A Personal Transformation

On the thirteenth of this month, just before the close of the new moon cycle, I undertook a physical transformation to accompany my present spiritual journey shaving away all the past months’ emotions of pain and suffering, as had accumulated in the hair on my head, down to naked skin and gray shadow. Exposed and fragile yet clear and fresh, I had stood naked on the bathroom tile under the drip of cold stream water for 2 hours shaving to the scalp until trembling from cold Christine helped me finish the back of my head and rinse off in a cold shower as the sun began to set. A meditative awakening jolting me back in resonance with my heart center, eliminating the ash that had been clouding my inner vision and connection as of late. Fascinated I gently traced my fingers over the newly exposed skin trying to recall whether in this physical life these places over my skull had ever been touched so directly, with so much wonder. Spaces so soft and then like shark’s skin in a different direction, spaces finally shedding a barrier to direct contact even as new hairs pricked to the surface, recording new emotions.

So strange the sensations, strangers looking at you as if you were terminally ill or a devout religious fanatic or plain crazy or overlooking you completely as just another shave-headed young boy. And the letting go of ego in not placing any importance on the thoughts of outsiders, just trying to let the inner and the outer meld, become each other. Letting go of what one gender is permitted or not permitted to do or express in their physical appearance, letting go of the concepts of beauty and ugliness, letting go of stereotypes, expectations, and prejudices, of labels and categories, letting go of the historical images of freshly shaven women locked in asylums, taken to the gallows, tied to the stake. Many have been my inspiration to shave away my hair, burning a past in a ritual of cycles closing, cycles opening, awareness ever growing, ever learning.

I am certain my experience, my revelations are not unique, that many other men and women have felt similar cathartic release in exposing their scalp, have meditated on its personal meaning, have used the physical shedding as a foundation for a new beginning as well as a closing. For me the act marks a commitment to my spiritual practice and to self-healing and self-care; a commitment to meditation and reflection, pressing and holding open a connection to spirit so that the Universe’s energy may flow through me without stagnation. My shaved head is a reminder to make a physical space in my daily life for such meditation and observation; that my true purpose on this earth is not to cater to the whims of ego or even current societal expectation. In fact despite such weighted and ever-present distractions I must follow the path of an inner consciousness, an instinct of spirit long in evolution and memory, a connection that, I have found in practice, is held open though intentional invitation, concentration, meditation, imagination, envisioning. Whether one accesses this realm of being through repetitious chanting, prayer, humming vibration, or physical movement is irrelevant. The importance is the act of connection, of releasing stagnation, of allowing Spirit to flow, of recognizing divine expression, of filling our heart centers with gratitude. What words or dogma or activities we need to begin the journey are those which resonate with us at this very moment and from there we can become the imaginative, spiritual explorers of our destiny. For me this re-beginning of re-connecting is physically marked with a shaven head, but we each create our own rituals to demonstrate commitment, to self-remind. That we each seek out what deeply resonates within us, nurture that instinct, and commit to its exploration in the physical and spiritual realms of our lives; that is the Universe’s unique message to us, entrusted at our birth for discovery. Go seek it.

Poema A La Chinena

In September I submitted this poem to a government-funded collection of rural, Chilean stories, but have not heard anything. Still, thought it might be nice to share...

I
Yo nací en America del norte
Donde han convertido los campos en los perfiles de la capital a barrios altos
Tierras fértiles y bosques han sido cambiados por sótanos y piscinas privadas
Los frutales han sido reemplazados por árboles uniformes y rectos que no dan ninguna fruta
Cemento, plástico, vidrio, asfalto son los elementos que mandan
Mucha gente allá ha perdido su conexión al campo

II
Yo vine a America del sur en búsqueda de una escala humana
La encontré en el sur chileno entre las montañas y el mar
La gente humilde, toman té al lado del fuego bajo cielos plateados con lluvia y viento
Cazuela a la pedida, queso hecho en casa, los chanchos se engordan con los rastros de un almuerzo de domingo
Pero el trabajo es duro, la vida un baile a la orilla entre la luz de vela y una noche de tormenta
La gente de la tierra no ha abandonado los elementos sagrados ni olvidan la fuerza de nuestra naturaleza

III
Me llaman la chinena por tener raíces chinos, por vivir en el campo chileno
Acá hice mi casa con mis propias manos bajo los arco iris de un bosque lluvioso
Vivimos con mucha luz las noches de luna llena
Lavamos muchas cosas los días de tormenta
Muchos queridos nos tienen por locos, cómo vivir tan duro, caminando por kilómetros de ripio encargados
Compartimos la miel de nuestras abejas, huevos de nuestras gallinas, papas, tomates, ají de nuestra siembra
Porque vivir con la naturaleza es sentir la vida completa, su fuerza y su abundancia
Eso no quiero nunca olvidar

IV
Vivimos una fusión de campo y ciudad, urbana-rural, de las historias America norte y sur
Los cerros antes bosque también traen este recuerdo, esta lucha, como si pasara un espejo por el ecuador sur y norte
Hectáreas tras hectáreas monocultivos de pino y eucalyptus en vez de monocultivos de maíz y soya, los mismos daños con otros nombres
La gente estresada, no hay trabajo, quieren las cosas rápidas inmediatamente
Más autos, menos buses, más plástico, menos género, más cárceles, menos escuelas, más energía, menos agua
Dónde el equilibrio, los elementos sagrados lo están abandonando
Si se cambia la tierra por algo fácil, no será tan fácil recuperarla después
La fusión se colapsará, un lado eliminará al otro
Los gritos de la historia dan ecos de cuidado

V
En mis sueños vivimos en paz como los rojos de los copihues en un bosque de ulmo
Encontramos cada uno su santuario en la Tierra sin prevenir que el vecino haga lo suyo
La gente de la ciudad recuerda la gente del campo cada vez que compran en las ferias
La gente del campo invita la gente de la ciudad a meditar al lado del fuego, dejar sus ansiedades, construir con las manos
En las noches vemos huellas de estrellas y no sentimos solitos, sentimos apoyados por los millones que nos acompañan
Encontramos alternativas del camino, consciencias nuevas, fusiones del pasado y futuro
Celebramos la abundancia de los campos, los diversos artes de la ciudad, hasta que las fronteras se borran
Así nunca perdemos nuestra conexión con la Tierra