Ten Breaths A Day

Of course, in total, there will be a good deal more than ten breaths a day.  I intend, through the month of June, to find something each day to pay attention to - open up to -  meditate on.

June 30, 2014 - I'm finishing up the month in the evening, with ten breaths for the gently moving treetops silhouetted against the slowly darkening sky.  I sat and watched for quite a while more, until the streetlights came on and the fireflies came out.

June 29, 2014 - ten breaths for the soft glow of late evening in the sky and in the tree tops.

June 28, 2014 - ten breaths for two cats perched in the sills of windows open to the morning breeze and light.  They are enjoying the sights and sounds from the woods outside and the warmth of the sun, which gleams off their white fur.

June 27, 2014 - ten breaths for patterns of morning sunlight on the wall, changing at a pace that seems right at the edge of my ability to focus and discern.

June 26, 2014 - ten breaths for morning sun shining through water droplets left on fuschia flowers from last night's rain.

June 25, 2014 - ten breaths for fireflies at dusk, rising from the grass to hover a foot or two above the ground and signal with their lights before dropping back to the lawn.

June 24, 2014 - ten breaths for the sky at sunrise - the slowly growing brightness of a new day.

June 23, 2014 - ten breaths for day lilies on the walk to work.  They are bright orange in the morning sun, opening their six petals to the world.

June 22, 2014 - ten breaths for bumblebees working on a patch of sunlit yellow flowers.  I am fascinated by their maneuverability and the speed at which they assess the condition of a flower before either landing to gather pollen, or quickly moving on to the next one.

June 21, 2014 - ten breaths for the coolness of mist on my skin.  Today, the start of summer, was cloudy and cool, a nice break from the recent heat and humidity.

June 20, 2014 - ten breaths for blue midday sky spread overhead, accented by just a few wispy white clouds and one jet contrail.

June 19, 2014 - ten breaths for mockingbirds, morning and evening.  This morning, a mockingbird entertained with its repertoire of notes, trills, clicks, and little melodies, each unique and sometimes startlingly different than the one before.  Perhaps because I had noticed the mockingbird in the morning, and paid attention to it, I immediately recognized the smaller bird vigorously chasing a crow this evening as another mockingbird.  I thought back to the incident a few days ago when it was crows vociferously harassing a fox.   Now it was the crow's turn to be the object of harassment.

June 18, 2014 - ten breaths for the settled energy of the long evening of a hot day, nearing the solstice.  The air is dense, thick with yellow light from the sun nearing the horizon behind the trees, deepening the greens of the trees and yards.  White blossoms hang high in the magnolias.

June 17, 2014 - ten breaths for 6 am birdsong, and for the cool breeze blowing across the train platform at the front of a very hot and humid day.  The icing on the cake was watching a sparrow fly up from the other side of a fence beyond the train tracks.  Just as it neared the top of the fence, it pumped and set its wings briefly, and appeared to hop over the top of the fence before gliding down toward me.  It was fun to imagine being that facile.

June 16, 2014 - ten breaths for sunlight and shadow on the wall, slowly but constantly changing shape and contrast.

June 15, 2014 - ten breaths for the surprise of the morning.  I went to the front window to look out at the morning.  Sunlight was beginning to shine bright on the waxy shrub leaves beneath the window. Cawing.  A crow flew into view and lit on the power wire above the street.  Then another flew by.  Suddenly a fox trotted into view from the side of the house, glancing fearfully up as the raucous crows yelled, ran across the street, sat in the neighbor's yard and scratched, then disappeared into the bushes beyond.  The crows followed, noisily.

June 14, 2014 - ten breaths for young buck I saw, quite unexpectedly, when I followed the evening sunlight to the top of the hill.  Suddenly, my brain registered the shape and he emerged into my consciousness, still as a statue.  For a few moments I thought he might be an ornament in the garden.  Then I realized he was watching me as intently as I was watching him.  His concern with me softened enough that he browsed a bit more on a shrub he had been enjoying while still keeping an eye on me.

June 13, 2014 - ten breaths for the painterly sky emerging behind an intense afternoon thunderstorm.  Layered gray and white clouds with blue sky above.  Watching the clouds, I could see motion, but could not identify a change from the movement.  Quite interesting.

June 12, 2014 - ten breaths on first waking to the stillness of the morning.  In contrast to the rain storm of the night before, the stillness reminded me of the quiet mind after chanting, or counting down, settling into meditation.  With my ten breaths, I imagined the world was in quiet meditation.

June 11, 2014 - ten breaths for strong, cooling wind blowing through about 6 pm as the day settled, and another ten for the roar of the torrential downpour that came a few hours later.

June 10, 2014 - ten breaths for breathing itself.  I woke up this morning feeling aware and connected with breath - aware that the air I breathe connects me to the larger respiratory processes of life on Earth that recycle carbon dioxide and produce oxygen.

June 9, 2014 - ten breaths in the morning for bright yellow daisies, and ten more in the evening for the sunset sky.  Special attention today for the birth of granddaughter Laureva Mireille Sophie Giraud in France.

June 8, 2014 - ten breaths for tiny green shoots on a fig tree, and the resilience of life.  I love fresh figs.  A couple of years ago I planted a small fig tree.  It got munched on by deer the first winter.  This winter was colder and cold for a longer period than typical.  When spring came, I realized the tree wasn't budding out, and also noticed that some larger, more established figs in the area had been winter killed.  I cut the branches way back to see what would happen.  A few weeks ago I saw a single tiny green bud on the side of the main trunk near the ground.  A week later it was still there, but I couldn't see any progress.  Today, however, it is clearly growing - about a half inch long now - and there are several additional buds right where the trunk meets the ground.

June 7, 2014 - ten breaths for shadows on the window shades.  The shapes were soft and still, mostly shadow with shapes of light. After a few breaths, my mind saw them as scattered clouds floating in the sky.

June 6, 2014 - ten breaths for sweet cicely blooming in the woods.  Sweet cicely is a native plant that has tiny white flowers arranged in a cluster at the end of narrow stalks that radiate out like sun rays from the end of a stem.  Ten breaths is enough time to bring my attention from the patch of plants by the path down to a single cluster of blooms and finally to the tiny individual flowers.

June 4, 2014 - ten breaths for leaf shadows from the trees providing a cool lunch spot on a hot day.

June 3, 2014 - out of the house before 6 to go to a yoga class.  The dawn was just breaking and the sky in the east had golden clouds drifting above rich gray ones.  Ten breaths for this morning light and the subtle shifts I could observe from breath to breath.  A couple of minutes later as I continued my walk, the light was completely different - the clouds bright white.

June 2, 2014 - it was a lovely, practically perfect, morning when I set out for work.  Cool breeze, warm sun, low humidity, blue sky with a white cloud or two.  Ten breaths for sunshine, bright and warm on my face.

June 1, 2014 - ten breaths for sunlight glowing through the tree leaves, and the shimmering reflection of light from the creek on the leaves and tree trunks, where the light looked like dancing tongues of fire.

May 31, 2014 - ten breaths for shadow patterns on the window shades in the morning - fluttering, dancing, dimming, becoming bright, shifting and swaying.  Most are cast by the leaves of trees, but the shadows of flying insects make cameo appearances.

May 30, 2014 - ten breaths for a purring cat laying by my feet.

May 29, 2014, my Ten Breaths practice was for the song of a cardinal - or, as it turned out - two cardinals - one closer, and the other responding from farther away.  After breath seven, the birds stopped singing for a while, so I finished the ten breaths in silence.

What I Can't (or Won't) Let Go Of

I have good ability to stay detached from events - such as the misfortune of having a police car approach from the other direction - lights flashing and siren blaring - just as I was nearing an intersection to turn left for home.  This forced me to pull 2 lanes over to the right, turn in the opposite direction from home, and then find a place to turn around and backtrack.

Ho Hum.

But bad behavior on the part of people - or what I perceive to be such - can still push my buttons.  One such incident came up at work today.  I thought it was safely tucked into the "discuss on Monday" bin.  But all of a sudden, at the end of a yoga class tonight when we laid down in savasana for the final deep rest, the incident leapt back into my mind and was determined to stay there.

It seemed tethered with an elastic cord to my consciousness.  Every time I thought I had let it go, it would drift away a bit farther and then come shooting back into the forefront, some insane part of my mind wanting to dwell on it and create an inner dialog about what I was going to do, what I was going to say to whom about it, and why it was so damn important.

What seems to be shifting the odds in my favor is reminding myself of my intention to be positive in all things, and thinking, "OK, so how can I be positive about this?"

Will I make it through the night without this rebounding once again into my theater of internal drama?

Just One Simple Thing

At some point today I realized that, on several occasions, I had a thing squarely in mind, and next thing I knew had been distracted and forgotten what it was.

That became my practice for the rest of the day - focus on one thing, and keep it in mind until it was done.  Simple, and not easy at all.

Once, my simple thing was located in a cabinet behind my desk.   At the time it came to mind, I was on the other side of the building.  Just one simple thing.  By the time I reached my office, the thing itself was out of mind, but I at least remembered that I was headed for the cabinet, which was close enough to lead me back to the thing I was after.  

Just one simple thing.  Which I can no longer remember.

Things Are As They Are

Yesterday, traveling back from Oklahoma, I had a great opportunity to use my practice of positive acceptance.   My flight home to Washington D.C. was connecting in Dallas.  About the time we were scheduled to board the plane, an announcement was made that, due to thunderstorms, there was a "ground hold" in Dallas - no planes were landing or taking off.  

My scheduled connection in Dallas was only 45 minutes, so even a modest delay could mean I'd miss my flight.  Of course, the ground hold affected all the flights.  

I spent the next couple of hours watching people in the concourse, watching billowy gray clouds move across the sky, and watching a parade of planes, diverted from Dallas, land and taxi up near the airport to wait out the storm raging 200 miles south.  

I didn't know when our plane would go to Dallas, though it was nearly certain that it would.  The flight status information on the connecting flight indicated that it was scheduled to leave Dallas before we could possibly get there.  

Not so long ago, I would have let myself become anxious and irritated - if not at the weather delay, then at the lack of reliable information in the promised regular updates that came only irregularly.  Instead, what came to mind was the ending phrase from the mantra that I work with:  "Things are as things are; I am positive in all things."  Indeed.

When they read the connecting flight gates as we approached Dallas, Washington Reagan was on the list, at a gate at the far end of the C concourse from our arrival gate.  I walked quickly down the concourse, equally prepared for the plane to be waiting or for the flight to have left without me.   I arrived just a couple of minutes before they boarded my group, and made it home, a few hours late, but free of stress.

No situation can create stress for us, we get to do that for ourselves.   Things are just things.  We create stress (or not) through our response to them.

Grackle in the Wind

A grackle zipped past, sailing with the strong south breeze that blew all day in Oklahoma.  With a quick flip of wings and tail, it turned 180 degrees, head into the wind.  Suddenly still, it was suspended for a moment a few inches above the ground by the lift from air rushing past its wings, before dropping to earth.

Acting Like a Kid

Saturday we drove to Pittsburgh for a last visit with my son Roy and his family before they move to Seattle.  Soon after arriving we began to get pulled into the energy and imagination of the grandchildren.

Rachel and Lydia, along with Rachel's friend Grace, were having a photo shoot upstairs.   Taking turns making up poses for the three of them, they would snap a photo using the computer - Rachel had figured out how to use a 3 second countdown timer.  I observed for a bit, and then they wanted me in to the picture too.  Completely spontaneous and improvised, it was a lot of fun.  I was able to use my head stand for one pose.

After lunch, the sun was out and we migrated to the back deck, where a couple of hula hoops appeared.  Pam turned out to be quite good at it.  I eventually managed to keep one going for a few revolutions, and Roy hooped with Lydia sitting on his shoulders.  It's a bit of a shock to find yourself doing things you haven't done in 50 years.  And why not?  What happened to just goofing off, having fun, trying new things, and laughing at the silliness.

Before we left, Rachel wanted to visit the park, so we walked down the street a block to the playground.  After trying out a swing for myself, I spent the rest of the time providing propulsion for the grandchildren.   Sometimes you have to act your age.

The Things That Are

We had heavy rain for most of the night, which lightened up a little by the time I set out for work.

Today was "Bike To Work" day, but almost no one did.  But my walk through the waterlogged landscape was fine.  The robins and squirrels didn't seem fazed by the puddles everywhere.  They were foraging as usual in the yards, and it made me think of how unique we humans are in our response to less than ideal weather.

By early afternoon, the sky was beginning to clear.  I went outside and enjoyed the blooms of some newly planted flowers.  One of them had tiny little florets, and some of them had a little drop of water nestled inside, glowing in the sunlight.

After work, as I started out to walk up town to meet Pam, I thought that I could just shut down for 15 minutes and treat the walk as meaningless filler, or I could pay attention and enjoy whatever I found along the way.  The latter seemed like a better use of time, and, no surprise, it turned out to be full of interesting sights and sounds, scents and sensations.

Being In Time

There are rhythms in the world.  They differ from place to place, and time of day.  They result from complex layerings of energy, the larger pulses that emerge from a multitude of actions.

If I am unaware, pushing past them, and pretending that I can force my own time on the world, life is hectic and stressful.

If I am aware of them, tuned in, and align myself with them, life seems to flow, to be easy and natural.   It can seem as if the universe is paying attention to me, opening the doors just in time, making the right people appear at the right time.  My little rhythm contributes to the whole, and some small affect on those larger pulses, but being in time mainly results from bringing my life into alignment with the larger world.

Ellsworth Street

Ellsworth Street runs through the Silver Spring business district.  On weekends, one long block of it is closed to traffic and becomes a pedestrian mall.

On Saturday morning it is full of people at the farmers' market.  This evening, after a mostly overcast but very pleasant spring day, it bustled with people walking to and from -- who knows where?  Restaurants, the theater, perhaps just enjoying the evening.  Families, couples, teenagers, old folks, accompanied by a couple of groups of street musicians.

I stood for a 10 breaths meditation on the energy of the scene.  During just 10 breaths, a stream of people passed up and down the street, the sun came out and went back behind the clouds, a sparrow darted across the street and back, and twice I was aware of the evening breeze on my face.

Tired

I'm tired.  Very tired.  I hadn't slept much Monday night -- energized in the evening and had trouble falling asleep, then up early.   I could feel it all day long, a feeling like I had to put energy into keeping my focus and attention on things.

I had a couple of presentations to make this afternoon to national gatherings of the regional management and science leaders.  I had no problems being focused for these tasks - the importance of the meetings and my active role was plenty to overcome my fatigue.   Temporarily.

But as soon as the energy of the moment was passed, the heaviness returned.  I'll be turning in ealy tonight.

Why Are You Doing This?

Each month, at the start of our Saturday session of the yoga teacher training weekend, Natalie asks us "why are you doing this?" 

Here's one answer --

As part of the yoga teacher training that I'm taking, I'm taking a Yoga I class - the level that most people start with.   In tonight's class, we partnered up to assist with a challenging pose called chaturanga dandasana.  Starting from a plank position, you lower toward the floor until the upper arm and forearm are at a right angle, and then you hold it.  The basic action is like lowering down in a pushup - except that the elbows are kept tight in against the torso.  Where a 'standard' pushup with elbows out to the side relies mainly on the pectoral muscles of the chest, chaturanga dandasana requires strength in the tricep on the back of the arm.  It is a real challenge for many people.  The most common thing that happens is that the elbows flare out as the body tries to bring the more familiar and stronger muscles into play.

Suzie, the teacher, had us partner up and do an assist - the assister supported the upper arms of the doer as they lowered down from plank to chaturanga dandasana, trying as best as they could to keep the elbows in. The student I was assisting is someone who has been doing yoga for a while - not a first timer - and has been around the sun about as many times as I have. She was working hard, and I coached her a couple of times to keep the elbows in. 

When she got into the final position, I took more of the weight and said again - 'try pulling your elbows in'. She promptly pulled them in firm against her torso and said "Wow! so that's what it is supposed to feel like." She was so excited about it that after doing the assist for me, she asked if I'd help her do another one. Of course, I obliged!  Helping someone experience a new accomplishment and feeling their energy and excitement is very motivating.  

Experiential Anatomy

It seems odd to me that, before I began practicing yoga, I didn't pay much attention to how my body worked and moved, and wasn't particularly interested in it.  The awareness I did have was very crude - such as how close I could get to touching my toes.

Answer - not very close - which is one reason that I began yoga - to improve my flexibility.

After three years, a lot of movement and receiving a lot of information, how my body works and moves is becoming very interesting to me.

This past weekend, I went to two sessions of a workshop led by Maria Cristina Jimenez, a Los Angeles based yoga teacher and body worker.  Her approach is to teach anatomy experientially, with individual and partner exercises so that we could feel and see the body working in particular ways.

She was very successful in leading me to new awareness.  Fascinating how actions, connections and sensations can occur, but be outside of conscious awareness.

One example is the connections between the different fingers and different parts of the shoulder.  Indeed, pressing firmly into the floor with the thumb is felt in the front part of the shoulder, while pressing with the little finger connects near the outer edge of the shoulder blade.  This is very useful, I feel like I've been given a whole new set of fine tuning controls.

I remember in my early yoga classes, when the instructor would talk about the importance of the feet and how what happened in the feet affected the pelvis and even higher in the body, I was very skeptical.  The truth was, at the time, I couldn't feel the connections, so for me, they didn't exist.  Now, when a connection is made between pressing into the mound of the big toe and action in the pelvis, I think "of course, that is obvious."

Scope of Awareness

Our weekly trip to Whole Foods is an opportunity to observe people, including myself, in what seems for many to be a fairly stressful situation.

There are a lot of people shopping at Whole Foods on Saturday morning, and it seems that everywhere I turn there is another person, or a shopping cart between me and where I want to be.  The aisles in the store always seem a bit too narrow.

Many of these people are closed off, absorbed in their own mission to select an avocado, find the bruise-less peach, or fill their bag of bulk granola, and seemingly exerting effort to not be aware of what is going on around them.  

When they block the aisle, or access to the seafood counter, are they being inconsiderate?  Or just unaware?  

I remember being agitated about grocery shopping in the past, but not anymore.  I'm much more aware of the whole picture, go with the flow, smile a lot, and, for the most part, enjoy the experience.  Every once in a while, I get a tap on the shoulder because I'm in someone's way.  Even broadened awareness has its limits.   I hope they realize that I'm not being inconsiderate, just unaware.

Azaleas

I've been watching the changes week by week as spring unfolds.  It was cool early in the week, and we had a big storm Wednesday, but of a sudden, at the end of the week, the deep pink blooms of azaleas appeared throughout the neighborhood.  The next several weeks will be a festival of color.

It's a wonderful season that I enjoy each year.  At times it seems almost unreal - like an over-the-top exaggeration of reality.  In addition to the bright color everywhere, most days are pleasant to walk to and from work.

The heat and humidity of summer will come soon enough.  In the meantime, I get to enjoy pleasant walks among the azaleas.

"I Feel Different"

I'm teaching a half hour yoga session at work.  The stretches and postures are not the typical ones you'd do in a class, but are things we can do in a conference room in comfortable work clothes.

The essence of yoga, though, isn't the postures.  It is the aware and attentive integration of mind and body while doing the postures.  We benefit physically from the increased flexibility, strength and balance that results from the practice.  But the postures are also a tool used to expand awareness and cultivate equanimity and sustained attention.

This week I had three new students - not only new to my class, but new to yoga.  I emphasized awareness of the breath, and connecting it to movement.  I also gave cues to promote expanded awareness.  For example, calling for awareness of balance and even weight distribution in the feet, then adding awareness of the breath, then of the position of the head.  

After class, one of the new students said "I feel different.  I wasn't expecting that."

I've been pleased to see the impact that this simple, half hour session can bring.  I observe it for myself as well.  There is a lot of agitation and stress in the work environment.  I don't always experience it as such, because it seems 'normal.'  But the contrast when I move from work into the mid-day yoga session is dramatic, and motivates me to look for ways to bring more equanimity, awareness and sustained attention into my work.