Contemplations on readings and yoga philosophy.
More contemplation on compassion and the interplay between compassion and judgment during and after a very busy day.
On seeing me snap a picture with my phone of our shared view of the highway, homeless shelter, tax court, and an array of office buildings apparently designed in the school of Mies Van Der Rohe gone terribly wrong, my next door office mate asked, “are you taking a picture of what you will be missing while you are in India?”
“No, I’m taking a picture of a heart-shaped cloud. When I’m having a day as stressful as the one I’m having, I like to remind myself that there’s always a heart-shaped cloud out there to put things in perspective.” I held up my phone so that she could see the photo, as sometimes people don’t see the heart shape until I’ve photographed it.
“That’s pretty cool,” she observed.
She’s going to water my plants when I’m gone, and I’ll look for a little something from India for her that will make a hard day at the office a bit easier to take–perhaps a murti of Ganesha (the elephant god who is said to be the remover of obstacles).
I’ve had more than one yoga/meditation teacher who has suggested that in order to make true spiritual shifts, it is necessary to pick one path (theirs) and stick to it. I agree with that up to a point. If we just stay on the surface of lots of different things, it will be hard to go deep.
Nonetheless, living in a multicultural nation of immigrants and working in a field where being open to diversity is in my mind a job requirement and having grown up with the multifarious influences of New York and both Jewish culture and Quaker practice, it would be hard to think that sticking to a single-sourced spiritual path could be possible for me. Better then, perhaps, to go deep by also looking broadly and openly.
In that regard, though I do not consider myself a Buddhist, I often find Buddhist teachings instructive. This article by Pema Chodron on working with chaos seems particularly useful for me today.
Clouds were playful in
The purpling twilight dancing
Shapes of light on dark.
Lovely as long as one first has enough to eat and shelter from the storm.
Yesterday morning, on the listserv for the Friends Meeting of Washington, someone shared a link to the original recording of Arlo Guthrie singing “Alice’s Restaurant” as part of an email about Thanksgiving festivities. Usually, I scan listserv emails quickly and delete, especially when they relate to events that I am unable to attend. I saved this one for later, though. I’d woken up from some anguished dreams that were hard to shake, and on being reminded of it, I was sure that when I could make the time, listening all the way through Alice’s Restaurant (it’s long) would cheer me up.
This morning I did indeed listen, and remembered why we (at least those of us who attended Quaker Youth Camp in the early 1970s) memorized most of Alice’s Restaurant. It spoke to us and inspired us and invited us to feel that we were not alone in thinking that things could and should be more gracious and peaceful.
And the refrain is catchy and easy to sing. This morning, at the end, when Arlo invites the audience (the 1967 album version was a “live” recording), I started singing along just for the delight of it, which led me to think about the power of mantra.
Chanting or silently repeating mantra is one of the key yoga practices. The purpose, roughly, of mantra is to replace one set of thoughts with another. Repeating even just “om,” the simplest mantra, over and over again is meant to shift you from whatever mind state you might have been in (at least to the extent that you are having repeating troubling thought patterns) and into or towards a more beneficent state. In my own years of practice, I have found much power in practicing Sanskrit mantras, but many of the songs we have been singing for years, especially those that we associate with ritual can serve similar purposes.
If you’re so moved and feeling that you’re having thoughts around this Thanksgiving holiday that you’d rather replace with more cheerful ones, invite the power of mantra and perhaps sing, along with Arlo for the refrain in Alice’s Restaurant.
Oh yes. Happy Thanksgiving.
