Noon Prayer for Water...

Because it can't hurt.

Why We're Fasting

"The budget is a moral document. We can take care of the deficit and rebuild our infrastructure and strengthen our safety net by reducing military spending and eliminating corporate subsidies and tax loopholes for the rich. Or we can sink further into debt and amoral individualism by demonizing and starving the poor. Which side are you on?"

I just spent a couple of hours working on a blog post about hunger and lost potential and beans-growing-on-chain-link-fences and the Garden of Eden, and then I read this article by Mark Bittman in today's New York Times and learned from The Nation website that there is currently a new movement of 4,000 people fasting in order to protest Congressional budget cuts.

I've never fasted, and I'm not entirely sure if sitting around in my house with my stomach grumbling and my blood sugar crashed for a couple of days would realistically go very far in solving the problem of hunger - but if enough people fasted? Would it send a strong enough message? What do you think of this movement?

This moment. This moment. This moment. This moment.

The Great Way is not difficult
for those who have no preferences.
When love and hate are both absent
everything becomes clear and undisguised.
Make the smallest distinction, however,
and heaven and earth are set infinitely apart.
If you wish to see the truth
then hold no opinions for or against anything.
To set up what you like against what you dislike
is the disease of the mind.
When the deep meaning of things is not understood
the mind's essential peace is disturbed to no avail.
— Seng-Ts'an

Today was my usual day off from the office, when I typically try to spend time straightening out the domestic chaos we inflict on our surroundings during the course of the work week.

This morning I thought I'd meditate prior to cleaning, but before I could sit down I realized that the sound of the laboring water pump, running because I had a load of laundry splashing around in the wash, was going to make it challenging if not downright impossible for me to relax. It seemed a wise use of time to tackle cleaning the bathroom while I waited out the wash cycle. Then I would meditate.

I began by clearing off the surface of the vanity, grabbing the dark blue hand towel that rests there and spreading it over a high shelf so I could set the fragile items on top of it — but because I was only half paying attention to my task only the oval-shaped blue agate and quartz geode slice that I use as a coaster for the water glass ended up resting on top of the towel. Everything else, from the toothbrush holder to the soap dish, was set on the shelf itself. Quickly I washed the vanity's wood surface, and absent-mindedly turned to start putting all the items back in their places. I started by grabbing the hand towel and giving it a good yank off the shelf.

Ahh, the fateful yank was followed by a shattering CRASH, and I looked down to see the delicate geode had fallen and smashed against the hard tile. The hand towel flopped limply in my hand.

"It's just a thing." I quickly stated out loud, trying to head off the sting of disappointment I felt in seeing such a pretty object in shards. As I bent to sweep up the pieces I began looking for somewhere to (futilely) lay blame for the mishap and it occurred to me as I was doing so that the culprit was, and very often is, a lack of mindfulness. Had I been paying attention to what I was doing as I grabbed the towel off the shelf I would have remembered setting the delicate stone there, or felt its subtle weight as I began to pull the towel down. In fact, had I not set the stone where it couldn't be easily seen to begin with, the mishap could have been avoided altogether.

I realized then that my meditation couldn't wait until I was comfortably seated in silence in my tidy meditation room. It had to begin immediately, in the messy bathroom. It had to start with not allowing my attention to dart back and forth into the past and present — replaying, anticipating, remembering, expecting — but to keep it in firmly planted in the moment at hand instead. Mindfully setting the items out of the way. Mindfully washing the counter top. Mindfully retrieving each item.

Now, when you're observing something of beauty - watching the sun set or stepping back to admire the masterpiece you've just painted - being mindful of the moment is pretty easy. But when you're cleaning the bathroom...not so much. Who wants to be mindful of that? Yet who are we to judge one moment as being more important or beautiful than any other? Yes, I must admit that I prefer watching the moon rise to scrubbing the sink, but a preference, a state of mind based only on past experience and conditioning, has nothing at all to do with reality and is in fact a barrier to seeing things as they actually are. The reality is, there is nothing more important and miraculous than this very moment, whatever it is you find yourself doing.

I guess I'll keep the biggest part of the broken geode (still an adequate coaster) as a reminder to be more mindful.  And though I did prefer the slice whole, it's easily replaceable. Besides, its new craggy edges have revealed a simple lesson its smooth perfection could not.

The Floating World

"Renunciation is not giving up the things of this world, but accepting that they go away."

— Shunryu Suzuki

Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves; singing songs, drinking wine, diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; . . . refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call the floating world. . . 

— Asai Ryōi, Ukiyo Monogatari

Ok, that was enough silence, right?

Almost the entire week.

Some good things that happened while I was being silent: 

I won Ruth's giveaway and one of her lovely photographs will soon be gracing my home. If you visit her Etsy shop, I'm quite sure you can guess which print I chose from her offerings.

Also, I began reading the most incredible, awe-inspiring book late last night, when I really should have been sleeping. It's called The Scalpel and the Soul: Encounters with Surgery, the Supernatural, and the Healing Power of Hope, and if my eyes hadn't been on fire from sitting in front of the computer screen for 12+ hours I would have stayed up reading all night. You must check this book out.

I also stumbled across this inspiring video while I was visiting the Zen Peacemaker's website, and now I can't stop thinking about this incredibly selfless man and the choice he made to abandon his career as a chef to instead cook and take care of untouchables in his home town...



On Saturday night J and I watched the super moon rise across the hill from our house. The dog and kitties joined us. On Sunday night we finally made our way back to kirtan in Northampton, which included poetry between chants, and then stopped for a snack of fresh rice-paper wrapped spring rolls and local GoBerry yogurt before heading back home. Other than those two events my weekend was spent working, so I was especially appreciative of the breaks.

I made 7 pints of homemade vegetable broth from veggie clippings and shavings and odds and ends that I save in a zip-lock bag in the freezer. I find it really satisfying to not have to buy canned broth at the grocery store anymore because I'm using up scraps that would have otherwise been thrown on the compost heap.

One of the marketing projects I worked on for about 6 months, an interactive print catalog, was mentioned in Publisher's Weekly on Tuesday. Taking either photos or a video of this piece is still on the to-do list for my new design website. It's challenging to adequately capture a piece that moves/unfolds/spins/lifts etc. This one does all that.

Fresh, local maple syrup is back in stock at the coop nearby. It may be snowing and FREEZING outside, but spring has arrived. I can't see it or feel it, but I can pout it over my pancakes, damn it.

Whatever mysterious physical issue was plaguing me for the past three weeks seems to have subsided on its own. Phew.

My zabuton, though far from green (which is what I thought "olive" referred to — have you ever seen a gray olive?) is very comfy for meditation, and I've resumed my daily practice, though I've switched to sitting at night. Since I was concerned that the dog would adopt my meditation cushion as her new bed, infusing it with weird dog vibes and stinkiness, I've enlisted the help of The Terrifying Orange Dinosaur in standing guard over it...

I found this little guy laying on the side of a dirt road many years ago and brought him home thinking Vixen would be amused by his flashing green eyes and the realistic dinosaur roar that can be coaxed from his diminutive body with a yank on his pull-cord. She was definitely more traumatized than amused, and to this day the mere sight of him sends her slinking away with her tail between her legs. She seems to be able to sense his presence from rooms away and will now not even glance in the direction of the meditation room. I think I must have the only zabuton on earth that's watched over by an orange dinosaur.

Some not so good things:
When my brother went for his weekly visit with my dad last Sunday he found him more confused and agitated than he's ever been. None of the usual pleasant subjects of conversation could distract my dad from his ranting. We're not sure if this was a result of the super moon, the fluke of an especially bad day, or the start of a new phase of my father's dementia. Time will tell.

Krishna Das's kirtan at Kripalu on April 1st sold out before I thought to call for advance tickets. I've seen KD a lot in the past year, so it's ok...but still pretty disappointing, honestly. On the other hand, I can chant at home and get to the same place, which is the truly amazing thing about the practice of kirtan.

Overall, I'm feeling really overwhelmed with the world at the moment - both online and off. I think it's because I have a lot of social and work obligations to fulfill in the next few months and I know that I have a bad habit of making time for everything and everybody except myself. I've never been good at saying no, and I'm so empathetic that I soak up other people's energy like a sponge and often end up saturated and run down if I'm not really careful. I now fully understand why people go on extended retreats, but since that's impossible at the moment I'm going to have to learn to simply lay low when I can, and give myself permission to drop out when I need to/have the opportunity.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that what I'm looking for is no longer out there, and that's a first for me. I really thought it was! I thought it was in NYC, I thought it was in other people, I thought it was in having more stuff, I thought it was in my next promotion. But it's not — it's in me.  

Whoah! Who'd a thunk it?

I'd like to say that discovery makes things easier, but actually spiritual practice turns out to be a heck of a lot of work, and it takes time and commitment, and it doesn't "pay" in a way that's tangible to most people. But I'm determined to keep plugging away at it because everything I've read this year tells me I have lifetime after lifetime to progress towards the goal, and I have no proof of whether or not that's truer than anything else I've been taught, but I do like the concept a lot. It's comforting. Regardless, I wouldn't mind getting as far as possible in this particular life time. So please don't take it personally if it seems I'm often nowhere to be found.

I'm here in the hills, juggling.

Bloggers Day of Silence

Tomorrow I'll participate in the bloggers day of silence for Japan,
an opportunity to raise awareness and show respect for the devastation going on there,
a chance to be quiet and contemplate the ephemeral nature of the world around us and to send

healing intentions across the globe.

For Japan With Love is raising funds for Shelterbox, 

the organization I mentioned in last night's post. It's very easy to donate any amount here.
Thanks Carmella for the heads up about this.

A Bit of Green.

I'm sharing this green Tara for St. Patrick's Day via the Tricycle blog. In Japan she's known as Tarani Bosatsu, Buddha of enlightened activity. We could certainly use some more of that right now. Her mantra is oṃ tāre tuttāre ture svāhā...

Must. Think. Good. Thoughts.

 

I really appreciated reading this essay by Robyn Griggs Lawrence on The Huffington Post today, A Zen Master in a Time of Crisis.

And this week Ina of Unbound Confine introduced me to the beautiful photography blog Shoot Tokyo, where one can get a very personal look at life in that city right now.

I also loved learning about the organization ShelterBox, delivering emergency shelter kits to Japan and other disaster areas, all of it neatly and efficiently packed into a big green box. I like the fact that giving to charities like this one is super easy with a few clicks of the mouse.

Speaking of neatly and efficiently packed, I like to contemplate what my friend Jennifer might be doing in India right now, on the first leg of a three week trip that includes sharing her incredible inspiration and talent with the children at Ramana's Garden in Rishikesh, the subject of the inspiring video below. Did I mention that Jennifer somehow managed to lug 200lbs of art making supplies across the globe with her?

I love that Ithaca New York's last standing independent book store has become a community-owned cooperative 500 members strong instead of closing its doors. I think in the next couple of decades many of us are going to find we're part owners of our local grocery, bookstore, health clinic, community garden, dairy and who knows what else. It's increasingly difficult for small businesses to go it alone against multi-national corporations, but if we can band together and cooperate on a local level...good things could come of that, amazing things I think.

I like the sound of these carrot and zucchini vegetable burgers.  And speaking of carrots and zucchini, I love that there's a pile of seed packets from High Mowing organic seed company in VT strewn across the coffee table tonight.

I'm thankful that an olive green buckwheat zafu and zabuton meditation cushion and mat are on their way to me right now so I won't have to sit on my folded up meditation mat anymore and will have one more layer between myself and the frigid floor in the morning.

I appreciate that I can click here anytime to see my teacher teaching, 24/7.

I like this exuberant daily affirmation from a 3 year old...


I like that tonight's post on the blog Think Simple Now advised the following:
* Don’t add to the collective pain by talking and thinking of all that horror being flashed on our screens.
* Step aside, meditate and do your bit to raise the healing consciousness of humankind.
I like that they provided both a group and individual meditation prayer for healing.

Yes, turns out there are lots of big and small things we can do to reach out and help each other (and raise our own awareness) on a daily basis, buckwheat zabutons or not.

Photo by J.

Weathering Storms

The blogosphere is quiet this week. Here too. I wait for spring and better news, glued to horrific reports coming from Japan, heart-wrenching stories and images. There are so many storms to weather lately.

J says "thank you" for your comments on the last post. I'll sneak in a few more of his photos (like the one above) while I wait for the snow to melt. Whatever I've learned about photography I owe to looking at his photos for many years before I ever picked up a camera, not to mention his patient coaching once I did.

I'm bored. Let's Explore.

The landscape is bleak, the temperature is still hovering around 30 degrees, everything is covered in a soggy layer of dirty snow, and physically I feel unusually under the weather this weekend. So I've asked J if I can share some of his amazing photos with you, and he's agreed to let us begin by exploring this abandoned barn he photographed last September. I can almost feel the warm autumn sunlight and hear the crunch of rubble beneath my feet. Thanks J for the much needed burst of color, texture, and adventure...

 

 

You're all invited...

to a live, streaming kirtan with Krishna Das tomorrow night. Just tune in here at 8:45 (Eastern Time). Let's welcome spring with a few hours of chanting, and send some healing thoughts and intentions to the world, especially to Japan. J and I tuned in for this evening's kirtan and it was it amazing. We plan on tuning in again tomorrow.

"Welcome to the Ayurvedic Revolution"

I just finished reading the most encouraging article on the Holistic Primary Care site: Ayurveda in America: How India's Ancient Health Sciences Can Heal American Medicine,  and I think it does an amazing job of briefly but clearly explaining the core principles of Ayurveda to their audience, presumably allopathic physicians interested in learning more about the 4,000 year-old "science of life" that is  "quietly but steadily moving out of the margins and toward the forefront of modern health care."

I want to share more here from the article but honestly it's impossible to pick and choose just a few interesting quotes. I will share that the Ayurvedic program at nearby Kripalu is "is experiencing robust growth, driven partly by increased physician participation" and on the West Coast "the Scripps Center for Integrative Medicine, La Jolla, CA has launched a 4-part physician training course...that covers Ayurvedic pulse diagnosis, identification of constitution (Prakriti) and imbalances (Vikriti); intensive study of diet, nutrition and lifestyle, and basic Ayurvedic herbal medicine, and gives physicians a working knowledge of Ayurveda as well as a core skill set to take back to their clinics."

"Ayurveda is suddenly poised for prime time, as a growing number of American physicians embrace its tenets and practices." Is this part of the larger change I wrote about last night?

Yesterday I was sitting in a marketing meeting at work and a coworker mentioned a story they'd heard on the news about an 80-something year old man who is determined to live to 120. It sounded like anti-oxidant rich blueberries are playing a major role in his personal strategy. Someone else mentioned that his life story was actually one of loss — his mother sucummed to cancer when he was still quite young, and he lost his beloved wife to the disease more recently.

An editor sitting beside me observed aloud that perhaps this man is trying to heal their disease through his own life and efforts. I may have audibly caught my breath at her statement. It was one of those Zen slap moments, and I couldn't help but glance across the conference table at my boss and wonder if people are saying the same of me — successful designer/marketing director turned student of naturopathy after watching her father battle dementia and her mother cancer. They don't even know about J's mom, battling Stage 4 ovarian cancer.

I've had an interest in healing since faithful Lucy was gifted a vial of life-restoring elixer in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, but still, I don't think it's unreasonable to conclude that part of me is longing to heal what I've had to stand by and quietly, helplessly, watch break. Can one blame me for losing interest in making pieces of paper look pretty when everyone around me seems to be succumbing to one horrible illness or another? I do wish I could go back in time and learn something, anything, that could have prolonged my parent's years of health. Baring that, there's still time to learn something that may help prolong the life of others (and my own life, of course, though a goal of 120 years seems ambitious). Even if all I can manage is to take a few steps towards that goal, that's ok too.

If, in fact, we're all One (and intellectually I believe that to be true though I'm not yet lucky enough to live in that mindset all of the time) then healing an individual is healing the whole world. "I am the world and the world is me" my teacher explained to us last summer, "you are the world and the world is you." 

I hope you'll go check out the article and the amazing artwork of Pamela C. Turczyn that accompanies it.

A path towards grace

I can hardly wait until a new life begins for me. As it does each day. As it does each day. 

This is the second beautiful flower from an Amarylis J's dad gave us for Christmas.

The first flower bloomed months ago, in January. Is this typical?

Here's something interesting. The Kundalini Yogis are predicting that according to the Mayan calendar today, March 9th, is the start of the final wave of planetary consciousness — one that has been causing dramatic changes in the consciousness of human beings over the course of the last 16 billion years.


This final wave has to do with Unity and Co-creation. I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that we're already seeing a movement towards these two ideals world-wide.

The wave that came to an end today began back on Jan 4, 1999, and had to do with Ethics. The article I just read on the Spirit Voyage site asks us to think of the person we were in 1999. "Who were your friends? What were you doing? You are probably a radically different person today. The Galactic Wave (Jan, 4 1999 – March 9, 2011) is about Ethics - everything coming into integrity. Anything not in integrity must go. We are seeing this expressed as citizens of the Middle East tear down corrupt governments. All the secrets and lies are coming to the surface with Wikileaks. Religions, corporations, and public figures are being exposed wherever there is hypocrisy. This cycle is also about the advancement of technology which has played a major role in disseminating information around the globe."

Well, you know I have days when the old me likes to antagonize the new me. But thanks to Facebook I've recently been thinking quite a bit about the person I was 10 years ago compared to today, because Facebook is where I've acquired a small collection of faces and names from the past few decades — little portraits hanging on the wall — and it's like a gallery show curated by a schizophrenic. There's my birth name and attached to it a group of people who identify me with that name. Also stuck to that name are their particular memories and impressions of me — and since many of these people have been out of my life for a decade or more, well...their knowledge is a bit out-of-date. This is acceptable I suppose (let's face it, I don't know them anymore either) unless someone from the past wants to talk on the phone, or God forbid invite me out. I don't know quite how to explain where their drinking buddy went, and I don't know how to introduce the spiritual aspirant who took her place.

This must be part of the reason yogis take spiritual names, as a way of letting both old and new aquaintances know that they're interacting with a person who has been fundamentally changed by their practice and beliefs, and who has integrated them so fully into their lives that they are now an inseparable part of their identity, 24/7, 365 days a year, for the rest of their lives.

My soon-to-be sister-in-law has chosen a new name to take with her to the US — Grace. Beautiful implications. A new name for a new life, and I know that for her the process of working towards this new beginning has required a lot of patience, work, and trust. I feel very similar about my own path towards grace this year, so she and I already share something very meaningful in common.

Meanwhile, the Unity Wave is upon us. The article at Spirit Voyage goes on to say that at this point, great change is going to happen around the world at a fast clip — every 18 days. "This is the time when we transcend duality – us and them, good and bad into Unity Consciousness. We are moving from living from our mind and ego and dropping into our hearts to remember who we are and why we are on this planet."

I am beginning to figure out who I am. I'm just not entirely sure what her name is.

I Wonder as I Wander.

Yesterday morning so much snow and ice adhered to the outside of my car as I drove to work that when I finally arrived in the parking lot I found myself trapped inside the cab momentarily, like a deep space traveler stuck inside her rocket ship. Pushing my shoulder against the door from the inside, I began to wonder if I was doomed to drive around until spring, circling the office in my ice encased vehicle, watching my coworkers come and go and take their lunches.

In contrast, this morning the sun was beaming down on the old metal roof of our garage and its long row of glimmering icicles were falling, one by one, to the snow covered ground. J and I stopped and watched the proceedings. Before dropping each icicle rocked to and fro for a few seconds — then released. Suicide or homicide? The sun was surely killing them, but each was going with grace and at its own sweet pace, and as they fell I let out a loud "AHHHHHHHH!!!" for each one and then cracked myself up laughing, until J began to give me his concerned look. I could have done that until the entire edge of the roof was clear, but as it was I was running late for work again. 

Life makes me late. Little things distract me, like the way snow sticks to the toes of my black boots, making white wing tips, and how, when late day sunlight illuminates the fresh white mountaintops they remind me of generous scoops of vanilla ice cream in a sky blue bowl. Sometimes I'll catch sight of a crow sitting just perfectly on top of a lamp post, or flocks of pigeons flapping and circling together, proud of their gray pigeon wings and orange pigeon eyes, and then I have to stop and watch.

This afternoon I noticed a red heart-shaped candy on the ground, and a blind man in a cowboy hat and red and black lumberjack making his way down the sidewalk. I've noticed there's a beautiful uppercase "M" in the center of a brass bracket that supports the awning above the back door of the funeral home across the street from the office, and I also notice when there are one or two cars I've never seen before parked in the funeral home lot. Then I wonder if the visitors have had to go inside to make arrangements, and I wonder how they're coping with that task that nobody wants to have to do, and who've they've lost, or who they are about to lose. By then I need a different distraction, and try to notice instead the people driving by in cars, wondering where they're going and what they're listening to on the radio.

Yesterday as I walked to lunch I noticed that last summer's cherries had recently fallen from the branches of the trees and were scattered in the snow, shriveled up and going to waste, and I wondered why cedar waxwings hadn't come to devour them in autumn, why nature had let them miss that opportunity for sustenance. Maybe the flock had gotten distracted on the way there. Life makes me late with its group risings and individual fallings, and I'm never quite sure if I should be shouting "AHHHHHHH!" for their loss, or laughing for their liberation.

Mushroom, anyone?

(Photo from Abundant Life Seeds website)

Who thinks I need to grow one of these Stropharia rugoso-annulata in my garden this year? Described in the Abundant Life Seeds catalog as an "enormous, meaty mushroom, wine colored and exceptionally tasty" I'm thinking it would feed J and I for a month, though I doubt I would have the heart to lop such a magnificent mushroom down and cut it up. I'd be more likely to name it and take daily pictures of its development. It reminds me of the 3' tall mushroom I thought I'd discovered in the woods last October.

In all seriousness though, has anyone tried cultivating edible mushrooms in their garden? The Abundant Life Seeds catalog has quite the intriguing collection.

Manifesting some Changes...

"Intent is the mechanics through which spirit transforms itself into material reality." — Deepak Chopra, The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire

Remember my word and intention for this year? I have some great news.

Starting April 12th I'll be one of about 30 people participating in a revolutionary 7 month long "Farm to Pharmacy" internship program at Goldthread Herbal Apothecary here in Western MA. This will be a hands-on opportunity to learn the fundamentals of operating a medicinal herb farm, and the use & application of herbs, synthesizing traditional Chinese medicine, Ayurveda, & Western herbal traditions. We'll be covering everything from herb propagation & growing techniques, to introductory tongue & pulse diagnosis, to working with a supervisor to develop a customized treatment plan (including dietary & lifestyle recommendations and herbal formulation) for clients of a low-cost health clinic. There will be herb walks & plant identification on the farm & in local woodlands, and the unique opportunity to participate in the distillation of essential oils and hydrosols over a wood fire in an eighty-five gallon commercial still.

A month ago I had no idea this program even existed, and the story of how I stumbled across it is forthcoming — but anyone whose been reading Secret Notebooks for a while can imagine how appealing and exciting all of this sounds to me. I came home from work one night with a printout of the curriculum that I'd discovered online that afternoon and cornered J in the kitchen so I could read every word of it out loud to him, half shouting with excitement. He asked me how much coffee I'd had that afternoon, but actually I hadn't had a drop. I sent in my application for the program that night.

This Monday I closed on the refinance I've been working on since January, and on Tuesday I told my boss that I'll be scaling back my hours at my 9-5 job to three days a week and potentially expanding my freelance design business to replace it in the future. The work aspect of the equation is still an unknown, as I'm torn about whether or not I actually want to let go of my position entirely. I trust that the universe will reveal a path going forward, as it does each day, even if along the way I let myself feel panicked and unsure. On Wednesday I mailed off a check to hold my place in the internship program, and on Wednesday night I spent hours chanting my mantra for the second annual Maha Shivaratri celebration at the local yoga studio.

Last year that celebration was so new to me that I felt a little bit like an outsider. This year I chanted with a mix of deep gratitude and humility on the day set aside for the great god of change and destruction — destruction of the world, destruction of the physical body, destruction of the ego, destruction of self-ignorance, destruction of fear. On my particular quest, I can't imagine having a better guide.

I AM

Looking forward to seeing this soon, I hope.