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    Chance of Showers?

    There might have been a violent thunderstorm here or there (completely missed my neighborhood), but things are desperately dry in the Washington area. Please conserve water (turn it off while lathering soap on hair and body, brushing teeth, shaving, etc). Don’t wash pavement or cars. Definitely water trees really well once a week.

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

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    A Glimpse

    On the way to Madhuban, we caught a rare glimpse of Trishula and Nanda Devi. It is usually too misty to see them from where we were staying, and they were not visible when we were on the drive back to Delhi.

    In a few hours, I head to the airport for the long ride home, having bathed in the beauty of music and mountains, with, I hope, fresh perspective for the work ahead.

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    A Long Day

    I left the house this morning around 7:30 to go up and teach my regular classes at Willow Street, Takoma Park.  In the afternoon, I led a restorative workshop.  It was delightful to be with two dozen yogis who decided the best way to spend the last Saturday in July was to take a mini-break from the heat and the bustle resting deeply and exploring inside.  I felt wonderfully supported, having had amazing assistants, an excellent work-study helping at the desk and with clean-up afterward, and truly enthusiastic students.  I could not have asked for more, especially given how long a day it was following an intense return to work immediately upon traveling back from the retreat with Paul Muller-Ortega all in the same week.  After the workshop, I went out for an early dinner at Woodlands (Indian food) with a friend who had taken the workshop.

    When I got home, feeling ready to do my  own deep relaxation, I found tall ladders leading up to the roof.  I had been warned by the project manager for the solar panel installation that I am having done that the roofer who was working on putting up the parapet structure to hold the frame might be here today.  I hadn’t expected the roofer to be here at 7:30 pm, though.  As long a week and day as I might have felt that I had, these guys, whom I am sure worked hard outside all week in the heat, were really having a long day.

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    Approaching Samhain

    The space between the spheres thins and the wind creates passageways.

    The spirits are outraged; how could they be otherwise?  Their dance tramples

    And blows things down, but still cannot help but create beauty.

    The leaves–green, red, gold, brown from the drought, that distant memory–

    Hang listlessly with the weight of rain and a bit of slush

    Hardly even dancing in the wind, but still becoming perhaps

    More  extravagantly lovely by the  storm’s grey light.

     

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    Sunchokes (and Anusara “first principle”) (a bit out of date, but not really)

    I realize that this blog entry was in my drafts page; I never hit the publish button.  As I ponder the few intervening weeks of snow (in some ways it feels as if time just stopped, except for the work that piled up and the lengthening of the light of day), I treat this as a reminder to myself to come back to “first principle” to respond with the most light — even in this unusually harsh winter:

    On my way to Friends Meeting yesterday, I stopped at the Dupont Circle Fresh Farm Market yesterday to buy whatever was fresh.  When I got in line with a daikon radish, a bunch of turnips, and a couple of leeks, I noticed the way the woman in front of me in line was holding her selection:  sunchokes.  Her hands were held as if she had just received prasad — the offering sometimes made after a puja so that the fruits of worship may actually be tasted and injested, incorporated with our senses and our whole bodies into our being.  “Your hands and those sunchokes are so beautiful,” I said, “may I take a picture and use it for my blog?”  “Sure,” she replied, “and shifted her hands a little so that it would be easier for me to frame the picture.”  We talked while we waited in line about potential ways to cook sunchokes and how happy we were that the farmers (these particular farmers’ must be incredibly good at working with cold frames) were out all year.

    Seeing this offering of the earth itself, the farmers who tended the earth and grew the vegetables, the workers who made and repaired the vehicles that enabled the food to be brought into the city, the city and neighborhood for allowing the market to block off a street, the shoppers for supporting it, brought me back to my contemplations this week of what “first principle” means to me.  I mentioned in an earlier post that my focus for winter classes would be Anusara sequencing principles.  No matter what else we are doing or focusing on, it always starts with “first principle.”  The “first principle” is what we call in Anusara “opening to grace.”  For me, a large part of “opening to grace” is a recognition that all the nourishment we receive is a gift.  When we practice such a recognition, then we practice receptivity, openness, gratitude, courtesy, respect, delicacy, and reciprocal desire to serve and make offering.  How could one mindfully receive nourishment such as this fresh, beautiful food on a bitterly cold winter day, and not want to celebrate it by giving thanks, nurturing the earth, supporting the farmers and the market, learning how to prepare it as tasty and healthful as possible, and share it and other things with those around us?

    gift

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