Illuminating the Heart-Centered Path

September of 2020, and once again I travel to Sedona, with a friend this time, to re-visit the Gravity Series.

This is a deceptively simple set of movements which, Luan explains in his book, The Art of Lo Ban Pai: An Introduction to the Internal Philosophy of Spiral Energetics, will “open the gateways of energy and ground one to the Heavenly aspect of Earth”.

The week slips by quickly—as usual—as time slowly unfolded itself. But even before the week is over, I begin to suspect that these seemingly simple movements are surely beckoning something which, as Lujan puts it, “Can’t be touched.” An enigma. One of many Lujan teaches.

I find it interesting that in his Lo Ban Pai book, the Hanub Ku symbol for the Gravity Series is empty in the center. This is how I feel about this set—it delivers the practitioner to the threshold of emptiness. What this emptiness is, I cannot say, not because I don’t wish to, but because I simply don’t know.

The Gravity Series helps me understand one of the teachings in which Lujan explains that as human beings, it is our fate to be suspended—as if in water—between heaven and earth. When performing the movements of Gravity, I sometimes experience the sensation of this suspension.

In his book, Lujan states,

In tandem with the physical gestures, you will learn methods of sending your etheric roots deep into the ground and simultaneously drawing energy from the sky into the body.

Lujan teaches that we must work to call up the heavenly aspect of earth as well as bring down the earthly aspect of heaven. This is the challenge life holds for us, and the Gravity Series can aid us in this task.

In this form, I begin to see the many possibilities inherent not only in this series, but in all the forms I have been taught, and I begin to fathom, however dimly, how the enigmatic can become real. The Gravity Series is one that now launches most of my other forms. I cannot dream of leaving it out. It literally ushers me into my day.

The more I study with Lujan Matus, the more I realize how much I don’t know. The wisdom I seek often seems forever beyond my reach. There is so much I don’t understand. But now, sometimes, during my morning meditation, I arrive—however briefly. I sense. A soft certainty—or perhaps I should say, a form of emptiness— overtakes me, and I know that the movements of Lo Ban Pai have helped guide me into this space.

It is this emptiness from which I wish to engage with the world, with others, with myself. It is within this emptiness from which life arises, and it is within this emptiness that life returns. Again, I don’t pretend to understand it; I am only grateful that I can experience it.

I am eternally thankful for the path which Lujan reveals—a path, which, in reality, is nothing more than one’s simple life lived sincerely and with devotion, that sometimes veers here and there, zigs when it should zag and visa-versa, but then sometimes surprisingly unwinds itself and becomes unexpectedly illuminated, and always, always, remains deeply heart-centered.

This is what brings me back to this practice. If you know Lujan Matus, you know of his deep compassion. His is both a profound and practical love, rooted in the dailiness of life— a love firmly grounded to the earth whilst reaching upward unto the highest reaches of heaven. A love, like God’s peace, that “passeth all understanding.”

What a gift to know someone like this. What a gift that someone like this walks among us.

As usual, I bow to the Master, send my love to all, and profoundly wish for the best.

Elizabeth