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Drage
i dragi, mnogi od vas već znaju da je naša učiteljica, voljena Gabrielle
Roth, bolesna i trenutno na liječenju od raka pluća. Ne moramo vam ni reći
koliko su naša srca potresena i okrenuta molitvom i ljubavlju prema njoj.
Način na koji joj se i vi možete javiti i poslati svoje rijeci podrške,
ljubavi i iskustva iz prakse 5 Ritmova, je da postanete njen prijatelj/ica na
Facebooku... U prilogu dijelimo s vama dirljiv
i iskren članak PLEMENSKI ZAGRLJAJ, od Eliezera Sobela, kolege učitelja 5
Ritmova iz Amerike. Eliezer je autor knjige “The 99th
Monkey: A Spiritual Journalist's Misadventures with Gurus, Messiahs, Sex,
Psychedelics and Other Consciousness-Raising Experiments”, pogledajte njegove
web stranice na www.eliezersobel.com.
(knjiga sadrži poglavlje o njegovim ranim godinama u kazališnoj grupi
Gabrielle Roth, prije 30 godina, i ranim danima u Esalenu s njom...možete ju
kupiti na Amazonu) The Tribal Embrace On grief and vulnerability in the
presence of others.
In Gabrielle's work, the dance
floor is a metaphor for our lives, and thus what goes on there can be as
complex, messy and exhilarating as the rest of life. While on the surface,
the 5 Rhythms may seem to be about dance, movement is merely the vehicle for
a powerful, healing process of meditation-in-motion, aimed at unifying the
body, heart, mind, soul and spirit into our original wholeness, and addressing
our collective cultural disease of fragmentation, or what Gabrielle has
called "trizo-phrenia": thinking one thing, feeling another, and
doing a third. In this particular weekend, I experienced and expressed a deep
well of grief throughout the four days—primarily around the inevitable loss
of my parents and everyone else I love, the unthinkable sufferings of the
world at large, and my personal and private litany of unfulfilled dreams and
dashed expectations I had for myself as a young man.
Then, with only a few hours to go
in our time together, a young man in the group suddenly received word that
his father had just died. His first overwhelming impulse
was to leave the group immediately and grieve alone. But a gentle coaxing
from several of the participants and staff brought him back into the room and
onto the dance floor, completely shattered, and completely supported. Never
in my 30+ years of being both a workshop attendee and leader have I
experienced a group so instantly and dramatically let go of their own
self-preoccupations and drop down seven layers into a tangible and collective
well of grief and love, surrounding and bearing witness for our fellow
participant. When I worked as a lay hospital
chaplain, I learned that it is a holy and sacred occasion to sit with someone
at the time of their passing; on this occasion, we learned as a group that it
is equally profound to be with someone experiencing their first wave of utter
loss, shock and sorrow at hearing the news of a beloved's death. The man
e-mailed our group several days later, saying "I almost walked away and
isolated myself from the greatest gift I have ever received." How often in our time of greatest
need do we choose to completely withdraw, and attempt to deal with our inner
turmoil privately, waiting until we have put our messy insides together sufficiently
to be "presentable" enough to gingerly make social contact again?
We each received a profound lesson from this man, about responding to deep
pain and vulnerability another way, a way of remaining present to unbearable
suffering, while allowing that raw, naked place within to be seen and
tenderly held by others.
And that's also where the hurt
can be, so we all tend to proceed with great caution when approaching
another's world. Dare we toss caution to the winds and risk being seen? If we
drop our masks and stand naked and emotionally vulnerable before another,
will we still be loved and accepted? Can we release the habitual presentation
of our social personas and stand inside our authenticity and connect from
there? When we are able to do these
things, something magical happens; the world shifts, and becomes a much
friendlier place, one that can welcome and hold whoever we happen to be,
without our habitual and often unconscious obsession with trying to change or
fix who we are in the hopes of pleasing some imaginary jury and gaining their
love, acceptance and approval. What if all of who we are, just
as we are, was not only sufficient, but loveable, mysterious and ultimately
an empty, clear vessel of Divine transmission-in-action? That recognition,
when embraced, instantly transforms us from someone who is constantly looking
for love (in all the wrong places), into a beacon of light, someone able to
freely dole the love out. As Gabrielle
used to intone in the early days, "You have to give to live." The
spiritual path is never about getting something, despite all of our efforts
to do so. St. Francis made it very simple: "Let me not so much seek to
be loved, (and understood) as to love, (and understand)."
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