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It is my understanding that unless I wear a sari, I will not be able to go into some of the places that are on the itinerary for the trip to India I will be joining. “Just think of it as playing dress-up,” suggested my sister when I told her the idea of wearing a sari perturbs me. It is not just feeling strange in foreign dress and having to expose that vulnerable fold of flesh at the waist (I have never even owned a bikini because of my discomfort in exposing my waist). What is unsettling me is that to witness what the men can witness while wearing comfortable clothing, the women must agree to wear confining, complicated, and cumbersome clothes. And the sari has come for centuries with the expectation that the woman demurely follows behind doing what she is told by the designated man.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
A neighbor who lives in the top floor of the building across the street, and thus has a spectacular view of the maples in front of my house writes:
“The buds on your tree are more numerous than yesterday, and more visibly that color that Joni Mitchell sang about: “just a little green, like the color when the spring is born...” And we’re getting a good, soaking rain. Happy Spring!”
I have heard the song so many times, I do not need to look it up, except to share both with those for whom it is not part of an intimate map of a long ago period and with those for whom it is and who will have, by just seeing the words (and even more so by listening), some upsurge of memories and a revelation of the miraculous play of consciousness.
One of the most profound and essential teachings of the great yogis is to “watch the gap.” We are given the practice of watching the gap, the space, the pause, the turning point between the in breath and the out breath, the out breath and the in breath. In the gap, we are able to witness perfect fullness (purna) and perfect emptiness (sunyata). In minding the gap, we can experience perfect stillness and serenity. It is an extraordinary practice in its simplicity and in its gift of peace and repose.
Whether you have never heard of this practice, learned it at some point but have mostly forgotten about it, or just did it with your own practice, I invite you to take a few minutes on reading this: make your seat steady and as comfortable as possible, close your eyes, invite an intention of finding a still spaciousness in your heart. Draw your attention to the breath and start to notice the space (maybe almost instantaneous and unobservable, maybe a real pause) between the in and out breaths.
If you are moved, comment on your experience to share with each other. There is no one right reaction nor a wrong one. If it was challenging to sit still and focus, just be gentle and soften to how enjoyable it can be to do nothing other than watch the breath, like the sweet and easy restfulness of watching the movement of waves at the beach.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.