I am planning to be unwired for the next couple of weeks, though if there is an opportunity for a wireless connection or to use hotel internet, I may check emails. I will be in touch when I go back on-line. In the meantime, this is to wish you the best of holidays.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I will be leading my gentle/therapeutics class at Willow Street, Takoma Park (All Restoratives in honor of Suzie Hurley’s tradition of ending each session with restorative poses and hope to see many of you–drop-ins and make-ups welcome), but for those of you looking for something more outdoors and downtown and active, my friend and fellow DC contact improv jammer has sent the following invite:
Friday, when I was traveling through New York City on my way home from a business trip, I detoured to the Metropolitan to see the Walker Evans’ postcards and the Bonnard, Late Interiors. The curator chose this quote to inform the viewing of the paintings: “Material concerns and worries about the future are troubling me a lot, and I’m afraid that painting may abandon me because of a lack of mental freedom.” Pierre Bonnard to Henri Matisse, September 1940.
The quote made me think of the yoga principles of ardha, kama, dharma, moksha. In classical yoga, in order to reach liberation (moksha), we need to have our material life — how we eat, consume, dwell, etc. (ardha), our love and relationships (kama), and our work/life path (dharma), in right order. From a tantric perspective, when ardha, kama, and dharma are aligned so that mind, body, and spirit are united in our day to day being, then we are living liberated — jivan mukti (moksha).
In 1940, the Nazis were growing in power and World War II was impending. Bonnard had lost his love, Marthe, was ill and aging, and was in some financial difficulty. He was afraid of losing his vision, his creativity (dare I interpret “painting may abandon me” as “loss of connection to spirit”) because ardha and kama were out of alignment. The late paintings carry a sense of yearning of spirit — perhaps because of the consciousness that struggling physically and emotionally challenges our ability to truly see, to feel connected to spirit. The paintings are lovely with color and light. The subject matter makes them accessible at a surface level. Shadowy figures and ambiguities, though, give a sense of longing and seeking. Although there is a certain basic prettiness because of the color and the subject matter, they are not comfort paintings. They invite one to think about whether color is enough, whether home is enough, what we need to be in a place where we can rest at one with ourselves.
Walking has always been my preferred form of getting from one place to another; if time and distance require it, I intersperse a lift from bus, metro, or taxi on one end or in the middle of a walk. All I really wanted to do with my time off–I don’t have to go to the office or teach class until January 3rd–is to walk and practice and visit with friends and family and look at art and cook and read and study and eat and play with the cats and write and photograph and dance (an open-ended term) and maybe knit or draw. For me, walking is walking in itself; time to practice bhavana — deep contemplation; time to practice japa–repetition of mantra; opportunity to open the mind and senses to allow the flourishing of creative projects–mostly writing and photography; a way of going from one place to another for shopping, working, visiting, etc; and sometimes an activity to share with friends. And of course walking to get food is wonderful both for stimulating the appetite and for aiding digestion.
Yesterday, we were given 90 minutes of administrative leave. On leaving the office at 3:30, I walked west from my building to the last Thursday until spring of the Penn Quarter Farmer’s Market. I didn’t really need anything, but wanted to support the farmers who were braving the cold, so I bought a wild oyster to eat while I stood there and a bag of arugula and a few apples and pears. From there I walked back east, traversing the Capitol grounds to East Capitol Street and stopped in and browsed at Capitol Hill Books. It was turning dark when I walked east into Lincoln Park before turning north to go home.
In less than an hour, a good friend will arrive at the door in her walking shoes. We are going to head out on foot to the Mall to talk and to look at art and to share a meal in Penn Quarter or back on the Hill. Later in the day, I will walk along the bus route to Dupont or walk to the metro to go to a Christmas Eve potluck dinner at Friends Meeting of Washington.
Tomorrow, Christmas Day, I will celebrate Christmas in the manner of New York Jews (Chinese food and a movie). After walking through Lincoln Park and down Kentucky Avenue SE (where are some of the most beautiful trees in the neighborhood) to get a massage, I’ll walk to the U.S. Botanical Gardens to meet a friend I have known since third grade who is town with some of her NY friends for the holidays. We will probably walk up to Chinatown after that. Then I’ll go see a movie. Whether I walk or take the bus will depend on whether it is dark by the time the movie lets out.
On Boxing Day, I will go to Georgetown to volunteer at the Lantern Bookshop. I will walk some of the way and take the bus the rest of the way. The length of the walk will depend on the amount of time I spend making breakfast, caring for plants and cats and house, and writing. How much of the return trip ends up being on foot will depend on how many books I decide to take home from the Lantern. Sometimes I only get one or two.
Is a mark of privilege. I know that and give from there.
When I go back to work tomorrow, people will ask me whether I did anything “fun” over the Labor Day Weekend, just as before the weekend I was asked it I had anything “fun” planned. At recent gatherings where I have bumped into people I haven’t seen in a while, all the questions have been about whether I did anything exciting this summer. I have been pondering these questions and what they say about how we structure our lives. For me, the seasons change based on what I cook and eat, how I dress, and to some degree, when I sleep (more at night when it is cold and dark; more afternoon naps when it is overly hot and bright), but I both work and take breaks throughout the year, so summer did not bring anything more or less exciting than usual.
I am acutely aware that part of the reason I have the luxury to live in accordance with the seasons is that I am not on a school schedule, and I have a job that allows me a little flexibility in terms on when to take breaks and when I come and go on any given day. I also realize that I have blurred the difference between work and “fun.” I have had a most enjoyable Labor Day weekend, but some would think much of it has been work: I taught two classes; I gardened; I cooked; I’ve done some housecleaning; I am writing this blog entry, etc. As I took pleasure in all of these activities, I think of it as having had fun, even though everything I did was something someone could have been doing as “work.” I think that when we take pleasure in our work, we are less in need of grasping at “fun” and can find more joy in the leisure activities that are more usually labeled as “fun.”
I hope whatever you have been doing, whether working or playing, you are enjoying the day, and can take a few moments to reflect on those who fought long and hard for ordinary workers to be able to have the time to play in between working.
