First Light in Morning Rain

First light in morning rain: 

and the practice is to capture earliest light, to have it touch my eyes in greeting and begin the circadian rhythm that carries me through the day and even at this point prepares me for sleep and the comforts of night.  This is an important process, assisting the body's hormonal response of producing cortisol in the morning, energizing, a direct source of vitamin D (actually a hormone) and a prompt for this cycle to unwind later in the day and bring me peaceful slumber. Even now, with first light in morning rain, walking, and I am grateful for this practice...

my body aligned to the ways of nature.

earliest light to touch my eyes. 

it's become a practice, a term I like to use as it signifies specific purpose and value, an integral part of my day for health and to address some sleep concerns that have long plagued me. But it's been the beauty of early morning that really calls draws me to its light, a softer hue that grows with intensity though every moment, life awakening to its rays, the world coming more fully alive as the sun gains in presence and dawn subsides. That it's raining doesn't matter, it belongs, a pattern of light reflected through every drop that's falling, and I am awash in soft glow, illuminated, awakened...

simply part of nature.

reborn though first light in morning rain. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Every Inch a Wilderness

Every inch a wilderness: 

at the height of Covid, all but the essentials shutdown, and worried about my father's safety and declining health due to congested heart failure, my walks were confined to my immediate neighborhood. Not long before, training for ultramarathons, I would roam the nearby bike paths for miles and hours, thinking nothing of spending an entire day accumulated distance for my training needs and the pleasure of sharing company with a few good friends. The pandemic and concern for my father changed that quickly and I kept my walks to just a few miles at a time, keeping close to home and phone in hand in case my father needed me. Fortunately I live in a beautiful town, a pond nearby, and miles of bike paths offering an escape without any real distance from my home. What I soon discovered was nearness of nature, that we are in the midst of it even through a suburban landscape, every inch a wilderness of its own. 

even a short walks through my neighborhood holds the promise of countless squirrels, rabbits, deer, and various birds. There will be hawks flying over head or perched ever watchful on a tree limb, a few times there's been an eagle spotted. My small pond, just a little over half-mile around, is home for ducks, geese, an occasional swan and blue heron, and most recently a few green herons have been spotted. Turtles abound and are always a joy to see as they dun themselves on partially submerged branches and flowered island dotting the water's surface. Occasionally a fox appears, shy, making its way though the woods in tentative steps, pausing often to appraise its present situation before disappearing in the brush. There's been rumors of coyotes, leaving hopeful of a future sighting and fearful for the smaller creatures. All of them are my companions, friends, having kept me company though my own fears of the pandemic and what life would hold without my father. 

and of course the various trees, and beautiful flowers, some grown wild while others planted as a pollinator garden. What's so often viewed as a troublesome weed is actually a feast for so many birds and treasured insects, responsible for a diverse and helpful ecosystem that supports the larger infrastructure of the world - literally, with every inch a wilderness it's all a seamless landscape by design. It's all nature, not removed or separated by sidewalk or suburban road, even the busiest city street is an island surrounded by natures presence, and this includes us, that we are belong to the environment as surely as blade of grass that finds its way through concrete, a small crack that offers wilderness a chance to reach towards the sunlight. 

yes, every inch a wilderness of its own, and this is what saved during those pandemic days, eased my worries, returned me to my essential place in nature. Life is ever present, the intimacy of my surroundings, home...

with every inch a wilderness. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Natural Yoga

Natural yoga: 

it doesn't have to be anything special, not a spiritual pursuit, nor a means of any sort of achievement - a practice is really just an expression of deep joy and the freedom to be exactly who we are, it's what we're called to do for whatever reasons, a mystery of our passion. The real secret is to truly know this, and the only realization is the surrender of any end results that come to mind, that the joy of all we're doing is enough to be enlightened. We could call this natural yoga, encompassing our every action, cultivating stillness simply for the pleasure of a quiet mind. 

it doesn't have to be a pursuit, nor anything special...

just natural yoga, easily expressed. 

honestly, enlightenment isn't much of an interest, it's not something that I often have in mind. Even decades ago when I began yoga and a meditation practice it wasn't meant to achieve anything other than satisfy my curiosity and enjoyment of this new discovery. My passion hasn't waned over the years at all, and it's a practice now for the benefits derived as well as for sheer joy of simply doing it. I consider running and my love of long distance walking an expression of this same joy, my workouts, fitness and health are natural yoga - and only because they stem from the same source, whatever mystery it is that bends me in this unique direction of being who I am. 

it's called a practice through devotion, 

not because we're seeking anything in return. 

it's for the joy of simply doing. 

and that's our true, and only yoga. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Commitment

Commitment: 

my yoga practice can really be split between the poses that come relatively easily to me and those that present a clear challenge to their performance. There are many asanas, even some that may seem difficult at first glance, that just naturally suit my body and strength and I am able to hold them with a certain strength and balance. Of course there are many more that simply defy my best and every effort and these are the ones that take the most commitment, as well as offering the biggest payoff for my investment. The difficult postures are a great challenge, not only to perform, but to commit to everyday, coming to each practice knowing that there will be moments beyond my present strength,  and perhaps I'll fail to even reach the grace I held yesterday for just the briefest moment. It's not that these asanas are the most advanced ones - it's that they're difficult, for whatever reason, for me to perform. 

these are the ones of my commitment. 

and then there is dandayamana dhanurasana, standing bow pose, a unique combination of my strengths and every weakness, a balancing posture that requires a certain fearlessness in its commitment. I will most definitely fall from its peak position, overextending and reaching just a moment too long, or holding it past the point of my current strength and balance. But not always, this is my favorite pose because of its combination of being difficult for me and at the same time, playing uniquely to my strengths. I am able to give myself fully to this pose, a deep commitment, unafraid of fall or failure. 

standing bow is at once the pose of my strength and greatest challenges.

what I find is that it's right before I fall from this asana that reach a momentary grace, balancing, not an achievement, but a suspension of the gravity of doubt and any previous failure. This just and only this moment of grace strength held however briefly. To commit fully to this pose every risk but be accepted as a clear and ready possibility, and then dismissed to its practice. There's no success here, nothing achieved, it's greater than any sense of value or measure. It's also less. 

nothing really,

it's only a moment, a yoga pose, one, that fully holds my surrender as well as deep commitment. Briefly now,  perhaps for just an instant, there is a sure and certain strength...

and even the proceeding fall belongs in the perfect order of it all. 

grace.

~

Peace, Eric 

Ocean Breath

Ocean breath: 

it's the foundational breath to my practice ujjayi, victorious, the ocean breath, and I use it through my sun salutation flow and other asanas, as well as an underlying breath to certain pranayama techniques where it lends itself to greater calm and focus. This is the sound of the ocean, a slight restriction in the back of the throat though inhale and its release that reminds me of the tide during the quiet of the night, a low hum of waves arriving from their hidden depth and then once more pulled back from shore. 

with this breath...I breath as the ocean. 

this isn't surprising as we are traced back to deep, ancient waters, our first ancestor being a microscopic species known as Saccorhytus, a common origin to many other animals as well, and from this humble start we evolved to more complex forms, eventually wandering far from our original home. Yet the ocean itself remains within us, our blood similar to its makeup, altered now by million of years of surviving on land, but still tidal in its very essence. 

an ocean's breath is our return. 

pranayama is the practice of breathing with intent and reason, cultivating life force for benefit of energy, calm, and clarity. Each technique has a certain value to its measure, a purpose that offers us a means of channeling the subtle force that animates every life form. Breath is life, an easy equation, without doubt, and yet we take this gift for granted, Pranayama calls for us to appreciate what's given, drawing air in grateful fashion and released once more to sky. We are breathing prana, life, constantly, exclusively, a chemical process that sustains us through interaction with plants that thrive on our exhalation, and in return cleanse the air for the breath's return. 

ujjayi reminds us of this connection. 

it's the foundation of my practice. 

breathing...as the ocean.

~

Peace, Eric 

Rituals

Rituals: 

my day belongs to rituals, mindful actions that support my overall well-being and sense of creativity, with one simply flowing to the next through the course of an entire day. None of these activities takes much time in their performance, most are beneficial in some way, and all of them are joyful, requiring nothing other than my commitment. Granted that I am now self-employed and have more time to give these rituals, yet there are many that I've performed for decades, through full time jobs and care-giving for both my aging parents without a single day missed. These are the acts that lend themselves to a meaningful day, they actually help provide a greater sense of freedom within their given restraints, erasing boundaries between inspiration and the life I wish to live. 

each mindful act is a devotion of its own. 

strung throughout my day. 

again, this is for my overall well-being, and I find joy in the effort that some require. Early morning yoga, just before the hint of sun, and I move my body through salutations to its rise. This often takes a round or more before muscles loosen and I achieve a flow of easy movement and gentle stretching, especially so on cold winter mornings. But yoga is a ritual that returns its favor though greater ease of motion through the day, I am better for my commitment, sitting longer in meditation, and with comfort at my desk for the writing time that follows. 

one ritual always flows directly to the next. 

what makes these rituals is really just a mindful notice, I give them my attention, a nod of appreciation for their enrichment of my life. That's really the only difference between performing a daily habit and having a ritual by design. My dental care is an example, that it's now a practice of its own, bringing a mindfulness to its details, adding things that might provide protection such as oil pulling and tongue scraping, both ancient Ayurvedic methods of caring for the teeth, gums, and overall health. Even preparing for sleep is a practice that begins the moment I arise each moment, cultivating acts that will aid me in the ending of the day. Getting outside with first light, walking and being embraced by nature, regardless of weather or more so, joyful through whatever the new day offers - this is preparation for hours later, a hormonal response now that carries an important action for the night. 

each ritual in relation to another. 

once more, this is all joyful, none of this a chore, and I experiment and explore the impact of everyone of them, changing, adding others, or dismissing some that no longer seem to serve. Everything works in benefit of the other and throughout their performance my life flows in curiosity and wonder. All of this serves me in some way, even if just a momentary joy, they each fulfill my day, offering me the means of a creative and truly happy lifestyle. 

my days belongs to rituals, small devotions...

and so my life unfolds. 

~

Peace, Eric 

An Edge

An Edge: 

at the edge of deep woods, a river bank, or ocean's shore, it's these areas of between that I am drawn to, holding my interest with their ability to belong as a unique ecosystem of their own, gaining a position that's been carved into the landscape by their support of something other than themselves. An edge exists only for the sake of a seamless connection. 

no other reason.

and yet...

an edge lends itself in definition for something particular, a forest becomes itself from the clearing just before its spread of trees, a river is carved into the earth through the course of water's motion and retains a singular identity by the landscape of its hold, and the ocean too is devoted to the shores of its existence. There's an edge to everything, but it's not a cause of separation, and really it's an illusion of between, a piece of earth that has no inherent reality of its own other than its complete willingness to belong as an aspect of the whole. 

in this sense we're all an edge to some great wilderness, existing as a thin line of believing ourselves a separate body and mind carved through mystery, our identity dependent upon the shores of an ever larger reality. We're at the edge of some deep woods here, more truly, we're the wilderness itself, the ocean, existing within made up lines for the sake of definition. This is our ecosystem, acting as an edge to mystery, a defining line of clarity, and the truth of our reality is love, endlessly lending itself to our story of existence, ceaseless, seamless....

only appearing, briefly as an edge. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Brain Attack

Brain attack: 

several months ago I suffered a bout of Bell's Palsy, the left side of my face was locked into a tight and unresponsive position, losing my ability to even briefly hold a smile. Fortunately, my condition cleared fairly quickly and completely, my normal smile, and with much reason, has returned. A notion that has stayed with me, replaying in memory, is the phrase used as I wheeled through the emergency on a wheelchair, being treated as a possible stroke patient and the repeated declaration of a "brain attack" coming through and the quick response of by doctors and nurse upon hearing these words. It was both frightening and reassuring at once, that here was a team of highly trained professionals ready to take the proper action as soon as this term was used - yet hearing myself being referred to as a victim of a brain attack, my own most valued instrument turned against, had me feeling scared and vulnerable. I remember attempting a smile and telling one doctor what a scary term they used, and she smiled in returned and said that had never considered it so, it was used for an immediate call for action. It certainly worked and I'm happy that it did, a truly wonderful team of professionals literally leaped in care and concern for my condition. If it had really been a brain attack, a stroke, a quick response is imperative and was what this team had given. I offer my gratitude in return. 

strangely though, until I heard that fear invoking term, I wasn't very frightened. Accept for the absence of my smile and the loss of proper vision in my left eye, I felt fine and was confident that nothing serious was involved. It was only hearing of a possible brain attack that I became concerned, giving this phrase some deep consideration, how my brain could possible attack a system that it served. I think of it often even now, months later, no longer with any sense of fear, just the curiosity of parts turning against another, the breakdown of coherence of an operating whole. 

of course it's not an attack at all, more of a malfunction, the body no longer serving in its proper communication. A few years ago I read Jill Bolte Taylor's wonderful book, My Stroke of Insight, her story of how an actual brain scientist recovered from a debilitating stroke, what seemed a true brain attack to her as she prized her intellectual ability above all.  Yet what the author discovered was a deep coherence that operated even as she was wounded to the core, how the mind immediately attempted to regain control with new neurological pathways, a completely different mode of communication than before. In fact, coherence isn't really interrupted, only rerouted to a less efficient mode and that healing is the simple, yet complex act of returning to a more viable form of inter-body communication. 

so there's a greater wisdom involved here, a true and deep coherence plaything through it all. With any seeming attack the body/mind is immediate in its response, offering pathways to return to its normal functions and communication. Healing takes place at once, beginning to restore and regain a lost sense of balance and control. 

coherence. 

as for me, I am extremely fortunate, there was no brain attack at all, my smile has returned and life goes on as usual now. Yet I still think of that term often, the vocabulary that we use for conditions that require healing. I'm grateful for the quick response to these words, especially with time so critical to those moment after a stroke's involved. Most importantly, that phrase is now a reminder to me of my innate ability heal, not an attack of any kind, but a breakdown of most important communication, and that even when disrupted there's an immediate action for coherence to be restored. Life is always balancing, never static in a single state, adjusting constantly through every point and challenge. That's my true healing, allowing life to find its balance, trusting that greater wisdom even as I offer my mind and body its due care. 

and with this...a sure and deep coherence. 

~

Peace, Eric 

The Art of Listening

The art of listening: 

I fell in love with mantra meditation due to its ease and the emphasis on relaxing to the sounds of a personal vibration, that no real effort is put forth, it's not a practice of concentration, nor the means of reaching specific states that are beyond our present nature. It's the art of listening, of accepting ourselves as we are right now, and with this we descend deeply beneath the currents of the mind, watchful, aware, being witness to life's motion until even this is let go and there is only the joy of simply being. 

and all this happens on its own.

again, it's the art of listening, returning always to the vibration of a primordial sound that echos through the soul. With this I don't mean a personal soul, but collective, universal in its inclusion. The mantra is a unique and distinct vibration, a word without true meaning other than its sound, and it unfolds within us a subtle thought, a faint impression that carries us to deeper levels of reality, quieter, quieter, and ever more quiet still...and then there's only listening. 

alone. 

with nothing found separate from the play of sounds and vibrations, seamless, life in chorus to itself.

a joyful art of being. 

listening. 

and the realization that this is always so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Morning Routine

My morning routine: 

even after years of cultivating my morning routine, adding new aspects, altering how certain things are done, it's surprising to me that I have this habit at all, rituals of performance hat help me start my day. More surprising still is the joy the morning holds for me, from mundane tasks of brushing my teeth and a splash of cold water on my my face, to the silence of meditation and the rush of ideas right after that follow me to my desk for an hours worth of writing - all of it, every small detail seems to bring a sense of joy and gratitude that I have this day to once more perform these acts of love. 

my morning routine is truly a ritual of joy.

my every act a prayer.

it's begins early, not so that I can fill this time with action, but to capture as much silence as possible, losing myself in these quiet hours, noting the softness of sounds that emerge, as if there's a sacred hush that holds sway across the morning world. My routine could be done at any hour really, granting myself a few more hours of sleep and I would still have a full and productive day. But than I would miss this silence and the opportunities it presents, a unique moment of meditating in that sacred hush, the inspiration that arrives with first light, and being able to catch the first birdsong of the morning. No, these are indeed holy hours for me and I wouldn't want to miss them. 

in truth, or at least for me, nothing I do each morning is routine or mundane, everything's an act of self-care or designed to highlight the joy of simply being alive, awake, and that I have this day ahead. I love every small detail, the entire ritual performed, making my bed (sloppily so, I'm afraid), brushing my teeth and now the new addition of oil pulling for the benefit it provides, meditating, sun salutation, coffee and writing at the temple of my desk and keyboards, the preparation of my breakfast - and still, just as the sun begins to rise...there's a walk to capture the moments of first light. 

indeed, every act is a prayer, grateful, 

another day's been given. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Our Sadhana

Our sadhana: 

" it cannot be helped, you cannot skip your sadhana...." these are the words said by Nisargadatta Maharaj to a seeker in the seminal classic I Am That. Here, he's urging the seeker to turn away from the outer world and look within to until it's seen how the inner world merges with its outer expression, to keep looking until there is no true difference between the two, one single world of seamless beauty. Our sadhana is a specific spiritual practice, it's often seen as a daily discipline of yoga and meditation, perhaps some form of prayer, or other means of cultivating a deep awareness of the mind. I believe that in this case Nisargadatta is recommending inquiry as a form of practice, telling the seeker to keep their focus beyond the conditioned view of consciousness, to see that nothing has an independent reality of its own, that existence itself depends upon the flow of events and objects that seem to give meaning to our lives. 

beyond conditions...

is truly who we are. 

but I've always loved that line, that we can't skip our sadhana, and really I see it more than meaning a formal spiritual practice. Our first and most significant practice is life itself, we cannot skip what is here and present even with distractions of a modern, busy world. Our practice is to live, it's our sadhana, and it provides its own discipline and order, grief and sorrow being foremost to cause us to turn within for answers. I think that what Nisargadatta is saying in that passage is that we cannot not skip the conditions of life that define us and that they are the very reason for our eventual inward turn. 

our practice is simply living. 

life. 

and as we turn within, deeply now, and seeing the two words merge as one within our view, life continues on, seamless, and our practice remains the same, we go on living, still touched by conditions, but somehow free as well from the permanent hold they once held. 

our sadhana is life...

and there is no need for us to escape this. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Holy Moments

A holy moment: 

mostly, it's the stillness within each pose that I'm looking for, knowing that it exist only through motion and balance and being unafraid of falling from this posture. This is what I commit to every morning, sun salutation and certain asanas that stretch my body and spirit to the point of letting go of all but that still-place found within. It's a moment where the breath softens to the point of bare notice, my heart slows its length between each beat to what feels eternal, and everything seems to exists in a pause of motion, just a pure silence now - as if the world suspends itself in worship to what's found. Yes, it's a holy moment, and lasting only briefly, even as it feels timeless in my hold. 

it's why I'm so drawn to early morning yoga...

there's magic in each pose. 

yet this magic doesn't always appear, that holy moment is often a fall from my reach of grace - yoga is the practice of falling from a pose and accepting it as a meaningful experience of my flow, not a disturbance or failure, but simply part of it's expression. It's all yoga, every aspect of my practice, accepting the fall as well as that brief and timeless point of magic, everything belongs.

and it's with this that I realize there really is no singular holy moment, not really, but that life proceeds through the grace of stillness as well as motion, seamless in its flow, magical by virtue of appearance. The holiness is found by letting go of the notion of both motion and stillness, success or failure within a pose, not searching for anything that isn't found right now. 

that's the true magic of each post.

they all proceed through holy moment.

~

Peace, Eric 

Politics

Politics: 

sometimes I'm tempted to wade into politics here, to write more of my own opinion on how I believe the world should be. I certainly have strong views and have arrived to this point by my own observations, contemplating the important issues of the day, and questioning the beliefs that I've inherited through the years. I've come to these views completely on my own, educated to the best I'm able, and have dismissed any tribal holds inherited from the past. 

and this grants me a certain freedom now. 

yet still I'm hesitant to share my views, at least here, being that I've reserved this space each morning to write almost solely on matters that concern spirit, points of meditation and breath, nature, and how we find ourselves fitting so seamless to the world, belonging, most importantly - the joy of simply being alive. This will often take the form of writing about science, or perhaps curiosities of the natural world that cause me to write in awe and wonder at how magnificent life can be. Sometimes, maybe most of all, I write of the mundane things that fill my days, a recent ode to the happiness and gratitude of the preparation of my morning oatmeal comes to mind. 

very little by way of politics here. 

this isn't really by design though, my writing is exclusive to inspiration, I remain open to whatever words arrive or theme that urges its expression. So I may write of politics, if ever the moment is inspired for it to happen, if the right words appear some morning with a desire to be written. But I think my political views are mostly known - I make no secret of how I treasure kindness and compassion, that empathy is a quality to be cherished, and how we are at are best when in service to others. My true political view is love; the type of love that Jesus spoke of in the Beatitudes, or the Buddha's discourse on compassion. My politics are deeper than beliefs, they're not really a view at all, but simply caring to the best of our abilities for the well-being of others. 

the least among us. 

lastly, I'm reminded of the now oft quoted words of Ramana Maharishi when asked of how others should be treated, and in this all living being are included. His heartfelt words...

there are no others.

and to the best that I'm able to truly see this...

that is my political view. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Birthday

My birthday: 

today draws me a bit more towards self-reflection, being my birthday, and maybe it's my age that brings me to look back and see things bittersweet, a past tinged with a certain sadness, a person mostly lost, wandering, and where this leads me now. Viewed through some metrics, society largely, my life has been largely unsuccessful, no real career to speak of, just low to mid management positions of retail, nothing that ever truly satisfied my spirit and barely paid the bills. My heart belonged to writing, drawn towards meditation and quiet contemplation while roaming trails through nature. I was a mystic in a busy world, but of course I didn't know this - the only thing I knew was feeling misplaced, not belonging, and being afraid of disappointing those I loved. 

it's odd how a slightly shift of focus changes the view, maybe just bit, yet it's enough to bring the world in focus. I was never really meant for a career, not the kind that's expected. Maybe none of us are meant for anything, or at least nothing specific and it's all a matter of luck and compromise, that by some good fortune a happy few find exactly what they're called to do, dharma perhaps, and that others settle for a path that simply occupies their time, pays well, and provides them some time away to truly feel alive. None of these seemed to be my option, so a wandered, different jobs, relationships, pursuing things that might might fulfill a passion but never quite being anything more than an interesting hobby. 

through the years of been a long distance hiker, an ultrarunner, many kinds of endurance athlete as well as training for strength events. My life has been very physical, it still is, I feel happiest when expressed as motion. Just as much, I'm called to stillness, the quietness of early morning meditation, a life given to spirit and writing of the soft, subtle things that seem to touch me deeply. I'm happy with this contradiction, a soul fully expressed through every means of living, motion and stillness truly being seen as one, not opposites, but simply life through all it offers. 

viewed as such...I've successfully been alive. 

happily so. 

so it's my birthday, I'm 58, and with a little self-reflection I see every shifting view, how my life plays out through the lens motion and stillness, how my feelings of being lost and not belonging have led to my surrender of every view that's held. The truth is, I've always, only, simply been alive, an aspect of life itself expressed in the sure exactness of all I've ever been and who I am right now. Nothing is wrong with my life, it's simply being displayed through infinite possibilities, and shows me as a seamless part of its expression. It's not about success or failure, it never has been, my dharma has always been to be alive, full of curiosity and wonder, exploring the world through the holiness of mystery. 

on my birthday, 

another moment to be alive, fulfilling my dharma...

happily so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Dogwood

Dogwood: 

it's usually the first burst of spring's arrival, at least to my notice and early hope of changing seasons, as the dogwood seems to bloom almost overnight in sudden white petals before settling into a deeper shade of green for later in the season. Their bloom is relatively short but full of beauty and meaning for me, that I know from its earliest white petals to its first hint of subtle green that the length of sunlight is growing longer, the days are warmer, and winter is now past even if it's bite is still present to the air. 

a dogwood's early bloom is my sign of ease from the heaviness of winter to lighter days ahead. With that first white bloom I know that the days will proceed to a greener world, brighter by sunlight and vast array of flowers. Life is more vibrant now, the cold slumber of winter brought forth an awakening of color and activity, it's all a celebration to the senses, a reward for previous harsher days of winter. 

a dogwood hints at this from early bloom. 

for me, it's the turn to green that offers most beauty, the bloom lost but its purpose served and now its shade darkens to the deepest green of life, absorbing  the nourishment of light and offering its color as a reflection of its thanks. What we see is life being given from the distance of the sun, an interaction of energy brought from source to visible wonder. If the early bloom is hope for spring's arrival than the darkening green is a sign of life's continuation through every change that lies ahead. Through first bloom and deepening shades, and yes, even the barren grasp of winter...

life always offers beauty.

the dogwood shows me this through every season.

~

Peace, Eric 

The Mantra

The mantra: 

it seems the first and most common belief in meditation is of an absolutely empty mind, an absence of all thought, and that the mantra is chanted for this deliverance, forcing the mind to stay on a certain track until this silence is achieved. In practice though, our mantra isn't chanted at all, but is only a soft vibration gently entered to the mind, being just a faint impression that roams a great expanse of an already present stillness and then leaves a trail for us to follow. This is a gentle action, only a thought, and it's the vibration alone that works on our behalf, without any forceful concentration or great effort needed on our part. We simply think the mantra, gently, easily...

carried by its vibration. 

and that's meditation, or at least a mantra method that I've practiced for almost 30 years now. It's a valuable and meaningful part of my day, the beginning and closing ritual of listening to this soft vibration of a word as it leads me to an ever deepening stillness. Of course this stillness is always present and meditation doesn't grant me a privilege that's not available to others. This is just a practice that I prefer, not really a method as it is a means of self-reflection, that I'm listening to the entirety of my existence vibrate as the mantra and not for any purpose or reason save the joy of simply listening. 

any benefits that follow are secondary to this joy.  

it's the mantra, vibrating, echoing throughout me...this is my reality.

at least for the moment that I'm listening. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Oatmeal

Oatmeal

oatmeal is the essence my morning practice, it's preparation and then the enjoyment of my first meal. This is a mindful activity, yet more so, it's a ritual of gratitude, a deep appreciation of nourishment and flavor and all that has had to happen across the world to bring this meal to me. I take no aspect of this for granted, not the oats grown organically and with care, nor the blueberries and bananas packed with flavonoids and antioxidants. Flax seed, walnuts, and just a touch of cinnamon add to this and provide further nutriments for the healthy function of my body. Everything is noted, just a brief nod of thanks for what's been give to me right now, a meal that's been offered directly from the earth and meant to nourish and heal. 

yes, oatmeal essence of my morning practice. 

my breakfast is soon after meditation, my fast extended just a bit for yoga and writing, coffee enjoyed at my desk as I write and listen to the morning stir itself awake. I've long settled into this routine, every part enjoyable and suits my early mood. My fast used to be longer, the first meal put off until late afternoon and this extended time agreed with my body, with many benefits found from this refrain. But the past few years have brought some changes that have caused me to end my fast early, still a lengthy time and one that builds in anticipation for my first meal. 

what I've found is that so soon after meditation, still early, just before sunrise, and my mind retains the quietness of my sitting, a mindfulness that arrives quite naturally, easily. It takes no effort for gratitude to be offered now, it's a seamless moment of deep appreciation from waking to the preparation of first meal. and further even through the day. It's spontaneous, lovingly so, and happens quite frequently as I make breakfast, perhaps the combination of meditation and long fast prepare my heart to be open to this joy. And this is a true and real joy, soul deep in it's appreciation, extending past the preparation of my meal to all that made this moment possible. It fills the world. 

oatmeal is the essence of my morning practice, a manifestation of my joy. 

and it happens naturally on its own. 

~

Peace, Eric 

I Am

I am: 

it's a simple message, and yet also the highest teaching of yoga, Nisargadatta Maharaj urged all who came to see him, those seeking liberation or even just an ease of suffering, to stay with the I am presence, to not stray their way into another concept or take on a new idea of who they might believe they are. It's a clear teaching, putting an immediate end to seeking - I am that - and nothing beyond this has a reality separate of its own, everything belongs as presence. 

of course we could spend a lifetime coming to know this. 

or, 

we could relax exactly as we are right now, without need of any understanding other than that we're whole, complete, residing in our perfect identity already. I'm not sure we need anything more than Nisargadatta's message, to just realize this I am presence and then allow life to proceed its course. This isn't an attainment, it's not something to strive for through effort or methods. 

it's what we are. 

the thing is, everything I say here could be completely wrong, with every point argued by someone who clearly knows more than me. Yet nothing negates presence, my own message isn't words or an explanation told in prose. I'm not a teacher, not enlightened, or in anyway liberated from a life that holds no small degree of suffering and sorrow - 

but...I am. 

and it's this that I return to, easily so, this beingness, alive, aware, and unmistakable. Amazingly, this presence never fails me, always available, resting here for my every stray belief to return home. Truly, there is nothing that I really need to do - I am - and life proceeds from here. 

~

peace, Eric  

Internal Dialogue

Internal dialogue: 

there's a particular day I remember from my childhood, I recall sitting on a hill with a friend, enjoying the warmth and sun, without care or even thought to anything past this moment. It wasn't contentment, as that would involve a comparison of other moments, it was simply being joyful, alive, happy without any cause or reasons. I'm sure there were many such moments in my childhood, not having any true concerns or worries, innocent of internal dialogue to judge my world. 

just pure existence.

beingness. 

but what I remember most about this moment is the beginning of a process that was to be unrelenting for so many years after, a trigger pulled, and that somehow I would now possess a claim to every passing thought, my identity was born. It's a weirdly vivid memory, hearing a voice within my head and instantly claiming it as my own, that is who I am, and mostly, from that moment on, I believed myself to be the content of those thoughts, a certain innocence lost. I now possessed an internal dialogue, beliefs soon followed, stories told of how I wished the world would be, comparisons and judgement. Not instantly, all of this took time and developed through the course of years - but it all begin that moment of claiming a thought as my own, that first voice of a lasting dialogue. 

of course nothing really changed, beingness remained, there was always, only pure existence. Yet everything seemed different, there was truly an innocence lost, my world was now filled with commentary, not always bad, often comforting, but always with comparison as to how I thought everything should be, or with a wish for life to remain exactly to my comfort. 

my was life informed by this dialogue. 

and I believed most every thought. 

well, maybe not, because I remembered that moment the dialogue was born, more so, the innocence before remained with me, resurfaced from time to time, reminding me of that easiness of simply, joyfully being alive. That's what drew me to meditation, to self-inquiry, and a love for the deep silence of my nature. Nothing was ever really lost, just forgotten, misplaced by a lifetime of believing every passing thought as being truly my own. 

here's what's true - there is no actual thinker, no person separate from the world. There are thoughts, energy-clouds, passing through the blue sky nature of the mind. The internal dialogue happens, arising on its own, possessing no reality other than the story that it tells. It's not our voice, not really, and we don't need to believe it's every word, nor do anything to make it leave us. It's imaginary, a passing phantom, and once seen as so...

our innocence is remembered. 

~Peace, Eric 

Life is Poetry

Life is Poetry: 

usually it's the first few thoughts that occur to me as I near the keyboards, that's what I write about, nothing planned, and it's just a free flow of ideas until a theme begins to develop. I consider it all lyrical prose, poetry in the sense that I search for a natural rhythm of words, being most concerned with flow and phrases that have a certain beauty of their own. In someways I could say that this is channeled writing, directly from some inner source that calls for it's expression. My role is to simply show up each morning, willing to set my own agenda aside, listening, and writing the words that are so easily given. 

like right now, with these words, and still I have no idea on this will unfold. 

so it's about faith, trusting in a process that serves me daily and has done so for decades now. I know that words will appear, but I have to be ready to receive them, rituals performed. These aren't done with the purpose of invoking inspiration, not really, that's more the effect that seems to emerge from meditation, from my breathwork, and morning Sun Salutation - these are rituals done with no purpose other than the joy they provide completely on their own, nothing needs to be derived from their performance. 

yet truly, my morning is transformed. 

my entire life is poetry in a sense, a natural rhythm of stillness and motion, silence and ideas, and nothing's been none to achieve this. It's just how things flow, for all of us, and we only have to notice how life plays in themes of inspiration. Yes, sometimes, maybe often, there's sorrow, that we suffer loss and life will be a struggle. Life is poetry, it tells a story through these themes, and there is a rhythm present here too if only we take notice, being mindful of  the current story told. My morning ritual reminds me to listen to the theme that's playing through my life right now, it delivers words that help me express it, an aid to healing and finding joy within the present moment. 

no matter what theme is currently playing now. 

it's all poetry. 

and the first few thoughts that occur to me this morning...

remind me that it's so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Single Cup

Single cup: 

it seems that my single cup of coffee each morning  has become a ritual of deep appreciation, a moment of gratitude for it's flavor and warmth and it's sure ability to wake me for the day ahead. Not too long ago I would drink several cups a day, each proceeding one being less beneficial and more of a habit of design, not a ritual but a craving for its constant stimulation. For several reasons it suited me to cut back, just that single cup, prepared right after my sun salutations, my day greeted proper, and then I'm ready for coffee and my early morning writing. It's with drinking less coffee that my awareness grows in consideration to what I have, knowing that it's a self imposed restriction and that I'm always free to drink more adds to my joy, it's this one that's been selected  for the ritual of morning and my attention is drawn to the taste that it offers, steam rising from the cup, and being best appreciated in mindful sips of pleasure. 

a single cup, so deeply enjoyed. 

and this cutback of a habit has caused me to examine other aspects of my life, things that have always escaped my attention, or have never been given their true notice and appreciation. I find that each morning seems to call for me to be grateful for one more action performed, adding my thanks to almost every task involved for the beginning of the day, my single cup of coffee now entwined as an event of deep joy to all that life offers. Truly, it feels as if my entire day expands from just one mindful moment, how everything connects in a magical, seamless order, unfolding in a display of mystery and wonder.

from a single cup of coffee, so deeply enjoyed...

my world expands. 

~

Peace, Eric 

My Practice

My practice: 

my practice is yoga, meditation, pranayama in set times of day as well as when needed. I have a dedicated health and fitness regime, follow a plant-based diet and consider myself vegan for ethical reasons. As well I make a point of spending time in nature, daily, walking and running along with simply pausing to allow the wind, trees, and sun to speak to be, to inspire and heal, informing me of my place within the natural world. My day is structured around these practices, one seamless to the next without much thought needed to their performance, not any longer, this is truly how my life flows. 

and yet done of this makes a difference. 

nor is it supposed to.

I've long since surrendered any notion of self improvement let alone enlightenment, what I practice is for the sake of joy and well-being I derive from the performance alone. It's enough for me to meditation, thinking the mantra, deeper levels of a quiet mind found, and then the creativity that's sparked by this silence. Yoga and breath work improve my overall health and fitness, I'm limber and strong, breathing easy with a low resting heart rate and blood pressure in the healthy range. My diet too gives me the satisfaction that my health isn't compromised by cruelty of factory farming. These are results, benefits, and yet the joy is found within the time of actual practice, appreciating the suppleness of stretching and the feel of life coursing through my body, or how the mantra seems to carry me to silence through the trail of its vibration. Nothing more has to come from this, enlightenment doesn't need to follow, my practice is simply for the joy of the moment alone. 

anything else is a bonus. 

so really,life is my practice, the things I do with purpose and intent, being mindful of actions without dwelling on how they might unfold or the direction they'll lead me. It all feels pretty seamless to me know, not a practice at all but just how my life flows, full of curiosity and wonder, immersed in mystery without any desire to seek or know a true and certain answer. It's enough to be alive, aware of this fragile moment and how it's changing even now, always now, and that whatever's present can be cherished only for its gift of motion and the realization that things will never be this exact display again. 

all the wisdom and insights ever needed are found within this moment. 

my practice is in simply being aware and alive. 

and it requires no practice at all. 

~

Peace,Eric

A Joyful Participant

A joyful participant: 

to let the theme appear, easily so, and not assert my will upon the page - that's generally how I approach my morning writing, dismissing most impulses that first rise to my mind, settling, and seeing what emerges from this field of always present silence. My best writing seldom feels like my own, meaning that I can make no claim for its inspired flow of words. Really, it happens on its own, I'm a joyful participant, receiving words from wherever they were held before and only later do I get for my role. As an author, I'm simply a conduit for the play of words and how inspiration wishes they unfold. 

this is mostly how my life seems to go, being a joyful participant, allowing a theme to appear and working with whats been given to me now. Yes, it might be a thread of sorrow, or to find myself suffering through a longer bout of depression - yet still I'll say that I'm a joyful participant through it all, not overtly so, my celebration is within the act of simply being alive and having this once only opportunity to be expressed exactly so, understanding that everything is changing and will never again be as they are right now. My joy is within being expressed, this unique pattern of my existence, and with a bittersweet knowing of how brief this appearance is, temporary in all but the motion of its change. 

so I let the words arrive to me, just the right way, no effort to be clever or insightful, no need to apply myself to any serious pursuit of ideas. I'm a joyful participant here, and the entire process flows completely through my morning, no aspect being separate from another, a sip of coffee just as inspired as first word, everything emerging from the same source of mystery. 

even my claim to be the author. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Soft Awakening

Soft awakening: 

think of it as a soft awakening, gentle, continuous in a way - there's no ultimate knowledge gained, no sense of self permanently erased. What's seen is that everything comes and goes through an allowing field of awareness, and there's no need to make this into any grand claim of enlightenment. It's just the way things are, the way they've always been, and we've only failed to notice. 

this soft awakening...and life continues on.

of course there's other ways too, different and deeper insights, and some will argue that their's is the only way for reality to be displayed, that enlightenment has been reached and their most meaningful questions have been completely answered. Who's to say otherwise? Honestly, if anyone finds a lasting sense of joy and true contentment than I'm happy for them and find no reason to argue against their view. What others gain or lose in a spiritual sense is not my concern at all. For me, life flows on through this soft awakening, a continuous wonder, always a mystery, and I'm simply inspired to write and share how life appears to me right now. 

I claim only this soft awakening...

nothing more.

it's enough for me. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Of Being

Of being: 

so I'm struck once again with how easy life is for me, of course not the often complicated acts of my daily affairs, but the ease in simply existing, of being an aspect of life that spontaneously appears from the force of particles gathering as atoms and continues on in supply of an entire world for me to live. There wasn't a single thing for me to do here, no effort given, not even a thought for my appearance to form. 

it all just happened on its own. 

a true miracle of being. 

remembering this seems to put me immediately at ease, that the true fundamentals are ultimately cared for by a deeper wisdom, that my body responds to some inner command of breath and heartbeat, blood flowing exactly where it's needed, and that even the environment supports me with an abundance of air and the proper distance form the sun for plants to grow and provide my daily need of food. I am truly cared for, supported with all I need to thrive as an aspect of life itself. 

and I try and take none of this for granted, I am grateful to my core, and do my best to show this in some way - offering a thankful prayer for the breakfast I prepare, appreciating the ease of which my body performs a difficult yoga posture, noting the breath arriving through the grace of air. None of this is taken for granted, not the simple things, nor the difficulties too, actions that take more effort or fill me with concern. I am grateful to exist, to be aware that this is so, and that all of life, every aspect, has been gifted to me somehow. 

yes, a true miracle of being. 

life itself, happening completely on its own. 

a gift. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Deepest Joy Of Green

Deepest joy of green: 

springtime, and every year it seems like such a long wait for it to reach me - it's April, and warmer days are finally here, longer, and I bask in the extra light that's given, spending more time on my walks and runs, grateful to lose the layers of clothing that served me through the winter and that I'm now able to give myself more fully to the sun. I truly love this time of year, being right on the cusp of the world literally exploding in its deepest joy of green, and with the splash of flowers arrayed brightly throughout the verdant landscape. 

 earth shows me it's alive.

winter's been more difficult these past few years, harder for me to gain any lasting warmth and harder still to experience any joy. Spring has become even more significant to me now, bringing a meaningful warmth that reaches past bones and into soul, my interior landscape awakening in its own deepest joy of green, a verdant display that matches what the season brings. 

springtime shows me I'm alive. 

and so every day I note the hue of earliest buds and first leaf reaching for that extra sunlight. I am displayed by their colors, expressed through a flower's blossom, my soul warmed by spring's breeze even as it still holds a bit of winter in its touch. I've emerged through a cold depth that seemed to hold so very little color, it's springtime now, sunlight having extra hours...

and the earth shares its deepest joy of green.

~

Peace, Eric 

To Practice Gratitude

To practice gratitude: 

there are different ways for us to practice gratitude, a mindful approach, or keeping a journal to list the many things we have that often slip our mind as being gifts. Anything that reminds us that life is rich in giving and that we are so fortunate to receive its many blessing is a worthwhile endeavor. A practice is simply a cultivation of thoughts, habits, that serve us in some useful, practical way - and being grateful, mindfully so, has benefits far beyond its measure. The practice itself is far reaching in what it offers us, from it's immediate effect of a smile for what's present, to pain relief, increasing health and lifespan, easing depression, and actually altering the brain in a way that improves the quality of our thinking. It's amazing to consider that just by being aware of all that we've been given, and then life showers us with even more in a subtle, yet meaningful fashion.

yes, there are different ways to practice gratitude, all being worthy of our consideration, but my favorite is when it just spontaneously arrives, unbidden, and fills me with an inner smile that seems to reach directly from my soul and overflows to touch the world. It's unexpected, yet no longer rare, as it occurs now throughout my day, odd moments of such deep appreciation that I'm forced to pause and give note to its arrival. I find that I'm grateful for its appearance, a gift of appreciating what's present and how it found its way into my life, being thankful for the ability to give thanks and basking in the glow of simply being happy. It's not so much a practice any longer as it an event, just noticing it as it happens, and being touched by this small, important joy. 

to practice gratitude takes no real effort at all - notice the breath, freely given, and the abundance of air readily pressed against our lips, eager, and the ease in which it's drawn. There it is, our practice, one long breath lovingly considered...

and the countless ones that have come before.

yet this one,presently taken,

being grateful to receive. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Where I Address the Hard Problem

Where I address the hard problem: 

this is where I address the hard problem of consciousness - my own thought is that there isn't any cause for separation here, that the question itself is misplaced in even asking of its source. Whatever answer is given stands correct in a certain way as everything is the source of consciousness, being sure that it's a biological function, caused by a chemical reactions within the brain, as well as a builtin function of universal intent and design. It's all consciousness, an arrangement of infinite points, seamless in their actions, and that we emerge, somehow, from this creative field of possibilities. 

that every theory of consciousness is correct in its own way. 

even mine. 

and of course I'm certainly wrong, with no way of really knowing how things ultimately are - all I can offer is a description of my own observation brought through countless mornings of deep meditation. Yet that doesn't make it true, and I'm in no way invested in it being so. But it does give me something to write of, an opportunity to be creative with ideas and inspirations. This is where I address the hard problem of consciousness through my own words and understanding, and my view is as valid as any ever offered before, and honestly, it doesn't seem to be a problem much as all...

consciousness is. 

and everything is cause for its emergence.

to even ask why is a task of endless inquiry - the answer is always because of happy accident as well as being evolution, that it's exactly how the universe was designed and we are simply part of its necessary function. Through inquiry we regress to mystery, every point being valid and yet not an ultimate cause at all, proof of our own innocence of answers and free of speculation. Here, life, consciousness...is simply happening, with no reason save its own appearance. 

it's exactly how things are. 

and of course I'm certainly wrong.

but this morning, here, invited by an empty page...this is where I address the hard problem of consciousness.

unconcerned with being right or wrong.

just happily inspired. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Oddly Funny

Oddly funny: 

what I have now is a sense that not everything needs to be specific to my needs, or even bend towards my comfort and understanding. I am more apt to leave things alone, finding ease with life exactly as it is and not fill the world with my opinion. Of course the irony is that I'm at once more creative and inspired, with words rushing to my fingers eager to be written, and I share them freely through the pages here. It's a paradox in a way, and that's part of what I've come to accept - that life flows in oddly funny ways, mysterious...

and I am simply part of its expression. 

with this I find that I'm more restful, at ease with the way things are even as I might have a wish for some circumstances to change. I have more faith in motion now, knowing that no situation is lasting and that my every moment is fluid, already in the midst of becoming something other. It's oddly funny, clinging to what's present even as it's changing, or refusing to accept that a most cherished gift won't last. That's our sorrow, forgetting that life is constant motion, and that's why even as the world is seen as flowing with grace and a rhythm of purpose...it's tinged by a certain sadness too. 

oddly funny how everything belongs, seemingly a paradox.

But really, just a mystery.

and so I write, every morning, whatever words spontaneously appear, sharing it all as its been given. It's how things are right now, and I'm grateful for how my life unfolds, being oddly funny in so many ways, touched by sadness too, and that everything seems to belong at once, not a true contradiction at all - but simply life, flowing, mysterious, seamless. 

being always motion. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Trails

Trails: 

I've spent a lot of time on trails, racing and training, adding my footsteps to the infinite numbers before mine, and all the while it's been without a true destination. It's an odd thing to consider in a race, especially one of longer distance, that it's traveling on the trail itself that's the victory, being present to wherever we are between the point of start and finish, and that right here, the step we're taking now, is always exactly where we're meant to be. If we think of trails only as a line that marks our journey across a landscape, or that it's simply a racecourse that provides our steps a challenge, we miss out on the most meaningful aspect of all...

trails are our connection to earth, and that each footstep is our only sure destination. Trails aren't a pathway across distance, although that certainly is the appearance, the reality is that we are called to travel them not by footsteps alone but by heart as well, by soul really, with the only true connection being a deep belonging to the earth, each step a reassurance that we're already home, an arrival without start or finish. The trail is it's own destination. 

here' now...known by every footstep. 

and that's the urge of every trail and pathway, not to travel, or at least not primarily so, but to place ourselves in the midst of our own present landscape. Nothing else is asked of us, not to reach a final point, or to see how fast or far our travel, to just be conscious of where we are in the only way we're truly meant to be...

that the trail itself is our connection. 

there is nowhere else but here.

now, always, only, 

now.

~

Peace, Eric