On the Way from Work to Spanish Class


I have a small tree in a pot; it will never grow large enough to fruit with exuberant superabundance. I will have a few precious opportunities to taste a sun-warmed fig right from the tree. My tree will also serve as a personal barometer, telling me whether this year’s weather is optimal for figs or not so much.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
This murti of Nataraja has been in the window of a store near where I work for at least 20 years. I often walk past is and just as often stop to admire it. I have never really considered taking it home, lovely as it is. The murti is simply too large for any of my rooms. I have mentioned its needing a home to a couple of different friends, who were looking for large murtis of Nataraja, over the past few months, but none have followed through.
Today, when I was walking past it on a lunchtime walk to the bank, I noticed a “commercial property for rent” sign in the window. I will miss having this resplendent image in my work neighborhood, but not enough to buy it and bring it home. I decided, though, to take a photograph. I know the owner only very casually, but well enough to know he is retiring, rather than being driven out by rising rental costs or the recession. The neighborhood has gotten trendier since Nataraja first appeared in the window. Nataraja might be replaced with a delicious restaurant or a fabulous store purveying things that entice me. Or the space could stay vacant or be used for something that holds no interest for me whatsoever.
Nataraja–lord of the dance of concealment and revelation, of dissolution and manifestation–is dancing here. The murti will be sold or transported away when the shop closes and will physically be gone.
I will have my memories of the image, a photograph I took with my BlackBerry, and will have had a sweet opportunity to observe the lord of the dance dancing away his own image.
My boss with whom I’ve worked for over 20 years and who has an unfortunate tendency to get agitated (gentle understatement here) at the workplace has just discovered Thich Nhat Hanh. My boss was intrigued by Thich Nhat Hanh’s suggestion that when you find yourself getting angry, “don’t.” Knowing that he is still going to have to take action in response to the things that tick him off (and, as I would add, that not getting angry is distinct from disengaging, failing to act, or being apathetic), my boss still invited us to say to him when we see him getting worked up, “remember Thich Nhat Hanh.” I liked that. I like that he recognizes a need to change and grow and is starting to take steps after years of appearing not to be aware of the impact of his tendencies on himself and his co-workers.
One of the best ways I know to shift our reactiveness is to develop a steady meditation practice. If you don’t already have one, I invite you to begin to develop a daily meditation practice, which could include conscious breathing or visualizations. If your practice is only sporadic, notice how much better it is when your meditation is part of your daily routine.