It has been a while since I visited my country because of Covid. Somehow, while we were virtually quarantined, I did a lot of reading, writing and practices. I even went to the gym on a regular basis. I concentrated on internal work: meditation, Qigong, alchemy. I also managed to have my poetry book “Ascension and Return” published and work on a book of essays “Of Fire and Water” is going on. It has been a very productive and creative time. I guess isolation can do that to you, if you do not go crazy.
I am leaving for the Philippines this month. Several seminars have been scheduled for two weekends in March: Tao Basics (Inner Smile, 6 Healing Sounds and Microcosmic Orbit Meditation); my version of the Frolic of 5 Animals; and Buddha Palm Qigong and Chi Nei Tsang internal organs massage plus ZHAN ZHUANG. My approach to all materials has changed significantly since I first taught Tao Basics in 1986 because I have learned a lot the last few decades from different masters. My CNT techniques have improved too, with my exposure to Thai Massage, Khun Ni (master of Karsai) and Sensei Kiiko Matsumoto. Of course, I’ve learned from the Thunder Path lineage: the Magus of Java (2006), the hermits of Huangshan (2007) and David Verdesi with whom I traveled Java and Bali in Indonesia, Istanbul in Turkey, Thailand and China (Huangshan, Hangzhou and Dalian) since the millennium.
Excerpts from the introduction to my book ”Of Fire and Water” (forthcoming from Tambuli Media) will shortly be printed on this site for the first time. I’ve also included photos of my “collection” and my study. Since I immerse myself in eastern culture, I’ve tried to put together Asian “educational matters” and artifacts — music, books, journals, scrolls, paintings, rugs, etc. Some of them are photographed below. I hope to show more later.
Rene
A Shrine in the Home
When I am teaching a seminar, I always advise my students to reserve a place in their house for a shrine, a special spot where they could withdraw and meditate or pray. A place away from the hubbub of the everyday, the quotidian, and there find a refuge, a Silence. There should be an easy access to a private room where you could be alone or share a cup of tea with friends.
That is part of the reason I have all these “things.” Through the years, I’ve collected statues, scrolls, paintings, art work, art objects. As you enter the house, there’s the shrine to Ganesha (thanks to Karen I was able to get one from the ashram last time we were there), where I could light a candle or an incense, and the painting of the Neijingtu shipped to me by my Filipino fraternity brother Eric Baculinao from China. There’s Lord Guan standing guard on top of a book case. There’s also a lantern of the Flower of Life hanging from the ceiling. To the left, a cove for a Thai vase, a Zhu Bei Hong plate with his famous horses and a huge calligraphy of the character Ling (by Master Chang Hung Bond) that appears in my poetry book. As you approach the door to the basement, there are: a framed poster that shows a photo of a hotel entrance from the 1920s with the sign “Positively No Filipinos Allowed,” a dragon painting from Thailand. At the landing, a Buddha from India, a Prayer Wheel from Nepal, two petrified wood in one corner and a 7 foot x 4 foot Tibetan silk thangka of Vajravarahi/Mother and Shamvara/Father in sacred embrace (from my friend Guru Bose). Finally, when you reach the bottom, a 7-foot Shiva Nataraja standing at the end of a Persian rug (from Linda V). At his feet, an incense burner, a lingam and Nandi. There are paintings hanging on the wall, a statuette of the Goddess Guanyin, another Lord Guan, some batik, a couple of ikat from Bali. On the book case behind my desk, there are several statuettes of Sun Wukong/Monkey King. Outside there’s a statue of the Goddess of Mercy sitting on the brick patio. Many of these objects I bought, many I received from friends, a few from strangers.
I’ve arranged them in different ways over the years. It is difficult to “organize” a house. There’s the fengshui of the home, of course, built around the Pa-Kua. But it evolves over the years. I find that I spend more time on different things at different seasons. I have a large collection of CDs, DVDs and vinyl records, some of them rare or old from the 1960s. On my 70th birthday my son Al gifted me with a complete high-end stereo system – wide-screen TV, record player with the diamond needle, CD, VHS, DVD player, a sub-woofer. He also brought a record cleaner later; I cleaned a few of the records I often listen to. For a time I listened to Wagner, Bach and Jacqueline DuPre and Yuja Wang — but when Al installed the different cable channels — Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Disney — in the TV room on the first floor my attention shifted. Where I was alone listening and/or writing, now I spend more time with Lolit watching different movies and series/telenovelas. Where I collected before, now I give them away piece by piece. I am no longer able to sit or have no time on the easy chair and play different recordings or watch DVDs. I am in fact giving the “stuff” away: paintings, photographs, books, rings, necklaces, scrolls, pendants, rings, capiz/mother of pearl chandeliers, statues. Eventually, only the truly essential will remain.
No matter what the season, I still withdraw into the “Dragon Lair” often, light an incense or candle and play a Mischa Maisky or a Jacqueline Dupre recording, share a rare tea and conversation with friends or just sit alone in silence in the darkness
NATARAJA, “King of Dance,” is a depiction of God as the Cosmic Dancer.
