Inspiration

We recently saw the most magical film, “Lars And The Real Girl.” Film-making at its finest, if you ask me; tremendous ensemble work, psychologically on the money, not one misstep over the top, when going over would have been so easy. It was ripe with pathos, that wonderful rich, true pathos so difficult to create without corn. This ‘pathos’ was indeed from the Greek; ‘a suffering passion, imbued with that quality of human, or animal experience, or its artistic representative, which awakens feeling of pity, sympathy, or tender sorrow.’ My dictionary writes of pathos as emotions, traits, or experiences that are evanescent, transitory and idiosyncratic, emotions that are often melancholy but excite feelings, at times with a detached pleasure. The truth of pathos grows throughout the story, worn beautifully by each character from their own view, their particular story. And as difficult as their lives become, they never lose their evanescent, idiosyncratic warmth, their pathos, nor their ability to connect. The story and acting are enough to enchant, but what most beguiles is the tremendous sense of connection. This is a community that honors its crazies. It felt like a mythical place where we do not disdain bizarre, disowned selves taking mortal form, where the simplicity of kindness blooms and grows, proffering hope. This was not the gaummy, sticky goo of too sweet ick. This was practical, no nonsense love; “I’ll pick you up and take you. Don’t be late.” This was a network of confused, fearful people willing to support someone doing things they did not in the slightest understand. I yearn for community reaching out in care, no matter what. I am not alone. We are a nation, perhaps an earth, longing to come together in simple gifts, to accept and open ourselves to one another through these……

When the cold rules I lean skeletal against skies sullen in wetness. I have gone under, within the marrow, Where the great heart rules, Pulled from the ground before freezing To fill out the form of life to come, Not to defeat the dying, Or what others say of shape-shifting For my shape is source, not fashion. My leaves, torn from limbs, Shimmered red and orange lights, Wooed the darkness, Depart in a festival of sacrifice To dance at the Gates of Heaven. Forlorn fingers reach, a mother for her children, Anguish of emptiness where fullness grew. This different life, this spiraling core, Is the Crone’s turning Her velvet storehouse winter’s deepest secret. Is the earth wearied by this surrender? If ever there were a love story If ever the soul might speak It speaks here for bleak, cold gifts And prayers barren of demand. To meet headlong The awaited annihilation.

In this fall of ’09 we are either change-agents or victims. We might be both, trading off as we struggle with growing consciousness, and instability. We are taking baby steps to embrace new discoveries, while relinquishing certainties, even when we are certain we are right …especially then. This certainty of rightness is a crystallized habit, where even the most accepting and open set-up resistance to alternative thinking. This change-territory calls for us to chip away at our known, formulated designs, so we begin to see the layered patterns underneath, those sheaths of will and stubbornness that hold us in static probity. We are far more fixed than we suspect. Do you drive to work on the same roads? Do you shower only in the morning? Do you choose the same coffee cup every day? Do you always put the right shoe on first? None of these are earth shattering, so start here. Start chipping away at the small crystallizations. Diversify and become conscious of every pattern that creates the texture of a day/week/year. Questions arise out of this process: If I surrender old boundaries, will I leave myself too vulnerable? If I do not follow the rhythm and ritual of the known, where is my comfort? If the small, sweet moments become chaotic. How do I feel safe? Better yet to ask: If I remain a predictable model of who and what I’ve been, how can I possibly survive the quantum leaps of this time? If I cannot accept the contrasts within and without, seeing them only as different sides of the same coin, can I hold my core? How do I grow to love the conflict inherent in my contradictions? How do I come to see this old vs. new negotiation as a gift in becoming a diplomat par……

The Harvest Moon, or Hunter’s Moon, is the full moon nearest Michaelmas, and the fall Equinox. Long ago we used to work into the night cutting the last crops, leaving only fields of stubble for the moon to shadow. We prayed mainly for enough to eat through winter, and to pay quarterly rents due on Michaelmas. This was a moon of reckoning, by whose light we evaluated chances of survival. Though many of us no longer live under fear of rents due, nor work through moonlit nights, old blood yet asks we take stock of who, and where we are. Is our Spirit strong enough to withstand winter’s weight? Has our soul grown more conscious? Did we harvest fields of joy and hope, or sow salt and sorrow? Have we created what we wished from the year? The subtle, or not so subtle, shift toward a new year leaves little time to produce hoped-for results. We face that now. The present shape of core desires may be different, but their essence hasn’t changed much. What has grown is that many millions are becoming more conscious. We are more connected through Grace, less through fear and distrust. We are a world opening to multi layers of awareness. We are manifesting potential and possibility where none existed before. This year, as we hover at wide cross roads of change, let us stand under, and with, and in, and for this Harvest Moon’s great light, beacon’s of the heart’s harvest. Asana: Vrksasana/Tree Pose. Stand tall, Tadasana, pull the R foot heel into the L groin, (toes pointing down the leg,) balance strongly yet lightly upon the earth. Face the harvest moon lifting up off the horizon as you bring hands over the heart in the Angeli or Dharmachakra mudra. See yourself as one……

As the earth held her moment of perfect balance between night & day, a tiny band of brothers circled a fire to celebrate. We stood as witnesses, called as our ancestors had been called to celebrate ‘The Queen,’ to partake and believe in her mysteries. In this last breath before tidal waves of change create different lives, and ways of being, we cradled ourselves in a time-out, gathering to be present for one another, and to honor Gaia’s edge of autumn. We chanted with voices bound in common desire. We painted symbolic faces that reflected the polarity of light and dark. We offered bodies through Salutations. Finally, we drank the Queen’s health, and ours, with rich, red wines. We did all we could to please her, to pay homage to her beautiful resilience, that she might see herself loved, As rituals go, it was not remarkable for its size or grandeur. It was not remarkable for literacy, or beauty, except for the night herself. Perhaps it lives on only in the memory of those present. Or, perhaps that fire, that brand of brothers, that ritual, are still moving out, touching hearts minds away, making other ritual possible, prompting other celebrations that treasure and sustain Gaia’s seasons and cycles. Perhaps, once again the ancestors move through us as guardians Asana: Malasana/Garland Pose. There are several variations, but the classic description is to squat down as low on the haunches as possible, with the feet together, heels down. To move it into more advanced levels, widen the knees, move the trunk forward between knees, and take the hands around shins to clasp behind the back. On an exhale, extend head and chest forward, and rest head on the earth/floor. Clasping a strap is helpful in learning this pose. Health Notes: This pose……

The regeneration of this new cycle asks that every day hold baby steps of awakening. It begs the self of personality to grow into the Self of soul. It requires the heart’s Grace to be inclusive rather than exclusive. It asks kindness at every turn, especially kindness toward self, that small self that feels it’s failing, it hasn’t done enough, if only it had been better…’this’ would not be happening. The ancient Hebrew timing of a ‘New Year’ asks we inspire ourselves with the breath of spirit. Observing world-changes, and feeling our own shifts, we boot sleepy, and frightened selves into fast forward. This struggle of the Aquarian age is to give birth to a new consciousness. With the profound planetary energies surrounding this new moon, this ‘new year,’ we finally move from out-grown shells and irrelevant structures. Scary? You bet! Demanding? Absolutely! You think you have any choice? None! What can a butterfly do but tear itself from the mold of its old chrysalis to its new adventure of flight? Like us, it may appear calm and nonchalant, but what do we know of another’s inner struggles? Afterward, when the changes become visible, we are congratulated that we took the leap, ran the river, flew off the branch…after wings stop shaking, hearts stop pounding. This new world, this new year is not just for the bold and beautiful, it is for everyone alive to Self, breathing to become… L’shana tovah Asana: Karna-Pidasana/Ear Pressure Pose. This pose is often the release from Sarvangasana/shoulder stand, as you lower legs overhead to floor. Move through Halasana/ Plough Pose, then bend knees, drop them toward the floor on either side of the head, by the ears. Hands can help prop the back up, or clasp together on floor away from shoulders, opening pectoral……