For the first two weeks of March, I found myself in Spain with two of my previous Euro-traveling companions Bryan and Cody. The trip fell into my lap just like my last journey to the Mediterranean Coast. It was spur of the moment and unexpected. I was planning a trip to Granada by myself for the end of this year, but I ended up postponing the trip because of my likely attendance at graduate school this coming fall.
Three weeks after this choice to delay my trip, my friend Bryan calls inviting me to visit our friend Cody abroad in Spain. The month of March was free for me and the recent graduation money was the perfect income source. So, I jumped on board and the trip was set within the following week.
My main desire to travel to Spain was to see the city of Granada. Particularly, my truest desire was to visit and walk the Alhambra. I suppose the instigator of this trip is the 12th century Sufi poet Jelaluddin Rumi . His poems (via translations courtesy of Coleman Barks) brought about a spring awakening within myself a year ago. The arrival of his words cued an opening of the heart experience. Brought forth into my consciousness was a dormant compassion or divine longing. Ever since that moment I have turned to writing poetry more and more, circling back to that beloved Rumi has spun with so many times. That you in all.
Last August I learned of the city Granada and the palace of the Alhambra. Upon seeing the structure of the Alhambra on TV, I felt the same drawing in, the same invitation to that inner divine I hear in the poetry of Rumi. The extravagant tile work of the ancient Muslim craftsmen spoke to me in a similar fashion as Rumi’s spontaneous recorded word. I needed to see it for myself. Learning about the Alhambra was call to come closer into the center majesty, so similar to that herald Rumi sent me across centuries last year.
— A Walk Through The Garden
We arrived in Granada just at the start of spring in Southern Spain. The cyprus trees were still full, strong, and straight as they have been all year long. Flowers were blooming and the fresh spring water in the valley was trickling bellow the Alhambra. The palace itself is situated on the end peak of a mountain range. To either side of it are valleys carving out landscapes for caves and creeks. Facing the Alhambra’s farthest point on the cliff edge is an open vista free of any other mountains for miles. This is where the larger and more modern city of Granada resides.
The focus of this post is to reflect on that experience of walking through the Alhambra, so I will begin at the entrance and a poem by Rumi which I think captures the moment of going in on that spiritual plane.
Nothing can help me but that beauty.
There was a dawn I remember
Were my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank the water
from your spring and felt
the current take me.
— Rumi (Barks Translation)
Entering the palace, along with arriving in Granada, felt like a coming home. It was union with a presence I have know before. As I mentioned, the tile work and craftsmanship is precisely calculated to geometrically exemplify the divine nature of the beloved. The style known as arabesque consists of mathematical patterns in devotion to God as seen in nature. Each shape has a symbolic connection to the divine. Squares represent the four elements and circles signify the completion of the earth.
While walking through and seeing the repetition of the patterns it is clear that there is a circling in, similar to that of a spinning dervish lost in the sublime. And that is what the entire walk was for me. It was a walk through the sublime. It is the closest I have ever been physically walking around inside the inner palace, that true kingdom within.
The walls consisted of intricate carvings. The courtyards opened wide with fountains and bodies of water. At from there center,water trickled out through gutters carved on the floor. Pillars supported the roof in symmetrical patterns. Looking up at the ceilings inside revealed hallowed chambers digging up to unseen empty center.
I walked in with a camera. I took a picture of the entrance and never picked it up again during the walk inside. I felt compelled to walk so slow, so gently atop the white marble floor. The halls invited me into the presence, into the silence of a mindful and patient walk. The discourse and communion were written on the walls as the are written inside mystic poetry.
The feeling of this walk within this palace is most appropriately capture in my poetry. So, I’ll leave you with a few pieces of my writing about that experience written shortly after its occurrence.
I am here barely walking
empty now, in the same
spirit as the hallowed ceiling
chambers, there I am crafted,
the center of which is hardly seen.
—-
I have been here, and still am,
since this kingdom first sat on the hill
spilling over its cliff-edge
in discourse and mathematical communion.
—-
I am home now.
This castle has called.
I respond with
silence and a soft
gentle walk into the divine
blossom of which I am.
I am glad to have journeyed to such an inspirational palace. I would gladly spend more time in Granada so long as I have acquainted myself more with the Spanish language. Even if the Alhambra never existed on that hill top in Granada, happily I would go back for some more free tapas.
—Thanks for reading.—
References:
Coleman, B. (2004) The Essential Rumi: New Expended Edition. New York: Harper Colloins Publisher.
(Photos and other poetry are my own work)
The undergrad experience is finished. I stand now in a very good place. I have the opportunity of coming back home to live with my parents this winter and celebrate some of the season with friends, family, and of course snowboarding. I am making plans now for the coming year. Travel and volunteering is my next step. But before stepping through the mirror of the past four years, I would like to take a moment to look in reflection. These years have been so much more than a college experience. It taught me how to meet with what the moment brings. Open, unattached, accepting.
— Travel —
Italy Two years ago, I bumped into a new friend while hiking on the Appalachian Trail. We meet through a mutual friend on this hiking and camping trip during spring break. We had a great time on the trail; two weeks later he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. “Me, my brother, and my friend from VA are in need of a fourth member for a trip… a trip to Italy. Our other friend just backed out after months of planning. Are you in?” I was so in. Two months later I was on a plan across the Atlantic. A layover in Dusseldorf for 22 hours followed by a connecting flight to Rome was the road ahead.
3 Friends+Beer+Eurotrip=Fun
This trip all started because a friend was open enough to ask and I was open enough to accept an unexpected, unplanned adventure. I was 19. It was my first time out of the country. We were backpacking for 4 weeks. A new world was on the way. We started in Rome, and traveled much of the country. Sienna, Florence, Venice, Amalfi, Pescara, Cinque Terre… Two weeks in, we had the backpacking method down much to the thanks of my friend Bryan’s exceptional planning (center of photo above).
There are so many tales and memories, but I will talk about the one that I most remember. We were hiking the five cities of Cinque Terre on the northwestern coast of Italy bellow Genoa. We had just left from Sienna if I remember correctly. I wasn’t feeling well because of some allergy issues in Sienna. Luckily by the time we arrived at the first city we were to hike, I was able to muster up enough placebo by savoring the view of the Italian coast. We meet two Australian boys, James and Shaun. They were brothers. Shaun just graduated high school and was visiting his brother James who was going to grad school in Madrid. I asked them if they wanted to join us for the rest of hike and they were happy to journey with us. It was a special moment to meet new friends from across the world, all of us so far from home. The definitive barriers that contain “home” were revealed to me as an illusion that moment. Go open and you welcome the world and new friends within your own hearth. We hiked, shared the path and a view. My favorite part of this journey with our new mates was how it ended. No Facebook. No email. No number. Just a wish for a happy trail. We were heading north and had to catch a train. The Aussie boys stuck around in the last town to watch a bocce ball match being played by some old locals.
Later boys
Honduras
At the beginning of 2013, instead of heading to the Mediterranean I was on my over the Gulf to Honduras. I was heading down south with a group of 30 students from Towson. We were all a part of the student group Students Helping Honduras. Many of us were heading closer towards the equator for the first time in our lives. As a group, we fundraise for our personal trip during the fall semester. Come winter break we fly to Honduras to build schools, girl’s and boy’s homes, houses, libraries etc. After the trip, we take the entire spring semester to fundraise for a specific project. The funds we raise go directly to the creation, staffing, and maintenance of the project. In the past our group has raised money for a bilingual school, girls and boys home, and a library. These are not small projects. Our group at Towson has raised $50,000-$20,000 depending on the semester for these projects in previous years. It is all done in the hopes of empowering the children of Honduras through sustainable community and educational development.
The first thing that took me away was the beauty of the country and the warmth of its people. Honduras is a very interesting and complex state. The constant shooting green mountains and floral landscape contrast heavily with obvious corporate intrusion (DRINK COKE) painted on the side of bridges and houses. But most of all, Honduras is home to the highest homicide rate in the world as a result of gang violence within a struggling state. There was a strange mixture of beauty, simplicity, suffering, and poverty.
A rose opens behind barbed wire.
A very special human experience happened on this trip. It occurred at an orphanage we visited close to San Pedro Sula. Like many of the volunteers on this trip, the visit to this state run orphanage brought the reality of poverty and neglect before my eyes, within my heart. Children with mental disabilities were strapped in beds. Infants cried out in need of love, of stimulation. There was only a handful of house mothers tending to a hundred children.
The entire visit, I noticed an older girl in the orphanage quietly shadowing all the volunteers. She was 13. Her name was Esperanza. Volunteers would ask her questions about the orphanage and she would truthfully answer. This young girl was strong. You could see it in the way she stood back and watched the volunteers become overwhelmed by her everyday experience. Somehow, she radiated spirit within the confines of rough concrete walls. We made our way outside to a small play area surrounded by tall walls built into the side of large rock. Esperanza and I kicked a soccer ball around the small play space. She laughed free in spirit with such heart glow. Her will and integrity reached well over the enclosure around her. I swear for a second I saw her towering over those white barricades. We shared as many laughs as we could sing in that moment.
On our way back to the bus after many goodbyes with the kids, I found myself behind the volunteer group gazing back behind at the barriers I could so freely leave. I stood with my back to the open gate still standing in the orphanage before turning towards the bus. To my left and around the corner came Esperanza. She stood with such presence before me at half my height. I was far from matching the strength she stood with right there in front of me. She gently came to my side. I bent down and hugged her tight. I spoke no Spanish at the time, so I couldn’t tell her I love her. Luckily such love is only hinted at by words. After hugging, I reached my arms out with my hands on her shoulders. I was level with her and looked into her eyes. This is where words simply don’t do the moment, true heart, justice. But I will try. In that moment I saw soul. I saw infinite potential. I saw warm brown eyes blossoming the same way roses do in the spring. The soul I saw was of no 13 year old. It was a soul of courage daring enough to rise up, like a thorny rose weaving above barbed wire fence.
Scotland
Almost a year later, my family and I took a plane back to the motherland: Scotland. We left right before Christmas and spent two weeks together connecting to the roots of our ancestors. We enjoyed live panto in London and Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh. We looked upon the deep Loch Ness waters and red moss of the Cairngorms. Our family name Abernathy (originally Abernethy) comes directly from northern Scotland close to a small town called Aviemore. We took a day tip from Inverness to investigate this small area and it’s physical link to our bloodline. We found our way to a small church and cemetery south of Aviemore in search of an ancestor’s grave. To the west of the cemetery the snow draped Carnigorms stood stoic with red moss soft atop its rocky roots. I climbed over the cemetery wall to get a better look. Under the mountain range a small loch sat silent just like the cool winter air. A hill extended down in front of me to the shore of the water. It was lined with leafless conifers covered in mint green lichen. As I stood on the hill, a very grounding sensation traveled from my feet to the top of my skull. I felt just as rooted as the pine tree to my left, as the mountain in front of me. I felt my ancestors in my every heartbeat. I owe my every breath to those who came before. I was home where I stood. Ever since then I carry home in my skin.
The Motherland
— Academia —
I am very happy to have graduated with my BS in Psychology. I have much love for the science and philosophy this field of study has provided the world. I’ll take some time here to tell of personal fascinations I bring with me into the future. I have a few contrasting loves within the field: neuroscience/physiopsychology, developmental psychology, and transpersonal psychology.
Biopsychology
I’ll never forget the moment I was sitting phyisopsych when I learned about the dendritic connections within one nerve cell. During this class, we were learning about the minimum mV required for a single neuron to fire an electrical impulse. Excitation of a single neuron is stimulated by the release of neurotransmitters, molecular chemical compounds, from other surrounding neurons. These neurotransmitters then bind to the neuron and change its mV. One microscopic neuron is “connected” to over 10,000 other neurons within the brain via this exchange of neurotransmitters. The combined influence of these thousands of neurons results in the excitation and change in mV for one single neuron to fire. This electrical impulse, or action potential, then travels down to the terminal button at the end of the neuron. From here, a neurotransmitter is released on to another neuron’s tiny dendrite.
10,000 neurons. It seems Buddhist understood the significance of this number. From a human perspective this number gives a tangible image of what is infinite within the realm of our worldly senses. I suppose that is why I was astonished to learn of this vast connection. While 10,000 is large number of tiny synaptic gaps, I was still able to visualize what that tiny universe might look like. To me it is a beautiful world.
Developmental Psychology
A gentleman by the name of Erik Erickson, born in 1902, made beautiful contributions to the psychological community when it came to human development. As a young man, he meet with adversity from peers in school and was frequently out cast. His schooling was sporadic; he was far from an astonishing student. Eventually he begin traveling throughout Europe as an Artist which lead him to a chance encounter with Sigmund Freud’s daughter, Anna Freud. Under her supervision, he gained psychoanalytic training which lunched him into a world of psychological interest.
Over my years of study, I have taken to Erickson’s psychosocial stages of development because of the simple balance each stage provides for understanding how humans grow into being. There is a balance of energy at play within each stage. One way encourages personal worth and potential. The other way sets limits or confines a human from maximizing potential. For example, his first stage trust vs. mistrust indicates that an infant yearns to have its basic needs meet. If the child is provided basic needs, love, and stimulation, it will learn to trust the surrounding environment.
It was after analyzing my own human development through these stages that I saw how powerful his theory is at encouraging human growth. What I have learned is that any crisis that may have occurred in my past can be resolved. I can’t go back in time, but I can go back to those experiences and establish acceptance, balance, and peace.
Transpersonal Psychology This field of psychology resonates with many of my current interests. I am fascinated with Far Eastern Traditions. Hindu, Buddhist, and Tao school of thought is concerned with what is rudimentary for the western science of psychology. Consciousness and an understanding of the mind is the perfect meeting ground for these two perspectives. Transpersonal psychology delves into ultimate questions all humans share. Is there consciousness after death? What is the soul? How can we cultivate happiness and reduce suffering in life? It integrates mind-body practices for counseling that range from art therapy, wilderness therapy, and to even somatic therapy.
The far eastern traditions are a great resource for these questions and techniques. Meditation practice is now common place in the psychology community and mindfulness practices are becoming more accepted in western society. I want to learn about this sub field of psychology and I will not be at all surprised to see myself in a graduate setting learning more about it.
— Poetry —
Poetry has a beautiful way of hinting at the nature of life. It plays strings in celebration of what is silent. How can a word tell of silence? It is like a brush stroke circling around the sublime. It never quite touches the source, the divine. But it doesn’t have too. Poetry invites us all into the human experience.
Last spring, my heart was opened to a pervasive compassion. It stretched out from the center of the 12th century Sufi poet, Rumi. It echoed out from Coleman Barks, his translator. It went singing in my ear and sailed into my heart.
What was said to the rose
That made it open
Was said to me
Here in my chest
This quatrain of poetry brought a presence of light that stirred in the center of my chest. I was struck by an all-encompassing experience, comparable to a first breath of a child. I wept, like one too. Not out of pain, but sheer bliss. What I had just heard vibrated in unison with an aesthetic truth at the center of my being. That moment, I woke up to the wonder of poetry and its ability to share orbs of experience.
For the past year I have been moved by the natural expression of poetry. It is something that I don’t have to try to do. It flows naturally like walking, like breathing. And for much of this past year, I would consider Rumi my greatest teacher. He has shown me how to create my own myth. Coleman Barks has been the conduit of this apprenticeship for which he has my gratitude. I offer these gentleman a deep bow. They sparked a love for poetry, a love for expression, a love for a movement of energy.
— Meditation —
My practice with meditation began a bit more than two years ago. My interest in Buddhism was my first conduit into the practice, followed by yoga. The main reason I began to mediate was to establish a better understanding of my own consciousness.
For many years I had felt overwhelmed by this phenomena of existence. I remember when I was 12 years old, I awoke to just how vast our physical reality seems. I was walking through the Air and Space Museum with my father in D.C. enjoying a warm summer day of travel. Inside the museum we were greeted by one of the space capsules that journeyed out of our earth’s atmosphere to the moon. I looked upon this tiny capsule and realized that it traveled into a supreme and vast darkness. It was as if a light switch turned on in my head. Suddenly the earth I was standing on had little direction and no bearing in this void. It felt as if I was falling out of the sky. Leaving the museum I couldn’t bear to look up towards the clouds. The weight of the universe came crushing on top of me and I felt completely adrift in empty space.
I was overwhelmed by this new perspective of the universe. It was a fear of helplessness. It was as if my consciousness slapped me in the face, awake. You could say it was my first ever “panic attack”. At least I went all out for my first time around.
Meditation was the practice that brought me back down to earth, so to speak (yoga taught me how to breathe). This simple, patient practice has turned my once greatest fear into a curious interest. I gaze at the stars now. I lay down and look at the clouds. My place is here where I stand. I don’t see myself separate from this vastness anymore. It flows through me, quietly on winds of grace.
The simple act of sitting down and breathing has brought me peace in regards to my place in the universe. Mindfulness practices focusing on breath has taught me how to direct my attention and accept particular thoughts, feelings, and sensations. Meditations of compassion have revealed within me a pervasive light, shared by all beings. The love I have for myself is the same love I have for a friend, a stranger, an enemy. Conditions fall away and a gentle warmth permeates.
This practice has transitioned from a means to calm anxieties to a method for grounding in the present moment. I trust my breath. I am breathing. I allow these thoughts to rise and fall from the periphery of my mind. I let them pass by like clouds to moving through the sky. I am breathing.
The more I practice, the more I learn how to let go. I learn how to accept life and death. I learn how to simply be present to what the moment brings. Some days it is no more than a breath or a heartbeat. To listen to a heartbeat is a precious gift.
An important aspect of my being that mediation has revealed to me is the fear of loss. Each practice has brought me closer to this feeling in some way. As this fear has surfaced, I have learned how to sit with it. I let it move like the waves of the ocean. With this acceptance, the fear has slowly diminished. I feel free to celebrate life and move naturally from my center, as my own being.
My meditation is continuing to evolve and grow. It is a rich experience that I am extremely grateful to have discovered in my life. It is a practice of life. I look forward to furthering this practice. Peace lies in this moment.
— Yoga —
I started practicing vinyasa yoga about two years ago. There was an instant connection there for me on the mat like so many others have felt. As clique as the term mind-body is nowadays, this connection that yoga creates drew me into the asana practice. The practice of yoga is meant to draw in the senses and “yoke” the mind and body to oneness. The purpose is to still the mind through a series of mindful postures.
Yoga is a precious gift. I have gratitude for this ancient tradition that has made its way to the west. I have learned so much about myself and have discovered new ways of being that reflect on and off the mat. Ujjayi breath keeps me warm when it is cold out. That I am thankful for, especially during this winter arctic blast.
My practice has adapted so much the past few years as I have settled into a flow that fits best with me. Yoga is not something I have to do. It is something I let happen naturally, just like my breath and poetry.
To draw my senses in, to be home in my breath, to be present in a posture is to be alive. It is the same experience as being open to what the moment brings. Sometimes discomfort arises in a hip opening posture. Other times deep relaxation occurs in forward fold. Other times still, pure vital energy moves in sun salutation. Freshness. This is life. Feelings, postures, situations move in dependent arising. I am present to what the moment has to offer.
—
So I take a breath and step beyond the mirror. I like what I see. Coming back home after graduation is a great jumping board for my future. I am free here to discover my next step, wherever that may take me. I see clearly what endeavors cultivate happiness in my life. Yoga, meditation, and psychology are easy interests for me. I think where these loves center is where I will be going next. The best way I can be of service to this world is what I will do. The most important thing I think we can all do is try to share our gifts with the world, however simple they may be.
A wonderful thing I have noticed these past few weeks since graduation is my tendency to rush, to feel like I am not doing enough with my life. I imagine this is common place for many young adults and adults to feel this way. I realize that I have felt guilty or deficient for not having a definitive job or destination for my future. This guilt has moved me to panic in search of what it is I need to do. All I need is here.
My father gave me some beautiful advice concerning this tendency. “Well son, maybe you don’t have to figure it all out right now. I am not even sure what figuring it out means. Maybe it is as simple as graduating and taking the next step from there.” Just a reminder that many times we create our own suffering. I let that go. I smile.
I am now getting used to a new habit of trusting myself and moving naturally. Rumi says it best —
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.
So I carry that truth in my heart, go and grow. I end this entry with some words from the Tao Te Ching. They offer a particular wisdom for where I am and how I choose to live.
Rushing into action, you will fail.
Trying to grasp things, you lose them.
Forcing a project to completion,
you ruin what was almost ripe.
Therefore the Master takes action
by letting things take their course.
He remains as calm
at the end as at the beginning.
He has nothing,
thus has nothing to lose.
My gratitude extends to all the family, all the friends, all the professors, and all of the communities that have raised me up in support the past few years. This graduation would not be possible without the help of my father, my mother, my brother, many good friends, and a few good strangers. You all have my love. That’s all I have to say for now. Thanks for reading.
—————————————————————————————————————————————-
References for this entry:
Mitchell, S. (1988) Tao Te Ching: An Illustrated Journey. London: Frances Lincoln Limited.
Coleman, B. (2004) The Essential Rumi: New Expended Edition. New York: HarperColloins Publisher.
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