In a Rut

As I walked up Alton Parkway this morning a little after 8:30, I saw a whitetail buck cross the street about half a block ahead.  As I continued up the street, a doe came toward me across one of the large lawns.  Soon I saw another, and a half grown fawn.

It is deer mating season, the rut.  It would be unusual to see deer out in the neighborhood this late in the morning at other times of year, but this is the second fall in a row that I've seen bucks in this area, which is several blocks away from the more secluded Sligo Creek Park.

I'm just a couple of blocks from our house, and it wouldn't be surprising if these were the same deer that have feasted on our hostas, tomatoes, and strawberries over the summer.

As I watched them, alternatively browsing and looking around, I thought about how simple their existence seemed, but how similar it was to mine at the core.  To survive, they need to get enough to eat, and they need to be alert to their environment and avoid harm.

We have devised entire systems of production and distribution to efficiently deliver the food we need, so that we can consume it during relatively short, regular meal times.  But if that wasn't the case, we would, like the deer, be intently focused on where the next meal would be found.

The deer are alert to danger in their environment.  The biggest threat to these urban deer is one that they are least equipped to deal with -- the speeding automobile.  But they are still very alert to the sights, sounds, and smells around them, and their innate, protective fear is readily apparent and motivates much of their behavior.

Likewise, a great deal of our behavior is motivated by fear.  We have controlled our environment to limit the natural hazards, but we replace them with internalized fears.  Fear of failure, fear of making the boss unhappy, fear that we will miss an opportunity, fear of being left out, fear of being alone.  There is no end to the general and specific fears that we carry in our psyches.

After a car passed, one of the does noticed me and became a little more agitated.  Soon the does and the fawn moved off through the shrubbery and jumped a fence into an empty lot.  As I walked farther up the street, I passed by a patch of bushes and trees that had hidden the buck from my view.  There he was, out in the middle of the yard in full daylight, his normal wariness mostly overcome by the hormones pushing him to mate -- the imperative to avoid danger replaced by the imperative to reproduce.  Another car came by and turned in the driveway.  The buck trotted off in the direction the does had gone, and I continued on my walk to work.

Society - Where To, and How?

I recently read an article by Cynthia Gorney about Cuba, in the November 2013 issue of National Geographic.  In describing the changes occurring in that society, she says -

"... the questions modern Cuba sets off in a visitor are big, serious, unwieldy.  What is the definition of freedom?  What do human beings need?  What do they owe to each other?  What do they want, beyond what they need?"

Big questions, indeed.  And it seems to me that these very same questions lie at the root of the conflicting narratives both about the current state of society in the United States, and the corresponding visions of the future.  

Should the government, which represents our collective society, have programs to improve access to health care?  Should there be "safety net" social programs?  If so, how extensive should they be?  Is there a way to provide assistance that doesn't create dependency?  If not, is it better to have some level of dependency in the society than to have policies that result in chronic hunger or untreated disease?

Is some level of wealth redistribution through taxation and social programs a good thing because it helps ensure some basic level of food and health security and educational opportunities that some would not otherwise have?  Or is it an evil, amounting to stealing from people who earn the wealth.

I don't think there is any right answer.  I do think that positions on either extreme are, well, just that -- and that the best we can hope to do as a society lies somewhere nearer to the middle than to the ends.

I would like our society to grapple with these questions in an open and respectful dialog, honestly identifying and acknowledging the tradeoffs and consequences, rather than having them buried underneath agendas of political power seeking.

Is it possible, in our political system, that we can stop rewarding bad behavior, and get a new generation of political leaders that can help us find our way to the balance of individual freedom and collective responsibility and accountability that serves us all the best?

If not, perhaps some fundamental reform in the system itself is needed.  If that is true, and the system is incapable of correcting its own dysfunction, than we are in for a very rocky future.

Beginner's Mind

In physical exercise, it is helpful to vary exercises because the body quickly adapts to any particular exercise reducing its effectiveness.  I think the mind is even quicker to adapt - to turn a new and exciting discovery into a routine thing that can be ignored, taken for granted.

Turning a complacent mind - one that thinks it knows and understands the world around it - into a beginner's mind - one that is seeing as if for the first time - is a wonderful thing.   The complacent mind is easily bored - the beginner's mind cannot possibly be bored.

I had aspirations to rise early on clear mornings and go look at the stars.  Yet when I woke this morning about 5, what I really wanted to do was to stay in bed.  It took a bit of mental effort, but soon I had my shoes and coat on and headed out the door, and what a fine morning it was.  Clear, with the temperature just above freezing, but no wind at all.

I brought binoculars with me, as I wanted to get a better look at the Orion Nebula and the Pleiades.  The Orion Nebula is considerably farther away, and don't reveal much at binocular magnification.  The Pleiades, on the other hand, just leapt out of the sky, turning from a faint blur into a pattern of distinct stars, like a setting of jewels.

I'm enjoying this slow exploration of the night sky immensely.  The moon was rising near a triangle of 3 stars I had noticed before in the east, about halfway between Orion overhead to the south, and Ursa Major to the North.  With the moon as a marker, and checking the Analemma Society's online star chart, I was able to clearly place the triangle of stars in the constellation Leo.

A little reading about the Pleiades and the Orion Nebula led to information about another star cluster - the Beehive cluster, which is in the constellation Cancer.  Now I have another thing to look for in the morning, as Cancer lies between Orion and Leo.

As I get more and more of this mapped in my mind, I want to keep beginner's mind, so that I am always seeing as if for the first time, and never becoming complacent to the wonders around and above me.

Awesomeness of the Sun

The sun - do you take it for granted?  I do.  It's always there, in the sky, pouring light and heat down on us, though sometimes a blanket of clouds is laid over and blocks our view.  Even then, we know it's there by the gray light that distinguishes even the cloudiest of days from the night.

We're even complacent about it's overwhelming power.  We learn, as little kids, that even from 93 million miles away and through the protection of our atmosphere we can't look at the sun directly without causing severe harm to our sight.  But how often do we even think about that?  It is just one of our many habits.

Today I saw a news item about some recent solar flares, and the photos just overwhelmed me.  Here are a couple.

Link to the full size image

The beauty of this glowing ball hanging in black space is astonishing.  What really knocks me out is the quality of dynamism, the energy and motion, that are conveyed even in these "still" images. Unfathomable power leaps from the image.   We know that this star is essential to our life.  It is 4.57 billion years old, and has provided every bit of energy that has supported all life on earth, from the dawn.

Is it possible to not stand in awe and wonder?

A Too Full Day

What do you do on a day that just has too much going on?  Today was one of those days.

I'm in a yoga teacher training program that meets one weekend a month, for 12 hours of instruction spread from Friday evening to Sunday mid-day.  It is, at the same time, challenging, stimulating, and energy draining.

I'm also president of a composers' group that writes and presents new music, and this evening was our fall concert.  I had agreed to help our concert director with logistics, from opening the venue through the reception at the end and finally, closing up.  I needed to be there at 5:30 pm and wouldn't be home until about 11 pm.  The timing of the two events would also disrupt both our normal lunch and dinner

Pam and I (she is also in phase I of the YTT program) came home at 1:30 both hungry and out of energy, our heads stuffed full of information to digest.  I had decided to cook an early dinner, and it was the perfect activity to help me unwind from teacher training and get physically and mentally fortified for the long evening.

Peeling sweet potatoes, slicing apples, grinding nutmeg, chopping pecans - tactile, sensory, physical activity connecting my energy with the foods that would soon be nourishing us.  Loosely referring to recipes, I put the meal together.  Pork chops with a topping made from dried cherries, dried apricots, and red wine.  A baked apple and sweet potato dish, garnished with pecans and spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg.  Sauteed vegetables - onion, green pepper, potatoes, and broccoli - my favorite way to use whatever vegetables are handy.  For desert, we had a couple of the brownies I baked for the concert reception.  A complete and very satisfying meal, both in the eating, and in the preparation.

The concert went well, and though tired, I was able to enjoy the music and reconnecting with other composers and musicians.  I'm glad that I understand how engaging in a chore like preparing a meal can be beneficial on many levels.  Making dinner was the most important thing I did today.

How Action Beats Anxiety

One of the worst feelings I’ve experienced is the feeling of being completely overwhelmed with things that “need” to be done. At its worst, I’m just caged in anxiety about not being able to get them all done, not knowing what to do next, and unable to see a solution.

Once, some years ago, after finding myself in that space, I took a baby step – I started to work on the simplest of the tasks – and found that the simple act of doing – even though it was only addressing a tiny piece of the real or imagined burdens – immediately made me feel better. The key out of being stuck in anxiety and inaction was simply to do something.

That awareness gave me a reliable tool that I used many times since, when I found myself sinking and unable to cope. Find something, anything no matter how minor, and begin to work on it. Two things happen right away. By moving the mind from anxiety to action, I shift from a state of fear (anxiety) to a state of engagement and problem solving. I am also better able to assess the real priority and importance of the tasks, and they are never as overwhelming as I had feared.

I don’t have that experience of overwhelming anxiety nearly as much anymore. When it does start to appear, I’m usually aware of it well before it completely wraps around me, and I move into action. Sometimes I have that feeling when I first awake, before my mind is able to move out of the timeless sleep state and reorient all the spinning stuff into the framework of time and action.

Interestingly, a reliable way to disperse the cloud is to meditate – which in one sense is doing nothing – at least in terms of taking action to complete an item on the to-do list. But meditating is, in reality, very deep and focused action for the mind. There’s an appropriate thought that I’ve seen on the internet attributed as an “Old Zen adage.” Regardless of the actual source, the truth in it is clear.

“You should sit in meditation for twenty minutes every day—unless you're too busy; then you should sit for an hour.” –Old Zen adage

I have yet to meet a person who meditates who doesn’t agree with that idea. Whatever amount of time is needed to bring the mind to a state that is not “too busy” will reward you by bringing clarity and focus to the rest of the day.

Anniversary

Today marks Pam and my 12th wedding anniversary. Two threads emerge as I think about that time. One is how much has changed. When we married, we lived in Alaska. We had no inkling that we would move to the east coast in a few years. We have traveled to Australia, Europe, Belize and Mexico. None of our children were married (4 are now), and we had no grandchildren (currently 6). Much can change in 12 years.

The other thread is one of constancy in the heart of our relationship. I feel that it has broadened and deepened over the years, but is constant in the basic nature of love and respect. I appreciate Pam's patience and support, and she continues to impress me with her determination and willpower.

For the past two years we have enjoyed learning about yoga and developing our own unique, but connected, yoga practices. We enjoy taking classes together, and help each other learn new things. Through this, we also learn more about each other.

We celebrated by taking off work for the day and going to the Smithsonian to see an exhibit called "Yoga: the Art of Transformation" that opened about a week ago. I came away impressed by the deep and diverse set of practices called yoga. They too have gone through many changes. The path from early yoga in India to the current modern asana practice is long and complex, and can almost seem as if nearly everything has changed except the name.

To unite, or yoke, is one definition of yoga. Marriage is a uniting as well. Yoga is a practice of uniting mind and body, and the individual with the universe. Marriage is a practice uniting two people in loving, trusting relationship.

Happy Anniversary, Pam!

Signs of Transition

Today seemed to mark the transition to autumn in this part of the Mid-Atlantic region. There have been hints and feints over the past several weeks, as color started to appear in the trees, some leaves fell, and the nights got chillier.

The early morning temperature was in the mid 30s, so the air was brisk as I walked to work. But when I left work in the afternoon, it felt even colder, although it was 50 degrees. The sky was gray and a brisk breeze came from the east.

In the spring and the fall, some days are challenging to dress for, as the temperature can change a lot between morning and evening. I especially have to watch for the mornings that seem comfortable with lighter clothing – but by afternoon a cold front or stiff wind will demand more layers. I’ve been caught in a few very chilly walks home.

The forecast is for overnight temperatures in the 30s tonight, with frost in nearby areas, but not closer in to the city where we live. Still, the trees will be quickly turning color now, and in a few weeks will be bare branches, ready for the winter.

I’m reaching a similar time of transition in my life, though it likely will play out over a few years rather than a few weeks. I can sense the transition from my current work, which has been my vocation for 25 years, to retirement, or some other kind of work that will come after.

Like the cooler temperatures and the turning leaves, there are signs - more thoughts about what is next – acceptance, even anticipation, that change is coming. I have a growing realization that while I have been fortunate to have challenging and meaningful work, there are many other things that I am interested in learning about and doing, and the time for doing them is diminishing.

That said, I don’t feel like my leaves are dropping anytime soon. In many ways I feel more fit and energized than I have in many years – yoga is a good practice for physical and mental well-being. But perhaps I can sense my leaves starting to change color a bit, and it’s a sign to be looking ahead to the seasons to come.

The Nature of Us

This week there have been two violent incidents involving students and teachers that trouble me deeply. In one, a 12 year old brought a handgun to a Nevada school and shot two students and then killed a teacher who tried to intervene. In the other, a 14 year old is alleged to have beaten and killed a 24 year old teacher at a Massachusetts high school.

I know there's a tremendous amount of violence every day. I think these incidents especially trouble me because the perpetrators are children, and the violence happened in schools. As I walk to work every day and see parents saying goodbye to their kids as they board the school bus, it is sobering to think that the schools they are going to could be the site of deadly violence.

Our society is too casual about, too accepting, and often too glorifying of violence. We reap what we sow. If we want our society, our schools and workplaces to be safe and free from violence, it is going to take concerted efforts by millions of people and conscious decisions to renounce violence and teach our children other ways to deal with their emotions and resolve conflicts.

I have to start with myself. I recognize that as much as I deplore these violent acts, there is a violent part of my nature. I suspect that every one of us, if we knew our ancestors lives, would find an appalling amount of violence - indeed, all of us are likely here because of violence perpetrated in the past. After all, we are the progeny of survivors, and if they killed in order to survive we inherited the genes that give the capacity, perhaps even the propensity, for that violence.

If violence is a part of my nature, there will be times when, in order to avoid violence, I have to intervene with myself and choose a different path. I need tools in order to be able to do that. I need the ability to recognize my instinctive reactions, my fear, my rage, and I need the ability to step back from that and choose not to act it out violently. This is extraordinarily hard. I believe that my meditation and yoga practice will help me, but I do not expect, if the time ever comes, that it will be anything but a struggle that will take me to the edge.

I wonder if our society can summon the will to fundamentally change its relationship with violence, and teach our children how to choose a better, life respecting, path. Is there any doubt that we desperately need to do that?

I'm a lot older, the stars are still there.

When I was a little kid - my first memories - we lived in a little town in western Kansas called Lewis. 500 people or so. Our house was the only one on the block - the only other building was the Methodist church that my father pastored. Behind the house was an empty field that filled the rest of the block.

I remember standing out in that field once, as a strong plains wind was blowing - arms outstretched, leaning into the wind to see how far I could go and have the wind hold me up. I remember lying on the grass, looking up at clouds and thinking that I couldn't quite see the fantastical animals and other objects described in the childrens' books that we read. I also remember dark, star filled skies, with the glow of the Milky Way stretching across.

I grew up with the space program, the man on the moon, and Star Trek. I learned about space (what people thought they knew, at least) and was always awed by the immensity and incomprehensibility of it, but gradually lost the sense of it as relevant to my life.

I moved to Southeast Alaska for 30 years, which was a fantastic place in many ways, but not so great for star gazing. Much of the year it was cloudy. If it was clear in the summer, it was light from before I got up until after I went to bed. If it was clear in the winter, the stars were bright but it was too damned cold to be outside for long, so none of this was conducive to my staying connected to the night sky.

Now I live in a large city, with lots of what some call "light pollution." But I'm up early a couple of mornings a week on a regular basis, and I'm reacquainting myself with the wonders of at least the brightest stars in the sky. This time of year, as I walk from home southward toward downtown, Orion is high in the middle of the sky, and is my anchor point as I begin to learn to recognize the nearby constellations such as Taurus and Gemini.

I found a time and location specific star map at: http://www.analemma.org/clearskyclock.html that I refer to in the morning to get an image in my head of what to look for as I head out.

It is so interesting to be interested in the sky again. I could just walk and ignore it - and I have on many days over the past 10 years. But the amazing is right there, overhead, waiting for me to pay attention to it and ponder all that life has brought me in the years since I first stood and watched the points of light in the night sky.

Wanting To... Really!

I hadn't intended to do a follow up post on this so quickly (see yesterday's post), but I had the opportunity today to apply the practice at work for the first time, and I was impressed at what a difference it made, both in how I felt about work, and in what I got done.

Throughout the day I kept the concept of doing things because I wanted to in the forefront of my mind. It seemed to simply obliterate one of the mental blocks that sometimes ties me up and keeps me from applying myself to a task.

It also helped me stay focused on one thing at a time and finish it - or make significant progress at least - before getting called off to something else. I wasn't sabotaging myself by seeking distractions from something I didn't really want to do -- because I wanted to do it!

One thing that I worked on most of the afternoon was working on strategic planning objectives - a somewhat complex and mind-tying-up-in-knots exercise that I had either procrastinated on for the past several months - or when I did look at out of a sense that "I have to do this" - quickly became frustrated and found a "happy distraction" to take me away from it.

It seems nice, and a little weird, to be able to say "I only work on things that I want to."

Wanting To

I've been thinking a lot about how to be more positive about life. Much of life is spent in tasks - some amount of time spent in various mental and physical ways that lead to an expected outcome. Cooking dinner, mowing the yard, going to the farmers market, vacuuming the floor, going to a yoga class, writing a blog post ... it goes on and on.

I've observed that sometimes I feel that I "want" to do the task, but often the feeling is that I "need" or "have" to do it. This is especially true at work.

When I want to do something, I have positive energy and apply myself eagerly to the job. But when my starting point is a feeling of need or obligation, I am starting off with negative energy. Sometimes there is even a feeling that what I'm doing is a waste of my time. That isn't an acceptable state - life is too short to waste time.

When I find myself feeling that I need to or have to do something, I'm not going to start the task from that negative energy state. Instead, I will explore it - what is it really about? Why is it important to do? Why do I feel the way I do? - to understand if and why I want to do it. Then I can commence from the space of positive energy and feel good about investing my time.

Farmers Market

For a good part of the year, much of our food comes from the Silver Spring Farmers Market. Saturday morning we go to Ellsworth Street in downtown Silver Spring where the market is set up. We especially like to buy things from Charlie Koiner – an octogenarian with a vegetable farm just about a mile from our house. From Charlie today we got some tomatoes and a beautiful eggplant.

Other vendors come in from rural Maryland, Pennsylvania and West Virginia, with an abundant selection of seasonal fruits and vegetables. Sometimes I’m motivated to try new things. This summer I discovered beets, and found delicious ways to use both the beets and the greens.

A young couple with a farm, who were new to the market this year, promoted turnips as a good companion with potatoes, and I found that to be a good combination, sliced and sautéed.

Often there are musicians performing and a little crowd gathered to listen. Well-behaved dogs (for the most part) are a common sight, and a big attraction to the young children tagging along for the morning shopping.

The available produce marks the passing seasons. A couple of weeks ago we stocked up with as many of the last of the peaches as we thought we could use fresh. Now the market is full of apples – many more varieties than can be found at a supermarket.

In a recent TEDx talk in Toronto, Michael Stone described farmers markets as a series of relationships – the farmers, the community, the rural coming to the city, and the city supporting the rural. Far more than a source of groceries, it is a way for people to connect with the world, at the essential level of the food that we use to nourish ourselves.

Pam and I certainly enjoy the farmers market, the great food we get there, and the sense of community and connection.

A Fresh Taste of the World

One of the great pleasures of my life is that I can walk to work. I have trod roughly the same mile and a quarter path to and from work every day for the past ten years. The streets, houses, trees, lawns and gardens are all familiar.

In a superficial way, I have seen everything there is to see many times, throughout all the seasons. It is easy to tune it out, to assume that I know it and there is nothing new of interest. In reality, I have seen almost none of it.

Over the past two years, I have developed a daily meditation practice. Meditation is about being with myself and being aware, and the resulting changes in my perception and focus carry into the rest of my day. The meditative mind is a receptive mind.

As my awareness deepens, I see much more, and at the same time am correspondingly aware of how little of all of it I see. But instead of being disheartened by a growing sense of how little I truly see and experience, I am buoyed by a refreshed sense of wonder at the world. It is an endlessly fascinating place, if I'm open to it. There seem to be infinite layers, and awareness of one layer simply peels it back to expose the next.

Meditating, being with myself and being aware, helps me be aware in the broader world. It cleanses the palate of my mind so I can taste the world afresh.

Settled and Unsettled

Late last night the political system did as it so often does - wander to the edge of the cliff, teeter a bit, and then find a way to back away from the brink. As a consequence, I awoke to find, when I checked the OPM website, that the operating status of the federal government today was "open," and all employees were to report to work.

It took a bit of energy to crank up the routines of a normal work day. Everything today seemed a little off, a little unsettled. As I walked to work, the sky was gray, the air humid and heavy. I was glad to see the convenience store in my building open - it had been shuttered for at least a week of the shutdown - and I had been concerned about the family proprietors who have served me so graciously for 10 years.

People streamed into work with a lot of positive energy, relieved that the crisis had been averted and glad to be back at their jobs. But I also had a feeling of detachment, as if something had been left behind in the past 16 days.

During the morning, the sky cleared as drier air moved in, and by lunchtime the sun was out and warm, complemented by a fresh, cool breeze. I sat outside for a while, enjoying the day and thinking how useful it is to understand fear.

Left unrecognized and unacknowledged, fear drives and shapes our actions in countless ways. Fear pushes political leaders to say one thing and do another, and to ignore what they know is the right thing to do, hoping the issue will resolve itself in a satisfactory way without them having to take responsibility. Decisions finally get made in the crisis of fears colliding - when the fear of not taking a course of action overwhelms the fear of taking it. Do they recognize their course is set by fear, or do they imagine that they are courageous and brave?

Recognizing that fear motivates many of my actions as well is an important insight. "In this situation, what I am afraid of?" Answering that question allows me to move beyond the fear to an action based on positive intention.

During the afternoon, the sky filled with clouds again, but instead of a solid gray blanket, the clouds formed with shape and space, allowing sunlight to filter through and cast a thousand shades of gray. For a while, sunlight streamed through a larger space, gradually growing far too bright to look at, then fading away as the space closed.

I realized that I was not going to feel completely settled today. The change and turmoil of the past two and a half weeks would take a little longer than that to subside. But today was a good start.

OM and the Etch-a-Sketch Principle

OM is a simple, resonant, droning sound that goes far back in tradition as representing the very sound of creation, the energy that vibrates the universe into being.

Chanting OM is often used in yoga classes and in meditation. But, perhaps because of its association with some religious traditions or mystical spirituality, some practitioners avoid it altogether.

In my own practice, I find it to be a very effective tool for calming my body and mind. I have observed three immediate and beneficial effects.

OM tells me immediately about tension in my body. Tension prevents resonance and free vibration. If my body is calm and relaxed, the vibration resonates strongly and seems to pervade my entire body. Tension blocks the vibration, and I can identify the location of the tension by where the resonance of OM stops.

OM also has a powerful effect on my breath. A common practice is to chant OM three times, starting with a deep breath. After the first OM, the in-breath is noticeably smoother and deeper, and becomes even more so after the second OM. After the third, natural breathing immediately settles in, relaxed and calm.

The mental effect of OM is powerful as well. After chanting OM even just three times, my mind is often as relaxed and quiet as the breath. Whatever jumbled thoughts have been racing around in my head are swept up, replaced with a sense of calm and spaciousness. I think of chanting OM as my meditative equivalent of shaking an Etch-a-Sketch. No matter how jumbled the lines on the Etch-a-Sketch screen, the vibration returns it to a state of fresh possibility, and OM does that for my mind.

Fruits of the Practice

I walked down to the park this afternoon without a specific plan, just to be out in the day.

I decided to sit for a while, and after considering a park bench or a picnic table, thought that I would rather be near the water. I found a place with some large rocks along the creek and picked the flattest one to sit on, which happened to be right by the water.

Sunlight was streaming through the trees and the rock and water running past were brightly lit.

As I settled in, I noticed a water strider on the surface, then several more. As they moved, clusters of fingertip sized shadow dots moved across the brown sand bottom beneath them. The convex dimples of the water’s surface where the striders’ legs rested refracted the light away, like a lens.

The striders ride on their front and back legs, which are supported by the surface tension of the water, with the back legs farther apart than the front. With their middle legs, they row. The shadow patterns on the creek bottom abstracted this into four dark circles that moved as a unit, and two smaller circles, since the paddling legs have less surface contact, moving back and forth as the strider above moved across the water.

As if to show the opposite optic effect, bubbles float by. Their concave surface focuses the light, creating bright dots of concentrated light, a sort of reverse shadow on the sand.

The creek runs up against a slanted log, then burbles over the log and through a gap between two rocks. The bubbles all burst as the water under them accelerates toward the gap. The stream reflects off the bankside rock and lifts up in a bulge, surface as smooth as melted glass, then plunges into the pool below, filling it with new bubbles that spread out and continue downstream.

Feeling complete calm, I close my eyes and breathe. Each time I open my eyes there’s a different painting of light and shadow before me – sometimes subtle, sometimes dramatic. I think about the ever changing nature of things. The creek flows, the sun moves across the sky, the light and shadows are in constant motion.

I am happy to be here, to be able to sit amidst the energy of the earth in this spot as an hour passes by. I think it’s a sign of the fruits of practice – physically, that I can sit cross-legged on a rock by the creek for an hour, and mentally, that I can sit on a rock by the creek for an hour and feel even more interested and fascinated when I arise to go home as when I first sat down.

The Zoom Lens of the Mind

A sparrow is about the commonest of birds. A few inches long, and drab brown, they are easy to dismiss as uninteresting. Today I was presented with a different perspective.

Sitting outside for lunch in downtown Silver Spring, I was gazing down the sidewalk when a flash of movement caught my attention. It was a sparrow, perhaps 15 or 20 feet away, and flying straight at me, wings set, arcing through the air like a little fighter jet. As it dropped slightly, a couple of wing beats propelled it into another glide.

Just about the time I would have flinched, not wanting to get a sparrow beak through my forehead, she flared slightly to the side, and lit on the seat of the chair next me, folding her wings before hopping around to see if we had spilled anything good to eat.

Later, I thought about the amplifying effect of focused awareness. While my eyes don’t have a zoom lens, my mind does. In the split second that my mind focused on the oncoming sparrow, I was distinctly aware of its pointed beak, dark eyes, cylindrical body and glide-set wings, continually growing larger as it approached, a single point of attention blocking out all the other activity along the street.

Then she landed, and was just a small brown bird on a chair.

Lessons from Playing in a Band

Playing in a band can teach a lot about how relationship works, how to communicate and cooperate, and how to make your individual contribution to a greater whole.

I play trumpet and keyboard in a band that plays a variety of blues, country, rock and R&B. Last night we played for a congenial group of people celebrating a couple of birthdays, and the band felt, all around, that we played well. I certainly played the best that I have in the year or so I’ve been with the group.

The band rehearses regularly. Rehearsal isn’t mainly about learning the forms of the songs and how to play the right notes. A large part of the rehearsal effort is learning how the group will function – how we will communicate, how each person understands their role and carries it out, and creating alignment between all the individual concepts of how the music should come out so that there is a coherent performance that the band collectively creates.

I played well last night in part because I had prepared well – I knew my parts and my role in each song. But I also played well because the band was playing well, and that was, in some small part, because I was playing my role well. So there’s a very connected feedback loop between the individual performer and the band – which can reinforce either negatively or positively. With seven people in the band, there are a lot of things at that have to align for the band to truly gel. Last night things headed in the positive direction from the first song and continued throughout the gig.

The relationship between the band and the audience is equally important to the ultimate performance. Appreciation from the audience, whether people say they like the music, or simply dance with enthusiasm, clearly affects how the band performs.

Some things that make the relationship work well were evident last night. First, each person understands their role in the group and performs it well. Playing both keyboard and trumpet, my roles vary by song. I may have a particular part to play on the trumpet that needs to be played “just so,” or I may be playing a solo and have a lot of freedom to improvise. I may be playing a supportive role on the keyboard, playing chords and rhythm to support another solo, or I may have the lead part. Often, the best contribution is to lay out (not play), and just pay close attention to what everyone else is doing.

Second, the band communicates constantly. Attentive and empathetic listening is essential, as the band communicates with itself musically. This keeps the band together and focused on the common creation, and presents opportunities for people to hear where there is another contribution to be made. Even within the performance of a standard piece, there is room for improvisation – whether of notes, rhythms, voice, or energy – and these spices and seasonings are the difference between a correct but bland performance and an exciting one. Also important is the more explicit communication that happens between band members that guides who is soloing next, when to go to the ending of the song, or if a song is to be added or skipped.

Finally, pervading all of this is the respect that band members have – respecting their individual gifts and contributions, respecting the roles and contributions of every other musician, respecting the audience, and respecting the music itself.

When it all comes together, as it did last night, the power of relationship to create a shared experience is compelling, and has a lot to teach me about how that can work in other situations. You need a shared vision, people with the right skills to carry out the needed roles who are committed to making their best contribution to the group, as well as empathy, communication, and respect.

A Breath is Eternity

I stand, watching the clouds, and breathing.

In the space of one breath they move in the sky, changing shape, changing color.

It is stunning how much life can occur in the time (space) of one breath, when I perceive it, experience it, moment by moment.

Immersed in the moment, appreciating what is, knowing that even as I experience it, it is changing.

Yet the experience of the moment is eternal.

Making Practice Real

In yoga teacher training, we are discussing this quote from Michael Stone about how yoga practice is relevant in our lives:

"For yoga to be a living tradition, we need to integrate committed practice with a teacher alongside critical engagement with the core axioms of the particular yoga system we are studying, so that the teachings come alive in this culture, in this time, in this human experience."(1)

I believe that the real work of yoga and the growth that results, comes at the nexus of the ancient practices with the real circumstances of my life, right now. I am not a reenactor, trying to recreate the life of a yogi from the past. I am a practicing human being, applying tools of the yoga tradition that have evolved over thousands of years through their application by thousands of dedicated yogis and teachers.

That the two concepts of dedicated practice and non-attachment are both necessary for yoga is a core teaching. Understanding the truth of that concept is an ongoing process for me, in particular understanding that non-attachment doesn’t mean that I don’t care about things in the world – or, conversely, how to care deeply about things without being attached to them.

Nicolai Bachman describes dedicated practice as a disciplined, persistent effort to remain focused, and says that diligent practice directed inward will, over time, cultivate non-attachment.(2) As I become more in touch with the inner Self, things in the outer world don’t seem as important, giving me space to let go of clinging.

Teachers are important to me. Perhaps it is a feature of modern yoga, with a multitude of studios offering classes from a multitude of teachers, and with many more resources available over the internet, that I have so many teachers. In a sense, all the teachers merge into a collective Teacher. I believe that I benefit from the variety of perspectives and particular approaches that each teacher brings into the collective Teacher-space.

The final step, though, is that the ultimate teacher is also the student, me. No matter how brilliant the teaching, it has no effect until I recognize how it applies to me, internalize it, and incorporate it into my practice. This is where another of the core yoga concepts, keen discernment, is so vital. Where am I in my practice? Where are my edges, now? What does this teaching mean, applied to my practice? How do I apply it to advance my practice, extend my edges, and stay safe?



(1) Stone, Michael. The Inner Tradition of Yoga: A Guide to Yoga Philosophy for the Contemporary Practitioner. Boston: Shambhala, 2008. Print.

(2) Bachman, Nicolai. The Path of the Yoga Sutras: A Practical Guide to the Core of Yoga. Boulder, CO: Sounds True, 2011. Print.

Symphony for Rain and Forest, Opus Infinity

I awoke this morning to the steady beat of raindrops on the skylight. After breakfast, I briefly sat at the computer, but strongly felt that I wanted to sit with the rain. I took a chair out onto the back deck and sat just under the edge of the eaves.

The air is cool, moist and fresh. Now and then a drop or a splash reaches my cheek or hand.

Looking up through the tree tops, the sky is flat gray, and countless streaking raindrops flash past the green foliage. There is a steady but energized sound all around - more than a rustle, less than a roar. Leaves shudder, pelted by drops. A squirrel appears, racing along a highway of tree branches before disappearing behind a large oak. A large brown oak leaf drops to the ground, swaying from side to side as it slowly falls toward a puddle on the ground, jolted now and then by a streaking drop of water.

The rain intensifies and the sound builds. I feel that I am sitting in a concert space, immersed in a performance, enveloped by sensations of sound, sight and texture. Each raindrop is a tiny mallet propelled by gravity until it strikes a surface - a leaf, branch, rooftop, or puddle - stirring a tiny vibration in the air that is part of an unwritten score: Symphony for Rain and Forest, Opus Infinity.

Drops gather on the underside of leaves and branches, coalescing until gravity breaks the tension holding them, and they plop to the ground in counterpoint to the steady texture of sound coming from the canopy above. Now and then a leaf breaks free and scratches past other leaves or branches on its way groundward.

The vibration all around gives depth and substance to the field of space and time that fills this concert hall - which is bounded only by the limits of my mind's perception here and now.

I hear the far away cheep of a small bird, and realize that this section of the orchestra has been silent until now. The motif repeats, and soon I see the small, tan songbird flit trough the shrubs and alight on a branch. A breeze runs low along the side of the house, swirling the ferns and the spotted acuba leaves. A stronger gust blows through, bringing an intense shower of droplets as it shakes them from the trees above, then quickly subsides.

Some tension has built in my body, which is spontaneously released with a deep in-breath and a sigh. Some part of me was drawn here. What was it that I needed to find?

Suddenly I recall memories of walks in the rain forest in Southeast Alaska, of drippy wet mornings in a remote cabin, in a tent near the beach, of rainy nights on my boat anchored in a cove. I am peaceful in this space.

Now my feet and fingers are getting cold, and it is the warmth inside that calls me. I rise to go inside, as the symphony plays on.

My Birthday Wish - a swift end to the government shutdown

It's my birthday. Normally I would be working today, but instead I'm home because the basic operations of the federal government have not been authorized for 2014, and many government employees are furloughed.

People are suffering irreparable harm as a result. I personally know of contractor families with no income who will not be held harmless once this impasse is resolved, and shopkeepers in the building where I should be working today - small business people with families to support - whose income has dropped to nothing, because there are no people in the building to serve. This of course, is just a droplet on the tiny, melting tip of the iceberg. It cannot stop soon enough.

I grew up in a Midwest family from farms and small towns. My parents were professionals, minister and teacher, and were considered middle class, though they were just a generation removed from poverty. My grandparents lived and raised their families through the Dust Bowl and the Great Depression. They all believed in education, hard work, self-reliance, and living within your means. They also believed in helping out your neighbors, and in respecting all people, regardless of skin color or cultural differences. They believed you were responsible for your actions, and in the importance of service to the community. They believed in paying taxes, because good government required it, and deplored waste in government. They had strong principles, and also understood that other equally principled people would not always agree with them. They were conservative, in an honest and considerate way that I truly respected.

I share those values with them. Values and principles are important, but true principles are not ossified absolutes – those are the truck of fundamentalism in all forms. True principles form the basis for informed debate, and no single principle is adequate to respond to the demands of our complex, heterogeneous society. The minority, who hold absolutist positions and would threaten all the rest of society just to have their way, must not prevail. Whether from the left or the right, that is a paradigm that does not serve our society.

Compromise is not a failure in our society, it is a requisite for our society to function. Compromise is not giving up your principles, it is applying your principles, with an open mind, to find workable solutions that are acceptable and beneficial to the society as a whole. I have no doubt that the Affordable Care Act has problems that need to be addressed. I also know many people who will benefit from the access to insurance that it provides. It is not a great evil. It is not a just cause to shutter the government or to risk the credit of the Nation.

Principles and compromise are not mutually exclusive concepts. I wouldn't want a leader without principles. Nor would I want a leader with a closed mind who was unwilling to compromise with others who hold different views.

I also grew up understanding that you got one wish for your birthday, so here's mine. It is my sincere wish that Congress will turn away from the present course, fund the government immediately, and reengage in the hard work of responsibly governing our Nation in all its diversity and complexity.

Grounded by Squirrels

Before dawn this morning, I walked to the metro to go downtown to one of my favorite yoga classes.  There were a few scattered clouds in the sky, but I still had a nice view of Orion as I walked through the neighborhood, until I got to Spring Street where bright lights and taller buildings take over.

The metro trains were hot and crowded in both directions, and by the time I got back to Silver Spring for the walk home, I was feeling unsettled - not sure what I was going to accomplish for the day and not feeling much energy.  I crossed Georgia Avenue and headed down the neighborhood streets.

There are a lot of squirrels here - even if you don't count me - and they come in several different colors - like automobiles.  Also like automobiles, a couple of the most common colors are gray and black.  Anytime of the day you can expect to see a number of them foraging in the yards, chasing each other around the trees, or traveling along the utility lines overhead.  But it isn't normal to be nearly run down by one.

I caught a flash of furry movement in my peripheral vision and turned to see one of the gray models racing through the yard to the left, out into the street just behind me, and speeding past - dodging a little bit when it noticed me impeding the way.  This was very much like the behavior of the black Tesla Model S that I had just encountered while crossing Georgia Avenue.  The squirrel was just as quiet, and even more nimble. It raced over to a tree along the road and began to climb the trunk.

This particular tree is some exotic evergreen.  It has a tall and very straight trunk that is completely bare of branches until quite high up -- probably 40 or 50 feet.  There already was another squirrel, a black model with an acorn in its teeth, on the trunk a few feet from the ground.  The squirrels seemed disinterested in each other, but unusually interested in me.

I decided to stop and watch, and prolong the encounter.  The racing squirrel climbed about 20 feet up the trunk, then turned and positioned itself head down on the side of the tree.  I had been marveling at how secure and adept they are, clinging to the bark, and when it turned head down I had visions of how I would be feeling in the same situation - head down clinging to the vertical side of a tree, or a cliff.  I would not be feeling secure, and adept.

Then I noticed that the black squirrel had moved around the tree to the same side of the trunk and positioned itself in the same way, head down, still holding the acorn.  They were clearly focused on me, as I was on them.  Perhaps they had an affinity for my gray and black attire. It seemed unusual to me.  I am used to them paying enough attention to see whether I'm a threat, or perhaps to chatter at me, but usually they quickly scamper away.

Today though, these two seemed as intent on studying me as I was them.  Sort of an awareness stare down, I guess.   In the end, they won.  After a few minutes I decided to head on down the street, thinking about how when we are truly aware, we realize how extraordinary the ordinary really is. By stopping to commune with these two creatures for a few minutes, I was brought back to the wonder of the world and my place in it, here and now.  No longer unsettled, I was connected, grounded by squirrels.

Everything flows, nothing stands still

This idea is attributed to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus, but I expect the concept has been around since humans first observed the world around them.  The world is in constant change.

Change occurs on all scales - from the grand, cosmic scale of a star collapsing and then exploding in a supernova, to the daily, incremental changes in the cells of our bodies as we grow, and then age.

Change happens in physical objects, as the waves of the ocean erode the shore, and it happens to conceptual things, like art, music, and language.  Some changes are directional - a rocky shore can only erode once, while others have a clear periodicity - like the changes in tides or seasons caused by orbiting objects.

At a certain point, early in the fall, the earth has moved to the point in its orbit where the dawn comes later, and it is still dark during my early morning walks.  Then, if the sky is clear, I can see the constellation Orion high up in the sky, a bit to the south.  I marvel at the light that has traveled so many years to reach this spot - right where my eyes are.  Of course, there's a whole field of light radiating out from the stars, filling space with photons.  At any given moment, some of them strike my retinas, and my mind processes that as the light from a star.

It's also interesting to read about and contemplate how humans, from different cultures and time periods around the world, have seen light from these same stars - an earlier point in the stream of photons that has filled space for millions of years - recognized the pattern of light as a symbol, and created meaning for their culture.  I find it very interesting that the constellation has been associated with a hunter, or hunting, in many separate cultures in both the new and old worlds.

Change is constant, but it isn't always taking us from the familiar to the unfamiliar. One consequence of the changing seasons is that I get to reconnect with the experience of Orion, as I have now for several cycles around the sun.  So while the change is taking me away from some experiences, it returns me to another one that is familiar, and anticipated when I step out into the dark early morning.

Change is constant... expect it!

Thank you, thank you, thank you....

That's what was in my mind when I awoke this morning, a stream of "thank yous" that I was saying to someone.  The object of my profuse gratitude was left behind in dreamland, but the feeling was with me as I rolled out of bed.

Sometimes I'm slow to take a hint, but as I sat down to meditate this morning, it seemed obvious to stick with the mantra that had been presented to me.  Indeed, "thank you" works perfectly well paired with the breath - inhale "thank," exhale "you."  Since whatever triggered this thought in my dream remained veiled in my subconscious, I was left with nothing particular to be thankful for, except everything, and no one to thank, except the universe.

So, gratitude has become the theme for the day.  I found a description of gratefulness as: "the full response to a given moment and all it contains."  (Br. David Steindl-Rast's gratefulness.org)

That struck me as very much like a description of mindfulness: "an attentive awareness of the reality of the present moment."  (shortened slightly from the Wikipedia entry for mindfulness)

The main difference seems to be that mindfulness is awareness of the present moment, whereas gratefulness is a response to it.   Clearly then, to be grateful, you must also be mindful.  Mindfulness and gratitude are a well recognized pair, as a quick internet search reveals.

Recognition of the importance and power of gratitude flows deep and far back.  Finding that Martin Luther referred to gratitude as "the basic Christian attitude" and that Cicero said that "gratitude is not only the greatest of all the virtues, but the parent of all others," reinforced its value and place in my practice.

A common understanding of a practice of gratitude is that it changes your mind from negative to positive thoughts.  In fact, I began meditation and yoga practice at a time when I felt my responses to life were too often negative, and I wanted to shift my perspective to the positive.  I had the strong sense that if I was more positive, I would be happier.   That has certainly proven true.

I'm now more aware of the relationship between my intention to be positive in all things, and the concept of gratitude.  To continue further, I think the next step for me is an intentional gratitude practice, journaling daily about things for which I am grateful.

Distractions

One of my habits is to seek distractions.  I'm trying to understand why I do that, even while being fully aware that I am pulling my attention away from something important to something much more trivial.

Sometimes I feel I am stuck - not sure how to proceed, not wanting to make a decision.... "oh, there's a happy distraction - let me look at that!..."

(After writing that, I just went and ate a small tomato and brewed another cup of tea - happy distractions from the task of writing.)

Perhaps distractions are actually helpful sometimes - like backing up to find another way around an obstacle - or pressing "reset" on a mind that needs fresh energy.  Or perhaps that's just a rationalization for them.

On the other hand, "distract" has an archaic meaning of insane, or mad, and sometimes that's what it feels like distractions are leading me to.

Much of my typical day at work is reacting to external stimuli - emails about new tasks, phone calls, meetings, documents appearing in my in-box for review.  I am used to being reactive.  The day sometimes seems like a never ending stream of distractions.

I think there's a part of my brain that knows how to react to things, and another part that knows how to initiate, to create.  In spite of being stressful, reaction is easier.  Initiation is more difficult, and so my mind seeks distractions to get back to the safe, easy zone.

If I want to spend more time and energy initiating and creating, I have to change my relationship to distractedness, changing the balance toward more mindfulness, and less distraction.

Mindful, Not!

You know you're not being mindful when you prepare a plate of food for lunch, pick it up to put in the microwave, pull on the handle, and then realize you have opened the refrigerator.

An Intention For Living

"I am here, I am now;

I am everywhere, I am all times;

I am open to the universe, I am positive in all things.

Things are as things are;

I live without attachment to outcomes;

Things are as things are;

I am positive in all things."

Galen Tromble

These thoughts coalesced during meditation over a few months in 2012.  I now often use it as a mantra for meditation, and it has retained its relevancy to my life.

It reminds me to be in the present moment.  It encourages me to be open to new possibilities, to be aware and to walk through the door that unexpectedly opens.  It helps me look for ways to respond positively to life, even to things that are not what I want or could be a source of hurt or resentment.  It acknowledges that most things in life are outside of my control, but my reactions to them are always my choice, and it asserts my intention to choose the positive.

Wake Up!

"... we recognize in ourselves the ability to wake up and also to return to a life of habit."    Michael Stone

To wake up.... or return to a life of habit... which will it be?

Pam says we are practicing being retired. So why am I getting up at 5am again. It's a habit, my normal routine for Wednesday, as it has been for two years. I walk to the Silver Spring studio of Willow Street Yoga for a 6:30am class, then walk a block to Starbucks with several of the group to get coffee and chat before I walk on to work.

Instead, after coffee today, I'll walk back home.

One of the unsettling aspects of the shutdown is that the routine of going to work is suddenly absent. The routine is a set of habits, life on autopilot, a default use of time that requires no thought, no decision. That is not to say that the routine is bad, or that all the habits are unhealthy or unproductive.  But they are not, in general, mindful.

Now the routine is absent, and that presents an opportunity to consider what is happening in my life right now, and what I want to do with it.

I'm not going to yoga today because it's a habit. I made a deliberate choice to go. I'm going because of relationships - both the relationship that I have with my yoga practice, and the relationships with my fellow yogis - a diverse, accomplished, and interesting group of people who practice yoga for an hour and then share conversation about what's going on in life before dispersing for another week. I find that quite grounding.

While the major external habits associated with the routine of work have been disrupted, compelling me to live differently, I still have a myriad of more internal habits to deal with -- patterns of thinking, how I occupy 'free time', what I turn to when I am restless, happy, unhappy, and on and on.

Those are the harder work.

A Mindful Shutdown

Parts of the Federal government shut down yesterday (Oct 1, 2013) due to the failure of Congress to pass an appropriations measure. I knew this was a likely event, and also knew it was outside my control.

I began the day as any Tuesday. I got up before 5am, did a routine involving several types of little balls to wake up my hands and feet, and meditated for 20 minutes before walking to the Metro for a ride on the Red Line to Dupont Circle for a 7am yoga class.

After that pleasant start to the day, I arrived at work to conduct the "orderly shutdown" process. This entailed making sure all employees time and attendance was recorded for the last pay check until the government reopens, answering a variety questions from staff, and putting "sorry, we're closed due to budget insanity" messages on email and voicemail.

A little before noon I called Pam, who is also furloughed, and we arranged to meet for lunch in downtown Silver Spring. It was a nice day to eat outside, around 80 degrees and sunny. Afterwards, we went home to really begin to live the shutdown.

I felt an undercurrent of uncertainty - a longer term concern about how long this will last - and the more immediate question of "now, what do I do?"

I noticed the blue light on the dishwasher was on, so I unloaded the clean dishes. Then, I refilled the nearly empty container we use for dry cat food from the big bag in the pantry. After that, I sorted a small stack of mail.

OK.

I intend to take advantage of this time to be mindful, to be attentive to what I experience and to what I truly want. When this is over, I want to look back and know that it was a good thing for me.