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The Front Garden

I don’t talk much about my front garden because it is not as exciting for me as the back garden with its edibles and herbs.  I give a sincere effort to make the front garden beautiful and welcoming since it is my interface with the neighborhood and all who walk past my house.  The front is very shady and two maple trees block the rain and drink most of the water that gets past the leaves, so it has taken some effort to find plants that thrive.  Much of what is in my garden comes from other gardening friends.  Plants that come from friends near-by are likely to do well moved down the street.  As my garden has matured, it has needed divisions, thus giving me an opportunity to share, in turn, with younger friends and neighbors.  It thus nourishes in important ways, though it offers nothing to eat.

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    Article About Anusara Yoga and Aging

    Congratulations and thanks for my friends and fellow Anusara yoga instructors, Kathy Carroll and Ellen Saltonstall for publishing, Effects of Anusara Yoga on Older Students From Their Perspective (Topics in Geriatric Rehabilitation • Volume 27, Number 2, 94–103 • Copyright © 2011 Wolters Kluwer Health | Lippincott Williams & Wilkins).  They are both great teachers and warm spirits.  Check out one of their classes when you have a chance.

    A big thanks, too, for the regulars at the William Penn House class who graciously allowed themselves to be photographed.

     

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    Flashpoint

    I went tonight to the space at Flashpoint to see a dance performance by people I know from the Sunday contact improv jam. One of the things that I am finding thought-provoking about the jamming with dancers is dancing for the sake of the dance, but also as a practice for those who perform. I went to support friends appearing in a small venue. I know how much I appreciate it when people make an effort to come to workshops, and in the days when I was still exhibiting art, to my openings. I also went to be able to witness from the space of pure observer, my friends in performance mode, so that I could learn and appreciate more about the dialogue and dialect of dancers and the dance. And I went because it was fun.

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

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    Fraying at the Seams (and Samskaras)

    I have spent most of the last three days working from home so that I could be on site while repairs ensuing from the earthquake and hurricane were done.  I’ve been luckier than most in the path.  The damages I sustained from these extreme forces of nature can all can be repaired with relative ease.  The leak in the living room was from gaps between the house and the windowsill and the porch roof and the house.  The leaks in the upstairs bathroom were from screws attaching the skylight to the roof having been shaken loose.  The 100-year old gutter pulled away from the house and sprang some leaks, but can get wait another year or so with just being patched instead of replaced.  The cracks in the brick and the mortar dislodged and completely washed away call for repointing before winter, but that was going to have to be done in the next five or six years anyway.  Several more things got loosened or lifted up or away from where they were supposed to be, but that is why god made caulk guns and foam sealant in spray cans.

    What I find interesting about looking at the damage is that the worst of it was at places that previously required repairs during my 21+ years in the house; some of these, based on the way the ceilings had already bulged or cracked when I moved in were evidently chronic trouble spots perhaps since the house was built.  Why those places?  It could be the soil on which the house sits, the direction it faces, the activities of neighbors, the presence and absence of trees around the house, the minor, but daily tremor caused by the D6  bus.  If something was going to come apart at the seams in the house, it is not surprising it came apart where it is inclined to come apart and even less surprising that Hurricane Irene created more damage because the house was already fraying at the seams because of the earthquake (and the continuing aftershocks).  The places that came apart under stress were the places where the old repairs did not reintegrate fully into the integrity of the design and function of the house.   Those are still are the vulnerable spots, the places most likely to come apart in a blizzard or a hurricane or an earthquake.  The better and more thoughtfully integrated into the rest of the structure of the house a repair, though, the more likely it is to cease to be a spot for future repairs.  Some old repairs that were done mindfully have ceased even to be remembered as places where a repair was required.

    The same sort of pulling apart at the edges, at the weak spots, at the less than optimal repairs of old injuries, as happened with the house in the past few weeks, happens to me when challenges and opportunities for personal growth pile on, as they have been doing for me for the past several weeks, starting with things wholly unrelated to the weather.  Although I am taking things in stride and with ever more flexibility and openness the more I practice, I can feel my familiar default setting–anxiety and sadness–emerging at the stress points.  None of the personal things that had come up before the earthquake and hurricane, nor the impact of both and the preparation for the latter, alone would have been enough to shake me up much.  As they become a basketful, though, I can feel my old tendencies closer to the surface with each thing that gets added into the experience.

    Just like the places where the house tends to come apart, my tendency to get anxious and the triggers for the anxiety are familiar spots.  They have been there for decades.  Perhaps they came from another life.  For the house, the original spots may have started with the materials–the character of the trees and stones and mud and ore out of which the house was built.  Some of my stress points I recognize in my parents and my grandparents whether or not they come from previous lives of my own, some are related to my physical make-up, some from the exact place and time of my birth.

    These tendencies of ours are samskaras — the ingrained patterns that are the results from our actions, impressions — some deeper than others — in the very fabric of our being that shape how we behave and respond to what comes, thus creating more samskaras.  The more we respond in our habitual way, the more imbedded become the samskaras and the more they keep us from being conscious of and aligned with the fullness of being.  One of the key benefits of practicing (meditation and other practices) is to lessen how impressionable we are, that is, to make it so that new stresses do not deepen old patterns or create additional patterns that take us out of alignment with the flow of being.

    As I feel old stuff getting churned up, I seek to dissolve and benignly release it through my practices, while  steadily, and as mindfully as I can, doing what needs to be done to get on with this fully-engaged householder life at this wild time.  It is one of my intentions to practice sufficiently so that I will be able to be in the flow and respond in the highest no matter what comes.  There will likely be more and greater challenges than what I have already in this lifetime experienced.

     

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