I’ve been going out just at full light, before even most of the workers, to be safe and actually practice physical distancing.
I am realizing just how dependent I am on walkabout, and this next phase is requiring me to find other ways to soothe spirit and best exercise for my body.
I’m blessed to have internal stairs. I’ve been going up and down them a lot.
Just guessing that the bare feet on the bus are not a fashion statement, but a reaction to painful high heels.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
Though there is still snow on the ground, the days are about to be longer than the nights, and my inbox is full of both expensive and discount offers for cleanses of various sorts, and I’m seeing Facebook posts asking about good spring cleanses with all sorts of suggestions in response. If I were a different kind of reader and practitioner, I’d no doubt be beset with explanations and special offers for dieting into a bikini-worthy body. If I were an even different sort of reader, I might be thinking I needed an official spring cleanse, one of the ones that yoga acquaintances say make them feel light or high, etc.
I don’t much believe in cleanses, but I do believe in listening–really paying attention–to my body and emotions and how they relate to the cycle of the seasons. In winter, I tend to gain a few pounds from spending more time inside and eating the heavy, dense food my body wisely craves in winter both for warmth and protection from starvation (granted the latter is not a real threat for the middle-class, but my genetic make-up doesn’t know that). I fully trust that when the days get warmer and lighter and I can spend more time outside walking and spring vegetables and fruit start to show up at the market, I will lose a few pounds.
Before you get too caught up in thinking that to have the body you’re supposed to have (whether it be for looks or some fashion-driven notion of health) you need to go on some formal diet you might not need or spend money having someone tell you what to eat and when (although if you find that works for you, who am I to say no?), why not try noticing whether the change of light and temperature alters your natural cravings (not the ones for junk food or excess sugar or salt)? If you can notice a change in what food attracts you, try honoring the change.
You might find that small portions of kitcheree (lightly spiced rice and lentil porridge), along with plenty of fruits and vegetables (and as spring produce comes in, you’ll find spring vegetables and fruit want less cooking than do winter ones, or perhaps none at all), feels like a nice way to lighten up for several days as the seasons transition. Ssssh! That’s pretty much what’s in a spring cleanse. If you want to make your change of diet feel sanctioned by the yogis add some reading on Ayurveda or mindful eating to invigorate your practice and your dedication to paying loving attention to your body and how it relates to the seasons and the web and cycle of being.
I don’t talk much about my front garden because it is not as exciting for me as the back garden with its edibles and herbs. I give a sincere effort to make the front garden beautiful and welcoming since it is my interface with the neighborhood and all who walk past my house. The front is very shady and two maple trees block the rain and drink most of the water that gets past the leaves, so it has taken some effort to find plants that thrive. Much of what is in my garden comes from other gardening friends. Plants that come from friends near-by are likely to do well moved down the street. As my garden has matured, it has needed divisions, thus giving me an opportunity to share, in turn, with younger friends and neighbors. It thus nourishes in important ways, though it offers nothing to eat.
Last night I went to see the revival of the Bernstein musical version of Voltaire’s Candide, now playing at the Shakespeare Theater’s Harmon Hall (discount tickets available), which was absolutely a delight — fantastic staging and direction, luxurious costuming, enthusiastic performances. Throughout his journey, which is beset with cruelty, hardship, natural disaster, and other mishaps wherever he goes, Candide sings of his tutor’s optimistic advice that “all’s for the best in this best of all possible worlds.” The application of this philosophy leads to some silly results, including the Monty Python-worthy lyric “it’s a great day for an auto da fe.”
I have a friend who, after telling me of various life challenges and griefs, inevitably signs off with the phrase “it’s all good,” though I am not sure she believes it. I thought of her repetition of the phrase “it’s all good,” while I was watching the musical. Later in Candide’s travels, he encounters a second philosopher scholar who (I’m paraphrasing loosely) contradicts the “it’s all for the best” philosophy of Candide’s tutor by telling Candide to just look around and he will know that things are not in fact always for the best. A fluffier version of the debate in the novel, as to whether things are all for the best when there is so much cruelty and devastation, is interwoven into the rest of the play.
I’ve never had a desire to wear the t-shirt proclaiming that “it’s all good.” I look around me, and I simply do not believe it. I do believe wholeheartedly, though, Voltaire’s premise that we have the responsibility to “cultivate our garden.” As my teachers John Friend and Paul Muller-Ortega espouse, we should “respond from the highest,” regardless of what we experience and encounter. By having our response make the best of all possible worlds from things that are not evidently for the best, we bring more light into the world, whatever is our world view. I can only hope that with steady practice of yoga and meditation, I can keep ever truer to these teachings when I am seriously challenged.
