The Primary Reason I Wish I Could Whistle
Sometimes there is little more cheering than singing (and, if I only could, whistling) along with Eric Idle.
Sometimes there is little more cheering than singing (and, if I only could, whistling) along with Eric Idle.
Precious are the mornings when the light is soft
And the air is gentle–for those who consciously clothe themselves
With respect for the intermarriage between
Their body and the day–and when the play of shapes and colors
In the sky and upraised trees dances visions
Of the vast creativity of Being. No doubts arising
Until one reads the news and, once again,
Must reconcile in heart and mind what is there with
The teachings that all is one and full of joy.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Last year I decided to bring this murti of Kuan Yin outside. I asked my neighbor if it was ok, as her parents came here from China, . My neighbor welcomed this presence in the space between our yards and also appreciated that I asked.

It’s an idiosyncratic grouping, but it is my weaving of stories for the moment.
I believe the brass dish under the cactus on the left was a wedding present, though I am not absolutely certain of that. It was a long time ago.
The cloth with the tassels came from a shaman in Peru; I was there for 9/11.
I bought the gray scarf when I was in Costa Rica on a retreat with John Friend from a world-traveling fellow yoga practitioner who had brought an array of beautiful scarves to Costa Rica from Thailand.
Other things were brought home from India–mostly by me, but one a treasured gift from a friend.
The porcupine quills were also an inspired and loving gift.
The square of marble under the cactus on the right I found on the street in the neighborhood. The cactii came from a yard sale over a decade ago. They were being sold for only blooming once a year.
The bit of mother of pearl comes from Centerport beach on Long Island. I went there last fall the day before my father’s memorial service.
Other things came from vendors at Eastern Market and one from New York City.
The chestnut is from Stanton Park. I picked it up on my way to work one beautiful day last year.
The heart-shaped stone came from Arizona when I was on a meditation retreat some time late in the last decade. I’ve been to some really lovely places on this planet.
The mala Kuan Yin is wearing I strung and designed: rudraksha beads from my first meditation mala (which had broken), labradorite, and emeralds on silk thread.
The jet beads belonged to my grandmother Rose.
There’s a story about the lump of black and red rock behind Ganesha, but I think I’ll leave that for another day.
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Indeed.
I can whistle, usually.