I walked home from Takoma Park this evening. It's 2.8 miles, according to Google Maps. Mostly north, and just a little bit west. I walked across the grass near the Metro station. Robins and starlings, foraging in the wet lawn, flew ahead of me, landed, and then flew again as I approached. Eventually they all figured to fly away from my path, not further along it.
I was two-thirds of the way home before I woke up to how perfect the evening felt. Seventy-nine degrees, but low, or at least moderate, humidity - a thoroughly pleasant temperature to walk in shorts and a sleeveless top - my yoga teaching attire.
The moon was rising behind me, the sun setting ahead and off in the west. In one yard, three rabbits chased each other around. Young ones, from this year, I think. A tall conifer in the yard had branches clear down to the ground, which seemed to be their safe-haven. Around the corner and down the hill a bit, and another young rabbit nibbled on a streetside planting. Off in the distance, a balloon, escaped from a party perhaps, floated in the pale evening sky.
Birds sang some songs for the end of the day - less boisterous than the morning songs - and then some insects started up their night songs. As I passed the Rose of Sharon bushes in the neighbor's yard, I saw that all the blooms were rolled up for the night. They'll unfurl again in the early morning light.
My facebook feed tonight had this quote - attributed to "Native Americans:"
"When the blood in your veins returns to the sea, and the earth in your bones returns to the ground, perhaps then you will remember that this land does not belong to you, it is you who belongs to this land."
Whether or not the thought is actually Native American in origin, it captures how I often feel - that I'm just a part of the world - connected to the broad world of life, matter and energy around me, and connected back through time to the very beginning of it all.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Light
Where yesterday was gray and dark, this morning is filled with light. As the Earth turns toward the sun, the morning light steadily evolves and grows.
A gentle breeze riffles through the trees, bringing movement to the shadow patterns cast on lawn, wall, and window shade.
Where yesterday's rain encouraged a day indoors, listening to the patter of drops on roof and window, today's invitation is to come outside, into the light.
A gentle breeze riffles through the trees, bringing movement to the shadow patterns cast on lawn, wall, and window shade.
Where yesterday's rain encouraged a day indoors, listening to the patter of drops on roof and window, today's invitation is to come outside, into the light.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Rain
Often, here in Maryland, heavy rain comes with a thunderstorm. But today, there was no thunder, and no strong wind. Just a very thick, dark layer of clouds that brought rain throughout the day - sometimes light, and sometimes a heavy downpour.
In the afternoon, during one of the heaviest periods, I walked down to see how high the creek was running. The water ran fast in the gutters down the street, and every sidewalk and driveway added to the flow. At the bottom of the street, the water spread out in a layer into the cul-de-sac.
Where our street ends and the park begins, a tributary stream that drains down from Georgia Avenue and has been put underground in a storm drain, rushed loud and muddy out of the culvert, pouring between nearly full stream banks. Having spent quite a bit of time in that stream doing trash cleanup and invasive plant removal, I was surprised at how much water was flowing and how high up the banks it was.
A hundred yards or so downstream, the tributary makes a sharp bend, passes under a foot bridge, and merges with the main body of Sligo Creek. While well within its banks, the creek was very high. It covered the rocks near the playground, including the one I like to sit on, and rushed past the base of the tree trunks. Plastic bottles, and an occasional tree branch, floated down on the fast current.
The rain was cool, but not chilling. Even with my umbrella, I was thoroughly soaked by the time I got back to the house.
In the afternoon, during one of the heaviest periods, I walked down to see how high the creek was running. The water ran fast in the gutters down the street, and every sidewalk and driveway added to the flow. At the bottom of the street, the water spread out in a layer into the cul-de-sac.
Where our street ends and the park begins, a tributary stream that drains down from Georgia Avenue and has been put underground in a storm drain, rushed loud and muddy out of the culvert, pouring between nearly full stream banks. Having spent quite a bit of time in that stream doing trash cleanup and invasive plant removal, I was surprised at how much water was flowing and how high up the banks it was.
A hundred yards or so downstream, the tributary makes a sharp bend, passes under a foot bridge, and merges with the main body of Sligo Creek. While well within its banks, the creek was very high. It covered the rocks near the playground, including the one I like to sit on, and rushed past the base of the tree trunks. Plastic bottles, and an occasional tree branch, floated down on the fast current.
The rain was cool, but not chilling. Even with my umbrella, I was thoroughly soaked by the time I got back to the house.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Relaxing the Mind
Relaxing the body means letting go of tension in the muscles. Relaxing the mind means letting go of fear, anxiety, the need to react to every stimulus, the need to be "doing."
When the mind has space, not ruminating over some anxiety, or bombarded with stimuli and demands, then there's room for creativity, room to dream of future possibilities, room for choice.
Meditating helps me find mental space. Taking time - a few hours or a day - to follow whatever comes up wherever it leads - is another space maker.
The time to make and explore mental space is not wasted time - far from it - it is the least wasted time of all.
When the mind has space, not ruminating over some anxiety, or bombarded with stimuli and demands, then there's room for creativity, room to dream of future possibilities, room for choice.
Meditating helps me find mental space. Taking time - a few hours or a day - to follow whatever comes up wherever it leads - is another space maker.
The time to make and explore mental space is not wasted time - far from it - it is the least wasted time of all.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Space to Move
Being constricted, constrained, is not a good feeling, whether in body or mind. I function best with space - space to move, space to make choices, space to experience.
"Tension is the enemy of space," says yoga teacher Jenny Otto. Relax, make space, find space.
Relax your body, and it functions better. I've been playing around with this on my regular walking commutes. When I intentionally relax, feeling tension drain away, I walk faster without even trying to.
My quest in yoga practice is similar - relax, and body has more room to move. Less effort, better results.
"Tension is the enemy of space," says yoga teacher Jenny Otto. Relax, make space, find space.
Relax your body, and it functions better. I've been playing around with this on my regular walking commutes. When I intentionally relax, feeling tension drain away, I walk faster without even trying to.
My quest in yoga practice is similar - relax, and body has more room to move. Less effort, better results.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Morning Light
I'm enjoying the early morning light in Colorado. There's a lightness and brightness from the clear air and altitude - colors are crisp and vibrant and edges sharp under the pale blue sky.
There isn't even a hint of a breeze to ruffle the leaves. Just before the summer solstice, the light comes more gradually, intensifying slowly, deepening the contrast between the light and shadow on the tree trunks.
Now, a little gust ripples through the lower branches, then quickly dies away to stillness.
There isn't even a hint of a breeze to ruffle the leaves. Just before the summer solstice, the light comes more gradually, intensifying slowly, deepening the contrast between the light and shadow on the tree trunks.
Now, a little gust ripples through the lower branches, then quickly dies away to stillness.
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Bicycles
My first memories of riding a bike are of learning on a large tired single speed bike in Lewis, Kansas. Go a few feet, wobble, fall over. Try again - eventually balancing and heading off down the street - so proud!
As a teen, I rode the high handled, banana seated bikes of the 60s, jumping curbs and popping a "wheelie" now and then. Then, in high school, I got a Gitane 10 speed. I rode it sometimes to high school, enjoying the speed and the dance of finding the right gear to ride.
I didn't ride for quite a few years in Alaska - then in the late 80's got another bike. On nice days it was fun to ride. I went the 10 miles or so around the Mendenhall Valley a few times, and one summer I commuted the 9 miles from home to work a few times.
Our bicycles, and much other gear, were lost in the garage fire before we moved to Maryland. A couple of years after moving, we bought new bikes, but didn't ride them much - just a few short jaunts on the Sligo Creek Trail.
This spring brought a new interest in cycling. Pam got interested in participating in Senior Olympics events, and we got out on the bikes for some longer rides up and down the trail.
I began riding my bike on Sundays over to Takoma Park to teach yoga, and find it an ideal way to commute - a nice ride down the parkway and then a good workout climb out of the creek valley.
We heard about the Washington and Old Dominion railway trail from a friend a couple of weeks ago. Today we drove out to Leesburg, Virginia, to get a 20 mile ride out and back on the western end of the trail. It was a lovely day, and this is the nicest trail and ride we've been on yet. Bicycles are so refined now - lighter, more responsive, and mechanically smoother. But the feeling of riding - the joy of propelling myself along the trail, feeling the breeze in my face - finding the right gear to move smoothly - making the effort seem effortless - is still the same as it has always been.
As a teen, I rode the high handled, banana seated bikes of the 60s, jumping curbs and popping a "wheelie" now and then. Then, in high school, I got a Gitane 10 speed. I rode it sometimes to high school, enjoying the speed and the dance of finding the right gear to ride.
I didn't ride for quite a few years in Alaska - then in the late 80's got another bike. On nice days it was fun to ride. I went the 10 miles or so around the Mendenhall Valley a few times, and one summer I commuted the 9 miles from home to work a few times.
Our bicycles, and much other gear, were lost in the garage fire before we moved to Maryland. A couple of years after moving, we bought new bikes, but didn't ride them much - just a few short jaunts on the Sligo Creek Trail.
This spring brought a new interest in cycling. Pam got interested in participating in Senior Olympics events, and we got out on the bikes for some longer rides up and down the trail.
I began riding my bike on Sundays over to Takoma Park to teach yoga, and find it an ideal way to commute - a nice ride down the parkway and then a good workout climb out of the creek valley.
We heard about the Washington and Old Dominion railway trail from a friend a couple of weeks ago. Today we drove out to Leesburg, Virginia, to get a 20 mile ride out and back on the western end of the trail. It was a lovely day, and this is the nicest trail and ride we've been on yet. Bicycles are so refined now - lighter, more responsive, and mechanically smoother. But the feeling of riding - the joy of propelling myself along the trail, feeling the breeze in my face - finding the right gear to move smoothly - making the effort seem effortless - is still the same as it has always been.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Hydrangea and Mulberry
Hydrangeas are beginning to bloom. Compared to some of the earlier spring plants, they take their time - fully leafing out before beginning to bloom - pale green at first, then turning whitish and finally taking on color. Pink, or blue.
I stopped this morning to take in a blue one. I was on a sidewalk, outside a fence and lower down than the yard the plant was in. As a result, the blooms were at or above eye level. Once I stopped and settled, I began to notice other things. The textured matte green leaves. An ant exploring around the surface of one leaf. Then another ant up on one of the petals. I don't know what they find high on the plant to eat - or otherwise interest them. But I was impressed that they could explore all the way up the maze of stalks and branches, and then find their way back - which I assume that they do.
I walk under a large mulberry tree at one point on the path. Coming up to it, I saw a catbird fly in a branch - then, startled, it flew a little higher. Next thing I knew, a squirrel was running out a branch above me, the catbird seemingly in pursuit. Thunk - a mulberry hit my left cheek.
I stopped this morning to take in a blue one. I was on a sidewalk, outside a fence and lower down than the yard the plant was in. As a result, the blooms were at or above eye level. Once I stopped and settled, I began to notice other things. The textured matte green leaves. An ant exploring around the surface of one leaf. Then another ant up on one of the petals. I don't know what they find high on the plant to eat - or otherwise interest them. But I was impressed that they could explore all the way up the maze of stalks and branches, and then find their way back - which I assume that they do.
I walk under a large mulberry tree at one point on the path. Coming up to it, I saw a catbird fly in a branch - then, startled, it flew a little higher. Next thing I knew, a squirrel was running out a branch above me, the catbird seemingly in pursuit. Thunk - a mulberry hit my left cheek.
Summer is Here
As daily high temperatures rise into the 90s, I switch to my summer attire of shorts and t-shirt for the warm, and often damp, walk to work.
The showers in the fitness center bring a welcome freshening before I head up to the office.
The showers in the fitness center bring a welcome freshening before I head up to the office.
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Breath-Powered Yoga
Breathing is the most fundamental physical activity that I have conscious access to. My heart is always beating, but I can't change it's rhythm just by thinking about it. If I want to inhale..... Now! I can. I can speed up the breath, slow it down, and even pause it for a time. But if I'm not thinking about it, the breath just happens, some 17,000 times a day.
The muscles used to breath are strong. Breathing provides a natural rhythm of expansive and contractive energy that can be tapped to initiate movement. Rather than breathing while moving, or even synchronizing breath with movement, the breath can become the beginning of the movement, and propel its direction. Then the practice begins to deepen, until the entire movement is breathing.
When the breath is at the center of awareness, I can keep my body aligned so that the breath is privileged. I feel the entire body pulse with breath. Strenuous positions become easier as the muscles are fed a strong and steady supply of oxygen. Breath aligns rib cage and spine so that side bends and twists are both easier and deeper.
The expansiveness of inhale lifts and aligns, and the power of the core engaged to exhale moves the body. Breath-powered yoga is the term that came to mind when I began to explore this territory, moving beyond moving "with" the breath, to moving "from" the breath.
The muscles used to breath are strong. Breathing provides a natural rhythm of expansive and contractive energy that can be tapped to initiate movement. Rather than breathing while moving, or even synchronizing breath with movement, the breath can become the beginning of the movement, and propel its direction. Then the practice begins to deepen, until the entire movement is breathing.
When the breath is at the center of awareness, I can keep my body aligned so that the breath is privileged. I feel the entire body pulse with breath. Strenuous positions become easier as the muscles are fed a strong and steady supply of oxygen. Breath aligns rib cage and spine so that side bends and twists are both easier and deeper.
The expansiveness of inhale lifts and aligns, and the power of the core engaged to exhale moves the body. Breath-powered yoga is the term that came to mind when I began to explore this territory, moving beyond moving "with" the breath, to moving "from" the breath.
Monday, June 8, 2015
Ten Minutes
I had ten minutes this morning before I needed to leave the house. What to do?
I'll sit by the front window and see what happens.
The pre-dawn light is soft and dim. High up in the trees the leaves flutter and flow with the breeze.
Birds are singing - cardinals and cat birds.
A squirrel runs along a high, but thick, oak branch.
Two birds flash into view from the side of the house. One after the other, like two racers in an air show, they zoom across the street and disappear around the corner of a house, under the car port.
I look down to take a note, and when I look up, they are racing towards me, across the lawn and back around the side of the house.
Just after 6 am, a bank of high clouds emerges from the flat sky as sunlight kisses the eastern edge.
More birds flit around in the trees across the street.
I hear the distant roar of a jet.
It's time to leave.
As I walk up the street I see and hear a cardinal sitting on a wire, calling out his territory. Down the street, on another wire, sits the denizen of the next territory down, and up the street a bit I hear a third.
I stand for a few moments and watch the beautiful puffs of clouds lighting up in the morning sun.
I'll sit by the front window and see what happens.
The pre-dawn light is soft and dim. High up in the trees the leaves flutter and flow with the breeze.
Birds are singing - cardinals and cat birds.
A squirrel runs along a high, but thick, oak branch.
Two birds flash into view from the side of the house. One after the other, like two racers in an air show, they zoom across the street and disappear around the corner of a house, under the car port.
I look down to take a note, and when I look up, they are racing towards me, across the lawn and back around the side of the house.
Just after 6 am, a bank of high clouds emerges from the flat sky as sunlight kisses the eastern edge.
More birds flit around in the trees across the street.
I hear the distant roar of a jet.
It's time to leave.
As I walk up the street I see and hear a cardinal sitting on a wire, calling out his territory. Down the street, on another wire, sits the denizen of the next territory down, and up the street a bit I hear a third.
I stand for a few moments and watch the beautiful puffs of clouds lighting up in the morning sun.
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Today's Main Events
A little yoga practice first thing to loosen up.
Meditation
Prepare breakfast
Shower
Eat breakfast
Teach yoga
Eat lunch
Practice tai chi
Bike ride
Play piano
Teach yoga
Cook dinner
Eat dinner
Relax - think about a blog post
- pretty good day today.
Meditation
Prepare breakfast
Shower
Eat breakfast
Teach yoga
Eat lunch
Practice tai chi
Bike ride
Play piano
Teach yoga
Cook dinner
Eat dinner
Relax - think about a blog post
- pretty good day today.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Out in the Woods
I spent a couple of hours this morning in the woods. Nearing the summer solstice, the sunlight has a quality of depth and richness. Working along, pulling garlic mustard plants, I found that my tai chi practice had changed the way that I move. I felt more deliberate, more balanced, my arm flowing out to take a plant, then drawing it smoothly back to put in my bag.
Birdsong filled the air - the call of a wood thrush and the cat bird's stream of chirps, squeaks and whistles. A cool breeze rustled through the canopy of leaves, making the light shimmer. I pulled up a wineberry plant and was amazed at the variety of small, wiggling things teeming in the soil.
We were working not far from the Beltway. The stillness of the woods and the richness of life all around me seemed far away from the hum and roar of cars and trucks hurrying by beyond the concrete wall.
More and more, I identify not only with my human-ness, but with the broader community of life. The oak trees, the ferns, the cat birds, the dragonfly. Like me, they're constructed from a molecular program, the stuff of the earth and the energy of the sun. And like me, every individual being is unique, and utterly dispensable. I wonder if anyone has calculated the total number of DNA molecules on the planet.
Birdsong filled the air - the call of a wood thrush and the cat bird's stream of chirps, squeaks and whistles. A cool breeze rustled through the canopy of leaves, making the light shimmer. I pulled up a wineberry plant and was amazed at the variety of small, wiggling things teeming in the soil.
We were working not far from the Beltway. The stillness of the woods and the richness of life all around me seemed far away from the hum and roar of cars and trucks hurrying by beyond the concrete wall.
More and more, I identify not only with my human-ness, but with the broader community of life. The oak trees, the ferns, the cat birds, the dragonfly. Like me, they're constructed from a molecular program, the stuff of the earth and the energy of the sun. And like me, every individual being is unique, and utterly dispensable. I wonder if anyone has calculated the total number of DNA molecules on the planet.
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