sweep-the-spine

Sweeping Breath- Dr. Seuss Style (Siva Sutra 1.2 jnānam bandhaḥ)

sweep-the-spineBondage and ignorance and limitation!
Oh my!
We contract like a sneeze~
You want to know why?

These are the roots of our issues,
You see~
Unworthiness, insecurity, feeling un-free.

These deep darkened roots,
known as Anava Mala,
cloak our awareness
like pollen all upon ‘ya.

This pollen of unworthiness
Helps us forget~
How miraculous we are~
We recoil ~we regret.

We regret and we doubt.
We feel separate and small.
Our pimples and frizzes
Keep us enthralled.

How, do we, how do we
How DO we re-remember?
Our goodness, our freedom
From here to September?

Good question, my dear!
So at your request~
I’ll teach you the tools
To elevate your quest!

Your breath is the broom
that sweeps away pollen,
Shines light on the ignorance
Which is hidden and smallen.

Sit tall, close your eyes,
sweep-the-spineTune into your spine.
Inhale your breath
Down the left side line.

Sweep your breath out~
On the same side,
From bottom to top~
Deep inside.

Sweep your breath in,
Down the right side this time.
Get real close and real low~
To release dust and grime.

Sweep your breath out~
From bottom to top.
Keep sweeping your spine~
No reason to stop!

No reason to stop~
Till you feel lighter and free!
Relieved of unworthy
Pollen and debris.

The pollen of ignorance~
And debris of limitation~
Can be swept to the surface
For expansive illumination.

Each time we remember,
We grow and expand~
We become more real.
And that is quite grand!.

Seuss Sutra 1-1: Big Picture Play of Consciousness

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    horse

    The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

    “What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

    “Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

    “Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

    “Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

    “Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

    “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

    “I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

    But the Skin Horse only smiled

    –  From the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams  –

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