Inspiration

Simply crossing out ‘winter’ to write SPRING YOGA SCHEDULE is joyous. I will spill less blood on this page knowing we are at the crossroads. I can feel spring asking that we open to a more Zen state, the ‘Big Mind’ instead of the personal, small mind. The Zen of spring displays a more capacious heart, funding hope, giving courage to make needed change. How do I work my way into Universal, or ‘Big Mind’ so that I can be that exquisite Zen Master/Mistress, alive to spring requirements? We would all prefer to be connected to Universal mind; big hearted, generously open, fully present, without judgment or guilt, but the question is….how do we get there? As usual, I have no idea. The only thing I have is the willingness to sit here, waiting until I walk into answers. I am counting on that willingness for it is the only thing I own, all else is borrowed, appearing and disappearing as it wishes, not necessarily when I want it. When connected to Universal mind we are in a somewhat euphoric state of profound power, peace, and balance. When we make decisions from that place, inevitably they are the right ones. I’m grateful I am able to visit, ie become Zen, in the odd moment, but as usual I want more. Why can’t I remain within the Big Mind? Why is that connection so fragile? Would it be this difficult if I were a monk, or a nun? After learning that Mother Teresa fought with God most of her adult life, I don’t have a lot of expectation that any particular state of nun-hood, or monk-dom is going to serve better than what I gots. What I gots is what you gots–our Practice; a mat asking we stand on it; Asanas……

Between the 19th and 21st of March the Astrological new year begins with the Vernal or Spring Equinox, that is when the Sun arrives at zero degrees of Aires. It is an energy that primes us to leap into new life, take charge, and express with greater verve and demand. Like buds pulsing upward through half frozen earth, the effort is toward re-claiming our vibrant, idiosyncratic bloom. When our songs flow with the rhythms of nature, moving consciously through her cycles, it is easier to feel connected, and flow down-river, or up through the earth in this case. If you look at an Astrological chart set for any of the four yearly Solstice and Equinox ‘quadrants,’ they speak of the energies being birthed for the coming three months, until the next ‘birth, or cycle of change. We cannot change planetary positions, or the electro magnetic field of their relationships, but we can make choices about how we wish to use and respond to those energies, even the difficult ones…. especially the difficult ones. In these fast flying years of major unpredictable shifts, and re-alignments, or the Chinese interpretation, “…living in interesting times,” it is more important to consider soul-questions such as… If my soul chose this life experience how can I best utilize it? Why now? Why this incarnation with these people? What am I to learn? How do I overcome and prosper? Offer? Become? Mitigate? Love? Create? Taking the micro from the macro, we might ask similar questions at the change-time of the four quadrants. The Equinoxes and Solstices are shift-signifiers, offering calendar turning points: What nurtures me? Who am I these spring-green days? Am I truly tasting life? Who do I love? How do they love me? How can I help? How do I find center? What is……

This was a front page story in the San Francisco Chronicle. It relates the plight of a female humpback whale who had become entangled in a spider web of crab-traps and lines. She was weighted down by many pounds of traps that forced her to struggle to stay afloat, and there were hundreds of yards of line wrapped around her tail and torso, with a line caught and tugging her mouth. A fisherman spotted her just east of the Farallon Islands (outside the Golden Gate) and radioed an environmental group for help. Within a few hours, the rescue team arrived and determined that she was so bad off, the only way to save her was to dive in and untangle her as quickly as possible. This is extremely dangerous for one slap of the tail could kill a rescuer. They worked for hours with patience and curved knives, eventually freeing her. When completely loose, the divers say she swam in what seemed like joyous circles. She then came back to each and every diver, one at a time, and nudged them, pushing them gently around. She thanked them. Some said it was the most incredibly beautiful experience of their lives. The man who cut the rope out of her mouth said her eye followed him the entire time, and he will never be the same. Lest we forget how connected we are, and the responsibility owed. Asana: Ardha Matsyendrasana/ Half Lord of the Fish Pose. Sit on the floor, bending knees, place L foot under the buttocks, (keep foot horizontal, little toe on ground) or keep sitts bones rooted into the floor, tucking L foot beside R hip. Bend R knee and lift R leg, placing foot on floor by the outer L thigh/knee, R ankle touching L knee, shin……

The happenstance of having a card fall out of a drawer saved you from receiving a rant today, and more importantly …saved me from remaining stuck in it. I’m always amazed by how the Universe offers opportunity to move on. Time and again, it subtly, or not so subtly, signals, “Turn left here, two inches only.” We pass on by for the most part, but sometimes we get lucky, and I think that with Practice we become luckier. “What is the card that fell from the drawer, that saved us both,” you ask? “Barn’s burned down, now I can see the moon,” is beautifully scripted across the front. Suddenly the depressive choke of late February changed. My grumpiness with heating bills run amuck, dirty snow, un-kept New Year’s promises, and no accomplishment on the horizon took the necessary two inch shift to the left. In that instant, an ‘OhmyGod’ moment manifested. “These ‘terrible days’ are my last wonderful days to turn within, to become quiet before green out-rushing spring energy pushes me elsewhere. In seeing ‘the moon’ my chich melted. How do these shifts happen? I don’t know. If I did I would not spend so much time confused, out of sorts, or raging at teapot-tempests. I realize I should be able to conjure small miracles, if one can classify any miracle as small, I’m a Yogini after all. Does that not imply I can create my own contentment, be at peace, in tune with whatever Ma Nature is handing out? Indeed. Truth be written, re-booting the passionate/peaceful/inspired life is no easy thing. I put a lot of junk in the way of attaining it, my attitude being the largest hurdle. Clearly what/how we think is the life we have. If you attach emotion to those thoughts then the Universe……

A Doctor has described our bulbous, calorie-laden consumption of lemon creams, toffee butternuts, and chocolaty devil mousse’s as ‘gut bombs.’ Those nirvana, heat seeking missives of cholesterol and wide waists that call to us like the Sirens do more than make us hefty, they render us unconscious. When I have polished off a pot pie, or deep fried bits, along with the ice cream that goes with, I can lay insensate for hours, oblivious to the day’s requirements. Not only sugar but white, crusty bread, begging its butter slathering, or pastry logs of sugary fruit commence days of high despair, disappointment, and oblivion. Surrendering long ago to the cheap, low-life grabby fingers of sugar addiction, I have been yanking myself around it ever since, and therefore am very taken with the term ‘gut bomb’ for a number of reasons. 1. It’s silly sounding, and very onomatopoetic, that is, a word that sounds like its referent, as in buzz, cookoo, or crack. Gut Bomb is creatively visual, therefore hard to ignore, whereas saturated fats, caloric intake, BMI index, blah blah blah do nothing but drive me toward the ‘fridge and guilt. 2. Gut Bomb implies the destruction is more than just from food. The expected explosion feels visceral, connected to heart and mind, the gut being only the first tank to blow in the assault. 3. The vividness demands I ask, “Why am I craving a gut bomb? What is the unmet need that is assuaged by this mound, this bomb of sugar, Crisco, butter, and salt? Or perhaps it is drugs, sex, rock ‘n roll, gambling, drink…even perfectionism. Why am I asking to go ‘out’ at this time? What is the alarm bell that needs bombing in order for me to feel safe and placated? If the dark henchman of……

Today’s the day we’ve arbitrarily assigned to hold the heart. That’s quite a dedication, delicious in its enigmatic beginnings. Valentine’s Day has been handed down through superstition, supposition, and an assortment of maybe this, maybe that. For it to have survived, and grown out of confusion and misinformation, it is clearly a need of the psyche at this time of the year. While Valentine’s Day may have risen out of honoring Valentinus’ death, around 270 AD, it may just as well have had to do with the Christianizing of the Roman fertility festival, Lupercalia, dedicated to Faunus, the God of agriculture; a pagan celebration of spring and hoped for crops. We have traveled light years from killing goats and dipping strips of hide in blood to slap women and fields into producing abundantly. But perhaps we hold onto this antiquated festival/saint/celebration because the heart yearns to be abundant. We long for the heat of creativity, and the inexplicable appearance of green buds during this last cold, closed-down stretch. Who do we yearn for when the chips are really down? We turn to the one who holds our heart, the one who reaches for our hand, not the one who explains why things aren’t going well. When winter’s grip has held us until we’re a fed-up-blue, it is the reassurance of blood red blood we desire, not an intellectual grey, off white, or beige. Before spring is sprung, we do not seek righteousness in greater patience so much as the great honking of returning geese, and tiny snow drops pushing through snowy crust. These are heart- missives. Late on a day dedicated to a supposed Saint, who may or may not have sent the first billet doux, let us renew our blood-red heart’s song, and yes, our patience, our hope, and……