Considering the Earth

 
 
 
 

It is still winter, but winter looks very different in the desert. On this day I decided to take a walk in the more open desert rather than be shielded by the great red rocks. The beauty is inspiring. As I walk around I think about all of the things befalling the Earth, all of the damage we have done as a species, as well as the natural radiation and changes imposed from the sun and other celestial bodies.

The Earth is constantly changing, shifting. But it remains beautiful and nurturing, a home for many creatures. Even if our actions bring on another ice age, even if we cease to a part of this web of life, this life will continue. As I look at this desert landscape I consider the Earth with a sense of hope. That which we now value, the trees and lakes and hillsides that command top dollar, could be gone in an instant. But this beauty will remain.

I not only see this beauty, I feel this beauty. I meditate on this beauty and my Dahn Jon is alive. The vibrations of these beautiful thin trees, tall grass and dry ground resonate within me. And I am blessed.

Winter Reflections: Scents and Sounds

Winter has come and begun its mission in earnest. I develop a new relationship with my senses. It is easy to associate winter with the sensations of the skin, the feel of the cold. There is also something to stimulate the sight. The world is bled of color as everything is covered in white. The skies appear elastic and uninterrupted. But Winter in desert country, Arizona, adds stimulus for other senses.

Scents and sounds are not something I have become accustomed to in Winter. I grew up in the full-blanket snows of our nation's heartland. Winter brings hush, quieted tones. Light crunching under footsteps. And I don't remember much about smells, except maybe that I couldn't smell because my sinuses were blocked. The same could be said for my adult winters in New England.

But Arizona has surprised me. No, not that it has gotten unusually cold. It's that late December and January is the time that citrus starts to ripen in the Phoenix area. I could smell the pungent aroma of citrus blossoms everywhere. It was unusually invigorating. Up here in Sedona, people are burning pine and juniper in their fireplaces. There is this aroma that can only be described as "yummy' because it goes beyond the nose and deep into the abdomen.

And I mentioned sound. Somewhere around here, bees still buzz. Before the snow I could hear them busily humming in droves around rosemary flowers. And despite the cold pallor over the land, I hear a continual chorus of chirps and whistles. Little green and grey birds at play, as if it were Spring. And the voices of the ravens seem to carry further in this weather--they always have something to say.

I did get caught in the Winter blast on the East Coast, and it was really beautiful. I know that people living out West can get whiny about being exposed to that weather. But it really helped me to slow down, take a deep breath, enjoy good company. I think it really helped me approach the New Year with a new perspective. "Beauty is where you find it" is such an apt quote for this situation. If my life of plans and activity feels so derailed by Mother Nature, then there is room for more flexibly in my life. I am pleased to enjoy the flow of these Winter winds. I take a deep breath and walk upon the Earth with love.

A Time for Soul Searching

Many things to to reflect on during this time. Mid-term Elections, Dia de Los Muertos, All Souls Day, Halloween, Samhain. And last, but not least, National Diabetes month. As I was hiking on Sunday, I wondered if there was a conscious decision to have Diabetes month right after a national sugar fest. Because it is a time of Celtic New Year and time for remembering and honoring ancestors, Diabetes stayed with me. How many of my family members have been touched by this disease. Both maternal and paternal family members are prone to it.

Without consciously knowing it, I developed an odd relationship with sugar. As I became an adult, I noticed how certain "foods" made me feel and I didn't like it. I began to treat sugar with the same aversion some people have for alcohol or tobacco. Maybe somewhere deep down inside I knew that I was carrying this genetic time bomb, that would be detonated with a significant amount of sugar. Maybe I carried terrible memories of my paternal grandmother's amputation or the stories of how my maternal great grandmother had cuts that would not heal. Maybe, I was stifling the worry for my siblings, trying not to imagine them in Diabetic comas. These thoughts all flowed back to me like the little skulls and scary masks that are emblematic of this time of year.

Thankfully, I crossed the river of my fourth decade in pretty good health. Thankfully, my ancestors had given me hope and courage, despite the genetic time bomb. Thankfully, I made peace with my own mortality and I found a practice that helped me know and accept myself physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I took a series of deep breaths and really began to live.

Each one of us carries some frailty or sensitivity that we inherit. Truly a lot of our personal healing involves doing the healing work our parents or grandparents didn't finish. So this time for remembering is also a time for accepting my responsibility, my part in the weaving a great cloth. And I breathe again.

It's been years since I gathered candy for Halloween. It's been years since I put on a costume. But I think this year I got to see the fun in it again. In lovely Sedona, not only is the weather pleasant, but everyone around town seemed to be dressed up on Sunday. At the grocery store, at the gym, at the coffee shop and on the streets. All sorts of costumes. It caused me to reflect on what, why or how I stopped celebrating life in this way, how I became so serious. I did a long hike on a new trail. Quite appropriate. I can start to take a different approach. I am seeing new ways for integrating my internal growth with connections to others.

I sat down to meditate in a cool spot. My spine charged with energy, my hands charged with energy, my lungs filled with the fresh scents of pine and juniper. My eyes filled with the bright light reflected on new flowers and leaves. My feet were tired from the rough rocky path, but my heart was full and grateful peace. I was happy to get back into town, to experience the energy of this time of year.

As I voted today, I marveled at how crowded the place was. I do not always agree with the politics of some of my new neighbors, but I do like their sense of civic involvement. I also appreciate their easy-going style. I have mentioned again and again how beautiful this place is and how blessed I feel to be with these red stone hills. But I am beginning to appreciate the beauty of the people here, too. Maybe the red rocks have softened my heart. I hope so.

By the way, two of these photos are from NYC. I couldn't resist sharing them.

Blessings and light,

Joseph

Opportunity Presented

Made an early morning trip to a trail not far from my house. Since it was one of the first areas I explored on my own, it holds a special place in my heart. I find something new every time I return. This time, I found a side trail that was a quick vertical ascent. It brought me to a beautiful ridge facing the rear of Cathedral Rock.

I walked along the edge of the Mesa until I found a space that was "just right." Like that Goldilocks planet that was in the news recently. The right conditions for life. At least for me, at that moment. I stretched a little and did some deep breathing to release tension from my body.

As I sat down and did Brain Wave Vibration meditation, I remembered what Cathedral Rock is supposed to represent. It is an important feminine vortex that heals or helps you with energy from your past. I relaxed my shoulders and meditated; thoughts flooded through my mind and I realized how much I needed to be here. It was time to let go of some patterns that kept getting reflected in my relationships and actions. Time to change the lens I had been looking through. It was time to change the theme song I was working with.

The first time I approached Cathedral Rock, it was a momentous climb. My friend and I each faced and released an old fear. That climb taught me, experientially, how one step beyond the limits of our fears can bring immense freedom and opportunity. Before I took that step, I focused on what was not possible. After that step, I began to see "impossible" as a fluid concept. Years later, I have learned to practice letting go, passing through the boundaries of the possible, recognizing my reality as a mirror.

So, I looked at myself as I meditated, spine aligned and head open to the sky. I saw what I was re-creating and made the choice to change. I know this is not easy to do, even if we choose in our minds, it may be difficult to take action. That's where I have faith in the power of our lives as metaphor. After my meditation, I put on some music and did Ki Gong and Dahn Mu; I danced my new choice. I took action on my new outlook. And the beautiful red earth bore witness.

This trail, my special trail is called Baldwin Trail. I do not know who it was named after. However, I cannot help but think of the great American literary pioneer, James Baldwin. Not that he was ever literally in this spot. But that the deep soul searching reflected in his writing is similarly invoked on this trail.

Descending to the main trail, I remarked at how subtle that turn-off was and how I "should" have followed the large cairns nearby. Powerful distraction, this soul searching. I happened upon a young woman carrying a baby on her back, wandering along the side trails. She commented on how easy it is to lose the main trail here. I responded that each side path offers so much beauty, that nothing is "lost." We both smiled and I took the trail back to its origin while she followed a side path into a pine forest.

Back on the Trail

Today I finally made it back on the trail after nearly two weeks. It was wonderful to be outside in the cooling autumn air. I thought of that Cole Porter tune,"You'd be so nice to come home to..." Yeah, this place feels really alive to me, almost personifying nature for me. I feel that once people spend time connecting with nature we develop a different sense of ourselves and our relationships. This may sound like the zeal of a convert, but I have been a nature boy all of my life. Only now am I expressing it from my heart.

I decided to approach the magnificent Cathedral Rock (part of which is seen in the photos above). But instead of doing that heart jolting vertical climb, I took a circuitous path around its base. Templeton Trail, it's called. I climbed to the back half of the trail twice before, but had not seen this portion. I was captivated by the beautiful combination of stark dry stone and lush pine forest. I felt like I was transported to another planet.

I spent some time meditating in the middle of a wide stream bed--mostly dry. It created its own mysterious path. If I had more time, I could have spent the whole day out there. Thankfully, I captured the memories in my heart and on my Blackberry. I hope you can get a sense of this special beauty. I am happy to be back where endless trails of beauty await me. But I have to say this place has given me a better eye for beauty. It has helped me see it more clearly. So I can be sure that I will not run out of inspiration while my feet are on this earth.

Peace and beauty,

Joseph

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Now playing: Margaretha Evmark - You'd be so nice to come home to
via FoxyTunes

Meeting the Mystic Trail

Dear Folks,

I have written in the past about how much I enjoy the beauty, ease and simplicity of Mystic Trail. Yes, this is all true, but I learned something new today. I learned it because I have decided to visit this trail for the next 21 days for special meditation. Since my intention was to go to meditate at a great spot overlooking a quiet valley of red rocks, I met an unexpected challenge.

I have been on this trail and its offspring so many times, I felt I could do it in my sleep. Well, I can't. This morning, I must have been a little sleepy. I was definitely distracted; thinking instead of mindful walking. When I say "thinking" I mean that activity in the brain where we roll something over and over again like a dung beetle, so that it grows in proportion and importance. I was awakened from this counterproductive cycle by a small row of flat stones. Hmmmmm. I had never seen those before. Usually, anything lying across a trail, be it stones or a log or sticks, indicates that you should not go any further. I looked up toward the rest of the trail and it seemed to disappear. The trail seemed to be leading down, away from the row of stones. But I was going up, wasn't I?

That's when I realized that I had gotten of the trail I was on. Instead of trying to forge ahead (which is what we do when we refuse to admit we are wrong) I turned around. Backtracked, retraced my steps. Oy veh! I was far off the trail. I didn't recognize any of the trees or stones or vistas. I can't believe I let myself get so caught up!

Well, I found my way back to the trail I wanted. I headed back toward the canyon. I had to laugh at myself when I looked at my watch. My time before work was running out. I only made it half-way to the canyon when I realized it was better to sit and meditate and then head back. That's what I did.

On the way back, I saw the slight turn on the trail which had taken me in the wrong direction. Very subtle. But even on this easy set of trails I learned, once again, the value of mindfulness. Clarity does not mean focusing on your concerns. Clarity is seeing the concerns in the context of the big picture. They are but tiny obstacles that will move or be moved in time. Effective action requires focus on inner stillness.

Peace and love,

Joseph