Light

Much like the scent of pine and peppermint, Jesus is in the air.  Whether you choose to believe in Jesus as God or not we might all agree he was a real man who rocked the status quo.  I’m not inviting discussion of his followers and those who created church in his name or where individuals stand on the God/Man/Both decision.  There is plenty of that around elsewhere!  I simply maintain in any case that Jesus was a revolutionary person of deep love, conviction, and grace.  The dude totally took his world by storm in his teachings about inclusion and peace.  I love that he strolled around fishing wharfs, town wells and gathering places using words and stories to bring change.  He sought no particular positions of power.  I think Jesus was a teacher who knew a lot about light.   

     

The noun light is defined at dictionary.com (I list the first two entries).
1.  something that makes things visible or affords illumination.
2.  (physics)
     a. luminous energy, radiant energy, electromagnetic radiation to which the organs of sight react 
     b.  a similar form of radiant energy that does not affect the retina, as ultraviolet or infrared rays

Light has been a topic of life since forever (often contrasted against darkness - see last week’s blog).  But we humans seem to forget over and over, generation after generation, again and again that light is ours for the seeing, for the fostering, for the remembering, for the accepting.  That which affords illumination exists from all time and has never stopped existing.  We just have to open up our physical and metaphorical eyes to it. We have to know light is there even at night when the sun has set.  Your light cannot be taken away.  Not by poverty.  Not by cold winter.  Not by injury.  Not by laws.  Not by another person’s anger.  Not even by death be it peaceful or in torture and execution.

I think what does happen is that we stop seeing our light and the light in others.  The more I have the gift of practicing and teaching yoga, the more I see its effectiveness in moving us into our luminous radiant energy, the energy that shows us the way to what is unchanging and infinite.  From this place inside ourselves we are able to clearly see the light in all. 

In yogic philosophy, the things which cause us to see incorrectly or not at all are named the Five Afflictions.  Wrong sight is rooted in ignorance (avidya), pride (asmita), unfettered desire (raga), extreme aversion (dvesa), and fear of death (abhinivesa).  Which of these do we fall into throughout our lives, throughout a day?  Oh, to cure ourselves of ignorance and pride!  Imagine freedom from attachment to or senseless rejection of things!  Joy, to see ourselves as infinite creatures residing in finite bodies!  How is this done – I propose meditation on light.

Illumination

Come Oh, Come E Man

you well know five holds blind us

love makes visible

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness

One cannot ignore the pervading darkness this time of year.  Dusk arrives, a daily surprise, as the traditional work day ends.  Dinner feels formal in low light eaten under electric dimmer switch sponsored lights.  The envelope of night sky seals us completely in black by eight o’clock. 

 

Five entries define the noun darkness at dictionary.com.
1.  the state or quality of being dark:  the room was in total darkness
2.  absence or deficiency of light:  the darkness of night
3.  wickedness or evil:  Satan, the prince of darkness
4.  obscurity; concealment:  darkness of the metaphor destroyed its effectiveness.
5.  lack of knowledge or enlightenment:  heathen darkness

 

Both darkness and light offer their own gifts, but the longing toward light seems innate as does darkness’ connection to things evil or lacking enlightenment.  The absence of light renders sight difficult, often impossible, making opportunity for unseen thieves, unidentifiable predators, general vulnerability.     

Darkness is the topic of conversation for the season of Advent.  This dance between opposites is not new:  darkness and light have been in relationship since early people lived in knowledge and awe of the rhythms of Mother Earth.  Earth moves through winter darkness into light.  Ancient Celts prayed for the sun’s return with its life-giving light, warmth and assurance that Spring would come.  In contemporary Christian tradition songs of longing, waiting, patience, and hope still drift to the heavens. 

People discern that light comes to our world from a Source that offers itself freely.  In this awareness, people await the arrival of something important, necessary to our very existence, essential to dispelling darkness.  Whether we see the event to come as the arrival of a person, a season, or a powerful transformation that occurs inside each individual we have a sense of expectancy uniquely rooted in hope.  Hope much like the wait during pregnancy for what one cannot see growing in the darkness of the womb. 

Darkness during winter months and December’s longest night, the Winter Solstice, reminds us that not knowing has its own lesson.  Darkness says be patient and aware in the not-yet time.  Be attentive for light that comes.  The quest to light up darkness is tangible in our artificially illuminated lives.  The tougher quest may be to seek light in darkness in its representational evil or lack of knowledge.  In our not-having, wait a little longer times we have great opportunity to learn, to meditate, and to prepare for the Light our trust resides in.    

 

                         Darkness

                         dark deep in sightless soul un-light long, seek illumined hour

                         welcome warmth wrapping oneself with hides

                         skins borrowed for hunts and births

                         bring forth to learn comfort, songs beneath cold star shower

                         extended nighttime tells quiet awaiting Sun

                         still sky Solstice stretches December

                         day of Rome’s tenth month decreed as if they held power

                         divine yearning young eve knows so black

                         afore mortal man tried to scribe

                         sacred story named Source before language ere flower

                         gazed into the darkness and called forth

                         the Word was God. Light. You.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conscious

I hold no delusions of “roughing it” in the mountains this weekend even with absence of television and computer.  I hiked mildly rugged terrain wrapped snuggly in a coat and shod with warm leather boots.  I welcomed winter cold air that filled my lungs and chilled my nose pink knowing the loop trail would return to a cabin with electricity and hot water.  I am conscious of myself and my thoughts as I left urban surroundings for isolated higher elevations. 

The adjective conscious is defined at dictionary.com.
1.  aware of one’s own existence, sensations, thoughts, surroundings, etc.
2.  fully aware of or sensitive to something;  conscious of one’s faults
3.  having the mental faculties fully active:  conscious during an operation
4.  known to oneself:  conscious guilt
5.  aware of what one is doing:  a conscious liar

Mice are part of mountain trips.  We don’t ever actually SEE the creatures just their rice-sized droppings in a corner, beneath pillows, and under a sink cabinet collaged with bits of torn toilet tissue.  Some sweeping and bicker-banter about the inconvenience typically initiates my family to a mountain weekend. 

 

Not so this past weekend.  After the typical poo patrol we enjoyed a simple day capped off with cocoa.  While we slept, a rascally rodent climbed to my coat (an unsolved mystery since the coat was hanging on a wall hook far from the ground).  That little scamp found the fluffy lining of my coat’s hood, just as I do, compelling for comfort.  The mouse chewed a hole through the exterior and the lining then excavated pats of white fluff!  When I found the scene in the morning my words were full of fury.  I love that coat!  I’ve only had it one season!  Evil mouse! 

 

As I swept the mess I meditated on my surroundings and the situation.  I brought thoughts as questions.  Can I feel angry?  Yes.  Is a mouse criminal for being a mouse?  No.  Was the mouse conscious of destroying something that does not belong to him?  No.  Was I letting a mouse with no conscious thought ruin my morning?  Yes.  Could conscious watching of self identify the real problems:  assumption and attachment?  Yes.

 

Because we humans are conscious beings, we can watch ourselves.  My reaction sprang from attachment to a “perfect” coat.  My reaction was also rooted in assumption:  that ten noisy feet scared such critters away.  The mouse not only gnawed a hole in my coat but in my self-soothing false belief that mice only roamed the home when people were not in it. 

 

The truth:  I will uncomfortably accept cohabitating with mountain mice.  I will mend the coat and find it warming despite imperfection.  I embrace the tiny lesson in living as a conscious being.  Every self-watching moment serves us on a path to mindful, conscious living.  As we learn clear seeing of our own self, however small each glimpse might be, we become more aware of and sensitive to our actions. 

 

 

After Vexation

limbs stretch through a hole

sentient animal finds true

light shines on what is

 

 

 

 

Lucky

Counting blessings may lead to thoughts about lucky.  I feel lucky to have electricity, water flowing from indoor spigots, clean clothes.  I consider myself lucky to be married to a faithful husband whose love and commitment allow me to securely reciprocate my own love and commitment.  I feel lucky to have been born in the United State of America.  I am lucky to have good friends, bright children, the opportunity to practice yoga, a pile of food to look forward to Thanksgiving Day.  Some of these things are in my life by chance, some involved past and continued determination on my part.     

Lucky is defined at dictionary.com as an adjective meaning
1.  having or marked by good luck; fortunate
2.  happening fortunately
3.  bringing or foretelling good luck

We might admit there is randomness to every person’s life.  Events, people, resources, and options arrive or depart without our conscious choice. I’ve read versions of the following Chinese Folktale that address events as good or bad.  This one is from "The Power of Mindful Learning," by Ellen J. Langer.

A man who lived on the northern frontier of China was skilled in interpreting events.  One day, for no reason, his horse ran away to the nomads across the border.  Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?"  Some months later his horse returned, bringing a splendid nomad stallion.  Everyone congratulated him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a disaster?"  Their household was richer by a fine horse, which his son loved to ride. One day the son fell and broke his hip.  Everyone tried to console him, but his father said, "What makes you so sure this isn't a blessing?"  A year later the nomads came in force across the border, and every able-bodied man took his bow and went into battle.  The Chinese frontiersmen lost nine of every ten men.  Only because the son was lame did the father and son survive to take care of each other.  Truly, blessing turns to disaster, and disaster to blessing: the changes have no end, nor can the mystery be fathomed.

We each know the moment we are in and perhaps recall some we have passed through.  Often hindsight gives perspective only cumulative events can offer.  Knowing, like the Chinese father, changes have no end nor can the mystery be fathomed is a challenge when life seems not lucky.  Never can it be said that it is lucky to be ill or sad or lonely or in poverty or abused.  The grand mystery of it all seems truly incomprehensible.  But, when I reflect on my life, never has a truer statement been made than the Dalai Lama XIV’s words, “Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck.”   

Columbus didn’t get his path to India.  Generations later we celebrate American Thanksgiving.  In its tradition, I wish abundance to all this week and always. 

 

 

 

Meals

My fridge often fails to offer successful meals.  Never mind that it only extends to me things I have put into it. I embrace an external entity to blame for mediocre meals I’ve offered of late.

 

The noun meal is defined as any of the regular occasions when a reasonably large amount of food is eaten, such as breakfast, lunch, or dinner or the food eaten on such an occasion.

 

My daughter attended a talk to volunteer with a group providing meals for the homeless.  The organization offers a magnanimous 4,500 meals a week on a budget of $2,000.  Her group will provide 260 persons one dinner.  These were the guidelines to the youth:  offer a protein, starch, vegetable, dessert.  Make it healthy.  And give from your heart.  Do not provide merely food but also love and compassion.  The homeless kitchen’s mission makes my lamenting feel like the squeaks of an ungrateful mouse living in a cheese factory.  On the other hand, listening to kids brainstorm ideas illustrated that they had no idea what it really takes to put together meals.

 

I am deeply grateful to have plentiful food.  I thankfully procure fresh, green stuff and avoid sugar and empty, processed carbs.  Healthy food and nutrition have been my hobby for years but somehow, regrettably, my sizzle fizzled.  I’ve lost the emotional satisfaction once mingled with making meals, perusing recipes, plotting perfect pairings.  I miss the joy it used to bring.  I don’t remember how to offer my heart alongside a lightly salted chicken breast and its steamed friend, broccoli. 

 

Meals can indeed serve self and caloric sustenance.  People gather at table to offer and receive.  Through emotional eating, baby nutrition, snacks and sippy cups, my meals evolved in phases both fulfilling and frustrating.  I now find myself squarely seated at the helm of family meals for five.   Sandwiched between work that I adore and kids’ activities they enjoy, volunteer commitments and household management, a reasonably large amount of food for breakfast, lunch, or dinner often feels like a distraction instead of a mission.  My mind voice is screaming, “You cannot be burned out.  This is important stuff!”   

 

I need recharging, maybe from a tradition honored as people sit to sup:  find gratitude.  (Even for cheese toast and sliced fruit for dinner?)  My knowledge about the science of food in the body won’t disappear.  But maybe I can release the “perfect meal” and lower the temperature on the pressure placed on meals.  Sounds delicious.  But like many delicious meals, rejuvenation might take more time than I want.

 

Leftovers

ho hum lunch munch meal fare

past time, prepared titanic pot

same yet today not so yummy

seated similar chummy bench

served hot, chewed, swallowed

simultaneously divided due

two big bowls sit after through

tastes changed as body slept

cells crept up, stirred to death

from the surface sloughed off

washed away, plate from goo

became new (unlike the food)

staid without change in hunger

eaten, want keeps growing alive

 

 

 

 

Sabbatical

This morning, I wavered between AWOL and sabbatical to name my thoughts.  My recent absence from musing was not deliberate but time that got away from me on one hand and was tendered from me by the demands of life on the other.  Monday morning would arrive, fill up like a bucket dropped in a swimming pool, sink into afternoon and evening, then float into Tuesday without any writing.  Today, I return from sabbatical with full fall splendor and a calendar with a bit of space left on it.

 

Among several, Dictionary.com offers the following entries for sabbatical.
1.  (adjective) of or pertaining or appropriate to the Sabbath
5.  (noun) any extended period of leave from one’s customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc.

I took a one month period of leave from my customary writing to keep myself sane.  I do nurture myself with writing, but I knew if I frantically coveted bits of time by forcing the issue I would start acting mean, resentful, impatient.  That much I have learned about myself.  When I step too far away from life as a mother/homemaker I lose touch with how important those roles are for me. 

 

I remain, as we all do, an individual who must care for my own self, too.  But I know falling into unbalance (even toward positive pursuits) will topple the blocks of me.  One can become over attached to beneficial activities, too!  My life flows best with essential foundation stones in place.  Rest and suitable food are paramount followed by getting five people where we are supposed to be, prepared with what we need, in enough time to not feel frantic.  In the last four weeks that’s all I could manage.

 

We all have some version of a daily pie chart with 24 slices, each one hour.  We experience the tug-of-war it can take to keep that pie divided among life’s demands.   Let’s not trick ourselves into thinking we can squeeze 26 hours out of our 24 hour days.  Let’s also go easy on ourselves in terms of how much we should realistically expect to get done.  Rest is not a last thought, not time wasted.  Rest is essential.  In the biblical story of creation, God took time to rest – hence the origin of the word Sabbatical.  What more permission do we need?

 

 

Period of Leave

appropriate as the seventh day
look at that which is

done.

find it good

one in holy acts making should
alive in that which is

done.

know enough

actions always not essence stuff
see all that which is

done.
not over divide

in truth of Devine self-love reside

bow to that which is

done.

man made last

Maker did not say, do more fast
accept that which is

done.

day sufficient

work time tic to appropriate end

today that which is

done.

not tomorrow

let a next day not long to borrow

discern that which is

done.

offer rest

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kindness

Last week I waited in carpool line amidst fellow kid-fetchers, each of us in various motor vehicles watching bicycles or those on foot drift past.  The day decked us in gorgeous array – sunny, eighty degrees, gentle breeze.  My van windows were open.  I crept forward, letting my foot rise off the brake ever so subtly progressing toward the sidewalk where chatting children waited. 

Then came the honking.  HONK.  HONK.  HOOONNNNK.  I looked at a small parking lot where some folks choose to leave their cars and walk up to the school.  A mammoth white SUV was blasting its horn at a small car driven by a granny-looking lady who was clearly a bit confused about where she should park, exactly.  The Grandmother moved through what unfolded as a three attempt effort to back into a space as the female driver of the SUV whaled on that horn over and over.  I was so disappointed in the absence of kindness.  Who could really be in such a hurry as to not see the old lady was TRYING?  The whole event was only, maybe, three minutes and they both drove away scattering a cloud of ugly energy.  I couldn’t help but wonder what the children with the horn-honker learned about kindness.

Dictionary.com defines kindness.
1.  the state or quality of being kind
2.  a kind act
3.  kind behavior
4.  friendly feeling; liking

I feel that definition offers nothing without defining kind.
1.  of a good or benevolent nature or disposition, as a person
2.  having, showing, or proceeding from benevolence
3.  indulgent, considerate, or helpful; humane
4.  mild, gentle, clement

Perhaps we might each consider kindness.  We cannot let anger and hate overtake the collective spirit of our world.  Every little thing we do adds to the united life-force of humanity.   Haters don’t seem to be scared to flip the finger, shout profane words, launch car bombs.  Why should we be afraid to hold open doors, let others out in traffic, wait and breathe deeply as a confused person parks a car, be pleasant to a cashier, tip generously, offer “please” and “thank you” liberally, look people in the eye and smile.  I assert that piles of little acts weigh as much as one big one! 

We wrongly think ourselves powerless much of the time.  On the contrary, we have so much power that we wield without thought of ourselves or others.  Power to heal and to hurt with so much as a word or our hands, a smile or a honk, a moment of silence, a song.  People power can pulse the universe with joy or junk it up with hostility.  Kindness is necessary.  Kindness is a gift to ourselves and to others.  Kindness is powerful.        

Humanity

praise human hallowed power to pray

preach and prune

about beauty, lost wandering without

knowing the scale

tips to the flip side of goodness as we

flood the light side

with abundant acts, kindness apostles