Some years ago I was determined to find a natural solution to my cataracts. One of the techniques I stumbled upon was eye exercises along with sungazing. Using the technique below I had worked myself up to 5 minutes of looking directly at the sun every day.
Improve eyesight – Watching the sun (sungazing, eye sunning)
Most of us have a perception that sun rays are harmful to our body, that looking directly at the sun can damage our eyes. This is true for most people living in the city, who work inside all day with artificial lighting, exposed to the sun only during vacation or weekend, if you are lucky. And then, of course, getting sunburned. Did you ever notice vacationers on the beach? You can guess who just started vacation – they have distinct bright pink color to their otherwise pale-white skin.
If you know people who spend most of their time outside on the sun, you know that they don’t have problems like sunburns, they don’t wear sunglasses (they don’t need them, their eyes get used to sunlight, they don’t squint on the bright day) and they have less eye problems. These people don’t get skin cancer, their skin, having constant exposure to sun, knows how to protect itself. Human eyes of our ancestors were conditioned to absorb sunlight without harm; we, through sun deficiency, lost that ability to look at the sun without experiencing pain.
Sungazing is one of of most powerful exercises to train your eyes and improve eyesight. For some people who practice sungazing it is a spiritual ritual, they meditate and get energy from the Sun. If you have never done it, the best time for sungazing is before sunset or during sunrise in a day when sun is unobstructed by clouds. And you should increase your sessions gradually. It is the same as with sunbathing, exercising or anything else – if you do too much you can harm yourself, but don’t be aftraid of the Sun, this is not the mindset with which you do sungazing. Sun brings powerful energy to everything on Earth including humans, this energy can destroy if you are oblivious to it, but it can heal if used properly.
So, start with short sessions (described below) about 5-10 minutes and you will notice that you can do it longer and longer. Some people can look at the Sun for an hour or more because they sungaze every day. My husband on the sunny day in winter when the ground is covered with snow and reflects sunlight couldn’t open his eyes even slightly, while I was walking beside with my eyes wide open.
Choose, if possible, quet place with clear horizon towards the sunset or sunrise. If you live in the city, go to a ravine or a park and find the best spot. Stand or sit, your spine straight; cover up one of your eyes with your palm and watch the sun without blinking for as long as you can. You have to look right at the center of the sun and try to make the sun fill up the whole horizon in front of you. Relax your eyelids, your face, whole body. Observe the sun until tears are about to come out of your eye and it will be unbearable to continue watching. If it is painful to look at the sun directly start watching the space beside it moving your gaze closer while you progress.
Perform exactly the same procedure with another eye.
Try to do it every day, soon you will notice that you don’t squint on the sunny day, you don’t need sunglasses while driving towards the sun. You will be able to watch sunrise and sunset naturally without sunglasses for a long time.
P.S. Same rule applies for sunglasses as for eyeglasses – wear them only when you really need them.
I just finished Crime and Punishment, Dostoevsky. I had read it when I was in my 20’s. It’s worth a second or third read, for sure.
With everything that’s been going on this week…. I don’t know. Crazy place.
“When he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible strange new plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. Everyone was to be destroyed except a few chosen ones. Some sort of new microbe was attacking people’s bodies, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became instantly furious and mad. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples were driven mad by the infection. Everyone was excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know who to blame, who to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other. The alarm bells kept ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, becaause everyone proposed their own ideas and their own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.” ~ Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
I’m sitting in a car in the drivers seat, but I don’t think I’m the one driving. I seem to be just along for the ride. There’s another person sitting next to me, but I can’t see her face but it’s more that I refuse to look. Suddenly there are people in front of our moving car. I clench and tighten, but I don’t say anything. My thoughts are directed to the person sitting next to me, “Jesus, watch out. You’re gonna hit someone.“, but I don’t speak these words. I only think them and that person’s not driving. It turns out that I am.
A woman sticks her head into my side window and begins screaming. “You could have hit me and my daughter! What the hell are you doing? Watch where you’re going! She’s just a small child…just a small kid.” She’s really pissed, really angry and her face is ugly and severe, but she’s not screaming at me. She’s screaming at the person next to me even though I’m the one sitting in the drivers seat. I sort of lean back into my seat so she can look and scream past me and at the person next to me. Then she grabs the hand of the child and storms off.
That’s quite a dream and it appeared just as I was waking up, so, I remembered it. My analysis of the dream is; Who’s in the drivers seat? Stop trying to dish off responsibility for my own life. Whatever situation I’m in, is my own damn fault. No one else.
There were four or five people who came into my life over the past 10 years and flipped my world. I think I can say I wasn’t prepared for them. I was uneducated in how certain people can manipulate and bend situations to fit what they want with no regard for those they’re manipulating. None. I was too passive. I was too trusting. I had no ‘street smarts’. I had never experienced these kinds of people before.
First thing I learned is to watch their actions. Words coming out of mouths mean very little. They’ll tell you anything and everything.
Second thing is to pay attention to anyone who comes into my life. What is going on around this person. Are things falling apart? Are people running from these people? Step back and don’t believe for a second that I can help, save, or be a friend. No one else has been able to, what makes me think I can be the great savior, the true friend? Nope….if everyone is running, get my sneakers and beat feet.
Third thing is to listen intently. A destructive person will literally tell you stories of their past and how they manipulated, fought and beat up the people they encountered before me. I can’t ever think, “well, they won’t do that to me!!” Yes they will do that EXACTLY to you, but maybe better because they’ve gained some experience in the art of destruction.
Anyway, that was a good dream and I’m rambling on. I’m going for a drive and I’ll be in control responsibly and aware.
I had a dream last night, which prompted me to do a search for information on my amazing knack for pointing at others as the cause of my suffering. I won’t write the dream here for now. It’s just…well…have you seen the dark side of you’re own mind lately? I mean…really looked at it? There’s some scary shit in everyone.
The truly religious person . . . knows that God has brought all sorts of strange and inconceivable things to pass and seeks in the most curious ways to enter a [person’s] heart. He therefore senses in everything the unseen presence of the divine will. This is what I mean by “unprejudiced objectivity.” It is a moral achievement on the part of the doctor who ought not to let himself be repelled by sickness and corruption. We cannot change anything unless we accept it. Condemnation does not liberate; it oppresses. I am the oppressor of the person I condemn, not his friend and fellow sufferer. I do not mean in the least to say that we must never pass judgment when we desire to help and improve. But if the doctor wishes to help a human being, he must be able to accept him as he is. And he can do this in reality only when he has already seen and accepted himself as he is.
Perhaps this sounds very simple, but simple things are always the most difficult. In actual life it requires the greatest art to be simple, and so acceptance of oneself is the essence of the moral problem and the acid test of one’s whole outlook on life. That I feed the beggar, that I forgive an insult, that I love my enemy in the name of Christ – all these are undoubtedly great virtues. What I do unto the least of my brethren, that I do unto Christ. But what if I should discover that the least among them all, the poorest of all beggars, the most impudent of all offenders, yea the very fiend himself – that these are within me, and that I myself stand in need of my own kindness, that I myself am the enemy who must be loved – what then? Then, as a rule, the whole truth of Christianity is reversed: there is no more talk of love and long-suffering; we say to the brother within us, “Raca,” and condemn and rage against ourselves. We hide him from the world; we deny ever having met this least among the lowly in ourselves, and had it been God himself who drew near to us in this despicable form, we should have denied him a thousand times before a single cock had crowed.
(C.G. Jung, CW 11, Psychology and Religion: West and East, Chapter V, “Psychotherapy or the Clergy,” § 519-520)
Every morning I go to Starbucks, which is only down the street. Every morning for as long as I’ve been going there, which is a couple years, a woman in a blue car sits in her car in the parking lot.
I asked the guy who’s serving me coffee if she’s living out of her car. I’ve looked into her car as I walked by and it’s packed with the things a person who might be living in their car would have. The back seat is jammed packed with bags. The front seats have just enough room for her to sit and drive. I don’t know what the items are because I’m nosy, but not nosy or rude enough to stop and stare into her car to take inventory.
The coffee server tells me that her husband has cancer throughout his body. He’s been in and out of hospitals, a couple rounds of chemo, and supposedly, he’s considering stopping treatment to accept his fate. This intrigues me that he’s considering stopping treatment. She’s not living out of her car, but she does have major insomnia, so she’s up really early. I nod my head and find my seat to read and finish my coffee.
I see this woman every morning for years!! She gets her coffee and drives to a remote area of the parking lot. I get it in my head that I need to ask about her husband. I need to ask why he’s stopping treatment, because these are my thoughts for myself.
The other day in a caffeine induced manic euphoria I walk across the parking lot towards her car. This is completely out of character for me. I usually sit at Starbucks, bury my head in a book and let the world disappear. I don’t really want to know anyone anymore. Humans are scary things, I’ve discovered.
But this morning I approach her car and she’s got the window down. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but I’ve heard your husband is struggling with cancer.”
And that was all she needed. She unloaded her complete story. I stood near her car and she seemed to be talking into the steering-wheel not really looking at me. For 10 or 15 minutes she told me how her husband has been battling this cancer for years. How it’s spread into his brain and lymph nodes. He’s in the hospital doing another round of treatments to stay alive and control the pain. I can’t even remember most of what she told me because it was shocking and personal and maybe I shouldn’t be standing there hearing this. It felt like I had opened the door on someone who was undressing and they were embarrassed and I was embarrassed.
I asked, “How are you holding up?”
She strummed her fingers over her lips, “I’m a basket case.” She motions to the game she’s playing on her iPhone and the coffee sitting in the cup holder and says, “coffee and these little games are keeping me going, are my little retreat from it all.”
I nod and tell her I’m so sorry to hear this and what else can you say? We give our goodbyes and I back away from her car and slither into my own car. I drive to the other remote end of the parking lot, open my book and pretend to read while disappearing from the world. Ironically, I’m reading Confession, by Tolstoy, which is a great 93 page treatise on his battle with suicide idealization.
The thing is that the next couple of days she’s not at Starbucks. I don’t see the little blue car anywhere. Two thoughts pop in. The first is that I’ve intruded and made someone who wants to be invisible, visible. She’s found a new place where she can be alone, blend with the background and not feel she has to share this horror story. Some place where she can just sit in her car, play her games, sip coffee and maybe, in her mind, be on a beach in Hawaii, life is good, the breeze is warm, friendly and margaritas are chilled to perfection.
The other thought is that her husband died and she’s taking care of the things that need to be taken care of.
I hope I haven’t intruded on her and broken her much needed isolation so that she has to figure out a new routine to avoid probing nosy assholes like me. She was very comfortable in her old routine and it gave her what she wanted, if only for an hour or two.
I did find out what I needed. He is continuing to fight the battle and he’s not given up. He’s found something to hold on to, some reason to keep going. He’s a better man than I am. I continue with Tolstoy to see how he solves the puzzle.
“The people, I have seen, have been hurt mostly by deceit and that’s worth thinking about. You get walloped by life and there’s no doubt about that. For a long time I thought that maybe people can handle earthquakes, cancer and death, maybe, but they can’t handle betrayal and they can’t handle deception and they can’t handle having the rug pulled out from underneath them by people they love and trust. That just does them in. It makes them ill. It hurts them psycho-physiologically, but more than that it makes them cynical and bitter and resentful and then they also start to act all that out in the world and that makes it worse.” ~ Jordan Peterson
And it makes it worse.
resentful, not trusting, cynical
looking at people and seeing
their twisted minds
wondering what devastating
concoction of events took place
that now shapes their reality
and why would
want to step into that arena?
Who would have the strength
to withstand an engagement
with 20, 30 or 50 years
of deceit, lies, half-truths
and have it presented on a silver platter
with a shining smiling face?
There’s not a soul on this planet
unscathed and lacking deep scars
There is no one safe to connect with.
Leave me alone
with my cancer
and looming death.
This, I can handle.
If I talk to a guy about the Lee Child, Jack Reacher books and that I’ve read all 21 books. If this guy has never heard of Jack Reacher and I tell him how the character only has the clothes on his back. He carries no luggage. He own nothing except a fold-up tooth brush and maybe a wallet. He doesn’t own a house, car, mortgage, car payments, bed, and that he’s constantly on the move from one lowly hotel to the next. The cheaper the better. He usually travels by bus or hitchhiking. And…you DO NOT want to mess with Mr. Reacher because he will kick your ass in a major way, but first he’ll tell you how it’s going to go down and give you the chance to walk or run away. It would be best to take his first offer, cause you won’t like the second offer.
And then I can segue from Jack Reacher to the character Kwai Chang Caine, who pretty much lived the same lifestyle. Kwai Chang carried his little satchel of herbs and maybe a flute to keep him amused and the clothes on his back. He looks to be the innocent rambling half Chinese ex-monk. Owns nothing, meditates a lot and keeps moving. And…you DO NOT want to mess with Mr. Kwai Chang Caine because he will kick your ass.
So, if I talk to a guy there will come a point where his eyes become distant, like he’s looking into a dream. He’s imagining himself free, unencumbered, moving through life, none of life’s trappings and heavy obligations. Freedom. The guy will begin to smile at the fantasy and then blink himself back to reality shaking his head and say, “Ya, if only.”
If I’m speaking to a woman about the same topic her face scrunches up like she’s just eaten a lemon and smelled a fart at the same time. Her next words might be, “Yuk, who could live like that?” as she skips off to shop the mall with her bag swinging frivolously by her side. Tra-la-tra-la.
You tell me if it’s a man’s world or a woman’s world. Look at the houses lining every street, the cars, the malls, the frustrated men working jobs they hate. Who is running this show? I mean…really!
However, both Reacher and Caine say nothing and keep moving.