spirituality goes funky

on my eye -- iuliana daniela varodi -- Wed 6 Jan 2010

In a chaotic room, a woman is sleeping on a mattress on the floor. In her dream, she seem to be desperately seeking a connection with something opposite to her known world. In a greedy, neurotic way, she explores a system of knowledge and spirituality she can�t penetrate, while anxiously refusing, rejecting the surrounding world. Her connections to both these worlds are reduced to websites, email, a book, an answering machine, objects of ritual and decoration. The way she deals with her body, the things around and with her aspirations, depicts a fragmentation of her (self)awareness, in strong contrast with the unity she seems to be seeking.

Merely awake, wrapped in a sheet, I zomby-walk to the bathroom. I listen to the sound of my body, the sound of water flushing the toilet, the sound of brushing teeth. Back in the room, I turn in circles around the mattress, I light an incense stick and place it in the flower pot next the window. I start stretching parts of the body in clumsy movements, while humming some mantras. I move closer to the mirror, critically watching my breast, my belly, my buttocks. Amazing, he said last night, cautiously exploring them with attentive fingers. I stare at my teeth and check pimples on my face, on a shoulder. I look at both my eyes, each one separately, I pull faces at the mirror.

I move away, sit at the desk, open the laptop and check my horoscope, my mail, the news, the weather.

I stand up, unfold a yoga mat on the floor and for a while I try to do some yoga postures, following some examples that I find on yogatoday.com

I give up in about ten minutes, pick up the walking in circles through the room again, wandering what to do. I take a glass of water, some pills (many), drops of �Les Fleurs de Bach� then take the book laying next to the mattress, �I am That� by Nisargadatta. I read up some random paragraph from this book.

I go back to the desk, the laptopp; on google and youtube, I find some fragments with Eckhart Tolle speaking about the divine and the conflicts between the ego and the soul. I listen. Clicking around I get on all kind of spiritual speaches by other contemporary gurus. I listen carefully.

Again I start walking around in circles. I stumble into some red shoes with high heels. I pick up one and stare at it. I caress it with a smile, drop it, then start searching through the clothes on the floor. I pick up and throw away pieces. I take off my pyjama and put on a string, then black panties, then another red shiny string on top. My gestures are meant to be sensual but appear rather ridiculous. I pick up a red dress, very open and tide, I put it on.

I walk to the desk again, this time I stand close to it. I play some psychedelic trance music, from mysepace.com, quite loud. I grab some make-up stuff from the table.

I walk to the mirror. I apply red lipstick, very red, thick mascara and I do something with my hair. Not good. I put on a funky wig. I keep watching myself in the mirror and adjust my look, my make-up.

I unroll a tiny red carpet from one corner of the room to the other. I start to catwalk on it, trying to follow the music beat, humming �I am That� and some other Sanskrit mantras. At times I stop and pour a glass of champagne, I take sips. On the walls, kitschy images of Indian Gods seem to be lurking at the scene. With incense sticks in a hand, I draw circles in the air, while I keep catwalking from one corner to the other of the room, on the red carpet, saying mantras and taking sips from the glass of champagne. I sudently stop as if for an instant something else catches my attention. I start running around the room and push the objects from the table all around. I throw Nisargadatta's book on the floor. I stumble on the electricity cable and I fall. Sound and lights shoot off.

I start crying, loud, pathetically. I violently reap off the clothes, the shoes, the wig. Naked, I keep crying on the floor in the dark. The cry slowly becomes laughing, a hysteric laughing. The phone rings, I let the answering machine deal with it. A woman voice: �Hello honey, mum here. I am calling to see if how do like your new high hills? Well... we�ll be expecting you for dinner at 8 tomorrow. Aunt Leela confirmed as well so we�ll be the whole family for this Easter, isn�t that lovely? Kissing you sweetie, take care!�

react to this news item : login or subscribe

Advanced Performance Training

a.pt news

a.pt tools

a.pt contact info

page tools

jump ahead

a.pt partners

spirituality goes funky