A Meditation on the Light Within

Sit.  Comfortable. Spine long. Breath deep, even, effortless.

…

Bring your awareness to a point in the center of your body,

  between navel and sternum.

There, is a spark, a tiny glowing ember.

With each inhale, the ember glows larger and brighter,

  the breath energizing the ember until a golden flame bursts forth.

Each breath feeds the flame, and warm golden light spreads out in all directions –

  extending up toward heart,

  down toward navel,

  out to the front ribs,

  back to the spine. 

Continue to breathe, bringing energy to the flame as it expands –

  up through your shoulders,

  down to fill your pelvis.

Watch as the light begins to fill your legs and arms,

  out past the knees and elbows,

  extending through ankles and wrists,

  filling toes and fingers with a warm, golden glow.

The next breath makes the light even brighter,

  as it rises up the spine through the neck to fill the entire skull.

Warm, golden light now fills your entire body,

  and begins to radiate out into the space around you,

  filling it with warmth, presence, love.

Your light extends out to meet the light of others,

  merging into a larger sense of presence and unity.

Happy Shadow

Leaves on the overhead branches cast shadows on the sidewalk.
Interesting that we treat the making of a shadow as the act,
The shadow is cast.
When it is the light, that is the agent of action.
The shadow is what we see if the light cannot reach the earth.

Nonetheless, it is the shadow that draws my attention.
There, on the sidewalk before me, it is right, it belongs.
The sun is shining, leafy branches hang above me.
There should be leafy shadow-shapes.

Another shadow moves before me.
My shadow.
It draws my mind to the present,
Evidence that I am here.

I am content, I belong here.
I fit in with the world around me.
I walk on, my shadow merging with the shadow of the leaves.
Just one happy shadow.

Today

Today was a beautiful day.  In the morning, the sun and trees cast fascinating patterns of light and shadow on the brick side of the house next door and on the window shades in the piano room.

A yoga workshop had me indoors for most of the afternoon and evening.  But there was a two hour break between sessions, so I left the car at home for the second session and walked the 20 minutes or so back to the studio.

It felt summery.  Temperature in the low 80s.  Some heat in the sunlight, and nice in the shade.  The air was still, insects hummed high in the trees, and starlings twittered from one tall tree.  I enjoyed the wide variety of greens, from the lawns up to the tree tops.  Every different plant, situated differently in the light, had a different shade to offer.

The sun had just set when I walked back home.  There were more insects singing, and the far off bark of a dog.  Without  the sun streaming in, the air was chillier, and it felt like autumn again.

The Sky is Falling

I just about had a Chicken Little moment on the walk to work this morning.  As I walked up the sidewalk toward Georgia Avenue, a green-husked walnut, falling from high overhead, whacked the sidewalk a few steps in front of me.  Three leaves twirled down after it.  Perhaps I should take a different route for a while.

Feeding Back

Feedback took on a whole new meaning with the invention of the electric amplifier.  In sound reinforcement, as the field of making things louder is known, feedback happens when the amplifier picks up it's own output as new input, and amplifies it further.  When a 10X amplified signal is amplified 10X and then 10X more, it's easy to imagine the resulting unpleasantness.

But there's another kind of feedback, when someone provides their assessment of your work in a clear, direct, and nonjudgmental way.  When feedback slides into negative judgment, it becomes criticism.  Others might define the terms differently, but that's how I use them.

Feedback requires that both the sender and the receiver have a relationship of trust so that information about things that didn't work well and suggestions for improvement aren't received as criticism.

I've had good experience with feedback about yoga teaching, and it has motivated me to learn more as I think it could be very helpful in my work to be able to provide good feedback.  

The Inevitable Fate of Best-laid Plans

I taught a yoga class at The Happy Yogi, a new studio opened this month by a friend.  It's in an area that hasn't had a good yoga studio, so it is attracting a new client base.

I arrived with a well thought out plan for the class and had put a lot of thought into the poses and sequencing.  Four students arrived.  I introduced myself and asked about their experience.  For two, it was their first yoga class.  Ever.  For the other two, it was their second.

OK.

I started into the class, helping them adjust blankets and blocks to find a comfortable seat that allowed them to sit tall.  It was clear right away that my teaching had to shift away from my plan to a simpler, more basic approach that focused on fewer poses and more on instructing fundamentals.

It was very helpful that I had planned so thoroughly for the class, but in a different way that I had intended.  My preparation gave me access to, and confidence in, the information I needed to teach the class well.  By being forced away from my plan, I was pushed into the present, needing to be aware, observe, and respond intuitively based on what I saw right in front of me.  Rather than being a problem, the fact that the reality of the class required me to adapt on the spot brought out the best in my teaching.

By all accounts, it was a good experience for the students as well as me.

Juggling

I've launched into a packed fall schedule of work and yoga teaching.  This morning started a weekly class at the NOAA Fitness Center.  I had 10 students - four new to yoga.  Tomorrow evening I teach for the first time at a new studio, The Happy Yogi.  That will be a bit of an adventure, as I have to drive there during a busy traffic time - probably presenting lots of opportunities to practice yoga (breathing and non-attachment) in the car.

I'm trying to get on a new sleep schedule - bed at 9pm and up at 5am - which will work the best for week days overall.  I'm not quite there yet.

This has added some new focus to my life - get things done... now... because I don't have time to mess around.  I'm interested to see if I'll be able to keep up the pace, still finding sufficient time to be quiet and settle.   If I can't, I'll need to let some things go.  It isn't worth sacrificing well-being to be overly busy, even if the things keeping me busy are things I want to do.

Transitions, Summer to Fall

Today is the last day of summer.  The weather was a precursor of autumn - cool, the breeze almost chilly, sunny, with clear air even over the city giving sharp definition to the scenery.

I don't know if it has anything to do with the time of year, but I saw two cats out hunting today on the walk to work - I usually don't see any, and I'd not seen either of these before.  Then, on the walk home, I saw a third - a young yellow tabby that I have seen before - very friendly, but several blocks away from his usual haunts.

There was just enough cloud in the sky tonight to hide the stars, but I could almost feel the fall constellations waiting up there for me.

Change is always happening.  There are cycles, like day and night, and the annual seasons, that take us for a journey and then back again to the same place - but not quite the same.  There's a constant longitudinal movement of time overlaying the cycles that never repeats.  We can see that in the geological history of our planet, in the evolution of life on earth, and even in the experience of our individual lives, which are in constant change from conception to death.

There's no more change happening from today to tomorrow than between any other two days, but because we mark it as a change in the seasons it seems more significant.  It's a cue to shift away from the exuberance of summer into a more introverted and pensive mood as the earth slowly goes to sleep over the next several months.

The Present Fox

I was up early to take Pam to the airport.  It was dark when we left, and just getting light as we arrived at the National Airport terminal.  By the time I arrived back in Silver Spring, day had fully arrived.

As I turned from Dale Drive onto Harvey Road, a fox crossed the street, heading east from our neighbor's yard to the hill slope landscaping on the other side of the street.

This was a big animal, in prime condition.  Strutting across the street, tall and alert, dog-sized, but instantly recognizable as not a dog - reddish brown in color, slender face with pointed snout and ears, long legs beneath a streamlined body - and then that huge, bushy tail that looks like a full half of the animal.

Every time I encounter something unexpected like this, I wonder how many other wonderful things are going on all around that I'm not in the right place at the right time to see.

I'm reminded of the value of being present; of being aware of what is around me and able to appreciate it with my full attention.  Not just a glimpse of a fox crossing the street and interrupting whatever story is spinning in my brain - whether rehashing events of yesterday, thinking about all the things I "need" to do today, or fast-forwarding to an expected busy week at work.  

How much better to see the fox and fully experience the few seconds it took to stare down my car, cross the street, and disappear in the dense plantings.

Following the Muse

My day today seemed to pass quickly, a simple sequence of meal, transportation, yoga, transportation, repeat.

After breakfast I drove north up Columbia Pike about 13 miles to a new yoga studio run by a young woman I met in one of my regular classes.  I took Chris's morning class and then we talked about classes that might work out for me to teach.

By the time I got home it was time for lunch, and soon after that Pam and I headed over to the Silver Spring studio of Willow Street Yoga for a 2 hour hamstring workshop.  Maria, the teacher, is one of our favorites, and also the teacher in whose class I met Chris.

When we got home, it was about time to fix dinner, which included fried green tomatoes from our garden as well as corn and sweet potatoes from the farmer's market.

I was very tired, my energy low.  I sat down to read and soon dozed off.  I wasn't motivated to work on anything major from my list of things to do.  The one thing that reenergized me was playing the piano.  

Lately my playing has been a mix of jazz standards and free improvisation.  I play what comes to me. I play based on what I know, but also just explore things - taking the music where it seems to want to go.  I'm not thinking much, but am letting my deeper mind learn what works through the experience of doing it.  It is very much an experience in the present.  

I've played piano nearly all my life.  In just the past year or so, my playing has become much freer, much more interesting.  I know this is a result of my yoga and meditation practices, which have given me a new relationship with the thinking mind and the judgmental right/wrong mind.  When I'm playing, those parts of mind are stowed away, and I'm connected with a deeper, freer, more intuitive part of mind.

Loving Kindness

After some time away, the practice of loving kindness meditation has come back into my life several times recently - in things I've read, or in a guided practice.

At the end of Francesca Cervero's yoga class today, she led us in a loving kindness meditation:

May you be happy,
May you be safe,
May you be healthy,
May you live in ease.

The words can vary.  Another version I've heard recently is:

May you be well,
May you be happy,
May you be peaceful,
May you be loved.

In the practice, you direct these thoughts to yourself, then to someone you are close to, then to someone you don't know well (or have any particular emotional attachment to), then to someone you are having conflict with.  This can be expanded outward to large groups, even the whole world.

Cultivating these intentions pushes aside negative emotions and feels much better than holding onto a resentment, or reacting to people with ill will or prejudice.

My Day

I woke up this morning in Raleigh, meditated, showered, dressed, packed, went to the airport, got something to eat, waited for my plane.  Had an uneventful flight back to DC, got on the metro train, rode it to Ft Totten then to Silver Spring, arriving there just after noon.  Stopped in the lobby store for a sandwich then went upstairs to the office.  Spent the afternoon catching up with staff and on emails.  Updated project status information.  Read and commented on a couple of documents.  Spent a half hour talking about sustainable fisheries with a group of 40 young people in the seafood industry who are in town for a few days of professional development training.  Changed into yoga attire and walked up the street to teach a class at Willow Street.  Pam met me there.  After class, went home, ate, played the piano, watched an episode of The Big Bang Theory, tried to find a fluid leak on the car, cleaned out the cat litter boxes, and sat down to see if I had anything to write about.  Now I think I understand why I'm tired.

Positive Energy

I'm finishing up a couple of days spent on a program review panel.  I've enjoyed hearing about interesting research and educational work.  More than anything, I've been impressed by the positive energy coming from people who love what they do, believe in its value, and want to share it with others. 

I'd like to see more of that attitude and perspective in the group that I lead at work, and intend to put energy into cultivating and supporting it. 

Future Future

What will the future bring?  So much news is bad - violence, wars, Ebola, political corruption, environmental degradation, poverty and growing inequality.

But there is another side.  I don't know how much of the total energy of humankind is directed to things that lead to these negative, darker, outcomes, but I suspect it is a relatively small fraction. 

Many people are devoted to making the world better.  I especially appreciate people who work to understand how the world works - not assuming they know, or following some authoritarian teaching or another - but being open minded, asking tough questions, and objectively looking at data. 

I'm grateful for people who are excited about knowledge, are creative and inquisitive, who want to ease suffering and improve quality of life for people, and who contribute to the health and sustainability of the world.

Today I was with a number of people who are passionate about science and sharing it with others, particularly young people.  I can't help but share their enthusiasm and belief in the value of what they are doing, and I wish them well.  It's easy, in the daily grind, to lose sight of the longer term reality that the only way to secure the future is to create it by investing in the next generation. 

A Walkable Life

One of the great things about where we live in Silver Spring, Maryland, is that we are in a nice neighborhood within walking distance of work and the DC Metro train system. 

When we moved here ten years ago, I began walking to work and arranging other aspects of life so I could do most things with minimum extra effort.  I found a doctor in a building on the route to work.  A dentist too, and a bank. 

The doctor eventually moved, and I switched insurance plans, so now I have to drive to visit the doctor.  But most of the other arrangements are still working. 

This morning I headed out for work with a backpack full of the things I'd need over the next three days for a trip to North Carolina.  I would head to the airport a little before noon. 

Before that, I dropped off some outgoing mail in one of several mail boxes on the route to work, stopped by the bank to deposit a check and get some cash at the ATM about 4 steps off my direct path, and made a half block special diversion to a copy shop to make some color copies of a yoga flyer I'd printed. 

Then I walked up the street to work, dropped the flyers off at the fitness center, and went upstairs to work for a few hours before heading back to the Metro station on the corner for the ride to the airport.  I love it!

Procrastination Isn't Worth It!

Last April, we finished our income taxes at the last moment and I didn't have the time or energy (I thought) to do Dad's as well.  So I quickly filled out the form for an extension and mailed it in.

Since then, from time to time, I think "I need to do Dad's taxes," and it seems to be a daunting chore.  It also seems that every time I think about it, and don't do it, the work seems to grow even larger in my mind.

This afternoon I pulled out the file of forms, started up turbo tax, and began to work through it.  It helped to think "I don't have to finish it, I just need to get a start - then it will be easier to finish later."

Once I began, I realized how little work it would actually be.  I hit a couple of bumps, but went back into the files and found the information I needed.  In a couple of hours, I had it done.  One of these times I'll actually learn the lesson - procrastination just adds stress and wastes time.  I probably spent a couple of hours over the past 5 months just thinking about it and then procrastinating again.

I still have some state tax issues to resolve - more of a mess than it needed to be because I didn't take care of things when they first appeared.   This has to do with Dad moving from Kansas to Oklahoma, and then using my address in Maryland for mail.  As a result, there's been income reported and state tax withheld for all three states by various parties.  I need to just deal with it!

Quirks of the Mind

The mind can be a fickle and quirky thing.  It thinks of things that need to be done, and motivates action of the body toward the goal.  Then, it sometimes tosses the idea aside before the thing, so important just moments before,  is completed.

I often deal with this by holding my attention on one task until it is done.  That that can be done is interesting too - one part of the mind can be used to keep another part of the mind focused on a thought.  But does it take yet another part of the mind to choose to do that?  help to keep a thought Today, however, my primary focus was on location.  I was on the main floor of the house, and there were three things to do on the bottom floor.

One was to look for a tool (sturdy cutters for opening packages) that Pam noted was missing from its drawer in the kitchen.  Another was to take new bicycle light mounting brackets down and install them.  The third was to take a load of laundry down and get it started.

In the process of getting the laundry ready to take down, I nearly forgot (or forgot, and then remembered) the bike light.  Then, after a few minutes working with the lights - reading the instructions and making sure I knew the right orientation, I started for the stairs and was nearly heading down when I remembered I had forgotten about the laundry.  So back to get it.

All this because I wanted to make just one trip down, and then up the stairs.

Downstairs, I started the load of laundry, then went into the utility room to install the brackets on the bike.  I thought the cutters might be in that room, but they weren't, so after looking in the utility and box rooms, I found them in the music room, where I had left them some weeks ago.

Then, back up the stairs to put the cutters where they belong.  One trip down, one up, three things done - mission accomplished - though with quite a bit of mental energy expended and a couple of times that I nearly lost track.  Three trips might have been easier.

40 Years Ago Today

September 12, 1974, is the day I arrived in Juneau, Alaska.  Fresh out of Coast Guard boot camp, and a short month shy of my 18th birthday.

I got off the plane at the airport, got a taxi, and headed into town to the Baranof Hotel, where I stayed for the first couple of weeks.

I remember that day because I wanted to.  It was a major event in my young life.  Alaska.  Arriving there not really having any idea what to expect.  I'd never lived in a coastal environment, or among mountains.  There was little information available to me - no internet full of pictures and videos to see.

So I landed there, as the fall began it's long and deep slide into winter darkness, and it rained.  Day after day, mist, drizzle, and rain - the clouds hanging far down the mountain sides.  I remember that it was about 40 days before I saw the tops of the mountains for the first time.

Early on, I stuck that date, 9/12/74, in my memory and have reinforced it many times.  The two strongest memories I have of that first year were those rainy first 40 days of fall, and then, the following spring, when the days grew longer and longer.  I resolved to take full advantage of those daylight hours - hiking, fishing, cooking out at the beach - not wanting to waste any of that daylight after the months of dark and cold.  I kept up pretty well for several weeks, before lack of sleep caught up with me and I crashed.

What You Learn From Others

Yesterday, I posted some observations on how I perceive my own process of learning and teaching.

One of the most valuable things about my yoga teacher training experience is that the senior teachers at Willow Street, who include Joe and Natalie Miller, Maria Hamburger, and Suzie Hurley, are so aware and forthright in their ability to give feedback.  I also need to acknowledge teachers Pat Blum, Anna Karkovska-McGlew, and Francesca Cervero, who have all been both inspirations and sources of key insights for me.

Hearing how others see me and my strengths and weaknesses, and comparing those to my own perceptions, is very valuable - helping me see past my own blind spots and have a better idea of how to grow.  This has also helped me see my own shortcomings in giving meaningful feedback to others, which would be a very powerful thing if I can apply it in my personal and professional capacities.

In terms of yoga, I've learned that I am perceived as smart, able to grasp and explain, with a great deal of clarity, key concepts - qualities that would make me a good teacher for beginning students.  Also, that I have a calm and measured - perhaps reassuring - presence as a teacher.

I can own that feedback.  While I enjoy the challenge of more difficult postures and the advanced level classes that I take, my strongest interest in sharing, or teaching yoga, is in the fundamental aspects of the practice - the connection of mind and body through the breath.  I agree with the thought, from Leslie Kaminoff, that people gain the most benefit from the simplest things we teach them. For instance, simple movements that engage the body in full, deep breathing coordinated with movement, which can simply and powerfully interrupt long held patterns of tension and stress in the body and mind.

What You Learn About Yourself

I taught my first yoga class at Willow Street Yoga Center today.  Not the first yoga class I've taught, but the first at Willow Street, my studio home, where I completed teacher training.  I had prepared, and prepared, for this class, and it was good.  

My process of preparing, both mentally and emotionally, was essentially the same process I use when preparing for a musical performance.  Lots of preparation, planning, practice, and in the end, letting go to something that is not as much in my control as I might like.  

Leading up, I'm always thinking I could be better prepared.  When the time comes, I realize the preparation has served me well, but know that things will unfold in some unexpected way - I'll forget some thing I had worked on diligently so that I wouldn't forget it.  Afterwards, there's this deep sense of transition and release, as I realize that there is no more preparation to do, that my energy can be directed elsewhere, and, at this moment, I have no idea where.  

Having completed this debut, in front of a couple of senior teachers, I'm now working from a new plateau.  I've learned something more about my process - what I have to do to feel prepared to teach - and I can focus my attention and energy a little more for the next time.  

I think this awareness of how I learn - how much is enough - how much is too much - is one of the most valuable things I've gained from years of studying and preparing for speaking, making presentations, performing music, and teaching yoga. 

Speaking the Here and Now

There is a lot going on in life right now.  Work is busy, there are myriad things to do.  Adjusting to a new schedule and commitments for yoga teaching add to the pile, which sometimes can seem too much.

All these things can take my mind spinning off into thinking and planning and worrying.  Keeping attention on the breath is very helpful, but sometimes the mind still races ahead, not paying attention to what I'm doing, but sorting out what I may do several steps along.

This morning, I arrived in the office and began the things I needed to do to settle in and begin work.  But my mind wouldn't stay with what I was doing.  I had the thought to simply narrate, to myself, each step of what I was doing.  "I'm taking things out of the pack.  I'm taking off my shoes.  I'm putting on my work shoes.  I'm putting the pack away."

Very simple, and very effective in keeping my mind in the present.  As I moved into the work day and more complex and perhaps more significant activities, I came back to the narration from time to time, reminding myself of what I was doing, right then.  Giving my attention to the present.  Focused, rather than scattering energy into the winds.  

Circles of Knowing

As I've been preparing for teaching the first complete yoga classes since I completed teacher training, I've had to dig farther into what I know and specifically what and how I can teach it.  I've realized more acutely that there's a difference between knowing how to do something and knowing it well enough to teach it.  

Thinking of three nested circles of knowing has give me a framework to use in developing class plans and sorting out what I can teach now and what I still need to work on.

The inner circle, which I'm calling "Core," is the deepest level.  I have internalized the pose, actions, and instructions - I can teach these poses. Attention and repetition are needed to internalize.  This process applies to each asana, and also, separately, to a sequence of poses, such as a vinyasa flow.  The sequence, the flow from one pose to another, also has to be learned and internalized.

The middle circle, I'm labeling "Proficiency."  I know these poses, I practice them well. More awareness of essential actions and instructions, and refinement through repetition, is needed to move them to the Core.

The outer circle, I call "Exploration."  These are poses I am still figuring out for my own practice.

By sorting out my practice and identifying which circle each pose is currently in, I know what I can teach now, and have information to develop practice plans to move new things from Exploration to Proficiency to Core.

Flying and Flipping

This weekend, I visited with son Roy and his family for a couple of days. Friday night we came home from dinner and 3 year old Lydia wanted to play airplane.  This is a 'game' in which I lie on my back, the kid rests their belly on my feet, and I lift them into the air.

Basically, it's the yoga pose called viparita karani, grounded by 30 pounds or so of squirmy grandchild.

Lydia stayed up a good long while, enjoying the view while I enjoyed a gentle hamstring stretch and the feeling of femurs solidly grounded into the hip sockets.

After a while Lydia wanted something more active, and the game turned into lifting her up and flipping her over to the floor behind me. This quickly attracted the other two children, Rachel and Colin, ages 6 and 20 months, respectively.

For the next 15 minutes, the kids cycled through the flipping machine in constant motion. I got a pretty good workout.

Orion Appears

It's early morning in Seattle as I step over to the open French door and look out to the south. The night air is cool atop the hill in Queen Anne.

The red lights of the three tall transmission towers, placed up here to extend their broadcast reach across the area, blink against the dark sky.

Embedded in the blackness beyond are the stars of the constellation Orion.  One of these, the 'star' in the center of Orion's Belt, is actually a nebula, a stellar nursery containing about 700 young stars. Farther east, and much closer to the horizon, Sirius twinkles.

I know fall is coming when Sirius and Orion appear in the pre-dawn sky.

Mindful Assistance

I assisted in a yoga class at Willow Street Yoga on Wednesday.  I had been a little anxious all day. Why?  I wasn't teaching.  But I had a role, to assist, and I'd never done that before.

What to do?

Observe.  Be aware.  Be sensitive to the whole situation. What did I see in the students?  Signs of exhaustion in a long held downward facing dog?  Hands not placed in the best way to safely support weight?  The need for a block, or a blanket?

How much intervention is helpful?  How much is too much? Let Rebecca teach, and attend the students.  Don't get in the way, but go where she isn't.  Attend to what she cannot.
Consider the first of the principles known as Yamas: Ahimsa - non-harming.

A couple of times during the class, I lost my concentration.  Tired of observing, I found my mind withdrawn, turned inward, idling.   Like waking up after dozing off, I turned my attention back to the room, letting the information in and processing it. Paying attention again.

Then the class was lying down for Savasana. The setting sun streamed light through the front window on a couple of students.  I quietly went up and pulled the shades closed.

The Busy Dogwood Tree

The dogwood tree just outside the kitchen window is pretty in spring with its 4-petaled white blossoms.  Now, at the end of summer, it is full of ripening round fruit.

Sunday, I spent a couple of hours at the table reading and writing, and activity in the dogwood was bustling.  First, I noticed a young grackle hopping through the branches.  Different birds, including robins and cardinals, came and went.  A dark colored gray squirrel scampered through the branches. I was impressed by the amount of activity, but none of it surprised me.

Then, scampering along one of the higher branches, I saw a smaller animal with a short skinny tail.  An eastern ground squirrel - what I grew up calling a chipmunk - up here in the tree.

I was struck by the variety of animals using the tree, in a relatively short time in the middle of the day, and I'm sure there are dozens (at least) of insects and spiders that dwell there too.

Changing Habits

A significant shift in life can start with changing one habit.  Even a small thing, that doesn't seem directly related to the bigger change that happens.  Something about the process reminds the mind that things don't have to be the same, that assumptions about who we are and how we act are just stories we bind ourselves in.  It's our reality, but it isn't what has to be our reality.

So open the door to change a crack, and you may find yourself storming through a wide-flung portal into an exciting future.

I've identified a deep seated aspect of how I relate to the world.  I avoid conflict.  I could give a thousand examples, across the years and in both my work and personal life.  Conflict bothers me, and I would rather avoid it, even if it results in even more harm in the end.

While I've begun to grapple with that, and put energy into pulling back from my default behaviors and openly facing conflict, which often can be positive and productive, I still have a long way to go.

That's a big thing, much more than just a habit.  But I've recently identified a habit that, to me, seems related.  I've observed that when I'm expecting an important email, and open my inbox, that even though I'm looking for that one email that I know is important, and perhaps even asked for, I'll find myself scrolling through the chaff, deleting emails I don't want.  Basically, I'm avoiding opening the important email until I've sorted through all the unimportant ones and have no excuse left.

Why not just go for the important one first?  Perhaps it will be good news, perhaps disappointing.  But I've already recognized its importance.  Why waste time on the rest?

So that's the habit I'm going to change.  Important email?  Potential for conflict or disappointment?  It gets attention first.

Intuition

Yesterday afternoon, I had completed some writing exercises from Rod Stryker's book "The Four Desires," and I thought a session of yoga nidra would be good.

Yoga nidra, or "yogic sleep," is a guided practice that aims to put the body in a deep state of relaxation (theta wave sleep) while keeping the mind aware.  It is said to offer access to the subconscious mind.

When I finished, about 3:30, I thought "I want to go outside and weed the strawberry patch."  So I did - no second guessing.  It was hot and humid, but the spot I was working was mostly shaded.

The weeds - mostly violets and some grasses - were easy to pull due to last night's rain.  I fixed up the bed - arranging some runners from the strawberries into vacant spots, and refreshing the mulch of straw.

I tied up the tomato plants, which have grown heavy with vine and fruit, pulling their wire frames over toward the lilac bush.    I also put up some more protection from browsing deer around my little fig tree, which has resprouted after being nearly killed by the cold last winter.

After weeks of glancing out the kitchen window and thinking I should work in the garden, I simply went and did it.  I was struck by how clear I was, coming out of yoga nidra, about what I wanted to do.

After the Rain

The sun was out this morning after last evening's storm.  I walked up the street to see if the sun was shining on the neighbor's Rose of Sharon flowers.  They were mostly shaded, and most were not unfurled anyway.

I noticed there were a lot of birds, and several squirrels, out in the yards.  I guess the rain softening things up triggered extra activity by the animals.

Without anything particular in mind, I wandered down the street.   When I reached the end, I decided to walk down into the park.  The tree leaves and grass were rich colors of green in the morning light.  I walked over between some large tulip poplars to a spot where the sun was shining brightly and did a few stretches, facing west so I could see my shadow and enjoy the warmth on my back.

Then I heard the water rushing in the creek, and wandered over to the bank.  On the opposite side was the place where I sometimes sit and meditate.  The water was high this morning, flowing completely over the rock that at other times channels the flow past the log dam.

Walking home, I saw a spider web glistening on a tree by the path.  The web had trapped a large insect, and the spider, also pretty large, was tending to his catch.  The web was suspended about 8 feet up from the outer leaves of the tree.  The whole construction moved with the breeze, the web amazingly strong, and the leaves acting as shock absorbers.  The orb made of fine threads of silk, sticky like glue and glistening with droplets in spots, is a fantastic construction, and worthy of attention for ten breaths.