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Creativity

We may not be able to change much of what we get in life–where and when we were born, certain innate talents and physical attributes, but we have the choice at every moment what we will create with what we have been given.

Will we create beauty and happiness where we can?  The point of the yoga practices, I think and have been taught, is to lead us to choose what best serves more and more often.

For example, I cannot create a monumental sculpture if the only art material I have is a point and shoot camera.  I could do nothing but lament my lack of resources, or I can still make art.

What do you choose with what you have?

creativity

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    What a Good Murder Mystery Can Teach Us About Sadhana

    Surely that’s what life was all about?  Opening doors and peering through them–perhaps even finding the rose gardens there… (Colin Dexter, The Dead of Jericho)

    The good murder mysteries — the ones that teach much about human nature and do not dwell graphically on gore and violence — can teach us much about the power of sadhana (yoga practice).  The best mysteries are ones in which the protagonist teaches us by his or her investigation into the mystery that with careful, steady discipline, the application of well-developed technique and study, consistent effort, and an openness to trust intuition tempered by discrimination, we can reveal to ourselves the truth of the matter.  The truth revealed is not just the identity, means, and motive of the murderer (mystery solved), but the knowledge of the extraordinariness of human being in all of its manifestations, both good and evil.

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    Late Spring Greetings–Making Time and Space (Web Version of E-Newsletter)

    Dear Friends,
    I hope you are thriving to the greatest extent possible under your current circumstances in this outrageous Spring and weathering (pun intended) the wild fluctuations between apparent late winter and seemingly already mid-summer.  My garden has been uncertain at several moments, but partly due to careful attention at strategic points and partly out of love and luck, it is thriving–providing lots of herbs and greens and promising lots of tomatoes and peppers and beans.

    I write this letter a bit later than might have been desirable, as the summer session at Willow Street has already started, and my partial sabbatical from yoga teaching evidently has begun.  In practical terms of time and space this is the first time in almost eight years that I am not working weekends (first Saturdays and then Friday evenings) and commuting out to Takoma Park from Capitol Hill to teach.

    It took much contemplation to come to this partial sabbatical. Being a part of the Willow Street Community has been and continues to be important to me, and I have learned an incredible amount from the opportunity Suzie Hurley, and Joe and Natalie Miller, gave me to share my enthusiasm for the practices and the teachings with the fabulous variety of people who come to Willow Street as students.  It was an honor and a continuing source of inspiration and focus to be able to study with so many fine fellow teachers over the years.  And change can be hard for me.  It also is hard to let go of something that has been profoundly important.

    For my optimal health and well being, though, there just was not enough time for me to work full time and go where my heart is currently leading and also continue to teach on Friday nights or Saturday mornings.  I had to make a shift or start fraying around the edges, becoming less happy with everything.  Better to make some space to breath and feel and think without pressure.  Freeing my weekends fully will give me some of the space and time that I need at this crossroad in my life.  I am moving, I hope, towards a phase where there is more emphasis on nurturing self and relationship more deeply and exploring other creative pursuits with more seriousness.   To be able to work intelligently and with good will as a civil servant at this time and to continue to engage in our society that is in so much upheaval, leads me, for my abiding health and expansion, to the garden and the cat and my own practice and the growing and very special relationship that began on the trip to India (no value judgment implied by the order).  It also will be lots easier for me to study; going to a weekend workshop will no longer require my getting a substitute to cover my absence–expect to see me as a fellow student at the Friday nights of weekend workshops at Willow Street.  New ideas and opportunities for teaching will likely come, but not for the moment.

    I continue to lead the all levels yoga practice at William Penn House on Tuesday nights where you will be warmly welcomed by the regulars whatever your age or ability level and will be sure to enjoy the fruits of my new and varied explorations in yoga and other practices, while still keeping to the fundamental structure of class influenced by Anusara methodology.  Please join us.  A portion of each student’s payment supports the work of William Penn House.  While there is a suggested amount, if funds are a challenge, just pay what you can.

    Feel free to e-mail me if you are a more experienced practitioner who is interested in the Wednesday night practice or if you are interested in arranging private sessions or semi-private practices with your own small group.

    I look forward to seeing those of you who are local on a Tuesday night or at a workshop around town or in the neighborhood and also continuing to share photos and contemplations on this latest phase of my yogic (yes, I know that isn’t a real word) on the blog.

    Peace and light,

    Elizabeth

    clouds

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    “Magic Carpet Ride”

    As I was hefting my heavy day pack over my shoulder to get ready to leave for the airport, I said to my roommate for the week, “now is the time I wish I could just take a magic carpet ride.”

    “It would be pretty windy,” he replied.

    What I wanted from the magic carpet ride was not to have to sit in traffic to get to the airport or deal with the security check in and boarding and potential delays, etc.  The fact that the plane can get me from one climate to another in two hours is pretty magical.

    I decided to play “Magic Carpet Ride” on my ipod while I was waiting for my flight to send it magic carpet ride energy–on time boarding, no problems with the plane, a smooth and comfortable ride, which it turned out to be.  Usually I listen to quiet music or recorded teleseminars for my studies with Paul Muller-Ortega when I am traveling.  Yesterday, I decided to see what ipod’s “genius” function would come up with following “Magic Carpet Ride.”  First came something by the Clash, not a bad segue. I wasn’t sure that fit my mood, but decided I would go with it until the plane took off.

    To my shock, because one would expect a series of rock and roll songs, the next track was an invocation to Lakshmi–kind of rocked out, but still, not what I would have expected.  That was followed by a series of chants to Siva intermixed with three different versions of the maha mrityunjaya mantra.  “Ah,” I thought, “genius knows I have been practicing yoga all week and then celebrating mahasivaratri.  How very extraordinary sometimes the interplay of the subtle energies and technology!”

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    Outrageous Light (and Sadhana)

    I just spent a week looking at the celestial realms — inner and outer.  Fifty of us spent a week meditating and studying with Paul Muller-Ortega at a retreat center in Sedona.  It might seem from these pictures that there was not a moment when we weren’t exclaiming in awe over magnificent visions.  The truth is that many times of the day, the sky was not spectacular, but I was always looking and always had my camera in my pocket, whether the sky was dull or flat when I left my room or whether it was engaged in some outrageous display of light.  The photographs below are in chronological order to show the pulsation of night and day, the progression of the moon from almost full to full, the shift in mood from day to day.  But, the images show a completely edited view.  There were the views for which I did not take out my camera at all.  Those were the majority, but I was still looking.  There were the views I photographed, but deleted from the camera memory, choosing not even to save them.  There are the photographs that I downloaded onto my computer, but did not even enlarge to get a better view.  There are photographs I enlarged, but decided not to edit.  Then there were the photographs I chose to edit by making decisions about cropping, brightness, contrast, hue, and saturation.  The photos below are a subset of the last group.

    If I were doing a show where I printed and framed the work, I would have worked from at least ten times as many images and would have done multiple prints of each image before choosing what to display.  In this persistency and discrimination, photography teaches much about meditation practice.  To show what is seen in a way that shifts the soul of the viewer, the photographer has to look over and over again.  For example, Robert Frank took over 20,000 images for “The Americans.”

    Anyone (especially these days with the technology available) can take an extraordinary picture or two if in the right place at the right time with the camera.  But to have a body of work takes consistent devotion, work, and presence.  So too, with our meditation practice.  Some days exquisite visions arise.  Sometimes we are pulsing with extraordinary energy that fills us with a sense of the very fullness of being.  Other times, old issues or the to do list or even feeling trapped by sitting still is what comes.  If we sit consistently over a long period of time, though, we will witness — just as the camera did — the extraordinary.  We will know from being consistent that it is our very consistency that reveals bliss.

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