Peace and Safety for All
I don’t think that invocations and prayers alone are sufficient, and I believe they can support the emotional wherewithal for right action for those who are doing both.

I don’t think that invocations and prayers alone are sufficient, and I believe they can support the emotional wherewithal for right action for those who are doing both.

When I came out of my afternoon asana practice and meditation, I picked up the John Friend Teacher Training Manual to look up one of my favorite passages. In describing the “attitude” that brings us to our deepest practice, John Friend writes that there are two reasons to practice yoga: “1. Co-create in the art of life. 2. Realize and awaken to our divine nature.” John Friend, Anusara Yoga Teacher Training Manual (9th Ed., Anusara Press 2006). He explains that sometimes we come to our mat because we are happy and we want to celebrate. Other times, we are sad or confused and we want to remember our essentially divine, blissful nature. This particular teaching has continues to resonate for me. I find great comfort in it because it recognizes that we do forget; we will not always act perfectly. All life, though, is part of our practice, and we can keep trying to co-create and remember the light in all beings in our daily lifes just as we keep can coming to the mat.
It may feel gloomy for walking around, but those of us inside the beltway really need the rain, so I am pretty happy about the dank weather. Yes, those are turnips, arugula, parsley, chard, and kale (though I have no intention of going outside today to get some; I have some lovely Savoy cabbage inside and a yoga class to go teach).
May the long light of the solstice illuminate wisdom and compassion.

Quakers speak of allowing the way to open, Buddhists of resting in a space of not knowing.
Today I turned in my federal ID, computer, and keys, after over 30 years as a civil servant. What a privilege to be able to allow myself the freedom not to have made any significant plans for what comes next. After all those decades of focused work, to rest in the spaciousness of not knowing.
A friend whom I first met through work came and shared a meal and helped make the day festive.
