I made it to the peephole, though not so quietly as I had hoped, and stared out into an empty hallway. I could hear my neighbor Phil moving around his apartment down the hall. Phil is not crazy enough to rattle my door at the hinges anyways, so I knew that it wasn’t likely to be him.

When my ex-boyfriend moved out of this apartment a year or so ago, almost every noise was scary at first. I was not accustomed to being in the apartment alone and sound carries at the oddest speed up the brick walls of the building I live in.

Standing at the door, staring into the hall, I felt foolish, and I turned and walked away. Only to hear the door vibrating again. I whirled around and stared out the peephole. Nothing.

Then a loud “mew” sounded from somewhere near the bottom of the door. My neighbor Alecia on the second floor fosters an army of kittens. I knew right away what had happened. I threw open the door, scooped up the kitty (who proceeded to climb onto my head, mewing loudly) and carried him back to his lair. I then walked the halls and collected another would-be escapee. While Alecia was in the shower, two of her kitties had figured out how to open the door by pushing up from beneath. These kitties are smart and hillarious as well.

From “The Life and Example of Buddha,” in MEDITATION IN ACTION, the 40th Anniversary Edition, page 5.

As my friend Sue said, it seems a little bittersweet now that the ceremony is over. Unless I become a nun or receive transmission, the jukai ceremony is probably one of the last liturgical zen landmarks for me. I will also miss, as Sue pointed out, the regular company of the three people I took the precepts with–my two dharma sisters and our dharma brother. What a sweet group and what sweet talks we had together over the course of a few months. I am eternally grateful to each of them, they all taught me so many lessons. It is really a joy and a privelege to have slots of time carved out in your life to stop and reflect.

One of the most meaningful moments in the ceremony for me was receiving my mala beads from my teacher. She slips her hand over yours as she puts the mala on your wrist. I looked up at her and smiled, and I felt a real heart-to-heart transmission take place.

The precepts ceremony culminates in a talk by each of the students. I spoke first and I will admit that I only actually wrote my talk four days ago. I had other leads until then, but when it finally clicked, it clicked, and I knew that it was what I really wanted to say when it finally got down on paper. Then came the practicing. Sue had advised us all to practice practice practice, so that we could find our voices with authority when we spoke. So my poor cat endured my talk at least 14 times. And as our teacher had advised us, it was true that it was easy for tangents to get out of hand and to get lost while veering off. As of this morning, my talk was still veering off about 2/3 of the way through. Lotti endured all of this with patience, but I finally knew that I couldn’t practice anymore, that I just had to trust myself to give the talk. And I must say that I did a really great job. I found my voice (and my hara) and I spoke from my heart without using my notes. I will try to post an approximation of what I wrote soon. It needs a little polishing up.

Love, Monica

For the past two years, I have been working at a really well-paid job at a university. It is the first time I have not been un- or under-insured in 10 years. For the first year at least, and even sometimes now, I had no idea how to even use my benefits. I thought that I should get a check-up as I had not been to a doctor other than a gynecologist or a dentist or an acupuncturist in 10 years, but I didn’t even know how to call and what to ask for. (I was in perfect health by the way, much to the shock of my new primary care physician after I told her about my long gap of western intervention.) Prior to this job, I had never made more than $20,000/year. (I was 28 when I started this work.) I suddenly was making nearly twice that amount, and (until my ex moved out  and my rent and utilities doubled) I was incredibly rich, though also somewhat not rich, as I had virtually no savings as I had never had extra money to save. Seeing so much money coming in was a really interesting feeling. It felt unusual and strange.

Even now, though I am not swimming in cash, I am incredibly lucky. I am making nearly the exact same salary ($36,750) as the average American family of three, according to Rohleder’s statistic from the US Census.

Some of my colleagues think that we are “worth more” than this amount, but that method of thinking, is really aligned with Rohdeler’s warning about focusing on that which “should” occur. It’s useless and it obscures what actually is.

Rohdeler discusses the ways in which acupuncture is delivered in a manner that makes it accessible to only the top 20% of the nation. She also notes that we use the assumed preferences of these earners to benchmark how a “successful” acupuncture practice should be setup (private treatment rooms, long talks between patient and acupuncturist). This lack of vision is holding us all back and is obscuring the potential of acupuncture to be accessible to people who fall into a middle-bracket of income–that population, Rohdeler points out, is an untapped 60% of the population. (Those in the bottom 20% should not be forgotten, but, as Rohdeler points out, they may be receiving acupuncture through federally-funded programs.)

The link above is 45 minutes long. Even if you only watch the first 10, you will learn a lot about how our health care system is set up and how the economics of our nation are vastly skewed. It’s good to be reminded that my income is the income of an “average” family of three.  This makes me think about how I spend my own money and how I utilize my resources.

For awhile now, I’ve been thinking about setting up a radical economics forum. A chance for fellow West Philadelphians to come together and to share resources about how we use our financial, physical, and emotional resources. We all have assumptions about money and power, and I think that if we all sat down together and had an open dialogue, we could figure out ways to reinvest in our neighbors, in ourselves, and in each other. A sort-of promotion of collective health and wellness. It is possible!

I have been intensively doing yoga for ten months now. I cannot tell you how much yoga has meant to me during this time. It’s really a place of refuge. I have to be careful to not make it an escape.

It was not until recently that I began doing uttanasana correctly. The temptation is to get to the floor, so I have traditionally slouched up my back and bent from the waist. But if you bend from the hip joints with a nice, flat spine, you really have the chance to discover the length of your vertebral column and the sense of expansion that is available to you when you don’t slouch over your heart.

Uttanasna has become part of my morning and my evening routines. While part of me is, of course, secretly hoping to have a breakthrough (as I did not so long ago with Baddha Konasana) and to impress my yoga teacher with my sudden flat-spined head-tucking-onto-the-kneecaps uttanasana, I also just love the way uttanasana feels.

I have never (until now) enjoyed forward folds, though my yoga teacher has consistently told me that I should do more of them, but really folding into uttanasana from the hips allows a feeling of luxuriant serenity to sweep over me as I fold into myself and find myself safe and expansively long.

Throughout graduate school, I followed my bad habit of stretching myself too thin. One morning I woke up and noticed a strange striation on the left side of my neck.  I was diagnosed with Scleroderma, an auto-immune illness linked to Parry-Romberg Syndrome —a rare neurological disorder that caused the left side of my face to atrophy between the ages of 10-16.

Developing Scleroderma made me realize how scattered my priorities had become. I slowed down and began going to an excellent acupuncturist (my first). I also began to realize that I wanted a profession connected directly to the world and to the benefit of others.

My first acupuncturist taught me a great lesson during our second visit. When I asked her how I was doing, she replied, “It’s your job to tell me how you are.” She helped me become aware of the awesome responsibility that we all have to check-in with ourselves about our own well-being. I hope to generate this feeling of self-respect and self- inquiry in others.

I am pursuing an education in acupuncture because I have realized its gifts in my own life. I am also attracted to how subtle and contextual it is. There is no formulaic way to effectively treat someone. Acupuncture requires great insight and a leap of faith, a willingness to open to the present moment and to trust your instincts as they unfold.

*

My interest in TCM began while I was in graduate school completing my MA in English. I had started the program with the expectation that I would finish the MA, apply to PhD programs, and eventually teach college, but as I progressed towards finishing my MA, my priorities began to shift. While I respect my graduate school colleagues immensely, I gradually became aware of how unhappy many of my professors and fellow students were. Many of my professors did not even enjoy teaching; they had pursued PhDs because (like me) they were interested in research and loved to read.

While I liked teaching, I found it difficult, at 24, to harness the energy of 25 freshmen and to teach to so many levels at once. I found that my skills were much better used when I could sit one-on-one with a student during office hours and really find out where they were at and what they needed. I expect that these listening skills will serve me well as an acupuncturist.

Throughout graduate school, I generally followed my long-term bad habit of stretching myself too thin and doing too much. One morning halfway through, I woke up and noticed a strange striation on the left side of my neck.  Because I was in Maine, I thought that I had suffered some bizarre frostbite.  I went to a doctor and was referred to a dermatologist, who diagnosed me with Scleroderma (Localized Linear Morphea), an auto-immune illness which is linked to Parry-Romberg Syndrome (Progressive Hemifacial Atrophy)—a rare neurological disorder that caused the left side of my face to atrophy/not grow between the ages of 10-16.

Developing Scleroderma made me realize how scattered my priorities had become. I slowed down a little and through the referral of a friend began going to an excellent acupuncturist (my first). I also began to realize that I did not want a PhD. Though I have immense respect for those who teach, and especially for those who teach well, I knew that I wanted a profession that was much more connected directly to the world and to the benefit of others. During my final year of grad school, I began serving food to the homeless in the park with Food Not Bombs, and I began attending meetings of local anti-sweatshop activists, whose dedication I deeply admired.

As I continued to explore acupuncture, I became aware of varying ways my body was out of balance (digestive disorders I had lived with so long that I didn’t even realize they were abnormal). I was surprised and thrilled with how much better I began to feel as I continued getting treatments. I also changed my diet during this time and became macrobiotic (though now I eat local meat and dairy as severe macrobiotics was too much for me over a long period of time).

I have had a long haul with my own body and my health. I have had gum grafts four times on the left. I’ve had two plastic surgeries to reconstruct the soft tissue in the left side of my face. (And while at the ages of 16 and 18 these surgeries were important to me, I now have the wisdom to leave the structure of my face alone.)  I’ve also had 10 years of experimental dental work to try to ease the fit of my TMJ joints into their sockets. All of this pain has allowed me to generate deep empathy for myself and for others. It has also attuned me to the importance and the radiant qualities of feeling well. And it has made me realize the importance of staying in touch with your own health.

While I would have a hard time choosing all of the illness for myself (if I had a choice), I realize that illness is part of my path, and is even something to be grateful for. Illness has opened me up to the suffering of others, and it has also allowed me to realize how incredibly brave and resilient I am when necessary.

My first acupuncturist taught me a great lesson during our second visit. After she took my pulse, I asked her how I was this week. “It’s your job to tell me how you are,” she replied. And with that, I became aware of the awesome responsibility that we all have to check-in with ourselves about our own well-being. One of the other gifts I received during graduate school was an introduction to Tai Chi and to meditation practices. I took this interest with me when I moved to Philadelphia, and I established a strong connection with the Zen Center of Philadelphia, where I have been practicing for four years.

I am attracted to acupuncture because I have realized its gifts in my own life. I am also attracted to how subtle and contextual it is. There is no way to effectively treat someone using a standardized formula. Acupuncture requires great insight and a leap of faith, a willingness to open to the present moment and to trust your instincts as they unfold.

I am applying to acupuncture school. YES YES !!! YES YES YES! ACTIVELY APPLYING!

I have an admissions interview at Jung Tao School of Classical Chinese Medicine on December 16th.

I am about to get a tattoo.

I have a fantastic haircut.

How fucking great is my life!? Seriously!

I am very excited right now.

The company performed three dances: Arden Court (1981), Phantasmagoria (2010), and Cloven Kingdom (1976). All three, but the first two in particular, shared elements of humor and illustrated failed attempts at human connection (and the tension that’s created by attempting to connect but falling short of this goal). All three were also surprisingly balletic, with lots of locomoting leaps. I wasn’t expecting Taylor to have such a strong connection to ballet.

Arden Court was a contemporary homage to, and a critique of, ballet. The costumes for Arden Court were fitted and almost translucent, lending an airy but contemporary quality to the piece (no tutus here; the women’s skirts were flat and did not spin out when they turned, so much as they flapped—thus creating a staccato edge to the overall lyricism of the piece). The score was from the 18^th century (William Boyce) and thus set expectations for a lyrical ballet performance. And while the dancers moved almost continuously in the high level, locomoting with big leaps across the stage, and thus satisfying most people’s expectations of “ballet”, the dancers also occasionally dove to the floor and circled each other in a sad but funny attempt to really connect with each other.

The dancers used the floor to leap under their partner’s extended leg with pointed feet, thus lending a sort of desperate and vulnerable tone to their relationship. The dancer on the floor had to scramble quickly to avoid being hit by a swinging leg or arm, and it was interesting to consider why the dancers were down on the floor to begin with. Tension was created by the simultaneous upward movement of one dancer and the downward circular motions of the dancer paired with them in that moment. This made the piece sad and also funny. The times when one dancer would try to make contact with another were at the most nonsensical moments. While crouching beneath another dancer’s outstretched circling foot, the dancer on the floor would reach for her partner and come very close to him without making contact. This allowed us to see a craving for connection and it also revealed the formulaic quality of moments when a dancer was carrying his partner across the stage, though these portions of the dance were also very beautiful.

Phantasmagoria made use of Renaissance music and place-based/period costumes (medieval, garden of eden, ireland, goddesses). Unlike Arden Court, Phantasmagoria made heavy use of asymmetry and isolations (especially leading with pointy parts of the body, like the elbow). I especially loved the beginning of the piece. It featured lots of convulsions and contortions, thus setting a tone of struggle and discontent. Phantasmagoria also used the dancers’ bodies as instruments, the music softened at times, and the sound of fists pounding the stage or slapping a leg created a very human soundtrack, usually one that reminded us of struggle.

The piece made heavy use of sexuality and ultimately was instructive about the inescapableness of sexuality (though in keeping with the theme above of “failed connection,” each scene was infused with sexual tension but was cut off prior to climax). Each character (the East Indian Adam and Eve, the Flemish Dancers, the Isadorables—which I had to google to connect to Isadora Duncan, and the brawling men) was overlaid with a narrative of desire.  Even the character of the Byzantine nun, with her gorgeous flowing headpiece, yielded to the charms of the stuffed snake (thus introducing an element of humor).

The movement in this piece was often very sharp, and this piece too (especially the absurdity of the nun) was funny. I loved how the dancers often moved as part of a chain reaction. One or two dancers would begin the movement and at times would literally tag the next dancer, until everyone was moving in a sort of delayed game of dominoes. This time lapse created a sense of the infectious quality of movement, and reminded us that it is hard to stay still in the midst of action and change.

Cloven Kingdom had an amazing score, my favorite by far. Baroque compositions were interrupted by, or overlaid with, contemporary percussive pieces, and sometimes the music cut out completely and the dancers were accompanied by silence and the sound of their own feet. The costumes were also gorgeous—the men were in tuxes that sometimes flipped over their heads as they crouched on the floor, and the women wore a muted rainbow of floor-length swirling skirts. This piece was more moderate in terms of the level on which much of the movement occured. Much of the movement occurred in the neutral mid-level, but was punctuated by breakout acrobatics (cartwheels, backflips) that were very surprising and that introduced a tension or a flame of desire into the piece.

Some of the female dancers were outfitted with round or square mirrored headpieces. These introduced a spacey or futuristic and an absurd or ironic quality, and they were also funny in that they were very surprising when first introduced.

I’m guessing that the title of Cloven Kingdom is a reference to the animal nature of man—thus explaining the Spinoza quote (“Man is a social animal”) that frames this performance.  The dancers made lots of cat-like movements (sadly no formal pas de chat though, my new favorite way to move), including flopping over their hands so that their limp wrists hung uselessly in front of their bodies. There was also some crouching, and crawling or scooting on the floor that reminded me of animals as well.

The angular qualities of this piece were very beautiful.  While there was much lyrical and elegant movement, this lyricism was interrupted and brought into tension through heavy use of isolations and asymmetries. Eventually, the transitions between the lyrical and the staccato were piled on so quickly that the boundaries between these movements were blurred, thus calling into question our own categorizations and experience of movement, and thus creating a frenetic and compelling experience for me as an audience member. The abrupt shifts and blurring between baroque music and contemporary percussive music added to this overall tension and mood.

Overall, I am completely in love with Paul Taylor, and I understand why he is so inspiring to you. All three dances were great, but I felt that they progressively warmed my heart. Arden Court was amazing, but was my least favorite. Phantasmagoria was my second favorite, but I think that Cloven Kingdom was my favorite by far, and it was the piece that seemed to have the greatest historical significance in terms of the progression of modern dance.

I tend to favor less locomoting, and more cramped, staccato movements. I think that I’m most interested by what you can do when moving from a place of being stuck (either physically restrained or emotionally hesitant). I also tend to be more comfortable when taking up less space (maybe because I was so shy when I was younger, or maybe because I’m pretty small and can slip quietly through a crowd), so I think that I favor dances that move bravely despite being somewhat confined.

I was really swept away by the modernist qualities of Cloven Kingdom. It felt like a piece of the late 70s—the rainbow of costumes, the futuristic headpieces, and the flowing skirts (which seemed very Martha Graham to me) that allowed the dancers to really triangulate the lower halves of their bodies. Cloven Kingdom felt very classic “modern dance” to me, but it was still just as exciting and beautiful in 2010.

Level One I had the most amazing teacher.

Level Two I was burning with anger/irritation the entire time (which was useful but incredibly annoying!)

Level Three I was at Sky Lake Lodge and was honestly far more enamored with my surroundings than with the teachings.

And Level Four I regained my confidence in the Shambhala path and in what I am doing there to begin with.

For Level Four I also had an amazing teacher. I had googled her and discovered that she had recently received a MFA in Book Arts (which I was drawn to as a writer) and when I actually had lunch with her on Sunday I also learned that she had gone to Naropa in the 70s to study dance. This lady seriously rocks and she is a seriously awesome embodiment of the dharma.

Level Four was called “Awakened Heart” and my heart did feel very big throughout the weekend. I recently learned a little bit about the pericardium (the thin membranous sac surrounding the heart muscle) in anatomy class and ever since I have been inflating my breathe into my heart and/or pericardium in yoga class, trying to make the two meet up and say hello.

The theme of the weekend was communication and I found that I could slip into silence easily, just listening to people and wanting to generally talk and think less and to just experience the brave presence of others. It was lovely. Shambhala retreats are not silent though, so I came in and out of talking, with some hesitation and difficulty. Our teacher kept reminding us to “mind the transitions” and that was helpful though it didn’t always allow me to slip between things as gracefully as I might have hoped to. But how great and amazing the weekend was overall!

On Sunday morning, the last day of the training, I went to Starbucks to get a coffee before the morning meditation session. I know that this seems silly, but meditating all day is actually exhausting. I was fighting fatigue all weekend actually, but had forgotten this until now–when it came time to explain to you why I was in Starbucks to begin with! (How quickly things pass; that’s good!)

I ordered a tall half pike place half decaf with room for cream and a blueberry scone. It was a simple order. The guy behind me was getting some green tea thing and raised his voice at the barrista. I sat in the window seat and looked out at sleepy Chestnut Street and drank my coffee and ate my scone. I was getting ready to leave when one of the Starbucks workers walked over to me and said, “Excuse me, I heard what you said to the barrista” (for some reason this alarmed me, though I had been nothing but polite) “and I want you to know that you are so nice and you are such a considerate person. I wish that I could have waited you. You said exactly what you wanted and you helped us get it right.”

I was so touched by this moment of kindness in Starbucks. If enlightenment was permanent, I could have quit right then and gone home to do laundry and watch tv online. I felt very lucky to be shining forth my kindness and my communication skills. I am really grateful for this experience and pleased that I can rise to the occasion presented to me!