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International Peace Day

It is hard to imagine even one day in a single year when we could lay down our country’s weapons.  I am hoping that the upside of the rancorous budget battles will be an end to the United States’ current engagement in war (because in the worst of things, there is always cause for hope).  Today is International Peace Day.  What are your plans?  Might you make it a theme for your practice or, if you teach, your classes?  If you have the money, make a donation to an organization that works for peace?  Call or write your elected officials or write a letter to the editor of your local newspaper on an issue important to you that impacts world peace (this would include budget issues, education, environment, infrastructure, disaster relief, and family planning, and not just involvement in war itself)?

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    This Evening on the Catio

    The snow pea shoots were
    Especially exquisite.
    And the kale flowers.

    Hydroponic tomato from one of the farmers at the Penn Quarter Thursday market and organic avocado, tossed in tahini and then sprinkled with fine balsamic vinager, supplement sprouts grown on the counter and an assortment of tender garden greens.

    Cool infusion of peppermint, spearmint, lemon balm, and licorice mint.

    The season has turned.

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

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    The Photographer’s Dilemma (and “Morning Sprout Sandwich”)

    At which point I put down the camera and ate.  Uma turned her back and looked out the garden.

    Morning Spout Sandwich–whole grain toast, tahini, avocado, assorted homegrown sprouts, fresh herbs picked the moment before garnishing (dill shown here), a sprinkle of sea salt (optional)

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    Ready or Not Here It Comes (Summer Heat)

    This morning when I stepped out into the back garden, I heard the sound of clippers on the other side of the fence.  It was my back garden neighbor of over 15 years.  “Is that you?” I asked.  “Yes,” was the reply and we both walked up onto our decks so we could see across the fences.  “It must be summer,” my neighbor said, in acknowledgment of it being the first morning of the season we coincided in the garden.  “I am so ready,” he said, and we caught up with the winter news and discussed what was going on in our gardens.  I told him about Becky, marveling at her wonderful long life of 21 years.  “It was time, then,” he commented.  “I still miss her, though,” I replied.

    Yesterday, several people said to me that they were not ready for summer.  Whether people were ready (or not) for the 90 degree weather seemed to depend a lot a preference cold or warm weather.

    It hardly matters whether we are ready for a shift in the seasons, the loss of a precious being, or the arrival of gray hairs and degenerative arthritis (I am finding myself  not ready for any of these, really).

    Life comes to us, ready or not.  We can use our yoga practice, especially asana, to help us expand and shift and be prepared for whatever comes, by inviting all of our practice and our growth (which includes both expansion and contraction) a rich exploration.  We can experiment with where is our edge, listening to both ourselves and our teachers to discover not only what we are ready for, but also how we react when confronted with that for which we think we are not ready.  By seeking the subtle knowledge of when our mind is ahead of our body and when our mind is holding back our body, we can enhance our ability to respond to what comes in the most open, sensitive, discriminating, flexible, and thus, life-enhancing way, on and off the mat.

    In the meantime, I give in to the premature summer heat.  This morning, I picked spinach and herbs to go with mushrooms from the fresh farm market for breakfast and made a posy of pansies for the altar.  Why leave them in the garden if they will just wilt in the heat?  It was a great afternoon for a siesta and a treat to be out in the city in the morning unencumbered by sweater or jacket.  For my evening practice, I will emphasize deep, cooling forward bends and pranayama.  Will I be ready for the cool days to come back at the end of the week?  I do not think I will have a choice.

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    The Murtis Rearranged Themselves Again

    murtis

    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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