This Way Up

Like mile markers on the highway, I look to vacations to be a measuring post of where I am and where I'm going.  To see just how far down the highway of progress I am.  Based on that, I have to conclude that I'm going round and round in dizzying circles, feeling like I'm getting nowhere fast.  I came to Sedona, full of expectations, forgetting to focus on the effort and not the results.  Thinking the magic combination of Sedona and vacation would somehow result in magic juju without making effort.  

Effort.  That's what we need to focus on each day.  We've got enough shrapnel coming at us from all directions to knock us off our feet.  Each day, we need to put on the shield of effort, to stay grounded and within ourselves.  Faith is good to have, true, but when it's done in the dark and without effort, it can be blinding. 

I've spent some time wondering about my situation and how to make it better, craving for a simpler existence.  What does that mean, simpler existence?  Time would be better spent just being.  Rest in the space, rather than fill it with anxiety inducing mental applesauce.  Just be.  The simpler existence I've come to befriend these past two years will be right there.  

The question is then, how to catapult myself into the next phase.  It starts with effort.  It starts with today.  Each day, it starts with today.  

Reflection

Of all of the ocean's waves that have come ashore through all of the world's time, no two have been or will ever be the same.

Lessons in Nature

The Brown gull was clearly upset.  The White gull had done something prior to our witness to set Brown off.  White was wandering around, not really looking to escape, not looking like he really cared at all.  Yet Brown cared.  Brown cared deeply.  White was going to pay.  Brown cried at White, begging for satisfaction.  Brown even went as far as to try to pry White's beak open.  Yet White just wandered.  Brown followed.

This dance continued for at least 15 minutes.  Not really sure how the curtain finally closed on the dance routine but I'm fairly certain that White finally moved on. Brown continued alone for a bit before finally letting go.  Oh, the pain we cause ourselves by clinging and not letting go.  Just as big a lesson was the importance of being steady as a mountain and non-attaching.

Thank you Brown and White.  Brown, I hope you have found satisfaction and are resting peacefully.  And White, perhaps some compassion next time?

Quieting the Static

I recently completed building a tiny platform out of leftover pavers from prior projects in the wooded portion of the backyard.  I built it to use it as an outdoor meditation area; a place to give me a different experience in my practice.  I've used it twice this week to sit and for sure, it does present a different experience.

Inside, my space is in half of the room that also holds my home office, presenting a kind of serious juxtaposition within a room.  Although the concept of a room with two very different purposes has been useful in its own way.  My space in that room offers me a very peaceful and quiet place to sit and meditate.  My mind, noisy as usual, usually finds the ability to quiet down fairly well now.  The absence of most noise helps considerable.

My outdoor space presents quite a contrast.  I have never heard the local birds to make quite the sounds they do; almost tropical in nature.  Multiple landscapers are busy cutting local grass as they work to stay ahead of nature's desire to cover the earth with grass and plants.  Is Thursday a garbage pick up day in the neighborhood across the way?  Evidently, yes it is.  The drone of trucks as they fly down Route 206 in their effort to get to Point B.

And while my first reaction was noting how loud it is, I quickly realized that this cacophony is analogous to the constant noise in my mind.  Lets just sit with it and focus on the object of meditation (although I needed to select a different one as I could not hear my breath!).  Let go of all around us.  Calm the mind.  Don't attach to the constant static.

Let It Breath

Stockpiling firewood in the garage today for the eventual return of winter to our home, I found the wood under the tarp to be moist with dew.  Evidently, my thorough covering of the pile, from earth to earth on all four sides, caused dew to form and drip upon the split logs of future warmth.

My Dad had taught me back in the day, when I didn't appreciate the lesson, that you must cover just the top, otherwise, the woodpile will behave exactly as mine had.  Go figure.  Dad was right.  Again.  Always resistant to his teachings, I guess my mind did keep one ear open to his lessons, perhaps understanding that one day his wisdom would come in handy.  I continue to learn from him, finally listening all these days later.

Which got me to thinking.  What other teachings did I pick up from Dad?

His passion for gardening.  I will never be the gardener my Dad was but every time I'm planting the annual Bok Choy "crop" or the lettuce in the planters that will reap tender greens for a future lunch, my Dad is in my memory.  His passion for his garden was legendary.

His extreme love for the outdoors.  Not don't misunderstand.  He loved the outside but was not extreme.  No boarding the half pipe or sweating and bleeding through a triathlon.  Not him.  But he did like to walk, he did love to camp and he did wax up the old cross country skis at the mere hint of snow.  The guy just loved breathing in the fresh air of the out of doors.

His love for sports.  His love for competitive sports was infectious.  In his latter days, when the eyesight was poor at best, he could be found cuddled up closely to the TV screen, trying his best to not miss any of the action.  Fortunately for him, he did finally get to see his beloved Boston Red Sox win a World Series before he passed in 2006.

It is through my Dad that I learned the importance of loyalty.  He spent all of his career with one company but more importantly, he spent over 50 years with the love of his life, his wife, my Mom.  Such steadfast love, such devotion.

Thanks Dad.  You are always in my heart and mind.  I have only begun to consider how to live up to the example you have set, particularly, your love for helping others.  Like the cover of the wood pile, I need to let the process breath...

Tears

For those of you who have been following me for awhile, this one is a repeat.  While a few years old, its relevance is just as vital now.   Thanks for indulging me.


The fog settled heavy on the hills.  Clouds bursting with moisture hung like heavy pillows near the tree tops.  I looked up with envy as I drove my car around the bend in the highway.  Knowing where I was going but knowing where I belonged.  Life's distractions tend to overwhelm but once it's a pattern, you don't notice it anymore.  Until your own cloud bursts and the flood erodes the roots of life.

Got to get back out there, to smell the dirt and jump the rocks.  To open my mind in my hiking trance.  To be grooving along so fast, in such a meditative state, that I lose sense of time and being.  I float above the blazed path as the roots of life spread deeply in my emerging brain.  The rain falls in a steady cadence as my oblivion evolves into a simple understanding.

Free

The chanting was compelling; the soft drumming more so.  It was a beautiful sunny day, our first in Sedona for this, our bi-annual sojourn.  We had walked up from the upper parking lot at the Buddhist Stupa.  There were more prayer flags than I remember in the past.  Familiar small ragged ones amidst the newer large ones.

As we reached the Stupa, the light drumming and vocal chanting drew us is.  I can't say why, other than the similar emotion felt when I smudge with sage.  An automatic reaction to a positive stimulus.  As the three souls created this audible magic, my girl and I drew seats on the platform, directly behind them.  Eyes closed, I focused on my breath as I took in the wonder.

The monk dressed in traditional garb, had done this once or twice before.  Her following of the words in her tattered book were clearly from memory.  Like clockwork, she would stand, leave the platform, and approach the Stupa, where the intentions and prayers of millions were inside, radiating their good will to those around.  She offered symbolic gifts and rituals before returning to her seat to continue the ceremony.

Feeling lucky to be a close witness to this unveiling, we also fell penned in as the three on the platform were now positioned so our departure was difficult at best.  So we sat.  We sat as the monk poured a liquid into the others as well as her own hands.  They would then slurp it up and put the rest on their heads.  This was followed by an offering of what appeared to be a plate of cookies for each. Evidently, Buddha was a fan of Fig Newtons.

Sensing an opportunity, my girl and I both stood and slipped away past the unintended blockade.  We were free of the platform, yes, but we also felt a bit freer knowing that the community is praying for us all.  Stronger from the brief encounter, we moved forward with the medicine, hopeful we can help others as we have been helped.