Breath and Pose

Breath and pose: 

of course yoga is more than mere exercise, and although most of us probably know this on a basic level, there might not be a recognition of just how deep this path of transformation truly is. Yoga is the path of change, subtle, without any conscious effort to be transformed. It really happens on it's own. That's really the key point here, that yoga most truly is an act of surrender, simply committing ourselves to breath and pose, risking our balance for the briefest sense of poise, as if the entire universe rose to the occasion of coming to our aide, holding us, gravity suspended for just an instant. 

we are transformed by the mystery of the pose. 

 and even the simplest asana has this magic. 

yogic psychology talks of the three gunas, attributes, basic qualities and tendencies that we seem to be born to, inherent in our very nature. Broadly speaking these are sattva, rajas, tamas - or purity, individual concern, and impurity. We are each a play of all of these qualities, they make up the fabric of the universe and have a role in the creation of a balanced life. Our yoga practice brings this to light, a psychological process of revealing the qualities that we possess, and how might fins ourselves unbalanced in our approach to life. We use the process of breath and pose to bring ourselves to center, a purifying effect that slowly favors sattva and yet allows for the balanced points of the other two gunas as well. 

we are transformed by breath and pose. 

without any effort to change at all. 

even one asana has this magic. 

~

Peace, Eric 

 Asana practice:

my asana practice is twice daily, an early morning session, before sunrise, gentle throughout, and it’s main purpose is to wake my body and give thanks for the coming day. It’s focused around sun salutation and a few key poses that will open my body’s energy channels, preparing for the day ahead.

my actual yoga practice begins with first moment of awakening, a short chant of Om, three times, vibrations reaching through the morning. It’s a prayer really, just one to show how grateful I am to be alive, waking up to another morning. This is followed by breathwork, mediation, and then my asana practice. These are separate events, yoga, but it’s worth making the distinction — yoga is the overall theme of life, it’s the art and practice of being alive, and everything fits into its practice. My asana sessions are an aspect of this overall theme, distinct, yet not the main point of yoga at all.

yoga is the practice of life.

afternoons are reserved for a longer asana session, devoted to cultivating light, energy, and a restful sense of awareness. There is motion, exertion, and then always a brief repose, my body working through it’s natural stress response of effort followed by relaxation. This is the hatha yoga of asanas, a valuable practice that guides my life.

late afternoon is my last meditation session and then a slow unwind towards evening. Whatever falls between these sessions is yoga too, a practice, navigating through life on the terms that each moment presents to me, not always arguing for my demands and preferences. That’s the wonderful thing about yoga, mistakes fit in seamlessly to the path, natural, and life shows that it’s self-correcting, always and immediately moving onward in a steady flow. My asana practice highlights this so clearly, how I so easily fall from any pose and yet still have the opportunity to simply try again.

there’s no need to be perfect.

yoga is simply practice.

it’s life.

~

Peace, Eric

Sarvangasana

 

Sarvangasana:

as difficult as halasana, the plow pose, has been for me, it seems somewhat surprising that sarvangasana would be a pose I feel quite comfortable in, holding it for whatever length of time I have set in mind with little issues at all. This is the shoulder-stand posture, often referred to as the queen of asanas because of its many benefits to the mind and body. It’s a wonderful inversion and allows me a new perspective of the world, a moment where my view is flipped towards my entire body reaching skyward.

a new perspective indeed.

for some reason I immediately took to this pose, my feet shooting towards the ceiling at first try right after I read the instructions. I wasn’t yet in my teens, but already there was an interest in yoga, and with a purchase of a book I began to practice poses that I learned. This would often last for weeks at a time before my curiosity would be drawn elsewhere, a new project would emerge and my imagination would be captivated by it. I would always return to yoga though, another long period of practice before the entire cycle would repeat itself once more. Finally, in my mid-twenties, there became a passion for yoga that’s barely wavered since. A life long journey had begun when my feet reached into the air with sarvangasana, a new perspective gained.

and my world has never been the same.

I love that halasana follows my stronger pose of shoulder-stand, that I’m immediately humbled and placed in an uncertain position. Even after all these years I’ve yet to gather any confidence in my attempts at plow pose, although honestly I favored those poses that played to my strengths and only glossed over those that challenged me. Or at least those poses that produced a subtle sense of fear that would only seem to grow larger through the time they were held. I know feel ready to work this fear, gently so, not confronting with a challenge to hold these postures, but to ease into their position, open myself to discovering what secrets they might offer.

it’s a way of rediscovering the mystery of the body.

sarvangasana provides me a certain energy that guides me through this fear, approaching the very next pose with a sense of confidence that allows me to explore the present limits of my mind and body, gently opening myself to the edge of this discomfort and then perhaps spending just a bit of time there. My perspective has been shifted from my time in sarvangasana, with fear no longer an issue to be avoided.

there’s something to be leaned here, something vital.

and I’m ready, finally, to discover what it is.

~

Peace, Eric

Halasana

 Halasana:

there are a few poses that have always been difficult for me to perform, most of these asanas, through diligent practice, I’ve been able to work through and reach a point where I am at least satisfied with my ability to hold them. A few poses, I have set aside, no longer including them in my practice, believing their benefits being less than the amount of work I wish to invest in them. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The plow pose, Halasana has been one of those, although I’ve paid it a cursory use as a stretch, not being mindful of form, and quickly moving through it without commitment as a practice. Yet now I find myself drawn to it for that very reason, realizing that there’s been a certain amount of fear present for me here, a deep presence held through my next and spine that refuses to release me in this postures full expression.

and I’ve decided to work with this.

or maybe more truly,

I’ve been drawn to release this fear.

it seems strange to me that I’m able to perform Sarvangasana, should-stand, without fear or difficulty, even from my earliest days of yoga, almost immediately holding the pose with strength and confidence. Yet to lower my legs behind my neck from this position invokes a sense of unease, my spine locked in inflexibility that isn’t present in any other pose. I’m just unable to fully commit to it, at least not in its proper form, and being unsatisfied with this only feed into the anxiety and causes me to release holding it through to finish.

fear.

I’ve been afraid of working with halasana.

and this is absolutely fine, perfect really, as now it truly becomes a practice. I’m committed to working with this fear, not just through it, or seeking to conquer it in anyway. But to befriend it, seeking to know its presence in my body and listen to what’s been hidden here for all these many years. The practice of yoga, true practice, is one of patience, a slow process of discovering secrets of the body/mind.

I’m committed to this asana.

for now, halasana is my complete practice, everything else letting up to it as a helpful aid of focus and attention. I’m not seeking to master this pose, I’m not at all interested in perfection, but to only understand the secret that it holds, a wish to befriend the fear that’s present in my body and allow it to be expressed in a more meaningful way.

halasna is now my practice.

until I finally hear it’s message.

~

Peace, Eric

Alchemy of Writing

 

Alchemy of writing:

some mornings have a certain kind of energy that seems to prevent an easy settling down, more distractions presents, and my rhythm seem slightly off. There’s all kinds of things that call me from the page, none of which are even slightly important and yet they are just enough to momentarily keep me from the page.

it’s a natural part of writing.

there’s no real tricks here, no methods that I know of that will draw a writer back to the task at hand. It’s a certain kind of energy, different than most mornings, and all a writer can do is recognize its presence and work within the boundaries that if offers. What’s not required is effort, or at least an undue amout of stress to force some concentration. This will only drive inspiration further from the page, changing the energy from the nervousness of distraction to one of feeling blocked from our creative source.

what I do – is work with the energy that’s present.

without demands for any change.

content with what I have right now.

and everything changes completely on its own.

that’s the alchemy of writing, not believing that I have to dictate the right conditions for inspirations to be given, free of all distractions, but simply being willing to wait for things to change. It’s about working with the energy that’s present, and even a single word on the page begins the magic of transformation.

nothing needs to be different than it is.

everything is already changing, shifting, creating a different type of energy. So this is what I work with, these ever changing conditions…

the alchemy of writing.

words appearing…completely on their own.

~
Peace, Eric

Yoga is an Art From

Yoga is an art form: 

it's been a deep dive into yoga lately, even after decades of practice I find there's end to this depth, truly infinite in how it can be expressed and my only true goal is to continue its expression - fully committed to how it might be shown through every aspect of my life. 

yoga is an art form really, and life is the medium, more so, my body is a series of brushstrokes, lines, endlessly displayed through various postures. I'm working with energy, alignment, getting a pose just right for my own particular body and how it moves right now, giving great consideration to its limits, as well as the possibilities for a new display. 

my only true goal is creativity. 

working with the brushstrokes of my body. 

what I find is that the breath provides the steadiness for each body-line, that I am breathed into a posture and that it's held for however many breaths as needed for its potential to be shown. 

not a single breath more. 

a temporary line of body and form. 

yoga is an art form.

~

Peace, Eric 

Another Kind of Challenge

Another kind of challenge: 

much of my yoga practice is now centered around relaxation, postures that bring a deep rest to the body such as savasana (corpse pose) and balasana (child's pose) - the sequences of poses is designed for effort of a longer held asana, or a series of asanas, followed by some time spent in complete relaxation. It's quiet a change for me as much of my background is based on motion, strenuous activity, and even my previous yoga routine was based upon a physical effort all the way though. Really, it's another kind of challenge, one of least effort, similar to my practice of mantra meditation, where stress is reduced to a proper position of holding a pose and then completely letting go into whatever the breath and body then offers. It's a beautiful style of practice, classical Hatha Yoga, ancient. 

exactly what I need right now. 

what I've discovered is the deep grief my body has held for so long, an accumulation of sorrow, from my mother's long decline through Alzheimer's until her death, divorce, and then caring for my father as he passed away at home - years of stress stored through the fibers of my body, unexpressed even as I believed that I was grieving fully. It seems the body stores this kind of energy, knitted through muscle and all the way to bones and deeply into cells. Through this yoga practice my body is tensed through a particular asana and then allowed a chance to process the exertion, a counter balance, and so much is released through this period if relaxation. It's deeply restful, and yet also scary in a way. I know that my body is now able to release decades of stored emotion, freely expressing the scars brought by the sorrows of a lifetime. I'm not sure I'm always ready for what's just beneath the surface, the next layer that's released to be examined in the light of new awareness. 

it's another kind of challenge. 

and exactly what I need right now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

A Yogi

A yogi: 

I am not a yogi of drastic poses, being unable to place my leg behind my head, do a proper headstand, or even sit for any length of time in Lotus pose. Yet I am faithful to my practice and have been so for many years, decades actually. What I've discovered is that balance of striving for a perfect pose while accepting my limits of the present moment, doing what my body allows right now without any sense of failure as to what's accomplished. My challenge isn't in the length of time that I hold any posture, now is it found by the difficulties of any one pose - the challenge is met by my commitment to uncover what the posture holds for me at the moment I approach it, discovering that perfect point of poise that each pose offers, if only for an instant, fleeting, yet a possibility to be shown. 

I am a yogi of commitment. 

regardless of the pose. 

more so, I deeply love my practice. Twice daily, well before dawn for sun salutations to greet another day, an afternoon practice to follow that's longer and more involved through the series of postures. Through all of this though, there is a commitment to the principle of least effort, meaning that I give myself fully to each pose, but only with the exact amount of energy required, without undue strain to reach any position, while leaving my mind as tranquil as possible. 

I let the posture tell me what to do. 

and then move on, 

it's become that simple for me now, not easy, it's still a physical event, requiring muscle, skill, and no small amount of grace involved. Yet I give only what the posture asks for, nothing more than my commitment to the moment that I hold any particular pose, having learned by now to listen to the wisdom of body, mind, as well as the asana. 

finally...

a yogi after all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Entirety of Yoga

Entirety of yoga: 

it might be odd that I am taking a yoga teacher course and yet I have no desire to ever instruct a class, no wish to have a studio full of students rapt in attention for anything I might show. I don't want to be that kind of teach, although I have much respect for those was do this so skillfully. I find myself wanting to be a more quiet type of teacher, discussing the entirety of yoga, the simplicity of its message. The asanas are an important aspect, a means to a joyful, healthy body, as well as opening up channels to a larger energy at hand. They are invaluable to the complete picture. 

yet they are not the entirety of yoga. 

 sometimes I think they could be though, maybe with one particular pose that has captured our attention, opening the whole body in an energetic fashion, and we find ourselves lost in an untold devotion, completely absorbed in the practice of this one pose.

that would be the entirety of yoga. 

what I would like to teach is the possibility that this is so, that any one pose holds the promise of a complete practice. The lesson is really ours alone and can't be taught by anyone, only pointed towards with a single pose, or a flow of asanas that bring us the the brink of surrender and one more soft breath taken would become our final letting go. 

mostly I want people to have their own practice, perhaps a routine for morning, body awakening to rising sun, and with a deep knowing that we will be cared for through the rest of day, that this moment carries onward through the peace that's now been created. 

really though, what I wish to teach can't t be taught, not truly so, but only pointed towards through our practice of asanas, breathwork, and meditation. We are opening ourselves to the potentiality of what each pose offers us, their promise of awakening, and touching an infinite point of light and energy. The practice is our alone, every asana is our teacher. 

and that's the entirety of yoga. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Breath and Body

Breath and body:

I'm now in a yoga teacher training course, not so much to eventually be a teacher, at least not in a group or class setting, but to deepen my own practice and be able to present it to others as means of exploring this ancient healing system together. Yoga has been part of my life for decades, since I was a boy really, having discovered a book designed to teach yourself and practicing diligently the postures, breathing, meditation, and even the philosophy that was mentioned in the text. Of course, as a kid, my attention would soon be drawn to another curiosity, yet I always seemed to return to the mystery that yoga offered me, an avenue of self-exploration that was offered through its practice. 

and now I wish to share it. 

but I think most of all, I just want to continue that self-exploration through yoga, finding the essence of breath and posture in a deepening hold as the mind quiets and my body fairly hums in the subtle energy of prana. Yoga is the path of transformation, not to be traveled towards an end goal, as there really is no final destination, it's that we're revealed as a truer version of ourselves with every pose, transformed by our very own breath and body. 

and that's what I wish to share. 

not as a teacher...but as a fellow explorer of an infinite path of being. 

so I write about it, talk on videos made for social media, again not teaching, just simply offering my own exploration of yoga, a version told through my breath and body. I have no idea where this will take me, or how I might be called to express my practice. That's the mystery of yoga, its path always leading deeper into the unknown, opening both breath and body to ever more subtle realms. Yoga is a continuous story being told through its practice, each posture through every session is another chapter written. 

this is what I wish to share, 

~

Peace, Eric 

First songbirds: 

it's before even the first songbirds of dawn chorus are awake - and there's only the sound of insects chirping in communication, coming closer to the pond I hear bullfrogs in a hoarse call and respond across the water. There's an occasional car heard faintly in the distance and I know there's about an hour at best before this sound increases, becoming almost angry in its intensity, effecting the quality of the morning with the growing rush of traffic. But right now, not even the first songbirds are awake, not quite ready to give their earliest note to the morning air...

yet soon, 

and I always see if I can capture that initial note, being at the very beginning of a day full of songs, seeing if my attention will be sharp enough to pinpoint the exact instant of dawn chorus and how it will then carry through the morning. It never seems to happen this way though, how it comes to me slowly as a surprise and finding that I've been hearing their song play for an untold length of time. The dawn chorus eases into song, completely natural to the ears, and with each note given so seamlessly to the air that it takes me a moment to realize that they haven't always been present. 

that's the magic of these quiet hours, a silence so holy that even the dawn chorus waits for an auspicious occasion to offer their initial note, being tentative at first, as if testing the quality of air to see if it will hold the weight of the song that's about to follow. It's this very moment that I hope will capture my attention, an initial note offered to the morning hours...

being the exact instant silence lends itself to their song. 

my walks begin with this listening.

and yet,

it seems I'm always taken by surprise be those seamless notes emerging. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Two Owls

Two owls: 

predawn walks, and with the absence of light it's the sounds that I note most, first the insects, and then as I near the pond and streams there's the bullfrogs croaking in their hoarse song. It's not yet time for the songbirds, I'm too early even for the dawn chorus to begin their warm notes. Sometimes those first few tentative calls escape my notice and it's only later that I realize I'm now hearing their song, so easily do they begin to play and seamless slide into my conscious mind. But yesterday morning was devoted to two owls in discourse, trading their hoots across come unmeasured distance and drawing me towards them as well, a hopeless task of tracking by sound, never quite being able to pinpoint their location. 

yet I tried, and found myself ever nearer...

captivated by their call. 

I truly love the mystery of these early mornings - how a fox will suddenly appear, emerging from a thickets edge, giving me a curious glance before seamlessly vanishing back into the woods, so easy in her motions that I barely notice that's she now gone. My two owls trading their hoots is another reminder of why I'm up so early, drawn into the experience of their call, approaching them completely on their terms, and just trying to understand their language without translation into words. It's enough that my body responds, my soul stirs in it's own understanding, not needing a direct translation. 

being  simply urged towards them...

captivated.

drawn. 

ever deeper into mystery. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Yoga of Earliest Light

Yoga of earliest light: 

it's the yoga of earliest light, not yet true dawn, but gathering close and with the world now visible for me to navigate with a greater ease. My walks begin before there's even a hint of sunlight with my purpose being to be outside and have it greet my eyes in stages, causing a chemical shift of mood and healthy function of the body - more though, it's yoga, my own internal sun salutation of welcome and deep gratefulness of being alive and meeting another sunrise. 

it's the yoga of earliest light.

a union of sunlight and soul...happening each morning. 

my only role is to be present as the sun rises, allowing it's light to reach me with its own ease, no sense of striving for me to find it. Yoga is a natural expression of reality, a continuous occurrence of shifting visual affairs, eventually meeting in full display of it's original union. It's the first light of sunrise later showing itself as the brightness of midday, as well as its surrender to the night's embrace. What's shown is that it's all one thing in constant greeting to itself, reality in a continuous play of separation, and that yoga is simply the reminder of our innate wholeness.

a reunion. 

and so I find myself walking first in darkness, an hour before dawn, yet there's a sense of light gathering now, not yet on the horizon, but near, with a hint coming in the stir of animals from their night beds and the first notes from songbirds filling the air. This is my sun salutation, away from the mat, and no less than an asana too, a stretch that's far reaching to the very east of my existence, greeting the sun's arrival...

the yoga of earliest light. 

~

Peace, Eric 

As Mystery

As mystery: 

who am I? That's the classic inquiry, it's the question we ask ourselves repeatedly, diving deep within consciousness for an answer, and never settling until we reach a point of knowing ourselves as mystery. Of course there's other themes to this question, asking what am I, or where am I, serves our purpose too. The inquiry, regardless of question, always comes to the same conclusion - 

we are the mystery without a final answer.

or so it seems to me. 

my own inquiry, of which I practice still for the sheer pleasure of simply seeing  myself unadorned by the trappings of a lifelong identity, are the experiments offered from Douglas Harding. All of these experiments redirects my line of vision from the world that's seen back towards the seer, from what's observed to turn towards the actuality of an observer. I love how each of these experiments holds me accountable as the sole authority of what's found, no one else has an answer here, and I am left with the same conclusion every time. 

and it's beyond any words I have to offer. 

I find myself as mystery.

every time. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Auspicious Indeed

Auspicious indeed; 

auspicious, as if all the signs of this occasion point towards some future success - and yet what I most love about those occurrences are the moments themselves, that everything has aligned just so perfectly as to bring me here as witness to this particular event, and that I'm an essential point to its unfolding. 

being auspicious indeed. 

my early morning walks are filled with such occasions, every sighting of a fox is an alignment of events that have brought us together for an instant, a brief contact that was preceded by infinite points of travel between us, and that we both seem to acknowledge this moment as being unique, extraordinary that we found each other in these quiet hours just before dawn. 

it's a rare occurrences, auspicious, 

and yet happens all the time. 

mystery has a way of revealing itself to us this way. We simply have to follow the signs, clues of auspiciousness that travel through each day, pointing us towards a synchronicity of events that have a curious importance. 

if only to ourselves. 

and in through this our lives are filled with auspicious occasions, everything aligned just so for this moment to unfold. It's simply recognizing that nothing will ever be this way again, not exactly so, not with this particular magic. As things are right now, only happens once. 

each moment, auspicious indeed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Breath and Mantra

Breath and mantra: 

one of the first methods of meditation I ever learned, well over 30 years ago, was using the So Hum mantra, a unique combination of breath and mantra that leads to a profound level of silence. Eventually I learned another mantra based, became a teacher of that method, and it's been my main practice for many years now. But it seems that So Hum always calls me back and most recently has begun to play across my breath quiet naturally in my yoga practice, a soft repetition given to the movements, each posture holds a deeper stillness that's unlocked through breath and mantra. 

a beautiful practice. 

So Hum is often called the natural mantra, as it's the actual sound of the breath in our most quiet moments, being a vibration really, subtle. The Sanskrit meaning is I Am That, and we are literally meditation on our own existence, breathing our connection to the universe at large. As our breathing quiets, body settling, we become attuned to our position, a matched quality of breath and mantra to the silence voice of God. It's our natural expression, 

I love this addition to my practice, an inclusion of So Hum that just seemed to arrive unbidden, playing so easily through my mind with each posture. It's as if I've been gifted with this sound again, an old friend that's reconnected and committed to my peace of mind. 

it's a beautiful practice. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Slightly Favoring

Slightly favoring: 

it's only slightly favoring of the mantra, not at the exclusion of other thoughts, but with a bit more attention placed on returning to the sound, allowing its vibration to settle the mind completely on its own. There's no need for us to concentrate nor give effort to the task. Really, it's just the joy of leaving the mind alone, non-interference with the natural flow of thoughts. 

every thought-stream eventually returns to the ocean of consciousness. 

in truth, it never left at all. 

meditation is the art of slightly favoring the mantra, nothing is manipulated to achieve a specific state and we're not searching for an end result of silence. Everything happens on it's own, completely so, and our only role is to gently bring the mantra back to mind, innocently, recognizing our thoughts at play and that the mantra is simply our return point. 

it's the easiest meditation that I know of because no thought or sensation is excluded, there's no force of attention here, nor is it an act of concentration. Mindfulness occurs as a natural process of a settled mind, a by product of our practice. Again, we're only slightly favoring the mantra, a small gift of our attention without seeking to hold it any longer than its due, completely letting go in the very moment of our thinking and then being carried by the vibrations of its sound. 

there's little effort given. 

we're only slightly favoring the mantra. 

meditation happens on its own.

completely so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Even Earlier Now

Even earlier now: 

even earlier now, usually right around 3:30 a.m and I am drawn from bed, called really, to start my day with breathwork and meditation, several rounds of sun salutation and then enjoy a cup of coffee in the deep quiet of the morning. Soon after I head for my walk, it's another world outside at these hours, mostly me and first waking songbirds, with only a few cars in early commute, and an occasional runner who breaks the spell of silence with harsh breath and heavy steps, causing me to shield my eyes from their headlamps glare. I don't begrudge them their time, but my aim is solitude and I do my best to avoid the possibility of our meeting, taking the darker routes and least popular paths. 

I'm waking even earlier now...

seeking mostly to be alone. 

what it is - is reverence. These hours fill me with a sense of awe, it's as if I'm alone at first creation, a world in soft becoming. No words can possibly give this a description, predating spoken language, and everything is conveyed through silence and the experience of the body, sensations, an intuitive voice that urges me to listen to the quiet depth of morning without need of offering a reply. 

it's my most true conversation of the day. 

 and so even earlier now, I wake to simply be alone...

listening to the soft becoming of the world. 

~

Peace, Eric   

Prana

Prana: 

yoga is motion, more deeply though, and it's the ever present stillness that allows for its own fulfillment to be shown. It's energy, prana, expressed through the postures of the body. Beautifully so, artfully. There are times when it seems that prana guides our practice, taking charge of the body through its very cells, directing us through some divine play of poses, a flow beyond our current understanding of yoga. We are simply and only the expression of prana now, it's fulfillment, beautifully shown.

artfully.

this happens off the yoga mat as well, peak experiences where the mind seems unusually sharp and clear, suspended of all avenues of doubt, and every fiber of the body is committed to the task at hand. Again it's the dichotomy of motion and stillness healed of its division, no longer seen as separate things at all, but now experienced directly as one thing alone - prana,  subtlest of energy, our life force fully expressed as what we most truly are. 

yoga is the dance of possibilities, presently displayed. 

it's prana, 

artfully arranged. 

`

Peace, Eric 

Supposed to Be

Supposed to be: 

up to this point  - what I've learned through life and relationships is that it's all supposed to be a mess, never a settled thing, but that it's always in motion, offering us the best and only moment that's available right now. And this is far from being pessimistic, at least so for me, as I'm able to bring my deep sorrow to the surface, to show light on my every seeming mistake and heal them with a smile of recognition. Life's supposed to be this way. 

never truly a settled thing.

and that's the beauty and mystery of existence, that everything arises just perfectly so and then unfolds into the very instant, always to the unknown, even if we seem to guess correctly. It's remarkable that we get to love, to suffer loss, and see the transient nature of each experience. We're aware, witness to life and all that it offers, yet deeper still, we're participants through the very fiber of existence, we are the experience itself, never once removed from what's happening right now. 

even if we don't understand it, or if it holds no small amount of sorrow. 

life's supposed to hurt sometimes. 

but it's never less than beautiful.

and it's that transient nature, motion, that allows for love in its full expression, bringing change to every situation so that we can say; "yes, this too is love, even as my heart is broken." We're supposed to break, freeing us of rigid restraints that keep us locked in sure of any position. Mystery is the only option, reality, life through its motion of every possibility.

it's supposed to be this way.

~

Peace, Eric 

My Own Best Opinion

My own best opinion: 

to be free of my own best opinion, able to entertain ideas other than my own - and this seems to be the place I increasing value, finding myself able to hold my own beliefs lightly while giving clear attention to the views of others. It's an allowing space, open to every expression, yet remaining inherently empty in the wake of every thought. 

 being unconditional in its hold.

of course I still have opinions, many cherished to the point of belief. But I find that I'm able to return to that clear point rather quickly now, a natural letting go, and that my need to argue my convictions is minimal. I am mostly free of my own best opinion. 

happily so. 

what it mostly is - is simply a refusal to cling to any ideas of certainty, seeing them as a preference and not at all the reality of the world. To be able to easily say to myself "I just don't have a final answer" and finding a sense of peace within not knowing. It seems I've arrived here mostly by grace, although my long time practice of meditation, breathwork, yoga, have helped me realize the presence of this space, providing glimpses of it's ever present state. 

or perhaps it was sorrow that finally broke me open. 

revealing a clear and spacious nature. 

but it doesn't really matter, as being free of my own bets opinion allows me to consider every possibility with equal value. At least in the moment they appear. 

~

Peace,

Eric 

Least Effort

in Taoism it's called Wu Wei, or the principle of effortless action and it equates to living with the Tao, trusting in the wisdom of life to see us our daily affairs. Deepak Chopra in his book: The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success calls it the Law of Least Effort, a Vedic concept of allowing nature to run our affairs while offering as little resistance as possible. It's not really a practice, more of wisdom to remember as we seek to involve ourselves in every detail possible, believing that only we know best in how our lives should unfold.

except we often make a mess of it. 

what we believe is that our own intelligence is greater than nature's, that if we push hard against life's current we will turn its course to suit out way. We fight the river, going upstream continuously. And of course we exhaust ourselves. Least effort is about surrender, not to anything outside ourselves, but simply placing our faith in life itself, trusting that our own involvement is part of its natural rhythm and that our actions will arrive in spontaneous fashion, easily, never having to fight the river. 

it's about trust. 

perhaps the best way to see it is in saying that nature doesn't struggle against itself, not that there aren't opposing forces often at play, but that it's all nature, every bit of it, and not separate interest insisting upon their individual way. Nature always unfold perfectly within itself. The principle of least effort places us right in the thick of life, a current amidst currents, and we're ask to simply trust the same wisdom the brought us here to begin with, the forces that expanded the universe through its self creation of space/time, guided us from primordial oceans to first breath as we stepped on land. 

it's all still present, at hand, available through each moment. 

and so our only true option is to surrender to this process...

knowing that we belong full to life's currents. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Fully Immersed

Fully immersed: 

there's a deeper wisdom at play here, an intelligence greater than my own and yet one that I am intimately a part of - so that I now find myself fully immersed within it, responding to subtle means of healing that urge me to wake hours before dawn. This is my time of meditation, several rounds of sun salutation and yoga poses that seem to ease me into the day, a true sense of awakening found. As well, I am out of the door to walk well before sunrise, still fully dark, anticipating first light to reach my eyes and heal me through its soft display of colors. 

my mornings are a magical time of healing. 

truly so. 

there is something about walking at this hour that deeply joins me to nature. It's a continuation of my yoga, discovering myself as belonging to these hours, connected by virtue of my presence and desire to least disturb the holiness of earth and air. I am fully immersed in landscape, kin to smallest creature, my footsteps falling softly, breath hushed to barest whisper. I find that I am guarded of my walks, less willing to share the path with those in a rush for early miles before heading to their jobs. It's entirely selfish of me, and I am well aware of my faults here, my own bias. But I am eager for the sounds of nature to return, feeling that a sense of reverence has slightly been disturbed by their passing, holiness sacrificed for extra miles and a faster stride. The hours before sunrise are most truly meant for reverence, with nature providing a holy chorus for the pleasure of our listening. 

the more fully immersed we are in the morning hours the quieter we become, occurring naturally, a meditation of simply listening to the sounds of nature emerge from the silence of their hold. We learn how to move through this, a softer approach, matching our breath and stride to the slower pace of dawn. Our mornings are meant for reverence, to be fully immersed in nature. 

it's a magical time. 

~

Peace, Eric 

First Agenda

First agenda: 

it seems in today's political climate that the first objective isn't to outline an agenda for healing an ailing world, but to define those who hold a different view than ours as the enemy, trying make it clear that these people wish to do irrevocable harm to our country. The first agenda is to label them as being other than us, different not just in opinion but in who they really are, enemies of our most cherished beliefs and way of living. This has probably always been so, yet it seems so stark now, with dividing lines so readily embraced and eagerly defended. 

often to the point of violence. 

the first agenda should always be inclusive, to do no harm, and offer solutions to our political divide. It should always be love, and not just of our county, we're larger than that, our love is far more expansive than could ever be held within borders. Of course I'm being naive here, and my thoughts will be easily dismissed by those who to further the divide or cling to any sense of power. But I'll continue on, offering my naive views, refusing to label anyone as my true enemy. 

even if they seek to harm me. 

really though, I'm not naive, nor am I engaging in wishful thinking or impractical solutions. The only sure way to save the world right now is to love it, and each other, to the fullest extent we're able. Nothing else will work. This is the message of every great spiritual teacher, the basis of most religions, a simple tenant, to simply love each other. It's always the first agenda, the only one that matters. 

without it we are lost. 

there's room for differences, both in opinion and lifestyles -  yet there are no others, we're not enemies, just fellow human beings trying to get by in a bit of a scary world right now. We all have the same first agenda, to love and to be healed, and if it doesn't seem that way - look deeper. 

our first agenda is to love.

~

Peace, Eric 

Once Broken

Once broken: 

I don't know as we're ever truly healed of sorrow, not completely so, once broken it seems that life has a tendency to keep us that way, open, spacious, and that our wholeness is actually found through the light that's now brought in between the pieces of our shattered identity. 

we're not healed as we once were before...

but discovered already whole. 

it seems we're supposed to break at certain points in life, small aches adding up over time, the major loss of loved ones from our lives, and our eventual physical decline. It's the first truth of Buddha, our suffering inherent to living, no escape from this for anyone. Yet we try, adding false layers of protection, cushions to shield us from the pain life offers through its course. Nothing works, not for very long, they're just distractions and an attempt to hold our lives together, delaying the opportunity brought by the realization of our impermanence. It's's fear of this that keeps us from accepting that we're broken. 

really though, it's only a false layer that's been shattered. 

our core being remains whole.

newly rediscovered through our sorrow.

once broken, we're now free to roam the spaciousness of our existence, exploring between the pieces of those shattered layers without need of clinging to their edges. The key is to resist the urge to tape ourselves together into another false identity, to not become a wounded healer, but to simply remain open to this sense of mystery, knowing ourselves only as the reality of light that illuminates the pieces. 

once broken...

we're revealed as light. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Least Disturbed

Least disturbed:

for me - nature should be least disturbed, with my steps quiet, almost hushed against the ground in their placement, soft breath, easy with the effort of my motion. Speed and distance are of little concern to me these days, it's less about training for an upcoming event, or even reaching a greater level of fitness as is simply moving quietly through nature, particularly before hint of first light, having my stride match the pace of dawn in its slow arising. 

surrounding nature being least disturbed by my presence. 

my wish is to blend in, it's yoga, walking, running in union with waning night and the day's arrival, a bridge between these two worlds. It's really about belonging, and to do so I have to match my pace with nature, not forcing myself to move faster just for the sake of gaining something of less value than what these holy moments offer. Yes, I have lost my racing edge, nowhere near as fast, nor as capable of covering distances once reached before. But I am fit and healthy, strong, and mostly importantly, for me, I belong more comfortably in my surroundings, an easier motion, serene in breath as well as stride.

I belong.

nature least disturbed. 

what I find is that the world has opened up to me now in a completely different way, my rush put aside, and my attention has sharpened past my body to a larger environment. Nature is truly least disturbed by my presence, more accepting of my easier pace and softer breath, revealing secrets that had been lost to me before. I'm not here in pursuit of anything substantial, not in these hours that are more truly devoted to the subtle language of the world.  

predawn, and everything is yoga, union, holy. 

my practice is motion, approaching it softly, with care...

leaving nature least disturbed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

At Last, A Fox

At last, a fox:

after months of keeping sharp lookout along the paths, rising even earlier to walk though neighboring woods before even the first hint of sunlight - and I have finally caught sight of my local fox. This has been a bit of a quest of mind, a hopeful endeavor added to my morning walks. My extended neighborhood has several foxes and I would see them fairly often on my longer walks and runs. But a few months back it occurred to me that's been quite sometime since my last sighting and I began to be more watchful, training my eyes along the edge of woods and the path, knowing of their preference for hunting at dawn and dusk and making sure I was out the door before sunrise to catch one returning from its hunt. 

and yesterday I did.

as last, a fox.

it was just a shadow at first, a glimpse of motion,  right along the edge of a deeper patch of woods and it instantly gave me reason to pause. Nothing else moves with that certain grace, a slivering glide, almost a low flight across the ground and yet somehow so completely connected to the earth. In just a moment he came more sharply into view, stopping just a few yards before me, curious, a brief glance shared between us, meaningful - at least for me. 

and then it was over, almost vanishing into the woods, his motion so smooth that it took an instant for it register that he was actually gone. Yet that sense of grace and wildness lingered and I was not yet ready to move on, still staring into the woods, holding on to that last bit of magic in the air. At last, a fox, an early morning sighting the filled the remainder of my day with the joy of that encounter.  This morning, light rain and the cloud cover keeping early light at bay, there was no sign of my fox. But there were songbirds already giving note, a few rabbits nibbling blades of grass, geese, all unconcerned by rainfall. There's magic everywhere, nature providing me a continuous sense of awe. 

yesterday,

at last, a fox.

and this morning...

s different glimpse of magic. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Challenge

 Challenge: 

it's not that I see the emptiness of a starting page as some sort of challenge, a space to be filled with words that I have written - no, there's no real goal here to my writing, just a subtle inspiration arriving most mornings, a whisper, and then an urge to remember what's been heard. 

emptiness is never challenged.

as the page remains empty even with these words.

lending itself as capacity to embrace each morning's inspiration.

sacred in its hold. 

so in essence, emptiness is always the invitation for words to appear, a blank canvas waiting for first brushstroke, life, opening itself for our stories to be told. There is no challenge for its fulfillment, each particular word and brushstroke is equal in its beauty, every life is a sacred story. That's the true inspiration, that there exists an infinite emptiness for our lives to unfold in, never filled, but stretching endlessly onward for every possibility to be expressed. 

life isn't some sort of challenge, it's not a game to be won or lost, nor is it a battle to be conquered. 

it's art.

and emptiness is the essential starting point of inspiration, everything is received right here, in this exact moment, and then proceeds to the timeline of our stories. We are artist as well as the medium of our display - the empty page or canvas being no more than our own reflection. 

waiting only to be filled. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Doing Our Best

Doing our best:

we're all doing our best, trying to figure out exactly who we truly are and where we belong in a rapidly changing world. I know I am, and I try to extend this courtesy of understanding to others, keeping in mind that someone else's effort may look vastly different than my own - and perhaps not even look like much of an effort at all. Yet the onus is always on me to recognize the sincerity of others, it's my responsibility to be kind, it's my dharma.

and yours as well. 

no one can truly understand how someone has arrived to their position, what evens my have shaped their minds, or led them to specific beliefs or conclusions. This is where they are, standing firm in an opinion that they believe is their own but in fact has been shaped through countless generations before, influenced by media, teachers, and clergy. 

it's exactly where we are as well.

most of us at least. 

there are some though who are now starting to let go of this rigid way of living, dropping the influence of previous beliefs and embracing the unknown, clearly seeing that who we truly are is actually a mystery, and that this will appear differently in others and the lives they're drawn to express. What's seen is really very simple....

we're all doing our best. 

this isn't an excuse for bad behavior, nor for the mistreatment of others - it's just a basic understanding that's arrived to somehow, part of the mystery. Maybe our own harsh judgments, either received or given, have finally broke us open to the point that all we wish for is kindness. It doesn't really matter as here we are, broken and our spaciousness revealed. 

there's no longer a choice for kindness.

it's simply what we are. 

and we're all just doing our best.

every moment. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Bullfrogs

Bullfrogs: 

it's such a familiar sound to me, hearing the croak of bullfrogs through the summer months, most especially during my predawn walk when their calling is more active and their signature chorus accompanies me around the pond and into the woods as I follow along side the streams. Yet it's seldom that I ever see one, just occasionally catching a quick hop as they return to water from the corner of my eye. I love their presence though, their call echoing through the woods, reminding me that there's so much existing right on the edge of my senses, creatures heard in background of my early walks, familiar, but largely unknown, remaining mostly mystery. 

the American bullfrog has been heard throughout my entire life, a constant presence, and yet without a bit of mindful attention, almost forgotten in their familiarity. If anyone lives near a body of water they know their sound well, it's part of the very fabric of summer, constant as the humid nights. Their call has blended into the season, belonging to the deep ecosystem of our listening. 

bullfrogs offer a chorus song of our own connection.

bullfrogs have a voracious appetite and will consume just about anything they're able to catch, with a surprising variety of small animals consumed. As well they're an essential food source for many birds and mammals, belonging fully to the process of life in its constant trade of energy.  This is deep ecology, a landscape of seamless connection, soul, and we're part of this system too, as essential as every other aspect found. We will eventually return to land, earth stuff, our present particles mingling once more with this deep ecology. Bullfrogs offer me a reminder of my true value, that I am essential here, integral to the landscape by virtue of existence. 

such a familiar sound, a chorus of croaks traded back and forth...

an echo of my own belonging.

~

Peace, Eric