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Sadness (Sukha hara, dukha hara)
Last night I was feeling deeply sad not having Becky with me any more. The first week, I was telling myself how lucky I was to have had her for so long, that she lived a long, happy, well-loved life, and that it was truly time. Then I threw myself into work, errands, the garden, etc. This week, I have been filled with a deep sense of grief and loss.
Classical yoga would have us try to transcend the pair of opposites — pleasure and pain. Tantra would have us experience the full range deeply, knowing it is all part of the play of being manifest in human form. I have been thinking about my teacher, John Friend, who often talks of the intensity of grieving for loved ones who have died, because of having loved truly and fully.
Thinking about Becky, this chant started repeating itself in my head (I have it recorded by Dave Stringer): “sukha hara, dukha hara, hara, hara Shankara.” “Hara” is an epithet of Shiva, from the root word to bear away or destroy. “Sukha” means ease; “dukha” pain. “Shankara” is another epithet of Shiva in benevolent form. I think of this chant not so much a call to have Shiva energy destroy or remove both pleasure and pain, but rather a reminder that both pleasure and pain are integral parts of our experience of being. Recognizing that grief and loss are as much part of our own humanity as love and pleasure, helps remind me of my own connection to spirit. It ultimately inspires me to try and live in a way that is more benevolent and generous, and to respond with the most light, whatever I face. (This of course is a life work).
I would not give up the full and wonderful years of companionship I had with Becky and her sister Henrietta (and others who I have loved) just to avoid the grief of loss.
What’s Blooming Inside Right Now for Me (is it “forcing” or inviting?)
I’ve been living with blooms from bulbs since just before Christmas. The amaryllis in the vase is the third bloom from a bulb I bought at the beginning of January; the third stem got too tall, so I put it in a vase, so it would not topple over. The orchid I have had since it was about half this size and have been tending it by bringing inside and out with the seasons for over a decade. It has bloomed every February without fail. The paperwhites were a gift. I enjoy a little of the scent, but find the usual presentation of several flowers simultaneously overwhelming. I have brought them to flower one at a time. As soon as the bulb flowers (and inevitably needs to be propped up somehow), I have cut the flowers to put in a vase and started the next bulb. By the time the flowers in the vase have faded, the next bulb is budding.
The cherry blossoms — this is why I dreamed of cherries blossoming; I had them in my bedroom. In a previous post, I showed the nearly bare branches from a tree that had fallen in the blizzard. Although gardeners would call bringing the branches inside “forcing,” I wonder whether I really “forced” these blooms. What I did was take branches that would have gone to a landfill, brought them into an auspicious environment and invited them to bloom. This seems to me, not unlike using props in yoga: I might not be able to experience the full opening of a pose myself, but if I properly use props, I can expand what I can experience. It is not the same as doing it on my own, but it still gives me a different sense of the beauty that can be experienced, just like bringing in branches that otherwise would have fallen or need to be pruned into the house to reveal their glory in advance of the spring blooming outside.
The last photo is of dogwood and cherry that were on the side of the street two days ago (cherry tree down at the Japanese War Memorial); dogwood in a pile on the north side of the street in the 300 or 400 block of D Street, NE. Start your own blooms, there is more winter in the forecast. I am fairly certain from my previous experiment that the cherries will start blooming in a couple of weeks, but it remains to be seen whether the dogwood will want to open.
Signs Around Town
It is times like these where the importance of one’s personal home practices is emphasized.

Sometimes When It Seems As Though I Don’t Have Much to Say
it is because I have too much to say. I am thinking about many things, deeply and all at once. When I write in my journal, unexpected thoughts emerge from some depths. At this stage, the thoughts are for myself. Then some might be for sharing with the friend or colleague who would be interested in engaging in the dialogue that could follow from the idea.
Later, one thought path will capture me enough to invite me to follow though with it–to get down the words, to refine, to research, to read, to confirm, to affirm, to polish.








