| A couple of months ago, I watched a television show about sacred places around the world. One of the narrators made a comment to the effect that there are places where the veil between worlds is thinner. I believe that concept can be applied to experiences as well as geographic locations. If this is the case, then the experience that follows could qualify as a sacred place. My oldest son, Isaac, recently graduated from a school of Traditional Chinese Medicine, passed the necessary accreditation exams and is now certified to practice acupuncture and other forms of healing. The path to this marvelous accomplishment is long and winding, but I want to share one leg of that journey. It's called Rebirthing. As the name implies it is about renewal, experiencing our births anew, trading in past trauma for new possibilities, or otherwise rejuvenating ourselves by letting go of painful aspects of our pasts. The term "Rebirthing" likely conjures up images of however the reader perceives being born again. There are countless ways to be reborn. Some have religious implications and others do not. Rebirthing is not a religion, I do not regard the practice as a panacea, I do not think for one second that it will benefit everyone, and I do not consider myself to be anymore than a raw novice. But I find Rebirthing to be a very effective way for me to let go of past stuff in a faster and cleaner way than the mental, intellectual and emotional drudgery that I have, on occasion, subjected myself to under the guise of therapy. /Isaac turned me on to Rebirthing and he was so excited about it that I felt that I absolutely had to give it a try. It may be useful to keep in mind that my (now adult) children -- Isaac, Julian and Alicia -- grew up in an environment that included Hatha Yoga, meditation, and pranayama (working with life's subtle energy through the control of the breath). I have studied Tai Chi, Tae Kwon Do and walked on hot coals in attempts to experience places where the veil between worlds is thinner. It's all a mystery to me. Every breath. Every thought. Every image that is taken in through the senses or the imagination. It's all magic of the highest order. The simplest way to think about Rebirthing is to explain the actual practice that involves: 1) Stretching out comfortably on your back in a serene environment -- indoors or outdoors -- without telephones, televisions or other distractions; 2) Setting an intention for the session such as forgiving a person for a past hurt that they caused you or forgiving ourselves for some pain we have inflicted; 3) Breathing deeply and evenly through the mouth for a prolonged period of time with your attention focused on your breathing as the usual thoughts (of overdue bills, what you need from the store, the ring you misplaced last year, or the deadline for a large project at work) attempt to assault your peace of mind. Don't fight these things. Struggling with them only makes them stronger. Watch them dissolve just as thick clouds thin, then eventually disappear. Each session lasts about an hour. It is recommended that you have a person experienced in Rebirthing to coach you during the process. To remind you to focus on your breathing and intention and to not judge the experiences and feelings that may be unearthed. I admit that I was skeptical at first. My intellect, which is the repository of all the things I think I know, took over and told me things like: "Rebirthing can't be worth anything -- it's way too simple a process," or "I used to do all kinds of breathing exercises back in my Yoga days, so Rebirthing isn't anything new to me." I was wrong. I stretched out on my back in the grass. My coach knelt by my head. Her name is Susan (not her real name). I had not met her before the weekend of the retreat, but I trusted her. There is something comforting about being around people who have come together for the same purpose. All the other frictions like race, sex and economic status gently take their proper place in the line of human concerns. The differences don't go away; they just struggle much less for prominence. There were about 20 other pairs strewn about the grass. Susan asked me what my intention was for the session. I told her that it was to face the guilt I experienced for pain that I had inflicted on someone who had shown me nothing but love and kindness. Another way to look at is was that it was my intention to forgive myself. Susan asked me to condense my intention into one succinct sentence. I did. Then she asked me to begin breathing deeply, rhythmically, and quickly through my mouth. I did. I felt foolish at first. My lips, mouth and throat became dry almost immediately. My mind filled with mundane thoughts. I flashed back to my Yoga days when we were taught a variety of breathing exercises that required breathing through the nose. Mouth breathing was almost blasphemous. Susan encouraged me. Told me to repeat my intention and continue to breathe in the prescribed manner. Then something interesting happened. It was as though the volume on all my senses got turned way up. It was autumn and the leaves of surrounding trees rustled in orange, yellow, red and brown ebullience. But even though they fell like rain, I could hear each one distinctly and see them through closed eye lids. A feeling of unmitigated joy grew, from the size of a tiny seed, in my stomach to engulf my entire body. I convulsed with happiness, and everything was so joyous that I couldn't do anything but laugh. Every sound made me laugh harder. I thought the usually noiseless sound of falling leaves was the funniest thing I had ever heard until a bird on a tree branch way above my head began to chastise me ruthlessly for some unknown reason. I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe. My face and stomach hurt in a good way. I felt that I was a part of everything that surrounded me. I panicked for a moment when I honestly felt that I could seep into the earth beneath me and never be seen again in my body -- the form to which I had become accustomed. But that fear passed quickly when I realized -- in a way that I can only describe as non-intellectual -- that all the forms and divisions I accepted as real were the mere fabrications of limited minds. I was nudged back into ordinary "reality" when I became somewhat aware of the other Rebirthers sprawled out on the grass. Their journeys did not appear to be as uproarious as mine. For a brief time I was thrown into a chapter of 'Dante's Inferno' or a scene from the old black and white movie 'Snake Pit.' The ground around me writhed with the pain of my colleagues. They moaned and cried as they recounted long-forgotten pain from their pasts. I caught little snippets of their individual horrors. There was usually a parent or other close relative involved. I was amazed at how many of the journeys into caustic pasts were tainted with sexual and others kinds of abuse. Many of the protestations started out with words like, 'Daddy, please don't . . . ' to be followed with the specifics of what had been done to them that I do not have the right or inclination to share. I felt a tinge of guilt and shame as I vicariously shared their pain because joy continued to be the feeling that prevailed in every inch of my being. I tried to think about sad things in my life, but the joyous feeling only intensified. I tried to focus on the individual laments that exploded all around me, but my feelings of happiness only threw me into other fits of laughter. Then it came to me. Something profound and simple. I repeated the words that fell from my lips like leaves dropping from autumn trees: Joy is my essence. I knew it to be true. I did not need corroboration. To deny my essence meant death or partial life which is simply a breathing, walking form of death. Tuning into the despair that surrounded me would not have diminished that despair one iota. Being other than who I am does not help another to see through the fallacy of who they think they are or pretend to be; nor can my self-delusion lend strength to others' pursuit of who they really are. In short, denying or ignoring our essence serves no useful purpose from any perspective. I don't feel particularly joyful today. Guess that means I'll have to dig a little deeper. Nobody said it would be easy. |
| Simple things/Lang Kenneth Haynes Rebirthing |
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