Lightening Long Branch Creek with Willow Street Yogins
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I woke and dressed myself as early as if it were a work day to take the metro and then the bus to the little playground/park where we entered the creek. It was already promising today’s humid heat in the sun, but it was pleasant in the shade. The group was a good size. Large enough to get some work done, but small enough to stay easily connected. We divided the work — path or creek — based on who wore which shoes, which allocated the cleaning well.
It was a beautiful way to appreciate off the mat the Anusara axioms, “look for the good,” and “respond from the highest.” As you can see from the pictures, Long Branch Creek is a lovely sanctuary of greenery and running water. It is evidently not fresh, but it is still giving its all. We could see the beauty, but also recognize that the creek could more powerfully share the energy of nature if it was not so dirty. Rather than complain that the creek was dirty and dangerous and stay away from it, we were invited to appreciate both what it is and what it could be and got our feet wet and ourselves dirty to be with the creek. I wish it weren’t necessary, and I will be looking for more ways to try and contribute less waste, but I think in the meantime, it would be right to do this more often.
Memorial Day (and service)
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Hanuman, the monkey god, is one who reminds us to serve. When Hanuman was a kid, he was rather full of himself. That was not surprising, really, as he had wonderful and magical powers of strength and agility. When he got too audacious playing with his powers against the bigger gods, he was cursed to be able to remember his powers only when he was serving with true love and devotion. When he was serving Ram and Sita, then, the full force of his powers were available to him to help in their dilemma. (Yes, this is a rather creative summation).
Some of my strongest memories from childhood were observing my father when he was providing draft counseling for those conscripted to fight in the Vietnam War. My father did not talk on the phone because it was tapped, but we heard a lot of conversations about whether to be a soldier, be a conscientious objector, find a basis for deferral, or otherwise protest or avoid the draft. Although I was raised to think that war did not serve humanity (though my parents engaged in debates about whether all wars were bad, discussing the difference between fighting against Hitler and fighting in Vietnam), I was also raised to believe strongly that we all have a duty to serve. I meet many in the military here in Washington, DC. What I find is that those who have chosen military life have a strong sense of service. Even if I do not believe in most of the basis of the service (just as I don’t hold much truck with whom Sita was expected to be and the basis of the battles in the Ramayana — more on that some other time perhaps), I respect that those who were conscripted and felt they had no alternative or those who chose to be in the military put their lives on the line to serve.
I try to think of Memorial Day as honoring those who have served and not, as I did when I was younger, dismiss it because it was more societal indoctrination to perpetuate the war machine. When Natalie and Joe Miller invited those at Willow Street to join them in service by helping to clean up part of Long Branch Creek, I signed up. I appreciated their way of making it easy both to honor peace (by helping the environment) and those who have served (by ourselves serving). We will be taking our yoga of the mat and into the world with a morning of seva– selfless service.
An Armload of Radishes
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This morning I went to my community garden plot around the corner before I got ready to head into Georgetown to volunteer at The Lantern Bookshop.
I ws delghted to find enough snowpeas for a good-sized stir-fry and several zucchini almost ready to be picked (I only get zucchini at the very beginning of the season before the squash borers invade, but if I start early enough, I can get a few pounts of squash and a couple of meals worth of blossoms before I surrender and plant something else).
The tomatoes were flourishing (no sign of blight. If you have your own plants, keep an eye close for blight; it’s aleady been seen in Maryland. Cherry tomatoes are more resistant, so I’ve concentrated on those).
I should have the first cucumbers big enough to pick next week, and I have plenty of lettuce.
The radishes, though, had exploded. “Should I have a radish-themed dinner party?” I thought. “What am I going to do with all of them?” I am not especially fond of radishes. I plant them because they mature very early, they thrive on benign neglect, I have friends who like them, and they give the same crunch I’d prefer from a cucumber weeks earlier.
I’ve also discovered I like them cooked. Just as you can prepare turnips and their greens together, it also works well with radishes.
As I was walking home with a bunch of radishes that I could hardly get my hands around, I bumped into a neighbor. I don’t know her well, just recognize her face. “Do you want some radishes?” I asked, hoping I did not sound like I was begging. She hesitated, but then seemed to realize that she would be doing me a great service by accepting them. “You can cook the greens,” I said as I handed her a nice-sized bunch, “and also the radishes themselves if they are too strong.”
“I’ve never done that,” she said.
Here’s the recipe I gave her on the street (with a little more detail here):
Wash radishes and their greens well. Cut radishes into thick coins (this works best with oblong radishes sich as French Breakfast). Cut off the white part of stem nearest radish. Then cut the bunch horizontally so that you have half inch wide shreds. Mince some garlic, onion, and ginger. Stir-fry aromatics in peanut, safflower, or canola oil until translucent. Add the radish coins and stir until well-coated with oil. Add greens, stirring continuously until all the greens are wilted. Add some rice wine vinegegar and cook until absorbed and the grrens are just tender. Take off heat and sprinkle with soy sauce or Bragg’s Amino Liquid and toasted sesame oil to taste.
“What a nice morning,” my neighbor said, “fresh radishes from the garden and a recipe.
A Reason to Love the Internet and More on Institutions By Someone Greater Than I
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See this Op-Ed piece in the NY Times written by the Dalai Lama. Although the proliferation of technology and constant access can be overwhelming, it can also serve as a wonderful bridge and connection among us.
Blog Posts on the Teachers’ Gathering and Being a Part of the “Institution of Anusara”
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My friend Olga has written a series of blog posts reflecting on the Certified Teachers’ Gathering and what it means to her to to be a part of the Anusara community. I found most interesting the reflections on how Anusara is growing as a community, even as an “institution.”
One of the things that I ponder in connection with being a member of any group is how deeply to be involved, whether I can pick and choose from among the teachings and practices offered and still be regarded as a true participant? Whether I can be uncomfortable with some of the organizational structure, but still be true to the ultimate goal or teachings? What does it mean at the workplace — for me the giant bureaucracy of the Department of Labor? What does it mean if we are a member of an organized religion (I’m a member of the Friends Meeting of Washington)? A group of like-minded practitioners? A neighborhood? A society?
beauty is where you find it
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We have a choice. We can emphasize what we don’t think enhances life (for example, an over-sized, gas-guzzling, suburban SUV with city plates) or we can focus on an exquisite reflection of beauty. That we see what optimally would better be changed or shifted to be more fully aligned with nature or that we speak of it does not mean that we are not seeing beauty or embracing the whole of life with love.
Getting Ready to Go Back to the Office (and wanting to know more about derivatives and love)
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Last week I chose not to read details of the state of the environment, the financial markets, the wars, the budget, etc, etc. I knew from reading emails requesting political action and contributions general information, including what happened in the special elections, the actions in the Senate on financial regulatory reform, and the aftermath of the oil leak in the Gulf. Now it is Monday morning, and I am back.
As I saved for later the reference to this talk on derivatives, I thought about John Friend having said at a retreat several years ago that we should take the time to read the parts of the newspaper that do not directly interest us as yogis. He suggested that we should take the time to read news about finances, politics, and global affairs. I remember thinking at the time that since I already read that part of the news with engagement, I’d have to start reading the sections about sports, television, and cars. I actually try to do the latter on occasion, just to better understand those around me.
If we are to live in the world, we need to try and appreciate what motivates and impassions those around us, whether we agree with them on the surface or not. It is easy enough to say we should love everyone regardless of who they are and to do so at a very abstract level. The challenge is finding a loving space when we know the details, and we believe that the details point to a life that is not being lived in accordance with our ethics, our own surface wants, or how we envision the world. When we have a broader understanding of the details of why people believe and act a certain way, though, sometimes it is then easier to find compassion and commonality, because we start to understand that the different details come from the same elemental yearnings for worthiness, empowerment, and love.
Track Work on the Red Line
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I am writing this post as I sit on the Metro platform at Takoma, waiting for a train back to Union Station. There were already dozens of people waiting when I got here. I have been here for ten minutes or so, and there is no time posted on the board yet for the next train.
Some people are talking on their phones or socializing with each other. Some are pacing back and forth. Some look resigned. Some are going into tirades about the problems with Metro. Some are reading and have made themselves more or less at home where they are.
I sit cross-legged, basking in the sun, blogging for now, and if time permits also in my journal. I could be angry or impatient or annoyed, but it would not get me home any sooner. So I just find enjoyment of the waiting time with the materials at hand.
Although there are circumstances where physical pain or suffering cannot be avoided, yoga can help us find a greater sense of equanimity when we are challenged. As John Friend reminded us this week in a different context, “in a large part, it will be seen that the suffering is optional.”
I now approach Union Station. Perhaps when I get home I will supplement this post with appropriate citations to Patanjali. Or maybe I will play with the cats and pick some grrens from the garden for dinner.
Train Ride Home from Teachers’ Gathering (Cary, NC to Washington, DC)
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preparing a capable vessel
to remember, to recognize,
to dance with, to love
the shimmer, the
vibration, the very
pulse of being.
Blogging by Blackberry (after thoughts on discipline and freedom)
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When I pause to think about it–something I try to do consistently with the fruits of technology–it is an extraordinary marvel that I can be telling stories to the world from a little device I am holding in my hand, one that also has let me speak and exchange notes while I am away from home with friends, colleagues, and business connections.
What I cannot do (more likely because I haven’t yet learned how than it is not possible) is to be my usual careful self when posting entries. I have not done hyperlinks to attrbute my sources, nor have I spell-checked. At home, I would not hit the “publish” button without doing those things.
Under the circumstances of being away from my regular computer, my library, the ability to check my references, and to provide proper citation, but being brimful with enthusiasm for being with my teachers, colleagues, friends, and the practices while I am at the teachers’ gathering, it seems better to post than not, using the means at hand. I sacrifice some of my usual discipline to share the joy.
All of life is like that. We may have ideals of what is proper, what are our standards for appearance, for work, for sharing a meal or our homes. When circumstances limit our ability to meet our own standards, it is part of the yoga to see whether the standards are binding us or serving to help us better connect. I believe that we should always strive to be more precise, more technically accomplished, better able to convey a sense of grace and beauty. But that effort should not cut us off, bring us to a halt, disempower us, prevent accomplishment of things. Most of all, it should not deaden a sense of spontaneity of gesture–the part of art and relationship that reveals our true spark.
keep looking »