Day Twenty Seven plus Two - bas

In this body are seers and sages, all the stars and planets as well. There are sacred pilgrimages, shrines, and presiding deities of the shrines. The sun and the moon also move in it. Ether, air, fire, water, and earth are also there. All the beings that exist are also to be found in the body. He who knows all this is a yogi.

Shiva Samhita

It seems everything will eventually find it's way to completion, that point just before the spiral turn of the "next" creation. For me there's a sense of stillness that comes with recognizing the perfection of enough. Enough done, enough said. In India there is a word for that - bas. People say this when they feel satisfied with a conversation and are ready to move on to something else.

I'd been hoping for that still moment to occur on Solstice (Day 27). And only overshot by a little.

On Solstice Day I headed outside before dawn, barefoot again, looking for Venus and Mars. It was clear, so I could see them. Steady. I know they're there even when can't see them, but I sure feel comforted to be able to.

My practice for Day 27 was to get ready for the gathering and Yule log. In addition to the also important mundane tasks of setting up the house and preparing food, drink, and music mixes, I took a bath and did an NVC meditation/reflection/reading.

On Solstice night we gathered up with friends, shared the evening together, and wrote down anything we wanted to let go of or bring in, or both - the harvest of our hearts -fastening them to the Yule log with toothpicks. At 10:08 pm, the log went in the fire, to the sound of drums and Om shanti.... Peace.

My intention - about what did I let the arrow fly? Heneni presence.

It was work to get there. Valuable work, though, like turning soil for a garden. And work since then, cleaning the tools, putting things away, and soothing my body.

And the blizzard of Christmas is still swirling, although for me, it's more like a little flurry. Got together for precious time with my precious daughters yesterday, for pedicures and cookie baking, and gift giving and receiving. Really making an effort to carve out that space just for us, in the face of the fullness of our lives, and relationships.

Awakened to my jackal demons this morning - the itty bitty s----y committee. They've been concerned about how I came out and sang in front of (and about) God and everyone at Solstice, and how some people might think I'm a witch...and then how, as we sat around the cookie decorating table last night, I gave in to an intense conversation about poetry and peace with my daughter's boyfriend and didn't decorate any cookies, and also didn't get the fudge made, and is it enough? and how do everyone's needs get met? and should I apologize and ...? Spinning like that.

Lying in bed with these demons only encourages them, so I decided to get up, even though it was only 6:00 a.m. on Sunday I wanted to stop spinning. Remembering something my daughter had shared yesterday about changing things up - like listening to the music of a mood you're not in may shift you - I walked outside to see Venus and Mars, but wore shoes and took Theo along. There were Mars and Venus, their positions slightly, yet notably, shifted as they continue to rotate through their rhythms. We walked further out (shoes helped...), and through bare trees, I could see the moon setting - large, low, and full, and way to the north - a Solstice moon.

One of our neighbors had come out to have a cigarette in the predawn dark. He was standing with his back to this moon, only a few steps and a simple turn from seeing it. As I walked by, I couldn't resist telling him, and he said he had seen it's reflection in the window across from him. Then he stepped over and took a look. As I walked away I noticed how I'm wearing my fuzzy sleeping sweatshirt with the hood up, and a long sweater over that, but not long enough to cover my red flannel dragon jammies, and pointing out the moon like it's some kind of precious treasure (which it is) and like I'm some kind of suburban witch (which I am). But he did look at it.

The moon was full when I began this self prescribed "27 day" journey. And it will be full perfect- purna -full again today at 5:16 pm PST at 1 Cancer/Capricorn on Sun 12/23. What do the Sabian symbols suggest? An Indian chief demanding recognition and a furled and an unfurled flag displayed from a vessel. What this moon says to me is that, yes, there is a steady knowing of how things are, and who I am, yet the expressions of that are choices I make all the time, and as varied as the colors of my imagination.

On Solstice, a friend asked me now what? about my practice. My reply was more of the same. Which is always different. And you know, after looking at the silver of that Solstice moon, I could easily and clearly see the red of twinkling Mars.

And now, I can feel the still point.

Bas.

Day Twenty Six - emergency

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning s new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Rumi

Yesterday's practice was showing up for conversation with my friend and empathy buddy, Jo. We're coming up on a year of doing this being together for an hour (or two) to see what's alive in each other. For me, one of the beautiful things about this practice is that it reveals the waves and rhythms of our lives, I think because our time together is simply regular, and not tied to events in our lives (though we do make "emergency empathy" calls sometimes, too).

And speaking of emergencies, I am so grateful to have been stepping deliberately and firmly through this 27 day practice, even as the holiday practice(s) of others swirl around me. Focusing on my practice is cultivating a sense of clarity, and blessed relief from worrying about, or reacting to Christmas. I see it there, but it doesn't have a"hold" on me as it has before. Did I mention Blessed Relief?

After an argument with Joe Monday night about holiday planning, I felt sad because I had treated my beloved in a way I did not like. (I don't think he did either....) I dove deeper and discovered that I was wanting to get all this stuff planned and done, so I could be present and rested, to really experience this 27 day practice, and our gathering with friends on Solstice. So that's why I was yelling at my husband - so I could connect!

I decided that my "to do" list was not as important as my "to be" list.

That's when I dove into poetry and music and began creating in this sort of urgent, yet peaceful way. A creative explosion spawned multiple blog drafts (which are now finally getting posted). I've been sharing Pablo Neruda poetry with students at school (aligned [enough] with our academic standards, of course ;). And included it in Solstice yoga practice with friends, as well as for my theme for Solstice yoga class. And it all relates. It's a interwoven.

This is an emergence/emergency I welcome with open arms.

And I'm loving the space for community that is growing. Tina and I planned and co created our Solstice Eve practice, and as we practiced with Tiffany, it morphed again. And again later in the afternoon as I led the class I "teach." And on Solstice, it looks to be standing room only for our celebration. (UMMM, tiny worry thought leaking in - will I/we be ready?)

There's that pulsation (spanda) of Shakti again! Sometimes things seem all in pieces, and sometimes seem inextricably connected. Because they are. Both. And it's dynamic.

Heneni. I am here. In life I can show up. It's a choice. I think about how I heard once that legislators sometimes put a heavy binder on the "yes" (or "no") button so their presence/votes will be counted, but they don't actually have to be there. (Where do they go? What is more important?) I don't want my presence to be like that. Some cardboard cut out with the face of whatever I've decided ahead of time.

An emergency is a process. Something is happening. Let's see what it is....

Day Twenty Five - on the rim

When you are fiercely angry or feeling joy beyond description, when you are at an impasse, not knowing what to do, when you are in terror or running for your life, know that such intense states of mind are fully permeated with the spanda, the creative vibration of divine shakti. Find her there.

Spanda Karikas

There were fewer clouds this morning, and in the pre dawn-darkness, I could see Mars, but not Venus. That's how it is sometimes on the rim, fishing for fallen light.

Is light "happiness" and dark "sadness"? I can no longer categorize experience that way. (I've looked at life from both sides now...ahh Joni....) I recently heard David Crosby say that we're born as boulders, get knocked around by life, and eventually become river stones. That makes this whole being human thing more palatable for me. Who wouldn't weant to be a river stone?

Some of us do seem to get there quicker, tho' I don't think that matters. There's time enough for smoothing.

Or not. Our young friend Tara died on Winter Solstice so all of a sudden five long years ago, and I think we who knew her would have liked more time - for her and for us. The last time I saw her, Mat and I were walking through town, and we saw her go into Starbuck's. We decided to cross the street, go in, and give her a hug. So glad we did that.

Now this year, I'm also remembering our friend Omaha, who died twice. I don't mean this to sound cavalier or disrespectful, as Omaha is the one person I've known (so far at least) who could, and would, live and die this way.

The first time he died was in May of 2005. We said goodbye as he lay in a coma, the doctors having assured that he would not make it. In the days that followed he and I had dream conversations about his death. He told me he had died. I told him that I respected his choice about it, but that I would miss him and prefer he stay awhile. And he did. (Later, in "regular" consciousness he and I talked about those dream conversations - and he remembered them, too.) And with those gifted days, I think he was and did what he needed. He died in his sleep at the end of December 2006. We didn't have any dream conversations about that one. It just happened. Since his second death he has come and hung out with me in dreams, and offered such a sense of Love and Light, and he has helped open my Heart. I wish I had seen him that one more time here in this dimension, yet I have sense that it's OK with him.

And for me, the gift in all of this is to remember that the creative vibration of Divine Shakti is Everything, even the song of life and death.

And to cross the street whenever necessary to hug a friend.

Day Twenty Four - Si cada día cae...

“All paths lead to the same goal: to convey to others what we are. And we must pass through solitude and difficulty, isolation and silence in order to reach forth to the enchanted place where we can dance our clumsy dance and sing our sorrowful song - but in this dance or in this song there are fulfilled the most ancient rites of our conscience in the awareness of being human and of believing in a common destiny.”

Pablo Neruda (from Nobel Prize speech)


So there's this thing about Solstice time. I set out with such eager intentions to honor this time. And then each step feels increasingly heavier - yet filled with purpose. Dynamic stillness and holding steady - like holding parsvakonasana after I wanted to come out today/night in yoga class - and then rising up into bird of paradise.

Where does that container come from? My intention in practice today/night was hineni . I am here. After yesterday's "expansion" into shards of too many to do's, thankfully I came back to myself and remembered that the most important thing is presence. To stay contained enough to remember the light. Shakinah - the Divine light. It is in me, and everything, everyone. Contained. How else could it be, for us to know it?

Music and poetry help me remember.

This is one of my favorite poems, and that I connect with this time of year. By Pablo Neruda. The English translation is mine.

Si cada día, cae
Si cada día, cae
dentro de cada noche
hay un pozo
donde la claridad está encerrada.

Hay que sentarse a la orilla
del pozo de la sombra
y pescar luz caída
con paciencia.

[If each day falls,
inside of each night
there is a well
where clarity is enclosed.

You have to sit yourself at the rim
of the well of shadow
and fish for fallen light
with patience.]

Still settling in here at the rim on Day Twenty Four....

Day Twenty Three - Hineni

It rained last night and the world seemed very different this morning. The light that much more oblique and everything ever grayer. There is beauty in that, I know, but it's not easy to see sometimes. Add to this my traditional humbug about now (during the December "teens") - the sense that something is just not right with all the holiday hubbub (sp?), and yet I cannot escape participation. By this afternoon, I'd spiraled into a thousand pieces, all going in different directions, and nothing getting done. Wanting collaboration and support, with little in sight. (Is is just that I can't see it?...)

Late afternoon necessity got me outside walking with Theo (our dog). I thought to try to listen to an NVC call on my iPod, but couldn't find the file. In frustration, I just grabbed it anyway. And headed out listening to Holy Ma, a moody chant by Shantala. I dove deeper into my state. Grrr, don't want to feel this way. Then Sri Ram Jai Ram came on and the beauty of that, just these simple names of the Divine, began to put the pieces together, at least for awhile. The dance of the One and the Many, Concealment and Revelation stirring in my heart. My energy came up a bit, and I by the time we were passing by St. Isadore's Catholic Church, I was singing along - probably off key as I had earphones in. But who cares? Very few people were around anyway on this not quite a holiday, but everything's different (is everyone at the Mall?) afternoon.

Was listening to Hineni by the time I got home. This is a beautiful and new one (to me). Didn't sound like Sanskrit....? Decided to look it up.

Turns out if I were Jewish I'd probably already know that Hineni is Hebrew and means "I am here." And so much more. I understand it to mean presence, readiness, willingness. I love this description:

"Hineni -Presence
Your full attention, in present time, to whom you are with, and to what you are doing, thus enabling you to answer the call of the moment.  Distracting thoughts of the past and future are momentarily lost in the strength and clarity of the light before you." (see http://www.ashrei.com/hineni.htm)

This is my practice! This is the way I understand empathy in NVC. Not that I'm always there, but knowing I can.

I had no idea there is such a word, and discovering it today was like a finding a sparkling jeweI on a bleak afternoon.

I am here. What a gift.

Days Twenty One and Twenty Two

Saturday practice was a snap - fun, fun, fun. Went to Lauren's early Saturday morning asana class. Going there is like going home. We did all kinds of backbends and made some of it up on the spot. I was having so much fun I forgot to get all serious about this 27 day practice, and remembered to set a (retroactive?) intention toward the end. Still counts as yoga.

This morning started a little rough as I dreamed about stuff everywhere getting in my way while I tried to make tea (=comfort), and awakening feeling like I was choking, got up to get some water and use the bathroom, to discover that my moon time had begun (already?) and then the toilet backed up and overflowed. ~And a good morning to you too!~ Got things down to a dull roar and got that tea made. Then I cried about how everything seems to be in little pieces everywhere - people, projects, life. Longing for comfort and support. That's when my friend called to see about going for a hike, and the day pretty much ambled on from there.

I'm so grateful for allies.

We walked in the hills for two hours, then Joe and I cleaned up the leaves and stuff on/in our patio gardens. I felt comforted by that. It's supposed to start raining soon for about four days.

For my practice today (as if ambling through the tress and hob-nobbing with the leaves doesn't count), I went to NVC practice group, where we explored empathy - the respectful understanding of what others are experiencing. For practice we each conjured up something that we reacted to. In my case it was a comedian I heard on TV last night who said that the best gift for him would be sex and silence (i.e. leave me alone afterward). I didn't like that. We spent the next 45 minutes practicing empathy as a group for individual who offered their examples. We didn't get to my example that way. And the most powerful thing was that, at the end, we went back in to our own examples individually, to see how it was, and to offer empathy to ourselves, and/or the other person. I loved doing this because I found that I had shifted toward my own example, even though I had been being present with others' examples for 45 minutes. And I was able to come up with an empathy guess for the comedian ("Are you feeling desperate and longing for touch, sexual expression, and space?") and myself ("I'm feeling vulnerable and needing respect"). Getting the empathy guess right isn't important, but that energetic quality of willingness to connect is. What a difference. And all without saying a word about it specifically. That's powerful.

I would still not want to be his girlfriend, though.

Phew. As I look forward to days Twenty Three through Twenty Seven (Solstice!) I feel heartented. There's four more school days this week, and much preparation still to do for our gathering on Solstice, and the wishes, dreams, visions, and longings for the Yule Log from those who will not be present in body are starting to come in. Thank goodness I've planned ahead and done early beer research. Spruce tips it is!

Days Nineteen and Twenty - winter medicine

Mmmmmm feeliig sleepy tonight - Friday! One week until Solstice.

I just got done watching a documetary about Joni Mitchell, one of my all time favorite artists. She expresses so much through her music, and hearing her story about the struggle with balancing creative expression, love, and freedom, I can relate. And I'm feeling more of my own passionate shadow, evoked by her music, and dedication to authenticity.

Tonight I'm sampling a Winter Ale, made with spruce tips. More winter medicine. This tree, that we here in the US know as a Christmas tree, has a long full relationship with humankind. The etymology of the word spruce goes back a long way - and possibly into many different cultures - intimating at ancient connections between us. Seems to involves the idea of "fat" or "sticky stuff" or "pitch" that comes from one of the tree's offerings - and also and ancient name for Prussia. Check out the details are http://www.billcasselman.com/canadian_garden_words/cgw_four.htm

Spruce (Pinea sp.) is of course, another source of winter medicine. According to one website, "spruce pitch or sap placed on wounds for healing, to stop bleeding, and to prevent infection; heated pitch brought relief to burns, sore muscles, and toothaches; tea from the bark was used for relief of symptoms with cold, flu, and sore throat; spruce needle tea was used for stomach ailments and kidney problems; juice squeezed from the new spruce tips at the tree top or end of the branches was used to relieve sore eyes." Spruce tips are high in Vitamin C; in the 1700's sailors drank spruce tip and bark tea to prevent scurvy.

And now, in addition to our holiday "Christmas" tree, we can enjoy Alaskan Winter Ale with spruce tips, available at your local BevMo. The old is ever new. Just a little "spruced up" - pardon the pun.

And speaking of winter medicine, let's again consider Amanita muscaria. Yesterday, I was reminded of how the shaman dresses as the sacrament. That's why Santa looks like this mushroom. What is an Amanita ritual about? I think it's about visioning, and how much is enough. A little Amanita helps depression, yet too much will kill you. A little bit would lift us from a belief that life has no meaning (an upper (6th/7th?) chakra issue) while too much would destroy the body. How interesting that this comes at the time of year when the Sun moves form Sagittarius ("ruled" by Jupiter - the largest a planet can get without collapsing into a star) and Capricorn ("ruled" by Saturn - the most distant visible planet) at Solstice . The edges of light and darkness. Expansion and limits. OMG fudge! How much is too much? Let's find out! Did I get the right gift for [fill in the blank]? Is it enough?

Is that the holiday season or what?

There is a Sanskrit phrase for something like "how much so much?" that I cannot remember nor find at the moment. Yet I bring it up because, like so many other helpful ideas, we can find it in yoga. Discernment. How much IS enough? Shopping, shopping, shopping, doing, doing, doing, Could it be that in this season of giving, that too much too much giving gets on the way? Might it be more compassionate to take care of yourself? Give, yes, and keep some room to receive - give the gift of your presence!

I think an important key here is context. When I understand the context of this ritual in which I'm participating - I can choose what is meaningful to me and align with it. Taken out of context - must...buy...gifts...- the meaning is lost. Just like when a whole plant medicine is turned into a toxic mimic by extracting it's most prevelent component and placed into isolation (in a pill, or some such) - what pharmaceutical companies do - and called medicine. It's out of context. That's like removing my lips and offering them - alone- to you as a smile. Not the same, is it?

Yet there is a choice to stay whole. And revel in it.

Humble Thanks and Bright Blessings to our plant allies. May we know who they are as we trim the tree, and enjoy so many of their fruits.

Oh, and my practice?

Yesterday, I dressed in red, white and brown to teach yoga class - with a theme of being the change we want to see in the world (see Ghandi 101...). We can all be the sacrament, be our vision.

Tonight I lifted a spruce tip beer, in honor of winter medicine.

That's my yoga.