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