New York has had its way with me this Christmas.
I'm not sure I deserved this kind of glove-less treatment from a city I have spent so much time mentally romancing over the past many months, but that's fine, NYC...I can take it. So, here follows:
A Short List of Things Which Happened On Our New York Christmas Vacation:
1. On our first night in town, my husband's IPhone got stolen. He left it on a table in a restaurant in our beloved Brooklyn, discovered it's absence maybe 20 minutes later, ran back to the restaurant...and it was gone. This was no tragedy, I'll admit, but it was an immediate snag in our settling-in, and required lots of internet time, and a $450 gift to our local ATT store for a replacement phone.
2. My tooth fell out while eating a piece of ginger candy. (Okay, it wasn't actually my tooth...it was a crown, but still!) We were sitting in our apartment, having just finished a meal from one of our favorite local take-out places, I took a hearty bite of a piece of ginger candy, felt a less-than-delicate pulling in one of my molars and then, like a tiny little canon ball, my crown rocketed across the living room. "My tooth fell out!" I cried, horrified. "That's your TOOTH?!" Cried Paul, even more horrified. This was remedied by some phone-calls to dentists, and a trip to a drugstore to buy some temporary cement.
3. Our washing machine exploded. Apparently someone (me) didn't close the door to the washing machine hard enough (but the little light was on that said it was locked!), and so when I went back to check the progress of the clothes, what I found instead was a bathroom covered in suds. Covered. The bright side was, as we were mopping and toweling and bucketing water and foam off the bathroom floor I did think, well, at least now I KNOW the floor is clean.
4. Paul burned his finger badly on a kettle of water, causing some angry little blisters to rise up on his thumb. I think this may have happened simultaneous to the washing machine exploding.
5. For Christmas...I got pick-pocketed. Eight years I lived in New York, people, and never, not a once, did a single thing get stolen. Ever! And perhaps it's because of that, that I felt okay carrying my BRIGHT yellow wallet in a BIG open bag.... Ah, sigh. While going to see our traditional Christmas Day movie, someone decided to lighten my load, taking my wallet from my bag, and promptly spending $150 from my credit cards on subway passes. Again, not a tragedy...just a lot of calling and cancelling and lamenting...but by this point in the trip we were both starting to feel that New York had it out for us this holiday season.
6. Oh, this one is the worst. Worse than having an IPhone and a wallet stolen in the same week? Yes, I'm afraid so. Existentially worse, at least. While we were wandering around our neighborhood, a couple days after Christmas, looking for some levity, we ran into one of our neighbors, who was walking his very sweet and very old dog. And while we were talking, right there on the sidewalk, the dog started to have a massive seizure. The dog's owner knew what to do, as the dog had been having seizures recently...they think he may have a brain tumor...and so he just held him sweetly, trying to soothe the poor little guy as his body rocked and quaked. Paul and I, not knowing what else to do, just stood there quietly with them until the seizure passed. It was rough. More so, of course, for the dog's owner, who has had him for thirteen years and who neither Paul nor I have ever seen without the dog in question. They are best friends, without question.
Through all of the other minor aggravations and irritations and snags and snafus, we had been holding ourselves steady...just dealing and recovering and moving forward, but there was something about that dog and his seizure and the weight in his owner's eyes that really sent the LIST into sharp focus. What, we both wondered, is going on here?
I have been pondering it for days.
Paul has suggested that it's all just about the two of us being out of shape for New York--that the city is just trying to remind us that it's not all hotdogs and art galleries--which seems right, but not exactly it. And for awhile I freaked myself out thinking it has something to do with being LOST or, worse, being STOLEN. With what being lost or stolen? Our souls, of course! Or...our Self. Or...ugh. Just fodder for my in-house fear-monster.
But today...today, I think I have happened upon it. If not the "why" then at least a lesson in how to think about two-weeks full of craziness.
There is a sanskrit word, Pramada, which means, essentially...negligence. Or, carelessness.
(Need I say more?)
It's talked about in the Yoga Sutras, and it is listed as one of nine distractions that become obstacles on the path to practice. Now, I really thought when I started investigating this morning, that I was just going to end up reading about elephant-headed Ganesha (remover of obstacles), and that I was just going to have to do some deep-hearted praying to that little dude. But, when I came upon this word, pramada, I realized that ALL of the things listed above (save the dog, which I'll get to later), came about as a result of negligence or carelessness on our part: the phone left on the table, the ginger candy eaten (even though my dentist told me to avoid such things), the washer not closed properly, the hot kettle mis-handled, the bag left open...all of these all of these ALL of these...are (gulp) a result of carelessness.
What the Sutras say is that, whether it's negligence or laziness or instability or whatever, these nine distractions are, well...distractions. To growth. To practice. And WORSE, once the mind gets focused on the distraction in question, it quickly gets promoted from distraction to full-blown obstacle. And when it's an obstacle, you'll know, because that's when you start freaking out or shutting down or doing whatever it is that is your particular "something's wrong and I'm upset about it" reaction pattern. Example: I am not paying attention (distraction)...wallet gets stolen...I discover stolen wallet...I freak the f- out (obstacle).
And so...what are we supposed to do? Because all of these distractions, it also says right there in the Sutras, are common. They happen to everyone. So...I'm supposed to, what, keep a manic eye on my purse? That does not paint a very yogic picture. And that's not it, of course...the distractions are not symbolic, in and of themselves. My wallet didn't get stolen in order to teach me to be less trusting in crowds or more fretful about my belongings. The distractions point to something larger. They point, in this case, to a distracted mind. Numbers 1-5 listed above, all of these could have been avoided. Every single one. And they could have been avoided with the simple act of attention.
Ah yes. Paying Attention. That thing. I've heard of that.
Well, what about the dog, you ask? How did that little guy's distress have anything to do with your negligence?
Well, as I review my little list of New York foibles, all I keep thinking is that, the moment of standing there on the sidewalk, waiting out that little dog's seizure with his owner...it was, however upsetting, still a moment of deep and singular attention. It was, I think, a very stark reminder. Because, I know from experience that the universe will keep bringing you things to get your attention back into the present. It will start with something small (lost things, exploding appliances, burned fingers), and then make the signals bigger and bigger (and often worse and worse), until finally you have no choice but to focus.
So the generous universe, it has given me a very clear, and very long-winded edict to pay attention. To pay better attention. And, in honor of that sweet doggy and my dear husband and my deep wishes for 2012...I am going to do my best to follow it.
Here's wishing you a very joyful, and very present New Year
