The changes in my neighborhood over the past several years take some getting used to; there are so many new businesses opening up where it was once abandoned and dangerous to walk. This fabulous mural was on my walk to 2nd and M Streets, NE to the new flagship-sized REI at the U-Line building to get new hiking boots. On my extended walk home to break in my new shoes, I bumped into neighbors outside the Atlas Theater.
I post not of the heaviness of my heart, nor of how I am trying to contribute to the persistence and resistance, which I trust are understood, but to notice that in my neighborhood, the tree branches are swelling with incipient budding. Spring still comes.
Last night, at his workshop at Willow Street Yoga, Todd Norian discussed the niyama samtosha — contentment. “Perfect,” I thought, because I had been contemplating the practice of samtosha all day. When I had sat to meditate in the morning yesterday, it was hard for me to stay with my mantra or any sense of peacefulness, light, or delight. Thoughts of the horrendous repercussions of the Supreme Court’s decision on campaign finance kept arising. Time to get back to the foundations of practicing! As I began walking to work (past the Capitol), I brought myself back to the practice of samtosha, which I find one of the most useful practices for me.
Samtosha is the second of the niyamas set forth in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. The yamas and niyamas are ethical precepts for living and for practicing. In Patanjali’s eight-limbed, dualistic path of raja yoga, they precede the practices of asana (the physical postures), pranayama (breathing), and the various stages of meditation, which culminate in samadhi (equinimity or bliss). When I am struggling with what I witness in the outside world, I always come back to the practice of samtosha. Some people may be naturally lighter-hearted than others, but contentment is indeed a practice, and it is a foundational practice.
When I practice contentment, I remember to be grateful for all that I have. When I fully practice contentment, instead of becoming bleak and cynical (it is easy enough for me), I not only feel more naturally cheerful, but find I have have more strength to continue acting in accordance with my beliefs, even when I am confused, alarmed, outraged, and disgusted by what is going on outside. When practicing contentment, I try to find my own light, I seek the love and company of friends, I join with like-minded persons to be moved to work for change, even if I do not trust it will make any visible change to anyone other than me.
FYI, Todd Norian will be at Willow Street Yoga Center all weekend. If you are local and reading this in time, try to come for some of the weekend. He is wonderful.
On my way to and from work, I watched the buds and blooms–some brown, some bravely hanging on, some withering around the edges and starting to wilt; the cherries–mostly in bud or just starting to open–that haven’t fully blasted yet, will do so by the end of the cold period following the storm.
I’ve seen years when the cherry blossoms were torn from the trees at their lushest by a violent storm coming through with a cold front and and years when a spring snow added to the blossoms and years when the blossoms were well before or after the parade. I haven’t seen a year in my over 30 years here, where the blossoms just died from a weirdly early false spring followed by a winter storm with bitter cold. I am sure it is just coincidence and not correlation that this sorry withering of the loveliest part of Washington spring happened this at this particular time.
In the meantime, I am certain that I will need to go out first thing in the morning to shovel and then will need to turn on my computer and go to work. I’m sure I will find the snow (when I am not thinking about the impact on flowering and fruiting perennials), even the shoveling, invigorating and somewhat enjoyable. To provide nourishment that takes into account the extra exercise and how the shoveling time will impact my usual morning routine, tonight after washing up, I put up overnight apple oatmeal. Into the slow cooker went a couple of diced apples, a handful of raisins, steel cut oats, cinnamon, a bit of butter, and a dash of salt. When I wake up, It will smell something like apple crisp, and it will be just the thing to fuel snow shoveling. With the extra, I will make muffins for later in the week.
Far better to do the right thing from a selfish or petty intention than a destructive, wasteful, or cruel thing with the best of intentions.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
