one love, one god

Meditating at the minaret at Ibn Tulin Mosque in Cairo, Egypt.

In Japan, I quietly walked up and down a Shinto mountain God barefoot, in thoughtful meditation. In Egypt, I chanted with ecstasy and enthusiasm to Allah in a Sufi zikr. Last night I went to simbang gabi ("evening mass", which is Christmas tradition among the Catholics here in the Philippines).

As I sang wholeheartedly the familiar “Kordero ng Diyos”, “Lamb of God”, I wondered whether my fellow churchgoers would consider me an infidel for being so very liberal in the ways I choose to worship the Divine. I know that I don’t see myself as such. Rather, I feel that along with the world opening up the way it has over the years--with the yoga practice and the travel that has magically come with it--so has my view of that which is absolute and complete.

La Sagrada Familia, Barcelona.

I find that wherever I go, true devotees have the same kind of heart no matter what form, formlessness, or format they resonate with. And the rest, well, we have the same struggles--the same struggles of lack, of faith, of littleness and of separation. That somehow each version of God is a reflection of the culture that seeks to understand it. And while there is something to be said about how we create the God or Gods that we value, I continue to believe that the Divine is Everywhere, Everything, call It what you will, worship wherever it works for you. There is no limiting the unlimited, there is no naming that which goes beyond words.

Shinto moss shrine in Kyoto, Japan. 

In the New Year, I will be landing in India and there my acts of devotion will transform into sun salutations, pujas, and mantras. I will be bowing to a dynamic set of representations of the Divine, blue-faced Gods, many-armed Goddesses, magical beasts. Moreover, I would like to be more liberal, more open, I would like to make a practice of seeing the Divine in all people, in all things. I’d like to love the people I find most difficult. I’d like to look upon strangers as brothers and sisters. I’d like to treat the the land, the world we live in, the planet at large as sacred—because it really is. 

One love, one God.

indelible ink

Sutra 23, Samadhi Pada, Yoga Sutras.

Light-handed Jake from P&P Tattoo, Polaris St, Makati, Manila.

Some commitments are not to be taken lightly. And there are none more important than the ones we make with ourselves.

Last week, before I left Manila for India, I decided to get inked. Not my first, though I may not seem the type.

Each time I have been to the needle has been a special rite of passage, a ritual marking a special time of my life, a reaffirmation of the values that I personally hold dear. I had my first done right after I graduated from college at Berkeley, a dragon which is my birth year according to the Chinese calendar. Not too thought out, but I was young and the intention was there.

In my early adulthood, I had "one love" tattooed in alibata, an old Filipino alphabet. Work-wise, I had been through a difficult trial, my personal values had been challenged and my self-belief was shaken. I wanted to remind myself of what is now the spirit of this blog, that there is this amazing universal love that exists everywhere, constant, nourishing, and that I am, like everyone, a part of this infinite love.

When I was in the US this summer, amidst life's chaotic whirlwind, it occurred to me that not only was I ready for my next inking, but I knew exactly what I wanted to have emblazoned on my skin.

I was in a tough spot a couple of months ago. Everything appeared to be spiraling out of my control. I could have fought or given myself up to despair. Neither options appealed much. I felt lost and ignorant. I didn't know how to solve the intricate beatings/yearnings of my mind and heart. So I leaned on love and surrendered to the forces that are beyond my limited understanding, believing only that there had to be a greater plan than all this pain and suffering.

Returning to the Philippines, feeling more grounded and more clear, I resolved to make that commitment permanent by having it inked in a place that for me symbolized suffering and dying. I had suffered, but I had also grown from it. Something in me had died. And I think I had to go through that. New beginnings come after endings. We die, we are reborn.

So, in Sanskrit, burning still on my side is line 23 from the first chapter of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. "Ishvarapranidhanadva." To me it means my surrender to the Supreme, in whatever form He/She/It decides to take.

I surrender to God.

To write it. To feel it. To see it. I can't help but feel this intense connection with myself and the world around me. I fill with love, with goodness, with infinite possibility.

love thought

Love is like God. You have to believe in it to make it happen. You have to have faith.