Barest Notice

Barest notice: 

of first note is the mantra's effect on my body, with heart rates settling to a calm and easy rhythm, breath growing ever more subtle, almost imperceptible in its passage, every natural function happening on its own without my interference. There's only the barest notice now, a faint impression of heart rate and breath until even this is given to the mantra in a final act of letting go. 

it's my body that's meditating first. 

assured in its awareness.

it seems that the mind sometimes follows a longer course to reach this point, thoughts streaming without restraint, again without any interference on my end, everything allowed to settle in it's own time. I'm in no hurry here, as there's the soft return of my mantra playing through me, gently, not causing an interruption, but gaining just my barest notice, enough to lead me to an underlying silence found beneath this thought-filled world. 

it's the body that's meditating first...

yet my mind soon follows.

and everything happening completely on its own.

~

Peace, Eric 

An Extra Day

An extra day: 

today is usually the last day of February, but this is a leap year with an extra day added, and tomorrow being the 29th day of the still shortest month of the year. Meteorologist generally place spring's arrival on the first of their proper month and the equinox itself being more of a formality of the stars, a recognition of their astronomical location. So it seems, at least in meteorological terms, that spring is delayed by a single day due to a technicality of the sun's travel. 

of course the season doesn't know this. 

and it feels like spring outside. 

it takes the earth approximately 365.25 days to travel its course around the sun, a solar year, and this doesn't quite fit within the perimeters of our calendars. A leap year makes up the difference, every 4 years we accumulate an extra day to lend to February and we're repaid with an extra day of winter. It seems to me that we could have invested this time in June, increasing the length of summer by a day and staving off the touch of autumn. But time and seasons don't work this way, truly being independent of our clocks and calendars, and we mark their passage only for our own convenience. 

life itself doesn't have an extra day. 

it's expressed only in a given moment.

always now. 

and this is where we live it. 

regardless of our clocks and calendars.

~

Peace, Eric 

Ever Subtle Shift

Ever subtle shift: 

only two days left in February, being a leap year we have an extra, but there is definitely an ever subtle shift towards Spring, early buds on certain trees, animals a bit more active in the predawn hours of my earliest walk. I've recently spotted both owls and hawks in pairs, mates, and beginning to nest in preparation for laying eggs. Life is waking from a long winter slumber and I'm eager to explore this new and warmer world. 

I suspect that winter hasn't given up it's grasp, it seldom does so easily or early. Occasionally we get some biggest snow in mid-March, storms that sweep through leaving several inches or even over a foot in their wake. There's often cold snaps all the way to early April, so I take no warmth for granted. But I do celebrate the ever subtle shift towards Spring. 

it's the equinoxes that seems the most dramatic in effect, moving so slowly at first, barely noticed in the midst of the present seasons focus. Yet then, a rush, Spring or Autumn hurries in with a vast display of color, vibrant leaves that will soon begin to fall or the thick green of early plant life that literally explodes in its deep shade of verdant wonder. Winter and Summer are less dramatic, coasting in on the theater of their preceding equinox - but no less thrilling in the beauty that they offer. 

every season has its beauty. 

ours to explore.

if we're open to these changes.

and that's why I love these earliest signs of a new seasons arrival, that in between sense of worlds within worlds, an ever subtle shift towards....

something. 

and for now,

 it's a mystery to explore. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Petty Tyrants

Petty Tyrants: 

I remember reading the urging of Don Juan to Carlos Castaneda on having a petty tyrant in his life, the important role they play in allowing one to recognize and reduce their own self-importance, freeing them of the concerns of others. It's similar to the view that Abraham Maslow had for self-actualized people, that they are free of the good opinion of others. In the age of social media, none of us have to search far to find a petty tyrant, or indeed, perhaps some of us play that role well for others. It's important to consider, do we unknowingly slide into the petty tyrant role, not realizing that we might harass someone for their content just because it's so easy to leave a negative reply - 

as I share my own work now, especially through public views on more visual social media, I guard myself from slipping into negativity, even in reply to the petty tyrants that so often seem to appear. It strikes me how easily it is to become defensive, matching the energy of a critic with an argumentative stance and offering insults in replace of calm abiding. It's a telling mark of my own peacefulness, if I'm riled and offended by the words of someone I don't even know, or do I allow my humor and easy nature to show through and simply smile at the situation. 

mostly I smile. 

a petty tyrant plays an important role. 

and I've earned the right to have one. 

by this I mean that anyone who truly wishes to be an artist, of any kind, but especially through an appearance on social media, has to be fearless to some extent, unafraid to share themselves in an open and honest way. Through the light of their authenticity, they will certainly attract some darkness, shadows appearing on the outskirts of their efforts,  critics eager to mock and offer negative comments only for the sake of their own self-importance. 

petty tyrants. 

and what a great opportunity to free myself of their concerns. 

not through effort.

by simply a smile of recognition and awareness. 

unattached to any opinion. 

even my own. 

` 

Peace, Eric 

 

The Truth Is

The truth is: 

the truth is, I have no idea where or how consciousness emerges from, if it's all pervading or just an aspect of my brain produced through a neurochemical reaction. The truth is, it doesn't matter much to me, both being miracles of equal proportions and importance. Indeed, I find that if matter can be arranged in such a particular way as to produce the wave of astonishment and awe that sweeps through me with every sunrise - then perhaps it's the greatest miracle of all, an alchemical transformation of dry material into the fluid expression of a beautiful world. 

I have no problem with that theory.

yet mostly, I align with a more panpsychism view, based upon a seamlessness on which my life is lived much of the time, everything flowing ever towards everything in a sense of deep connection. But I couldn't swear that this is ultimate reality, only my own, at least often, as there are also moments in which I find myself fully immersed in trivial details that seem separate in experience from all others, a life divided into portions of affairs that call to my attention. 

the truth is, both seem very real. 

the difference though, is that this seamlessness of my life never feels as if its an experience, there's a deep rightness to it that defies description other than simply saying - I am home, or even more so, that there's only presence and the entire cosmos is home to this existence. It's to this that experiences seem to enter and leave on a whim of their own, but the timeless presence always remains. 

of course it could be an illusion induced through decades of meditation. 

an alternate reality beyond the senses. 

the truth is, 

it doesn't mater either way. 

I make no claims on this distinction. 

and just live my life. 

joyfully so. 

~

Peace, Eric 

What Type of Yogi

What type of yogi;

not long ago I was asked by a friend what type of yoga I practiced, an interesting question that I really had to pause and consider, not wanting to give a flippant reply but to give a truly thoughtful answer that would best describe my approach to yoga. After some thought I explained that I practice Patanjali's yoga, following the guidelines of his sutras to the best that I'm able. This answer always provides me an opportunity to describe the actuality of yoga, it's true depth beyond the most familiar aspects of poses and pranayama, that 's based upon ethical restraints and personal observances that eventual help us achieve a steady, peaceful state of mind. It was the thoughtful answer that I had hoped to give, meaningful, and outlining the essence of my practice. 

yet it didn't really touch on an important issue -

what type of yogi am I? 

it's not that labels are important, but there was a moment of self reflection, asking myself that question and giving due consideration to the answers that arrived. The Bhagavad Gita outlines four paths of yoga, and at one time or another, I've drawn to everyone. My practice is Patanjali's yoga because I'm drawn to structure and discipline in my life, I love a routine to follow that's based upon an achievable outcome, even if the goal itself  has long ago been laid aside for the simple joy of my practice. That answers my simply question -

what type of yogi am I? 

one without a certain path to follow, 

free flowing to the extent that I embrace the passion of each moment, curious as to how my life will unfold as I wander through the joy of my existence. In one instant I am a Bhakti yogi, devoted to the sheer pleasure of being alive, sensual, experiencing the touch of God through scent of flowers and reach of every breeze. At other times I give myself to service, a Karma yogi that's content to aide and comfort others, or work within a larger sense of duty for the world. Still, there are also moments of deep reflection, self-inquiry, a repeated asking of my truest self to be shown and understood, a Jnana yogi who yearns to know myself through every possible connection. 

the final path, Raja yoga, is my practice,

but doesn't fully tell the entire story. 

that's impossible to describe.

and there's no real need to.

I'm just a yogi. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Original Stillness

Original stillness:

my mantra is beautiful, a vibrational quality of the moment I came into physical existence, and my only role is to gently think it as I'm easily, gently, carried to my original stillness. That sums up my meditation practice each sitting, no effort nor concentration involved, and with no concern for mindfulness either as the simple return to the mantra should my attention wanders is a mindful act. Indeed, the act of thinking the mantra itself is the essence of mindfulness, being absorbed within its vibration, nothing falling outside its perimeters within the instant that I think it - 

each silent utterance a meditation of its own. 

completely so. 

I could say that this is a beautiful, meaningful experience, but only after I emerge from original stillness, the silent gap between every thought that passes. The true is, returning to the mantra leads me to a point beyond the nature of experience, as any identity of an experiencer drops away and all there is the vibration of the mantra until a subtle shift to silence...

with nothing to be experienced.

just the pure joy of existence, 

unclaimed 

by anyone at all. 

it's the original stillness of simply being. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Astronomical Celebration

Astronomical celebration: 

we're approaching spring, it's the last week of February and meteorological seasons start on the first of their particular month - a point of celebration for me as I patiently wait out the colder days of winter. Of course there's no guarantee that the cold won't linger, no season is precise in it's arrival and there's no safe predictions on what weather lies ahead. 

still, a meteorological season's change is good enough for me. 

a reason to celebrate spring's return. 

even if it snows again.

yet I also love the astronomical change of seasons, allowing myself to be guided by the stars and their unique position in the sky. Maybe it's a primordial holdover from an ancestral celebration, primitive, with an urge to dance around a blazing fire and thank the heavens for spring's arrival. In my heart, my cells really, I love that primitive urge, reminding me that I'm not so distantly removed from either earth or stars, with both calling me t rejoin their ancient dance. 

and one day I will. 

truly being an astronomical celebration. 

so it seems my mind celebrates the first of March, a logical conclusion to winter's long stay, and yes, my body appreciates any touch of warmth. An early spring return is certainly better in this regard, a meteorological celebration of warmer days ahead. But the stars position themselves in a deeper way than the logic of my mind or body - they urge my cells to dance around a ceremonial fire, to regain a spiritual sense of a season's passing and to remember myself as something larger than either mind or body. It's an astronomical celebration, pulling to our blood and bones, urging us to leap and twist to some ancient celestial song played only for the soul.

we dance for a season's ending. 

as well for another's return. 

an astronomical celebration of life.

ever changing in its nature. 

~

Peace, Eric  

A Stream's Distance

A stream's distance: 

there is much to love about my town, it's where I grew up and the principles upon which it was founded have helped shape my sense of care and decency. It's a planned community designed and founded in the 1960's and at it's core it was created with high ideals of what a city should be. Mostly, with growing pains along the way, it has succeeded.  But for me, my greatest love is the insistence of trees, streams and ponds being left to retain a bit of wildness, that my suburban community still feels nature based even after decades of development. 

it's a small miracle of city planning. 

perhaps what I most love is that I'm just a stream's distance from any other point within the world - a realization that occurred to me as a child roaming the local woods and following my neighborhood streams to where they fed into larger waters. The small creek that's behind my house can be traced to larger streams that eventually become the Middle Patuxent river and leading into the major Patuxent river and then the Chesapeake Bay. I used to dream that I could one day follow my small creek all the way to the Atlantic ocean and beyond, reaching distance shores and roaming even further. 

just a small stream,

and I felt connected to the world. 

this was an early spiritual epiphany for me, discovering that something I loved could lead to a greater connection, that I was but a stream's distance from anywhere else, with nothing being truly outside the grasp of my imagination. I've stayed in my hometown, in fact I live in my childhood home that's been left to me with my father's passing. I'm connected to him as well here, his own love of the land and community, settling here in the earliest days of its founding, believing that it was the safest and most fulfilling place for his family to thrive. 

I think of all this as I walk so early in the morning, solitary, surrounded by trees and stir of animals nearby, the motion of water playing softly to my ears. What I hear is the voice of my community, it's ideals and values, and listening deeply, a connection whispers to me now, an entire landscape, rivers, bays and oceans call to me right here, my father too reassures me that he's always near. 

 and that I'm just a stream's distance from any other point within the world. 

connected.

~

Peace, Eric 

No Ascension Needed

No ascension needed:

yoga is reality based, or in essence it is, and anything that removes us from this isn't truly yoga but a derivative of its practice. Every aspect of an honest approach to yoga is set to remind us of where we are right now, thick in the often discomforts of life, yet with aspirations of lessening the degree of which we suffer from these hardships. We're not promised anything that isn't centered in the reality of this world - only that our effort pays off in the immediacy of our practice. 

right here, now.

no ascension needed.

this begins with the foundation of yoga, the ethical aspects of practice, the Yamas and Niyamas that place our focus on our behavior. These aren't commandants ordering us to live a certain way to achieve a place in heaven, and they're not a magical formula set to transform us in a supernatural way. No, they're mere suggestions based upon an honest assessment of how we think and what believe and how these keep us trapped within a state of mind that leads to a high degree of suffering. 

they're reality based.

and this is always where we return to. 

each present moment.

exactly where we are. 

the entire path of yoga unfolds from here, based on breath and body, working with what's present and not dreaming of any other reality than what's dealt with each moment. But yoga also shows us that there's more to reality than meets the present eyes, it deals with subtle energies that we begin to realize as our practice deepens. Yet we don't ascend to another level, we're always firmly planted in the reality of the moment, deepening our joy and comfort in the body, easing our minds through the suffering brought by our aversions and attachments of an ever changing life course. Yoga is simply dealing with the the issues of our lives in a kind and compassion way. 

each present moment.

no ascension needed.

~

Peace, Eric 

Bhramari Pranayama

Bhramari pranayama: 

looking for ways to further deepen my practice of the fifth limb of yoga, pratyahara, which is means withdrawal of the senses, I've added Bhramari pranayama to my daily rituals, an easy addition that fits seamlessly in with my afternoon meditation session and my pre-bed sleep routine that prepares me for a peaceful nights slumber. This pranayama method derives its name from a black bee located in India and it's a fitting name for a breath that involves a sound similar to the humming of a bee. It has a powerful effect on our physiology, calming the nervous system, lowering blood pressure and heart rate, improving concentration, and perfect to help withdraw the mind from the busyness of the world as I begin to sit in meditation. It's exactly the breath needed at this time -

as I devote myself to pratyahara. 

somethings capture my imagination even after years of being familiar with them, suddenly regaining my attention in a new light of understanding and fascination. It's this way with pratyahara and Bhramari pranayama, both being on the perimeters of a lifelong practices but never fully explored for what they offer on their own. a recent injury has freed me from an attachment to longer asana sessions, no longer being bound to a primary focus on postures, and I find that I'm eager to withdraw from my body and senses, surrendering myself to inner worlds that seem to beckon. 

my yoga now unfolds in a curious direction. 

although I've always been committed to my meditation practice, truly a priority in my life, the fifth limb of yoga has alluded this commitment. My belief was that it would naturally be included through my approach of meditation, that my senses are withdrawn as I;m carried inward by the vibration of my mantra. And this does occur, but there is still a reason that Patanjali listed pratyahara as a separate limb of yoga. So no longer taking anything for granted, I'm eager to give myself to this long ignored branch, completing my practice in all that it offers. Yoga nidra and Bhramari pranayama seem to be the final pieces, and yet I know that isn't really so - life is an endlessly fascinating journey, and my yoga will continue to unfold in new and curious directions. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Fifth Limb

Fifth limb: 

it's the fifth limb of yoga I most overlooked, feeling that it was covered through my mediation practice, a natural withdrawal of the senses without any extra effort extended its way. I wasn't completely wrong in this assumption, meditation is a process that draws us from the outer world to a deep center of stillness and peace. But the fifth limb stands apart from meditation for a reason, it's a valuable branch that should be explored for the unique healing that it offers. 

and that's exactly what I'm doing. 

a recent set back due to an injury has caused a reevaluation of my practice, certain poses no longer in rotation and my sessions suddenly opening up with extra time. It's here that yoga nidra has come to play its role, a systematic withdrawal of the senses, guided, and with a deep rest provided. This has been a great gift to me, healing, an opportunity to fully explore the fifth limb and to discover why it has been designated a complete branch of its own. 

more importantly,

providing me a chance to deeply heal.

deeply so. 

yoga nidra has been different than any of my other practices, a more complete surrender it seems as I rely upon a voice to guide me safely to a vulnerable point of letting go. There's not a single aspect of myself in charge here, stage by stage coming to a new depth of restful awareness until there's just the core reality of beingness found. 

everything else discarded. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Spiritual Practice

Spiritual practice: 

yes, I have what some would call a spiritual practice, a discipline of meditation, breathwork, and yoga, along with various other rituals that bring me great joy to perform. I'm not sure I would still use the term spiritual though, or use any label at all really, as it's simply what I love to do each day, performed without goal or end result in mind. It's just what I'm drawn to, hardwired in a certain way, and there doesn't need to be a chase for enlightenment involved. 

only that I love the rituals of my day. 

and I do.

immensely so.

every bit of my practice is designed for joy, and even as it's all performed daily it still feels spontaneous and exciting, as if I've never sat for meditation before, or committed myself to a certain yoga pose, and now suddenly an entire new world is opened up to me, brand new, yet intimately familiar. I fall in love with my spiritual practice again each day, a brand new experience with every asana or moment on my meditation cushion. There's really no need to give this a label other than the sake of description, for writing purposes, or providing an easy answer when I'm asked of what I love to do. 

that I write about it all is due to the joy involved. 

aside from that, it's a quiet practice.

unfolding through my life. 

spontaneously

each day. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Kindness

Kindness: 

is it possible to write about politics without making anyone wrong? At best we're a politically divided country and really, and at worse maybe even a cold civil war that could possibly turn heated through the course of this election year. It seems easy enough to simply shout someone down for voicing their opinion and then label them as our enemy. It's more difficult to offer kindness, a sympathetic ear to a voice and view that is so different than our own. I'm guilty of this, although I attempt to be mindful of my habit of opinion. So what I hope for now is dialog on a deeper level, speaking from my heart to yours, bypassing political views to forge a meaningful connection. 

is it possible at all?

I really don't know. 

I'm reminded of a story of the Dali Lama when he was asked to share the complexities and meaning of his religion and his was reply was telling, saying simply and with heartfelt sincerity, that his religion is kindness. That's it, an over two thousand year old tradition reduced to just a few words and yet packed with the greatest significance. 

so for me,

my politics is kindness. 

this isn't naive at all, although it's often stated so by some - kindness is a powerful force that doesn't seek to overcome anyone else's views. It's patient, understanding that we often have to take the long view in order for the world to change. Yet at the same time, it offers an immediate relief to the reverent issues at hand. The solution is always to be kind. Of course this could mean to take a hard stance in support of certain views and policies, being kind isn't for the weak, it takes great courage to stand by our convictions without being swayed to offer meanness in return. 

it takes practice. 

yet there is nothing but time between us.

a chance for us to listen.

softening our views for the sake of understanding.

and to simply be kind to one another.

practicing.

getting better through the course of time.

~

Peace, Eric 

Left Unmade

Left unmade:

the best places, my favorite, are left unmade, just nature being left alone to develop as woods or field without our interference. There's little of these areas left now, at least in my home town, and I suspect over much of the world now. Although I know there are still vast tracts of land that have yet to be altered by our hands, I suspect we've changed their natural course of growth through pollution and quality of water that supports them. But at least that haven't been remade to fit a particular image that we have, manicured, or trimmed to the point of no longer being truly wild.

the best places are left unmade.

or allowed to return that way. 

I live in the area I grew up in, familiar territory, with memories of childhood superimposed over the areas I roam. What I often notices are small tracts of land that once retained a wild edge amidst a suburban landscape and are now fitted to a particular design, or given a purpose that only seems to fit a tamer image that we have in mind. It's as if we're afraid of losing the slightest amount of control, that every inch of land most have a purpose to serve that pleases only our concerns. Very little is left unmade anymore, everything must fit our need of profit and merit, their worth being judged by what they offer us in terms of property value and design. 

our best wild places are manicured to the point of being tamed.

belonging to our purpose. 

no longer allowed to simply be a slim site of land left wild.

everything's remade to fit an image we have in mind. 

but a few places still exist, even in my suburban neighborhood there are slight stretches of land that are somehow left alone, unmade, as if we recognize the need for something truly wild and beyond our reach to remain.  This may only be a slight patch of land left undeveloped, no reason given, and none are needed, innately we know the value of untouched nature. 

that somethings are better left unmade.

and these...

are our best places of all. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Being a Tree in Balance

Being a tree in balance: 

I think I get my truest sense of yoga during Tadasana, tree pose, from first settling my gaze to a fixed point ahead, grounding my leg as a stable root to the floor, and then raising the opposite leg to balance as my arms reach upwards from a prayerful gesture to branch within the sky - I will only succeed through surrender, one-pointed in my concentration,

and then final absorption to the pose.

being a tree in balance.

most truly so.

every aspect of yoga is covered here, even the initial points of our ethical concerns and personal observations. I will not be able to achieve a sense of poise if at any moment I am violent in thought or motion, or I'm not completely honest with myself as I approach the limits of my balance. Each of the Yamas and Niyamas are considered in an instant, intuitively, and move through them all until I reach a steady poise, mindful of breath, senses withdrawn from outer concerns until I reach an easy point of concentration. The pose is a success through my surrender, trusting my place of contact with the ground as well as my arms branching in the air.

a perfect moment of poise. 

steady, comfortable, at ease...

most truly, 

being a tree in balance now.

~

Peace, Eric 

Wintry Mix

Wintry mix: 

it's 4:00 a.m and there's a steady rainfall now, soon to turn into a wintry mix that happens so often this time of year, being mid February and still winter after all. I have a cup of coffee and some writing ahead of me, having just finished an hours worth of meditation and yoga, feeling comfortable and settled in with no real reason to head outside and face the mix of rain and snow. But I know I will, I'll dress warm and have the right gear to keep dry, yet still I'll be wet and cold. 

it's February after all. 

and maybe that's what draws me outdoors, regardless of the weather each morning - each day, and through every season, presents a once upon opportunity to experience is as it, an actuality of this wintry mix that's only truly known by the touch of rainfall or snow. This is a practice of direct experience, reality as it presents itself on an early February morning, and even if I'm less than eager to step outdoors, there's still a deep wish to connect with the uniqueness of this moment.

and this morning offers me a wintry mix.

so the practice comes by not choosing which mornings to walk or if I should stay indoors, it's in disregarding my preference for a warmer sunrise over these dreary winter conditions. I will never have this particular morning again, an opportunity to watch a raindrop turn to a colder touch of snow, or to know what other creature might venture out to explore the world. My neighborhood, suburban, yet full of wonder and wildlife, calls for me to step outdoors and forget the boundaries of  a city's landscape - it's a wilderness right now, as it is every morning just before the hint of dawn. 

and this wintry mix...

is an opportunity to explore 

the uniqueness of this morning. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Through the Quality of its Vibration

Through the quality of its vibration: 

with mantra meditation, the misconception is one of force and concentration, that we cling to a certain word in order to still the mind completely. Yet really, this is the opposite of what we're doing here, it's not even the objective that we're after. The mantra is introduced gently and easily, a thought form without meaning that works solely through the quality of its vibration. 

there's no force of will involved.

no need for concentration. 

we're not seeking to control the mind.

truly, our only goal is to leave the mind alone, allowing it to run its course of thoughts however it will each session. It simply isn't our concern. What we do is introduce the mantra, always with ease, never any force involved, and it doesn't matter if we quickly overwhelmed with thought, we just return to the mantra once more, innocently, as if we've never offered it to the mind before. 

eventually, the mind begins to quiet.

completely on its own.

and we observe this as it happens.

until even the witness is gone.

only silence found.

but again, we don't seek this as an end result of meditation, and the mantra isn't endlessly repeated until this occurs. It's all too gentle of a process, more of a revelation really, through the quality of its vibration, the mantra simply brings us home. 

always gently and easily.

every time. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Longer Pause

Longer pause: 

sometimes inspiration takes a softer tone, less obvious in its arrival, and words seem more reflective of this moment, almost hesitant in my approach to writing. For me, this is when writing becomes most artful, working through a longer pause between phrases, with often a single word being found most valuable of all in its arrangement on the page. I've learned to trust silence, minimizing my demands, detaching from the process of writing, reminding myself that I'm a participant here.

not entirely the source of its creation. 

but simply part of its arrival. 

helping words to reach the page,

humble in my position, 

there's a great amount of joy to this writing, a relief really, accepting my role and not fooling myself with the belief of my importance. Yes, I am essential, but no more so than any other tool at my disposal, and in this sense I see my own invaluable contribution to something so much larger than myself. I play a critical role in inspiration, vital to a unique expression, yet an instrument non the less. My true talent is in making myself available, being fully prepared for inspirations arrival, and willing to put my own demands aside and listen to the silence found between each word.

that's when writing becomes most artful. 

through that longer pause...

where mystery is revealed. 

~

Peace, Eric 

 

Tracking Dawn

Tracking dawn: 

ever since winter solstice I've been tracking dawn, following its course of rising through the morning, and wondering when I catch my first glimpse of light on my earliest morning walks. I usually head outdoors somewhere around the 5:00 a.m mark, sometimes before, but that's the standard time for me as I wish to avoid most runners, especially the heavy footed and those who play music while they run. My purpose is solitude, quiet, and whatever glimpse of wildlife fortune provides for me. Even my own steps often disturb the morning silence. I pause often, allowing everything to settle, proceeding again only when I'm sure my footsteps will be mindful. 

so earlier for me is better.

yet this time of year, all through the months winter, I miss the sunrise. Even the ambient light before true fails to appear at this time. I don't mind the darkness, my eyes adjust to the path and there's seldom a need for the flashlight that I carry. It's always an interesting time, caught right between two worlds as some wildlife is awakening while others retreat to find a place to rest through daylight hours. It feels like home to me, a meeting point of two worlds, mysterious, showing me how I belong to both darkness and light and every shade between. 

there's nothing to choose in this belonging. 

it's all perfect just as it is. 

tracking dawn, ever earlier now each day, and soon I'll catch the earliest sunlight. I'm looking forward to this, accepting the first tint of color to the sky as a welcome to another season. I belong just as fully to this morning light as I do to the darker shades that winter offers. There's nothing to choose here, life proceeds through various degrees of light and seasons and I am immersed in their belonging. Deeply so. A participant really. 

what I'm truly tracking, is the dawn of my own existence.

showing me just how deeply I belong. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Meeting Point

Meeting point: 

there are names for these areas I have in mind, labels of science that offer a description, technical to the specific places place that they're found. What I'm thinking of is the point of entrance from a stream or river to a larger body of water, a mouth if it's flowing into the ocean, or estuary for when it's a lake or pond. There are other terms as well for some of these localities, being dependent upon the conditions that are formed by the meeting of these waters. 

each place is magical in its way. 

I spend sometime everyday in such places, small areas where my local streams merge into my neighborhood ponds, observing the appearance of how one thing, water, creates itself anew as something larger than its previous version. For me, this becomes a meditation, with my thoughts following the stream on its journey, tumbling towards a meeting point where it eventual turns calm, settled into a larger existence as a pond. Everything plays a role here, vital to the landscape that they belong to, and even their merger creates a special environment that provides a home many plants and creatures. 

these are magical places, obvious in the metaphor they provide,how everything belongs in sacred order without need of interference. There is a meeting point to all things, or at least the appearance of this being so, and that I am a product of this action, a stream of particles that has somehow settled into a specific body, an identity of a personal existence. 

someone. 

yet in reality, I'm simply a meting point of ever smaller things, a confluence of events appearing briefly as a settled form. My true identity seems to be motion as well as stillness, stream and pond, river and an infinite ocean of existence. What I am is beyond description, something that can't be named nor ever truly told...but I know it when I'm immersed in nature.

a meeting point of every possibility. 

happening right now. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Soft Return

Soft return:

what I most love is the soft return of mantra, how initially my mind might be crowded with thought and that with each easy repetition of its vibration there arrives a settled silence, natural, without any striving to reach this point of stillness. It happens on its own, being more a revelation of what's already present than a true arrival - the mantra simple brings me to back to the reality of a quiet mind, always here just beneath every thought that's passing. 

in it's soft return...the mantra reminds me that I'm home.

exactly what I am.

and than there are those moments when thoughts seem to emerge from an extended stay of silence, noticed through their subtle entrance and just before the mind latches hold to the currents of their motion. It's the soft return of mantra that eases me back to stillness, not forcing thoughts away, but only offering the mind a vibrational option, a thought without any meaning other than a quality of silence. 

it's here, that I discover the true art of mantra...

a soft return to silence.

by simply letting go. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Easiest Thing

It's the easiest thing: 

it's not that I'm a seeker, nor was I ever really, everything has always felt way too natural in its place, as if I were meant to be practicing yoga, or being deep in meditation. The difference, I think, is energy, that seeking involves an almost frantic search for answers or to reach a certain state of attainment. It's an important quest for many, devoting their lives towards what they consider to be a higher purpose. I think perhaps I'm too lazy to be a spiritual seeker, there's never been a high energy directed to this pursuit, and maybe I've been fortunate in this regard - 

I'm simply drawn towards these certain things.

happily so.

and my life has been given to their practice.

really, I feel more like an explorer, that I have an entire life of interior adventures reflected in the outer world. By this I mean seamless, no split between material world and things seen as spiritual. It's all reality, perfectly available to be explored, right now, here, and without any cause to seek it. This is why I fell in love with the Headless Way of Douglas Harding, it's the lazy persons way towards awakening, simply point to this ever present reality - and then live our lives exploring what's been found. 

it's the easiest thing to do. 

so I'm a lazy, headless yogi, practicing the things I love for no other reason than I'm drawn to them, devoted to my own enjoyment. None of the things I do hold an ultimate answer to any spiritual question, they're just expressions of reality, meant to be enjoyed for their experience alone. 

it's the easiest thing for me to do. 

~

Peace, Eric 

New Arrivals

New arrivals: 

I love new arrivals, last year brought cormorants and green herons to my local pond, never having seen either of them here before, as well, there was even a bear traveling through the neighborhood on its way to a wilder and more permanent home. All of these visitors thrilled me, knowing that my little pond could be host for these amazing creatures, offering them a slice of wilderness in a suburban setting - it makes me love my hometown even more than ever.

this year, as early as it is, and already there are beavers that have made their way here from several miles away, new arrivals after decades of absence. There were signs that they might be here, gnawed trees left as sharpened points, logs dragged across portions of the stream that feeds the pond. I was hopeful, but not yet convinced until I finally saw one slip into the waters edge with hardly a splash, sliding past me with such amazing grace. I haven't seen another yet, but I hear them often on my earliest morning walks, a tail slapped against the water and some chattering in the distance. 

it's enough for me to know they're nearby. 

and then yesterday, another new arrival, Hooded mergansers have made their way here, maybe briefly in the course of their travel, or perhaps establishing a home. They're such a beautiful addition to the pond life, cutting a graceful course through the water, their crest offering a striking contrast to the mallards and geese that live here. I welcome these visitors, new arrivals, and hope they make this pond their home. But yes, it's enough that they stopped even briefly for a visit, providing me a glimpse of a wilderness never seen here before. 

truly, what these new arrivals show me is just a hint of a greater reality, that my home is really larger than my local world, vast and ever expanding. I am grateful for every visitor, sharing this message, teaching me to see and welcome the new possibilities that each day might offer. It's only February, spring is drawing near, and already I'm eager what other new arrivals might appear. Yet, honestly, my local world has already expanded, and it's enough that the Hooded mergansers are here. 

for however long they stay. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Continuous Loop

Continuous loops: 

it seems the past few years have been a series of setbacks and healing, continuous loops in way, as one issues begins to heal another appears and calls for my immediate attention. I have been extremely fortunate that these are concerns I'm able to deal with - some with the help of professional healers,others with the aid of friends, while many have been largely handled through my own care. It's good to have a community at hand, people who are trained to offer just the right attention, friends who reach out to give comfort and relief. As well, it's of equal importance to know that we possess the innate ability to heal ourselves, a vast resource of natural aid from which we can always draw from. 

yet healing often takes so many forms.

with some being unfamiliar.

for me, the true healing hasn't been overcoming obstacles, or putting any health issues aside. Although both of these have happen and for that I am eternally grateful. My greatest healing has been simply recognizing these continuous loops of distress and ease, discomfort and relief, suffering and the realization that life carries on through every cycle, eventually emerging to a new beginning. 

continuous loops for certain. 

there's a profound healing here, a deep comfort, and it's just knowing that life is always okay, meaning that, yes, sometimes it's quite difficult, but that every continuous loops brings us to a starting point, and that it's always right now, always this moment,...

always available. 

our healing is right here. 

 in the midst this continuous loop.

accepting what is present.

~

Peace, Eric 

The Yoga of the Subtle Body

The yoga of the subtle body: 

it's the yoga of the subtle body that has always fascinated me, draws me to my practice, and captures my curiosity so deeply. To know that my body extends to a point unseen, a finer layer consisting of an energetic structure that provides me breath, thought, and higher wisdom - this is what yoga calls to me to explore. The Bhagavad Gita describes this body as consisting of the mind, intellect, and ego, noting how it controls the physical and provides us with the ability to experience pleasure and pain. Yogic philosophy actually claims that we consist of three bodies, koshas or sheaths, and these are causal, subtle, and the physical that we are most familiar with. 

but it's the yoga of the subtle body that holds my fascination. 

perhaps this is due to my own physicality, that I am drawn to express myself through motion, running and walking great distances, lifting heavy objects and using my body to perform various feats of endurance and strength. I find it interesting that there's a finer, more subtle body just past this physical expression that actually calls for this motion. 

yet I think it's the continuation of bodies that I'm most curious about, how an aspect of self continues unseen until even this subtle expression gives way to something larger still. How far do I extend across an infinite field of energy? 

that's what I'm curious about. 

the yoga of the subtle body is a revelation of my every expression, showing aspects of self merging to finer layers of reality that somehow seem to carry on forever. At some point here, just past the physicality of existence, all identity is dropped, there is only the continuation now...

subtle bodies left entirely behind.

an infinite field of energy,

beckoning. 

~

Peace, Eric 

It's Enough to Know

It's enough to know: 

my first walk of the day is earliest enough that it's still hours away from sunrise, dark, with the paths often difficult to make out clearly. I'm long familiar with every route that weaves through my neighboring woods, my feet sensing each bump and contour the path offers and there's little need for me to use an artificial light. I love to make my way through the dark, allowing my eyes to adjust and only seeing what the natural light of these hours permits me to see. Still, I know that there is much I'm missing, unseen wildlife scampering off into the brush before my eyes have a chance to catch them. My neighborhood has plenty of fox and raccoons, deer and rabbits. A rare coyote or two prowl through the woods, and owls that often alert me to their presence with their calling back and forth. There are beavers at my pond that slap their tails against the water as I pass, always just past my line of vision. And last year we had a bear pass through on his way to finding a wilder and more permanent home.  

most of this I never see, let alone capture with a photo. 

but it's enough to know they're out there. 

existing.

I do carry a flashlight, although I'm reluctant to use it, preferring the natural light to guide my eyes. My practice is one of least disturbance and in this way I know that anything I see is truly gifted to me, a slight revelation of the mystery that lurks just past my vision. Really, it's enough to sometimes catch a stir within the brush, guessing at the presence by the sound of its flight. Or catching the faint musk of deer that must have passed just moments before my arrival. 

not everything is meant to be seen. 

it's enough to know they're out there, remaining as a mystery, wild, even in the midst of my suburban neighborhood. If I'm fortunate, patient, sometimes I'm gifted with a glimpse, a privilege that makes even the most familiar sight a rare and precious treasure. My walks are meant to add to a collection of memories, no, there's something deeper at play that I've only recently discovered - that I'm a participant here, part of a synchronistic event that demands for my surrender, not forcing my own wishes upon the natural world. These walks help me relearn that I belong here, but only on the terms offered by these early, and still dark hours. 

I see only what is meant to be seen. 

yet it's enough to know that I belong here. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Fearless

Fearless:

today, more than ever there's an opportunity to live creatively, earning an income through the means of our own initiative and ingenuity. This has been something I've striven for my entire adult life, always feeling just out of reach or beyond my natural talent. Of course before the age of social media there were limited opportunities to explore, less avenues to share my creative efforts, and with a smaller audience to reach. Things have changed considerably, the world is literally at my fingertips now, and it's simply a matter of sharing what I do across the media landscape.

as well, no small amount of being fearless.

my only real talents, or so it seems to me, are enthusiasm and being genuine, just sharing the things I love in an honestly, and hopefully, unique way. The question might be - is there an audience for that - and the answer, honestly, is I don't know, and at this point, I'm not sure it even matters. Or if it ever did. Yes, an audience means that my words have reached some people, that my creativity may have earned me a greater income. These are indeed important measures of my success. But they're lower on the scale than I had originally imagined. 

the only true measure now is...have I been fearless in my sharing. 

holding nothing of myself back.

and simply giving the best I have for the sake of my endeavors.

the question is always - 

am I being true to my creative expression.

fearless.

that's the standard for me to live my life by now, immeasurable, with no scale to offer feedback other than my own sense of completion, knowing that I gave myself away to the point where nothing remains but the pure love of sharing who I am. 

what I've discovered is that it's only this love...

fearless in it's giving,

that measures my success. 

it's all that truly matters. 

~

Love, Eric 

February

February: 

by far my favorite month of the year is June, as the slow build up of foliage peaks with a near magical shade of green, thick with life, and the days not yet reaching the more oppressive heat of later summer - it's a month that seems to stand apart from other seasons in my mind, a complete occasion of it's own, filled with a particular essence I adore. Today however, is the first of February, with a leap year adding an extra day, seeming to prolong winter just a little longer. But this month too holds a place in my heart, often providing me a first hope of spring even as a following day might rush the present season back to focus, with snow and bitter winds once more. 

February reminds me that it's still winter after all. 

and to take no warmth for granted.

a lesson relearned every year.

still things become more active in this month, nature preparing for the spring ahead, days slightly longer, and I cherish every moment of extra light. We're on the edge of changing seasons, and February is a month of subtle shifting towards the sudden burst of spring of March and April. It's a careful time, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of what winter will allow, and any step too far from the borders of the present season will be reigned back by a following day of ice and snow.

it's still winter after all. 

as well, February is the birth month of my father, a blizzard day in 1927, late in the month but winter lasts longer in the rolling mountains of northern Pennsylvania. My father was born at home, no medical aide present, his oldest brother tasked with the mission of bringing the nearest doctor from over the mountain using horses and sleigh, arriving back just moments after my dad was born. I never tired hearing this story, it seemed to mark my father as someone special in my eyes. 

and of course he was, 

so I celebrate February, for all that it offers, not asking for spring, but allowing the month its own unique expression without my demands for it to be anything other. In a way, it's very similar to June, a month on the edge of seasons shifting, being a complete occasion of its own. Today, February begins, and I'm eager to explore everything it offers.

even if it's still winter after all. 

~

Peace, Eric