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Robert’s Dendrobium

roberts-dendrobium2A number of years ago, when he was moving from Capitol Hill to Denver, my friend and former neighbor Robert gave me this dendrobium orchid, which bloomed this year for me for the first time.  The dendrobium was just an extra.  If you know orchids, you can see that it is planted with a vanda.  These orchids came from Robert’s mother’s garden in Florida.  When she had to give up her place in Florida, Robert brought home some of the orchids, including the vanda.  If I know Robert, he just saw a baby dendrobium in the garden and stuck it in with the vanda when he carried it back north to Capitol Hill.  When Robert moved to Colorado, he left the vanda with me because he did not expect it to tolerate the Colorado climate.  Even here, the vanda is not likely to bloom.  Not enough heat, light, or humidity in DC (really!!!).  But after five or six years of steady care, the dendrobium flourished and finally bloomed.  Robert inspired my affection for orchids; he had a greenhouse and knew each one of his tropical plants intimately.  We would go to an orchid show or nursery, and he would look with love on each and every plant, cherishing their individual traits, no matter how small or large.  At the botanical gardens, he had different plants he visited and enjoyed.  Now his yard has cactii and peppers.  He has a few of his most faithful orchids, which are flourishing and which were delightful to visit, and I have this lovely reminder of a time when Robert was one of my local gardening buddies.  This, I think is one of the extra joys of gardening, especially with houseplants that come from cuttings.  They have a history with our family and friends that is passed on, cherished, and shared.  I also have a night-blooming cereus that was a baby from a plant that started as a baby of one in his mother’s garden.  The night mine first bloomed (just a single night in the year), the parent plant with Robert in Denver also bloomed.

Bonus love from this particular dendrobium; it is scented!

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    I Am Resigned

    This week, I am resigned that Anusara has finally dissolved too completely for it to live on in any way that resembled its former self, the most sweetly and bravely hopeful having at last been pushed away by the concatenation of energetic forces.  Though I never actually said:  “I have resigned,” during these months of observing the intense communications of other members of the community,”  I have said with resignation:  “what is there to resign from?” “from what would I be resigning?” and have wondered whether and to what end I should express it out loud.

    I haven’t felt able to say anything specific  until I was sure I could trust that whatever I said was coming from my heart and truly honored all the gifts of learning and friendship from this decade of practice in the Anusara community.  The joy, the knowledge, and the healing fruits of the practice remain part of my being and teaching even if the relationship that facilitated them is no longer tenable.  I have an idea that being a part of this break up/break apart/act of Siva/Kali/Durga — what should we call it?–might itself have been meant by the universe as a teaching for me about relationship and community (perhaps sort of like being whacked on the head for fidgeting in meditation–though I never sought out the whacking on the head kind of teacher or practice).

    Since the first posting on the internet in the extraordinary world of social media, I felt a relunctance to engage in the on-line conversation and a deep call and responsibility to practice.  When I am sitting in meditation, when I am practicing asana — and when I am dancing at the contact improv jam — is when I know to my core that the gift of the practices and the opportunity to share the practices in community as an ongoing exploration of mind, body, and relationship matters more to me than the structure of the community or who is leading at any given time.  Along with asana, meditation, and studying, I have been practicing bhavana (deep meditative contemplation) on the inextricably intertwined processes of dissolution and creation.  Having been forced to go deeper from this whack on the head as it were, I am seeing better than I have before in this embodiment  patterns in my actions/reactions  for which ways to rework, undo, shift, reweave into more harmonious ways of being are revealing and unfolding themselves.

    During these weeks, I kept thinking the time was ripe to write publicly about my reaction to what was happening and then I would contemplate whatever words I had thought I should say and realized that I still was not ready.  I suppose some part of me was hopeful, though I have also been from the first resigned to the imminent scattering and shifting and dancing into different constellations of all of our voices as teachers trained in this style that no longer has a referent for its name nor a precise shape.

    I confess that I am more concerned about Mitt Romney, Scott Walker, Trayvon Martin, global climate change, the recession, my garden, and my friends and family, than I have been with John Friend, though I miss the delight of getting together to practice en masse and the comfort of being recognized as part of a skilled community of teachers together under the banner of a respected trademark.  And how joyous at its heyday our collective  explorations on the mat of the exquisite, elegant, and healing universal principles of alignment.  I am doing my best to take what I have learned from yoga practice (Anusara and not) and study to inform how I act, speak, and relate to the community in its evolving incarnations and to the how and what I offer my students.  To support my practice and the community, I have been continuing to attend workshops with friends and teachers who have inspired me over this decade.  It is good to practice in smaller groups closer to home.  It is good to see my practice buddies.

    I never did formally resign (perhaps I was stuck like Arjuna’s sitting paralyzed on the battlefield, perhaps it was something more or less than that), but I am resigned, in the way of a graduate who liked the comfort of the structure of school but who knows she must go out into the world and make her way, that there is no choice left but to move into relationship with this community of fellow students and teachers in a different way.

    Perhaps  I will have more to say, but I cannot yet say when (though if you’ve been following my blog, you may have noticed how much I was saying in pictures and stories that were on one level about something completely different).

    This is my desk at the office.  The quote is “The Four Agreements” by Miguel Ruiz.  I read “The Four Agreements” at the recommendation of Betsy Downing at the first Anusara yoga retreat I attended, and though it could be seen as so much New Age psychology, I think the agreements themselves are useful guides for considering how to respond when someone pushes my buttons.  Betsy will be at Willow Street Yoga June 22-24  and it would be great to see many of you there. In the meantime, on and off the mat, I continue to contemplate these “agreements” along with the “four gates of speech” and how they can positively shape how I relate and speak to others in my world, especially when things get tough.

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    Avilokitesvara

    Avilokitesvara– god(dess) of compassion had one head and two arms. Zhe didn’t have enough ears to listen to all the stories of suffering, so one of the buddhas busted one head into eleven. Avilokitesvara’s two arms broke from the weight of helping, but instead of two arms broken and worn out, two arms broke into a thousand arms.

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