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Found Exhortation
Part of householder yoga, for me, is trying to be mindful of what and how much I consume. It may be a small thing in the grand scheme of things, but it is something I can do and the more of us who do it, the more influence we have.

The Triangle Player
Yesterday, while watching the Capitol City Symphony and Capitol Hill Chorale’s joint performance of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony at the Atlas Theater, I noticed with some amusement the cymbol player reading a novel in the wings through the first three movements. (The triangle player appeared just in time for the fourth movement).
This reminded me of an anecdote John Friend told at the Anusara Certified Teachers’ Gathering in Denver the other week to illustrate the importance of every person and element to the whole. He spoke of the triangle player. What do you say to him after the show, John asked, “great job man; I love the way you came in right when you were supposed to?” Even if showing up and playing one beat at the right time is the triangle player’s only job, the triangle player still is an integral part of the composition, though perhaps not as evidently crucial as the first violinist.
We may not know how we are essential or how we will shift things, but we should always revere and recognize each and every being, including ourselves, as part of the web of existence.
Outside the Federal Courthouse at Lunchtime
“Sometimes,” said the woman in red sitting outside the courthouse.
“Sometimes you gotta,” she said to her co-workers, the red jersey
Of her dress clinging to her ample curves while she kicked
The granite ledge where she sat amidst a din of everyone talking
At every one else, not listening, some smoking, but not eating, on a break
Of some kind. Maybe they were jurors not court staff or perhaps visitors.
Funny that they didn’t have some kind of badge, all of them talking.
All of them talking and looking like they did the same type of work or had something
In common, talking all at once to a group that was familiar, but didn’t care to listen.
Amidst the talking, too many at once, and the clacking of her heels, like a kid, against
The granite ledge, “sometimes you just gotta be quiet,” she said to nobody listening.



