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    Sunchokes (and Anusara “first principle”) (a bit out of date, but not really)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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    Being a good guest (why not to drink bottled water)

    In The Yoga of Discipline, Swami Chidvilasananda says that we should eat in such a way that the earth is happy to have us as a guest.  (See Thanksgiving blog).  As I get ready for the holiday season — a time of being a guest and receiving guests — I continue to contemplate this exhortation.  We’ve all had the house guests who seem to ravage our homes and our larders without any apparent appreciation for our hospitality, leaving us exhausted after they are gone.  We have other guests, who make us feel gracious, whose way of relating to our home and our hospitality makes us want to invite them in further and helps us enjoy our own home and food more.

    My favorite guest is the one who makes herself at home, helps herself, and is delighted with offers of specially prepared meals or touches to the guest room.  The ones who invade private spaces and make a mess and, on the opposite side, those who tiptoe around and refuse nearly every attempt to make the visit special, are equally difficult.

    How can we be a good guest of the earth?  Not only should we be grateful for what we are given, but we should not take more than is offered from the heart.  Here’s a practical example:  it takes about 60 ounces of water to bring you a 20 ounce plastic bottle of water.  The earth cheerfully offers the 20 ounces of water as nourishment.  Taking the 60 ounces, when 40 ounces is waste and destruction and only 20 ounces is for nourishment, is like being the kind of guest that exhausts you rather than enriches you by honoring your hospitality.  I’d love to hear other practical examples from you about how to be a more gracious guest of the earth.

  • Becky Agitated (by minor disruption)

    I am having my bedroom painted over the holiday break.  Yesterday, I took all of the pictures off of the walls, moved most of the other furniture into other rooms, and rolled up the rugs in the hallways.  The room is in the middle of the plastering and sanding stage and is filled with the painter’s tools, and so, the door is shut.

    Becky only has two places she likes to be for most of the day:  on the bed in the bedroom and on the sofa in the living room.  When I meditate in the morning and then write in my journal, I sit in the living room.  I used to try to sit in the yoga studio, but after her sister passed away, Becky howled until I sat in the living room with her.  Becky now will fetch me to the living room if I do not go to meditate right after I have fed her.  This morning, she woke me up early because the bed was not in the right place, and she was not happy that the bedroom door was closed.  When I went to sit after feeding her, she stomped back and forth, instead of coming to sit with me.  When at first I did not pay attention to her, she got more agitated.  I finally got up to check on her.  She raced up the stairs to be outside the shut bedroom door.  I picked her up and brought her back to the living room to sit with me.  I pet her until she relaxed.  Once she had been shown that her morning sitting place was still there, I was able to sit in meditation without disturbance for 25 minutes.

    Our own minds are like that.  If there has been a disturbance in our routine that ripples our mind waves, whether it is celebration or upset, small or large, it can feel very challenging to meditate.  If our thoughts continue to be in a whirl while we are sitting, we need to just bring our thoughts back to the mind space of meditation over and over again, just as I had to remind Becky our sitting place was still undisturbed even though her daytime sleep spot was disrupted.  The more we practice, the easier it becomes to shift to an inner place of peace and light.  The less often we allow changes in routine to disrupt our practice, the stronger we become in the face of challenges.

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