Original Meditation

Original meditation: 

it's nature that heals, restoring us to an easier pace, a peaceful place of mind, and it begins immediately with first breath of air as we're surrounded by trees, perhaps the presence of a stream or larger body of water, birdsong's and chirp of insects. This is our original meditation, just being as we are in the presence of nature, heart rate slowed down to its minimal effort, breath in easy rhythm, and brainwaves adjusted to the pattern of our surroundings, an energy of fractals and design. 

we're healed in the surest sense...

of simply being home. 

one of the earliest forms of formal meditation was repetition of a sound, silently drawn inward towards a complete listening, merging with the subtle energy of the word. What was first heard and later became mantras were the sounds of nature, but deeply so, hearing the essence from which they emerged and the silence that they fell back to - our original meditation was being immersed in nature, a true and deep listening to the world. 

and that's what nature returns us to, this original listening, full bodied, our every fiber and inch of skin responding to the vibration of earth and air. Nothing more has to be done, we're here, and that's enough to restored to an easier place of being, our roots of existence branched once more through ground and breath returned to sky. We are matched with the patterns of nature, neurons firing to a slower pace, responsive to their surroundings. 

this is our original meditation...

 a deep listening to nature, 

its mantras and patterns urging our return. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Mallard

Mallard: 

of all the animals I see each morning, even when I'm fortunate and catch sight of the rare, secretive ones, it's ducks that are perhaps most beloved by me. They're common to be my neighborhood pond, familiar my entire life, and yet never overlooked, always a deep love for this fascinating bird. This is the mallard, perhaps the most recognizable duck in the world, the breeding male offers a beautiful show of color, bright green heads with a ring of white at the base of their deck. Females and non-breeding brings are no less lovely, although not as brightly shown, more subtle, a tone that seems to match the water of their home and yet still displays a unique blue spectrum that's visible in flight. 

it's their vulnerability that most affects me, that they are easy prey for so many animals that are near, even ones that seem less likely to be a threat such a green and blue herons, crows, and a few fish that pose a threat as well. For several weeks after breeding season they are flightless, having shed their flight feathers, more vulnerable than ever now, and retreating to secretive locations until their ability to fly is recovered. A mallards life is never easy, seldom safe, and the predation-avoidance behavior of sleeping with one eye open, resting a specific brain hemisphere while the other side is awake and watchful was first demonstrated by mallards. 

ducks have managed to make full use of their brain in order to survive. 

and yet the mallard lives fearlessly in an environment that offers every reason to be afraid, they are restful in their waters, strong flyers, and have a unique ability to thrive given all the dangers found at hand. Mallards teach me the strength of vulnerability, that to be truly fearless is not a single act of courage but a life lived with a  sure and certain grace found through this awareness, being strong exactly as I am right now, without need of pretending that I am anything other than vulnerable as well. 

mallards are my spirit guide for courage and true strength, continuously showing me the way through vulnerability is to simply be myself without a false show of strength, nor pretense of being anything other than afraid at times. These are the birds that tug my heartstrings, invoking my protective urge, even as they teach me courage. 

through their vulnerability...

I am shown the way of fearless living. 

~

Peace, Eric 

As An Advisor

As an advisor: 

it was my first reading of Carlos Castaneda that I encountered the advice of keeping death as an advisor, a shocking consideration to my early teen mind, especially as it seemed to be a subject to be avoided or discussed in hushed tones if needed to be talked of at all. Of course I was familiar with death beyond a concept at this point, having lost a string of family members through the years, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and most sadly of all was my nephew of just a few months dying suddenly in his crib. This last death had a profound affect on me as it was my first experience truly mourning the loss of an another, that such a young life was no more, forever gone from this world. 

so to read of death as an advisor came as an actual confrontation to my young mind, completely turning my thoughts on how to consider my own mortality, a subject I had never wanted to even consider before. But I was fascinated by the world of Castaneda, a desert landscape filled with spirits, mystery, and magic a completely different way of viewing life, so radically opposite from my suburban teenage years. What this was, so early on, was a seed planted, my conscious expanding from this point on to other readings of death and dying, experiences with altered states, soon beginning a life long meditation practice, and further loss of loved ones and friends - now growing ever nearer in intimacy and connection. 

not yet as an advisor, 

yet death had made its presence known.

it's no easy task to keep death in mind, especially at a younger age when even loss seems to touch us only briefly before moving on, being so engrossed in the actuality of living that there seems little need to give the subject much consideration. It's different now, I'm older, death ever nearer with each day that's gone, and I've lived with an intimacy of it's presence, deeply so, being right there as it reached to touch my father, granting me a final moment of goodbye. 

death had been close by for quite some time, we felt its presence as my father grew weaker, talked of it, yet still in hushed tones as if not wishing to draw it any nearer. I still hadn't taken death as an advisor, too occupied with my own grief and fear of loss, but it's voice was more familiar now, whispering, and I was slowly allowing myself to listen to what it wished for me to learn. It was my father's last few moments that death finally became my advisor, an actuality that's not to be avoided. Castaneda says that death is always present, just behind our let shoulder, stalking us through life. I've been present as it reached the end of its stalk and tapped my father's shoulder for his life to end, there was fear, ours, his in dying and mine for the loss I knew was here...

and then, 

there was just a letting go. 

everything surrendered.

in that very final moment...only peace, my father in his last breath and my own acceptance that her was gone. That moment, death became my true advisor. It's a simple message, not at all cloaked in esoteric knowledge, beyond even the need to try and understand, it's inherent in our very nature - we know this, death, always present in the intimacy of life, a reweaving of the fabric of our existence. Nothing is truly lost, although we certainly mourn the absence of familiar form. 

life continues. 

here's what death tells me, that my own self-importance will eventually be surrendered, and that's it's easier to do so now, letting go of any sense of personal ownership, that I'm entitled to anything other than what I can hold within my final moment. Death urges me to be at peace, to not cling to my beliefs, or make demands on how my life should be right now, to hold my desires and efforts lightly, easily letting go, detached from any final outcome. Most importantly death tells me that my father continues on through atoms and particles, existing as the fabric of the world's design, and even at this moment is in the midst of becoming something other, a new appearance, life. 

Death advisers me to see life in all of its continuation. 

letting go of any sense of permanence.

finally, 

with death as an advisor...

I'm listening. 

~

Peace, Eric  

It Bypasses Language

It bypasses language: 

what I love about the Headless Way as presented by Douglas Harding, is that it bypasses language entirely, perhaps an odd thing for me to day and then continue writing of - yet words too belong here, descriptive, hopefully poetic, and knowing of the impossibility of capturing anything that's true. Harding urges us to look, being sole authority here, and then simply rest in this encounter. Nothing else has to be done, no specific mantra or meditation, it's not a means of being mindful, but only resting here, aware, allowing ourselves to be exactly as we truly are. 

and that's not for me to say.

it bypasses language. 

and amazingly, for me, I am filled with creativity by what's found, a pureness that defies words and yet fills me with an urge to be descriptive. That's the gift of emptiness, everything belongs, it's a spaciousness that begs to be filled with the entirety of all life holds. More so, it's seamless, life is here, not amidst this emptiness, not existing within some great void, but being presently the same exact thing, an ever exchanging flow of emptiness and form. 

it bypasses language...

and still allows for inspiration to be known.

so with this I write freely, I'm granted the use of words as well as their failure. I'm writing due to the creative urge of an emptiness found and the mystery of it's content, a void and its instantaneous fill of possibilities, spontaneously arising, the very essence of true magic.  

it bypasses language,

even as I'm urged to write. 

~

Peace, Eric 

As A Practice

As a practice: 

thinking of gratitude as a practice, invoking it as a matter of course through journaling, or simply being mindful of all that's been given and making note that we're thankful to receive. There are countless ways to practice and it's a worthwhile endeavor, our appreciation for life grows through these reminders, that we're so often forgetful of all the things that give us joy and pleasure. Many studies of have shown that being grateful makes us happier, not because we've gained anything, but only for the sake of what we already have right now, and most of it obtained freely as a gift for being alive. 

we use gratitude as a practice to remember what's inherent,

that life is always present...

always giving. 

the word gratitude comes from the Latin word gratia, which means grace and that's a gift beyond our practice, it can only be invoked through our surrender and patiently waited on, watched for, yet never anxiously so, as that seems to keeps it's presence at bay, blocked by our pleas and demands for it to show. By its very nature grace can only be acknowledged, being a mystery bestowed without favor, arriving completely on it's own and leaving us forever changed and grateful in its wake. 

gratitude as a practice is really a prayer for grace, not to be received, but to be mindful of its presence, to recognize the course it's played throughout our lives, continuously, yet mostly unseen. At a certain point it's no longer a practice, we're aware of grace as presence, grateful, spontaneously so, overcome by the gift of air received as breath, heartbeat playing easy in its rhythm, and our bodies root-deep in belonging to the very fabric of the earth and sky. 

our practice is being alive, surrendering to grace...

and with this we see it was never truly a practice at all. 

just life,

awakening to the gift of its own existence.

~

Peace, Eric 

Inversions

Inversion: 

perhaps the two most associated poses with any yoga practice are the headstand (Sirsasana) and shoulder stand (Sarvangasana) long considered to be the king and queen of all yoga poses as they bring a balance of Shakti, the divine feminine energy located at the base of the spine, and Shiva, pure consciousness that sits at the crown of the head. These are inversion poses, defined as any posture where our head is below our heart, giving us an upside down view of the world. 

I have three favorites here, part of my twice daily routine, two of which are really easy to practice, downward facing dog and the very simple forward bend. Neither of these postures take much time to learn or to put into immediate use and receive the benefits of inversions. My third favorite is the queen of all poses, the shoulder stand, a bit more complex but not impossible to learn. It's mostly a matter of trust that our body will support us through this hold, and it's with that surrender that we gain the unique benefit offered by inversion poses, our perspective of the world instantly changed, rearranged from the familiar to a slight shift of view that causes us to reconsider how we've long viewed our daily lives. Everything is seen differently from these postures, most especially when we're complete upside down, poised, and yet surrendering ourselves to a full turn of how we observe the world. 

it's a shift of energy that brings deep insights. 

and we see that nothing is ever completely as we've believed. 

the health benefits along are worth giving these priorities in our practice, they ease anxiety and will instantly lower our blood pressure. These are energizing postures, but subtle, causing an awakening in perspective as well supporting our immune system and strengthening the body. Inversions are considered to be a fountain of youth, vitalizing, improving circulation and giving the heart the deep rest that it so richly deserves. 

yet it's that shift in view that truly calls me to these postures, inversions, seeing what's familiar from a new perspective, different every time a pose is held, and how this will then carry onward to how I see the world. 

such a subtle shift...

and I see that nothing is really as I've long believed. 

the world is always changing.

uniquely to my view. 

~

Peace, Eric 

Only 20 Minutes

Only 20 minutes: 

the goal is early light, as close to sun's arrival to the new day as possible, getting those first rays for the benefit of mind and body, a chemical reaction happening in the brain that leads all the way to evening and a preparation for a sound and peaceful slumber. It's more than that too, it's for the soul, reconnecting my spirit to the land by footsteps taken, and my breath taking part in a giving exchange of air to breathe and the exhalation of carbon dioxide for my neighborhood plants and trees to thrive. My walk is only 20 minutes, perhaps a bit longer if I'm carried away by the beauty of the morning, brief by my once training standards when I walk for miles at a stretch. 

but my goal is different now...

for this walk at least. 

really though, there isn't a goal, it's just to greet the morning, getting in that first light and to find out what nature will offer me each morning. On any morning I am apt to be surprised, my walk is only 20 minutes but it's filled with wildlife and the season's deep shade of green right now. It's my favorite time of year, fast approaching solstice, light in daylight and opportunity to witness the variety of life in the immediate neighborhood surroundings. 

I live close to a small pond, teeming with birds, with the most common sighting of crows and robins, catbirds often heard yet in hidden in thick weeds and branches, the loveliness of red-winged blackbirds standing out against the background of cattails and green/brown water of the pond. There are cardinals and blue jays, the occasional magic of a bluebird, or rare sight of oriel appears. Geese and ducks abound and on some fortunate mornings I catch sight of blue and green herons feeding by the shore. Recently a cormorant has made a home here, my first ever sighting of one here, a gift indeed each morning. Occasionally there's hawk perched on a branch, watchful, nothing missed through all that happens, poised for any opportunity for a meal. More often there's an owl heard without ever catching sight, yet sometimes, a glimpse, and at first it's feeling of being watched before spotted, well hidden in the branches, retiring for the day after a full night of hunting, I suppose. 

my walk is only 20 minutes and I'm gifted by this world.

there are rabbis here, squirrels, and of course sly, mysterious foxes stalking through the brush. Rumors of coyotes, yet never sighted here. but I'm hopeful. Raccoons and the surprise of opossums, both seldom spotted accept by quick glance as they scramble across the path towards the deeper woods. So much wildlife, a vast ecosystem of insects stretched beneath my stride, reminding me to be mindful of of my steps, respectful of even the smallest life, that everything has a dharma of its own. 

this is my blessing, home, life revealing itself to me.

my walk is only 20 minutes...

and yet,

an entire world is given. 

~

Peace, Eric