There have been two places in my life where I've felt "home". One is Boulder, Colorado and the other is Maui, Hawaii. I've only lived on Maui for two and a half years but I can honestly say that it calls on and nurtures my soul like no other place I've ever been to.
But the funny thing is that it's not because of it's beautiful beaches, perfect temperature and gentle breezes. It's not because of the great tasting healthy food, the welcoming vibe and diverse culture. It's also not because of the amazing snorkeling, ocean activities or hiking. It's not even because of it's awesome yoga classes and unsurpassed sunsets! Its because Maui is alive! That's right! Because the "life force" or "mana" (as they call it here on Maui) is rich, vibrant and alive, breathing inspiration, health and well-being into everyone and everything that lives here. The "mana" surrounds these islands and ocean like a blanket of loving creative life energy. I also like to refer to is as "The Aloha".
The word "Aloha" is NOT the Hawaiian way of saying "Hello" or "Good-bye" or "Fare-Well" which is how the average dictionary defines it. If you talk to some of the local Hawaiians or to my friend, Richard DeLeon, Hawaiian Kahuna, Herbalist (direct descendent of the last Hawaiian King Kamehameha), he'll tell you that Aloha means "unconditional love" or "the common breath of life that we all share". Aloha is an energy field that pervades these amazingly beautiful islands. When I first moved here I quickly started to draw the distinction of whether I was being "in" the Aloha or "outside of" the Aloha. Being "outside" of the Aloha felt like I was a separate individual going about my day fulfilling my personal needs, goals and desires. Probably how most of us relate to life on a daily basis. Being "in" the Aloha feels like moving with and through an energy field that connects all of us together in an environment of mutual awareness, interdependency and support. Life is a vital network of energies and beings, connected and pulsating within a common reality and experience. And as you can imagine, the difference of experience of being "in" and "outside" of the Aloha, is NOT subtle.
"Aloha" is NOT a concept created in the minds of the first Hawaiians a thousand years ago. "Aloha" is a very palpable, tangible experience that is available to everyone that spends time in Hawaii. In my experience it is an energy that not only exists, but thrives, transforms and heals on these islands. It is akin to "the force" or to "grace". And again, it is NOT subtle. It feels like being very present. It feels like being loved by nature and being connected to and part of the environment. The air takes on a quality of thickness and substance where you feel it connecting you by it's touch to the distant hills and the clouds. The water takes on the attributes of silk and softness and becomes even more "alive". It is the experience of being part of something greater than ourselves and transcendent of our separate egos. And if you're already good at doing that, then being on Maui just fuels the fire that much more and invites in an even greater opportunity to take you on a journey you've never had before. Beyond your imagination. It almost sounds too good to be true, right? Almost unbelievable, right? Well it IS unbelievable. Even inconceivable . . . by the mind!
I think that at one time the energy known here as "the Aloha" existed everywhere on the planet. People tell me "well of course you like hanging out in paradise". And yes, this IS paradise. But the whole world was once paradise. I feel that this is what life was meant to be like. Like "paradise". And the more we built square houses, and power lines and highways and polluted the skies and waters . . . the less paradise it became. And as we undermine, obstruct and pollute "the natural world" not only do we "harm the environment", but we also dampen the presence of the energy that I'm talking about and numb our abilities to experience the "force" or "mana" of nature. Of "our" nature. On Maui, the Natural world is still the predominant force and presence here. And there are less and less places on the planet that you can say that about. The skies are clear, the waters clean, the sealife is vibrant and healthy and the land is fertile and bountiful. The recent volcanoes here still vibrate with the primal raw life force of creation. And, for the most part, the people that live here know and respect the fact that there is no separation between the well-being, health and vitality of humanity and of Mother Earth. We are one.
I've created a yearly Maui Event. It's about my desire to share the experience that has truly changed my life in many ways. I've designed this Maui Event to support and nurture you from all sides while addressing all of your senses. Starting with your luxury accommodations at the elegant Four Seasons Resort. To beginning your day right with some quality time with your Self. You can choose from a little morning yoga on the beach or a leisurely stroll or Jacuzzi; followed by some time in the healing waters of Maui. Kayak or paddle board and let's take a closer look at these amazing humpback whales. Or let's just snorkel a bit along the beautiful reef along Wailea Beach or Turtle Town. Our excursions to interesting sacred, natural and historic sites and towns are entertaining, educational and stimulating. The food is nothing less than world-class and extraordinary BUT nothing compares to ending your day with a glass of wine on the beach watching the sun go down. Maui sunsets are world famous. People line up along the beaches an hour before as if they're going to the premier of the summer's long anticipated blockbuster drive-in movie. However, you'll soon realize that the true blessing and gift of Maui is to be felt from within. It is a very real opportunity to experience the unexplainable. The unthinkable gift. The unspeakable shift. We have the opportunity to breath in and be present within the Aloha of Hawaii, of life, mana in its purest form.
Maui reminds us that life IS a miracle. Not in some abstract philosophical or religious sense, but in a real life tangible experience that we can all partake in. The way life was originally designed and created to be. An effortless yet profound miracle. With every breeze, every scent, every warm touch of the sun, every breath you take, every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you . . . Oh, sorry, that's a Sting song. I love Maui. Can you tell?
Showing posts with label early Boulder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label early Boulder. Show all posts
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
July 2009 - Dark & Light
On my 18th Birthday my Mother lost her 2 year battle with cancer. She died that night at the young age of 38 years old. This left me relatively alone in my life (as far as immediate family) and also opened a huge door into what I call "the void", the birthplace of all creative potential. I lingered around New Jersey for another few months trying to come up with a plan. I couldn't bear the idea of staying in the town of my High School and my Mother's gradual decline. My Bavarian roots in the German & Austrian Alps birthed a curiosity into what the Colorado Rockies might hold for me. And songs from John Denver and Dan Fogelberg stirred my imagination as well.
In the middle of winter I set off on the road in my beat up old Buick La Sabre that I had bought 6 months earlier for $250. But it died in a blizzard over the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. I continued my journey, but I took the long route. I wound up hitch-hiking over 30,000 miles up and down and across the United States over the next year or so. I had no money, all my belongings (mostly music books and some clothes) fit in my backpack and I still had no "plan". Hitching west was tedious and lonely until after passing through Kansas City. Then suddenly the sky and my mind simultaneously burst open in a great panoramic expanse. There was nothing but nature to be seen from one end of the horizon to the other. And so began the next chapter of my journey. My sleeping bag and the roadside became my home, food became my only expense and luxury, and the road unraveled endlessly before me with a diverse and often dangerous cast of characters. What I did, experienced and learned on the road is a whole other story which I won't get into here. But I will say that it contained everything one might imagine, hope for and fear from a very long and spontaneous road trip.
At 19 years old I found myself in Boulder, Colorado. I was hired as the second pianist playing for a University of Colorado Theatre and Dance Department production. I was paid $50 for 10 weeks of rehearsals and performances. That's $5 per week. I guess that's why they call it a labor of love. It wasn't the money I was looking for anyway. I was looking for something to be a part of. I wanted to "belong". I slept in the foothills in the early fall in my sleeping bag, and as the weather got colder I slept in the bathrooms and dressing rooms of the Theater building until the Director found me out and invited me stay with him and his family at his mountain home for a period of time. After the production ended, so did my welcome at his home. I started to pick up a little extra money playing piano for dance classes and at some lounges and restaurants around town. Soon thereafter I felt very fortunate to rent a room in a basement apartment on "the hill" in Boulder with 4 other guys.
The entire apartment had dirt floors, a single small bathroom, kitchen, 4 small rooms and a boiler room (the dreaded 5th bedroom). We fondly called our apartment "The Pit" and it became known for it's unusual assemblage of musicians, spiritualists and transients. True Bohemia. We shared the $150 a month rent equally at $30 each and I considered myself fortunate to have my own back entrance and to not be sleeping in the boiler room. The guy who slept in there and would emerge every morning soaked in sweat, swearing off the night's heat. I, on the other hand, lived in relative luxury in comparison. I had my own hand made platform bed, sleeping bag, alter with candles, incense and fruit bowl and an old upright piano I was struggling to pay off. I had one tiny little window up on the top of my bed that looked up onto the alley and driveway that I covered in stained glass, creating my own private sanctuary. I loved my room in the Pit.
I spent a lot of my time reading spiritual books like Autobiography Of A Yogi, A Course In Miracles and the Bhagavad Gita. I regularly practiced Tai Chi, meditated, chanted, listened to Keith Jarrett, Paul Winter and Oregon albums and played the piano. Fasting was a good way to get thru those lean times plus it made meditating and chanting that much deeper of an experience. 10 day brown rice fasts were common for me in the cold months and 4 - 7 day water fasts in the warmer months where I would often meditate over 4 hours a day. I had no possessions other than my piano and didn't feel motivated to do much except to explore my present and my muse.
I would imagine that in reading this it would be easy to see this as a very simple and even esthetically pleasing lifestyle. I had no apparent responsibility or agenda. Even in writing this I'm amused at what a nice neat package it presents itself to be and how at this point in my life it sounds almost like a little retreat from the much more complex world I currently live in. But this recounting of my past wouldn't be accurate at all if I didn't interject at this point that I had an ever-present, urgent and intense inner longing to touch upon something that felt "real" and "essential" in my life. Something with content and permanence. I craved experiences and relations that were meaningful to me at the time and that could shed light on the deep feelings and sometimes unbearable aloneness that I experienced on a daily basis. This near anguishing and persistent inquisition into trying to understand not just my place in the world but also this culture and world's place in the universe, motivated everything I did or didn't do and in so many ways still does today.
One night during a longer fast I was sitting on the dirt floor of my room meditating when I noticed this high pitched ringing sound in my ear. I decided to "listen" to it. Then I noticed another lower sound and I decided to listen to it as well. As I continued to listen there gradually appeared more and more tones. I noticed that the more I listened, the more I heard. I also noticed that there were different sounds in different ears. I kept listening and kept expanding my sense of awareness and after a while I found myself immersed in a very deep experience of hearing the most amazingly beautiful atonal noise or sound that i could ever have imagined existed. It was everywhere. I was attentive and focused on it and consumed by it at the same time. It was a phenomenal opening experience that I returned to many times in my meditations for many years. I later found out that my experience was actually of something called the Celestial Harmonies or the Music of the Spheres. A mystical experience of a deeper dimension. The sound of the Universe. The "Word". Once again, another door into the void was opened within me. And this set the stage for the creative exploration which would drive me forward for a long time to come.
I learned that music, light, dark, life and all creation simply exist. That we are creation living within creation. I also learned that to truly witness or experience creation and ourselves within creation we need to slow down, unravel, stop and listen. We need to empty ourselves of our thoughts, beliefs, desires, pains AND triumphs. We need to let go of our concepts of duality, of light and dark; of expanded and contracted and just sit with that sometimes awkward and uncomfortable emptiness that we try and avoid, sometimes for our whole lives long. We, as a culture are always trying to fill ourselves with people and things. Sometimes it's obvious that we try and fill ourselves with anything just to distract ourselves from something else, like a deeper, less comfortable feeling. What if we stopped trying to "fill" all the time and started to "empty". What if we let go of whatever thought, idea or longing that we thought was so important? And then, what if we just allowed that space or void to be there? In my experience, in so doing we've created a void. We become in some ways an empty "container" that in so being sends out an invitation to the "divine" or "essence" to fill this intimate space within us. This is the raw potential or experience of Creation. This is the courtship and dance between the void (emptiness or darkness) with creation (energy or light). And through that experience of emptying and allowing ourselves to be filled, we are forever changed. And this, as human beings and artists, is what we have the opportunity to share and express.
There are many of us filled with this experience. Some are musicians or artists. Some are authors and speakers. And some are teachers by example and simply touch family and friends from this essential place. I've been fortunate enough to know many musicians, artists and humanitarians that travel within this precious experience. But what we often forget is that truly knowing and embracing ourselves is a process that involves light and dark, energy and emptiness, beginnings and endings, joy and sadness. There cannot be one without the other. And without both there cannot be wholeness. The affinity and dependency of darkness and light is true primordial love. It is the passion from which we were conceived and the devotion through which we will dissolve. All that exists is the consequence of this enchantment . . . this eternal balance of dark and light. www.peterkater.com
In the middle of winter I set off on the road in my beat up old Buick La Sabre that I had bought 6 months earlier for $250. But it died in a blizzard over the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. I continued my journey, but I took the long route. I wound up hitch-hiking over 30,000 miles up and down and across the United States over the next year or so. I had no money, all my belongings (mostly music books and some clothes) fit in my backpack and I still had no "plan". Hitching west was tedious and lonely until after passing through Kansas City. Then suddenly the sky and my mind simultaneously burst open in a great panoramic expanse. There was nothing but nature to be seen from one end of the horizon to the other. And so began the next chapter of my journey. My sleeping bag and the roadside became my home, food became my only expense and luxury, and the road unraveled endlessly before me with a diverse and often dangerous cast of characters. What I did, experienced and learned on the road is a whole other story which I won't get into here. But I will say that it contained everything one might imagine, hope for and fear from a very long and spontaneous road trip.
At 19 years old I found myself in Boulder, Colorado. I was hired as the second pianist playing for a University of Colorado Theatre and Dance Department production. I was paid $50 for 10 weeks of rehearsals and performances. That's $5 per week. I guess that's why they call it a labor of love. It wasn't the money I was looking for anyway. I was looking for something to be a part of. I wanted to "belong". I slept in the foothills in the early fall in my sleeping bag, and as the weather got colder I slept in the bathrooms and dressing rooms of the Theater building until the Director found me out and invited me stay with him and his family at his mountain home for a period of time. After the production ended, so did my welcome at his home. I started to pick up a little extra money playing piano for dance classes and at some lounges and restaurants around town. Soon thereafter I felt very fortunate to rent a room in a basement apartment on "the hill" in Boulder with 4 other guys.
The entire apartment had dirt floors, a single small bathroom, kitchen, 4 small rooms and a boiler room (the dreaded 5th bedroom). We fondly called our apartment "The Pit" and it became known for it's unusual assemblage of musicians, spiritualists and transients. True Bohemia. We shared the $150 a month rent equally at $30 each and I considered myself fortunate to have my own back entrance and to not be sleeping in the boiler room. The guy who slept in there and would emerge every morning soaked in sweat, swearing off the night's heat. I, on the other hand, lived in relative luxury in comparison. I had my own hand made platform bed, sleeping bag, alter with candles, incense and fruit bowl and an old upright piano I was struggling to pay off. I had one tiny little window up on the top of my bed that looked up onto the alley and driveway that I covered in stained glass, creating my own private sanctuary. I loved my room in the Pit.
I spent a lot of my time reading spiritual books like Autobiography Of A Yogi, A Course In Miracles and the Bhagavad Gita. I regularly practiced Tai Chi, meditated, chanted, listened to Keith Jarrett, Paul Winter and Oregon albums and played the piano. Fasting was a good way to get thru those lean times plus it made meditating and chanting that much deeper of an experience. 10 day brown rice fasts were common for me in the cold months and 4 - 7 day water fasts in the warmer months where I would often meditate over 4 hours a day. I had no possessions other than my piano and didn't feel motivated to do much except to explore my present and my muse.
I would imagine that in reading this it would be easy to see this as a very simple and even esthetically pleasing lifestyle. I had no apparent responsibility or agenda. Even in writing this I'm amused at what a nice neat package it presents itself to be and how at this point in my life it sounds almost like a little retreat from the much more complex world I currently live in. But this recounting of my past wouldn't be accurate at all if I didn't interject at this point that I had an ever-present, urgent and intense inner longing to touch upon something that felt "real" and "essential" in my life. Something with content and permanence. I craved experiences and relations that were meaningful to me at the time and that could shed light on the deep feelings and sometimes unbearable aloneness that I experienced on a daily basis. This near anguishing and persistent inquisition into trying to understand not just my place in the world but also this culture and world's place in the universe, motivated everything I did or didn't do and in so many ways still does today.
One night during a longer fast I was sitting on the dirt floor of my room meditating when I noticed this high pitched ringing sound in my ear. I decided to "listen" to it. Then I noticed another lower sound and I decided to listen to it as well. As I continued to listen there gradually appeared more and more tones. I noticed that the more I listened, the more I heard. I also noticed that there were different sounds in different ears. I kept listening and kept expanding my sense of awareness and after a while I found myself immersed in a very deep experience of hearing the most amazingly beautiful atonal noise or sound that i could ever have imagined existed. It was everywhere. I was attentive and focused on it and consumed by it at the same time. It was a phenomenal opening experience that I returned to many times in my meditations for many years. I later found out that my experience was actually of something called the Celestial Harmonies or the Music of the Spheres. A mystical experience of a deeper dimension. The sound of the Universe. The "Word". Once again, another door into the void was opened within me. And this set the stage for the creative exploration which would drive me forward for a long time to come.
I learned that music, light, dark, life and all creation simply exist. That we are creation living within creation. I also learned that to truly witness or experience creation and ourselves within creation we need to slow down, unravel, stop and listen. We need to empty ourselves of our thoughts, beliefs, desires, pains AND triumphs. We need to let go of our concepts of duality, of light and dark; of expanded and contracted and just sit with that sometimes awkward and uncomfortable emptiness that we try and avoid, sometimes for our whole lives long. We, as a culture are always trying to fill ourselves with people and things. Sometimes it's obvious that we try and fill ourselves with anything just to distract ourselves from something else, like a deeper, less comfortable feeling. What if we stopped trying to "fill" all the time and started to "empty". What if we let go of whatever thought, idea or longing that we thought was so important? And then, what if we just allowed that space or void to be there? In my experience, in so doing we've created a void. We become in some ways an empty "container" that in so being sends out an invitation to the "divine" or "essence" to fill this intimate space within us. This is the raw potential or experience of Creation. This is the courtship and dance between the void (emptiness or darkness) with creation (energy or light). And through that experience of emptying and allowing ourselves to be filled, we are forever changed. And this, as human beings and artists, is what we have the opportunity to share and express.
There are many of us filled with this experience. Some are musicians or artists. Some are authors and speakers. And some are teachers by example and simply touch family and friends from this essential place. I've been fortunate enough to know many musicians, artists and humanitarians that travel within this precious experience. But what we often forget is that truly knowing and embracing ourselves is a process that involves light and dark, energy and emptiness, beginnings and endings, joy and sadness. There cannot be one without the other. And without both there cannot be wholeness. The affinity and dependency of darkness and light is true primordial love. It is the passion from which we were conceived and the devotion through which we will dissolve. All that exists is the consequence of this enchantment . . . this eternal balance of dark and light. www.peterkater.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
