Siva and Bells


Ten years ago today I was in Peru”s sacred valley. I was walking the spiral meditation garden at the retreat center where I was staying when the owner called out to me, “America has been attacked! The others said you would want to know, that we should not wait until you were done with your meditation.” Completely shocked by this summons, I left the spiral by walking across it and followed her into her private home to see the news on CNN via satellite. I felt incredibly, intensely far from home, especially since by mere happenstance none of my fellow travelers were Americans.
Today, I am again thousands of miles from home, having flown on United from Dulles airport to San Francisco, though obviously, California is not nearly as far away from many perspectives. As with my journey to Peru, my trip to California this week is partly to serve my continuing inner journey, partly outward exploration and appreciation, and partly birthday celebration (not on the 11th).
One of the things that was so remarkable about the immediate aftermath of 9/11 witnessed from abroad was how friendly and sympathetic people were who otherwise were not disposed to think kindly of Americans. What an opportunity we had as a country to embrace global unity. What a chance we missed by instead going guns blazing into these obscene wars. We now have to live wih what we have done and start fresh. What can we do to seek peace now? I am working hard from a personal perspective, and I am much more at peace with myself than I was 10 years ago. I have a friend who would tell me that I am only responsible for myself and not for the whole of society, but I wish I could come up with a great and global workable plan of action that would move us towards peace and away from war, but I have not found one yet. In the meantime I will try my best on a personal level because that I can do.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Here’s an aerial view of the back garden on the equinox after I spent several hours cleaning, deadheading, repotting, mulching, etc. As you can see, the moss is ecstatic from having had the weight of the snow on it for several weeks. Coming up in quantities almost enough to pick are lettuce, spinach, cilantro, parsley, chives, onions, lemon balm (always have too much of that — if you’re local let me know if you want some). The first rosebud emerged sometime between Friday and Sunday. It is hard to believe that just a month ago, I was blogging about indoor gardening — how to find delight even when snowed under (scroll to the bottom of the linked post to compare pictures of the same view).
As you can see from comparing the two photos, things were still growing under the snow or getting ready to do so. That is what practice is like for me. Sometimes I feel completely snowed under by an injury or rush jobs at work or personal circumstances beyond my control. I keep practicing, but I don’t have the time or energy for long practices or full weekend workshops, when it is easy to get to a place of delight. Other times, things are less pressured, and I feel brimming over with health. Then practice feels wildly effulgent. For my garden to offer its full potential (as is true with my practice), I need to spend lots of time and effort in it for the next several weeks. I know that if I do so, I will be blessed with fullness.
I went down to the White House and joined a prayer vigil for ceasefire and disarmament in the Middle East led by the Franciscan Action Network. Another group was beginning a march on front of the World Bank, pointing out the conflation of oil and gas dependence, continued bombing, and ecocide. Such action is bhakti (spiritual devotion), not empty prayers combined with a niceness that passively allows the status quo.
How are you living your faith?

What do you see when you look at this picture? What would you have thought if you had come upon a mass of seaweed and jelly fish, having dressed in a bathing suit for a morning plunge into the ocean while on vacation?
Both my yoga teacher John Friend and my meditation and philosophy teacher Paul Muller-Ortega teach that we want to respond in the highest, to seek always to see the good and to respond from that seeing.
I found myself thinking about this morning when I saw dozens of jelly fish on the shore and contemplating a conversation I had yesterday about the topic with a fellow student.
For some, the t-shirt adage “it’s all good” may really ring true. Most every day is naturally bubbly and bright and difficulties or a need to shift or change to find better alignment is not of much importance. I am not naturally effervescent with bliss, though I find a deep and abiding and growing joy in life that comes from a combination of discrimination (viveka) and appreciation for the wonder and complexity of life.
Some may just not notice the jelly fish and just see the sun glinting on the waves, plunging in to swim with delight, not caring much that it resulted in itching or stinging from the jelly fish. The itching and stinging are just minor irritations that wouldn’t change the joy of the day. That’s a great way to live, but not all of us are by nature that care free.
For those of us who see the jelly fish and know that swimming with them can cause potentially significant discomfort, we have two choices: we can get all bummed out that a care free swim in the ocean is not going to happen. That is not responding in the highest. We can also look at what beautiful and amazing creatures are jelly fish, look down at our feet as well as up at the ocean and the sky so that we don’t step on any (walk with discrimination), and then choose to swim in the pool.
Responding in the highest and looking for the good is not the same as being blind to pain and difficulties. It is how we choose to react and our align ourselves within a world that presents both opportunities for delight and for challenge and pain. Responding in the highest is not being oblivious to pain, but rather, choosing not to suffer or cling to disappointment in the face of inevitable pain or difficulty.