The problem with trying to run away to make things better is that we still bring ourselves with us. We don’t have the luxury of hitting the “reset” button after we’ve done things that we wish we had not done.
Yoga and meditation practice can help give us a sense, though, of being reset by giving us more and radical acceptance and compassion and the ability to simply marvel at the very intricacies of the dance. From there, we can release what binds from our history and continue on, knowing that it is a choice to respond in the same way as we have in the past when the old patterns confront us again (which they inevitably will).
The moon was incredibly full and bright in a clear sky tonight. When I was walking home from work, I saw a tourist taking pictures of the Capitol. “You’ll want to photograph the moon,” I said, after having just taken a few pictures myself. “Yes, I did,” he replied with a big grin.
As bright as was the moon, the street lights would not have needed to be on so fully as when the moon is just a sliver of a crescent. As I gazed in awe at the luminous beauty of the moon, I thought also about the wondrousness of electric street lights. How is it that we so often take for granted electricity, but marvel at the moon? Is not light in all its forms a source of wonder when we stop to remember? Why resent the street lights for dimming the beauty of the moon when we can instead see their own beauty?
A friend once said that when he heard sirens while he was meditating, he used it as a reminder to share the light of meditation. It is easy to think of roads blocked by emergency vehicles and blaring sirens as disruptions, inconveniences, and annoyances when they are coming for someone other than ourselves. I had a moment of thankfulness this morning that the minor problems are the kind of problems that I have. I was thankful, too, to live where if something bad happens, strangers come to the rescue. I offered healing light to the emergency workers and the person or persons to whom these workers were rushing.
NYC, Philadelphia, DC.
I would not be walking through Lincoln Park past a sculpture of Lincoln emancipating the slaves. There might not have been any slaves to emancipate. My great grand parents might not have made the trip from Eastern Europe to Ellis Island, which might never had been a portal for millions of human beings to arrive by ship from Europe. What an extraordinary web of existence. What do I think is my purpose and what is my part/purpose in the great web–the part I can never have the vision to know because I am inevitably bound by the perspective of my embodiment?