DAYS 88-92: 12 Minutes & 20/30/40/50 Seconds of Gazing (again)
I have been gazing every day at the colorful New England sunrise with it’s splashes of pink and neon orange as the sun lights the clouds, then the rest of the sky, on fire. Sometimes I think this ritual of getting myself up before the sun and spending a chunk of minutes staring at beauty and mystery is the reason that the sun gazing seems to be working magic on my inner world of emotions. But then the sun opens itself up to me, and I can see the textures swirling around in there, a sight invisible to most because of the sheer brightness of it. At those times I become more certain something actually magical is happening. Magic just means a phenomena that science can’t explain yet, but I believe will one day be able to readily explain. In the meantime, this advanced science of sun-gazing is going to seem like magic to our western rational prove-it-or-it’s-bullshit type of thinking. In the spirit of proving it I can only say this is something you have to try for yourself in order to fully understand. My mind used to run on fumes and still be able to run sixty miles an hour. Constant fretting mixed with regretting and all I was getting was the same dead end setting. Now my mental tank is full and my thoughts are clearer, kinder, more rational. I used to concoct doomsday scenarios in my mind about anything form a harmless comment a friend made to the vast conspiracies of the government, from a parental guilt trip to an adventurous road trip, my mind was constantly ablaze with worry, gloom and a fixation on worst case scenarios. Why did my friend say that to me? When is the government going to collapse the dollar and send us back into the great depression era? Will my mom ever let her grudges go? Will my car make it all the way to Vegas? “Probably not,” my defiant and defeated mind would scream at me. “You are stuck in this rut, you aren’t going to go anywhere, effect anything, or become anyone; so you might as well just stuff your face, sit on your couch and go the fuck to hell.” We all have some kind of mental jungle gym we try to navigate or “manage” every day. It’s the nature of our culture to teach us to worry, to honor our every whim and irrational notion of life. This deep-seated anxiousness, I am realizing, is not an innate part of our human condition, but a learned behavior programmed into our psyches by the pounding of the televisions, the main stream media’s constant beating of the war drums, and our choices to believe what we are being led to believe instead of what we’ve decided to think for ourselves. Through this ancient magical practice of sun-gazing (and yes I’m calling it magic now) I have discovered that learning to “manage” our mental and emotional condition is a temporary solution, a band-aid. I thought I was managing for years, but that didn’t stop me from experiencing misery due to imaginary outcomes that never do come out. Now as the sun light has chased the darkness right out of my brain as I near then end of phase one, I realize there is a better way to feel, think, and live. Managing isn’t enough; overcoming weak irrational notions and the habitual program to create imaginary problems is the way to freedom. The sun is helping me to heal, not simply to manage. The sun gazing is more than a band-aid, it’s open-your-heart surgery, that allows you to triple bypass all your old wounds and habits and fears and recover your true nature. A POEM: The Sun is revealing The answer by healing so I’m no longer reeling but actually feeling and reaching for heights way up past the ceiling. SIDE EFFECTS: None BENEFITS: I am free from worry. Truly free. Sometimes a worry will creep into my mind but I can see them right away, doubt them, and watch them go. They no longer have the ability to sprout into worst case scenarios that would paralyze me and prevent positive action. Life is good, and that’s not just a platitude anymore, I actually truly believe that, if you can imagine.
DAY 87: 12 Minutes & 10 Seconds of Gazing (again)
This morning marks the second occasion on which I gaze for 12 minutes and 10 seconds because I have rewound my experiment by a week and am doing the entire twelfth minute for a second time to make up for a few missed days. I went to the same railing by the edge of the water down the road my sister’s house and watched as the glowing orange frisbee hurled itself in slow motion toward the sky, still hunted and swarmed by gnats, but this time I didn’t care. I was reconnected to the sun, and reconnected to my peaceful bliss. In California I have been gazing at the sun from a mountain top as it emerges from behind another mountain ridge so I don’t catch my first glimpse until about twenty to thirty minutes after the official sunrise time. The sun is bright by then and shedding off the last thin layer of barely yellow skin, exposing a naked white burning center, that causes tears and squints. Here on the east coast I am watching the sun as soon as it peeks over the surface of the ocean, so I still see it when it’s almost pink and burnt rust, just moments after the official sunrise time. It’s gentle and sensual, like romantic candlelight. The sun is courting me, wooing me with a candlelit breakfast of solar energy. I picture it wearing a sexy banana hammock and doing a slow dance for me, not that it has any kind of ‘banana’ to speak of. Is it strange that the sun sometimes seems like a father, sometimes a lover, and sometimes a stranger to me? I’ll leave that for all the psychologists to figure out and in the meantime I’ll gaze into my lover’s deep set orange eye and continue to heal. As I approach the end of Phase One I can support the claims made by other sun-gazers, in particular HRM on his website solarhealing.com when they say that the first three months center on emotional and mental healing. I feel calmer and happier. Indeed yesterday I was walking out of Wal-Mart, a store that usually leaves me languishing in fatigue and regret, but after my return to sun-gazing I guess I had a new bounce in my step, because I was stopped by yet another stranger with some random and unsolicited encouragement for me. This time it wasn’t a homeless person, or a drunk party goer, or a yogi on a mountain top whom The Great Whatever had called upon to deliver a message, but a young girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. As I was walking out of the Wal-Mart she was walking in, with a bright smile; as we passed each other she offered “you look so happy.” I laughed, surprised. Then in a reply that I realized was true as I was saying it I said “I am happy, thank you.” As we passed each other she told me to have a great day and at that moment I knew that I would. Happiness is a funny thing. It’s available to us all the time, because it is simply a mood, and for the most part that is something we can create and sustain by making adjustments to our mindset. The sun has been making those adjustments for me over the last three months and as I write and reflect on them they become more true. Yesterday, however, God or The Great Whatever (my new nickname for the creative field of energy that connects us all) was again being particularly direct with me. I have taken five weeks off from my responsibilities in Los Angeles and I am still getting paid. I have a new born niece and a closer relationship with my mom and sister that the three of us haven’t enjoyed since Cheryl graduated from high school twenty years ago. My inner mental drama has been tamed by the sunlight. Emotional turmoil is easy to notice in its early stages and can be transmuted into productive energy for my art, also thanks to revelations from the sun. In short: I am happy, happier than I’ve been since childhood. I’ve been this way for weeks now and my circumstances continue to support me and offer prosperity. But somehow when that girl told me how happy I looked it made me realize how happy I feel, indeed how happy I really am. I’ve been walking in a rose garden but forgot to take the time to stop and smell any roses. After the comment from Wal-mart Girl I smelled nothing but roses for the rest of the day, even while my sister was changing little Charlie’s diaper. SIDE EFFECTS: If you are slow to the dawning of your new mental states produced by sun gazing, the Universe is going to have people tell you directly that you are happy. Then you can stop and smell the roses BENEFITS: If you but just realize it, once you get this far into the gazing process, everything seems to smell like roses all the time.
DAYS 72-86: The 12th Minute & The 12th Minute Redux
The jungle gym of life that must be traversed to actually try and see the sun every day can be very challenging. Once you maneuver around the clouds, and adjust your social life to fit the sun’s schedule you think you’ve go this sun-gazing thing down. But the tiniest little blip in the schedule and you easily miss a day. Any large blips in the schedule and you can find yourself missing whole chunks of nourishing light as you try mightily to get your ass out in front of the sun before it sinks below the cityscape for yet another day. After my 11 minute and 50 second day in mid-June things started to crack and crumble for me in terms of my time spent gazing. The following day was supposed to be twelve minutes; I estimated the angle of the sun wrong and by the time I began gazing I was only able to get to 9 minutes and 45 seconds before the sun set behind the sunset strip in West Hollywood. I managed to gaze successfully for the next five days (with the exception of the 12 minute and 30 second day), but by the time I got to the day I was going to do 13 full minutes things took a drastic turn toward the busy-as-hell. I didn’t know it at the time but I was going to miss the next 7 days in a row as I prepared my business to run without me for five weeks while I took a trip back home to visit my new born niece. Charlotte, who I call Charlie, and who I will eventually call Chuck (when my sister and brother-in-law aren’t around because they hate that) was born on June 7th. I have been planning a five week trip back to Connecticut to see her and love her while she’s still smaller than a football; she was a mere 5 lbs and 9 ounces when she arrived on the planet. I thought I was in love with her before I left Los Angeles, because the pictures of her were certainly captivating and beautiful, but upon seeing her I actually fell in love. What I was calling love before was just theoretical fascination, obligatory excitement, imitation affection. It was the saccharine Sweet-n-low version of the genuine love she inspired in me as she slept in my arms that first afternoon upon my arrival in Black Rock CT. As I prepared my marijuana collective to run without me, the blips in my schedule kept me and my new dad, the sun (who actually does give hugs), apart. I was busy training a full staff to work the shop. I was hard at work updating training manuals and calling suppliers to get the shelves fully stocked. Each day as the mounting “To Do” lists cluttered my mind, my mental clouds kept the sun at bay. Each night I’d come up for air feeling like I’d accomplished a great many things only to find the sky already dimming and the sun waving good-bye from the other side of the concrete stalagmites rising up between me and the solar energy I was again starting to crave. So even though I made it to twelve minutes and fifty seconds before my week of accidental vacation from the sunlight I have decided to rewind my gazing experiment by a week. This morning July 1, after settling in at my sister’s home for the next few weeks I gazed for the first time in seven day for twelve full minutes, instead of moving onto thirteen, where I actually left off. I would rather have my experiment finish a week later than anticipated in January than miss even a few seconds of the prescribed amount of solar energy that I’ve been drinking in with my eyes. Baby Charlie, it seems, is in full support of me gazing at sunrise while I’m in Black Rock, because she wakes up every morning about ten minutes before the sun does to tell me loudly and in no uncertain terms that I am not supposed to stay asleep anymore. Maybe she’s just hungry, but there is something in the way she cries that makes me think she’s saying “get the hell up Uncle Brian, I want to be the first ever baby who has an uncle with superpowers.” Okay, Chuck, I’m up, I’m up. Finally awake, and tucked away safely in Black Rock, away from the distractions and accelerated pace of my daily life in Los Angeles I felt a surge of excitement. I was going to gaze for the first time in a week and as I let the grogginess drain from my eyes it felt like Christmas morning. This was going to be perfect. I’m surrounded by family. I’m free of my regular work responsibilities. And I’m a mere half mile from the beach where the sun will be floating up above the ocean in all it’s deep orange glory. This is going to be a blissful morning. Then the Universe, with it’s wicked sense of humor, began interfering in my best laid plans. As I tip toed around the house trying not to disturb Charlie, oddly resting very peacefully now, I became quietly frantic as I couldn’t find my sisters car keys. You can’t get loud when the stakes involve waking a sleeping new born so I silently and venomously cursed my sister up and down for not leaving her keys out for me. I mean, geez, all she has to do is stay at home and take care of a new born baby and she let this slip her mind, it was unfathomable. So, after decidedly not forgiving her for her negligence I walked to the beach in that east coast humidity that makes you feel with every step like you are slaving over a hot pot of stew, not walking breezily toward the beach. I finally found a spot to gaze, kicked off my shoes, set
Smoke & Mirrors: Slight of Hand About a Magical Plant
There is major confusion surrounding many aspects of the ubiquitous, yet seriously misunderstood botanical phenomenon knows as Mary Jane, or in the stodgier circles of the laboratory: Cannabis Sativa Afghanica Indica Cunningham—or Pot for short. I intend to clear away some of the smoke and lay out some of the cold hard facts. The confusion I’m referring to is not the befuddlement caused by a few tokes of your Brother-In-Law’s good stuff after a Thanksgiving dinner, it’s the conflict and question given rise by our gut when we know we are being deliberately lied to, but we don’t know why or by whom? I may sound paranoid, but sometimes paranoia is a proper response, and that’s when a conspiracy theory isn’t just a theory anymore. And no, I’m not paranoid because I got too stoned. Let’s start at the beginning, roughly a bunch of millennia ago, when pot first appeared on the scene. According to advancedholisitic.org we can trace societal acceptance for and the usefulness of hemp back to 8,000BCE, which is over 10,000 years ago. “Finding hemp use and cultivation in this date range puts it as one of the first and oldest known human agriculture crops” according to the website. Carl Sagan expanded on this point in 1977 suggesting that marijuana may be the world’s first agricultural crop, becoming the catalyst for modern civilization itself. If that’s true it would seem to me that humanity evolved pretty well from our stoned beginnings and now, under the century of prohibition we seem to be falling apart. Maybe medical marijuana can not only help save patients from pain but possibly can help save society as a whole from the impending pain we are about to unleash upon ourselves when our consumer lifestyle leads to a massive collapse of the modern standard of living we’ve come to know. Hemp use, for recreation and healing, as well as for clothes, paper, ropes, construction materials and food is well documented throughout humanity’s history. 100 BC we find the first evidence of hemp paper in China, which is stronger and longer lasting paper than the thin and highly degradable type we manufacture today from trees. The Constitution of the United States was printed on hemp paper, indeed that’s why it has lasted to this day. In concentrated doses cannabis is anti-inflammatory, and anti-tumoral. It literally shrinks tumors and reverses their effects. The research on this is spotty because of a mix of deliberate deception and incompetence, but I’ve seen this treatment work. I am treating a mole on my body this way right now, and it’s beginning to shrink. So I became infatuated, captivated by Mary Jane herself. My passion to learn everything I could about pot took root inside me. The hemp plant itself has the hardest fiber of all plants that can be processed so it makes higher quality paper than trees, which could mean an end to deforestation. The oil from the stalk can be used instead of crude oil to make all petroleum based “plastic” items we use today, thus eliminating toxic plastic from the planet and replacing it with something lasting but safe. It can further be processed into non-toxic paint, heating fuel, car fuel, construction materials, cords, rope and clothes. Additionally hemp seed is the most complete form of food on the planet, being the only thing containing every known amino-acid chain as well as an abundance of nutrients and minerals. Just by being planted in large enough numbers, the amount of carbon dioxide it uses can single-handedly reverse our man-made carbon foot print, while the seeds it would produce can feed everybody three times over. And finally it’s one of the most advanced plants out there, being able to be both male and female, pollinate itself, grow in almost any climate and reproduce in vast quantities without any help—that’s why we call it a weed. Pot, in short, is a miracle. I am caught in the thrall of this new phenomenon that has the potential to reverse many catastrophic trends facing humanity. I mean, we know it’s good for the economy! So why is this information so hard to come by? Why has prohibition of such a wondrous miracle plant lasted for almost a century? And why don’t we rise up and put an end to all of humanity’s problems in one fell swoop by legalizing, harvesting, manufacturing and—yes—even smoking this miracle plant. If cannabis can yield eco-friendly versions of all the toxic modern day comforts we have come to know and love then what is the hold up? Is it because those of us who know about this kind of thing happen to be stoned all the time? Well I don’t think that’s it. The medical marijuana movement has gained more support and accomplished more in the last five years than it had in the previous 15 years before that. And awareness of hemp and it’s beneficial, nay, miraculous effects is becoming common knowledge. So why does it seem that our consciousness regarding this issue moves at a stoned snail’s pace? Because we are being deliberately lied to. Marijuana is a plant and therefore it cannot be patented. The equalizing nature of this makes it a threat to many industries, from oil to plastic to cotton, even to paper and pharmaceutical drugs. If people can grow their own medicine in their back yard or their home then where does that leave the prozac pushers? The deliberate disinformation campaign has been fully underway for decades now. In the 1930’s citizens were told that marijuana would make black men and Mexicans rape women. Then in a complete one-eighty in 1942, in order to win WWII, the US government ordered farmers to grow the crop to make equipment and rope for their ships and soldiers. In the late 1960’s ganja caused a massive cultural and spiritual awakening prompting Nixon in 1971 to declare a war on drugs. The last thing men in power want is a society that’s
DAY 71: 11 Minutes & 50 Seconds of Gazing
“I cannot cause light, the most I can do is put myself in the path of it’s beam.” -Annie Dillard Tonight I gazed again at sunset, this time with a small group of casual gazers. My friends Nikki, Kelly and Johanna all joined me on the top of the mountain to watch the glowing gentle ball as it disappeared from our view. The alter that Yogi D made the night before was still there, a reminder to me of the day the Universe gave me a great big hug. I smiled at my magical memories of that mystical day as we waited for the sun to shift from the hot white of day to the evening shade of deep gold that can hold your eyes transfixed. Kelly, who was gazing for the first time, managed to keep her eyes locked on the ball of fire for almost the entire time. Nikki and Johanna who also only gaze occasionally, were motionless and mesmerized. The light just before the dark dusk of evening captivates us more easily, like a glowing hearth light in the fireplace of your childhood home that you are returning to for the first time since last Christmas. It’s sweet, welcoming, and familiar. Kelly almost didn’t join us on our small mountain trek to meet the sun because she was feeling nauseous. After the gazing was over she marveled that she felt better, she was no longer nauseous. I was surprised because from my research I thought physical healing wouldn’t happen until after three months of continuous gazing. But I guess if you jump from ten seconds to twelve minutes your first time out the miracles can come even quicker. The skeptics may argue it was just getting out of the house, or the fresh air, or the good times with friends that made Kelly feel better. They could be right, but whatever the cause the fact remains: Kelly was nauseous, gazed at the sun and was nauseous no more. Johanna and Nikki both report the sun becomes solid black color to them after a short time of gazing. My yoga teacher and fellow gazer Brett has told me the same thing before as well. I have read some articles about Surya Yoga (or Sun Yoga) where the Yogi’s report the same thing, the disc becomes black and then after a while they report it will open itself up to you, almost like you are now looking behind it or through it. I have yet to experience this transformation from white to black as I gaze. For now I am content to experience my inner transformation from dark to light. I feel more light-hearted, and more enlightened. I say “enlightened” meaning that I understand the oneness of things now so in spite of stressful events around me I am able to remain relaxed and at peace in circumstances that might have driven me up the wall a few short months ago. As the sun fills me with light, I am indeed able to lighten up. SIDE EFFECTS: None BENEFITS: The mental and emotional transformation promised in phase one (1-3 months) is in full swing. The changes in me and my world view are real, lasting and filled with light.
DAYS 67-70: 11 Minutes & 10/20/30 Seconds – A Hug from Dad
“Science and religion are not at odds, science is simply too young to understand.” – Dan Brown (Angels & Demons) I can’t prove sun-gazing works scientifically at this point in our civilizations history. I can only prove it anecdotally. I read an article on scienceblogs.com yesterday where a sarcastic (and it seemed arrogant) doctor explained in no uncertain terms why it is simply impossible for sun-gazing to work. He made the case that there is no science to back up any of the personal stories being told. He’s right about that, which is exactly why I decided to try this myself and add another personal story to the mix. I wonder how many supposedly impossible things have to become not only possible but mundane before we stop throwing around that word with such arrogant swagger. Impossible is simply the possible that has yet to be experienced. If you asked a cave man if he thought something hot that could easily give light and warmth to the creatures of the earth was possible he would have laughed in your face and perhaps clubbed you to death. And now just a few short millennia later we know fire to be one of the most fundamental and basic elements there is. If you told a field hand in Europe a mere five hundred years ago that in just two centuries there would be a machine that could pick and harvest entire fields of crops for him while he just sat there pushing on a pedal he would have said impossible. Before you could even say plow he might have plowed his shovel into your face and dragged you into the town square claiming you to be a witch. Just one hundred years ago we would have said “impossible” about the moon landing, and color TV. And just thirty years ago the idea of cell phones seemed preposterous reserved for the annals of science fiction. From the discovery of fire to the discovery of wireless we have been proving that the idea of impossible is really the only impossible thing at all. Some day I am sure science will explain in some way how we harvest the suns energy even without the presence of photo receptors. We already synthesize vitamin D from the sun, and this phenomenon is well documented. We know it produces seratonin as well. So why it’s such a threatening leap to consider the idea that it can energize the brain, heal disease, or lead to spiritual awakening is beyond me. The sun is literally responsible for all life on the planet, so the idea that it contains within it the ability to sustain that same life seems reasonable, and when you get past the cultural lies about the sun’s danger, even intuitive to me. I understand now that when people dismissively label things as impossible what they are truly revealing is that it’s simply impossible for them to understand or imagine. So until our young science grows into maturity and finds some way to explain everything as yet unexplained, I fall back on my experience and my anecdotes to shine light, ahem-sunlight, on the new facets of our existence being revealed to me by our bright central star. Today, Father’s Day, was one such magical day. Since my sun gazing adventure began I have noticed the universe become wholly more responsive to me. I feel an ever crescendoing spiral of synchronicity as events and circumstances seems to organize themselves for me as if I was the master of the universe. I was laying on my couch in the late morning trying to convince myself to go to the coffee shop and write when my neighbor Kelly came over and invited me to a coffee shop across town, where she explained, a friend had posted on Facebook that he was giving out free hugs to any and all. I was intrigued and I love hugs so off we went. After a hearty dose of free hugs, Kelly, Nikki and I enjoyed breakfast together. Father’s day came up in the conversation and I told the girls a story I hadn’t told or even thought about in years. It was just after high school graduation and I hadn’t seen my father in a while because when I found out he hadn’t been paying child support to my mom, the warrior who single-handedly raised two children, we had a bit of a falling out. I had recently entered my born-again phase around then, so in the fall of 1997 I went to pay my father a visit, forgive him, and forge our relationship anew. While sitting across the table from him I remember two things most vividly. I told him I forgave him and he said he didn’t think he had anything to be forgiven for. Undeterred I told him that I needed to forgive him and so he had my forgiveness anyhow. After a deafening silence and before I knew what I had said I blurted out a question: “Do you love me, Dad?” A moment that seems like a millennia passed and finally he muttered “well, I care for you, son.” I stood up from the table instantly and almost in slow motion I left that house and left my father behind. I have not seen him since that day. At the breakfast table the girls were dumbfounded. They listened and we all indulged in more free hugs, this time hugging each other. Later in the day I was walking to the grocery store with Nikki when we were stopped by a man who stumbled from a bar saying “I am having the best day of my life, who wants to give me a free hug?” He was cute, and I figured we owed some free hugs back to the world so I jumped in. He picked me up, held me tight and swung me from side to side. I felt like a smurf being embraced by a loving, sexy and
DAY 66: 11 Minutes of Gazing
“Try to act as saints and sages. Let your ego go and let your sainthood prevail. Calamities are nothing but challenges, challenges are nothing but a wakening call to improve our being, and improved being is nothing but God’s own self in us.” -Yogi Bhajan. The last few days have been fraught with one challenge after another, calamity upon calamity, at least as far as I was concerned. My mom ’n pop marijuana delivery service has been undergoing quite a transformation in the last few months. One of the more fundamental changes is that we now have a full staff working with us instead of my partner Josh and I doing everything by ourselves. In the beginning this was a dream come true and brought with it relief and a more free time. As the weeks went on it became more difficult to find reliable drivers and we had speedy turn over in the ranks, expect for a few loyal and capable gems that have done nothing but impress. Trying to get the last few shifts filled was starting to seem impossible, so I started feeling a little bit desperate. Because of my desperation I overlooked it when one of our more flakey drivers, let’s call him The Flake “forgot to show up” for work two weeks ago. I didn’t like it but I figured I’d rather have him work some days than not have him at all. I was desperate after all. Then last week he blew off his shift again. Still my desperation was ruling my decision-making so I wrote an email explaining that he couldn’t do that again or I’d have to let him go. I would rather keep him on, but he would have to start being reliable. Then this past week he didn’t show up for his shift for a third time, without any notice at all. I had warned him to have more respect for the job and those who have to pick up his slack when he does this, but here he was, shirking his responsibilities again. So I finally ignored my desperate fear and followed the tug from my gut; I fired The Flake. It’s funny, as a devoted fan of Melrose Place years ago I spent time when I was young dreaming about what fun it would be to fire someone. I pictured myself, a male version of Heather Locklear, in my power suit, passing out pink slips and one-liners with relish and ease. I was the star, and I had power. But in truth it’s not like that at all. Firing a person is not as pleasant or exciting as old 90’s prime time soap operas would lead you to believe. It feels yucky. I don’t know quite how else to describe it. It wasn’t wrong or bad to fire The Flake, in truth he had to go. But there was no relish, no ease. I only want my business to run smoothly and I would have preferred to have a different outcome where The Flake learned responsibility and we hug and cry and learn and grow, and yadda yadda. But it didn’t happen that way. For the good of the company I had to let him go. It was the right decision as evidenced by the wave of relief that hit me when the deed was done. But it left a mark on my soul that lasted throughout my day. I felt disrespected. I felt used. I didn’t feel powerful and I had no one-liner. Firing The Flake today had actually put my fire out. All I had was my company and my desire to see it succeed, and this guy was flying in the face of that. It’s hard for me to understand how someone could do this after being given an opportunity when they needed it. But I realize I don’t need to understand. His lack of competence has nothing to do with me so why was I taking it so personally? I am relatively new to this whole “being the boss” thing; it presents me with a whole new set of challenges, both in terms of paper work and people work. In this business it’s not like we can take out a craigslist ad. We have to trust the people we hire so we need to work with friends and friends of friends, and I was feeling like we had tapped those resources out. Desperation was seeping back in. I had fired him without any plan for covering the shifts whatsoever. I won’t go so far as to say firing The Flake was in divine order, but it certainly was a relief and it brought more order to my life. I realized I would rather take on the shifts myself than schedule someone and make plans, only to have to break plans when they decide to be a flake. I am not desperate anymore, I am empowered. I began to understand this was the universe’s version of a training camp. I am learning to hone my skills and build a thicker skin. As my success continues to increase, so too will my work force, and I am not going to have the luxury of feeling wounded every time some flake doesn’t do what he is supposed to do. As this new revelation dawned on me the heavy energy I’d been carrying throughout the day began to dissipate. The clouds parted, so to speak, and almost instantaneously a thought flashed through my mind: there were two perfect candidates for the job who I knew from my daily mornings spent writing at Starbucks. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of them before. I fired The Flake because I felt the tug, and I’ve learned to follow those tugs. Almost as if on a schedule the universe went from feeling confusing and desperate to feeling peaceful and sending me ideas. I asked the first of my two new recruits if she was interested in the job. She
DAYS 61-65: 10 Minutes & 10-50 Seconds of Gazing
“Meditation is not sitting with closed eyes. Meditation is: whatever you are doing, you are doing.” —Yogi Bhajan Over the weekend I became an uncle. My niece Charlotte, who we call Charlie, was born on Saturday night after 18 hours of labor. Then on Sunday I celebrated at the Gay Pride Parade in West Hollywood. Gay Uncle Brian, I like the sound of that. I have been steadily gazing either each morning or each night for all the days contained in the tenth minute, except for one due to morning and evening clouds. Each gazing session feels more substantial now, I think because it’s always longer than ten minutes. Ten minutes, a block of time. A chunk of life. A consequential section of my day reserved to gaze at the ball of fire, in direct contradiction to one of our culture’s most deeply held beliefs: looking at the sun can make you blind. While there is no conclusive scientific data to suggest you can go blind from looking at the sun, because it’s so goddamn bright, we don’t question that you can. It’s logical, it would seem, because if you try to stare at the sun at high noon it hurts, a lot. You do feel like you are going to go blind. So this belief has lasted centuries, virtually unchecked. Even the data that suggests it might be unsafe specifically mentions UV light as the main cause for concern. During the first hour after sunrise and the last hour before sunset the UV index is zero which means that in all likelihood it actually is safe to look at it during those times. Whether it can give me super powers like some of the ancient claims suggest remains to be seen. After almost ten weeks of gazing, though, I feel pretty confident saying it’s not harmful to the eyes. I can see better, both the visible world and the invisible world, and both are beautiful, and both are real. As the sunlight continues to cultivate peace inside me, and make tranquility blossom I find myself enjoying the moments of my life more. And not just the big moments, like becoming an uncle, but all moments. I find wisdom as I watch birds. I find joy feeling warm grass on my back. I feel happiness from, in each moment, feeling okay. This is the invisible world mingling with the visible world, creating a cocktail of holy wine which makes me drunk with pleasure. The visible: birds, the invisible: wisdom. The visible: grass, the invisible: joy. This new awareness of my external surroundings brings with it a new awareness of the invisible fortress surrounding my heart. And with awareness comes freedom. As I become aware of my inner walls, so illuminated by sunlight I begin to understand my patterns even more clearly. This awareness transforms behaviors that were once habits into choices. Once you are aware of something you do it becomes a conscious choice. Even if you still continue to do it you can no longer call it habitual, it is chosen. This empowers me to choose something else. This change in my demeanor and my disposition puzzles me. There has always been grass and there have always been birds, so what’s the big deal about ‘em now? The big deal is that I wasn’t present before. Sure, I walked on grass and I knew there were birds, but I didn’t care. My attention was distracted on my personal importance, on the story I tell myself about my own life. What was I going to achieve in life? What was I going to do today? Why can’t I find a lover who challenges my mind, fills my heart, and fires up my groin (not from STD’s but from passion) all at the same time? Now, as the sunlight burns through my inner smoke, I see that jumble of muddled thoughts for what it truly is: imagination, fantasy, invisible. And I start to live again, unbeknownst to even myself at first, in the present moment. I hear birds singing at least twice a day now. They always sang and I usually turned up the volume on my television. Now they sing and they capture me, they speak to me. The sun is the unifying energy hanging high above our planet making everything grow. It is the one thing that all of life has in common. Whether you are a plant or an animal, a flakey employee or a cheating husband, a weather pattern or a thought pattern, it is because of the sun that you are able to be what you are. So as I drink in more sunlight it seems to be tuning me to a common base frequency that all of life shares. I am daily reminded of our oneness again. Through the influence of the solar energy I truly feel the connection again between me and every single other thing in the universe. I seem to have a new and striking rapport with animals. They come to me and seek me out, I think to encourage me to continue on the quest, or maybe they can simply smell the sunlight on me; and they love that smell. My life is becoming a meditation because for the first time in a long time, I am doing what I am doing. I am present. SIDE EFFECTS: None BENEFITS: I am living more mindfully and deliberately in the present moment, with only the tiniest cooperative effort on my part. I am going with the flow, finally, and when you do that you are basically carried down the river of life.
DAY 60: 10 Full Minutes of Gazing – 2 Months Complete
Today I reached another milestone, ten full minutes of gazing. I have officially been doing this for two entire months now so I find myself again looking back and taking an account of my life. Bottom line: it’s better than it was thirty days ago. It’s not better because circumstances have changed. I haven’t been offered a book deal or anything and my collective still skates by with just enough money to make it to next week, but still somehow I know my life is better. I feel better. I finished my early morning chanting today a little after 6:00am so the sun had a thirty minute head start to take her place high above the horizon and shine brightly. But to my surprise she was gentle today. Despite being thirty minutes into sunrise the light emanating from the molten core of our solar system was the most soothing and welcoming I had glimpsed in days. I feel like I just ran a marathon and the gentle sun today was my tall glass of water. I stood side by side with Brett on the little patch of earth surrounding the parking meters on Highland Ave in front of the Golden Bridge Yoga Studio. Traffic was whizzing past us on the street, joggers were whizzing past us on the sidewalk and there was a homeless man near by taking a wiz. But we simply focused our eyes above it all and gazed. This promises to be a very good day, I thought to myself. And I was right. Brett and I had just made the decision yesterday to start a Farmer’s Market in the Golden Bridge parking lot and had a very productive planning meeting, all hopped up on sunlight and caffeine. Then as the day wore on our Farmer’s Market vision transformed into something more along the lines of an indian bazar where there will be artists, and musicians and face painters along with all the organic fruits and vegetables anyone could want. This new vision stoked the flames of my excitement even more. But where were we going to find all the vendors? Later that evening I was scheduled to attend and art opening with my friend Kelly and upon our arrival I noticed it had a section with booths where many local artists where selling their products to the attendees. I collected contact information better than a hoover collects dust. The Indian Bazar was already off to a very good start. My relationship to the Animal Kingdom has also been transformed since the sun-gazing began. On my post-gazing morning hikes with Nikki almost every single dog we pass comes up to me to say hello. Today in the park it was the same way. Birds fly low over my head and hover near by. At one point Nikki and I noticed a moth and starting discussing it’s wing structure and comparing it to a butterfly. In the midst of this it landed on the grass, and with the tiniest grain of sand eyes, stared straight at us. They say a moth is attracted to the flame so I wonder, has the sunlight set me on fire? About two weeks ago I was wandering home from the coffee shop blissfully after writing an entry in the blog and decided on a whim (read: tug from Infinite Intelligence) to make a pit stop in the park two blocks away from my house. I sat down on a bench and took out a book. Then I noticed out of the corner of my eye a tiny young bird and a beautiful golden yellow butterfly playing in a cluster of trees and bushes just a few feet away. The bird was brown with a splash of white on his belly. The butterfly was riddled with black speckles and perfect symmetry in his wings. I am not sure if they were playing with each other or just in proximity to each other, but they were carefree and beautiful. My attention had been captured. Over what must have been thirty minutes I sat transfixed on the dance of colors and shapes and life unfolding before my eyes. My heart was with their hearts. I didn’t know this at the time but I must have been making as much of an impression on them as they were on me…because they followed me home. Once I had regained my faculties I tried to dig into my book. But the words just seemed like senseless black smears on dingy paper compared to the butterfly and the bird. I closed the pages, gave the creatures a last wonder-filled look of farewell and headed home. About a block and half from the park I stop to admire a family of black crows chowing down on something in a patch of grass. I must have startled them because in a rhythmic plume they rise like black smoke and spread out on the telephone wire above. They are safe there. With my eyes tilted toward the sky now I notice for the first time the same tiny bird and the same yellow butterfly hovering overhead. Where they following me? I laugh at myself for the thought because, that’s crazy, right? Who did I think I was, fucking Snow White. I shake this off and amble peacefully back to the house. As I’m rounding the bend toward my mailboxes a butterfly dives down from the sky and flys low past my face. It was him, the same bespeckled butterfly. Instantly I began looking around and right over head the same tiny brown bird hovers. Almost in unison they seem to bid me a fond farewell because they both turn and fly off, seemingly now satisfied that I had made it home safe. The sun has caused the entire universe to rally around me. I click into my place in the universe now like a small but essential cog clicks into a watch. I am a defining particle inside the atom that
DAY 59: 9 Minutes & 50 Seconds of Gazing
I picked Nikki up again this morning after my chanting session and we made our way to the top of the mountain to gaze and hike. My weary legs didn’t want to hike today, but my love handles did. So with love I got a handle on my indecision. Nikki and I made our way to our usual cactus covered temple, gazed at another whiter brighter ball of fire today and then took a hike. As we hiked my skin baked in the sun and I felt alive. We were surrounded by nature even though we were surrounded by the city. The canyon and the early morning hours are both like an oasis from the hurried, scrambled pace of city living. I am not in Los Angeles at those moments, I am in love. In love with life, and every day more and more in love with myself. We hiked slower today because of the cries of our thighs, and at this more measured pace we noticed things. The clouds had formed a thick line above the horizon. It was beautiful. The canyon is blooming with many types of flowers I had never noticed before. There were red ones, white ones, yellow ones. It was a smorgasbord for the senses. This same buffet of beauty was here yesterday but my awareness was not. Awareness, it seems, is the deciding factor between what we experience and what we miss. Kundalini yoga is nicknamed “the yoga of awareness” because the exercises and techniques are all designed to produce a mental state that is more peaceful and receptive, able to appreciate the details as well as the broad strokes. I accompanied my friends Nikki and Kelly to look at a property they were thinking about renting. The house was currently occupied by two special effects artists so there were many unique details to feast my senses on. They had a green room in their garage so they can make videos in front of that screen and make it seems as if they are anywhere. They have a masked mannequin in their shower stall that scared the crap out of both Nikki and myself as we toured their home. A wall in their hallway was fur covered, and fascinating. Amidst all of this unique odd-ball creativity one particular detail jumped out at me most. In one of the bedrooms there were bull horns mounted on the wall. Jammed into one of the antlers was an empty box of Hungry Man TV Dinner. As I processed what I was looking at I felt this internal tug that said, look again, there’s more. I am sensing those tugs more clearly and more often since sun-gazing began and when I follow them I am always amazed in some way, so I did a double take. Suddenly the message was clear. The universe was telling me to take the bull by the horns and stope eating food that isn’t good for me, to stop being such a hungry man, and p.s. stop watching so much television. The Hungry Man TV Dinner jammed on Bull Horn art had served it’s purpose, I got the message. So now, I figured, he could take that god awful thing off his wall. Over the last few days I had been literally bingeing on TV and tasty treats . I don’t usually do that anymore, it was a resurgence of a past habit that I just embraced last week. Four days and twenty episodes of Arrow later the universe was chiming in. I don’t need to binge on the things I enjoy anymore, I can enjoy them from my new place of awareness. Hmm, I wasn’t aware of that before, that actually sounds nice. But as happens with habits the afternoon turned into the evening and I turned on the TV. I had two more episodes of the season left and I wasn’t going to let some off the wall message from the universe that had been mounted on a wall get in the way of my season finale. The universe always has to have it’s way though. Every link I tried to access would freeze or time out. Finally the links started popping up with a message that I wasn’t connected to the internet. I try youtube and that’s working just fine. So I try my links again, no internet. So I try youtube, internet is working in full force. I try again: links, no; youtube, yes. What the fuck was happening? Then I remembered the bull horns and I thought bullshit. I want to watch Arrow. But the Universe had spoken. In a bit of a huff and against my will I turned my attention to youtube. As I browsed I found many exciting links and videos about sun gazing. Within minutes I was fully absorbed in my explorations on youtube and even started posting comments on some of them, which if you know me, is something I never do. I don’t even have Facebook. I went to sleep feeling blissful from all the new information I had been absorbing. I didn’t need to watch Arrow because I had been shot with cupid’s arrow to reawaken my love for my research into this practice. When I woke up, on a whim I typed “sun gazing” into google and to my amazement one of my comments on one of the videos was the second listing in the search results. How was that possible? It wasn’t even an actual video, it was just a comment. And it was only posted fourteen hours ago. As giddiness over takes me because of the exposure this could mean for the blog, I already know how it happened. I followed a tug from the universe, although not willingly at first, and my subsequent actions had been blessed. Them’s the rules, folks. I didn’t make ‘em, but I’m sure glad I’m learning them now. When the universe tugs at me now, whether from bad art or Mozart,
