Tuned by the Little Light

The other morning, just before I woke up for yoga, a young woman came to me in my dream. I had met her in real life, in August, when I went to the ashram with a friend. I first saw her when I was sitting on a verandah at the ashram and she (playing the dholak) and a Dutch woman (playing the guitar) were chanting mantras in Sanskrit with some Rumanians.

She was a 30-something year old Rumanian named Luminitza (meaning Little Light) and she reminded me strikingly of a very good friend in Switzerland. When I told her this after Day 1 of a healing course we were both doing at the ashram, she lit up and said: "I'm happy you feel the connection too. I thought I was the only one." She then told me that the first day she saw me, she told her friends after: "I like her. She's very spiritual and she looks like an artist."

Somehow we established a connection that felt very powerful, even though we barely spoke again after that over the two day period. It's hard to explain and perhaps not necessary. The experience of that connection just felt like an intangible extension of the healing course.   

That brief summary helps put into context my dream of two mornings ago. Just before waking up for yoga, I was in an airport in England, preparing to return to Trinidad, but not particularly wanting to. Luminitza appeared. Perhaps because (in 'real life') I have been playing my guitar and chanting a lot lately, I immediately suggested to her that she play the dholak while I play the guitar.

She said: "I've become very good with the dholak."

The next thing I recall is hearing the notes of the guitar strings being tuned ... only the strings were in me (sounding more like a sitar) and I was being tuned by Luminitza (even though she was not physically doing it). Just as the final high E note was tuned and had finished vibrating, Jasper stepped on my chest and woke me up.

Perfect timing!

I had been tuned up by the Little Light and awakened by the Treasure Seeker*

*(Jasper means Treasure Seeker).

The following is not a paid advertisement

This photo, taken with my laptop camera, does no justice to the beautiful fabric pocket book I received in the mail yesterday. It was made by Lynn of Getting My Feet Wet. Go to her blog and you will see more of the pocket books. In fact, have a look at a whole set of them here.

I had ordered one, with a particular intention ... and boy, did Lynn deliver!

Without an ounce of reservation or hesitation, I highly recommend Lynn's pocket books as a one-of-a-kind gift for you or someone else. Unique, original, tailor-made for the giftee. In each pocket (filled with intentions and affirmations) is the essence of whatever the giftee wants ... things that money could never buy.

I went to the Post Office to get my package yesterday. It was neatly encased in a white box with all kinds of stamps and customs tape all over it. I was on my way to the POS/Moksha yoga class and thought I would wait to open the package there.

However, unable to resist, I ripped open the box while stuck in traffic: "WOWWWW!" Simple yet intricate, with amazing detail, multiple textures, expertly put together ... And more than all of that, I could feel the vast wave of love and intention that went into process and product.

Later, while stuck in more traffic, I had time to read some of the many affirmations Lynn had put into the pockets. POWERFUL!

Only when I got home, just before bed, did I have time to really look at the book properly and read all of the affirmations. After yoga this morning, I reached into the book again and pulled out some of the affirmations. More than something I "ordered", this feels like a huge gift I have received. Small and simple, yet hugely empowering, magnetic, transforming and magical in quality.

And I know it is "working" already.

Thank you, Lynn.

Dreams coming true x 2

The harvest moon in motion

She never introduced herself—just looked me directly in the eyes and started to speak. The first thing I remember her telling me was: "Have two exhibitions by the end of the year."

"How about one?"I asked her.

"Two," she said. Her expression never changed. She had a constant slight smile. She came across as kind but firm.

Then she said: "Never travel as if you are alone."

"But what if I am?" I asked her.

"You are not."

 ****

The above is an extract from this dream.

I didn't have to think about how the two exhibitions would happen. They are happening. The press release for one of them (written by the organizers) is below. The other will be announced in due course.

PRESS RELEASE

Masman Brian MacFarlane and international photographer Alex Smailes have lent their support to the first-ever traveling exhibition in the country.

MacFarlane, the man behind last year’s opening ceremony of the Fifth Summit of the Americas, has endorsed the exhibition “The Environment is You”, which promises to have a rather disturbing and dramatic effect on viewers as it catalogues the horrific pollution that has become the norm in Trinidad and Tobago. MacFarlane, who is currently in India showcasing two traditional Carnival characters at an international exhibition, says the aims of this photographic display are similar to his 2008 band Earth: Cries of Despair, Wings of Hope in its attempt to wake the people up to what is happening to our planet. “They must see the stark and grave reality of the environment that we live in,” he said.

Smailes has worked as a photojournalist in Haiti, the Balkans, the Caucasus, the Middle East, Papua New Guinea, and the Solomon Islands, and now calls Trinidad home. His trademark searing images will be featured in the exhibition, which captures the damage done to our islands daily – the burning and clearing of hills for development; the careless disposal of cigarette butts that can cause fires during the dry season; rubbish strewn along highways, waterways, drains and beaches, and so on.

Artist Elspeth Duncan has also contributed her “Side Walk Series”, which shows the effect of poorly maintained manholes on unsuspecting citizens, with often tragic and unfortunate results.

The inspiration of Sandra Allum, director and lead tourism consultant for International Consultancy Limited, “The Environment is You” exhibition follows last year’s open day on San Fernando Hill where the focus was recycling, and the target group schoolchildren. “In essence, this year’s exhibition reflects the message that Nature is an enduring gift from God - treasure it! We hope to inspire our citizens and decision makers to make a serious attempt at preserving our environment,” explained Allum.

The concept of the travelling exhibition is the first of its kind in the country. The twenty large (6ft by 6ft) posters will make their debut on the fence of Queen’s Royal College around the Queen’s Park Savannah on October 3, where they will remain to haunt motorists until October 9. They will then be moved from location to location, taking their message throughout Trinidad and Tobago.

Corporate support for the project comes from bptt (British Petroleum), recyclers Piranha International, the Trinidad Hilton, Bella Treats and Green Cyclone Incorporated. Non-profit organisations such as the R4 Initiative, Greenlight Network and Earth Strong Trinidad and Tobago have also pledged their support.

The launch of the exhibition “The Environment is You” will take place on October 3 at the Savannah Terrace, Hilton Trinidad at 5pm.

All media houses are invited to attend. 

A perfect weekend

On Friday (public holiday) around midday my friend Durga Devi and I went up to Ananda Mahi, the healing space owned by her, her husband and two small children. She uses it as a place for spiritual workshops and retreats. We went up to clean in preparation for the Kundalini Yoga retreat the next day (Saturday). This retreat (which had about 21 people) was led by Hari Sant, through whom I first started learning Kundalini Yoga ten years ago.

 

When we arrived at Ananda Mahi, one of the first things I noticed was ... guess what. It had been raining and all the other water om the lower verandah had dried up, leaving this one wet heart-shaped spot.

After cleaning, came yoga, dinner, bathtime, then bedtime. Prior to going to sleep, we sat on the upper balcony, overlooking Maracas Bay with the huge round orange moon rising above it—and we chanted the mantra Humee Hum Brahm Hum (with me strumming guitar and Durga playing a drum). We got so caught up in chanting that ages passed, our voices growing louder and louder, penetrating the forest around us and most likely drifting down the mountain to the houses below. Increasingly, we began to sound drunk, especially when (for reasons I can't remember now) we stopped singing and began to laugh loudly, unable to stop, howling like wild nocturnal hyenas.

In the morning I woke at 3:30 as usual. Some time after, we went down to the lower balcony and began a yoga session—finishing up by chanting our new favourite, with guitar and drum: Humee Hum Brahm Hum until the sun rose.

The perfect way to start the day of what then turned out to be a lovely Kundalini Yoga retreat.

Sunrise over Maracas Bay: view from the lower verandah

Pre-dawn yoga and heart-shaped Yogi tea

Bottles of yogi tea on the couch, waiting to go

As it is a public holiday we were able to meet early for our Friday yoga—i.e. as early as in 4:30 a.m. So, it was not a "class", but sadhana.

We had a fantastic sadhana on Shiv's poolside terrace (which looks like it is our new venue, at least for now). When we began, the stars and a huge bright moon were up. Venus was glowing. By the time we were done, the sky was lighter, but the sun was not yet up enough for the day to be hot. We had come to the end of our chanting, but the birds continued on our behalf.

At the end of it all, I gave everyone a bottle filled with yogi tea from the batch I had made yesterday. The labels I made for the bottles each said SAT NAM.

When I dropped Patrice home after, she had something for me upstairs, so I went up to get it. We decided to have our yogi tea and share some with her boyfriend, who was just rising. As she poured the tea from one of the bottles into the pot to heat it up, a drop of tea fell onto the counter ... in the shape of a heart ... and just under the heart was a snakelike drop of tea, quite like Kundalini rising. (Unfortunately I didn't have my camera but Patrice took one or two shots with hers).

As we watched the tea bubble in the pot, the little masses of white bubbles kept breaking up leaving heart-shaped spaces of tea. Amazing confirmation that we had started the day on the perfect note.

Pippa is back home

Pippa—aka Pip, Pips, Pippy, Pipsqueak, Pippy-Squeaky, Squeaky, Squeaky-clean, Squeakalishus—finally came home today.


When I went to get Pippa at Mt. Hope Vet Hospital this morning she looked traumatised, having had to stay there in a small kennel for two days after surgery. I had been waiting for someone to deliver a dog crate, since the vet had advised that she have strict confinement (to ensure minimal leg movement) for at least the first ten days until her stitches are out. Then, 6 - 8 weeks of continued confinement and limited movement.

When I put Pip into the dog crate, she immediately fought and broke her way out of it, even though there was a lock on the door. The poor thing (understandably) hates small spaces. She's a very playful dog, accustomed to running and jumping all over the garden, which is quite big.

Driving home was a bit of a task, manoeuvering through flood waters with Pippa sitting on my lap (it was the only place she would go), squashing up under the steering wheel.

Now she is quietly resting indoors, tied on a short chain. The girl at the vet down the road said to keep her in the crate because if she bursts her stitches she will have to go through the operation again (as happened to another dog she knows who had the same op).

I'll monitor how she is on the chain, however, when Pip sees people she tends to stand up and get playful, so ... as distressing as it is to think of her being in the dog crate for extended periods, if that's what has to be done to ensure proper healing of her leg, then so be it.

. . . Unless I can find a small but spacious cage with lots of air and light coming into it.

May be just what you or someone else is looking for

Click image to enlarge.

Please find more information here: http://kundaliniyogatt.blogspot.com

I am/you are the answer to someone's prayer

This morning when I woke up, the first thought in my head was: "What is success?"

Immediately following this was a slew of questions:
Is it owning a house?
Is it having a car?
Is it having a high paying job?
Is it having loads of money in my bank account?
Is it having a long term relationship?
Is it having fame?

Listing these items, I realised that I have none of them. I had a car, but I sold it a few months ago.

The only thing I "have" is myself.

In the eyes of the world, "success" is largely determined by material possessions. The bigger your house, car and salary, the more successful you are.

A short while after thinking this, I did sadhana, then went to check email. I sent a short email to a friend who had called me yesterday, to follow up on how she was doing. As I sent the email off, I unexpectedly burst into tears ... not of sadness, but of realisation. Someone had trusted me enough to reach out to me in her moment of despair and I was able to listen, understand and offer solutions. By the end of the conversation, her tears were laughter and her fear glimmered with hope.

As I came off the email, a voice within said: You are the answer to someone's prayer.

In that moment it struck me. How true! By simply being who I am and doing what I do, the lives of many are touched, even transformed. Sometimes I see it, sometimes they tell me, sometimes I don't even know. I'm not saying any of this in vanity -- simply recognition, acknowledgment and gratitude.

The same goes for you. Without knowing it most of the time, the simplest truth of who you are and how you do things has the power to touch, heal and transform others.

You Are Calling (now on Youtube)

Sountrack (Music & Production): Irukandji
Video (Camera, Direction, Edit): Elspeth Duncan

In the eye of the beholder

One of the many dangerous uncovered manholes I met on my walk yesterday

It's a long story as to why, yesterday I was in Santa Cruz market, wearing a white kurta top with fine gold embellishments, blue jeans and sneakers. Also a long story as to why I made a two hour trek from that point at the Croisée to St. Augustine. Let's call it a spontaneous moment. One that I enjoyed and found very enlightening and productive.

Along the way, I used the opportunity to take photos of the sidewalk and the dangerous manholes—for a project I decided to embark upon after I saw the elderly man fall into the manhole on Friday.

In Trinidad, whenever I am out somewhere taking photos of anything other than the traditional (posing people), citizens stop and ask: "Gayelle? TV 6?" FYI, one does not have to belong to a media house in order to be out in public with a camera.

There were times on my walk yesterday when I sensed cars slowing down, most likely wondering what a lone woman wearing a kurta top, jeans and sneakers was doing striding along in the hot sun, taking photos of manholes and garbage on the sidewalk. Maybe, to some of them, I appeared "mad".

There are some things I do/have done which, to me, are perfectly normal, but which some people question.
"What did you smoke?"
"You're crazy, yes!"
"Only you would do something like that!"

Super-conventional thinkers, is all I have to say.

As I passed La Joya and neared the silver bridge to Curepe, I saw a woman at the side of the road in front of me. She was casually dressed, but the way she furtively smoked her cigarette and looked shiftily at me made me feel that something wasn't quite right. As I got closer, she reached into the grass, quickly picked something up and dropped it into her market bag. I heard the thump of what I believed was a sizeable rock.

Immediately, what came to mind was a story a friend had told me the night before, after yoga. Some hoodlums had pelted a rock at her back as she and her then boyfriend escaped potential robbery by running down a track. The impact had drawn blood. Now, here I was, walking in front of this woman. If by chance she was a "madwoman", would she pelt the rock at me from behind? In the past, I, and others I have known, have experienced sudden erratic behaviour by people on the streets.

To be on the safe side, I quickly crossed the road and kept walking.

Later, talking to a friend on the phone, I told her of the woman and the rock and that the incident had made me think about how it is so easy to perceive someone as 'mad' even though they may not be.

My friend agreed. "What if she collects heart-shaped rocks and she was just picking one up at that moment?" she asked. "You would have done the same thing."

So true.

Letter to the Editor (re TT's dangerous sidewalks)

The gaping manhole into which the elderly man fell

The Editor:

At about 1:30 p.m. today, Friday, I was driving in pouring rain from Port-of-Spain, heading east. The roads were like rivers of brown water. As I hit the traffic on the Eastern Main Road, I was tempted to pick up two people just to be eligible to drive on the bus route and get home quickly. But as I passed the gas station and neared the traffic light in Champs Fleurs, I saw that the road ahead was clear and changed my mind. Good thing. As I reached the next corner, Gordon Street, I was just in time to see an elderly man get out of a maxi and step straight into a gaping manhole.

I quickly turned the corner, parked my car and ran to help him. A male youth also came to his assistance. The poor man was down in the manhole. Raging brown water was running through the drain. He could have been swept away. Luckily he had the presence of mind to save himself by using his arms. By the time he was back up on the pavement, he was shaking like a leaf, his left leg was bleeding under his pants and the underside of his right forearm from elbow down was bleeding profusely.

I got some napkins from the nearby parlour to place over his wounds. The elderly gentleman was shaking so much that he could barely hold the napkins in place. The youth and I put his umbrella and groceries in my car and I drove him home. He was telling me that as he stepped out of the maxi, his glasses were foggy, so he did not see the manhole.

This manhole is at the corner, where students of Mount Hope Secondary School gather daily, sometimes jostling each other and not looking where they are going as they move in large groups. A small-bodied student falling into that manhole may not be able to save himself/herself as the old man did. When it rains, the flood waters passing through those drains are relentless. How many times do we read about children getting swept away by flood waters in rainy season?

The sidewalks in this country are deplorable. Manholes without covers seem to outnumber those that have covers. And even most of those with covers are either broken or function as see-saws. This country can more than afford to provide new covers for all manholes nationwide. Relevant authorities, please look into this as soon as possible, before worse occurs.

Elspeth Duncan,
St. Augustine

Release & Embrace

Those who follow this blog know how I love Toronto—being there, the energy, my friends, the way I feel, the fortuitous events.

This year there were a few times when I could have gone to (or was planning on going to) TO but did not—either because various factors did not allow or the course of action or opportunity was changed for whatever reason(s).

It was as though, each time, something was saying "Not now" or "Not this way". Each time I let go of the potential opportunity to be in or connect more deeply with Toronto, I felt deep sadness. It was as though I was turning a Beloved away. My heart feels an inexplicably strong pull to Toronto. I don't know why or what is there that is so magnetic for my Soul. I have not felt this for anywhere else.

For my upcoming birthday (October 7th), which is also the first anniversary of the Oneness Celebration and which, this year, falls on a Super New Moon, I felt that I would have to do something really special to celebrate. When I asked myself what that really special thing was, the first thing that came to mind was "Toronto!" Just being there on Thursday 7 October would have been celebration enough. My heart leaped, my cells buzzed and came alive at the thought. My air miles were enough for a one way ticket. But to fund the rest of my trip I would have to dip into money I had put aside (specifically for something else, also important). My friends (those I told) were excited to hear that I was thinking of coming for a week.

I deliberated over the financial aspect, then decided that such a birthday only happens once and that I will always make more money. Then, as the Universe would have it, Pippa damaged her leg ... and the day I was going to book my ticket was the day she had her x-rays and I found out she would have to have surgery followed by 8 weeks confinement until the leg heals. Due to this unexpected development, I decided to not book the ticket to Toronto.

I asked myself: What is it really about this place that pulls me? What if it's nostalgia? What if it's an illusion? Flights of fancy not grounded in reality? Then again, what if what I feel is all true and Toronto is the place for me? Whatever it is ... I have decided to let go of my desire for that one place and open myself to the world ... not only the larger world, but the immediate world around me in Trinidad, since this is where I am now. For a long time I have "preferred" Toronto above all other destinations, including the place where I am now. Nothing wrong with loving TO ... but, despite Trinidad's limitations and frustrations, there is magic and specialness here too. In fact, wherever I go, there is magic and specialness, because those things are in me.

If Toronto is for me, the perfect time will come, I will know it clearly, without doubt or hesitation, and everything will flow magnificently.

If somewhere else is for me, then that place will call me, the energy will flow and the purpose will be crystal clear.

Interestingly, while writing this post, I clicked away to read The Daily Love. The extract I've copied in bold below is the part that resonates with me.

(Extract from The Daily Love):

Sometimes the Uni-verse will ask you to let go of the things you cherish most, not to punish you, but because there is something even better for you on the horizon.

Each situation and relationship prepares you for the next phase of life. Recognize when a new phase has arrived.

You can get stuck holding on to things that used to make you happy, but now no longer serve you. Don't go there.

If you knew the bliss and HUGE life that awaits you on the other side of letting go, you will just relax and enjoy the ride.

Hearts galore

For the morning already I've seen three hearts.

The first was the leaf on the driveway with a heart-shaped hole in it.

Then, on the way to get the car brakes checked, I saw a huge heart-shaped concrete slab of sidewalk near a gaping manhole.

I returned home and, while searching the small garden outside my bedroom window for a rock, I came across a small piece of heart-shaped snakeskin.

Of course I took shots of all.

I get the message, loud and clear.

Eat, Pray, Love - the personal version

I was chatting with someone at the Moksha Yoga 5th Anniversary Party on Saturday night. At one point, the conversation touched on Eat, Pray, Love. I asked her where she would go to experience her personal Eat, Pray and Love. I can't remember her answers now, but they were interesting. Katmandu was one of them.

When it was my turn, I told her:

My Eat would be California which, as far as I know, has the largest raw food community in the world.

My Pray would be to travel the world, discovering different labyrinths to walk in diverse locations.

My Love ... that could happen anywhere. To choose a specific place for it to manifest would be extremely limiting. You never know how, when, where and why Love suddenly comes.

Meeting interesting people at the vet

Pippa in the car on the way to the vet

One x-ray and a blood test later, Pippa's diagnosis is a torn knee ligament in her right back leg. She will need to have surgery, possibly later this week, followed by 8 weeks of recuperation and confinement. While I'm sure she'll be fine and will heal rapidly, our furry frisky friend is not going to be happy about (a) having to return to the vet (b) having to keep quiet as she heals.

At the vet hospital I whiled away the hours by observing the animal lovers who came with their pets. Humans don't own animals. Animals own humans.

There were two tough-looking Indian men who came in with one of them cradling a box for dear life. I asked him if the box contained puppies. He said: "No. A cat." Inside was a fluffy ginger-and-white feline who's belly apparently kept growing larger and larger whenever he ate food. The image of those two tough men and the fluffy cat was cute, if not incongruous.

Then there was the middle-aged Indian woman who kept telling me about "my Jesse" (her dog, also with a bad back leg limp). My Jesse this, my Jesse that. By the time it was "my Jesse's" turn to go into the examination room, she was calling him "Bobo."

There was the Indian woman who's dog had been knocked down and had its leg wrapped in a splint and bandage. She was juggling bringing the dog to the vet and taking the children to school.

There was the Indian man (most people there today were Indian) who had a small, fluffy dog, aged eleven, who had cataracts and couldn't see. He made up for his blindness by sniffing out anaesthetized Pippa's hind quarters as she stretched groggily across two chairs, awaiting her blood test.

There were the two thug-looking men who came in with a pittbull (without a leash). One man held it by its collar. At one point the dog began to release diarrhea—tons of it in a constant stream, liquidy like soup, all over the floor. The stench was enough to drive me and Joy outside.

Joy was the woman who struck up a conversation with me as she waited on her daughter. She had seen me walking up and down after Pippa was taken in for x-rays and asked me "How you pacing the floor so like a worried mother?" Joy bakes (from home) for a living and makes everything from mini cheese cakes to birthday cakes to wedding cakes at very affordable prices. I was amazed at how reasonable her rates were in comparison to what she told me of other prices. She told me to look for her Facebook page which her daughter had set up for her 2 weeks ago.

There's a camaraderie that strikes up among humans who bring their pets to the vet. "What happened to yours?" and "What's his/her name?" are the two questions which usually start up the ensuing conversations.

Pippa goes to the vet

Yesterday I returned home after having been away for four days. Pippa was on top of the hill looking down as I pulled into the driveway. I noticed she was holding up her back right leg and limping badly.

In 2005, when she was a pup, she had fallen from a step and injured that leg. It seems that the injury has recurred. I took her to the vet this morning—a new vet place on the Eastern Main Road near to the engine and underbody wash place.

Two young female vets were on duty. They were welcoming and professional. Since Pippa usually snaps at vets and strange people, I advised the vets to put a muzzle on her. However, she remained calm as I held her, allowing the two vets to stretch her leg, take her temperature, give her a full body check up, spray her—the works. She didn't even flinch when she received the worm-out injection which, as one vet warned—burns!

The vets suspect dislocation, so, to be sure, it's x-ray time on Monday. Hopefully nothing too serious. Meanwhile Pippa (being a frisky dog) has to be confined to a small space so she won't go leaping around on the leg, making it worse.

She's not too happy about her confinement.

For pet owners living in and around St. Augustine, check out this new vet place—D Animal Clinic. I was pleased with their loving handling of Pippa, the cleanliness of the space and the bill at the end of it all was reasonable. They even give both pet and owner a goodbye treat.

My watermelon surprise

Inspecting the crop with Jasper

This morning when I returned from my walk, I glanced at the watermelon vine and saw this baby watermelon peeping out at me! My second glance caught sight of another watermelon, the size and shape of a small cucumber, further along the vine. What a surprise.

This vine is what grew from me sitting in the driveway on mornings after a walk, eating watermelon and tossing the seeds into the soil under the pine tree.

One of my favourite things in the world

The labyrinth could do with a power wash
*

On Thursday I spent some time downtown with my friend Vanessa, who's visiting from Spain. While walking around, I mentioned the labyrinth to her and she was amazed to find out that there was one here. Most people are either (a) surprised to hear that one exists in Trinidad or (b) ask what a labyrinth is. N.B. It is not a maze ... although it can amaze you. :)

When we met up with V's mother later, I took them to the labyrinth and we all walked it in silence.

It's been a while since I've walked "the lab". Located in the heart of down town Port of Spain at the top of Chacon Street, on the grounds of the cathedral, it is an oasis. The traffic, noise and bustle of the city fall away when you are there. Time slows down and, regardless of the mood in which you arrive, by the time you've walked the lab, all is transformed.

It's called the Holy Trinity Labyrinth—ironically the same name as the very first labyrinth I ever walked (in Toronto) and continue to walk almost daily whenever I'm there. That Toronto Holy Trinity labyrinth is much bigger than the TT one. But ... a labyrinth is a labyrinth. Regardless of size, it's one of my favourite things to do and definitely something I'll have in the garden of my own home one day.

You Are Calling—the video

You Are Calling from Elspeth Duncan on Vimeo.

Video created by Elspeth Duncan for "You Are Calling"—track #9 from the new album Beauty In Destruction by Irukandji.