At long last, now that the leaves are turning color and leaving the trees, and the days are getting shorter, the solar system I had installed was turned “on” this morning. I am hoping to watch the meter go backwards during this low usage month.
One of the things I am most grateful for in these times is the support of the various practices of yoga, and as I find that gratitude nourishes generosity, with my friend Suzann Lynch, I will be offering an all-levels, all ages on-line yoga practice on Thanksgiving morning.
Time: 10:00-11:30am
Date: Thursday, November 26
Register by signing up through this link: https://www.
Please feel free to invite friends and family–whether or not you’ll be in the same space.
Suzanne and I plan to sign in 30 minutes early and stay on afterward so that there is time to connect via video and chat.
Hope to share the practices with many of you.
The pouring rain is an inconvenience on a play day when I am toting baggage, writing materials, and electronic devices. It is hard to remember, when surrounded by concrete, glass, steel, and macadam, how urgently we need the rain. I am hoping for the trees, the farmers, and all of us, that it is also raining back home in DC.
I returned home yesterday from teaching my Willow Street classes and having a late lunch with a friend to a message on my answering machine from my mother advising me that a cousin had died. Although I was not close to my cousin, her parents, my great Aunt and Uncle, were a significant part of my formative years.
As I made telephone calls and sent emails to get coverage for work meetings on Monday and care for the cats so that I could leave for New York, I found myself flooded with long-ago memories of my cousin, my family, and myself. I could also hear and feel old patterns surfacing, as they tend to do in such situations.
In counterpoise to the tumble of memory, I felt a strong pull to go into the space of meditation.
In the spaciousness, I no longer feel trapped by the inevitable consequences from the events giving rise to all those memories that have partly shaped my path. The light of consciousness itself, as the ground of the play and the illumination of inner space, begins to reveal the links and sequnces of the memories, the cause and effect, thus allowing me to see other ways to react. Instead of remaining entangled by trying to dismiss or reject or cling to any part of my history, I could see shapes, sequences, and opportunities.
At lunch, one of the things my friend and I had been discussing was the idea of bringing into “luminous spaciousness” our relationships. John Friend had invited us to think about that concept at the Teachers’ Gathering last month, and I have been contemplating the practice in a variety of contexts and discussing with fellow Anusara yogis what it would mean to them to bring luminous wisdom to relationship by seeking to create the true spaciousness we can find in our practice of yoga and meditation. I had talked about it previously with the friend with whom I lunched yesterday. She asked, “where was your blog entry on luminous spaciousness; I’d been looking forward to it.” “I haven’t found the right context for describing it that would convey what I think it means for my practice,” I’d replied. When I came home to my mother’s message, because I had been continuing both the contemplation and the dialogue, I was focused on the practice when I found myself in a situation where I really needed it. (Great reminder of the need for a steady practice).
I am now on the Long Island Railroad, heading to my parents’ house. Tomorrow we will go back into the City for the memorial service.
As I allow my thoughts to be stirred up–giving myself space, as it were to have natural mind processes–I seek space and light for myself in my relationship with my family to try and foster more love and clarity.
I wanted to share, because I found it so moving and because I have such profound respect for his teaching, the recent reflections from Todd Norian about the healing process.
