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A Trend Worth Adopting

When I was a kid, my friend who lived next door and I would use small pieces of slate to draw hopscotch boards and such on the pavement.

In recent years, more and more of my Hill neighbors have been decorating the sidewalks with chalk drawings–mostly done by children.

In south India, many of the thresholds were decorated with beautiful designs made with chalk or colored powder, and I kept thinking how delightful it would be if we engaged in that practice here.

It is on my wish/to do list to get some chalk to draw some welcoming decorations of my own on the sidewalk in front of my house.

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

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    Simulcast, Drama, and Perception

    Last night I went to see the National Theater UK’s  simulcast (tape-delayed) of Helen Mirren performing in Ted Hughes’ translation of Racine’s Phedre at the Shakespeare Theater.  The tragedy of Phedre is misinformation, misguided helpers, and passion that has gone beyond sweet engagement to maddened attachment.

    A stage production is intimate and designed for the small audience of those present in the theater.  When it is merely filmed (instead of being turned into a movie), it sometimes feels forced because it is watching a film of a stage production, instead of being invited in as one is when one is either at the stage production or the filming is done as a movie, which is designed to include the viewer in a manner for the film.

    What was hard about watching the filming of the stage production, was being forced to have the camera’s and director’s perspective; there was no ability to turn my head and shift which part of the stage to give my attention.  At the same time, I felt appreciative of the miraculous offerings of technology:  the filming made something that is usually limited to those who can afford theater of that extraordinary quality and who are able to be in a certain place at a certain time available to tens of thousands around the globe, including me and my friend.  In that way, the filming both took away the intimacy of being physically present, but simultaneously created a unifying experience for a much bigger group of people.

    I was inspired to think about the limitations and differences among the perceptions of the characters, of the critics (talking about the play and the film), of the smaller, elite audience (the actual theater goers’ — I’ve been at that theater in London), of the technologically broadened audience, and of mine in response to the essence of the tragedy, the story and substance of the play, the delivery of the play, and my own life as informed by the play.

    It seems an interesting lesson on many levels on how we can choose to live with our passions, how we can react to limits and changes in our ability to perceive our own selves and the world around us, and on how and what we invite in through the doors of our perception.

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    Loops and Spirals and the Still Point at the Center (NYC, Vt, Long Island, DC)

    My trip to the Anusara Grand Gathering was some loop of a trip, spiraling and pulsing between urban and rural, quiet time and enthusiastic gathering, old places and new scenery.  Last Saturday, I took a morning train to Manhattan, where I went to the Rubin Museum–one of my favorite spaces in the City, walked to see the Ai Weiwei sculptures in front of the Plaza, and ate good food.  On Sunday morning, I got back on the train, this time heading north to Saratoga Springs.  Just north of Croton-on-Hudson, I saw soaring over the river a raptor with an enormous wing span, white head, and brown body and wings — most likely a bald eagle.

    My friend Suzanne picked me up at the Amtrak Station in Saratoga Springs.  We went back to her house for lunch.  Before driving to Stratton Mountain for the Anusara Grand Gathering, she showed me her studio, which is a wonderful space; I look forward to visiting again.  And then we were in Vermont with John Friend, the scholars, the certified teachers leading the break out sessions and assisting, the musicians, the outdoor art, and a few hundred committed yogis.  (See previous four posts for my thoughts o the Grand Gathering).

    On Wednesday afternoon, I rode back to New York with a fellow yogi and teacher I have long admired.  I decided on pure impulse, since we were getting to the City a couple of hours early, to visit my parents.  We were able to spend the evening and morning talking, and then my mother and I went to Old Westbury Gardens (check out the new Facebook profile picture my mother took in the rose garden on my personal page and please “like” my public page, if you haven’t already).

    I caught the Long Island Railroad to Penn Station and then Amtrak back to DC.  The next morning (Friday), I worked a full day, returning to quite a slew of emails.  In the evening I had a massage and went into the garden to reground myself.  Went up to Takoma on Saturday to teach, circling immediately back into the rhythm of home.

    The photo montage below gives an idea of the wide variety and quantity of input into mind and senses.  There was actually much quiet time in this whirlwind.  I spent all the time on the train listening to teleseminars, studying, writing in my journal, watching the scenery, contemplating, and napping.  More important than the quiet space of the train rides, every day of the trip, I sat, as I do each day wherever I am, for meditation morning and evening.  While on the road, my meditation gave me a space that was home; when I came home, it helped get me settled and able to carry forward the openings and shifts from going on vacation into my at home routine.

    A steady practice gives us a still point, a space that stays steady and nourishing.  The more consistent we are, the easier it is to access this space (hridaya), no matter how much life seems to whirl and spiral around us.

     

     

    Photos are in order of travel:  Manhattan, Upstate New York, Vermont, Anusara Grand Gathering, Old Westbury Gardens, points on route, and back home with offerings from the garden on my kitchen counter (welcome home).

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