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Firefly Tattoo?

I was looking at an age spot on my forearm the other day and wondered whether I should get a tattoo to cover or incorporate it.  “Something small and modest, but with meaning,” I thought.  “Something that would not admit to the original reason.  Perhaps a realistic version of the smallest of butterflies.”  Then I thought without any apparent trigger, “what about a firefly?”  When they are not lit up, they look like the kind of bug we would swat at or try to avoid, but at night, when the firefly glows, it is magic.

How many things are there that seem ordinary or even distasteful until we open our eyes, our minds, and our hearts to see their full and true essence?

I do not know whether I will get the tattoo.  But I hope that those that can (those with backyards) will take a few simple steps to make a home for some fireflies.

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    Svadharma

    Instead of making intentions that quite possibly are influenced by the capitalist patriarchy, I invite you to ask yourself what is your purpose, who you are, what strengths you have to serve the collective, what is your svadharma and what might nourish your living it to the fullest?

    My house is clean and I made a delicious meal and I will be in bed long before midnight.

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    Walking and Shopping in the Neighborhood (and brahmacharya)

    Yesterday afternoon when I came home from teaching I wanted to be out for a walk in the neighborhood more than I wanted to be alone in the garden, but I also wanted to be serving the garden.  I combined the two by walking the ten blocks to Gingko Gardens — our wonderful Capitol Hill nursery.  It is a little more expensive than some of the nurseries out in the burbs, but I know the owner and have friends in common, I always bump into neighbors when I am shopping there, and they are experts in what grows and works in our little urban gardens.  I was thrilled when they opened a number of years ago and want them to continue to thrive, so I make a point of shopping there.  I bought some seeds and some planting medium for starting seeds indoors and ordered a few containers and organic potting soil for delivery.

    In addition, after having done a bunch of research on rain barrels over the week, I also asked whether Gingko would deliver and install rain barrels from Aqua Barrel, which is located in Gaithersburg.  Answer, “yes.”  (For those of you in the suburbs, Amicus Green also carries and installs them).  It took me a long time to assess what style barrel would work for me and where it should be placed.  I was hoping to support a local manufacturer to cut down on wasteful transportation.  I also know that given my circumstances it is critical that it be installed correctly with a good diverter system.  It is good for me to do the research but then bring in a professional to make sure it is right.  I made an appointment and am looking forward to being able to align a little better with nature (by using rain water run-off instead of scarce, potable water for the garden) and to support the neighborhood (by buying locally and hiring resident professionals).  And I bumped into a fellow yogi and gardener while I was shopping; inspired by the chat, she, too, made an appointment to discuss rain barrel installation.

    To me, this is one way of bringing yoga off the mat.  One of the key principles in Patanjali’s yoga sutras is the practice of brahmacharya, which literally means aligning with Brahma.  The classical translation is celibacy.  Many modern translators substitute “moderation.”  This way of living, is of course, moderate.  It is living a western lifestyle on the grid, but choosing to consume in a way that supports friends, neighbors, and manufacturers who use recycled materials to create products that will help us all to be a little kinder to the environment, while nurturing my home and self.

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    What Made Me Notice?

    Yesterday was the first day of the season working in the youth garden at the National Arboretum. Something made me look up. A bald eagle perhaps 40-50 feet overhead before soaring higher. “Look; follow my finger,” I called to my fellow gardeners, pointing to where the great bird was flying. They all looked up, and we shared a moment of awe.

    “What made me notice?” one of my companions asked. I could not say exactly. I could have seen it’s shadow or perhaps even, without hearing it well enough to identify the sound, heard the wind in the eagle’s feathers. Or perhaps just instinct.

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