steady patter
rain on leaves
gently shifting pattern
blending sounds
far and close
wet, drippy
moisture pulled from the sky
down to earth
watering the world
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
Monday, September 28, 2015
Seeing More
I know my brain ignores most of what I could see. Incapable of processing everything, it has deep patterns of what to notice, and what to ignore.
How can I see more? Walk more slowly. Even better, stop. Let the first wave pass, and keep looking. Soften, let the gaze become wider, more peripheral, more three-dimensional. Observe in different ways - colors, shapes, textures, movement, light, shadow, edges and boundaries.
Eventually mind wants to move on, tires of this view, begins to shut down, to assume all is seen. Make it stay, recommit awareness, and find a deeper layer of perception.
How can I see more? Walk more slowly. Even better, stop. Let the first wave pass, and keep looking. Soften, let the gaze become wider, more peripheral, more three-dimensional. Observe in different ways - colors, shapes, textures, movement, light, shadow, edges and boundaries.
Eventually mind wants to move on, tires of this view, begins to shut down, to assume all is seen. Make it stay, recommit awareness, and find a deeper layer of perception.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Gardener
A few weeks ago I began an indoor garden, intending to grow herbs over the winter. I've tried this before, but failed to pay enough attention to the most important thing - the amount and quality of light. Plants would sprout, show promise, then wither away, along with my motivation.
This time I have a bright light, recommended for the purpose. I have basil and spinach sprouts, and one pepper.
Tending the little garden in the furnace room doesn't take much time, but it does take regular attention. I'm still learning how well the pots hold moisture - how much and how often to water. I check twice a day - always misting - sometimes watering - sometimes repotting.
Planting the seeds, seeing them sprout, and watching the plants develop day by day, is a joy. It also teaches me the limits of what I can do. I have to provide soil, water, and light. Beyond that, it just takes time. Time for the program of the plant to run, and the biochemistry to occur, as the plant builds itself from air, soil, water, and sunlight.
This time I have a bright light, recommended for the purpose. I have basil and spinach sprouts, and one pepper.
Tending the little garden in the furnace room doesn't take much time, but it does take regular attention. I'm still learning how well the pots hold moisture - how much and how often to water. I check twice a day - always misting - sometimes watering - sometimes repotting.
Planting the seeds, seeing them sprout, and watching the plants develop day by day, is a joy. It also teaches me the limits of what I can do. I have to provide soil, water, and light. Beyond that, it just takes time. Time for the program of the plant to run, and the biochemistry to occur, as the plant builds itself from air, soil, water, and sunlight.
Thursday, September 24, 2015
A Little Deeper Into the Present
I've been pursuing a couple of different things. One is being tuned in to my perception of conflict and my habit of avoiding it. Somehow, a long time ago, I learned to invent conflict - to imagine what other people were thinking and how they would react - and then to imagine how I would deal with the situation. Using up energy avoiding imaginary crises - but creating real stress for myself in the process.
The other is the idea of creating space between things - finishing one thing before turning to another - or, if not finishing, at least setting it aside for the moment, knowing why it is unfinished and that it is OK to leave until the time is right to come back to it again.
It occurred to me today, that the value I found in the space between things was really about not carrying stress, anxiety or disappointment forward from one thing to another. It wasn't the specific action or even the amount of time that mattered, but rather arriving at a feeling of resolution, of not carrying any baggage into the next moment. This is important, because I now know how to tell if the space is enough. Sometimes it will be quick and easy to find, other times it may be quite difficult. But it is worth staying in the space-creating process until the weight lifts, the fog clears, the baggage is left behind.
So obvious to me now how useless, indeed harmful, is my pattern of creating baggage out of nothing to carry forward into my interactions. Why not take each situation with an open heart, free from imagined stories, and resolve any real conflicts that arise so that the next moment can be enjoyed with clarity and freedom?
The other is the idea of creating space between things - finishing one thing before turning to another - or, if not finishing, at least setting it aside for the moment, knowing why it is unfinished and that it is OK to leave until the time is right to come back to it again.
It occurred to me today, that the value I found in the space between things was really about not carrying stress, anxiety or disappointment forward from one thing to another. It wasn't the specific action or even the amount of time that mattered, but rather arriving at a feeling of resolution, of not carrying any baggage into the next moment. This is important, because I now know how to tell if the space is enough. Sometimes it will be quick and easy to find, other times it may be quite difficult. But it is worth staying in the space-creating process until the weight lifts, the fog clears, the baggage is left behind.
So obvious to me now how useless, indeed harmful, is my pattern of creating baggage out of nothing to carry forward into my interactions. Why not take each situation with an open heart, free from imagined stories, and resolve any real conflicts that arise so that the next moment can be enjoyed with clarity and freedom?
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
Bright Venus
I was up early this morning to take in a 6:30 yoga class before going to work. The sky was pretty clear, and the stars in their early fall positions - Orion prominent, the Pleiades a bit higher in the sky. Venus was exceptionally bright, due to it's position in orbit. This is, it turns out, it's brightest week.
It's this time of year, four years ago, that I started going to the early morning class on Wednesday and began to notice Orion and the other fall stars in the sky. I hope we get some good sky viewing weather this year. Some star gazing will be good for me.
It's this time of year, four years ago, that I started going to the early morning class on Wednesday and began to notice Orion and the other fall stars in the sky. I hope we get some good sky viewing weather this year. Some star gazing will be good for me.
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Another Season
Fall has arrived - on the calendar, in the heavens, and in a turn to decidedly cooler weather.
"It feels like fall." I'm sure everyone has their own sense of what that means. It may be hard to describe, but there's a lightness in the air and the morning sun angles in a bit more. There's a fresh smell, but much different than that of spring. There's a little less daylight each day. Like many things that change slowly, the change each day is barely noticeable, but over the course of a week or more is quite apparent.
Just before the cold front moved in, the yard and woods were busy with flocks of robins and other birds, moving through ahead of the weather. It's a transitory time of year. Soon we'll have a warm spell, and the robins will move back with it - following the pulses as fall moves toward winter - edging further south until the cold season truly sets in, and the flocks of robins disappear until spring.
"It feels like fall." I'm sure everyone has their own sense of what that means. It may be hard to describe, but there's a lightness in the air and the morning sun angles in a bit more. There's a fresh smell, but much different than that of spring. There's a little less daylight each day. Like many things that change slowly, the change each day is barely noticeable, but over the course of a week or more is quite apparent.
Just before the cold front moved in, the yard and woods were busy with flocks of robins and other birds, moving through ahead of the weather. It's a transitory time of year. Soon we'll have a warm spell, and the robins will move back with it - following the pulses as fall moves toward winter - edging further south until the cold season truly sets in, and the flocks of robins disappear until spring.
Sunday, September 13, 2015
Observing Mind
I'm talking with my yoga classes about observing mind versus thinking mind. Cultivating observing mind is a key yoga practice.
The observing mind is the mind that takes in the continuous stream of present reality. It's the mind that sees, hears, smells, touches, and generally delights in the world, without analysis or judgement.
In contrast, thinking mind is the judge, the analyst, the story teller, the mind that makes a narrative to try to make sense of the world, but which so often runs amok, ruminating on the past, spinning in anxiety about the future, creating suffering out of thin air.
We need the thinking mind. It isn't inherently bad. Yet, bringing more balance between the two, by cultivating observing mind and spending more time in the stream of the present moment, is a very worthwhile endeavor.
Perhaps an early step on the path is to recognize that thinking mind is not the only mind, and that the observing mind is real, and different. At the end of one class today, a student said it was a new concept to her, and relayed that as I spoke about it she felt as if the right side of her brain became active, as it began to think about what she was hearing. I don't know about the perception of thinking in one side of the brain - but it seems as if, in being aware that she was beginning to think, she was also aware that her mind had just been occupied in a different, non-thinking way.
The observing mind is the mind that takes in the continuous stream of present reality. It's the mind that sees, hears, smells, touches, and generally delights in the world, without analysis or judgement.
In contrast, thinking mind is the judge, the analyst, the story teller, the mind that makes a narrative to try to make sense of the world, but which so often runs amok, ruminating on the past, spinning in anxiety about the future, creating suffering out of thin air.
We need the thinking mind. It isn't inherently bad. Yet, bringing more balance between the two, by cultivating observing mind and spending more time in the stream of the present moment, is a very worthwhile endeavor.
Perhaps an early step on the path is to recognize that thinking mind is not the only mind, and that the observing mind is real, and different. At the end of one class today, a student said it was a new concept to her, and relayed that as I spoke about it she felt as if the right side of her brain became active, as it began to think about what she was hearing. I don't know about the perception of thinking in one side of the brain - but it seems as if, in being aware that she was beginning to think, she was also aware that her mind had just been occupied in a different, non-thinking way.
Saturday, September 12, 2015
A Little Rain
Rain came today, after a stretch of more than two weeks of dry, end of summer weather. After some intermittent showers, one of which caught me at the farmer's market, umbrella warm and dry back in the car, the peak of the storm came in early afternoon.
Not a cloudburst, but steady rain, pelting down onto the street, rooftops and yards. I opened a couple of windows to let in the cool, fresh air, and more of the sound of raindrops splashing to earth. It's a calming sound, especially when the whole landscape - all the flora and fauna - are welcoming the much needed moisture.
It was a perfect setting for an after lunch nap, so I lay down on the floor, closed my eyes, and listened to the patter of the rain until I fell asleep. When I woke, the rain was over; the sky a little brighter, and I was a little more refreshed.
Not a cloudburst, but steady rain, pelting down onto the street, rooftops and yards. I opened a couple of windows to let in the cool, fresh air, and more of the sound of raindrops splashing to earth. It's a calming sound, especially when the whole landscape - all the flora and fauna - are welcoming the much needed moisture.
It was a perfect setting for an after lunch nap, so I lay down on the floor, closed my eyes, and listened to the patter of the rain until I fell asleep. When I woke, the rain was over; the sky a little brighter, and I was a little more refreshed.
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
Not In a Hurry
I left work and walked to the Metro station for the ride down to Takoma Park and yoga class. I walked up to the gate, held my wallet up to the sensor as I always do, and .... nothing. I tried again. I took the SmartTrip card about half way out of my wallet, and then heard an expression of impatience behind me.
OK, someone's in a hurry. I stepped out of the way and a woman rushed up, ran through the gate and up the stairs. I let a couple more people go through, then stepped up again with the card out and made it through. I got up to the top of the escalator just as the train pulled away.
I'm glad she caught the train. I hope her hurry was because she really needed to be somewhere quickly, and not just because she lives in that impatient, hurried, exasperated space.
There were some large cumulus clouds in the sky to the northeast - bright white against the early evening sky - and reflected in the glass windows of some of the tall buildings. Had my card worked better, I would have been down the tracks on the train with Ms Hurrypants. But then I'd have missed the clouds. Better to not be in a hurry. The next train delivered me to Takoma, in a fine state of mind.
OK, someone's in a hurry. I stepped out of the way and a woman rushed up, ran through the gate and up the stairs. I let a couple more people go through, then stepped up again with the card out and made it through. I got up to the top of the escalator just as the train pulled away.
I'm glad she caught the train. I hope her hurry was because she really needed to be somewhere quickly, and not just because she lives in that impatient, hurried, exasperated space.
There were some large cumulus clouds in the sky to the northeast - bright white against the early evening sky - and reflected in the glass windows of some of the tall buildings. Had my card worked better, I would have been down the tracks on the train with Ms Hurrypants. But then I'd have missed the clouds. Better to not be in a hurry. The next train delivered me to Takoma, in a fine state of mind.
Monday, September 7, 2015
The Present Weekend
It's 8 pm Monday evening. Labor Day weekend 2015 is coming to a close. I feel very good. I had a busy weekend - time to catch up on a lot of stacked up business from the summer - and I accomplished a lot.
All sorts of things - from finally making it to the wine store to pick up an order from over a month ago, to planning for next summer's family reunion, to planting some herbs for an indoor garden, yoga teaching, fall schedule planning, listening to and playing some music, reading a few random news articles that caught my attention, washing some laundry and cooking dinner. I had a good walk, a good bike ride, and worked on a back-bend practice all 3 days. I called Dad for a chat, sorted out a pile of mail, and organized and filed a few more papers (though there's still a stack). I looked at my retirement budget, and set up a little spreadsheet to track the family trust account a little better. And a few more things.
All this was aided, at least, because I stopped using my iPhone so much as a distraction and used it for a to-do list that I kept with me all weekend. I kept adding more to it because I was getting so many things done. Most of the things that aren't checked off are ones that I need more information about, and I have emails and messages out requesting the answers.
I've also had really good, balanced energy. When I felt my focus and energy flagging, I'd switch and do something more active for a while.
I talked with my yoga classes about the observing mind and the thinking mind. The observing mind is always in the present, taking in what is happening. The thinking mind, sometimes, seems determined to keep me out of the present. Yoga cultivates and strengthens the observing mind. It helps me stay focused on what is before me now. When I couple that with having clear intention about what to do, I accomplish a lot.
All sorts of things - from finally making it to the wine store to pick up an order from over a month ago, to planning for next summer's family reunion, to planting some herbs for an indoor garden, yoga teaching, fall schedule planning, listening to and playing some music, reading a few random news articles that caught my attention, washing some laundry and cooking dinner. I had a good walk, a good bike ride, and worked on a back-bend practice all 3 days. I called Dad for a chat, sorted out a pile of mail, and organized and filed a few more papers (though there's still a stack). I looked at my retirement budget, and set up a little spreadsheet to track the family trust account a little better. And a few more things.
All this was aided, at least, because I stopped using my iPhone so much as a distraction and used it for a to-do list that I kept with me all weekend. I kept adding more to it because I was getting so many things done. Most of the things that aren't checked off are ones that I need more information about, and I have emails and messages out requesting the answers.
I've also had really good, balanced energy. When I felt my focus and energy flagging, I'd switch and do something more active for a while.
I talked with my yoga classes about the observing mind and the thinking mind. The observing mind is always in the present, taking in what is happening. The thinking mind, sometimes, seems determined to keep me out of the present. Yoga cultivates and strengthens the observing mind. It helps me stay focused on what is before me now. When I couple that with having clear intention about what to do, I accomplish a lot.
Friday, September 4, 2015
A Giant Shadow
I like shadows. I'm not sure why, but the two-dimensional, monochromatic abstractions of the world fascinate me. On my way to work, there's a large grassy lawn - really large, much bigger than the typical lawn here. It is also on a slope, so it rises up into view. On the eastern edge of this lawn is a tall white pine tree, with branches that have been trimmed off following damage from storms, so there's a long bare trunk and then a number of asymmetrical branches.
In the early morning, as the sun crests the hill to the east, the tree casts a giant shadow out across the lawn for several hundred feet. A projection of the tree onto a gently curving surface, it's sheer size - the shadow is much larger than the tree itself - and simplicity compel attention.
In the early morning, as the sun crests the hill to the east, the tree casts a giant shadow out across the lawn for several hundred feet. A projection of the tree onto a gently curving surface, it's sheer size - the shadow is much larger than the tree itself - and simplicity compel attention.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
A Yoga Anniversary
In early September last year, I taught my first yoga class. I planned it for about three weeks, and thought it went OK. More classes followed, with lots more preparation, and I began to get more comfortable in the role.
It was January though, before I taught a class without planning it out. I just didn't have the time to do it, but found that I had enough stored up from the 4 prior months. Over time, I did less specific planning, and more general preparation. I stopped worrying that I wouldn't know what to do, and began thinking about how to keep things fresh and interesting - how to avoid a rut of teaching the same thing the same way for too long.
I explored some different approaches, including picking 5 poses for a week and using them in all my classes, from beginning to advanced, in appropriate ways. I taught short courses, focusing on breath for one, and shoulders for another, which focused me to dig deeper and carried out into my general teaching.
Now, heading into the fall term, I have almost 330 hours of teaching behind me. I'm at ease in the teaching role, but always looking to broaden and deepen my teaching. Each class has unique challenges and opportunities. Tonight I had a good number of new students - some new to the studio, and some new to yoga. I have to be observant and adaptable - which I always should be, but it's more obvious in this situation. I think it went OK.
Much has changed in the past year, and I want it to keep changing. I never want to find that I'm just "phoning it in."
It was January though, before I taught a class without planning it out. I just didn't have the time to do it, but found that I had enough stored up from the 4 prior months. Over time, I did less specific planning, and more general preparation. I stopped worrying that I wouldn't know what to do, and began thinking about how to keep things fresh and interesting - how to avoid a rut of teaching the same thing the same way for too long.
I explored some different approaches, including picking 5 poses for a week and using them in all my classes, from beginning to advanced, in appropriate ways. I taught short courses, focusing on breath for one, and shoulders for another, which focused me to dig deeper and carried out into my general teaching.
Now, heading into the fall term, I have almost 330 hours of teaching behind me. I'm at ease in the teaching role, but always looking to broaden and deepen my teaching. Each class has unique challenges and opportunities. Tonight I had a good number of new students - some new to the studio, and some new to yoga. I have to be observant and adaptable - which I always should be, but it's more obvious in this situation. I think it went OK.
Much has changed in the past year, and I want it to keep changing. I never want to find that I'm just "phoning it in."
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Watching the Energy
I've been watching my energy ebb and flow the past few days, as I readjust to eastern time and work schedule, while gradually catching up from the energy outflow of the trip.
Sometimes my energy doesn't match the activity I think I should be doing. Being at work, and feeling completely like not being at work, is an extreme example. Being alert and energetic late in the evening is another - how then, to get to sleep?
I observe these mismatches, and wonder how to bring things into more balance, so I'm really ready to do each thing, and have the right energy at the right time.
Getting enough rest, and eating well, help. I also know a number of yogic practices, some energizing, others calming, that are useful. I'm trying to get balance and alignment before finding myself too deep into a situation with the wrong energy quality.
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