Ask Parvati 30: Creating Your Reality - Part 3: Life Is A Mirror

Dear friends,

This week's blog topic continues below, after I take a moment to pause and reflect on my North Pole journey.

A year ago today we were in Resolute Bay, having returned from the North Pole, and we joined with Satish Sikha to unveil his green eco-silk on an iceberg.

North Pole Journey: Day Five

Satish pulls open his fabric from his jute carrying case. Sunanda, Sam and I take a portion to help him draw it open. Rishi runs his video camera up and down its length, capturing its green colour and message fluttering in the wind. Satish seems happy, despite shivering in the freezing cold. He has traveled so far for this moment. On this iceberg, in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, he exposes the hand-penned words of dignitaries from around the world as a call to ecological action in light of the melting polar ice. I am proud to hold the portion of the eco-silk fabric that I happened to sign...

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Creating Your Reality: Part 3 - Life Is A Mirror

(Continued from Reality (Capital “R”) and Reality (Lower Case “r”) )

When we think of ourselves as important and in control, we inevitably suffer. We become attached to matter (objects, people, places, things), feeling we have power over them. But they are temporal; so they will, by their very nature, change. When they change, again, we need to try to gain control over them. On an ego-driven merry-go-round, we eventually experience pain.

Great mystics and sacred texts by enlightened masters tell us that we are not the ones doing, but at best, we are servants reflecting and one with the divine. We think that we are the temporal things such as this body, this personality, these thoughts, these perceptions, but all those go when our time has come. That is reality with the small “r”. But there is an energy within that continues on even after the things bound by time are long turned to dust. That is reality with the capital “R”.

So then, you may ask, what do we do with the temporal, our passing moods, the things that come into our lives that we like, that we don’t like, our emotions, painful and joyful situation? Are they just not real and not important? What are they and why are they in our lives at all?

It is my belief that literally all of life provides us with an opportunity to grow – the good, the bad and the ugly. All of it. There is not one thing in our life that does not serve our evolution in some way.

Life is like a mirror. The more we see it as such, the happier, freer and more loving we will be. The mirror reflects all of our thoughts back to us. We see and experience life through the lens of our mind, which is the accumulation of past memories and future desires. So we see, through the events and experiences of our life, a reflection of what we think, hope, fear, want, dream and remember.

This mirror is our greatest spiritual tool and ally. It provides us with an inescapable and perfectly clear way to see our thoughts and tendencies. You may ask, why would we want to see our thoughts? The simple answer is, so we may purify them.

No one of us is perfect. We all see through the lens of our ego, until we no longer give it power, until it no longer is in charge. Before we become enlightened, we see what we want to see, we believe what we want to believe, we love what we think will make us happy, and we want what we feel we lack. This is the human condition. To add a whole lot of flavour to the mix, each one of us has our own unique colours, shapes and sizes of those wants, beliefs and desires, expressed in our own unique way.

So if you want to know how you “create your reality”, well, you don’t have to look far. Look at what is in your life right now, and you will see an exact reflection of your thoughts and tendencies. If you don’t like it, then you need to be a humble student, face your ego and go within to learn to manage your consciousness more efficiently. Welcome to life school.

(Continues tomorrow with Welcome To Life School)

 

North Pole Journey - Day Seven

Day Seven: Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Performance at Inuksuk High School IQALUIT

We fly back to Toronto today, but first, we have one last stop. I am scheduled to perform and Satish will present his fabric at Iqaluit's Inuksuk High School at 11am. It is already 8am. We must check out of the hotel and head up the hill for my sound check, costume change and walk through the show in a space I have not yet seen. Satish has a few personal pieces to tend to and encourages us to go ahead. He knows it takes me an hour and a half just to get into costume.

Our taxi pulls up to a large, electric blue building that looks like a large block of Lego, marked only by a few small, circular windows. The day has already begun for students. The halls are empty as we walk towards the administration offices to check in. I feel a sense of familiarity here. I remember this, the feeling of hormones and agitation in the air, the tension between the students feeling “I really don’t care but I have to be here” and “this is where my best friends hang” – and the teachers doing the best they can in jobs that are not easy.

Sunanda and I are shown into my makeshift dressing room, a small office that appears to be the guidance counselor’s office. The bookshelves are lined with information about birth control methods and tools for teenage pregnancy and parenting techniques. Here Sunanda begins to unpack the costume elements as I join Rishi for sound check.

Rishi is in the auditorium with two drama students. They are doing their best to tweak the sound system so that my music fills the space and feels juicy. I walk over to sing into the mic. There I tweak some knobs and bring to life a mixer covered in dust, with hidden magic elements these students knew nothing about. We are in better technical shape than I had thought. This will go over well. The sound is good.

I head back to the dressing room where Sunanda and I launch into transforming me into the mythic creature Natamba. The drama teacher has told us that her students are really excited about the show, since she told them I am a cross between Lady Gaga and Madonna.

The school bell rings and triggers a Pavlovian response in me. A feeling of excitement and freedom surges through my body. The halls fill with noisy, boisterous, vibrantly alive students who emerge from small rooms. Soon the auditorium is flooded with dynamic bodies full of the very hormones I felt pulsating through the halls when I first walked in. I peek out of my dressing room door and see a room agitated and full of energy. This is fabulous. I am ready.

The lights go out and Rishi walks on. He announces my presence and shares a brief introduction to the meaning of my trip. I walk through the cheer and break into song. The crowd is generous, palpable and vital.

After my four songs, I call over the mic for Satish, who I had not seen since morning. In the dark room, he had been patiently waiting through my performance in the front row of the auditorium. He walks onto the stage and together we unveil his fabric, explaining his mission. The auditorium is silent as the students are glued to his presentation.

Then we open a dialogue and welcome questions. The one I get the most is about the wig and costume. This is never dull, especially now with this spontaneous wig creation on my head made of recycled mayonnaise lids! It’s a great green promo piece, I joke. Satish is asked about the breadth of his travels and where he goes next. The kids are clearly inspired by our presence and shout out “great work!” and “keep going!”. This is why we have come: to touch, to inspire, to heal, and to transform. Another success as we come to the end of our North Pole journey.

As I walk off stage, CBC TV is waiting. A producer had come to televise the show and now wants to ask questions. I love the feeling of being able to reach and touch many people through the media. We live in a blessed age where distance does not matter.

Rishi is busy redirecting various teenagers that surround us. As I leave the CBC interview, students ask for my autograph. The many faces show differing stories but all have the light of hope in their eyes.

I peel myself away from the group and slip back into the dressing room. Our flight leaves in just over an hour. Sunanda helps me get out of costume as quickly as possible and we hastily make our way into a cab.

HOMEWARD BOUND

This time however, we are not all going the same direction. Just as we came separately to Resolute Bay, now we go our separate ways. Satish is on his way to Ottawa while we go home to Toronto. After this adventure of a lifetime and working in such close camaraderie, sharing the common vision to serve our planet, leaving Satish is hard. We make sure he is safely on his flight and then run to ours.

Just as our trip started barely making it to our flight Northbound, we now return home barely making it onto this flight. When we left home, our delay getting to the plane was due to the amount of tasks we had to prepare for a completely unknown experience in a very short time. Perhaps too, it was an expression of some fear of the possibility of death we could meet in the journey. Now, the tight timeline to get to our flight feels like a result of us trying to savour every last morsel of this adventure of a lifetime.

Nunavut, we will greatly miss you. Your story moved us to come to the top of the world. Now, your story is part of our own personal story. Each one of us carries within us new-found love for the Inuit, deeper love for our planet, our Mother Earth and growing gratitude for the power of friendship. Individually we are strong. But together we are One Earth family.

North Pole Journey, Day Six

Day Six: Tuesday, September 28, 2010

BACK TO IQALUIT

Satish, Sunanda, Rishi and I greet this, our last day in Resolute Bay, before sunrise. Out the breakfast room window, the wind blows powdered snow across the rocky ground and out over the frozen Arctic Ocean where yesterday we walked on icebergs. Today the sky is cloudy, still darkened by the remains of the night. Our bags are packed, awaiting us at the front door of the inn so that we may catch an early flight to Iqaluit today, en route back to Toronto. Tonight we will rest in Iqaluit, Nunavut territory’s capital city and largest community located on the south coast of Baffin Island at the head of Frobisher Bay.

We say our goodbyes to Chris at the inn, then Meghan at the airport who drives us to our departure. There is no doubt we are sad to leave. This has been an enormously important trip for each one of us, the likes of which seems still masked by a cloudy feeling that draws across my inner sight. I cannot quite see the magnitude of what this all means. All I know for sure is, like a child who marks their growth with lines on the inside of a doorjamb, the growth of my Self is marked on the doorjamb of my life by this trip to the North Pole.

The flight, which left the ground at 6:30am, is relatively uneventful. It retraces our Northbound steps, now moving back over land that we saw just a short time ago with the miracle of virgin eyes. Today’s clouds partially masks the view of the geographic magnitude we were privy to witness on the way up. Despite the cloud, I can still very much feel the expansive, harsh rock and ice that rolls out in broad, carved strokes below me. This is the land of the Inuit people where humans have survived for thousands of years. Like a child that intuitively knows its mother, I feel a connection to this part of the world, our Mother Earth, as though within me a baby Inuit soul is being born. I understand fully how I heard Her call that drew me on this journey. I am connected to the planet, to these people, to all people through my humanity, through my reliance on this majestic planet’s selfless generosity for my very survival.

The 6000-plus populated Iqaluit, by comparison to the Resolute Bay community of 200, seems like a booming metropolis. But still, the modern buildings are laid out over rough roads and sidewalks, which lend some insight into what perhaps most cities were like in early inception. Founded in 1942 as an American airbase, Iqaluit, meaning "place of many fish" in Inuktitut, is a young city.

As we arrive at the new Nova Inn, we are told that there are no rooms left to accommodate our needs. Somehow Sunanda creates magic and soon we are up in our room. The day is yet young, so we head out for a planned meeting at the Elder Centre. It is I in particular who wants to visit with the Inuit elders to hear what they have witnessed in environmental changes, to learn from their insights, to see if there is a way we can serve them and in so doing, serve the Earth.

WISDOM FROM THE ELDERS

A bilingual, middle-aged Inuit woman greets the four of us at the Center. She is our translator. Most of the elders speak only Inuktitut. Some of these people are over 100 years old.

The large, bright room with a bay window at one end is filled with perhaps people, mostly women, who sit at tables and chairs playing cards, conversing and sharing time. Rishi asks if he is allowed to videotape our visit. We are given permission.

Two women, perhaps eighty or so, become spokes people for the group. They share stories about the enormous changes they have seen over the course of their lifetime, illustrating how snow used to be pure white but is now dark, dirty and yellowed. They speak of life living off the land and how they now no longer live in igloos but in built houses. They share stories from their grandfathers, how their elders saw the coming of the white people and how they would bring this environmental change.

These elders say they have hope, that is, hope for their children. They see the Inuit children now more educated and as such, with more ability to deal with the environmental problems. For them, the future depends on the health and strength of the children.

Satish reaches into his jute bag to pull out his eco-silk fabric message, dedicated to children. Sunanda and I help open it up and walk around the edges of the room so that the elders can see the many signatures from around the world it showcases. We talk about Satish’s work and share the reasons we have come to the North Pole. I share how my music is dedicated to helping people remember the good of life, awakening to who we are, how we are all interconnected as one human family. I am asked to sing, so I spontaneously choose “You Gotta Believe”, a song I wrote on 9-11 and had the privilege to sing in New York City at the world famous Madison Square Garden. As the sound pours out of my mouth, I feel my whole body shiver with waves of energy moving through. I am reminded and humbled yet again that there is a force here that is so much greater than our limited selves can see.

SPEAKING AT THE CITY COUNCIL MEETING

The next meeting that Sunanda organized for us is with City Councilor Simon Nattaq. We make our way over to the government building. Shaking Simon’s hand is like touching the strength of the Earth. Like Sam the hunter who brought us yesterday out to the ocean icebergs, Simon feels made of the land itself. This is not a feeling I have had shaking any other politicians hand. I soon find out that Simon is not only a politician, but a respected elder in the community. A government employee translates Simon’s native tongue Inuktitut into English and our words into Inuktitut.

Satish and I speak of our mission to help awaken people to the necessity of understanding our interconnection, how we are all children of the same Mother, the planet Earth. Simon is open to this message and warm to our communication. We spend a generous half hour together. He signs Satish’s fabric in traditional Inuktitut geometric writing. His penmanship stands unique among other signatures in various languages on the electric-green silk.

We are offered a place to speak at the City Council Meeting today. At the meeting, Satish and I individually step to the microphone and each share the call of our parallel missions. As I speak, I watch the Inuit women on the board resonate with my words:

I am not a scientist who works in external laboratories. I have no clinical evidence to prove the agitation that is in Nature at this time. I am an artist. My laboratory is within. Through my inner, quiet, contemplative practice and meditation, I have felt called from within from the Earth herself to make this journey. We are one Earth family, all inter-connected through Nature, our Mother Earth.

Being a singer, songwriter and performer, what I can offer is my voice. I am here to help give voice to the environment and bring with me a message from the North. Being in the media, I am in a position to help raise awareness of the melting polar ice in people all around the world, many of whom are disconnected from Nature and are unaware of the role we each play as Earth Walkers. I am here to be present with you, to connect, to listen, to honour your ways, to respect those that are acutely aware of our interconnection with Nature. The reason we have come is to build a community of mutual trust and support. We know that only when we listen and work together can we bring about the change that is so urgently needed. I would like to hear from you if there is any way you feel we may serve you and our shared Earth.

The message from the council members echoes what we have heard unsolicited from the elders, hunters, healers, environmentalists and politicians: tell the south to stop polluting. The world’s pollution ends up in the North, at the top of our world. Nature is dying; the animals are leaving; and as such, we are suffering.

After our City Council talk, several young adults at the meeting who are part of Katimavik, an organization that educates Canadian youth through community involvement, come up to us to share how touched they are by our North Pole mission. Yes, hope is in the children. And this environmental crisis calls each one of us to make positive change in our own lives, in what we think, in how we treat ourselves, in how we listen to each other and in how we respect our planet. Yes, now more than ever, hope is born from awakened consciousness in all we do.

North Pole Blog: Day Two, Part Two - Resolute, with Satish Sikha

Day Two: Friday September 24, 2010
Part Two

GREEN MESSAGE FABRIC

After about fifteen minutes on the gravel road driving out of Resolute Bay in Meghan’s dusty, grey van, we arrive at the ice on shore of the Arctic Ocean. Rishi jumps out of the warmth of the vehicle and into the harsh wind, video camera in hand, as Meghan, Sunanda and I step onto the rocky beach, each taking a piece of Satish’s long, green, silk fabric. Satish Sikha has traveled for the past two years and nine months all around the world collecting ecological messages from dignitaries, politicians, scientists and movie stars who signed this piece of eco-silk I now have in my hand.

Inspired by an inner call to do more for the planet and funded by his own pocketbook, Satish left his thriving fashion and restaurant businesses in Toronto’s affluent Yorkville area to help give children a better future by sharing this global eco-message on the world’s longest piece of silk. Being at the Arctic Ocean is the first major step toward the completion of his project. It is here that he has promised to first showcase this silk to the world. Following this, he will travel to schools around the globe to share the messages he collected. His final destination is Antarctica. This is a labour of love. This moment marks a significant turning point along his journey.

As Sunanda, Meghan and I struggle in the fierce, icy wind to outstretch this lengthy piece of silk so that Rishi can video tape it, I watch Satish from the corner of my eye as he walks pensively towards the water to pray. I can feel the sincerity of his heart as he quietly stands on the iceberg looking out at the vast ocean. The wind blows through his tussled, thin, black hair. He is sheltered from the elements only by his dark-grey parka and a soul full of mantras and prayers.

Showcasing the Fabric on the Arctic Ocean

After a private, contemplative few minutes, he turns around and grabs a piece of the fabric. Satish, despite the frigid temperature, looks radiantly warm. His inner light is evident. Rishi walks up and down along the length of the fabric as it pushes and pulls with the energy of the strong wind. It seems as thought the fabric is breathing. Rishi captures through his lens the flutter of the silk marked by thousands of people’s messages. The voices represented in text and through our presence unite at the Arctic Ocean that has become the dumping ground for our world’s pollution. Here our combined voices seem louder, floating across the water, carried across the land and out into the world by the uncompromising wind.

Rishi steps a few feet back to capture our group of four holding onto what now feels like a kite, silk fabric seduced by the strength of the wind and pushing us backward into the icy ocean. As I firmly lean into the fabric to push against the force, I notice that I am holding the very part of the silk that I had signed. I read my words upside down: “We are wealthy when the world is healthy.” I think of the sunny day I wrote on the fabric in my mother’s back yard in Toronto less than two months ago, soon after I first met Satish, miles from where we now stand. We have come so far. So much has happened in such a short time. I was about to go on tour to promote my current album and show Yoga In the Nightclub. Now I stand on the shore of the Arctic Ocean, 1000 km from the North Pole. I feel happy and honoured to be in Resolute Bay to support Satish’s important project, whose philanthropic vision and creative fuel are akin to my own. We are kindred spirits, each with our own unique expression of a similar Earth-conscious mission, his brought to life through fabric, mine through sound. In service together we create a stronger voice on this immense planet.

Soon Rishi gives us the sign that we have the footage we need. Even though Satish has waited for this moment for the past two and a half years, he, like us, is keen to keep this short, faced with the simple reality of this harsh, Arctic cold. We promptly fold the fabric back up, tuck it in its home, a jute bag from India, and quickly make our way back to the warmth of Meghan’s van. The fabric has now been officially showcased. Satish is quiet. It feels like he is contemplating what just happened. Perhaps too he is preparing for his next step along his journey, bringing the fabric to schools all around the world. Our next destination is Qarmartalik School in Resolute Bay, where we will showcase the fabric to schoolchildren for the very first time.

QARMARTALIK SCHOOL

At the School

The warmth of the van is a welcome relief from the Arctic Ocean’s sharp wind and biting cold. All aboard, we move onto phase two of the day’s plan. We drive back to the inn in Resolute Bay, where we leave Meghan to prepare the next meal while Rishi, Sunanda, Satish and I walk over to Qarmartalik School, the only school in town, to showcase Satish’s fabric to the children there. Satish had spoken to a teacher at the school who is expecting us.

Like all the buildings in Resolute Bay, the school is raised on what seem like thin, metal stilts so that the building looks, from a distance, like it floats above the ground. The ground, made of shale, is not stable. This metal scaffolding base helps the building cope with the extremely cold weather here and shifting soils. Above the double glass doors, in Inuktitut geometric letters and in English I see the words “Qarmartalik School” that mark this location.

We walk along what seems like a typical Canadian school hallway, vinyl flooring under my feet and fluorescent lights on the ceiling. The walls are coloured by children’s collages, layers of text, drawings and photocopies that bring to life their Inuit heritage. At the end of the hall, we are at the classroom that awaits our visit.

In the Classroom

As we walk into the small room of perhaps ten Inuit students that range from age eight to twelve, the children are shy. I suddenly feel too tall, too big and overly aware that with my long blond hair and blue eyes I do not blend in at all. I smile at the children to make contact, to reach out. I can feel that beneath their shy exterior, there is a fascination as to why we are here. I feel received.

With no reflection of the obvious sincerity, skill and dedication of the teacher, I am immediately struck by an awkward and painful feeling of soulful despondence in the children in this multi-grade room. My eye is drawn to the unusual site of a child lying face down on the floor under his desk. What is he doing there? Another child seems to have a disability. He has a cheerful face with keen eyes that welcome us, yet he is covered in drool, which seems to incessantly run down his chin and chest. This is an unusual array of children, which seems to range in this small group, between those who are actively present and those who somehow have completely switched off. I feel I am witnessing another illustration of the pain I felt intuitively in the atmosphere when I woke up this morning. I can only wonder, would children who were fulfilled within themselves, at home and in their environment be like this? I feel I have stepped into a place where there is an obvious need. I feel ill equipped to provide much. We are here to serve in whatever way we can.

Satish and his Green Silk

With little time for Satish’s presentation, we get right into pulling the fabric from its jute resting-place. Sunanda and I each hold an end of the silk and begin to walk the piece around the perimeter of the room. As we unveil the electric-green silk, the energy in the room begins to shift. The vibrant colour of the fabric alone seems to bring the room to life, like a shiny green leaf in the dead of winter. The children are clearly touched. “Wow! That is amazing!” they cry. Rishi’s video camera in hand naturally ramps up the children’s excitement levels. Several ask, “Are we going to be on TV?” This is a perfect segue to begin to explain more about why we are in the Arctic.

I begin to talk about Satish’s project, the travels he has made and his desire to serve children by going to schools around the world with an ecological message. I share how I am on my way to the North Pole to sing there and help bring healing to the planet, how my music helps people remember and celebrate the gift of life. We enlist the children’s help to hold the world’s longest eco-message. We open a discussion about global warming, asking the students what changes they notice in their environment. We all share thoughts about what we can do to help Nature and how we are one global family. Most of the children perk up. A good discussion follows. It feels like we are able to bring a little light and warmth to this Arctic classroom.

Sharing Art

Before we leave, I share with the class that I will be performing at the inn after I return from the North Pole and I would love any one of the students to join me either as an audience member or as a performer to sing a song, do a dance or share whatever artistry brings them joy. A couple girls share that they throat sing and would love to come. I encourage the students to tell their friends to bring their drums, voices, dances, anything they want, so we can share through music in a couple days time.

One of the girls tells me that she loves writing poetry. She asks me if I would read one of her pieces. I encourage her to read it out loud herself, but she insists that I must read it here and now. As I start into the poem, the children gather around, hanging onto every word. I enjoy the dynamic range in the spoken sounds, the interaction between the poem, the children and myself. There is an intimacy here. I immediately can see that historically, the Inuit share their culture orally. There is something in stories that brings these children to life.

As I read on, I understand that the poem is an expression of her first romantic love, but that the author, this young girl, does not feel self-love. I feel loneliness in her words. I feel her reaching out to me through this gesture to be seen, to be heard, to heal. I am present with this child for a few minutes and encourage her to speak about what this poem means to her. She reveals little, but there seems to be some freedom for her in having heard it voiced. I encourage each of the children to follow their dreams, sharing that I need to follow the joy in my heart. Joy is the light that keeps me on track in my life. It never lies. I must be willing to listen to it and honour it. Each one of us is unique. Each one of us is called to be ourselves and shine. As the children and I share, I can feel that these young students inhale my words. I do my best to be present with each one of them.

Our Future Written on the School Walls

The bell rings. It is the end of the school day. Several children disappear from the room with the speed of vapour escaping from an open jar. Some linger, hanging on to our presence like bees to honey. We thank the teacher who clearly is gifted with deep vision, patience and compassion.

Soon we find ourselves with the time and solitude to walk slowly down the halls and read in more detail the Inuit stories and culture recounted by the children on the school’s walls. I am fascinated by what I see, descriptions of unique Inuit art, healing and games, traditions for men, women and children. I feel happy that despite the new style of teaching now in schools, the Inuit living in modern houses, eating mostly flown in food rather than hunted game, the children here are learning to honour their unique and valuable cultural roots. These children must have the skills to deal with the fallout of the ecological mess we are creating today. They live in the wake of our actions.

The Inuit have lived for thousands of years in this fierce and inhospitable land. Only a very adaptable, Earth-wise people could survive here. I feel little sense that the Inuit won't survive the change in environmental tides, other than a concern and care for the wisdom of the culture being silenced by the rubble of our self-serving, greedy culture. The Inuit have survived for millennia. It seems if any people on the planet will survive, they will. Instead I feel more aware of the other races on the planet that cannot live without running water, central heat, supermarkets, cell phones and cars. What happens when the ice completely melts?

As I look at the cultural images these Inuit children created on these school walls built by white men, I think of the future of the human race as a whole. As we face the consequences of our ignorance and its effect on Nature, it seems it is time we listened to the Inuit for guidance on how to adapt and respect Nature so that we all may survive. By honouring our unique inner voice, by listening and respecting each other and Nature, we could become a wiser, more evolved species than ever before in recorded history. We could stop living to get “now” and learn to build a balanced, lasting world. These are choices each one of us is to make not tomorrow, but today, in all our action. Each of our choices has the extraordinary power to change our world.


To be continued...