Inspiration

Thoughts & words stolen from a day of magic when America stepped out from under dark clouds. I hear the heartbeat of this land again….lub-dub, lub-dub. How far we wandered from that sound, from our true song. In the darkness of frightening cycles, the gifted come to help us grow new heart-muscle, and stronger voice. Their ears opened before ours, hearing far off clarions of hope. Lub-dub, lub-dub…”Swing low sweet chariot, comin’ for to carry me home, swing low sweet chariot…” Now, we begin to hear the will, the hope, and the way of ‘optimism with realism.’ “Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free, tis the gift to come down where we ought to be” The old rancor, the old wankers, even the old lions are leaving because this new frontier asks we step up, step out and grow big-hearted again. It asks we link arms and march on together. “Seventy Six trombones led the big parade, a hundred and six clarinets… ” Every last one in ‘this patchwork-quilted country’ heard a new song today. Some of the grand old lions are ready to pass the torch. They have taken us as far as they could, and honor haloes their shedding manes. Others, inherited their blind obtuseness and simply play out their tuneless time. We let them. We allowed their soul-less song to be ours. The keening winds of sorrow and challenge are our inheritance. Now we own responsibility in switching course, sounding the alarm. Lub-dub, lub dub….. “From the Halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli…” We are touched by memories of other hard times, blood memory of ancestors moving through us. Lub-dub, lub-dub….”Oh God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come…” You see it when someone smiles, touching……

In winter’s reticence of frozen waters, lackluster oomph, and general orneriness on having to start over, there is truculence in being kind to self and others. The desire to hibernate overwhelms, and is only bear-able when home, sucking chocolate, with a pillow over the telephone. The heart lies empty, the body depleted, the mind a rag-tag nest of broken egg shells. If you were Buddha, you’d say, “A great place to start.” “But, dear Buddha, start-up cycles require plans, stamina and get go. I have none of those.” “Do you have willingness?” “Not so much. I can’t tell if I am parched, or frozen. Either way, life does not flow through me. I stand depleted from last year’s efforts, and ragged in sorrows many are going through now.” “You can do nothing about either. One is past, the other is not you. Why do you deplete your reserves? Why not re-channel your life-waters?” “Because staying present and preparing, feels overwhelming and scary.” “Why?” “Because much is being demanded.” “Says who?” “Well, you for one, me, everyone. We must do more, offer more, be better, produce more, be happier, more peaceful, make more money, give more away, be faster, stronger, more technically proficient, become more in lock-step with the young.” “Wow. Really? Even as Buddha, I hadn’t heard that.” “You don’t think lots is demanded at this time?” “As you say, ‘lots’ is always asked for. The type of ‘lots’ may change, even its style, but every cycle, each life, through time asks primarily one thing of us.” “Wow. Really? Is this a Buddha moment?” “Yes, it is.” “I’m ready.” “Then sit with your cat. Visualize yourself as a flowing fountain. As easily as you breathe, water rises, burburling and clear from the earth. It overflows the beautiful curves of its……

New year, new roads, new intentions, old containers. When we can, we all turn happily from the weight of regret and misshapen dreams. Why can’t we create hoped for happiness all the time? What stalls aspiration and love? What imprisons us in poverty? Perhaps growing greater consciousness is the gift that sets us free, that gives muscle to pull anchor, set sail. Growing more conscious containers gives space for transformation of the old. Whatever is unknown requires this transformation, as well as bravery. A necessary skill is deepening our relationships….not only of self with self, and other, but self to ideas and events. Moving into the matrix of the many layers of relationship connecting us to our lives, we expand our containers. We need our loved ones for courage in unknown waters. We need expanded mind/body connections to support and comprehend the new. And we desperately require familiar, daily practices to provide a solid framework. Opening these many lines of communication, we move toward universal precepts. It is less about me-me-me and more about us. The powers of life –for the most part—live unconsciously. It is our demand for individuality, even for mortality, that creates conscious responsibility, and it is that choiceful, conscious spirit begging us to weigh anchor for uncharted seas, hand in hand, each captain of their own ship, as well as disciplined sailors working the rigging as a single body. Numerically, this new year of 2009, is an ‘11,’ a master number. It also becomes a ‘2’ …you and me, babeee. We are the ONE dedicating ourselves to wrapping our containers as gorgeous gift boxes for the world…. expanding containers of greater consciousness, wrapped round with ribbons of profound relationships, and luminous papers of love. Asana: Natarajasana/King Dancer, is a lovely, fulfilling pose. This time you are……

In the four expanded crossroads of summer/winter Solstices and fall/spring Equinoxes, we are made more aware of our connection to earth, either through breathless equilibrium, or the unbalanced tilt between Sol and Lady-Dark. We reconnect modern lives to ancient pasts where we built sacred stone ‘cathedrals’ to catch first moments of light at these quadrants of change. It seems a human condition that we are more glad in longer days, and that we turn toward darkness regretfully. Have we always preferred the light? If we did not, could we be more alive with her stars and secret shadows? The spinning arc of the moon, with silver skirts held high, begs sacred recognition at this numinous crossroads. If we stand still, ancient parts of us re-connect more easily in a Solstice night. When not blinded by the light, we see the dark in all her magnificence. Perhaps the black outlines the light, teaching us trust, as each spinning moment blossoms into the next, shape-shifting hopes and dreams we’ve woven from the dark yarn of long nights. Asana: A partner pose, sun and moon to one another, releasing, trusting, taking turns holding the power for each other. Moon lies on her back, legs up to fit into the hip crease of the sun, who faces her. Luna places her hands on his chest, and Sol places hands on the floor, either side of her head. Breathing together, the moon bends her knees and lifts the sun up over her head, where he lies relaxed, trusting, letting legs hang heavy. When the partnering feels secure, sol can lift the legs up and out, and lift the arms off the floor to open out and fly. He can also bring his soles of his feet into Baddha Konasana. When ready to dismount, clasp each……

Along with loving a good lie, I often steal. Always aware when I’m lying, I’m only sometimes conscious of stealing, as I am about to do with this Daily Breath. Ann Morrow Lindbergh is the ghost of my inspiration this week. But most of the time I have no memory of who or what inspired and fired thoughts toward ‘my fabulous ideas.’ I realize that ‘there is nothing new under the sun,’ and that we all swoop in like Jackdaws after shinny trinkets, yet I am more pleased with my intentions when I give credit where credit lies, for some day I hope some one will steal from me, somehow remembering my name. Ann writes, “One must accept the security of the winged life, of ebb and flow, of intermittency.” This has always been true. We have always tried to ignore it. We need to live with interruption and abandonment more than ever, breathing into it profound acceptance. We are in the narrows and our only choice is for growth. We can do it through love, change, and acceptance of what is, or we can do it through holding tighter, dreading it to be different, or looking back to what was to make sense of what is. She writes of us, and our relationships, being as islands, “visited and abandoned by the tides,” then asks, “How can one learn to take the trough of the wave?” She didn’t know, but only stood and marveled at the fathoms of beauty lying beneath the water. In her wonder and recognition of a ‘secret kingdom’ seemingly lies her redemption. I close with her words, so exquisite they catch the heart and leave us hopeful despite no answers. “So beautiful is the still hour of the sea’s withdrawal, as beautiful as the sea’s return……

White Birch lie boned-out Bleak and naked against the fretful sky, Or, is that my narrow eye Believing them defenseless Not content or warm within? Limbs silhouette early twilight Dusted in first snow— Debutantes waltzing in white Full of every promise. Does my view affect them, As beholding me changes you? Their skeletal branches Reach into my mind Asking other possibility. Eyes wider now I lean into their curve until We weave together nude, not naked, Flushed out, vibrant Arms branch-entwined Lifting into purple shadow. Asana: Vrksasana/Tree Pose. Standing tall, pull one foot up high into the opposite thigh. Press foot into the thigh, and thigh into the foot, stabilizing the pose. Bring hands into prayer pose, or lift them overhead. Focus on what is beautiful and promising. Health Notes: This steady pose works on balance, leg strength, and calming the mind.