From an exhibition in Santa Fe and from a gallery in Hong Kong. I KNEW these were deep archetypes! (Thanks, Mark!)
On the Road Again
Hard to believe it's been so long since I've posted. Most of this summer has been away from home. A trip to the Cape with Tara's family and up to Maine to see my family. I'm back in DC for two nights and take off again tomorrow morning for nine days at Kripalu Center, leading a nine-day training in teaching meditation. So it's on the road again. I'll post some photos and thoughts from my travels soon.
Day to Day Changes
Much of this summer I'm on the road. In a few days I'm off to New England to the Cape and to Maine to see my family, then I shoot back for just a few days to drop off the dogs before I head back up to Western Massachusetts to lead a nine-day meditation training for yoga teachers. I've loved being home and not going anywhere. Each morning Tara and I roll out of bed and head to the river with the dogs. Every morning, rain or shine, we notice the incremental changes. Having lived in the New England mountains for a few decades, I'm sensitive to the first signs of fall, and I say almost each day (so far), "Hey, it's still summer!"
Below are a few photographs I've taken in recent days. For you camera geeks, these photos were taken with a Canon T1i with a 70-200 2.8 IS L Series lens.
Home from Retreat
There's nothing like stepping away from email, vmail, telephone, tv, movies, newspapers, magazines, radio and web. Add to that days upon days of transformational practices and some very interesting material can arise. These two retreats were simply exquisite. We laughed, we cried, we despaired and inspired each other.
I managed to get out of the building twice to hike and shoot some photos. One of my favorite spots on the Kripalu property is a creek deep in the woods. I used to hike it a lot and now it has no formal path leading to it. It's almost impossible not to feel uplifted there.
In late afternoon light I walked up the center of the creek in my sandals shooting what caught my attention and trying to slow the camera down enough to catch the movement of the water. Later in the week I got back in mid-day for some rare direct sunlight.
If you can do full screen, that would be best. The soundtrack is by Fredrick Karlsson, an Icelandic artist. I highly recommend his work.
A meditation on water, nature and light. A bit over three minutes.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFWcGytuKko]
Don't Go!
Despite my dog's attempt to not let me leave without him, I'm heading up to Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health to lead two programs. The first is a three day program with my friends Shobhan and Danna Faulds called the Energy Intensive: Yoga, Meditation and Breathwork. The second program is called The Still Small Voice Within: Meditation, Focusing and Intuition Training. This four-day intensive is all about cultivating awareness through vipassana, developing a more refined sense of the 'here and now' in the body through Focusing and taking time to reflect on the questions we carry inside and how we can open to greater wisdom and compassion.
To .. uh, Bee
Be Who You Want to Be
Happiness is possible when you are capable of doing the things and being the things you want to do and to be.
When we walk for the sake of walking,
when we sit for the sake of sitting,
when we drink for the sake of drinking tea,
we don’t do it for something or someone else.
Awakening means to see that truth—
that you want to know how to enjoy,
how to live deeply,
in a very simple way.
You don’t want to waste your time anymore.
Cherish the time that you are given.
–Thich Nhat Hanh, from Answers from the Heart (Parallax Press)
Down by the River
Shadow and Light
Today is Under Construction
Thank you, Kyra.
Fear of Transformation
This week I've been talking about Transitions and Transformations. Who isn't going through some kind of change these days?
Buddhism points to the Three Characteristics of Reality. Impermanence, Suffering, and "No Self." The more we examine the moment-to-moment phenomenon, the more we can realize the possibility for freedom in the midst of change.
This reading below is long, but one of my favorites. It speaks to how we cling to identity and fear the unknown. The more comfortable we become with the mystery, the more we find ourselves free to enjoy the journey.
FEAR OF TRANSFORMATION
Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I’m either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I’m hurling across space in between trapeze bars.
Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I’m in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the right answers. But once in a while, as I’m merrily (or not so merrily) swinging along, I look ahead of me into the distance, and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It’s empty, and I know, in that place in me that knows, that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. In my heart-of-hearts I know that in order for me to grow, I must release my grip on the present, well-known bar to move to the new one.
Each time it happens to me, I hope (no, I pray) that I won’t have to grab the new one. But in my knowing place I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar, and for some moment in time I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar. Each time I am filled with terror. It doesn’t matter that all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. Each time I am afraid I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between the bars. But I do it anyway. Perhaps that is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow, to keep hanging onto that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. And so for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the void of “the past is gone, the future is not yet here.” It’s called transition. I have come to believe that it is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time that my old buttons get punched.
I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing” a no-place between places. Sure the old trapeze bar was real, and the new one coming towards me, I hope that is real too. But the void between? That’s just a scary, confusing, disorienting “nowhere” that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible. What a waste! I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing, and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void, where the real change, the real growth occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out-of-control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.
And so, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang-out” in the transition between the trapeze bars. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening, in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we may just learn to fly.
From the book, Warriors of the Heart by Danaan Parry
A Question of Style
Two approaches to hydration represented by two standard poodles:
It's a Jungle Out There
The heat is bringing out the bugs ... and the snakes! This first creature was right along the path next to the river.
Sunday was the first day of kayaking. The flow is pretty strong right now so it's a great workout to head up river until nicely tired, then float back and play around the rocks and eddies. I came upon this creature who didn't seem to mind me cycling back a few times to try to get a better shot. Since I don't have a waterproof camera and the current was pretty strong, I didn't get that sharp a shot, but I did get close enough to pay my respects. It's hard to get perspective, but this creature was huge!
A few local images
Gosling Update
Goslings!
I took this shot before the retreat, and haven't seen much of them until recently, when I saw they were down to one gosling.
Back from the Spring Retreat
I am just back from the IMCW Spring Retreat.
It rained for seven days. Every day but the final morning. No doubt the grey skies and downpours helped draw our practice inward and into the quiet.
A lot happens in a week of silent practice.
The first few days are often an internal bog of drowsiness and recognizing how depleted and exhausted we are.
The day starts with a wake up bell at 5:45 for optional yoga and ends at 9:30 after a half hour of sitting and chanting. In between, the day is highly structured. It's spacious, but we flow from event to event: yoga, sit, eat, rest, sit, walk, sit, walk, eat, rest, sit, walk, sit, yoga, sit, walk, eat, rest, sit, walk, listen to a dharma talk, sit and chant, then more rest.
The regularity of each day begins to soothe the nervous system and calm the mind.
"Doing nothing" can be surprisingly tiring. We fall into bed exhausted. As the days pass, though, inevitably we start to feel both a sense of deeper and wider relaxation as well as a greater capacity for concentration.
We notice things we had not noticed before. Sensations inside. The connection between thought and feeling. Moments of feeling tight inside completely tied up in a story give way to wafts of spaciousness - then back again into contraction.
The heart feels buoyed up by the steady presence of fellow practitioners around us. The daily guided compassion meditations touch tender spots. A sob heard in the room reverberates in our hearts.
The unseen, unfelt, undigested content of our lives finds its way to the surface. Some of what arises is incredibly sticky and remains in our awareness for days, cycling back again and again. Some of it arises and effortlessly glides away.
We begin to sense a quiet behind the noise inside. A little more space.
In the final circle when we speak again, I can see the radiance that has been revealed through practice. Eyes are bright and soft. Voices resonate with gratitude and wonder.
For me, as a leader, these days are incredibly full. I lead the movement classes twice a day, do private interviews and prepare an evening talk. I too fall into bed exhausted for much of the week.
If you ever have the opportunity or inclination to take some time on retreat, consider it as one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself.
Not only do you step away from the habits of your current life, but when you step into an environment dedicated to fully supporting you as you explore what it means to be alive and awake in the body, heart and mind, you not only begin to sense what is no longer needed in your life, you return to your worldly life more aware of what is possible.
Flox!!
OK, enough of the irrational exuberance. These are gorgeous, though, and they've shown up as the Blue Bells have exited.
Baby Ducks!!
Chlorophyll!!!
Scenes from a morning hike:
Deepening the Wonder
This week's topic was on The Heavenly Messengers: Sickness, Old Age and Death. When we are touched by them, our lives take new shape.
Below is poem from Hafiz. Below that, the image of a decaying yearling deer I came across on one of my river walks recently.
I find the the image of form dissolving back to the elements both horrific and wonderous.
Deepening The Wonder
Death is a favor to us,
But our scales have lost their balance.
The impermanence of the body
Should give us great clarity, Deepening the wonder in our senses and eyes
Of this mysterious existence we share
And are surely just traveling through.
If I were in the Tavern tonight, Hafiz would call for drinks
And as the Master poured, I would be reminded
That all I know of life and myself is that
We are just a midair flight of golden wine Between His Pitcher and His Cup.
If I were in the Tavern tonight,
I would buy freely for everyone in this world
Because our marriage with the Cruel Beauty
Of time and space cannot endure very long.
Death is a favor to us,
But our minds have lost their balance.
The miraculous existence and impermanence of
Form
Always makes the illumined ones
Laugh and sing.
Form and Emptiness