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20 Years

This week marks 20 years since I moved into my house.  I have been thinking about how grounding myself to living in one place has shaped my life. In some ways, it has narrowed my path, in others opened it.

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    Whether It Is Good Weather

    When I was out doing an errand at lunchtime, I bumped into a neighbor I haven’t seen in a long time. We did not spend much time talking; I needed to get back home to my work within the short allotted time, and she was meeting someone. “Did I just hear thunder,” she asked. The sky was thick and white with heat and “Code Orange” air. “You might have heard thunder, but there isn’t any rain with it” I replied. We talked about how much we need some good rain. The trees are really struggling. (Note: forget about cleaning any outside things with water. Forget non-edible annuals. Water established trees and perennials very deeply once a week instead of less watering more frequently. Shallow watering in drought conditions promotes growth of fungus and other pesky things.)

    As gardeners, my neighbor and I notice how much rain we are getting in any given season and week. We think about whether the rainfall is what the farmers and the trees and birds and wild animals need, in addition to whether it will interfere with a child’s soccer game or a planned outing. We were at the point that we would far rather get caught out in a deluge than miss out on any chance of rain. On the other hand, those in flooded parts of the north are praying for a few warm (but not blazing hot) dry days in a row. Today’s storm is welcome and needed, though one storm does not end a drought. We need some more good ones for days on end.

    I think the approach of various classes and intensity levels of asana practice can feel like a whether a thunderstorm is welcome weather. Sometimes an outrageously intense and fierce practice is what will bring me to my fullest possibility of growth and expansion. At other times, I need to step back and rest my body. Restorative and other gently therapeutic practices are what nurtures best. Sometimes, I have long, steady periods of moderate practice.

    The more sensitive, aware, and knowledgeable I get about the weather outside and how it impacts life around me, the better able I am to take care of my garden. The more I am sensitive and open to the weather inside and the more knowledgeable both from study and experience of how my practice best aligns with inner and outer weather, the better able I am to live out the yoga principles I seek ever better to follow–the most important being to see the highest first and to be of service.

    Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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    Spring

    When I was walking about yesterday, I thought I could not bear to leave the exuberance of DC’s spring. Only my house sitter would be able to watch all the new seedlings coming up in my garden. I would miss the last of the cherry blossoms. Then I thought that it would be spring where I am going–and no doubt gorgeous in its own way.

    In photo from front to back: tulips, azaleas, redbud, dogwood (pink and white).

    Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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    The Triangle Player

    Yesterday, while watching the Capitol City Symphony and Capitol Hill Chorale’s joint performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony at the Atlas Theater, I noticed with some amusement the cymbol player reading a novel in the wings through the first three movements.  (The triangle player appeared just in time for the fourth movement).

    This reminded me of an anecdote John Friend told at the Anusara Certified Teachers’ Gathering in Denver the other week to illustrate the importance of every person and element to the whole.  He spoke of the triangle player.  What do you say to him after the show, John asked, “great job man;  I love the way you came in right when you were supposed to?”  Even if showing up and playing one beat at the right time is the triangle player’s only job, the triangle player still is an integral part of the composition, though perhaps not as evidently crucial as the first violinist.

    We may not know how we are essential or how we will shift things, but we should always revere and recognize each and every being, including ourselves, as part of the web of existence.

One Comment

  1. I’m envious. 20 years in the same place is a good thing. Narrowing one’s path can lead to deeper living.

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