Everything’s a miracle

23 Thursday Feb 2012

Posted by in gratitude

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My friend Debbie taught me this.  She said that when she gets stressed or harried, she says to herself, “Everything’s a miracle.”  Then she looks around to find evidence and always does.  If she’s in a car, well, that’s a miracle right there that two tons of steel moves around so easily — and that she’s sitting in climate-controlled comfort, perhaps with lovely music coming through the radio.  In the supermarket, she’s surrounded by an incredible bounty of food.  Often, she’s near her family members who she loves dearly.

I’ve been trying it lately.  I’ve noticed beautiful bubbles forming in puddles while I strolled in the rain.  I’ve stared at clouds and birds and trees and happy children.  My cat is definitely a miracle!  As is this computer and the incredible technology that lets me send my thoughts all the way around the world.

And here’s one of the best miracles of late which will make sense if you read the previous post, “Arguing with Mother Nature”. The magnolias are still blooming!!  My mom got to see dozens of trees still in pink perfection.  Oh, me of little faith . . .

Give it a try.  How many miracles can you find within ten feet of you right now?

Arguing with Mother Nature

04 Saturday Feb 2012

Posted by in nature, thoughts

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The magnolias started flowering in mid-January.  And I got sad.  And then I started making calculations, and wishing.  Wishing for things to slow down.  Wishing for time to stop – for the trees to stay in their pink and white spangled glory.  Wishing for the flowers not to fade, for the green leaves that follow the flowers to wait a little longer.  You see, my mom is coming to visit in about ten days.  And last year, around Valentine’s Day, our star magnolia tree in the yard was full of fragrant, saucer-sized blooms that looked like this:

And the city was awash with pink.  And I wanted my mom to get to see that this year. But everything is too early – it’s going to be over by then.

So, a couple of weeks ago, when I drove past a tree in crazy full-pink bloom, I would argue with Mother Nature in my head.  I thought things like, “Can’t this just wait a little longer?”  or my favorite – a simple, “Nooooo!”

Not a great way to enjoy one of the most spectacular annual natural treats in the city.

Then I realized what I was doing.  I was refusing to enjoy something beautiful because I wanted it to happen at a different time.  I was seriously arguing with reality.  No matter how hard I wished or what kinds of imagining I did, the trees were not going to suddenly go back in time to fuzzy buds.  They weren’t going to wait.  And I could be present and enjoy it, or miss it completely.

How many times do we do this? We do it with the weather — it’s raining right now as I write this — will it still be raining for the big parade tonight?  Who knows, but I don’t think I can mind control it to stop! We do it with people we know and love.  How many times do we find ourselves trying to change someone else with our thoughts- convincing ourselves that everything would be fine and we could enjoy ourselves if they would just act differently, for heaven’s sake!

The truth is, the only thing we really have the power to change is our own viewpoint.  Our own lens.  Life gets a whole lot lighter when we aren’t trying to get other people to be different or make the weather the way we want.  It gets lighter when we stay in our own business – taking care of what we really can do something about.

So the past few days, I’ve been admiring the trees.  Smelling the blooms.  Enjoying the fallen petals.  Remembering that this blooming doesn’t last, and reminding myself to enjoy this beautiful, rainy, flowering, present moment.

When my mom gets here there will be plenty of lovely, special, and perhaps even surprising things to enjoy, even if they aren’t pink magnolia blooms.

How to take a wordless walk

24 Tuesday Jan 2012

Posted by in walks, wordlessness

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You can do this anywhere.  While you might imagine a wordless walk happening in a peaceful forest or deserted beach, it’s just as possible to enjoy wordlessness in a busy airport or city streetscape.

Here’s what I do.
1. Breathe.  No, really.  Feel your breath actually expanding your lungs instead of that shallow stuff you’re doing most of the time because you’re so busy thinking.  (I have to remind myself of this, that’s why I’m reminding you too!)
2. Soften your gaze.  Find an object (a tree, a building, a Cinnabon store) in the middle of your visual field.  Look at it, then while still looking at it, widen your peripheral vision as far as you can to include everything around it.  Bring the object you’re looking at to the foreground, then make it the background, just by shifting your focus.
3. Listen.  Listen to all the sounds around you.  Birdsong, car horns, the wind, airport announcers – take it all in.  Now try to hear the space between the sounds.
4. Walk slowly with your gaze soft and your ears open.  You can also use your sense of smell – flowers? ocean? cinnamon rolls? – to bring yourself to the present.
5. Walk for as long as you like, using your softened yet heightened senses to keep you in the present moment.  Keep breathing. If you find yourself drifting into thoughts of the past or future, you can help snap yourself back to the now simply by asking yourself to look around – really look.  Really listen.  Just be – without any need to be doing anything else.  And let me know how it goes!  I’d love to hear about your experiments with wordless walking!

Wild, wonderful wordless walk

21 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by in nature, oneness, walks, wordlessness

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The deer came.  The woodpeckers came.  An armadillo surprised us. We were quiet for a couple of hours, but the woods around us were full of sound.  Robins, doves, frogs, hawks, chickadees, creaking trees, whooshing wind and skittering skinks provided an almost musical backdrop for our stroll, and the peaceful greens and browns of the winter swamp soothed our eyes.  For a little while we didn’t have to do anything but be present and enjoy, and it was lovely.

Yes– today I hosted the my first monthly Wordless Wetland Walk on a beautiful woodland trail in Jean Lafitte National Park.  Before we even began, the deer came. This seemed special to me, because I’d asked the deer to please come. They weren’t close–  way down the road actually, but one stood a long time watching, then eventually walked away, its white tail flicking coyly side to side.

Our walk was wordless to help us be present.  We wouldn’t be chatting or making small talk, or even trying to find out the name of that bird or the species of this tree.  We wouldn’t be talking about how pretty the woods looked or how good the wind felt. We would just be quiet, and look for the stillness in our own souls.  We’d use our senses to help us stay in the moment.

We walked to the base of one of my favorite trees and sat for a while, perched or nestled among its moss-covered roots.

We gazed up at the Spanish moss swaying in the wind.

We peered close up at leaves, acorns and dropped maple flowers,

We looked far at clouds and sky and treetops full of birds.

We didn’t speak, take photos, or even gesture much.  We just walked quietly, looked, and sometimes stopped or sat.  (These photos are from my scouting walk yesterday.) We spread out for most of the time, so each of us had our own space in the woods. Toward the end of the walk we clumped up and watched an armadillo for quite a while – they don’t see or hear very well, so I don’t think this one even knew we were all about 6 feet from it.

We softened our gaze, slowed our steps, and breathed.  We forgot concerns or worries, at least for part of the time.  We marveled, noticed, appreciated, and most importantly, just existed.  Sound good?  Want to try it yourself?  Tomorrow I’ll be writing some tips on enjoying a wordless walk anywhere.  And if you’re in the NOLA area, check the Happenings tab above to see when I’m hosting the next wordless walk!

May as well give up now; try again in 2013…

16 Monday Jan 2012

Posted by in oneness, wordlessness

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This is where I was on New Year's Day. Explains why I sort of forgot about the resolution thing.

Wow.  We’re halfway through the first month of 2012.  Half way!  If you’re like me, it feels like perhaps someone put you in a time machine on New Year’s Day and you emerged two weeks later, dazed and confused.  Perhaps you’re a little freaked out because that’s 1/24th of the year already gone, GONE!!!  And such a long list of things that were going to be different or fantastic about this year – what’s been checked off? – what’s been accomplished? – what new habits are fully in place, little stickers on the calendar marking their completion?  Yoga, breathing, eating, exercising, being nice, not cursing, going to bed at a decent hour, no more time-wasting on YouTube/Facebook/Twitter/Hulu.

No yelling, instead being like the Dalai Lama, a walking paragon of peace and equanimity, never even thinking an angry thought.  Magically having time to live, work, make healthy and delicious meals full of fruits and vegetables, plus enjoy quality time with spouses/friends/family/children/neighbors/pets.  While we knit/sew/draw/photograph/paint beautiful creative pieces.  And keep the place clean – don’t forget that!

Do you- on this holiday to honor a wise and fabulous man who saw the big picture, even if he was still a human with his own foibles – do you look around and wonder where the heck January went?  Did your stickers fall to the wayside on January 4th? (Or 3rd, or 2nd?)  Are there dust bunnies lurking in the corner?  Have you had fast food?  Or an angry thought? Or perhaps a screaming match with a loved one?  Do you want to throw up your hands, dive back under the covers and say, forget it – I’ll try again in 2013?

Well, I’m here to tell you (and myself) to settle down.  Take a breath.  Look out the window.  Even better, go outside.  Even if it’s cold.  Just step out there and breathe the air and remind yourself that you’re alive.  Drop your plans.  Ask the little part inside you, the one that maybe doesn’t get to weigh in often enough, what one thing you’d most like to do today.  And just do that.

Me?  I didn’t make any resolutions this year.  I was too immersed in wordlessness and oneness.  My plan’s been to approach things a little more openly this year.  Stay present.  I know I’ll get things done – I always do!  And I have a lot more energy to make things happen if I’m not beating myself up for the 37 items on a too-long list of goals and plans that didn’t get done.  I’ll keep you posted about how it goes.  So far, so good!

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