tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14645355850097149552024-02-07T21:54:26.155-08:00Living the Lay LifeReflections from the spiritual path... and other musings.Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-43224719192467764742012-12-21T07:57:00.002-08:002012-12-21T08:02:51.494-08:00Movement(s) (or) The ThrasherEach spring the thrasher, with her restless tufts of finch feather,<br />
considers her nest anew.<br />
Whether she should build it from the fallen limbs<br />
of a late March thunderstorm that rides on the heels of winter,<br />
or pick apart the outworn shreds<br />
of fluff and feather, disgarding tiny twigs in favor<br />
of something more sturdy, with gold-crested leaves<br />
that shimmer in the sun and wind.<br />
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There beneath the cypress and oak<br />
we spread our ivory bedsheet, uncovering<br />
last night's left overs, sprawling<br />
our branched-out bodies spritzed with the light sweat<br />
of an early spring bike ride.<br />
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I read to you from my favorite collection - The Fish -<br />
waiting eagerly for your thoughts - impaled impressions -<br />
a little scrap of something from the fieldscapes of your heart.<br />
I look up and your eyes are cast downwards - reading,<br />
and listening, but mostly reading.<br />
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I think of another far away time, a moment's snippet<br />
from the scrapbook of our springtime picnics,<br />
when I once read to you from this very same book,<br />
and waited with this very same breath, abated, <br />
for some word from your heart, and only heard the squaking<br />
of the thrasher as she tossed about in the brush,<br />
whisking pineneedles here, an unruly stick there,<br />
purposefully rebuidling to her own, unspoken wishes.<br />
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I remember how, back then, I wanted for you to be<br />
(so badly, so blindly), someone <br />
and something - else -<br />
which I had once loved.<br />
And I remember how you beat your tail<br />
against the bark of the tree<br />
in protest! And tightened up the strong muscle<br />
of your wing blades, anxious and defiant.<br />
"You cannot shape me," your shoulders said.<br />
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The thrasher finds among the thin needles of a tall<br />
and slender pine, new leaves for the taking.<br />
I put down my book and watch her quietly<br />
as you kiss my ankle -<br />
reading,<br />
and listening.Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-78861319464426775562012-08-25T18:28:00.000-07:002012-08-25T18:34:54.257-07:00Dreamscapes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Paying attention to our dreams can be so interesting and fulfilling. I've always been a noticer of the <em>night life. </em>Lately my dreams have been alive and electric, profound and awakening.</div>
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My best friend and I went for a girl's overnight camping trip on the Appalachian trail. It was beautiful and arduous, a very tough hike full of gorgeous views and mysterious blankets of fog. We hiked 10 miles to a sweet little valley area where we set up camp for the night. After a delicious campfire meal of tofu sausage, rice, and vegetables, sleep was not too far from our grasp. As dusk settled upon us we tucked ourselves into our cozy tent and shut our tired eyes. <br />
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I fell asleep gradually, perhaps in the most gradual way possible. I closed my eyes, quieted my mind, and listened to the sounds of the night. The chirping and beeping and whizzing and whining all around us grew louder and louder as I let it all in. The sounds of the forest grew so loud and encompassing that I felt as if they were vibrating within and through me, my self melting into the great wholeness. At some point the image of the tent above me fell away and I found myself staring into the dark night of the forest. Then I began to see a light emerging from behind and slightly above the treetops. It grew brighter and brighter, as if it were moving from the sky and descending down towards me. I watched as this light moved in and shone down, reaching and extending itself right into my belly, and I joyfully exclaimed, 'my daughter is here!'<br />
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I awoke immediatley after. I cannot tell you exactly what time it was, but I imagine it to have been somewhere around 4am. A storm had kicked up and the rain was now pelting and pounding against our tent, pools of water swirling around us as we laid wide-eyed with wonder in our refuge. Lightening was dancing everywhere in the sky but we could not pinpoint where, but only saw flashes through the veil of our tent and shuddered as the thunder rumbled around us. <br />
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An all-too-short day later, I confirm there is indeed a little light growing inside my belly. It feels different than it has ever felt before. I am scared and careful, somewhat over-vigilant, and remarkably drawn inward. I'm not glowing with elation or beaming with happiness... but this is not to say that I'm neither excited nor happy. I am both, of course. I'm just taking it all in, quietly, with some snipits of nostalgia here and there, tiny forgotten sorrows, images of dreams that have left me and new ones that have arrived. <br />
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Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-72482876566086090112012-08-13T21:21:00.002-07:002012-08-13T21:31:46.152-07:00Practicing Harmlessness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A monk recently spoke about the importance of joyous effort and the three obstacles to joyous effort: (1) laziness (2) busyness (3) self-defeating attitude/self-doubt. I thought a lot about these three obstacles and investigated how they are each at work in my own practice in both gross and subtle ways. The more I reflect on these obstacles, the more it seems to me that they, too, have roots and causes. As I looked deeper, I started to see that for my own path, the root obstacle which has been generating these three obstacles to joyous effort is purpose. Why do I practice? No really, <em>why</em>?<br />
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What purpose might I have that could really, truly, sustain the practice? I went through many things, even trying to get the answer boiled down to one key word, such as 'gratitude.' But nothing seemed to fit quite as perfectly as this: <em>practicing harmlessness.</em><br />
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Why do I sit every day, training my mind? To be peaceful, to be free from suffering, to cultivate wisdom. Yes, all of those things! But they are not just for me, they are also for you. And you, and you, and you! If I practice only for me, I get all tangled up in self-centeredness, critical of my practice, with unreachable expectations and too much desire for attainment. When I practice in order to take the best kind of care of others that I can -- everything simply settles into place. And the peacefulness, liberation from suffering, and wisdom which the practice naturally generates will also naturally be the qualities in me which takes care of you. <br />
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I like this exchange. It is a firm foundation, and makes my effort joyous. <br />
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It also contributes in its own way to patience and compassion in the practice. Training the mind is tough work. And it takes a great deal of time. This path is a gradual one, and contrary to our basic intuition which would tell us as much, I find myself having to constantly be reminded. One day we might sit for practice and the mind just wont settle down; it thinks and thinks and thinks and thinks. It's important to immediately tell ourselves that that's okay. That's what the mind naturally does. It's been doing that for a long, long time. Much longer than you've been practicing. It's easy to be aggressive with ourselves in our practice when the mind is so restless and defiant. It's far better to wrap our heart's arms around it and say in a sweet, gentle voice, 'that's okay. just notice the breath again.' And we may have to <em>notice</em> <em>the breath again</em> a thousand times in our little 30 or 40 or 60 minute sit. It's all a part of the practice. Practicing harmlessness must first begin with ourselves. There's simply no escaping that fact.<br />
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So, my friends, may you have patience with yourself in order to have patience with others. And may you have peace and compassion within and towards yourself, so that you may have peace and compassion with and towards others. <br />
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Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-32050666042455980122012-06-10T09:16:00.001-07:002012-06-10T09:16:31.259-07:00Being With<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A morning meditative thought: Every second that ticks by is another second of your life which you will never have again. I kick myself everytime I catch myself thinking, 'I can't wait until I'm not at work but at home' or 'I just want this unpleasant activity to be over so that I can do something else.' By wishing ourselves into the future and away from the present, we are hurling ourselves towards death and ignoring the gift of our own life. Appreciate every moment of your precious life. Make the most of it, even those moments we don't 'want.'</div>
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For Vesak, I journeyed on a 20-mile river hike in the North Georgia mountains. The moon was full but being far down in the mountain valley I never caught a glimpse. Instead, there were snails and snakes, night creatures and bears not far afoot. I took along with me Andy Karr's book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Contemplating-Reality-Practitioners-Indo-Tibetan-Buddhism/dp/1590304292">Contemplating Reality</a>, studying the teachings in the late afternoon after camp had been set up, and meditating in the evening and morning hours.</div>
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Perhaps it was the deep contemplation spurred on by my reading material, perhaps it was the full moon, or being far away from the ordinary, tangled life in the city, but the 'reality' I was accustomed to began to slip away out there on the trail. The sound of the river water at night, with my eyes closed listening to the sound itself so intentely, water became wind. Wind became whispers. The forest awoke with an aliveness of spirits that I could neither see nor name, but only sense and feel all around me. I was visited by the spirit of a fox one early morning hour before the sun had risen, and felt as much protected by it as I felt mystified by its elusive presence and confused by my own simple lack of understanding in the mystery of the universe.</div>
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Happy Vesak.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-91995516751809876812012-04-30T17:20:00.006-07:002012-04-30T17:20:59.793-07:00Humble Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mulberries are in season down in the hot and dirty south. My more northern and northwestern friends are saying it's far too early! Here in Georgia, though, it's right on time...</div>
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Urban picking is one of my favorite joys. The bounty is a blessing and so easily overlooked by other city dwellers! Here I've come home with a solid 6 pounds of mulberries and fresh dandelion greens. The berries have turned out some savory jam and a spring pie in the making! Just in time for mom's visit...</div>
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Do you have any mulberry recipes to share?? I would love to get more ideas on how to use these. A dear friend was able to turn her mulberries into a liquore which we happily drizzled into our champagne flutes with proseco. Talk about divine! </div>
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The semester has come to a close. I find myself still processing the impact of deep transformations and learning, spurred on by my clients. I've held them all so dear in my heart. They've taught me so much about how to be therapeutic, and what the real gift of therapy is... To witness another's growth is the most profoundly moving and humblig experience. I feel honored to be a part of it, and honored to have been given such unique trust. I know it's not easy to trust a stranger, and one who reveals so little about themselves to you but who will see you in your best and your worst (though more often your worst). It's truly a testimony to the safety I've been able to give some of these people who've stepped into my life in this way, that they have been able to unravel a little and do a bit of healing, and a bit of growing.</div>
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It quiets the mind and soothes the heart with warmth, and love. I am more thankful than I've ever been in my life before. </div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-3271814745305507112012-03-21T06:30:00.000-07:002012-03-21T06:30:14.881-07:00Vernal Equinox<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeikU2ovQ47EMWvuB19IQTc6bxy4UJQ_eIFo65f-k8x4AJdlWJ8tCjr7guAO5Wg7lgKdAy6XyxpCQxD6OINFQGySFfGKLbEe3fCByY1dYWu0UB5gdv_28l6rDfe1diEQUmiecyweXTDI/s1600/fading+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkeikU2ovQ47EMWvuB19IQTc6bxy4UJQ_eIFo65f-k8x4AJdlWJ8tCjr7guAO5Wg7lgKdAy6XyxpCQxD6OINFQGySFfGKLbEe3fCByY1dYWu0UB5gdv_28l6rDfe1diEQUmiecyweXTDI/s320/fading+flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">[Jamie]</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRNPifakCsJRM5K44k04UW4YzjhjkIcOogcZ8TXV3YK6nph4P274vvVJDKU3YqGr3ZQG0MauIArnCnv9rvhX5J1a15L1RS-Cjzr_ZoS5KXZwgYvfOv2INcFUitEhRerY7Ot_lcz36vRw/s1600/Darkly_Dream_Flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRNPifakCsJRM5K44k04UW4YzjhjkIcOogcZ8TXV3YK6nph4P274vvVJDKU3YqGr3ZQG0MauIArnCnv9rvhX5J1a15L1RS-Cjzr_ZoS5KXZwgYvfOv2INcFUitEhRerY7Ot_lcz36vRw/s320/Darkly_Dream_Flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">[Rita]</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Communicating via art. How I see the world; How she sees the world. </div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-51441663444275753062012-03-20T08:29:00.000-07:002012-03-20T08:29:42.846-07:00The Child at Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bI20vpf8Mh39KFn7vrDl_5ApCClYyfiCFyt774GlKkTzdlg1hN05AtpUIGBYXhUerP9r5hTdSVWEb5h3-HsHbDrKtWJt_ZMEYGFmCkJiLAXUG9eDhsWrUV5l9jLB38JNDKLQEWtjiXY/s1600/acorns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2bI20vpf8Mh39KFn7vrDl_5ApCClYyfiCFyt774GlKkTzdlg1hN05AtpUIGBYXhUerP9r5hTdSVWEb5h3-HsHbDrKtWJt_ZMEYGFmCkJiLAXUG9eDhsWrUV5l9jLB38JNDKLQEWtjiXY/s320/acorns.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Acorns sprouting their little green seedlings.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVrJ3D04B1u0UOf1yRmMPWy5pOc5UT5bZy-wc3cyT_4sJUI4J7yPOgBWSK9n05RKK2FtZCoKDmUTjMX-55u9CF4LnErULEZR79sB75EO4LaNc-lnrz-2kcRh1EgFa6-eylFKcAfarfHs/s1600/creekplay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVrJ3D04B1u0UOf1yRmMPWy5pOc5UT5bZy-wc3cyT_4sJUI4J7yPOgBWSK9n05RKK2FtZCoKDmUTjMX-55u9CF4LnErULEZR79sB75EO4LaNc-lnrz-2kcRh1EgFa6-eylFKcAfarfHs/s320/creekplay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A momma and her baby cub.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORaXygiJ-IBYHY0m1CDOzyKcDUDjfz8KZkNlKNNCQeLFQmfSuQ8GcARbcRHbWTg8F3rCaRD98z7U1IayBNbvUjJNhy61p02cvXWbV5tHmSLzQRLR1NaiDG9f5oHmT4ILK9Vpc29l0WY4/s1600/finnerz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORaXygiJ-IBYHY0m1CDOzyKcDUDjfz8KZkNlKNNCQeLFQmfSuQ8GcARbcRHbWTg8F3rCaRD98z7U1IayBNbvUjJNhy61p02cvXWbV5tHmSLzQRLR1NaiDG9f5oHmT4ILK9Vpc29l0WY4/s320/finnerz.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The most beautiful, joy-filled smile of my favorite little boy.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBnNCHEqar48C3v5HQtL6Qcgl0QHLrl1Vb2xb1FzT_TGyPUk83iM62tETjDbJBep0E5OvPHPAmf8pmehKjZGQlCX49jWDFQYecpyZxSFUEhxlz2LoxaojJChzkUhzhK9uGLj39sy78Y/s1600/three.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvSBnNCHEqar48C3v5HQtL6Qcgl0QHLrl1Vb2xb1FzT_TGyPUk83iM62tETjDbJBep0E5OvPHPAmf8pmehKjZGQlCX49jWDFQYecpyZxSFUEhxlz2LoxaojJChzkUhzhK9uGLj39sy78Y/s320/three.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Children at heart.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVWiBUEtdrItQ08wMIimhmcJLacRQiWjw2oIJBki1tYJ89RfBfnK4qRawVT6A0FfVW_bAlt8lFw982f1JlVw2lZD7JciG9FHhBryQVaV1g2sE6fNTF3b9Mn5YcTJAnivXJDVPfRAaL0g/s1600/meandeve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVWiBUEtdrItQ08wMIimhmcJLacRQiWjw2oIJBki1tYJ89RfBfnK4qRawVT6A0FfVW_bAlt8lFw982f1JlVw2lZD7JciG9FHhBryQVaV1g2sE6fNTF3b9Mn5YcTJAnivXJDVPfRAaL0g/s320/meandeve.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The nakedness of love.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If I were to ask my best friend in what ways her children are transforming her, perhaps she might say something along the lines of, 'they bring me most fully into the present moment, where every spec of the earth is filled with the fullness of the universe.'</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We are all children at heart. We are all naked at heart. Each of us carries the world within us.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-78570816267012838172012-03-09T10:56:00.001-08:002012-03-09T11:57:42.507-08:00Beyond our skins, Beyond our selves<em>In what way are you being transformed right now?</em><br />
<br />
This is the question my supervisor asked of me in my journey with practicum. Our clients change us, she says. They, and the process, transform us.<br />
<br />
Naturally, this question occurred to me in a deeper translation: In what way are these changes and transformations deepening my practice? In what ways is my spiritual practice being challenged?<br />
<br />
A few key words immediately come to mind: unconditional positive regard, compassion, patience, breathing, openness.<br />
<br />
In a more process-oriented light, I'm beginning to become aware of the <em>movement</em> of the therapeutic process. Minutes before a client steps into my office, I close my eyes and step out of my skin -- I step out of myself and go forth. I don't put anything on, but I take something off. The client sits down with me and I feel a part of me, deeply sincere, raw, and yet also sharply defined and carved out, meets that other person in this bubble-like space we create together. That space is unique for each individual I sit with. <br />
<br />
I think of Rogers and the interesting shift he made in the later part of his life where he took a turn from the humanistic into the more transpersonal realms of therapy. He didn't necessarily leave the humanistic behind. No, he had it with him as a foundation. But he began to find that he could transcend himself and still be with the other most fully, perhaps more fully, than simple congruence affords. This unique quality and way of being is presence -- something Rogers had only just begun to write about before he died. <br />
<br />
Presence is what I hope to explore more of. If I bring anything to this field, if I leave anything behind, I hope it is to offer an exploration and deeper understanding of this quality, process, and way of being which is Presence.Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-88998223971420620142012-02-06T12:47:00.000-08:002012-02-06T16:31:36.025-08:00The Stairway<em>Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir<br />
I have tried in my way to be free.</em><br />
<em>Like a worm on a hook, like a knight from some old-fashioned book</em><br />
<em>I have saved all my ribbons for thee.</em><br />
<br />
Leonard Cohen.<br />
<br />
<br />
How does it happen that two strangers pass with just gentle swipes of the shoulder, and one keeps steady while the other's heart leaps as if in the midst of danger? And all the while it's only the brussle sprouts who bear witness, and they could really care less. They're already about to be devoured.<br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
Sometimes the past comes suddenly into the present, without warning. Each time I think to myself, <em>next time, next time I'll be ready</em>. What is it I'm ready-ing for? The final break from the illusion? A breaking revelation? The past to untie its impossibly tight knot?<br />
<br />
---<br />
<br />
I had a dream the other night that I was full of an electric pulse. I went to wash my hands in the bathroom basin and electrocuted myself. There was a violent shaking as a wild, untamed power trembled throughout my body. A bright spark popped and sputtered in the middle of my heart and I woke up gasping for air. <br />
<br />
----<br />
<br />
I go to practicum three times a week and listen to the sorrows of the world. Somewhere inside of me I bear an image of a woman carrying heavy buckets of water from an overflowing well. What is that woman going to do with all of those buckets of water, I wonder. Will it help the well? Will it stop the flooding? She needs to find the source, but she knows that will require that she go down... way down into the middle of the earth. Someone elses earth. Someone elses darkness. Does she have the lantern ready? Does she have the right amount of light so that not only she can see, but that she can walk that other person out too? Or will she discover, way down there, when she finally arrives at the source of it all... that she, and the other, are actually One?Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-24538180678107903462012-01-16T13:12:00.000-08:002012-01-16T13:12:00.694-08:00Feral ChildrenAn idea has sprung forth! A marvelous, inspiring, exciting idea! <br />
<br />
Speaking on the phone the other evening with Rita, we got onto the topic of her art. I'd noticed on <a href="http://ladyleaf48.deviantart.com/">her deviant art page</a> that she hadn't posted a new piece in quite a few months. Inquiring as to why, she confided in me that she hadn't had much inspiration lately. Being the ever-aspiring therapist (in-training) I am, I began to ask her more questions to see if she could find some answers to this blockage she felt she was encountering. <br />
<br />
Her art, you see, is digital in nature. The confines of her illness limit her tremendously, which is why she has come to do art in the first place. She can't even step outside her back door. The closest to the outside world she can come, physically, is by lying on the floor of her living room watching the beautiful doves dance around her old, untended garden. Her art requires photographs... photographs of the outside world. Photographs which she has no way of taking herself. She has considered using stock photos, but they simply lack the inspiration necessary to engage her.<br />
<br />
This is where the idea machine in me began humming. I have a few cameras. I have been aching for artistic purpose and inspiration for years now, having been swallowed up by the gulf of academic writing and research. What if we started a project together?<br />
<br />
Here's the idea we've come up with so far: Throughout the week I take my camera with me everywhere I go, shooting pictures of things which speak to me. I'll send her all of my weekly photos and she'll then look at them in search of one or two which speak to her. She will then transform this photograph into one of her remarkable digital works and send it back to me. Then, I will take her piece of art and "listen" to it, writing either a poem or a little story to go along with it. <br />
<br />
The end-product could be either a blog we keep in which we update a weekly 'art speak' creation... or we save all of our work and put it together in a book. I think we should shoot for both! <br />
<br />
We're so excited about our new adventure together that we can already feel the electrifying pulse of inspiration rivetting our consciousness. The project is really about empathy, and how two friends communicate to one another via the media of art. I'm interested in the way we take up, interpret, and re-create that which we share with one another. I believe it will open up a new window onto the uniquely beautiful relationship we have together. <br />
<br />
To begin, I sent her these few images shot over the last few years. <em>If</em> we find that we can work together in this way, we'll start this journey of speaking through the tongues of art...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW7v__5tNf-TomaBVHlvYUM56RcWJB9mMbVm0HX_4yl447Ex96zHp89fBlxFXwQWiILWvCdg7Uk-IJB6EwGew4fT5z6Vo1bPT_Rqgox2O-u5RUUKS73a0O0jlvGZwsWeHjlVmhwt8sqcc/s1600/Autumn+leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW7v__5tNf-TomaBVHlvYUM56RcWJB9mMbVm0HX_4yl447Ex96zHp89fBlxFXwQWiILWvCdg7Uk-IJB6EwGew4fT5z6Vo1bPT_Rqgox2O-u5RUUKS73a0O0jlvGZwsWeHjlVmhwt8sqcc/s320/Autumn+leaves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o1nOXueS6TOpfCz2nxO6hITCXeseKFn7znTXKf-NZvgOT9G0_Pfa-03p51X9l6qjPmf_A8UtsR9SUdmwntXXge2KPV0U-T6PsO67OsyJS66NznKDhnH6O6-RZNbHHWvEz9Ikc0nxSq4/s1600/buttercups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8o1nOXueS6TOpfCz2nxO6hITCXeseKFn7znTXKf-NZvgOT9G0_Pfa-03p51X9l6qjPmf_A8UtsR9SUdmwntXXge2KPV0U-T6PsO67OsyJS66NznKDhnH6O6-RZNbHHWvEz9Ikc0nxSq4/s320/buttercups.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPf2n36Q6_a5fQUvy7dT37QcBi4jAl977b8VRMI7ULtpps2SjpvZT7cjqVM82sN2eYJdrNS_iXXWiEfqhyY1O5Q4AjA_jgACuGoshVgyd18orX3S2hCL5n7OBf0clKNsCZxMgzBYTsuo/s1600/fading+flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPf2n36Q6_a5fQUvy7dT37QcBi4jAl977b8VRMI7ULtpps2SjpvZT7cjqVM82sN2eYJdrNS_iXXWiEfqhyY1O5Q4AjA_jgACuGoshVgyd18orX3S2hCL5n7OBf0clKNsCZxMgzBYTsuo/s320/fading+flower.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZQ85zrLCUjx4DhIxzMlfn17Q1CUUpPOgSexkznsK8gWbJJYLGqqKaIVKWYdUeZu-5SC5YH5aeXPjuYgyKUzGgamyokHTlPZWiQpMIi1F_kGJooBrMaH_L2S3r2Fs8Qd4T8vZb7G6BvQ/s1600/winterbranches.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjZQ85zrLCUjx4DhIxzMlfn17Q1CUUpPOgSexkznsK8gWbJJYLGqqKaIVKWYdUeZu-5SC5YH5aeXPjuYgyKUzGgamyokHTlPZWiQpMIi1F_kGJooBrMaH_L2S3r2Fs8Qd4T8vZb7G6BvQ/s320/winterbranches.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-27748195852948224302012-01-07T13:10:00.000-08:002012-01-07T13:13:43.803-08:00Spiritual Disobedience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yjanAuUD9IKGYJS3K-T9ATgYYqt08r5duwgjKGOXZHEsiZwUjWC6s0-qsoCVWqGb5tkwUFt_N0REjRLWB9Hbk7VYphyphenhyphenS5_M4TLkkocjG34U2kdUme8uOyWuqBUEdjveyH7W89LQNxQ8/s1600/pots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5yjanAuUD9IKGYJS3K-T9ATgYYqt08r5duwgjKGOXZHEsiZwUjWC6s0-qsoCVWqGb5tkwUFt_N0REjRLWB9Hbk7VYphyphenhyphenS5_M4TLkkocjG34U2kdUme8uOyWuqBUEdjveyH7W89LQNxQ8/s320/pots.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I had a striking epiphany this morning in meditation. I've been working lately on feeling my way out of the habitual thought-involved mind and into the still clarity of witnessing. Looking at the way in which I typically engage with thoughts it occurred to me that part of the illusion with our minds is that we listen to and identify with our every thought. We think that it is "ME" who is thinking, me who is deciding, me who is liking and disliking and wanting to go here and there and on and on. In reality, the mind is simply producing via the faculty of thought a billion thoughts all day long. Due to our fundamental belief in the illusion of thought as self, we obey almost every thought that comes into our minds. We listen to them as if they were the holy grail. "I'm fat. I'm too tall. I hate this. I love that." Etc, etc. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Why not begin disobeying? I began to try this one small measure: every time I caught myself beginning to listen to a thought in meditation, I chose to disobey the call to listen. I coupled this with the labeling technique. My attention then would be pulled towards the thought and I would respond gently with "no, no attention" and then label it "thought". What took shape was subtle and did not involve pushing thought away. It was simply a matter of deciding to take control of my own mind. There is a wisdom far greater than the intellect. The soul knows this. Open to it with effort.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-62529286932823636892012-01-03T22:08:00.000-08:002012-01-03T22:12:56.611-08:00The Gradual Path<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuYUNhX5NJtfGd3wE2hY8JJiuHdtZFpRUg7qfDReYnOwIsl9BMwpyhNUvB5W7jExqv4stjB4f_TnpzWeqzVwlgKKvCeC7ojpeHmEaIsmQX9mp4QVW72xcU08JnCvi9g6qdVWFSrUooac/s1600/nest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieuYUNhX5NJtfGd3wE2hY8JJiuHdtZFpRUg7qfDReYnOwIsl9BMwpyhNUvB5W7jExqv4stjB4f_TnpzWeqzVwlgKKvCeC7ojpeHmEaIsmQX9mp4QVW72xcU08JnCvi9g6qdVWFSrUooac/s320/nest.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Am I making progress? What kind of progress? In what ways am I progressing; in what ways ought I progress?</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These are a few of the questions on my mind as of late, along with a host of others. I've been experimenting a little with meditating continuously (once or twice daily) versus taking breaks from mediation all together. What are the differences? How is the practice affected? What changes or does't change in the mind?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">When I was practicing heavily, meaning two to three times a day up to nearly two hours a day, I had begun to easily notice the still point within and to maintain that still point with ease. When I take a "break" from meditation the still point can be found again upon return to the cushion but it is much less stable, tuning in and out like a cellphone signal. After a few days back on the cushion for 45 minute sits, the still point begins to settle in a little more and a little more each time I sit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Although some say that there are different paths one can take in terms of progression, I'm finding solace (and patience and perseverence!) in the knowledge that buddhism and meditation is a gradual path. Insight, calm, and clarity come gradually. For some, and with certain techniques, these things can come suddenly and quickly. I've experienced this as well, but I have a lot less control over the sudden paths because it has only ever come to me spontaneously. The path of gradual progression gives me faith and hope, it keeps me going and reassures me when I begin to doubt myself or my progress.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's important not to take the gradual path as reason to sit back on our laurels and wait for enlightenment, peace, and wisdom to come to us. There is still so much work to be done. But for a while, I find, I can give up the striving nature of the mind and relax into the meditation itself, watching the breath, watching the thoughts bounce around, watching the stillness come in and stay awhile, then watch it depart down the stream of thoughts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I believe it's important to continually check in with ourselves to see how we're doing. Am I trying too hard? Am I too lax? How have I grown? In what ways can I grow?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've found lately that I've been growing temendously in equanimity. There is a great deal of spaciousness within me when difficulties arise around me, or when a situation comes about in which I would have ordinarily become emotionally swept into. It's liberating to have that spaciousness and the opportunity to decide how I want to respond. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">At the same time, there are still struggles between these two great polarities of the hindrances: restlessness and sloth and torpor. In meditation I can see the restlessness as a basic tightening, or tension, inside of me that either wants something I don't have or doesn't want what I've got. For right now, I'm working on meeting this tension with the active feeling of openning to it and and then warming it with love. Soon I will ask myself, <em>is this technique effective? If not, what else might I try?</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the way of the gradual path.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-70557431766957442332012-01-01T20:34:00.000-08:002012-01-01T20:36:40.774-08:00New Year, New Age, New Moment<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdr6qc3HoYxvyi501YuR_reRBhA0QYfg0Cgx6YWL-hX_decCJV4JcrpPulznWJ9O30FB8jaN3NwlcdaO5pjTW3_qFcZUUqJ7QtFh6sekeb6qFF2SZMkt8vaVSCGfJidwEQ4XJdLm3lgM/s1600/tybee1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmdr6qc3HoYxvyi501YuR_reRBhA0QYfg0Cgx6YWL-hX_decCJV4JcrpPulznWJ9O30FB8jaN3NwlcdaO5pjTW3_qFcZUUqJ7QtFh6sekeb6qFF2SZMkt8vaVSCGfJidwEQ4XJdLm3lgM/s320/tybee1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've often thought of my birthday as an unfortunate circumstance: the Christmas "slash" birthday presents, no chance for a pool party when you're little, and <em>always</em> tending bar on my birthday night for the other New Year's celebrators. I'm happy to say that, this year, I'm finally beginning to imagine it a little differently.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm a New Year's baby. Born on a day full of hope (despite the hangovers), resolutions, renewed promises, thoughtful life-reviews, and moments of introspection. Everyone celebrates togetherness. Fireworks explode into the night sky. Southern families cook up black eyed peas and collards, toasting to prosperity and good health. Everyone kisses their sweetheart at midnight. A plethera of "unplanned" babies begin their journey (haven't you ever wondered why there are so many damned Virgos?!). It's a rather auspicious time to come into the world and I'm feeling very, very lucky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is despite my car breaking down. And my coworker never showing up to give me a ride to work. And the seat of my pants splitting right in the middle of my bar shift. Take it all in stride, I tell myself. Laugh, smile, be joyous. I'm alive! I was <em>born</em> today! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Dinner with my best friends. Laughing until it hurts. A flute full of golden champagne. A heart warm with love.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowEfRxnXzjfe9kRmZP4nLrAK90k8cVO9jR9eu6HBmzdPPDvVVyyx7mqMR2vxFbVZ4QMEF1U72YI5LDbayxhKa2nla7rEeEgxAvwfNg0gEWGUe7Ty-SEkEZpK8HSIdgyVtOChGwFnasdg/s1600/tybee3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhowEfRxnXzjfe9kRmZP4nLrAK90k8cVO9jR9eu6HBmzdPPDvVVyyx7mqMR2vxFbVZ4QMEF1U72YI5LDbayxhKa2nla7rEeEgxAvwfNg0gEWGUe7Ty-SEkEZpK8HSIdgyVtOChGwFnasdg/s320/tybee3.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I spent some time going back through all of the entries in this journal for the last year and a half. So much growth! Up, up, and away. I'm so very pleased with my changes and the direction of my life. I'm at peace. The spiritual path is gaining width and depth. I'm learning and opening, and loving more and more the strangers I meet every day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_xMaYrZ2oysEBFcCktIqHvfwKyCUyvL_Ifptzls6NCp8n79k6o2l62vLHquBM5IqkzSyhE1aM-FjgBKD_LMFKtRrXmhK6W0fzUMHetSJEdR6UyrJjl7XnnfCECLHM0nCSsfcl4PZS-0/s1600/tybee2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_xMaYrZ2oysEBFcCktIqHvfwKyCUyvL_Ifptzls6NCp8n79k6o2l62vLHquBM5IqkzSyhE1aM-FjgBKD_LMFKtRrXmhK6W0fzUMHetSJEdR6UyrJjl7XnnfCECLHM0nCSsfcl4PZS-0/s320/tybee2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What changes do you discover when you look back over the year? Which one's make you smile? Which one's make the heart wince a little?</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-52361873263317374682011-12-13T21:26:00.000-08:002011-12-13T21:26:56.928-08:00Winter WritingWords! Words have come back to me, marching foreword, onward, with a mission! Determinedly. Demandingly. Commanding my attention. It's as if the tiny slice of time that I have between now and next semester has opened up a flood gate I've been thirsting after for years. All at once. Here and now.<br />
<br />
<em>Is it because she has been there, pounding at the door, herself? Calling out to the muse, wringing it out of her, preciously, painstakingly?</em><br />
<br />
I notice that a part of me has grown up. I want to read everything I can get my eyes on. I want to study the craft from the crafters themselves. I want to listen. I want to consider. I never had this desire before. I only wanted to talk. I only wanted to chatter, compose, create, communicate. The one-way street has become the two-way. <br />
<br />
I read Didion's latest book and skipped over the recommended Magical Thinking predecessor. I haven't the gumption for weak endings. Blue Nights is no weak ending. I could see it rising somewhere in the middle, about half way through. What I thought it was about, what I'd been told it was about, was not at all what it was about. It's an existential think-piece. She's asking, and yet not quite asking, the proverbial question that's been asked again and again since the beginning. It's about our own personal relationship with impermanence, change.... Death. Our death. Mine. Yours. The elusive way in which we deny it, cover our eyes, stick our heads in the sand. But the covers we erect over this disturbing truth, the reality of our lives, eventually dissolves. We are left with only the simple, plain fact -- and the task of acceptance.<br />
<br />
There's something about Didion's writing -- her voice, her style -- that strikes a deep cord of familiarity. As I read her words it's as if I can hear my Grandmother's voice reading to me. It's as if she, not Didion, had written this memoire. I felt suddenly close to her again, admiring her matter-of-factness, her tactful grammer, her flawless poise. Images of Gramma walking away from me, when she didn't know I was watching, her shoulders perfectly rolled back, her spine straight, her gait sensual and sexy (even at 70!), flash across my memory. Her elegance ever striking. It could take your breath away.<br />
<br />
I find myself wanting to invent this word: Deloquarious. I don't even know what it would mean, but it would somehow describe this writer's voice.<br />
<br />
Deloquarious.<br />
---<br />
<br />
Poetic preludes keep entering my thoughts. I take a drive down our street to Jessica's house. I pass the converted funeral home with a lawn full of black birds. Hundreds of them. Pecking away at the ground. I look out the window smiling excitedly and let out a "HA!" alone in my car. Imagening them as my audience I throw out a few playful words. "The black birds taking in their winter feast. Winter starlings feasting. Winter birds feasting on the prize of Autumn's left overs." Reinventing lines. Turning them over. Examining their edges. Rotating them through the kaleidoscope of my mind. <br />
---<br />
<br />
The day got away from me before it even began. It's been the oddest time sheet on record. I woke and did yoga. Rita called and we spoke. It was suddenly five o'clock, so we had dinner. Hadn't I only just awoken? <br />
<br />
I think of Didion's book again, and fear I'm marching blindly towards my own death, letting minutes and moments I'll never have again leap off my page and take a nose-dive into the past. <br />
<br />
<em>Am I awake?</em><br />
<br />
I lower into plank pose. I slither into snake pose. I bend and fold and push into downward dog. I inhale the foot forward and move to bring the body back into standing and it all takes a heavier sigh than I have ever known. The entire body -- my entire body -- felt in that split second, radically old. I've never felt that before. The tightening. The slowing down. The creak and crack and crumble of my bones, with nothing springy between them restless to move again.Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-66038901913742941402011-12-11T23:11:00.000-08:002011-12-11T23:59:49.074-08:00Mother RitaTwo beautiful foreheads pressed together,<br />
we make a canopy of our steepled arms<br />
and place our love here.<br />
Palm to palm.<br />
Fingers interlaced and hooked in rapture.<br />
<br />
Hard knuckles of white against white,<br />
we cling to this brittle branch of dreaming<br />
where, for a hollow moment,<br />
I hold you in the whole of me.<br />
<br />
Was it the hungry cub, pawing out for its mother's milk<br />
which woke me --<br />
Startled beneath the quick blanket<br />
that jerked the wind from my lungs?<br />
<br />
It was then that I first saw you, Great Mother.<br />
Oh how the rounds of your eyes<br />
were so brown! As dark as the wet forest trunk<br />
is heavy, <br />
with earth's ancient groaning.<br />
<br />
I found you on your bathroom floor<br />
and fell to my knees <br />
at the cords of your robe.<br />
<br />
You were a shrine. My shrine!<br />
Crumpled up on the cold square tiles.<br />
A precious stone burnished over time --<br />
<br />
One part coal and one part diamond.<br />
Riddled with the disease<br />
which snakes its way up your sternum,<br />
and sinks its pointed teeth deep into your spine.<br />
<br />
This is you, and you are not a dream!<br />
Together,<br />
we cry and coo.<br />
Twittering as the doves do<br />
on your back porch stoop.<br />
<br />
I press the top of your head with my lips, feeling<br />
your soft hair, wrapping<br />
myself up in your juniper scent, <br />
my wet tears pounding you with kisses.Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-25084253253440290132011-10-21T20:01:00.000-07:002011-10-21T20:06:50.298-07:00Seeing the Light<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHuKaoCt84F_ZVEnsWEUEiaY71-jzbIpfQXj701oYG2VXQbAMCCPXYw5NnPWrqaqf2yLkMHlhzeyA4hegsd-Td-OD5gVvIJFrDuaFo87PAMaprECWMdtDebtiWG7Ao0ev4T7ug1XZIBaw/s1600/DSC03659.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHuKaoCt84F_ZVEnsWEUEiaY71-jzbIpfQXj701oYG2VXQbAMCCPXYw5NnPWrqaqf2yLkMHlhzeyA4hegsd-Td-OD5gVvIJFrDuaFo87PAMaprECWMdtDebtiWG7Ao0ev4T7ug1XZIBaw/s320/DSC03659.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
I made pumpkin bread and pumpkin muffins this morning. </div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQn8Zm0yCaE3JFseei4jkn8JUZrZqlUwr70Pge6VTGSdFk_6zg69U5ygpyo2hBfLID8qHIQ8nFTzCT_s0ihHINVwjLSzwCXXB0x8h-qep42oYPxpOMaNnx0UqKIsnkfLX5KjZ48lFPS0/s1600/DSC03660.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQn8Zm0yCaE3JFseei4jkn8JUZrZqlUwr70Pge6VTGSdFk_6zg69U5ygpyo2hBfLID8qHIQ8nFTzCT_s0ihHINVwjLSzwCXXB0x8h-qep42oYPxpOMaNnx0UqKIsnkfLX5KjZ48lFPS0/s320/DSC03660.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
I loved how the light was hitting them through the kitchen window... they look like holy golden muffins. I wouldn't say they tasted quite as heavenly as I would've liked. I balked at the recipe calling for 2.5 cups of sugar when I was only using 3.5 cups of flour, so I took out half a cup... much to the disappointment of the muffins. They also lacked the moisture I would have preferred. Note to self and others: don't apt for the shortcut of canned pumpkin, just go for the real thing.</div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvH9pWPR_tqSVlY5E-Y2qWJ8FIXGw-J2gRbBUG_DRWA4uFUgS-WGTwEaoSu-ojkTLFW5HjzwhvXD0uNQHupCfqarHxm7GyvfPFE8c9kZxuw8Ic9VZGjV55Hh3D3ArCzGdpt3naSMJvQg/s1600/DSC03662.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvH9pWPR_tqSVlY5E-Y2qWJ8FIXGw-J2gRbBUG_DRWA4uFUgS-WGTwEaoSu-ojkTLFW5HjzwhvXD0uNQHupCfqarHxm7GyvfPFE8c9kZxuw8Ic9VZGjV55Hh3D3ArCzGdpt3naSMJvQg/s320/DSC03662.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I attempted to save them by making a cinnamon and suger glaze with butter and cream. All in all? They were, just, okay. I brought them down to Carollton and shared them with the hospice patients and hospice staff.<br />
<br />
I was finally able to get a nice, long, 45 minute meditation sit in last night. I'm looking forward to a longer one this evening. I'm still trying to ferret out what makes for the really awesome sit and what stifles or obscures a sit. Last night I found concentration to come quite naturally and easily. As I entered deeper and deeper into the breath I began to notice something peculiar taking shape. Whether it's an act of my imagination, or the "sign" Bhante G talks about in his book, I'm still not sure. It was incredibly encouraging, though! I began to sense being at a doorway. It had real shape to it, and sort of pointed up at the top. I felt the doorway surrounding me a little, like a bubble. I sat in this doorway for a few minutes, minutes which I knew wouldn't last because I had already begun to ponder the experience and think about it, rather than be <em>in</em> it. That's a tricky balance to manage...<br />
<br />
I remember when I had my very first meditative absorption. It was back in Iowa on my 21st birthday in a zen monastery. When I entered absorption there was a distinct "popping" sensation, like bursting through or popping your finger through plastic. There was a domed light surrounding me and the color of dark army green. I have no idea what these things mean, but they were present and experienced on some level that was neither just in my mind nor outside of it. <br />
<br />
The recent dhamma talk posted yesterday was also encouraging. I was reminded that, though we accumulate bad kamma through our actions, we also create good kamma too. And this good kamma builds and builds. When we sit for meditation, each time we do, it's building good kamma. Eventually, we must enter the jhanas. It's simply bound to happen, like filling a pitcher of water. Eventually, the water will spill over. I'm hoping that the doorway is a sign, a symbol, that I'm building that kamma and coming closer to the first real step inward.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-32853105595485524042011-10-12T17:13:00.000-07:002011-10-12T17:16:30.698-07:00Autumn and All Things Good<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiuf7-C_dy5sn8oY7es2odBdOhxlPrA1QBAEcR7TzVm54GhC1Y5XhfC6vtLm66r2ipwJARupU7MjH2jd60Zyv8icQCursglLn0Wb6-O7uw1JbseNsx-Q_V7p6QW-aOr1RkTSxQ5Ji_ujg/s1600/DSC03652.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiuf7-C_dy5sn8oY7es2odBdOhxlPrA1QBAEcR7TzVm54GhC1Y5XhfC6vtLm66r2ipwJARupU7MjH2jd60Zyv8icQCursglLn0Wb6-O7uw1JbseNsx-Q_V7p6QW-aOr1RkTSxQ5Ji_ujg/s320/DSC03652.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
I can't sing the praises of this <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/roasted-delicata-squash-salad-recipe.html">salad</a> enough. Wow. Just, wow! Roasted delicata squash and fingerling potatoes, fresh kale, pepitas, radish, and a delectable handmade miso-harissa dressing. Well, I had to do a little improv for the harissa, which is one very elusive sauce to find. I've searched far and wide without any luck, until I realized I needn't search at all... it can be made in my very own kitchen! Of course, who has the time to put it together at quarter after six, staring at 50 pages of research needing to be read and analyzed for a grant proposal whose deadline is looming? Yea, me neither.<br />
<br />
Chili oil can go a long way.<br />
<br />
To balance out the citrus and spice in the salad, I also made a sweet corn soup finished off with yogurt and dill. I was unfortunately too full to eat this bowlfull after finishing off a plate of the delicata salad, but the husband had no problem polishing off both! Men... I wish I had half their metabolism!</div><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yQjHnGN0dRI_nD-_bYrEUaRqvEVn1mO-FgxzYXFYcMmA42I_Z0WXQJ-UrFFHoTmXieONYka_Ys35RGMyL-JOE5hPwLX1a5fN3QuuiTOkhfjBzDSYqL7aqsdq7keaxJyIvS8CXG1gfJ0/s1600/DSC03655.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_yQjHnGN0dRI_nD-_bYrEUaRqvEVn1mO-FgxzYXFYcMmA42I_Z0WXQJ-UrFFHoTmXieONYka_Ys35RGMyL-JOE5hPwLX1a5fN3QuuiTOkhfjBzDSYqL7aqsdq7keaxJyIvS8CXG1gfJ0/s320/DSC03655.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
What are some of your favorite autumn foods?</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-49014120637384355022011-10-08T12:48:00.000-07:002011-10-08T12:49:35.758-07:00Getting Stuck on the Way Up<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrVQMJDhcdNF4A1dH3KiZSAjWPdH_y8eXSloSJi8EE5Xv1Wp2G_PTTjk0wHTQB02tquZQygCPT8e2z_KHhqCgAxGyy7QO7B9r2lmnwWV6B4L_AEHjpJJRCLWgy69GfhcRg7g9fvhUxWo/s1600/DSC03649.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizrVQMJDhcdNF4A1dH3KiZSAjWPdH_y8eXSloSJi8EE5Xv1Wp2G_PTTjk0wHTQB02tquZQygCPT8e2z_KHhqCgAxGyy7QO7B9r2lmnwWV6B4L_AEHjpJJRCLWgy69GfhcRg7g9fvhUxWo/s320/DSC03649.JPG" /></a></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">[Cleveland, our 6 month old kitten, takes a look out the window with his butt stuck in the blinds]<br />
<br />
It's been a month since I've last written. I have only one excuse: school. <br />
<br />
School has been amazingly busy this semester. It's no help that I also signed myself up for the impossible: four classes, practicum, research assistantship, working weekends, hour-long commutes. Needless to say, I dropped a class to keep my nose above the water line.<br />
<br />
Even with the recent dropping of some of the load, it hasn't come without its consequences. In the month struggle my stress and anxiety levels went through the roof, I had an emotional breakdown, upped my intake of wine, and the meditation practice almost completely fell out of each day. I watched my sits go from nearly two hours a day, down to one, down to thirty minutes, down to thirty minutes every other day, and finally, twenty minutes once in seven days. I'm reminded of the story Phakchok Rinpoche told me about his experiment with the 'ordinary' life, in which he gave up meditating for an entire week. At first he didn't notice much difference, maybe he lost his temper once in a while. But by the end of his experiment he had become extremely stressed, angry often, loosing his temper frequently, in a constant hurry to go places and do things. "It was just awful," he said, shaking his head. He was amazed that people could function at some level -- albeit with varying degrees of insanity -- without the practice in their lives.<br />
<br />
My month-long slope down hill felt very much like his experience. I'm trying hard to turn the boat around, but the current that has built up against me in the meantime has grown quite strong. There's a lot of resistance I have to work against just to get myself back to where I was on the path. It's not just the loss of concentration ability in formal sitting that's difficult to regain. It's more about the memories of various heedless moments I've had -- broken precepts, poor virtue -- that weighs me down. A careless lie, a mean word, one glass of wine too many... these things hurt the faith in ourselves necessary to push on. <br />
<br />
I have an overwhelming urge to sit perfectly still, not doing a thing, but it's a real illusion of stillness that is actually lack of energy and motivation. I'm sitting still anyway, in order to try and slow it all back down. An hour's sit this morning and an hour's sit last night, listening to a few deeply meaningful dhamma talks, may help realign the focus. <br />
<br />
I'm finding a little bit of inspiration in this picture of Cleveland from this morning. Even though his bottom half is tangled up and stuck in the blinds, he's still reaching for the perfect view. </div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-91556746214068723902011-09-02T20:03:00.000-07:002011-09-03T04:58:33.035-07:00Patience + Perseverence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8X-7fsMZgW9M4bErSm1xUWFtArApToAJos1f_Zmhu-Ugrxo-w_Bk_jOxQ_2ecwpxpwW-bAf4zuMDPEgLg3ccyiO8zp_Ru1Ond8MVX20uDjNG3hcd6vsAKmUv1dWrYqYKZJfZFwp4sz10/s1600/DSC03406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8X-7fsMZgW9M4bErSm1xUWFtArApToAJos1f_Zmhu-Ugrxo-w_Bk_jOxQ_2ecwpxpwW-bAf4zuMDPEgLg3ccyiO8zp_Ru1Ond8MVX20uDjNG3hcd6vsAKmUv1dWrYqYKZJfZFwp4sz10/s320/DSC03406.JPG" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've been working a lot lately with two of the thirtyseven factors of enlightenment, as they're called. Patience and Perseverence. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Back in July, when I was at the monastery, Sayalay recommended two hours a day of meditation based on my "constitution." Since then I've been working my way up to that, but it is hard to (a) find the time and (b) keep my butt on the cushion for that long. What I've found is that she's right -- I do need two hours. Have I met that goal yet in one sitting? No. Well, not yet at least. I'm coming close. I'm clocking in just at an hour, sometimes a little more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But it takes a while to get to that quiet, still place. For the first twenty, thirty, even forty minutes of a sit, it's like battling the wind uphill, to wade through the thick current of the mind to a place where there's a clearing. It takes a great deal of perseverence and patience to keep with it, to keep going, in spite of sloth, in spite of restlessness. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">What works the best? For me, I have found that beginning with the feeling of love in the heart works best. It provides a sense of joy, calm, and well-being. It also provides a terrific amount of easily-accessible energy and stamina. For instance, tonight I began my sit focused on Rita. I thought about her, about her pain, and I just began feeling love for her in my heart. I let it swell and build, I breathed it out, invisioned it surrounding her, soothing her, healing her broken sternum, easing her seizing muscles. Whenever the mind began to wander it was so easy to bring it back to the object of love and compassion, because it's for someone whom I feel so strongly. Thus, there was a tremendous wealth of energy to keep going, and an easier advantage of staying on the meditative object.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After some time of this, I turned my attention to the breath. The breath came more and more into focus until it seemed as though I <em>was</em> the breath, and the breath was me. There was nothing other than the breath coming in and the breath going out. The whole of me moved with its movement, with an intensity that only the present moment can unveil. I began to approach the edge of something much deeper than I've seen or been to... I wanted to follow this deepening further, but it's still new to me and so I wasn't able to sustain it for much longer.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've also begun to understand, by way of experiencing, the teaching that virtue is one of the main foundations upon which meditation and concentration rests. Virtue must be something which is constantly cultivated in every moment. Some talk about it as "taking care of the moment." When there is any sort of disturbance within -- such as anger, impatience, aggression, etc -- at any point throughout the day, it creates a rift, a ripple effect if you will, that reverberates into one's meditation time. Imagine yourself to be like a pool of water. Negative emotions are like throwing stones at the pool. The bigger the stone, the bigger and longer the ripple will impact your ability to be calm and smooth inside. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAF06Mf0gulmh70-8QY1Gyaz4SxcOv6oWPb2MEAbV6Sgm2eqlvNhvT_W1e9tnpOkhErmE0gZ01aqyguQ_bkm2H2-DMDchLp4fBgowFOaUEhFzUBYNF-YPbcXHJ6nDEvnCmjB3WWOGq50/s1600/DSC03522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJAF06Mf0gulmh70-8QY1Gyaz4SxcOv6oWPb2MEAbV6Sgm2eqlvNhvT_W1e9tnpOkhErmE0gZ01aqyguQ_bkm2H2-DMDchLp4fBgowFOaUEhFzUBYNF-YPbcXHJ6nDEvnCmjB3WWOGq50/s320/DSC03522.JPG" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-68054642930797467202011-08-26T10:18:00.000-07:002011-08-26T10:38:51.657-07:00Seeds of Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iAqp42wsVzzO0VNC5GaumCvrrlvEwrxkxGBXXznr46_Lot-mztJJwRYckcfV69Z-o-Ij6npGmmQPBg7rwhets3nr8Zl5nkuFShhsv-WBemsM3VXISqjd5TI4DI-hVbMxXK-md8QWO4w/s1600/DSC03426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iAqp42wsVzzO0VNC5GaumCvrrlvEwrxkxGBXXznr46_Lot-mztJJwRYckcfV69Z-o-Ij6npGmmQPBg7rwhets3nr8Zl5nkuFShhsv-WBemsM3VXISqjd5TI4DI-hVbMxXK-md8QWO4w/s320/DSC03426.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We finally had our belated honeymoon, a trip we nearly put off doing all together because of financial considerations. I'm grateful we didn't let money concerns stop us. We discovered a world of adventure together, learned how to rely on one another, trust one another, guide one another. A gentle quietness grew in us that gave way to a terrific, much needed calm and peacefulness.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IVaxXQNIrtw82TIvsSlmQ-5ghQoh9LEBHaBh8_3Jg5k56mTctMlfvrpxHN62cGl7Ru8CFraXn920gg9a4HiE_AooyEqgI-xxYa9ODKmlh2KP0J4NjEVnDnOwfEeInblC4Gfe4Dk1BtU/s1600/DSC03473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IVaxXQNIrtw82TIvsSlmQ-5ghQoh9LEBHaBh8_3Jg5k56mTctMlfvrpxHN62cGl7Ru8CFraXn920gg9a4HiE_AooyEqgI-xxYa9ODKmlh2KP0J4NjEVnDnOwfEeInblC4Gfe4Dk1BtU/s320/DSC03473.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The hikes were arduous, climbing over 2,000 feet nearly straight up the side of bare-backed mountains covered in nettle, sage, fennel, wild flowers, and camomile. We traveled over 30 miles with packs on our backs and blisters on our gritty feet.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cElYdIQx4SNcVs1foNn8IC0W7oKmHlFTnBVd2swLd90OmKtwSxx6h-9TtEjTb14lkOPaUv3mhqaRI6vLnFaIAXs6tSYNUumL4Rqye4gzQrb2jIZ69GRvuyxGJr_zbPNxJMhyphenhyphenoGvKheg/s1600/DSC03491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-cElYdIQx4SNcVs1foNn8IC0W7oKmHlFTnBVd2swLd90OmKtwSxx6h-9TtEjTb14lkOPaUv3mhqaRI6vLnFaIAXs6tSYNUumL4Rqye4gzQrb2jIZ69GRvuyxGJr_zbPNxJMhyphenhyphenoGvKheg/s320/DSC03491.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I often spent the afternoon tracking up the mountain sides in search of wild camomile, making careful clippings and plucking the tissue-soft buds from their stems.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4XFcWLATNqlKYzm3LZUpP-ZWTCkwZO3Lm0U4EypoLBYz0dyqhVMC5FPWJj3w_3FCtRY1tEGtA6KqnH9DNhEbR2ftFy89JIP8zQxlqtJYzCKWvjj3Hw6Hr4Vw3cC4tGHAJYy7e2PztUPE/s1600/DSC03545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4XFcWLATNqlKYzm3LZUpP-ZWTCkwZO3Lm0U4EypoLBYz0dyqhVMC5FPWJj3w_3FCtRY1tEGtA6KqnH9DNhEbR2ftFy89JIP8zQxlqtJYzCKWvjj3Hw6Hr4Vw3cC4tGHAJYy7e2PztUPE/s320/DSC03545.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Often our paths were lined with field after field of wild flowers and herbs, filling our noses with the smell of god's great garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTo52cxEsHzmS0gvUzOXrMFy_yG2iL_8Tp6OkgAABg82KZEP9ett7w-1yCNA7edRDRTbiWVKZmVoSuB02DNpXVTE-XbjnjA5IerKhKE97PPgTsCLfaWlg04xFq8t3INnUtpJy33SUEHnE/s1600/DSC03552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTo52cxEsHzmS0gvUzOXrMFy_yG2iL_8Tp6OkgAABg82KZEP9ett7w-1yCNA7edRDRTbiWVKZmVoSuB02DNpXVTE-XbjnjA5IerKhKE97PPgTsCLfaWlg04xFq8t3INnUtpJy33SUEHnE/s320/DSC03552.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Some mornings the mist from the sea would fill the mountain crevices, blanketing everything in a cool fog. It was eerie and beautiful and full of such moving silence...</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsIOEPTSO0ZBBNrLHXjAwxreqxUS7Vr97yPlvaOnkiV3nh3sEr9iO8bO-mttqiDyGlced-NBes1gV6QXQjexQpGFzpYNtrw6yWY7KSM5QvX6S9DeETAzgcExTmXTJcQuFn2Mky8jGzN8/s1600/DSC03583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsIOEPTSO0ZBBNrLHXjAwxreqxUS7Vr97yPlvaOnkiV3nh3sEr9iO8bO-mttqiDyGlced-NBes1gV6QXQjexQpGFzpYNtrw6yWY7KSM5QvX6S9DeETAzgcExTmXTJcQuFn2Mky8jGzN8/s320/DSC03583.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By mid-afternoon the fog would break free and the skies opened up to a glorious, crisp view of the ragged ocean far below. Much of the sea gave off an intense aqua color because of all of the gorgeous green serpentine rock.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXJwKRqHKMZkPLhAoNfw3KnJgW94loB009D3v16Zhg0l618iAZrCHxhWEX2Z4prcKRRbRsxh0Q62XnfXagmnea8fiZgLcXrLS4H8Sp6Is2vYvV0v5mFxuXmeNh69TZioB-Y8foS2Y5WGA/s1600/DSC03543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXJwKRqHKMZkPLhAoNfw3KnJgW94loB009D3v16Zhg0l618iAZrCHxhWEX2Z4prcKRRbRsxh0Q62XnfXagmnea8fiZgLcXrLS4H8Sp6Is2vYvV0v5mFxuXmeNh69TZioB-Y8foS2Y5WGA/s320/DSC03543.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By late afternoon fog could be seen gathering again like smoke rising from the sea towards the mountains, reminding us of the all too recent wildfires that swept through the ancient Ventana -- a site just 20 miles from the Tassajara, where a group of zen monks gaurded their forest monastery against the flames that claimed so much in 2006.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzAUWXC9aDCQiKCha98V8irhaxClg44lpb7K75iW9c1UIBG1iDZuUhZXfJRcw7Ry6Z05ILRfm0G7TDbUhNqVpGEOIOtcmoR2AotBcMTrQkquMX8eryIMtPaSpEVdb0y0uHGscnQcBvmUU/s1600/DSC03604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzAUWXC9aDCQiKCha98V8irhaxClg44lpb7K75iW9c1UIBG1iDZuUhZXfJRcw7Ry6Z05ILRfm0G7TDbUhNqVpGEOIOtcmoR2AotBcMTrQkquMX8eryIMtPaSpEVdb0y0uHGscnQcBvmUU/s320/DSC03604.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The trip was a remarkable journey. I united with my best friend, soul-mother, Rita. For fifteen years we have held between us an indescribably close relationship. Spiritual and profound, meaningful and prophetic, even rescuing at times... all built over countless letters, emails, and occasional phone conversations. Seeing her for the first time brought me to my knees, literally. I cried and kissed her head and listened to her for hours upon hours. I breathed her in and felt so much love flowing between us. Our presence together had a magical, healing effect -- not only for her, but for me as well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I also really enjoyed meditating deep in the redwood valleys, or perched at the edge of a mountain overlooking valleys and ocean. We had the great fortune of hiking through Big Sur while the full moon grew in the sky, reaching her peak on our third day in, and waning as we made our way back out of the forest. The way her light illuminates the forest and the mountains fills me with awe and amazement. It is so much easier to become concentrated and quiet in the deep of the forest. It is much harder returning to the city with the trains and the traffic and the demands of home and work. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Nonetheless, we pick up where we left off. The new semester has begun. I'll be volunteering with hospice starting next week. Already the inner-workings of the psychology program have begun to fill my mind with introspection and reflection. Last night I worked on my personal loss history for psychology of loss. Creating such a heavy inventory brought a lot of 'ah-ha' moments as connections became clearer between life-moments of growth and regression. To look back and see this tangled string of losses and how they steered who I was to become from day to day, life to life, I'm finding a new sense of self-compassion and forgiveness. I am also seeing how every person I come into contact with has such losses in their histories, too, and this fills me with even deeper compassion for our shared humanity -- our shared pain.</div><br />
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</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-19217395232688395822011-08-04T11:40:00.000-07:002011-08-04T11:40:11.074-07:00Dog Days<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfv7lrF8tl1ef8Z8HX1W_quazhr8uoegDWwFWw1Nu1d9oW8o1CCyrxO4ygDUOiNtw-6PCa_2BYtQ2k_xpfz7xPaDIuqB4qn9L0-7jD_HZOO_wMB4JUDuvT1ptyXtzx8bEzgaZX4w4sDk/s1600/DSC03373.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfv7lrF8tl1ef8Z8HX1W_quazhr8uoegDWwFWw1Nu1d9oW8o1CCyrxO4ygDUOiNtw-6PCa_2BYtQ2k_xpfz7xPaDIuqB4qn9L0-7jD_HZOO_wMB4JUDuvT1ptyXtzx8bEzgaZX4w4sDk/s320/DSC03373.JPG" /></a> </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIRxhOKbHJ2AaqxWibl-6yycSvommxpgomgjV-CqVi3keDVNaMftBepxyxjVASrN3F9U0n1NFRqdAbRK3_7xZsj8qAEl6y3wrNc0d-M4fCLBgc9KsvqqmlLSqxaRIOCI7hY0uWpyTn5o/s1600/DSC03376.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIRxhOKbHJ2AaqxWibl-6yycSvommxpgomgjV-CqVi3keDVNaMftBepxyxjVASrN3F9U0n1NFRqdAbRK3_7xZsj8qAEl6y3wrNc0d-M4fCLBgc9KsvqqmlLSqxaRIOCI7hY0uWpyTn5o/s320/DSC03376.JPG" /></a><br />
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This has been one of the hottest July's I can remember. Humid + Muggy. To cool off, I borrowed some dried lavender and a delicious recipe from my best friend and sworn soul twin. Have I mentioned how amazingly wonderful it is to have her so near again? Memories come flooding back... nostalgic for my "free" days as a teenager in some sense, but also grateful for a different kind of freedom that comes with wisdom and age. Though our lives have progressed in very different ways outwardly, on the inside, I still feel the oneness I've always felt with her. It's a nebulous feeling that is beyond my capacity to write about in a way that captures the true depth or essence. When she so much as blinks her eyelashes, I feel as though I too, have just blinked. When she breathes in, I feel it in my chest. Beautiful, and strange, and untouchable. It is special to me; sacred. This bond.</div><br />
<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7jJOUbPbH0iPOCwGM1bqM_tiaqp1bw64pXRJZ-HgkNu2H-qPrQ-nVniGEji2ddsjauJ5-JOSu1WfitS3S8Ka3frlsmGC9yDIkqXFNN6BGK05scX4KIFM8H9BfjFoGSZRHv2A3hBcEsw/s1600/DSC03379.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7jJOUbPbH0iPOCwGM1bqM_tiaqp1bw64pXRJZ-HgkNu2H-qPrQ-nVniGEji2ddsjauJ5-JOSu1WfitS3S8Ka3frlsmGC9yDIkqXFNN6BGK05scX4KIFM8H9BfjFoGSZRHv2A3hBcEsw/s320/DSC03379.JPG" /></a><br />
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The lemonade, though following the exact same recipe, tasted different from hers somehow. Mine had more punch to it from the citrus, while hers was much more fragrant in the lavender. I invited the ladies over and shook the lemonade with rosemary and cucumber vodka.... a perfect summertime cocktail I dubbed "the herbalist." Unfortunately, the cocktail seemed to lack the intense aromas of the herbs I envisioned it showcasing.<br />
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We spent the evening doing what typical, and non-typical women do: chatting about failed relationships, stupid men, personal and professional insecurities. We laughed a lot and ate Jessica's amazing gluten-free coconut cake, brought out the old beloved "birthday book" of astrology, and I gave tarot readings.<br />
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Alone the next day, I decided to do a reading of my own. The cards point to stability in the home, financial security, and spiritual cultivation as well as integrity and the taming of one's animal nature. It also suggested my husband and I would have two sons -- possibly twins. I wanted to know if I should expect that last one sooner or later, but I could not get a read off of the last question. To be completely honest, I'm okay with later -- I really am. I'm also okay with just one child, which is something I never thought I'd say. </div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0YKGlKHYH2fZkXbYDJY65RKGpejzURfRYc5LyqBwaz_3AT8GUu08FYvV6Goy3gHuynQohuQqthddZk8E0LADmhps6uRVqc7j2fAQ1qcTqEbUUk8dJfQ0uMs7iqoRV8jm-fZWkfV2IUc/s1600/DSC03386.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH0YKGlKHYH2fZkXbYDJY65RKGpejzURfRYc5LyqBwaz_3AT8GUu08FYvV6Goy3gHuynQohuQqthddZk8E0LADmhps6uRVqc7j2fAQ1qcTqEbUUk8dJfQ0uMs7iqoRV8jm-fZWkfV2IUc/s320/DSC03386.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As the heavy heat continues to sit like a fat man on a park bench over Atlanta, I'm staying indoors and making things to cool us off. Mint iced tea and avocado gazpacho. <br />
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And as for the practice, well.... I've given myself a day's break. I've felt recently as though I've been too close to the pratice, my face pressed up against the mirror in order to make out my whole image: all I've been able to see is my nose, and mistaking two eyes for one. Sometimes it helps to give it a little space, a little breathing room. Relax, take a step back.... and gain a little more perspective. Then go back to the cushion.</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-40767657176048751312011-07-29T22:00:00.000-07:002011-07-29T22:04:23.279-07:00Experimenting<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRa66pbVqgs3cqZ0_noBrhTKiFN8fyWv50LQlAqbqUhnBwK8qgTF0tzTV-xVNueWtYKFp-VOQ71BT376ZgngPQQLpQ-RXwAYbkHIo16WTrtpoMDtJXoOusioW1j9dUKcujsJLRGBeG4Js/s1600/DSC03370.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRa66pbVqgs3cqZ0_noBrhTKiFN8fyWv50LQlAqbqUhnBwK8qgTF0tzTV-xVNueWtYKFp-VOQ71BT376ZgngPQQLpQ-RXwAYbkHIo16WTrtpoMDtJXoOusioW1j9dUKcujsJLRGBeG4Js/s320/DSC03370.JPG" /></a><br />
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Originally, I made the meditation nook in the office corner, beneath a window. For a few weeks I've been sitting there in the mornings, mid-afternoon, and evening. It's been noisy, but bearable. There is the railroad tracks and the marta rail line, there are cars passing by, neighbors using electric saws, hammers, leaf blowers. I've been trying to use these as meditation ques to dig deeper into concentration. For the most part, I've been successful. Until I started noticing car <em>stereos. </em>Even these wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for that one car just a few days ago, blasting at full decible that awful screaming song from ten years ago whose lyrics yell as follows: "I hate everything about you." What band was that? A perfect circle?<br />
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What an awful mantra to get stuck in one's head! So, I decided it might be a good idea to experiment with moving the meditation spot to a quieter, more peaceful room. We have a hallway that we don't use because we enter and exit the house from the back rather than from the front. Initially, we were thinking we'd use the space for extra storage -- sort of as a walk-in closet. It's perfect in that the hallway closes off with two doors, making it rather private. So at the last minute this afternoon, just before work, I pulled all of the junk out of the closet and set to decorating it for meditation. I added a small shrine, hung my favorite antique tapestry, and lit incense to bless the space. Though there are no vents for the air conditioning in there, but it will be an experiment worth trying in the search for the right spot to sit. <br />
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In other experiments, here is a silly little painting I slapped together this week at a painting class downtown. My sister talked me into it and we had a blast! The colors seem a bit too tropical, but I enjoy seeing the art that comes out of me. It's always a surprise. Now it, too, is hanging in the new meditation area.</div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV6W7yeNjwDxcT6iRYe5um1yGtWClS7Y247PtOtVuBFlXn8dHqzEZC3_oJ5kVvhtnNZCGyObhUh_WnknLp5Lanv5TldT9iaWxUjbGEglrB1DAaQ01HwDNr4ege2iBGjLBxAUn_0_76PQ/s1600/DSC03372.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdV6W7yeNjwDxcT6iRYe5um1yGtWClS7Y247PtOtVuBFlXn8dHqzEZC3_oJ5kVvhtnNZCGyObhUh_WnknLp5Lanv5TldT9iaWxUjbGEglrB1DAaQ01HwDNr4ege2iBGjLBxAUn_0_76PQ/s320/DSC03372.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-18079507212777349252011-07-23T13:34:00.000-07:002011-07-23T13:34:55.297-07:00Do What's Right For You<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBrnSE4CGH9z-TfX7PCxPx8X4Vtkk3TD_retoN3omzj0Vig6dLtnrvq1v__UauEi1UTfJPCZsds6Oex1UEzLvUlxsh6ErLvqE9eULTZtprvDPXyr0Gul30oBsXqmLxsSzWsVqnSQ6HKI/s1600/DSC03285.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBrnSE4CGH9z-TfX7PCxPx8X4Vtkk3TD_retoN3omzj0Vig6dLtnrvq1v__UauEi1UTfJPCZsds6Oex1UEzLvUlxsh6ErLvqE9eULTZtprvDPXyr0Gul30oBsXqmLxsSzWsVqnSQ6HKI/s320/DSC03285.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've found many great sources for guidance lately. First and foremost, Bhante G's book <u>Mindfulness in Plain English</u>. Never before has any one person put the how-to of meditation practice into such easily accessible terms. He writes about it so clearly, with a certain pointed simplicity that is actually incredibly profound. <br />
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This <a href="http://www.dharmaseed.org/">website</a> also contains a wonderful wealth of guidance and inspiration. There is an enormous collection of talks by one of my very favorite dhamma teachers, Ayya Khema. Listening to one of her talks today gave me just that one tiny little nudge in the direction I need and it has made all the difference. <br />
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Having a plethera of dhamma writings at one's disposal is a real gift and blessing. At the same time, it can also have its downside. We can get caught up in one teaching, in one method, in one way of doing things because we read about it and it said "this is the way to concentration! you must do this!" that we actually hem ourselves in and become bound and stuck in the practice. Ironic, isn't it? <br />
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This is exactly where I was heading. Stifling myself. Trying to hard to concentrate on those nostrils, <em>just watch the nostril, feel the nostril</em>!, that everything started to become stale and lifeless. Where did the joy go that I so recently knew? <br />
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Ayya Khema says in her talk that there are so many methods for attaining concentration. Do what works for you! Did I really needed to be reminded of this very simple fact? Yes, yes I sure did. Do what works for you. <br />
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What works for me is sitting down, closing my eyes, touching the breath lightly with my mind, and tapping right into that inner experience of simple being. What about that concentration method of noticing the nostrils? It's still there, but it's not the absolute, total, and complete focus. I'm not straining my brain to watch it. It's just there. Easy. So I let go of it, just a little, just enough to feel the being-ness that is here, constantly, peacefully abiding inside. <em>That's </em>what works for me. That's where the peace lives, the loving-kindness, and the insight. </div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-70643578526947214972011-07-20T16:37:00.000-07:002011-07-20T16:37:55.664-07:00Faith in Ourselves<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1FpnirNSBRUcQmwyDKONKVcBz3vpTVplmgDwSVgyJ64ShxsAw4-qeuyU8KOO7c9SKB_VBnWpwxj1tYzrYdnUQ1Vr0UU1w2fnrDq_zLvzRepHeiXWu8yBTSLtVHyhjd_0ZFEXmx48tPo/s1600/DSC03357.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1FpnirNSBRUcQmwyDKONKVcBz3vpTVplmgDwSVgyJ64ShxsAw4-qeuyU8KOO7c9SKB_VBnWpwxj1tYzrYdnUQ1Vr0UU1w2fnrDq_zLvzRepHeiXWu8yBTSLtVHyhjd_0ZFEXmx48tPo/s320/DSC03357.JPG" /></a><br />
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Kudzu antique store on the way to the dekalb farmer's market has a special way of tugging at my heart's desires. After much successful suppression, the husband and I finally gave in and went paroosing. The little birdie mirror above won me over completely! Simple. Elegant. Charming.</div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYSXA2dXPcCxbncCFIjBYeRxPtlFBuj-r5tG7As-jBaa7vQQawhjbSJzMpketh3Pww2zNCiDsyiTM2vQYGNnlvJrSbe-wVhl0BLMElPeCvzzItSa0kPEIUKu5seQ7OSiJlH1126CBRI4/s1600/DSC03360.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYSXA2dXPcCxbncCFIjBYeRxPtlFBuj-r5tG7As-jBaa7vQQawhjbSJzMpketh3Pww2zNCiDsyiTM2vQYGNnlvJrSbe-wVhl0BLMElPeCvzzItSa0kPEIUKu5seQ7OSiJlH1126CBRI4/s320/DSC03360.JPG" /></a><br />
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Continuing the "mirror motif," as J has affectionately called our current obsession with mirrors in unexpected places, we also discovered this piece to complete the dining room ensemble.</div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-h1yjMx_nhN_aHdhcZrAAwolv77SgP5lZMVpFZ8JiGffQhoqtGiHQOEkJvXbEeYRDplO83TYYzliCOwCKOVnGlvF30Wx-2IEfHAtOhB6p4vAP7-s1cW9Yv2TGEbpP5kqRuku7d8-lOU/s1600/DSC03361.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-h1yjMx_nhN_aHdhcZrAAwolv77SgP5lZMVpFZ8JiGffQhoqtGiHQOEkJvXbEeYRDplO83TYYzliCOwCKOVnGlvF30Wx-2IEfHAtOhB6p4vAP7-s1cW9Yv2TGEbpP5kqRuku7d8-lOU/s320/DSC03361.JPG" /></a><br />
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On another, more thoughtful note, we discovered our very first tomato sproutling. As previously mentioned, there are three plants, each of a different tomato variety. For weeks now we have watched two of the tomato plants take off to the sky, while one lingered sadly behind -- barely growing at all. We were afraid it'd end up a dud. Despite our best efforst, despite sufficient sunlight, good healthy soil, and constant watering, our faith in this one runt of the litter threatened to wane. <br />
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Wouldn't you know it.... that little runt tomato plant is the first of the three to bare its fruit.<br />
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It's easy to lose faith. It's essential to keep it. This tomato plant is reminding me of a good and valuable lesson aptly timed for my path at this moment. Have faith in yourself, in your ability to grow and progress. Have faith in your natural abilities. Believe that there is blue sky behind the clouds, even if you cannot yet see it. Meditation can be such a challenge, and if it does not bare fruit quickly we may begin to doubt it and our ability to be successful with it. But if all of the right ingredients are there -- sunlight, diligent watering, careful pruning, and a healthy dose of love and attention -- growth will come. It's the natural law of the universe. <br />
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Have faith in yourself! It is one of the strongest currents that will pull you through.</div><br />
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<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxkd6yhNzTpniyiip3VT3AF7A152OAcBX7xOX2pH-BTOrFHGsoQqy4QcKbxjWvBnB336AMm2QTCopQx8p73qqlJ9NVWhl8vX2HIIkKPsHrk3fcG_rheg6xRNLYV25Hn506PtxqZ9AX7k/s1600/DSC03362.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxkd6yhNzTpniyiip3VT3AF7A152OAcBX7xOX2pH-BTOrFHGsoQqy4QcKbxjWvBnB336AMm2QTCopQx8p73qqlJ9NVWhl8vX2HIIkKPsHrk3fcG_rheg6xRNLYV25Hn506PtxqZ9AX7k/s320/DSC03362.JPG" /></a> </div><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; background: 0% 50%; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" /></a></div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1464535585009714955.post-66839398923682550102011-07-17T07:18:00.000-07:002011-07-17T07:19:49.648-07:00Where I Go...."<em>Well I go to the river to soothe my mind, ponder over these crazy days of my life. Sit and watch the river flow."</em> Natalie Merchant<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoboTjCJHfBXXHyBl-0_fcE3v2HQ6FUpqdYx2Ah3Dh3V-HylX-0M0nL_x2KAXP6Bg2GqSXGTJptOC9Wn0v8oIkMZVanFzH-S5XWaQwUqlWze3yl8I8pluM0AbzNU_ftGbtrhUqYjEkG0/s1600/medihall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoboTjCJHfBXXHyBl-0_fcE3v2HQ6FUpqdYx2Ah3Dh3V-HylX-0M0nL_x2KAXP6Bg2GqSXGTJptOC9Wn0v8oIkMZVanFzH-S5XWaQwUqlWze3yl8I8pluM0AbzNU_ftGbtrhUqYjEkG0/s320/medihall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is the meditation hall at the women's retreat. I pulled an older photo from the <a href="http://www.bhavanasociety.org/">website</a>. There've been changes since. The carpet is no longer there, having been replaced by a smooth white cement floor which illuminates the room in a gorgeous, bright way that helps light up the mind. The way the light bounces from all directions in the room, it stimulates the mind when the eyes are closed to feel as though you are awake, aware, and instantly present.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The retreat last week was nothing short of amazing. It nurished me, deepened me, broke open my heart, and planted both of my feet firmly on the path. I feel I've talked so much about it in the last few days since being home that I find it hard to write about it now. So I'll move more into the present.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The evening I returned home was only hours following my ordination by Bhante in the eight lifetime precepts. The ceremony I took part in was so powerful. I felt totally gripped by the spirit in ways that are difficult to articulate. The most magical moment for me was immediately following the precepts, when I'd been given my pali name, had a mindfulness string tied to my wrist and a madallion placed around my neck. I crawled back to my meditation cushion at the feet of Bhante G, Ayya S and Sayalay S, with the other retreatents behind me. Bhante then began leading everyone else through the five precepts, and I closed my eyes, falling fast and deep into metta absorption. My mind was so clear and relaxed, and my entire being glowed with love and warmth for my sisters taking their five precepts. I wished them courage and strength on their path, love and happiness in their hearts, and calm, peaceful minds. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It was this final meditation at the monastery, my last and most natural (and most profoundly real), which followed me back home and transformed me. The moment I walked in the front door the extent to which I had changed and was at that moment wide open and radiating love, was so utterly poignant. I looked at my husband and as we spoke I could see him, truly <em>see</em> him. I felt so much love flowing through me that evening that even though I'd been awake for 22 hours, having done the entire ceremony, meditated, and drove 10 hours home, I longed with all my heart to simply go right into meditation for the rest of the night and into the dawn. The moon was full and bright in the kitchen window. I looked up into the glowing sky and felt pure exstacy, my vision somehow wider at the perifery.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I knew it would fade with time. It had to, because that is the nature of all things. Until that space has been cultivated and stabilized as a mind habit through continual daily meditation -- which may take years -- it can only stay for a little while. And this is part of the dhamma, isn't it? That all things are impermanent. That we can hold nothing, for everything, every single particle of existence, is in constant movement, flux, and flow. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And so, some meditations are productive, while some are not. I've been finding lately that my morning sessions are more of a challenge, while the evenings are more substantial and accessible. I struggle. Sometimes mindfulness is so easily available. Sometimes sitting is like repeatedly almost falling into a sleepy dream, which is the opposite of mindfulness and not meditation. I know that this too, must be taken up and used in the practice, but it is hard not to react, to not add in a sense of aversion or frustration. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It will take some more time, and some thoughtful exerpimenting, to find how the practice will fit into my life here in the city, which is drastically different from the peace and tranquility I found in the mountains last weekend. Rousing my energy up there was easier, even at 430am every morning. Here, it is much more difficult. Lethargy weighs more in the morning. Distractions are in abundance.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But when it's good, it's been <em>real</em> good. Like last night, coming home from spending the evening with my best friend, my heart so warm and open with love, melted and soft inside. I went right to the cushion and fell easily into a calm, concentrated space. I felt I could have stayed there for hours...</div>Anomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00470854910435300475noreply@blogger.com1