Inspiration

Your life, left out in the rain, rises from green folds, Dropping memories, sodden shirts, and ties Across the garden, Planting them selves the moment they are forgotten. Returning as quiet secrets. Did I wait for you thus Once in WW II? I called you in from the rain that night Bombs fell, and stars fell. In the morning I found a shoe, thrown off Lying beside the red Poppies. You stand here, by the bird feeder Arms open to the rain, and darting Gold Finch. A shadow memory held in the smile As you turn toward me. You, beside a blue-tiled pool, Rain sluicing off bare shoulders, arms lifted, Setting free your Falcon. I was there as I am here, Living in the penumbra of my mysteries, Photographs in pentimiento visions Grafted to time, and love, and longing.

What stories will we tell ourselves on dying? Will we look back in wonder & awe at our asinine adventuring? Or, will we be dazzled by the lists of good intention constructed each morning? Will we be enthralled by a vigorous growth of spirit, or shamed by lingering cowardice? All things, I suspect, though the assumption of seeing the bigger picture at death is specious at best. It’s difficult to imagine even constructing a story when going at this speed, impossible to create the plot line. Perhaps it’s time to p r a c t I c e? What story do we have to tell ourselves at the end of the day? Mine runs something like this… “Egad, didn’t get the report done, the books put away, can’t check daily-pages off, or meditation. When am I getting car to the mechanic? And I still can’t get into that size six. Fewer fats tomorrow.” Now there is a story I can’t wait to read! What a bloody cock-up of a beautiful life. Perhaps it is time to Practice. Instead of collapsing into wine, whining, and TV at the end of the day, what if we told ourselves a story of that day, and all day long we saw ourselves as the hero/heroine of this fairy tale. Would we change the day? Fewer lists, more costumes? Less dishes, more black stallions, and swords? What if we grew enough awareness to realize this could be the last day, the ultimate story we have a chance to create and tell? What if this is my day for a ‘Once upon a time histoire, and I bollux it by checking it off as an item on my list? A moment never to return, be cherished, or re-told. Asana/Pose: Is there a pose that gives you……

We are in the three days, known as Wesak, that honor Buddha’s birthday. This year the Wesak full moon fell in Scorpio, a powerful symbol for one who transformed life to embody compassionate enlightenment. Buddha, literally meaning ‘one who is awake,’ denotes anyone arriving at supreme compassion and wisdom, transcending desire and suffering. “Oh, if only we could,” we murmur. But no matter how much caffeine, or driven desire spins each moment, that totality of wakefulness eludes. Despite understanding that the yearn to be different, that what, and who I am creates my unhappiness, I continue to wish life different than what is. While appreciating all that most moments offer, there is a twisty angst for it to be better. Great and wise sages through the ages advised that wanting something other than what-is, creates our pain, and our enslavement. But how to shift? How to grow? How to transform? Isn’t that wishing life to be different, enlightened even? Holding the polarity in one of my favorite Yoga poses, Ardha Chandrasana/Half Moon, I ask this imponderable question, looking to the physical for a satisfaction of knowing. If I can feel how to hold four oppositions, creating a firm and contented center, then perhaps I shall begin to hold the oppositions of Buddha’s path. While my chest revolves to open upward, I question the heart, “How do I remain happy just as I am, yet not lose the desire to grow, to be awake?” Perhaps if I were fully awake, I would be only with the moment of opening into Half Moon, knowing that all else will evolve from its centering joy. Even two seconds from now is too far in the future. Perhaps I dis-honor the glory in this moment by moving beyond it, or out of it, when it……

When someone is our mother it is impossible to see her as a person. This is true of anyone with a title relating us to them, such as, boss, lover, or grandfather. When it is a convoluted, deeply-tied, and tiered relationship, there are powerful forces at work to keep us from seeing. Mainly, we know only that piece called ‘the relationship,’ not the person, and certainly not the whole. I was reminded of this yesterday when a friend told me she had discovered a box of letters, written through the years to her mother, by people who had known her mother well. My friend turned to me and said, “I had no idea of this person they wrote to, wrote about, or related to. This was not the mother I knew.” This statement comes from a thoughtful, intelligent, caring daughter who is writing a memoir about her relationship to her mother. If she stands shocked, how much understanding do the rest of us have, who haven’t begun to question, or see the woman who gave us life? None. None of us have none. Knowing the mother or father who held the power of life throughout childhood, is akin to asking, “Who is God?” They were gods, for better or ill, and anyone who holds that kind of power is constrained by rigid standards, impossible to see or understand. Yes, we grow up….well, sometimes we grow up. We all grow older. But our vision of mother is one that is often arrested in development. How do we see the woman who suckled us at her breast, changed dirty diapers, and struggled with her life to save ours? To comprehend her, and that relationship, we must begin a deep inner journey of exploration and revelation. We must be willing to stand on……

Come May someone, somewhere begins walking to Pomp & Circumstance. The hymn of graduation hums along for all, it is simply more audible in certain lives. Just as Ma Nature graduates to full-bloom- glory come spring, we fling off old garb, open windows, and show intimate skin, to take next steps. Revealing ourselves anew is an alchemical process for it demands constant participation. Just as school requires we show up for class, do homework, kiss up to the teacher, and finish exams to graduate, we must rise and shine to bloom and grow time and again in order to transform. We must become the gardener and the flower, for as in any scientific experiment, the outcome depends as much on the involvement of the observer/gardener as the flowering-one. We too must do homework; till the soil/soul, fertilize the roots/ mind, reveal the heart of our colors, and kiss everyone who takes a moment to admire our effort. If we do not stand at the window for sunrise, or lie under the moon as she traverses her heaven, we have no knowledge, or use of their power. There is no alchemical change within, and if we hope to transform our world, if we treasure being beautiful-beings of courage and joy, then we must experience the radiance. It is hopeless to read, and intellectually understand these things, just as insight without emotional connection will not move us toward our next graduation. We must be greedy for the full, bloody experience…the demands, surprises, and gifts, or we wilt, faded, repressed and unfulfilled. This is a time of enormous graduations, of re-wiring, and re-configuring old skills, old thinking patterns. If we do not hear faint strains of Pomp & Circumstance as we step up and out each day, then we’d best run back, and……

Cradled in winter’s cold Nine months she’s dreamed this hour Waiting warmth Loins opening to green shoots. Snowdrops crowning crusted snows. Soon, the fertile womb surrenders Daffodil, Forsythia, Pear, Tulip, Greedily forcing life from the dark mother. Tiny, mewling cries rise and fall Minute featherd bird-babies Lie upon her fecund belly, gasping first breath. In a tearing orgy, “I am, I am!” Sings every hour’s chorus. Soon spent, she begs days of languor and sweet succor. Asana/Pose: Jathara Parivartanasana/Stomach Turning Pose. Lie on back, arms outstretched to sides. Exhaling raise both legs straight up over hips. Inhale, lift hips up and move them to R. Exhale, slowly lowering legs down to L hand, try to keep back on floor, and legs together and straight. Take 5-10 breaths, then slowly raise legs back to center. Repeat other side by first moving hips to L. It helps to either hold onto something heavy as you do first attempts so that shoulders remain flat on floor. *Do not do this pose if you have lower back issues, as it strongly pulls on psoas muscle, attached to spine. Health Notes: Jathara is wonderful for toning abdominal organs; pancreas, spleen, liver. It also strengthens intestines, helping with gastritis. The lower back and abdominal muscles are strengthened, reducing excess belly fat. Ayurvedic Notes: Thousands of years ago, when Ayurveda medicine came into being, we were much more intertwined with Ma Nature, therefore routines, treatments, and reasoning were formed as practical responses to living well with cycles and seasons. One of the more important routines is to begin and end each day with observance and honor to Universal Source….call it what you will. Letting a few short minutes of joy, gratitude, and peace be part of the daily heart-space changes our world. Astrology Notes: Venus ruled Taurus……