Do not be afraid
to be afraid
Be afraid
Then...
Hope, Wonder,
and Love
Saturday, September 20, 2008
A Blessing
I enjoyed such a special yoga class today. My mother and I took my two daughters to a girls-only session. They were thrilled to be in the studio, and see my teachers again, and generally just be as cool and fun as I am.
I love spending time with them. They are so the light of my life.
During partner work, we sang this to each other:
May the longtime sun
shine upon you -
All love
surround you -
The pure light
within you
Guide your way on
Namaste
I love spending time with them. They are so the light of my life.
During partner work, we sang this to each other:
May the longtime sun
shine upon you -
All love
surround you -
The pure light
within you
Guide your way on
Namaste
Virtual Virtue
I adore the pumpkin and spice color scheme of this coffee house. It’s so autumnal. A great place to look around and write about what catches my attention.
At the next table, a man wears a dark green t-shirt. The front has the illustration from the Cascade dish detergent box. The back reads, “So Clean We’re Virtually Spotless.”
Virtually spotless. Spotless virtual reality. My imagination churns and makes me hopeful. Maybe someday we will have virtual worlds that we can escape to with the intention of enjoying spotlessness, if only for a brief while.
Although, now that I think about it, in the virtual worlds we already have like Second Life, it seems people are much more attracted to the spots than the cleanliness. Rather than striving to be better creatures, they turn themselves loose. The universal wildness of human (or frequently animal) nature. What’s that all about?
At the next table, a man wears a dark green t-shirt. The front has the illustration from the Cascade dish detergent box. The back reads, “So Clean We’re Virtually Spotless.”
Virtually spotless. Spotless virtual reality. My imagination churns and makes me hopeful. Maybe someday we will have virtual worlds that we can escape to with the intention of enjoying spotlessness, if only for a brief while.
Although, now that I think about it, in the virtual worlds we already have like Second Life, it seems people are much more attracted to the spots than the cleanliness. Rather than striving to be better creatures, they turn themselves loose. The universal wildness of human (or frequently animal) nature. What’s that all about?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Maybe I'm learning why the sea on the tide
There's a lot to like in Roxy Music's More Than This. Of course, it reminds me of high school, but in a generalized, comforting way. Unlike so many nostalgic songs, it's not tied to any particular moments or associations for me.
Then there's the mellow sound, very flowing and relaxing.
But, best of all, thanks to my helpful friend Google, I now know what the actual words are saying. Instead of just humming general phonemes, I have meaning.
And I like those lyrics very much indeed, although I still only understand them in an organic way, like a poem, rather than in a concrete way. Which is all the better I think.
Then there's the mellow sound, very flowing and relaxing.
But, best of all, thanks to my helpful friend Google, I now know what the actual words are saying. Instead of just humming general phonemes, I have meaning.
And I like those lyrics very much indeed, although I still only understand them in an organic way, like a poem, rather than in a concrete way. Which is all the better I think.
Poetry, Then
Poetry, then, is not an answer
But only a process
A drawing down into the self
During hypnosis I drift my
Conscious mind down, down
To the silt-silked bottom
Of a tranquil lake
Having myself lie, still and serene
With the great calm weight of the
Water pressing full around me
Like poetry
I wear glasses now
With an intellectual look
That others admire
And every day I ask myself
Who am I?
8-26-07
(After reading an interview with
new Poet Laureate Charles Simic.)
But only a process
A drawing down into the self
During hypnosis I drift my
Conscious mind down, down
To the silt-silked bottom
Of a tranquil lake
Having myself lie, still and serene
With the great calm weight of the
Water pressing full around me
Like poetry
I wear glasses now
With an intellectual look
That others admire
And every day I ask myself
Who am I?
8-26-07
(After reading an interview with
new Poet Laureate Charles Simic.)
What to Do? What to Do? What to Do?
This sagacity came from dear Ursula, who is much wiser than I:
Remember - stones are hard, the weather changes, and men are men.
Remember - stones are hard, the weather changes, and men are men.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Nibbling Olives with God
So another day, another yoga class. My goal this week is daily attendance. After a wonderful class with many twists, downward facing dog, upward facing dog, frog pose, crow pose (darn it!), and my improved kick-ass tree pose as practiced on the sunny shore, we stretch out for relaxing Savasana.
As always, I’m eager to find out what my experience of this relaxation will be. You’ll remember that yesterday my body faded away. No such luck today. Body’s still there, whispering little reminders. Mind’s still there too, ticking along like a happy little wristwatch. Here, there, everywhere go my thoughts. Tick, tick, tick.
Oh, well. I breathe and accept it. The instant I do it all deepens for me. Suddenly, I am plunged through my inner self into the vast limitless expanse that lingers there. God is waiting for me.
“Oh, so delightful to see You!” I think.
God gives his usual wry and loving wordless reply.
“Yeah, yeah, You are always here. I’m the one who forgets to visit. Okay, I get it.” God doesn’t mind if I roll my eyes, or get a little attitude sometimes. He’s pretty forgiving.
Today, God is like… God. Traditional. Male, benevolent, paternal, wise and kind. Often my conception of God is of a willowy red-haired woman who wears flowing, green gauzy dresses that set off her creamy skin. She is ageless, beautiful and lives in an indescribably charming cottage in the midst of a lush, flower-filled garden. We like to chat and eat homemade cinnamon rolls in her welcoming parlor.
Today, God wants to go somewhere. He takes me out to a nearby bar and orders martinis. I love this bar; it’s classy, well appointed, and vaguely European in a cosmopolitan way. God has (of course) good taste.
It’s just what I need too. Just a chance to hang out in the comfortingly dim light, watching the glowing end of cigarettes, and grooving to the music that wraps around us like a warm haze. God likes His music with some bass. It’s a little loud for me, but I’m not about to complain.
I sit there and sip, and groove, and relax. When our drinks are gone, we nibble our olives and smile at each other. “Delicious,” I say, “Thanks so much.”
Across the studio, the music fades and the teacher chimes the copper bell three times. I come back into my body on the mat, chuckling as I roll up to easy pose. Namaste.
As always, I’m eager to find out what my experience of this relaxation will be. You’ll remember that yesterday my body faded away. No such luck today. Body’s still there, whispering little reminders. Mind’s still there too, ticking along like a happy little wristwatch. Here, there, everywhere go my thoughts. Tick, tick, tick.
Oh, well. I breathe and accept it. The instant I do it all deepens for me. Suddenly, I am plunged through my inner self into the vast limitless expanse that lingers there. God is waiting for me.
“Oh, so delightful to see You!” I think.
God gives his usual wry and loving wordless reply.
“Yeah, yeah, You are always here. I’m the one who forgets to visit. Okay, I get it.” God doesn’t mind if I roll my eyes, or get a little attitude sometimes. He’s pretty forgiving.
Today, God is like… God. Traditional. Male, benevolent, paternal, wise and kind. Often my conception of God is of a willowy red-haired woman who wears flowing, green gauzy dresses that set off her creamy skin. She is ageless, beautiful and lives in an indescribably charming cottage in the midst of a lush, flower-filled garden. We like to chat and eat homemade cinnamon rolls in her welcoming parlor.
Today, God wants to go somewhere. He takes me out to a nearby bar and orders martinis. I love this bar; it’s classy, well appointed, and vaguely European in a cosmopolitan way. God has (of course) good taste.
It’s just what I need too. Just a chance to hang out in the comfortingly dim light, watching the glowing end of cigarettes, and grooving to the music that wraps around us like a warm haze. God likes His music with some bass. It’s a little loud for me, but I’m not about to complain.
I sit there and sip, and groove, and relax. When our drinks are gone, we nibble our olives and smile at each other. “Delicious,” I say, “Thanks so much.”
Across the studio, the music fades and the teacher chimes the copper bell three times. I come back into my body on the mat, chuckling as I roll up to easy pose. Namaste.
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