Inspirations: Practicing

As an adult, every Practice I have chosen, or that has chosen me, has been working to bring balance to the chaotic, adventurous, off-kilter drama of an extreme childhood. Somehow I had never noticed the subconscious efforts to re-align until this moment. Some of my choices to become more adult were not random, others– very haphazard, as in ‘why do this?’ Or better, ‘how can I possibly do this?’ Seen from this long corridor of time, there is realization of the great inner need for a sustaining, quiet, balanced platform from which to dive into life, especially the creative life. Perhaps a person, grown in an over-quiet, un-emotional home needs to have chaos and drama woven into his adult life? I used to think, if I thought about it at all, that creativity was spawned from drama, chaos, and wild adventures. Not so, or at least not for me. Drama certainly supplies a well from which to drink, but if that’s all there is you end up drunk. Drama is an expensive habit. I see that the Saturnian requirements of a Practice, any good Practice, have come to serve me and save me, and send me toward abundance, not boredom as previously assumed. ‘What! do the same thing over and over until it’s right?’ The basics of discipline I dance with, around, from, and to every day. For like any good addict, I struggle with a wild-self, an un-tamed melody that does not fit into the greater composition. I am still drawn to the cymbal/siren sound of chaos and drama, but in much smaller doses. The price is too high. Any ‘long view’ gives opportunity to see where we stand in the arc of life. What we did not get in childhood, we unconsciously, or consciously seek through partners, jobs,… Read more »

Today’s perfect beauty offers itself as a poem. It touches me in ways I cannot describe, just as the qualities of good poetry defy description or understanding. Great poems touch and remain within as a confluence of feelings; a ‘Splendor In The Grass’ moment of pure intoxication that alters consciousness. Whether the poem holds extraordinary words, or simple ones, the symbolism illuminates something personally sublime that ignites the inner life. Meaning is secondary. This is true of any art. It can actually be true of most things, most Practices. Is it not why we practice? A Yoga Practice can be a bridge to a mystic place I cannot know, or own, though I work it piece by piece, hour by hour. It’s like my garden in this exquisite moment. My hands, practicing beauty, have torn out, torn up, re-worked, and weeded every centimeter, until the mundane of dirt and plant suddenly stand in their own glorious poetic wisdom. What transpires to create this moment as sacred? To travel from the mundane to a time and place where mind and heart transfuse and pinion me against the earth, is no minor event. Moments such as this are a goad for the tedious work. The practice, the mindless repetitions need to remember there is a God. If it’s only a momentary, inexpressible, breath…So be it. We may long to understand and share these feelings, intellectually pull things apart, but they have morphed into something beyond themselves, and are therefore mostly wordless. They are too full of life. Poses, flowers, words, are tools of the craftsman. What creates the transformation? How do we move through the literalness of our craft, the deliberate training, and dissection, the intellectual recycling and repetition of the dry, salty, and dare I say, the pedantic? How do we… Read more »

For those who garden in the North East, spring days are holy, they are also hell…. So much to do all at once, alongside such splendid joy and incomparable relief at winter’s release. My eyes rove over winter-white grass, broken branches, and withered rose cane. Suddenly, the luminescent green throat of the Grackle, the pear forcing inarticulate bud, and daylily heads pushing old mulch aside, give my world new meaning. For those who observe political/social people and events in their magnificent idiocy, it is the same. So much horror and repulsion side by side with extraordinary present/future possibility. Indeed ‘Holy Hell’ is what most of us are working to balance through these illuminating, interesting days. We have come full circle to the old country doctor’s maxim, “What don’t kill you makes you stronger.” I have to assume that those of us who are surviving are growing quite strong. Having interior muscle to find, and re-find our inner equilibrium when the extremes of ‘holy hell’ side-swipe us at every curve is a gift that comes from Practice, many practices, some personal, some universal. Practices can open us to see ourselves and our world-view with different eyes; God’s eyes/Goddess vision. This, as you know, takes constant conscious effort. Without formidable prodding we would not do it. Aaahhh turmoil, grief, confusion, frustration, envy, the great healers. A dear friend told me yesterday that her new Practice was blessing everyone, especially those she struggled against. It consisted of a lot of Practice as she was working both personally and politically. She has found that it is all about her being able to balance her inner core, instead of changing those she disagrees with. Before, she would have been maniacal in her frustrations that others understand her, even that they listen. Now, it is not… Read more »

Like maple syrup, the Ojas, or life force, begins running more fiercely with still cold nights but warmer days. Like sap, we are invigorated to be more verb-like, less noun-ish, and with fortune our sap will heat and become sweet. Perhaps it is not so much fortune, but attention and diligence. It takes 40 gallons of sap to boil down for one gallon of pure maple syrup. Appreciate it a bit more? Might we appreciate our efforts put toward creating a higher life force? In snowbound winters we tend to be nouns, we be round beings with books, huddled by a fire. In spring, as warmth loosens cold joints, we dig, we do, we become verb-like. It’s a lovely sensation to feel sap beginning to flow, renewing elasticity, increasing our ability to become more, see wider, respond differently. Becoming ‘verby’ moves us into more active participation with the Universe. God knows we need it if we are to turn our 40 gallons of sap into a single gallon of fabulous taste. Requirements of a ‘good verb’ are: To attend our health, preventing illness as much as possible; to maintain emotional equilibrium no matter the crazies; to choose the appropriate energy to respond to whatever life offers. As our bodies warm and the life force flows, breathe in quiet moments, nurturing the inner life. April is a grand month, and on the first, we are fools if we don’t take our Practice to the next level in some small way. Let us consciously connect our physical ability to stand in perfect balance, and like the Fool of the first card in the Tarot, be willing to stride off cliffs. In other words, fully embrace the risks and excitement in these days. This spring may the sap run strong. It’s not just… Read more »

Is there anything more inviting than the first blank page of a new journal on a New Year’s morning? Such possibility spreads out before us! No messy squiggles, no regrets crossed out to mar a lovely landscape. The page, pure and hopeful lies empty, ready and wanting to soak up thought and prod creativity. I liken it to the empty mat waiting, longing for us to step onto it and begin, not knowing where it will take us. A Practice is a Practice is a Practice, be ye writer, Yogini, financier, painter, chef, gardener. We all show up to our ‘blank canvasses,’ awaiting eye, hand, tongue, and heart. When we are lucky, what calls us is an irresistible longing, an anticipation of revelation and manifestation that is hard to come by in the quotidian. Yet it requires that quotidian necessity of ‘showing up every day no matter what.’ Part of what makes a Practice inviting and …terrifying is we must be willing not only to begin fresh each time, but to plumb inner, secret spaces in new ways in order to make the invisible– visible. Yes, even a Yoga Practice. If we do it by rote, by the book, especially someone else’s book, we not only lose our edge, we eventually lose our Practice. A Practice, like the first blank page of a journal, the first day of a new cycle, an empty plot of ground, a just stretched canvas, all require not the talents of a Master, rather the magic made in the workshop of daily ‘worship’. When that magical worship combines with the courage to reveal what lies within then we have life-elixir, the true ability to change dross into gold. Asana: What is the pose that draws you onto your mat? Is there one, or two you… Read more »

When we are not looking, sometimes remarkable moments enter by the side door. When we surrender to process rather than outcome, we sometimes get lucky when the outcome revels and reveals the magic of its process. When we commit to risking, and intimacy, and sharing, what gets created far surpasses the sum of its parts. Last Saturday’s first photo shoot was memorable in creating those energies, giving birth to the Daily Breath Journal that many of you through the last four years have been part of. It is because of you, my friends, my students, that Daily Breath was originally, and now because of your generosity, it is taking the next step to go out into the world. It is exciting to view hoped for product and see what was present in the moment of its creating, become present again through photographs. You see the chaos, the patience that allowed magical moments to bubble up, the intimacy, vulnerability and joy. In short, the best of Sangha/community. I was reminded again that creative chaos is like any other Practice, in that a large part of it is trusting it to develop beyond…well, chaos. You do all the prep you can. You steep and dream in hoped for results, you cultivate and care for those who are part of the journey, and then you throw the entire moment to the Gods and dive willy-nilly into the chasm, the mud, the sea…it matters not the medium. It’s all in the willingness to dive, offering up what lies between you and those Gods. Terrifying. Alive to that kind of fear keeps us moving. If we don’t Practice and terrify ourselves at least once a year, those muscles for creative courage atrophy, and the sharp edges where chaos and magic live, fade. Asana: First, melt… Read more »