Discovering the path I was born to travel.
At some point between age 14 and 16 yoga came into my awareness. It both fascinated and intimidated me. Asceticism and self-discipline were the words that stood out. Raised the early '70s to parents raised in Texas, there was little for me to draw on, though it seemed to me that these words also described the life of Christian monastics. On first glance I saw that the background culture of yoga is polytheism, thus I remember it being labelled "heathenism".
I was deeply pulled toward spiritual life, but remember thinking that I wanted to try out other options first. I believed that devotion to God was an exclusive proposition. Sex for pleasure rather than as spiritual communion struck me as non-devotional. A career that was not of direct service to humanity, travel for leisure rather than a pilgrimage... these seemed the epitome of worldliness. Somehow I knew that it would never be too late to follow the spiritual path, so I would try as much of the social norm as I could take.
The transition from high school to college gave me an opportunity to do just that in the most awkward of ways. Coming from a childhood marked with a series of unsettled transition beginning around 9 years old, my attempt at gaining status and standing was an extremely bumbling pursuit. Though very natural for my peers, a "conventional" career path didn't last me all the way through my twenties. It felt like a lie, and everyone around me knew it. I was fascinated by ancient wisdom, longed to experience earth-based ceremony, to touch the Higher Mind. Nature-based healing techniques pulled my interest. The Hermit and Hierophant archetypes fascinated me, both solitary, wandering mystics.
Just before the mid-point of my junior year in college a homeopathic remedy (a "constitutional dose") brought me home with a crash. After my fourth yoga class ever the remedy kicked in and I could no longer pretend to be part of the mainstream. My truth could not be unknow: the academic world would crush my soul. In my heart I knew that my life was meant to serve others, and I could not pour myself into any study found in the halls of academia. I left a full-tuition scholarship with all my possessions, including pocket sized Tao Te Ching & Bhagavad Gita, to embark on self-study.
I soon came to martial arts. Right away it became clear that this is a practice of discipline. My soul perked up when I heard "if you want to make progress, practice three hours on your own between classes", guidance that echoes the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali: progress will be seen in proportion to the level of effort given to it. I continued to travel but learned martial arts avidly. I took all free and introductory classes I came across, gathering fragments of different arts, and practiced them in a park.
Self-study eventually required funding. I got a job waiting tables in Harvard Square, Boston. Divine Grace opened my awareness to the Boston Shiatsu School after a year of passing directly below it from a taekwondo school to the restaurant. It was 1997. Thus began my commitment to Shiatsu Bodywork, the earthly partner of my Spiritual Path.
Sometimes I think about what a "hot mess" I was during these days. I tried to be a "good person", but was emotionally volatile, easily triggered, and identified more with the archetypes of science fiction than any human in society. As I moved around the country I encountered people who had stabile homes, lived near their families or close to childhood people and places. This was totally foreign to me. I didn't know how to behave in society. Seriously, I had no understanding of social politeness, and I'm fairly certain I was the wildcard at any gathering.
My friends didn't know what to expect from me. My constant companion was a sketchbook, which I schlepped everywhere to unload the contents of my subconscious. Anyone who asked about it was given access to it. It was the only way I knew to communicate with myself.
Martial arts helped me find focus, acknowledge the effect I had on others and learn to follow. Shiatsu pulled me out of aimless wandering and started the long process of becoming a person. It was not only a safe landing place, it was the school I had been seeking. I began to see the deep and wordless journey I had been on.
