Perhaps my mind is a maze, but life is more like a labyrinth. The difference between a labyrinth and a maze, of course, is that a maze has branches and dead-ends, but a labyrinth only has twists and turns. If you just keep walking, you will get to the centre. In other words, no matter how complicated the maze of my mind tries to make my life seem, those twists and turns are just veils hiding the unchangeable truth that reality is a reliable path.
Recently I had the opportunity to walk the Peace Miracle Labyrinth at the Sivananda Yoga Ashram Farm in Grass Valley, California. I went into the labyrinth pondering my future plans, wondering how to move towards goals without confusing process and outcome, and seeking to reconcile the concept of plans in general with the uncertainties of life and of time in general.
To enter, I took off my sandals so that I could walk barefoot. I wanted to be really aware of what was happening, for, as I have learned, awareness seems to be the key for me to ensure that I learn from my experiences. After a few minutes I began to notice the result of my decision: I was, as I had intended, very aware of what was happening. The sensations of the temperature and texture of the stones beneath my feet added to the immediacy of my experience, enhanced my ability to perceive the wonder of creation cradling me as I walked - yet the stones sometimes hurt. Isn't this what it is to eat the fruit from the tree of knowledge? We have been taught that (in the Bible) this was a fall from grace, but to me, the independent decision to seek understanding and to act according to our own god-gifted conscience is no fall at all. It is the beginning of the path. What we gain is the opportunity to be aware, fully aware, of our experience here on earth, to be able to learn from it... and at the same time to suffer pain. Suffering is part of the sacrifice we make in order to live on this planet. It is part of the payment we make in exchange for the learning we are blessed with during our time here. Simply by coming here, we have already become renunciates. We have renounced painlessness. Now the challenge is to accept our decision.
The paths inside the labyrinth are all "paved" with small white stones, and each part of the path is demarcated by borders of larger rocks. As I continued to walk, I noticed that I had to keep my eye on the path so that I wouldn't accidentally step over one of these borders and find myself in another section, not knowing which way was forward. Yet I could still see and be inspired by the tall pillar at the centre of the labyrinth. Inspired! Spiral, respiration, spires of churches... aren't these all connected? I kept my footing, looking up now and then to remind myself where I was going, but keeping my focus on where I am right now. Like life, the path is what takes me to the ultimate goal, to the centre. And it is also what keeps me from walking directly to the goal! It keeps me walking in spirals around, but not quite touching, the centre, even as it leads me there. Just like maya, it's a cosmic foreplay, veiling the ultimate truth, yet at the same time, with every atom, proclaiming nothing other than that very same truth. And so I walk. The path is the arrival. Isn't contentment on the path part of the goal? Isn't the path itself the goal?
I walked by some blackberry bushes on the outer spiral arm of the labyrinth. Of course, blackberries are not in season yet, but the thought of the delicious ripe blackberries of the future breifly crossed my lips. I noticed how nonsensical it was to think of those particular fruits. Keep walking! It's not good in life either to stop. If I have to stop moving forward in order to get something, then I know that my only motive is greed! For example, I had to come here, to California, to Sivananda Ashram Yoga Farm, to finish something I'd started, but there is no need for me to stay longer. I'm finished doing what I came to do. In my life, too, I am finding that there's an art to realizing which actions are really part of my path, and which are beside the point (like the blackberries). I am learning to ask myself, is this keeping me on the path? No? Let it go (even if it does dribble juice down my chin). Is it keeping me on the path? Yes? Follow it (even if it does dribble juice down my chin - no harm in that as long as the juice doesn't take me for a detour).
There seemed to be a pace innate to my own feet as I walked the labyrinth. I was pretty slow. In fact over the past year I have been getting the message over over that slowing down in life is what I need to do. I let the others who were entering the labyrinth go in before me so I wouldn't be holding them up, or moving at a pace unnatural to me. It didn't seem to matter if I went more slowly than others as long as I remembered that my pace was my own. I wondered sometimes how close I was to the centre, and looked to others a few times to try and orient myself. But in all those twists and turns of the labyrinth, seeing the motions of others gave me no clue at all as to where I would be walking next. Every turn continued to be a surprise as I seemed to move towards and away from the centre. Yet there was no need to strategize about where to step next - at any pace, walking in any direction, forward was forward. I didn't have to make anything happen. Just keep walking! It's easy to practice this kind of faith when I know that I am in a labyrinth. In life, I sometimes forget this. I have to remind myself to keep my faith in faith.
As I finally reached the centre of the labyrinth, I encountered my most difficult steps. Other people were standing around the tall pillar, and I knew they were waiting for me to get there before walking back out again. I knew I was close, but I didn't want to lose my awareness by starting to hurry. About twenty seconds before I arrived, the others actually did start to walk back out. I had to squeeze to the side to let them pass by me in the other direction. At first I was annoyed, but after I got to the centre myself it became a good lesson. When it was my turn to leave the centre, I found myself going in the "opposite" direction too. It reminded me that I'd best not resent people whose purposes seem to oppose my own - if I keep following my path, sooner or later I'll be going in the same direction myself. Once we get to the centre, we are all going the same way. That's good to remember.
The labyrinth did help me with my ponderings. As for my plans, I need to remember that my process is the outcome. And the uncertainties of life and time are just twists in a labyrinth that I can follow with faith to the centre. Awareness keeps me grounded where I am now; acceptance of pain underlines my commitment to learning from this life. Acknowledgement that the path takes different directions at different times allows me to accept my own pace and direction and those of others. Keeping my eye on my goal while remaining mindful of where I am now keeps me walking foward, renouncing strategic scheming in favour of faith. And contentment on the path keeps me from getting snagged in blackberry bushes.
2009-05-30
Those Crazy Vedantists
Over the past three and a half weeks, I left Yasodhara, spent time at "home" in Victoria, went to Port Alberni to visit my Grandma and extended family, hung out with my friend Jason in Seattle, and took the train to California to finish my Sivananda training in Grass Valley at one of the ashrams Swami Visnu-devananda founded. I'd initially started this training last year in India, but it was cut short by a relapse of my epic illness (my doctor at home in China had told me I wasn't well enough to leave home yet, but I didn't listen and got on the plane.)
This ashram has a different vibe than Yasodhara for sure (as evidenced by my free use of the terms "vibe" and "for sure"). In addition to the whole California-hippie-peace aura, there is a nice sort of family feeling too. There are kids running around all over the place, students chatting over meals, a mother and her daughters baking cookies in the kitchen while I do my karma yoga on dishes, couples strolling together in the early evening, and even (gasp!) karma yogis getting married to each other!
There are also a couple of older men who sit around on the veranda outside the boutique in the afternoons, sipping cold beverages and discussing spiritual and global matters.
Today, not really meaning to eavesdrop, I heard one of said fellows saying: "Spiritual neurotics are building castles in the sky. Spiritual psychotics are living in castles in the sky!"
"I wonder, which one am I?" I joined the conversation.
"By being on the spiritual path at all, you are admitting to at least some degree of schizophrenia," he expounded. "Think of it! You are eating the bread of this world, and yet doing the work of the other!"
"That's a matter of perspective, isn't it? It depends how much you feel that the things of this world are infused with the reality of the 'other' world," I responded.
His eyes bugged out and he laughed. I suddenly remembered something I'd written in my journal a few days before, and since he seemed like a good sport I decided to share it with him: "May 27. Sometimes I think vedantists sound like psychotic power-crazed maniacs when they rave about transcending Nature."
The old man laughed and laughed. He rose from the table, walked around to where I stood, raised his short arms up and embraced me. "You see what I mean!" Still laughing he went to sit back down.
I left to go do my karma yoga.
This ashram has a different vibe than Yasodhara for sure (as evidenced by my free use of the terms "vibe" and "for sure"). In addition to the whole California-hippie-peace aura, there is a nice sort of family feeling too. There are kids running around all over the place, students chatting over meals, a mother and her daughters baking cookies in the kitchen while I do my karma yoga on dishes, couples strolling together in the early evening, and even (gasp!) karma yogis getting married to each other!
There are also a couple of older men who sit around on the veranda outside the boutique in the afternoons, sipping cold beverages and discussing spiritual and global matters.
Today, not really meaning to eavesdrop, I heard one of said fellows saying: "Spiritual neurotics are building castles in the sky. Spiritual psychotics are living in castles in the sky!"
"I wonder, which one am I?" I joined the conversation.
"By being on the spiritual path at all, you are admitting to at least some degree of schizophrenia," he expounded. "Think of it! You are eating the bread of this world, and yet doing the work of the other!"
"That's a matter of perspective, isn't it? It depends how much you feel that the things of this world are infused with the reality of the 'other' world," I responded.
His eyes bugged out and he laughed. I suddenly remembered something I'd written in my journal a few days before, and since he seemed like a good sport I decided to share it with him: "May 27. Sometimes I think vedantists sound like psychotic power-crazed maniacs when they rave about transcending Nature."
The old man laughed and laughed. He rose from the table, walked around to where I stood, raised his short arms up and embraced me. "You see what I mean!" Still laughing he went to sit back down.
I left to go do my karma yoga.
2009-04-13
Green Snake and Disco Salamander Dig Celibacy Together
This is the last thing I thought I'd be posting.
Celibacy. What a daunting concept for the inexperienced!
For the past three months, I have been living in an ashram where celibacy is practiced willingly by everyone. When I first arrived here, I was not too thrilled with this aspect of community life. Instead, I was hoping to confirm my preconceived notion that this whole celibacy thing was just bunk, just a bunch of yoga propaganda. I thought for sure the whole idea of a self-imposed dry spell – even with yourself – could be dismissed as an arcane practice of self-punishment, a relic from a time when society was so hierarchical that it could not tolerate even that slight glimmer of individual agency reflected in the human sex drive. Even the instruction on celibacy (bramacharya) in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras seemed suspect: sex should only be used for its intended use... procreation, of course! Wait a minute, I thought, who says the only pure use of sex is procreation? Humans have understood the female fertility cycle for thousands of years. Only recently have we become so cut off from the rhythms of nature that this god-given method of natural family planning has become an “ineffective” method of birth control. So sex can’t be only for procreation. Isn’t it also, and perhaps more often, useful for creating moments (and hours) of blissful, sensory experience of life on earth?
So I was pretty skeptical of this whole celibacy thing. I didn’t really take the idea seriously beyond its social implications at the ashram. I agreed that it would be a good idea to avoid forming “relationships” at the ashram, but I thought of this more from a human resources management perspective than from a spiritual one. It would take a lot of coordinating to get all the pregnant karma yogis (in our ignorance of fertility cycles) to Nelson for their ultrasounds and monthly medical check-ins... and who would be willing to do a town run every time someone craved pickles and ice cream?
Of course, you can’t get pregnant from yourself, no matter how daft you are at recognizing your fertility cycles. So the whole “not even with yourself” thing seemed like rigid authoritarian overkill. Nevertheless, my chances to be a rebel were severely constrained by having a roommate, and by having shared bathrooms. Yes, as you can imagine, the tension was almost unbearable at times. And of course the ashram is over-run with radiant, glowing, shining, beautiful karma yogis and yoginis... ouch, ouch, and ouch. Though initially I schemed for my rare chances to flout the teachings in the privacy of my own company, these opportunities rarely materialized. Instead I often woke up in the middle of the night panting, cursing my body’s desires.
Eventually it so happened that the rigor of the course, combined with this lack of private opportunities, eventually worked together to keep me truly celibate, yes, even with myself, for an epic three weeks.
After the three-week mark, I noticed strange things beginning to happen.
The waking up late at night, the urges, the inappropriate thoughts... all began to melt away. I began to feel peaceful. People started commenting that I seemed serene, that I seemed at peace, contemplative even. I felt calm. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Who is that radiant one? I wondered. Had I become one of these beautiful, shining yoginis, myself? There was no doubt that my skin had a fresh glow, almost like... an afterglow. I didn’t feel like I needed release anymore. Instead, I was happy to chant in the Beach Prayer room to my favourite god Siva, and let the feelings of bliss radiate up and down my spine, spreading out to my whole body, with each repetition of the mantra. Am I in love with God? I could just inhale, looking out over the lake, and feel waves of pleasurable sensation caressing my whole body. Just feeling the Light brought me to a place that would in the past have required foreplay. And the breeze. OM Siva, you are blowing on my skin in the breeze...
Bliss is everywhere, and it exists on the fine line between the physical, and something deeper. It balances on the fine line of interface between this body through which I physically experience the glory of Creation, and the deeper essence of my Self that underlies and transcends this physical form.
These ‘physical’ feelings were the subtle yet overwhelming feelings I’d previously associated with sex, yet they became so much more available to me as I concentrated my energy on spiritual practices. They are like those waves of joy that I feel in my body when I listen to true music, but even stronger and with a wider range. (Needless to say, my experience of music has gotten to a point where the term “bliss” is far, far from hyperbole.) Was this all part of the process I’ve read of, by which the “lower” drives are transformed into subtler experiences on “higher” levels? I had never understood why anyone would want that because I thought that “subtle” meant weaker, less powerful... while I tend to want more, not less. Yet the experiences I am having are not at all less impressive to my being. The word “subtle” does apply to my experience, but in a different sense. The feelings themselves are not weaker, but maybe the “signal” that transmits them takes more subtlety for me to pick up.
I wonder if I would still have this access to this “subtle” level of feelings if I was having sex again. Of course, I have a mind that is greedy, and usually wants more. It’s also a curious mind that likes to experiment and discover. But I don’t want to put down these aspects of my mind. Though they have at times caused me to overtax myself in life, they have also acquired for me many valuable experiences that have brought me HERE, NOW, to this place and time, which is the perfect place and time for me to be. So I feel like I want to try it. I want to stay with my practices, to stay with Siva’s breath on my subtle skin, to stay with the vibrations of bliss along that subtle line of interface between my embodied form and my underlying transcendent essence... AND have sex. Can I have both? Can’t I make use of my god-gifted sexuality to feed my love affair with the Universe? Maybe there are subtler levels in the physical act than what I have experienced before.
As I like to say ever since being told it in a dream, I may have been born blind but at least I was born with a map. My body is the map. Pleasure is one of its languages, one that I am learning to read on levels I didn’t know existed. I don’t need huge neon signs to point it out to me anymore.
And celibacy? It was a challenge at first, but it has became a gateway to new dimensions of pleasure.
Celibacy. What a daunting concept for the inexperienced!
For the past three months, I have been living in an ashram where celibacy is practiced willingly by everyone. When I first arrived here, I was not too thrilled with this aspect of community life. Instead, I was hoping to confirm my preconceived notion that this whole celibacy thing was just bunk, just a bunch of yoga propaganda. I thought for sure the whole idea of a self-imposed dry spell – even with yourself – could be dismissed as an arcane practice of self-punishment, a relic from a time when society was so hierarchical that it could not tolerate even that slight glimmer of individual agency reflected in the human sex drive. Even the instruction on celibacy (bramacharya) in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras seemed suspect: sex should only be used for its intended use... procreation, of course! Wait a minute, I thought, who says the only pure use of sex is procreation? Humans have understood the female fertility cycle for thousands of years. Only recently have we become so cut off from the rhythms of nature that this god-given method of natural family planning has become an “ineffective” method of birth control. So sex can’t be only for procreation. Isn’t it also, and perhaps more often, useful for creating moments (and hours) of blissful, sensory experience of life on earth?
So I was pretty skeptical of this whole celibacy thing. I didn’t really take the idea seriously beyond its social implications at the ashram. I agreed that it would be a good idea to avoid forming “relationships” at the ashram, but I thought of this more from a human resources management perspective than from a spiritual one. It would take a lot of coordinating to get all the pregnant karma yogis (in our ignorance of fertility cycles) to Nelson for their ultrasounds and monthly medical check-ins... and who would be willing to do a town run every time someone craved pickles and ice cream?
Of course, you can’t get pregnant from yourself, no matter how daft you are at recognizing your fertility cycles. So the whole “not even with yourself” thing seemed like rigid authoritarian overkill. Nevertheless, my chances to be a rebel were severely constrained by having a roommate, and by having shared bathrooms. Yes, as you can imagine, the tension was almost unbearable at times. And of course the ashram is over-run with radiant, glowing, shining, beautiful karma yogis and yoginis... ouch, ouch, and ouch. Though initially I schemed for my rare chances to flout the teachings in the privacy of my own company, these opportunities rarely materialized. Instead I often woke up in the middle of the night panting, cursing my body’s desires.
Eventually it so happened that the rigor of the course, combined with this lack of private opportunities, eventually worked together to keep me truly celibate, yes, even with myself, for an epic three weeks.
After the three-week mark, I noticed strange things beginning to happen.
The waking up late at night, the urges, the inappropriate thoughts... all began to melt away. I began to feel peaceful. People started commenting that I seemed serene, that I seemed at peace, contemplative even. I felt calm. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Who is that radiant one? I wondered. Had I become one of these beautiful, shining yoginis, myself? There was no doubt that my skin had a fresh glow, almost like... an afterglow. I didn’t feel like I needed release anymore. Instead, I was happy to chant in the Beach Prayer room to my favourite god Siva, and let the feelings of bliss radiate up and down my spine, spreading out to my whole body, with each repetition of the mantra. Am I in love with God? I could just inhale, looking out over the lake, and feel waves of pleasurable sensation caressing my whole body. Just feeling the Light brought me to a place that would in the past have required foreplay. And the breeze. OM Siva, you are blowing on my skin in the breeze...
Bliss is everywhere, and it exists on the fine line between the physical, and something deeper. It balances on the fine line of interface between this body through which I physically experience the glory of Creation, and the deeper essence of my Self that underlies and transcends this physical form.
These ‘physical’ feelings were the subtle yet overwhelming feelings I’d previously associated with sex, yet they became so much more available to me as I concentrated my energy on spiritual practices. They are like those waves of joy that I feel in my body when I listen to true music, but even stronger and with a wider range. (Needless to say, my experience of music has gotten to a point where the term “bliss” is far, far from hyperbole.) Was this all part of the process I’ve read of, by which the “lower” drives are transformed into subtler experiences on “higher” levels? I had never understood why anyone would want that because I thought that “subtle” meant weaker, less powerful... while I tend to want more, not less. Yet the experiences I am having are not at all less impressive to my being. The word “subtle” does apply to my experience, but in a different sense. The feelings themselves are not weaker, but maybe the “signal” that transmits them takes more subtlety for me to pick up.
I wonder if I would still have this access to this “subtle” level of feelings if I was having sex again. Of course, I have a mind that is greedy, and usually wants more. It’s also a curious mind that likes to experiment and discover. But I don’t want to put down these aspects of my mind. Though they have at times caused me to overtax myself in life, they have also acquired for me many valuable experiences that have brought me HERE, NOW, to this place and time, which is the perfect place and time for me to be. So I feel like I want to try it. I want to stay with my practices, to stay with Siva’s breath on my subtle skin, to stay with the vibrations of bliss along that subtle line of interface between my embodied form and my underlying transcendent essence... AND have sex. Can I have both? Can’t I make use of my god-gifted sexuality to feed my love affair with the Universe? Maybe there are subtler levels in the physical act than what I have experienced before.
As I like to say ever since being told it in a dream, I may have been born blind but at least I was born with a map. My body is the map. Pleasure is one of its languages, one that I am learning to read on levels I didn’t know existed. I don’t need huge neon signs to point it out to me anymore.
And celibacy? It was a challenge at first, but it has became a gateway to new dimensions of pleasure.
2009-02-13
How-To: Using An Epilator
This bit is a time capsule from Dai Xin (Cierra), age 22, in Shanghai, year 2001... recently unearthed from the now-defunct icetornado website.
How-to
Using an Epilator
The epilator is an extreme machine for extreme people. Read about mine and find out how you can use your own.
Using an Epilator
I. My Epilator
The Epilator is really, really cool. I was attracted by its shiny design: picture gripping in your hand the curves of a desert landscape with a pearl-blue satin finish, topped by a row of eight shiny, revolving, mechanical pincers. It's like a very sexy android crab.
So I bought it. I took it home and plugged it in. The metal pincers whirred menacingly, flashing in the evening glow of my tianli lamp. Entranced by the fascination of it all, I let the little creature run up and down my legs and torture me for about an hour. It wasn't quite as painful as slicing myself with a knife, and it sure is a more effective hair removal tactic.
II. Buying an Epilator
The saleslady at LeGou let me read the instruction manuals for each of the different epilators they carry (all Phillips). In a variety of sizes and pastel hues, the epilators range in price from 60 to 150 Canadian dollars. I ended up buying the cheapest one because I didn't want a shaving attachment or a skin cooler or a massager with it. What's the point? I can massage with my fingers, I can cool with icewater and lavender, and I can avoid shaving for the rest of my life now that I have the epilator! My epilator is called a "Satinelle" by the manufacturers. In my opinion, although it's from the lower end of the line, it's a pretty posh product. It even comes with its own pearlized vinyl carrying case. The nylon drawstrings are a bit tacky I suppose, but one can't expect everything, can one?
III. My Epilation Expertise
Anyways, since I read all of the instruction booklets for the entire line of Phillips Epilators, and then epilated my own legs, I now consider myself to be somewhat of an epilation expert. And I do get a kick out of being an epilation hero for withstanding the pain. So, in my infinite benevolence I thought I would share my expertise with you.
IV. What is an Epilator? Epilation vs. Shaving
What is an epilator? Aside from being an object of aesthetic perfection (I'm about ready to fetishize the damn thing), it is an electronic tweezer set. You know shaving? Well, shaving is really dumb because you have to do it every few days if you want your legs to be smooth, and they are never even perfectly smooth anyways since even the next morning you can have a bit of leg stubble to wake yourself up with. No, you didn't leave sandpaper in the bed, that's what you get for SHAVING! I personally hate shaving and I never do it. Prior to last night I had both long underarm hair and long leg hair, a visual and sensory testament to my hatred of shaving. God, I'd rather grow a rainforest on my shins than have stubble. Yecch!! Stubble is for handsome boys' faces, not pretty girls' calves (unless the handsome boys' stubbly faces are getting somewhere near the pretty girls' satiny calves).
Epilating is NOT shaving. Rather than cutting your hair for you and causing skin irritations from the allergenic shaving cream, an epilator roves up and down your legs grabbing the hairs and yanking them out by the root! A much more effective method, and the violence makes it much more exciting. Even if you're allergic to metal, as I am, using the epilator is ok since it doesn't have to touch your skin. It just has to come close enough to grab those hairs.
V. Getting Ready to use the Epilator
First, if you have been growing your leg hairs, you should trim them with manicure scissors until they are a half a centimetre long or less. This is for optimum epilation.
Epilating is an extreme activity. Phillips cautions: If you have diabetes, if you are pregnant, if you have haemophilia, or if you have any type of immune definciency or reduced immune response, you should consult your doctor before using the epilator. Also, you should not use the epilator on irritated skin, skin with spots, varicose veins, or hairy birthmarks.
Since it is such an extreme hair-removal instrument, it can cause mild skin irritation. This is a normal reaction and will quickly dissappear. Well, that's a no-brainer, think of ripping out all your hairs, of course it's gonna hurt! However, Phillips and experienced epilator users all say that after epilating a few times, the user no longer feels the pain. Anyways, for the epilation virgins among us, it's a great idea to have with you a bowl of cold water with a cloth soaked in lavender. You can use this to reduce the inflammation more quickly after epilating.
Epilating works best after a bath or shower because skin and hairs must be clean and free from grease. However, they must be completely dry.
The epilator has been extensively tested for use on underarms and bikini line. BE CAREFUL with the bikini line. I would never bring an epilator anywhere near my bikini line, but then, I would never bring a bikini anywhere near my bikini line either. However, if you must dehumanize yourself by wearing a bikini, I'd rather you epilated than shaved, god, stubble is just wrong in such a nice, soft, place.
VI. Using the Epilator
Some girls change their mind about using the epilator when they hear the loud and frightening sound it makes. Those girls are obviously wusses who do not listen to enough punk music, and in my opinion they don't deserve the epilator anyways. If you want to use the epilator, you should grit your teeth and withstand the scary noise.
Pull your skin tight so the hairs stand up a bit. With the epilator at right angles to the skin, and the on/of switch facing the direction you want to move it in, epilate against the direction of hair growth. This is the stage at which many girls quit - the sudden sharp pains brought on by this violent assault upon the very roots of your leg hair make you jump at first, then they make you feel like you have to pee, but if you get over these initial reactions, it starts to be fun in a perverse sort of way. It helps if you listen to loud music (Andy Kim or New Pants are best). Don't use earphones though, it creeps me out if I can't hear the epilator working. Besides, with no loud music on, the distinct sound of the epilator will make your roommate think you are using a new vibrator. You don't want that, now, do you?
VII. After Epilating
Cool your skin with lavender icewater. Let it relax, and then treat it with your favourite cream or lotion (make sure it does not contain any alcohol). If you don't have a favourite cream or lotion, dilute ten drops of lavender oil, three drops of tea tree oil, and six drops of patchouli oil in a tablespoon of sweet apricol kernel oil and slather it all over your smooth new leggies. Admire the shine on your calves. Run your fingers up and down the smooth surface. Your legs haven't been this smooth since you were born! Try on all your anklets, put on your favourite shoes, roll your jeans cuffs up really high as though you are digging for clams at the beach... you now have fantasy ankles, so show them off!
When your leg hair starts to grow back in three to four weeks, it will be the ends of brand new hairs poking up through your skin - no stubble! New growth tends to be lighter and softer. You can re-epilate as soon as your hairs have reached 0.5 millimetres in length. Wow! If you were shaving, that would be like the next DAY! Epilating is really way better than shaving. You get three to four weeks of hair-free smoothness, and when your hair grows back it's cute soft little fluff.
When you epilate in the future, it won't hurt as much.
Take up the habit of regularly massaging your legs with a loofah. This prevents the new hairs from becoming ingrown.
Before putting your epilator away in its pearlized baggie, clean it with the brush provided. Do not use water, just whisk the hairs out of the epilating disks, put the protective cap back onto the device, admire it for a moment, and then put it away.
VIII. Conclusion
Now you can wear whatever shoes you want, whatever socks you want, whatever pants and skirts and shorts you want. I used to have to wear birkenstocks and hippie dresses in the summer if I wanted to go bare-legged and still look fashionable. Now, however, now, I can wear anything I want, from shiny pink fake-leather pants to flowery frilly miniskirts. Not that I would wear those particular things, but anyways I COULD.
Buy an epilator. Enjoy it. Admire it. Find out if you're brave enough to use it.
How-to
Using an Epilator
The epilator is an extreme machine for extreme people. Read about mine and find out how you can use your own.
Using an Epilator
I. My Epilator
The Epilator is really, really cool. I was attracted by its shiny design: picture gripping in your hand the curves of a desert landscape with a pearl-blue satin finish, topped by a row of eight shiny, revolving, mechanical pincers. It's like a very sexy android crab.
So I bought it. I took it home and plugged it in. The metal pincers whirred menacingly, flashing in the evening glow of my tianli lamp. Entranced by the fascination of it all, I let the little creature run up and down my legs and torture me for about an hour. It wasn't quite as painful as slicing myself with a knife, and it sure is a more effective hair removal tactic.
II. Buying an Epilator
The saleslady at LeGou let me read the instruction manuals for each of the different epilators they carry (all Phillips). In a variety of sizes and pastel hues, the epilators range in price from 60 to 150 Canadian dollars. I ended up buying the cheapest one because I didn't want a shaving attachment or a skin cooler or a massager with it. What's the point? I can massage with my fingers, I can cool with icewater and lavender, and I can avoid shaving for the rest of my life now that I have the epilator! My epilator is called a "Satinelle" by the manufacturers. In my opinion, although it's from the lower end of the line, it's a pretty posh product. It even comes with its own pearlized vinyl carrying case. The nylon drawstrings are a bit tacky I suppose, but one can't expect everything, can one?
III. My Epilation Expertise
Anyways, since I read all of the instruction booklets for the entire line of Phillips Epilators, and then epilated my own legs, I now consider myself to be somewhat of an epilation expert. And I do get a kick out of being an epilation hero for withstanding the pain. So, in my infinite benevolence I thought I would share my expertise with you.
IV. What is an Epilator? Epilation vs. Shaving
What is an epilator? Aside from being an object of aesthetic perfection (I'm about ready to fetishize the damn thing), it is an electronic tweezer set. You know shaving? Well, shaving is really dumb because you have to do it every few days if you want your legs to be smooth, and they are never even perfectly smooth anyways since even the next morning you can have a bit of leg stubble to wake yourself up with. No, you didn't leave sandpaper in the bed, that's what you get for SHAVING! I personally hate shaving and I never do it. Prior to last night I had both long underarm hair and long leg hair, a visual and sensory testament to my hatred of shaving. God, I'd rather grow a rainforest on my shins than have stubble. Yecch!! Stubble is for handsome boys' faces, not pretty girls' calves (unless the handsome boys' stubbly faces are getting somewhere near the pretty girls' satiny calves).
Epilating is NOT shaving. Rather than cutting your hair for you and causing skin irritations from the allergenic shaving cream, an epilator roves up and down your legs grabbing the hairs and yanking them out by the root! A much more effective method, and the violence makes it much more exciting. Even if you're allergic to metal, as I am, using the epilator is ok since it doesn't have to touch your skin. It just has to come close enough to grab those hairs.
V. Getting Ready to use the Epilator
First, if you have been growing your leg hairs, you should trim them with manicure scissors until they are a half a centimetre long or less. This is for optimum epilation.
Epilating is an extreme activity. Phillips cautions: If you have diabetes, if you are pregnant, if you have haemophilia, or if you have any type of immune definciency or reduced immune response, you should consult your doctor before using the epilator. Also, you should not use the epilator on irritated skin, skin with spots, varicose veins, or hairy birthmarks.
Since it is such an extreme hair-removal instrument, it can cause mild skin irritation. This is a normal reaction and will quickly dissappear. Well, that's a no-brainer, think of ripping out all your hairs, of course it's gonna hurt! However, Phillips and experienced epilator users all say that after epilating a few times, the user no longer feels the pain. Anyways, for the epilation virgins among us, it's a great idea to have with you a bowl of cold water with a cloth soaked in lavender. You can use this to reduce the inflammation more quickly after epilating.
Epilating works best after a bath or shower because skin and hairs must be clean and free from grease. However, they must be completely dry.
The epilator has been extensively tested for use on underarms and bikini line. BE CAREFUL with the bikini line. I would never bring an epilator anywhere near my bikini line, but then, I would never bring a bikini anywhere near my bikini line either. However, if you must dehumanize yourself by wearing a bikini, I'd rather you epilated than shaved, god, stubble is just wrong in such a nice, soft, place.
VI. Using the Epilator
Some girls change their mind about using the epilator when they hear the loud and frightening sound it makes. Those girls are obviously wusses who do not listen to enough punk music, and in my opinion they don't deserve the epilator anyways. If you want to use the epilator, you should grit your teeth and withstand the scary noise.
Pull your skin tight so the hairs stand up a bit. With the epilator at right angles to the skin, and the on/of switch facing the direction you want to move it in, epilate against the direction of hair growth. This is the stage at which many girls quit - the sudden sharp pains brought on by this violent assault upon the very roots of your leg hair make you jump at first, then they make you feel like you have to pee, but if you get over these initial reactions, it starts to be fun in a perverse sort of way. It helps if you listen to loud music (Andy Kim or New Pants are best). Don't use earphones though, it creeps me out if I can't hear the epilator working. Besides, with no loud music on, the distinct sound of the epilator will make your roommate think you are using a new vibrator. You don't want that, now, do you?
VII. After Epilating
Cool your skin with lavender icewater. Let it relax, and then treat it with your favourite cream or lotion (make sure it does not contain any alcohol). If you don't have a favourite cream or lotion, dilute ten drops of lavender oil, three drops of tea tree oil, and six drops of patchouli oil in a tablespoon of sweet apricol kernel oil and slather it all over your smooth new leggies. Admire the shine on your calves. Run your fingers up and down the smooth surface. Your legs haven't been this smooth since you were born! Try on all your anklets, put on your favourite shoes, roll your jeans cuffs up really high as though you are digging for clams at the beach... you now have fantasy ankles, so show them off!
When your leg hair starts to grow back in three to four weeks, it will be the ends of brand new hairs poking up through your skin - no stubble! New growth tends to be lighter and softer. You can re-epilate as soon as your hairs have reached 0.5 millimetres in length. Wow! If you were shaving, that would be like the next DAY! Epilating is really way better than shaving. You get three to four weeks of hair-free smoothness, and when your hair grows back it's cute soft little fluff.
When you epilate in the future, it won't hurt as much.
Take up the habit of regularly massaging your legs with a loofah. This prevents the new hairs from becoming ingrown.
Before putting your epilator away in its pearlized baggie, clean it with the brush provided. Do not use water, just whisk the hairs out of the epilating disks, put the protective cap back onto the device, admire it for a moment, and then put it away.
VIII. Conclusion
Now you can wear whatever shoes you want, whatever socks you want, whatever pants and skirts and shorts you want. I used to have to wear birkenstocks and hippie dresses in the summer if I wanted to go bare-legged and still look fashionable. Now, however, now, I can wear anything I want, from shiny pink fake-leather pants to flowery frilly miniskirts. Not that I would wear those particular things, but anyways I COULD.
Buy an epilator. Enjoy it. Admire it. Find out if you're brave enough to use it.
2009-01-29
My Roller Coaster's Got The Biggest Ups And Downs
It's amazing and crazy being in this intense self-development program at this intense amazing and crazy ashram.
I have learned from physical messages inside my body and from clear messages in my dreams that my nasty old friends Judgemental, Controlling, Insensitive, Nervous, and Overanalytical are perversions of Discernment, Self-discipline, Self-protection, Awareness, and Reason... and they occur when I don't allow my emotions. My old friends turn nasty when the messages they give me about sadness and fear and vulnerability are pushed away. I've been pushing my negative emotions away in order to get stuff done ever since I was 12. Was it ever a shock to me, when I tried it in karma yoga the other day, to discover that yes I can still get stuff done even when I don't push my emotions away. It just feels more sad. Sometimes.
Yes, that is what happened. I made a decision on a high of inspiration to allow my emotions and see what happened... and the next day I was deep in a pit of despair.
I was crying all day, for all kinds of things, little things, big things, that I had just pushed away before. It was not pleasant but I did observe that I am just as capable when I am feeling negative emotions as when I am feeling positive ones, or none at all. I also observed that the feeling of dread hanging on the horizon was gone when I didn't push my sadness and fears away and just let them inhabit me. I guess the only thing I was scared of, the only thing that was really making me so anxious before was the fact that I was trying so hard all the time to hold off the rainy weather.
I missed home, my mom, my dad, my brother, my hometown, all my exes, my computer, my dead dog, my sitar, so desperately. My whole body was seething with sad longing and I knew that my sadness was inflected with earlier sadnesses I'd pushed past, just to get stuff done: people and places I'd left, turning on a dime, without ever looking back. The sadness I had felt when I got my first period at the tender age of 9 and lost my innocent belief that I would someday be a certain kind of man. Sadness from being sick and almost dying last year. Sadness from my grandma dying. Sadness from my grandpa dying. Sadness from my great-grandma dying. Sadness from not being Chinese. Sadness from not being able to fly like Peter Pan. I could get into a list... but no. That's not the point.
For two days I was the embodiment of sorrow! Crying constantly, crying all night, crying myself to sleep. I have never really let myself do that before. I just let it happen. It was soft. I had to check in often to stop from pushing it away - admit it, you're scared of this - yes I'm scared - but I want to let it happen. I want to go to this place where my emotions are allowed and I can be with myself and care for myself with my old friends, not turned nasty. Discernment, protect me - judgement, don't torment me. Etcetera.
It lasted for two days. The next day, every movement felt like making love with myself, my breath, my body. My self.
Om Nama Sivaya!
I have learned from physical messages inside my body and from clear messages in my dreams that my nasty old friends Judgemental, Controlling, Insensitive, Nervous, and Overanalytical are perversions of Discernment, Self-discipline, Self-protection, Awareness, and Reason... and they occur when I don't allow my emotions. My old friends turn nasty when the messages they give me about sadness and fear and vulnerability are pushed away. I've been pushing my negative emotions away in order to get stuff done ever since I was 12. Was it ever a shock to me, when I tried it in karma yoga the other day, to discover that yes I can still get stuff done even when I don't push my emotions away. It just feels more sad. Sometimes.
Yes, that is what happened. I made a decision on a high of inspiration to allow my emotions and see what happened... and the next day I was deep in a pit of despair.
I was crying all day, for all kinds of things, little things, big things, that I had just pushed away before. It was not pleasant but I did observe that I am just as capable when I am feeling negative emotions as when I am feeling positive ones, or none at all. I also observed that the feeling of dread hanging on the horizon was gone when I didn't push my sadness and fears away and just let them inhabit me. I guess the only thing I was scared of, the only thing that was really making me so anxious before was the fact that I was trying so hard all the time to hold off the rainy weather.
I missed home, my mom, my dad, my brother, my hometown, all my exes, my computer, my dead dog, my sitar, so desperately. My whole body was seething with sad longing and I knew that my sadness was inflected with earlier sadnesses I'd pushed past, just to get stuff done: people and places I'd left, turning on a dime, without ever looking back. The sadness I had felt when I got my first period at the tender age of 9 and lost my innocent belief that I would someday be a certain kind of man. Sadness from being sick and almost dying last year. Sadness from my grandma dying. Sadness from my grandpa dying. Sadness from my great-grandma dying. Sadness from not being Chinese. Sadness from not being able to fly like Peter Pan. I could get into a list... but no. That's not the point.
For two days I was the embodiment of sorrow! Crying constantly, crying all night, crying myself to sleep. I have never really let myself do that before. I just let it happen. It was soft. I had to check in often to stop from pushing it away - admit it, you're scared of this - yes I'm scared - but I want to let it happen. I want to go to this place where my emotions are allowed and I can be with myself and care for myself with my old friends, not turned nasty. Discernment, protect me - judgement, don't torment me. Etcetera.
It lasted for two days. The next day, every movement felt like making love with myself, my breath, my body. My self.
Om Nama Sivaya!
2009-01-25
Savasana
I breathe in, the universe breathes into me. I breathe out, breathing back into the lungs of god, reciprocating, responding in the only way I'm meant to and the way I always will. None of us will die with our lungs full of air. We always give it back before we go.
In life what comes to me, what I receive through my senses in my daily existence, like my in-breath, is what the universe gives to me. My awareness of it all and my attentiveness to it can be honed to better receive this gift. Like my out-breath, the actions that I give back out into the world also affect my own body. Every response brings me tension or relaxation. Relaxation or peace of all kinds, and stiffness or unease of all kinds: these are the binary ones and zeros of my communication with god. In and out. We are mouth-to-mouth, we are communicating in morse code. Relaxation is a reward. It's god inside me saying yesssss.... I can choose to feel this relaxation and invoke it with every action I take, accepting that god is speaking to me through my autonomic nervous system, prompting me, as one of his creatures, to do his work of creating a sattvic universe. Being aware of what I receive, creating peace with what I give back out. Yessss....
In life what comes to me, what I receive through my senses in my daily existence, like my in-breath, is what the universe gives to me. My awareness of it all and my attentiveness to it can be honed to better receive this gift. Like my out-breath, the actions that I give back out into the world also affect my own body. Every response brings me tension or relaxation. Relaxation or peace of all kinds, and stiffness or unease of all kinds: these are the binary ones and zeros of my communication with god. In and out. We are mouth-to-mouth, we are communicating in morse code. Relaxation is a reward. It's god inside me saying yesssss.... I can choose to feel this relaxation and invoke it with every action I take, accepting that god is speaking to me through my autonomic nervous system, prompting me, as one of his creatures, to do his work of creating a sattvic universe. Being aware of what I receive, creating peace with what I give back out. Yessss....
2009-01-23
Dhanurasana
The Bow. Like bow and arrow. Like Sagittarius. Like Robin Hood.
Robin Hood. I've always wished I could be a hero for myself and others. But I tell myself I can't, that I'm not strong enough. I usually feel like I would need to be stronger to be able to embody my heroic ideals. So I try to force it. Grrr! The result? Rigidity, not strength.
In The Bow, one lies on the stomach, holds the ankles with the hands, and lifts the hands and feet up while looking farther and farther forward. According to the instructions, this pose requires me to balance flexibility with strength. What strength? I feel so weak. Usually I try to get into the pose by brute force, straining to lift my legs up behind me. Grrr! The result? No power... groan, grrr, wind down, dead batteries: I'm still on the floor, unable to even imagine lifting up.
Now, one of the things yoga is about is the union of opposites. What are my opposites? And how do strength and flexibility relate to them? Since kindergarten, I have been consciously attempting to get my masculine self in balance with my feminine self. Flexibility, openness, receptivity... these "feminine" traits are at the core of my being and they have allowed me some amazing experiences throughout my life. But until recently, my masculine side has kept these delicate creatures carefully protected. My strength, which in childhood was my precocious rational-intellectual ability, has been allowed to do the talking since that was such an advantage in terms of getting me through my interactions with my confusing world. No wonder I sometimes feel weak! There's nothing tough about being a bookworm!
Yet in the Bow, I'm supposed to balance my opposites. I hadn't gone into the Bow since last fall, before my freakish illness and bizarre recovery experiences began to open up a leading role for those softer aspects of my nature. I didn't know what to expect going into the pose now. I relaxed and reached my arms back, clasping my feet. For the first time, it seemed obvious to use my super-snap-back-ability and bennnd my spine baaack while lifting up, only then using strength to stabilize myself in the pose and lift higher. In other words, for the first time in this pose I was leading with my flexibility and assigning a supporting role to my strength.
Ta-da! It was easy to come up when I used my resources in this new and different way. Is this my real balance? Am I more at home when I let my softness lead my way? In this new balance, my flexibility becomes my true "strength" and my strength acquires the "flexibility" to step back and be supportive, instead of pushy.
Maybe I can be stronger when I use the strength I do have instead of focusing on the strength I don't. Maybe I can hit my targets if I let my soft side feel my way forward, instead of squinting into the distance, hardening myself, gritting my teeth, and pushing. Maybe the strength I already have IS enough for me to be a hero after all, if I remember to use it supportively and let my gentleness lead the way.
I'm such a gentle hero that my bow shoots flowers instead of arrows! And they hit the spot!
Robin Hood. I've always wished I could be a hero for myself and others. But I tell myself I can't, that I'm not strong enough. I usually feel like I would need to be stronger to be able to embody my heroic ideals. So I try to force it. Grrr! The result? Rigidity, not strength.
In The Bow, one lies on the stomach, holds the ankles with the hands, and lifts the hands and feet up while looking farther and farther forward. According to the instructions, this pose requires me to balance flexibility with strength. What strength? I feel so weak. Usually I try to get into the pose by brute force, straining to lift my legs up behind me. Grrr! The result? No power... groan, grrr, wind down, dead batteries: I'm still on the floor, unable to even imagine lifting up.
Now, one of the things yoga is about is the union of opposites. What are my opposites? And how do strength and flexibility relate to them? Since kindergarten, I have been consciously attempting to get my masculine self in balance with my feminine self. Flexibility, openness, receptivity... these "feminine" traits are at the core of my being and they have allowed me some amazing experiences throughout my life. But until recently, my masculine side has kept these delicate creatures carefully protected. My strength, which in childhood was my precocious rational-intellectual ability, has been allowed to do the talking since that was such an advantage in terms of getting me through my interactions with my confusing world. No wonder I sometimes feel weak! There's nothing tough about being a bookworm!
Yet in the Bow, I'm supposed to balance my opposites. I hadn't gone into the Bow since last fall, before my freakish illness and bizarre recovery experiences began to open up a leading role for those softer aspects of my nature. I didn't know what to expect going into the pose now. I relaxed and reached my arms back, clasping my feet. For the first time, it seemed obvious to use my super-snap-back-ability and bennnd my spine baaack while lifting up, only then using strength to stabilize myself in the pose and lift higher. In other words, for the first time in this pose I was leading with my flexibility and assigning a supporting role to my strength.
Ta-da! It was easy to come up when I used my resources in this new and different way. Is this my real balance? Am I more at home when I let my softness lead my way? In this new balance, my flexibility becomes my true "strength" and my strength acquires the "flexibility" to step back and be supportive, instead of pushy.
Maybe I can be stronger when I use the strength I do have instead of focusing on the strength I don't. Maybe I can hit my targets if I let my soft side feel my way forward, instead of squinting into the distance, hardening myself, gritting my teeth, and pushing. Maybe the strength I already have IS enough for me to be a hero after all, if I remember to use it supportively and let my gentleness lead the way.
I'm such a gentle hero that my bow shoots flowers instead of arrows! And they hit the spot!
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