on the beach, leaping and squirming to regain the ocean. He sees God everywhere and in everything, but he cannot find the gate of union. The Wine that he drinks turns into Fire in which he continuously burns in blissful agony. And the Fire eventually becomes the Ocean of Infinite Consciousness in which he drowns.

My favorite line is: He, too, does not know whether he sleeps on a bed or in a gutter, and becomes an object of ridicule to the world, but he rests in bliss, and God the Beloved takes care of his body, and neither the elements nor disease can touch it.

Cheers to the path of the lover – willing to love wildly and freely and have my heart broken repeatedly!!!

And the need for the break from news and podcasts is clear to me – I/we are being confronted with a pandemic of fear and isolation and division, and seeking outside solutions and answers and distrusting our inner guidance is only a recipe for more isolation and separation. How much of what I’m feeling is my own making? This topic I will soon explore on its own.

I leave you here for now. In the hour or so it took me to write this, I am feeling physically stronger, emotionally more connected, and overall much lighter.

Thank you for being with me, and I’d love your feedback.

A Field of Potentialities

I am writing today from my small room in Crestone Colorado. An arctic cold front has moved through Colorado, providing us a foot of snow, and 10F (-12C) temperatures. I moved from Boulder to the Crestone Mountain Zen Center on October 1st. I feel as though I have written a blog post like this before – in fact, I did, in 2011!

9 years later, I am making a similar choice. A synchronistic set of circumstances came together to allow this to happen. First, earlier in the summer, my Zen teacher, Zentatsu Baker Roshi, who was forced to remain in the US due to the pandemic, decided to unretire and began teaching and managing the monastery again. There were some significant leadership changes this summer at the monastery and several of my closest sangha friends over the years agreed to support my teacher through this transition. Suddenly a space that had felt uninviting in recent years was very open and welcoming to me.

In June, Roshi invited me to live at the monastery in any capacity possible. As my health at that time was still very compromised, I knew I would be unable to make an immediate decision. All my advisors were very clear that making big decisions in a state of depression and ill health, was not a good idea! Therefore, I left the decision open as my health improved until I felt more capable of a decision requiring a big change. With time, I noticed my heart was feeling increasingly at ease with the idea of returning to a monastic existence, and there was some excitement at the concept of being invited to participate in a part-time manner, something I will discuss below.

This time, the circumstances are wildly different. First, I will not “be dancing on loves stage with a beautiful Dutch woman” as I wrote 9 years ago. One of the more difficult aspects of moving here was choosing to leave behind two deeply satisfying and nourishing romantic relationships that had developed in recent months. At the monastery, my risk tolerance for coronavirus merges with the risk tolerance of the entire sangha – and that is a very low tolerance. Essentially the group here is self-isolating to keep our residents safe (Three residents are over 70 and my teacher is nearly 85). Aside from essential medical or shopping trips, my only engagement with others outside the monastery will be outside walks or Zoom calls. Anyone with significant exposure outside the monastery must quarantine and test before returning to communal practice life. The positive side of this is that it is as-if the pandemic does not exist here – because of the group self-quarantine, we do not need to wear masks, we eat and work closely together, hugging and touch are encouraged and what was once normal to everyone outside, remains normal here. Today I shared practice and meals with a group of 18 people which feels incredibly nourishing and intimate after the long period of chemo and corona isolation.

Although nearly four weeks have passed since I arrived, a clear sense of timelessness has accompanied living here. The schedule, the first teacher, is repetitive and unforgiving. The wake-up bell rings at 4:30, although many of us need to stir even earlier to prepare for our various practice roles. I am finding such deep nourishment in my daily meditation. Post-chemotherapy, I took an unintended hiatus from regular practice, possibly for the longest period since I began meditating regularly a decade ago. Each morning, despite the cold and darkness, I eagerly seek that cushion, coming back home to one of the most intimate places I have discovered in this life.

I am experimenting with a part-time schedule here, participating in about 2/3 of the daily activities while allowing myself extra space for ensuring I get enough rest to continue my healing. This means I skip the afternoon work period and the evening meditation – I would prefer not to miss this meditation, but it means I would not get to sleep until past 9. Right now, I need a solid 8 hours of sleep to remain healthy and not deplete my immune system. Once I see the clock strike at 8 pm, it’s lights out for me, which seems unbelievable, although completely necessary!

The other benefit of being on a 2/3 schedule is that I have some flexibility to remain connected to the outside world with better frequency and I am continuing to pursue several threads that have become very important to me in the last year. Authentic Relating is one of the primary ones: I am teaching an online course in Authentic Relating and am also mentoring several people in a leadership development course. I have also headed up a crowdfunding project for the Realness Project where we are raising funds to get authentic relating workbooks into prisons to bring some light to incarcerated people who are facing much more difficult and isolated conditions than many of us. There are a few other threads I may describe later, but the point is that my agreement with the staff here makes it possible for me to occasionally miss part of the morning work period for a meeting or to take a couple of days here or there to teach or take an online course. Normally such half-time positions are not possible, but because I have a long relationship and a developed practice with this monastery, we have come to this seemingly mutually beneficial agreement.

I think I’ll leave it here – I had intended to reach into the subtle aspects, the emotional and spiritual shifts and reflections, however, the practical points took over!  I hope to continue writing more consistently and plan to take you all along on this next stage of my healing and evolution!

Gratitude!

Gratitude!

Hi Friends, here is a quick update from post-chemo-recovery-land.

Last week I had my chemo port removed in an uneventful surgical procedure. Today I removed the final bandages to find a well-healing scar.  I am considering a tattoo in the area (this will be my first ever), so please vote on ideas!  Here are a few samples, personally the super nerdy USB port symbol is drawing my attention.

This surgery completes my formal conventional treatment. Unless I experience unusual symptoms, my next appointment will be January 2021 for a follow-up CT scan.

After a tough period in June and July, I feel I am emerging from this period of insulation and acute pain. I am managing through a series of physical complaints that I referred to last week, as to be expected for 6-12 months after an intense chemotherapy regimen.  My hair is growing rapidly and profusely: I am even grateful for those annoying nose hairs. Without them, your nose constantly drips all day long!

I am noticing the transition of my attention from day to day survival and comfort-seeking to more traditional focuses such as relationships, career, purpose, practice, meaning, etc. More on all of this soon. I’ve been able to get out into the high country to enjoy the midsummer alpine heaven that is Colorado. Attached are a few photos from a recent solo backpack from an isolated lake at 12,000 feet.

Today, I simply want to re-express my gratitude for all the support and love that continues to uplift and inspire me forward. I originally was going to start naming specific folks – however, when I sit and reflect on everyone involved, I realize this list is too long! My family, my oncology nurses, my extended community abroad, my local friends, lovers, the random social media friends following my blog, my acupuncturist, and massage therapists, and other healers: yoga therapist, oncologist, kinesiologist, astrologers. All the staff and support personal. Everyone who delivered me home-cooked meals and groceries. All the children (and adults!) who drew me pictures, sewed masks or created some art for me. My best friends who offered or did travel long distances to be with me. My spiritual community and spiritual teachers, guides, gurus, and friends- the men in my men’s community and my extended authentic and relational communities. The dark horse podcast and other online sources of inspiration in this difficult time. May more that are not coming to me at this moment. And to all of the courageous folks in every walk of life inspiring me daily.

My eyes are watery and soft as I write this list and feel overwhelmed as I remember all of the individual acts of care and love – financial and physical and emotional and so much more. I purchased a big box of thank you cards that I intend to eventually send out – for now, trust that I am grateful and I am doing my best to pay it forward with my actions and intentions as I move forward into the next phase of life.

We did this together.

Not in Control

Today marks two months since completing my chemotherapy treatment. It is hard to believe so much time has gone by, so quickly. This morning I met with my acupuncturist Kate, in an appointment that ended up feeling much more like therapy than acupuncture! I am very grateful for Kate’s healing touch over the past months. First, she is highly knowledgeable and skilled at what she does, and more importantly, she deeply cares and deeply listens.

I walked out of her office with tears streaming down my cheeks. I do not think I have cried for a while. What happened? We started speaking first about several of the physical issues I have been facing since chemotherapy – weight gain, odd body pains, skin discoloration, and a few other things. After examining the strange discoloration in the middle of my back associated with a lot of tension, Kate starts digging a little deeper – how are you feeling, what are your thoughts about the cancer? Do you feel responsible, do you blame the outside world?

After being needled thoroughly, physically, and verbally, our conversation eventually reaches a point of discussing normalcy. This concept has been affecting me and many of you, as we learn to live with the societal changes coronavirus has thrust upon us. For me, this goes a step further, as I emerge drastically changed physically, emotionally, and spiritually after this healing journey with cancer. I am struggling in many ways internally. Looking from the outside, things in my life appear normal. I am beginning to socialize, date, taking on projects, and going on retreat. I just spent 3 magical days in the wilderness camping at 12,000 feet at a pristine alpine lake.

The struggle centers around this concept of normalcy. My hair is growing back, aspects of life are returning to pre-cancer as much as they can considering the coronavirus backdrop, I feel motivated and directed in my activities. And YET, I also fear this normalcy. Was this just an 8-month bad dream? I am very proud of myself for tackling my healing process so strongly, for integrating the tumor and embracing the strong chemotherapy regimen. But I know this is not the complete healing – my mind wanders to the possible sources of the disease. If they were emotional or spiritually rooted, have I addressed the source? If I have not, how do I?

Therefore, these contradictory energies play inside of me – on one hand, this desire to return to what was, to all the masks and shadows I danced with previously, and on the other hand, pressing my foot on the brake, slowing down. Did I receive my lesson(s) from this healing process? Is there more to do? Returning to who and what I was is impossible, there have been too many changes this year.

Who am I and who do I want to be?

And this thought itself may be the greatest part of my struggle – during my treatment with tuning forks vibrating on my heart and crown, Kate instructed me to remind myself daily that I am being guided and that it is not always me who is in control. As obvious as this is, my entire being resists this knowledge with incredible force.

PET-CT Scan Results

Reflection on my most recent test result –  I’m out of the woods!

The report was clear and I’m essentially finished with conventional treatments for the time being. I’ll have follow-up scans every 6 months for the next two years (the highest likelihood of a recurrence is in the first two years), but other than this, I will be on my own, free of pharmaceuticals for the foreseeable future.

Ordinarily, it would be a beautiful time to celebrate the confluence of my 41st birthday and the end of treatment with a big party, but unfortunately this pandemic will delay this until a yet to be determined date in the future!

Embracing Your Light–Summer Solstice & End of Chemotherapy Meditation

This year, June 20th marks the summer solstice and June 21st marks the final day of my 5-month journey with chemotherapy. This has been a long voyage, and while my healing will continue for much longer, this feels like an auspicious time to celebrate a transition: individually for me, but also collectively and planetarily for all of us.

To honor this moment, I invite you all to join me for a synchronized meditation this Saturday.

The exact moment of the solstice is 3:43 PM MST, therefore the meditation will be from 3:20 PM – 4:10 PM MST. I will also sit a second time to allow my friends in Asia to participate from 7:00 PM – 7:50 PM MST.

I included a time zone converter below. Even if you are only able to join for five minutes, please take this opportunity to celebrate your own light as you also celebrate the end of treatment with me.

What is the meaning of the Summer Solstice?

What is special about the solstice? It marks the longest day of the year in the northern hemisphere and the first day of summer. The solstice is a peak, a climax, a completion, and a beginning all at once. This year it also nearly coincides with a new moon and solar eclipse (only visible in Africa), which have their own powerful influences on us.

Many ancient civilizations dedicated rituals and festivals to the summer solstice. They intuited and realized the significance of this moment. While there are external and astronomical aspects associated with this day, for those spiritually inclined it represents an opportunity for an inner transition.

Wyld Witchery says:

The Summer Solstice is aligned with the element of fire, passion, will and drive. This is the time to seek right action, to choose to walk in alignment with your beliefs. Now is the time for you to look at the grander scope of your life and spiritual path and take note of what is out of alignment. What doesn’t serve you? What things do you tell yourself or others that are not in line with what you preach? What things do not serve your personal and spiritual growth?

There is also a slow side to the summer solstice – it reminds us of the importance of patience:

There is the slow, sure rhythm of time that events will enter into our lives if we let them. We can’t hurry things, but if we just relax and let go, things will reach their fullness without effort or the striving of ego on our part. The seeds of spring have been planted, we’ve labored over them all spring-now it’s time to let nature take its course.

And finally, there is our relationship with the element of fire. The sun is, literally, all fire. And for nearly 24 hours a day, the northern hemisphere is soaking up all that fierce, intense, electrifying, invigorating, exhilarating energy.

That means there is an absolute abundance of that rich fire energy available for you and me to soak up as well. We can use that energy to inspire up, to uplift us, to energize us. To light our fires and to allow us to embrace our light and share it with others.

How to Participate

Find somewhere to sit quietly without distractions. This can even be done in bed (as you’ll see it’s very late/early in many time zones). Meditate however you wish, connecting first to yourself, then to each other, eventually to the entire planet. No special technique is needed. If you are a regular meditator, choose whatever method helps you connect with your heart and to expand your awareness as wide as possible.

This will not be a guided meditation – we will all simply sit at home in silence at our own pace, absent technology.

Join one or both of these two meditations on Saturday, June 20th (the first one is more potent as it is the exact time of the solstice).

Clicking the link one will take you to an app that will determine the time in your location.

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 # 𝟏

𝟑:𝟐𝟎 𝐏𝐌 – 𝟒:𝟏𝟎 𝐏𝐌 𝐌𝐒𝐓 (June 21st in Asia)

𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 # 𝟐

𝟕:𝟎𝟎 𝐏𝐌 – 𝟕:𝟓𝟎 𝐏𝐌 𝐌𝐒𝐓 (June 21st in Europe and Asia)

This weekend I will be fasting from the Internet and social media, so I will not be online until Monday. I wish everyone a beautiful solstice, meditation, and weekend.