Inspiration

What Would Your Magic Potion Do?

Published on by elizaking

As I was walking home a couple weeks ago, a small voice hailed me.
“Want to buy a magic potion?” The speaker was a neighbor from up the street, a four-year old boy with dark straight hair, sitting with his Mom on the front steps of their house.
A box with three small bottles lay across his mother’s lap. She smiled at me and said, “He’s selling homemade magic potions.” She ruffled his hair, adding, “But you don’t really want to drink them of course!”
I nodded, and picked out a bottle and admired the vibrant purple liquid inside. “Tell me what this one does?” I asked the boy.

“That one digs a deep hole in the ground that fills up with purple water,” he explained carefully, then ducked his head and turned back toward his mother.
“Which is the one that makes you fly like a bird?” his Mom prompted.
“This one.” he scooped another bottle from the box with both hands and handed it to me. I put the purple one back and held up the second bottle. This bottle’s contents, a white translucent liquid with small white floating specks, didn’t grab me, much as I liked the idea of flying. I put it back.
“What about the last potion,” I asked, reaching for the third bottle, “What are its magic powers?” The liquid inside was a murky greenish brown.

“That one causes explosions.” the boy said, leaning forward, his eyes on the bottle, “I don’t know why but it makes everything it touches just explode.”
I hastily put that bottle back in the box. He picked it up and shook it gently as if to experiment with exploding something. I noticed a splintery stick of wood left over from a building project lying beside the bottles in the box.
“That’s for sale too,” he told me, “wood is very useful.”
“You need to let her know what they all cost,” his mother said as he picked up the stick of wood and started demonstrating its usefulness by banging it on the stairway’s metal railing. “Remember what I paid you for my potion?”
“A quarter.” he said, turning back to me as he fingered the wood, “You can buy the stick of wood for a quarter too. Soon I’ll have a whole dollar.”
“Are you saving up for something?” I said, searching my pockets for coins.
“Yes. Something special. But I don’t know what it is yet.” He added candidly.

I laughed and gave him two quarters. “Well, I will contribute fifty cents to your dream. I’ll buy one magic purple potion and the stick of wood.”
He took the quarters and began clinking them together in his hand. I gathered my prizes from the box.
“What do you say?” his Mom said, touching his shoulder to get his attention.
“Thank you.” he said automatically, his focus still on the quarters in his hand.

I walked home, considering why I had chosen the deep hole in the ground filled with purple water and not the potion that could make me fly. Partly because of the color, I decided, but I also liked the idea of a magic purple well, like a well of dreams or memories I could draw upon in my writing. I thought about the little boy and imagined how it might feel again to believe one could create a magic potion.

So my question for you is, if you could make a magic potion, what would your potion be like, and what would it do? Feel free to respond, I’m really curious!

Unexpected Benefits

Published on by elizaking
“What are the benefits of practicing meditation?” a newcomer asked at a recent Still Water Mindfulness Practice Center orientation to an evening of mindfulness and meditation. Later, I thought of an answering question to understand better where the speaker was coming from, “What are you wanting from the practice. What is it you are longing for?”

When I first started coming to Still Water meditation evenings in Silver Spring, MD, I was already meditating but was longing for a deeper sense of community support around my practice, an affirmation of belonging to a larger whole. I had no idea what that might look like. I definitely did not consider myself an early morning person, and had no interest in the morning meditation groups. But a friend talked me into trying one in Takoma Park. It was a stretch, but I started to go once a week. Things changed when I decided to go to a week-long retreat at Blue Cliff Monastery last summer led by Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk and author, Thich Nhat Hanh.

I started going regularly to three or four morning sits a week as a steady way to “get in shape” for the Blue Cliff retreat. People had told me that participants get up at 5am there every morning, and I didn’t want to be exhausted.
The morning groups i was attending in this area are not as early but at first, I always felt grumpy and sleepy getting up to practice. I learned how to welcome and be with a lot of internal resistance the whole time I was sitting! Over time the resistance began to dissipate so that even after I attended the retreat, I continued to sit regularly in the morning with a group or on my own.

Since then, I notice that while I still have ‘up’ and ‘down’ days, I enjoy watching the quality of the morning light shift as the seasons change. I feel quietly excited to be with my fellow practitioners and more open to their presence. Even when I practice alone now, I feel a deep sense of being connected with my community, not only people who meditate, but also, my larger community. I am recognizing that I have received much of what I was longing for originally, even though it has come in a different form than I imagined.

I invite you to share your insights about your personal benefits and discoveries from mindfulness practice or another practice/activity which has helped you feel part of your larger community. If you are new to your practice, what is it you are longing for as you begin this journey?  If you are a regular practitioner, what would you have liked someone to tell you when you were new? What’s changed in the quality of your life experience?

cheers,
Eliza

Stepping Up

Published on by elizaking

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“You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” ~ Martin Luther King, Jr.

We’ve all had the experience of getting in the groove with something, exercising, playing an instrument, eating healthily, practicing meditation, and then letting one week slip by without doing that activity. Then without meaning to skip it again, that one week stretches to two weeks, and becomes a month, two, etc.

A friend of mine voiced it well on Facebook. “Why do I always procrastinate on my Chi Gong practice when I know it’s something I want to do?” Someone else commented, “Welcome to the human race.” which made me giggle in resigned recognition.

For me, making time to write a new blog piece has slipped over the last couple months. I couldn’t find a topic to settle on and as days passed, it felt harder to follow up and take that risk of sharing again. I often have trouble discerning whether I really do just need a break from writing and a bit more time for reflection, or if this is part of my tendency to procrastinate.

I notice that when I procrastinate about writing, there may be something I would really like to write about, a real need to create and delve deeper, while at the same time, an old fear of being visible surfaces. I get blocked by self-doubt and a strong sense of unworthiness. Maybe the writers and artists (and others) among you will sigh in recognition.

There is always a challenge for me in being seen even as my creative side longs to be expressed and truly acknowledged. It was a relief to see my friend’s post on Facebook lamenting her procrastination and the subsequent humorous comment. What a timely reminder for me and, perhaps for you, that we are part of the human race and we get to be alive now and present in this moment.

So, in the spirit of letting go of my many missed chances, I am glad to take this opportunity, the wonderful one I have now, to start writing again and sharing with you. I would also love to hear any stories or comments you have about how you work with your own tendencies to procrastinate, and what helps you move past them.

Thank you,
Eliza

Recipe for Friendship

Published on by elizaking

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One of my most vivid memories of my friend, Dotz, is of her calling my name at the Farmer’s Market on a hot summer day in Takoma Park. Dotz and I had met a few times before that day, once at the local yoga center, and again, unexpectedly, in Connecticut at a weekend poetry workshop where we took a couple of long walks together and discussed the workshop. 

But that bright day at the farmer’s market stays with me. I didn’t recognize the voice calling my name at first and then I saw Dotz, loaded down with bags, smiling at me and waving.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” she said in her cheerful way, putting a couple bags down to give me a hug, “I’m taking a personal growth class in the fall which I think you would like.”
When I expressed interest, she invited me to walk back to her house a few blocks away to show me the brochure. I remember feeling excited that she had thought of me even though we didn’t know each other that well. I had the sense of a door opening between us, that I was being invited to step forward into the new space of a possible friendship. 

That was in 2003. Over the years our friendship has gone through a testing and deepening process as friendships must, as we’ve helped each other navigate through our lives.
We did take that personal growth class together, and then afterward, started doing a weekly phone check-in session with each other that continued for six years. In order to do this and be friends in daily life, we worked out rules of confidentiality and clear boundaries.  So besides helping each other through tricky experiences of depression, insomnia, a relationship breakup and a big move, we also did things like watching a tv series together, going appliance shopping, and cooking dinner at each other’s houses.

For both of us, our friendship has taught us to trust and believe in ourselves and celebrate our places in the world. Dotz says, ”Seeing and holding our friend’s strengths with more clarity than she could see them, allowed each of us to believe that those strengths were real and then gradually we began to “have” them and claim them for our own. A deep sense of lovingkindness and caring became a natural outgrowth and grew into a sense of interbeing and interconnectedness that we could trust as one little piece of what we sense and appreciate exists with all beings.”

We found that being able to explore and now even celebrate our differences and be accepted completely by the other person has given us each a taste of unconditional love. There is a sense of balance and wholeness in recognizing that we are our own best friend first, and that the other person is not there to do our work for us or to complete us.  I am very grateful to have this and other supportive friendships in my life.

So I invite you to take a moment now to call to mind someone in your life, a friend, family member or even a beloved pet, who has touched and supported you in your life. Feel the warmth of their presence around you now, as you breathe in and out, and allow yourself to bask in that warmth.  If you have any comments or friendship experiences you’d like to share, please do.

cheers,
Eliza

Seeing Birds

Published on by elizaking

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“Close both eyes to see with the other eye.”
—Rumi 

The anniversary birthday of my sister’s partner Nathaniel, an avid birder who died in an accident six and half years ago, occurred a few weeks ago in early January.
In celebration of Nathaniel’s memory and his joy in birding and in life, friends and family take this time to go bird watching and send emails to us all naming and counting the birds they see.

I have not participated before because of my limited eyesight, I am legally blind and mostly see a shadowy blur (if anything) when trying to spot birds. But I grew up with the names of birds, the colors of birds, and the calls of birds around us being identified enthusiastically and constantly by my ornithologist father.
So this year, when a wise friend suggested we try going to a nearby nature center which has a glass-walled room looking out on several bird feeders in a wood, I was delighted to try a creative way of joining the celebration and seeing more of the birds than I usually do.

As we sat gazing out at the trees and the leafy ground, the first animal my friend and I saw was a fat squirrel who parked himself under the feeder trees and gathered seeds from the ground the entire afternoon.

Then, once we were sitting quietly, the birds started coming, black-capped chickadees, white-breasted nuthatches, tufted titmice, and slate-colored juncos, all zooming in to peck seeds from the feeders and then away again.
A gang of purple finches swarmed and took over the feeder for awhile, keeping other birds off till they were done, except for a persistent downy woodpecker who ignored them but kept peeking at us around the feeder and trunks of trees. A fast fiery cardinal flashed to the ground beside the window beside us for a full moment as I stared at him. It was my first time seeing one, what a vibrant set of colors to wear all the time!
Little Carolina wrens and white-throated sparrows darted and pecked along the ground next to a pair of waddling mourning doves. At the end of the afternoon a red-bellied woodpecker arrived, whose head was actually red not his belly, one of those funny naming anomalies in the bird world. I started recognizing the colors and behaviors that signal specific species and began to identify birds as they returned to feed.
It was strange and wonderful for me to understand finally the draw of an activity that I’ve had described to me my entire life and never understood well. I have seen birds before mostly in abbreviated flashes of color, but that afternoon I was with them, immersed in the way they danced with the world around them.

The afternoon felt like a reaffirmation of Nathaniel’s life. The aliveness of the birds reminded me of the way he inspired and brought together the people around him. Because of this, emails from friends and family from all over the world, watching and counting birds were especially meaningful to me this year.

I am grateful to Nathaniel for giving me a belated insight into my father’s love of watching birds, like a reverse birthday gift!

I am also very grateful for the eyesight I do have which allows me to see and appreciate this fragile and beautiful world.

So I encourage you to pause a moment, and let yourself open to what is happening around you now, taking the world in with each breath and all of your senses. If you’d like to share your thoughts, please do!

Coming Home to Ourselves

Published on by elizaking
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.”

–Edith Sitwell

Dear Folks,


I was walking down a neighborhood street this week and suddenly realized I had no idea where I was. The snow made everything look different. I didn’t know whether I should keep going on or turn back. 
I couldn’t even remember where I had been a few minutes before because I had been on autopilot.

I stopped and looked up and down the street, not recognizing anything, feeling panic and a sense of unreality, was I dreaming this or was I really lost in my own neighborhood? Maybe if I just kept walking I’d recognize where I was.

Then I came to a jog in the sidewalk that I definitely knew was unfamiliar and I realized that I had missed a turn somewhere. I turned back and within a few blocks realized exactly where I was and went to greet the people who were waiting for me with a deep sense of gratitude and relief. It felt wonderful to be seen and welcomed by my little community.

After talking about this with several people, I have been interested to find that others are having a similar sense of discombobulation, almost like a sense of vertigo, surface in their lives during this time as well. 

I talked to a wise friend about how to work with this and her response really resonated with me.
“Keep it simple,” she said, “Just keep finding ways to come home to yourself.”

We all have ways to come home to ourselves: checking in with how we feel, counting to ten before we say something, following our breath as it moves in and out of our bodies, taking soothing baths, etc. 
I would love to hear any stories you may have about what happens when you get discombobulated and/or how you have learned to come home to yourself.

Cheers,
Eliza

Follow Your Rhythm

Published on by elizaking
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“As you begin to realize that every different type of music, everybody’s individual music, has its own rhythm, life, language and heritage, you realize how life changes, and you learn how to be more open and adaptive to what is around us.”
—Yo-Yo Ma

“One-two-three, One-two-three, One-two-three…” Does that sound familiar? Yesterday my music teacher helped me find my way into a rhythm with which I was having trouble.

She asked me to clap the rhythm out with her, tapping my foot on the first beat of each triplet.
As we clapped, the rhythm began to settle more easily into my body. I realized that I had been trying to use my head and think my way into learning something that needs to be experienced in the body.I had to let go my need to control and filter how I was taking in the information, and just let my body be in charge. The process felt important because it gave me a first-hand experience of my (and perhaps most of our culture’s) default pattern of taking in information with our minds.  We often don’t recognize when we need to let our body’s wisdom show us our way forward. It also reminded me that I need quiet time after I learn to digest new information fully.

What helps you to take in new information as you go about your day? How do you creatively balance your thinking time with your need to experience life in a kinesthetic way or just to relax? Please share a comment with us all.
cheers,
Eliza

flower“To reteach a thing its loveliness is the nature of metta. Through lovingkindness, everyone & everything can flower again from within.”
― Sharon Salzberg

Dear Folks,

The Fall 2013 online Stress Cleanse is in its last days and as always, I learn so much from our participants!

One woman writes,
“There was something that you said in the 60-minute meditation that I found really quite compelling.  I quoted you to half the world, but now I can only paraphrase – it was the idea of being kind to oneself and going gently through life.  It really struck me.  A shift in perspective makes all those sharp small things that one confronts brush by one safely or become near misses rather than slowly eroding one’s sense of well-being and comfort.”

What I learned again from this comment is how great an impact even a small choice of words has on someone.  That what we all say and do matters, including me.

Please be good to yourself today and this week, whatever that means for you:).  As you know already, that kindness will spill over into the world around you easily once you are full.

I have been reminded over and over lately that I need to remember to drink from my own mug first before I can genuinely serve others. I guess we are all passengers in an airplane learning how to put our own life vests on first before we help the person next to us!

What are some not-so-small instances of kindness you have noticed in the past few weeks?  Kindness accumulates in us so we’d all be grateful to have you share!

cheers,

Eliza

Refresh & Reset

Published on by elizaking

“For a short cleanse or refresh, I like taking a shower. The heat on my back draws my attention into that part of my body, pulling me out of my head into awareness of my whole body. The agenda of life feels so hard-edged sometimes. The water is a live metaphor for washing away anything that is blocking me. It comforts me.”

–Grace Evans, ADHD coach

Dear Folks,
I went through my closet and bureau drawers this week and cleared out all the clothes that didn’t belong there anymore. Some clothing items still evoke memories of people and places once part of my life: a sundress I can no longer fit into that I wore to a wonderful party in college, a too-large faded denim shirt given by someone close to me, a comfy pair of cords I wore into the ground. I couldn’t let go of those old clothes and old stories before, but now I find I can and am excited to make more space in my house and in my life.
This week and next I am also getting ready to offer an online Fall Stress Cleanse with my friend and fellow yoga teacher, Hannah Leatherbury. As Hannah and I reflect on why we offer this cleanse and what is important about cleansing and refreshing in general, my thought is that the process acts as a reset button. We need many ways to let go of the past and bring ourselves into the present moment, whatever those ways are. Hannah says, “For me, during the day, I’ll drink a glass of warm tea to refresh myself. The feeling of holding something warm in my hands and waiting for it to cool, slows me down and helps me feel like I’m taking my time the way I want to take my time.”
Over time we accumulate so many layers, old clothes, stories, habits that we just don’t need anymore. I noticed that once I folded and placed my clothes in bags by the front door, ready to go to Goodwill, I felt lighter, like there was more room to breathe. I also felt appreciative of all that I do have and the space I opened up to be who I am now.
I’d love to hear some of the ways you hit the reset button, what do you do to refresh yourself?

Cheers,
Eliza

P.S. The online Fall Stress Cleanse with Hannah Leatherbury and me starts Oct. 27th. For description and registration details, click here: http://www.hannahleatherbury.com/12-day-stress-cleanse.html

What We Need is Here

Published on by elizaking

baypic“….We open
a persimmon seed to find the tree
        that stands in promise,
    pale, in the seed’s marrow.
    Geese appear over us,
pass, and the sky closes…
    And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
        quiet in heart, and in eye,
    clear. What we need is here.”

-Excerpt from ’The Wild Geese’ by Wendell Berry

Dear Folks,

Last weekend I had the opportunity to participate in a silent meditation retreat. We drove a couple hours north in Maryland to stay in a lodge on a point of land where the Susquehanna River meets the Chesapeake Bay.

When we arrived, I stepped out of the car, into the scent of water on the humid air, and deep quiet all around us.  I felt as if I’d stepped into a different time and space, leaving behind the sounds of the car radio and traffic snarls.
During the weekend, we cooked, ate, and cleaned up each meal together in companionable silence. We sat and walked in silent meditation inside and outside, a few of us even waking up early enough to go down to the dock and silently watch the sun come up. One hot afternoon, we went kayaking and canoeing, reveling in the soft breeze off the Bay.

On the last day, I was able to see the silhouettes of Canada geese flying low over our heads against a cloudy sky. Because I don’t see well, it was very moving for me to be able to synchronize the sound of familiar honking calls with the vision of dark shapes rippling in formation across the sky.

Being silent in a group over time can create deep clarity. I find that listening to my own heart in silence opens up space for me to be fully aware of what I need and how I feel. At the beginning of the retreat before going into the silence, we shared our expectations, hopes and fears, and at the end, discussed our actual retreat experience. One participant said that being with 15 other people in silence had opened her to a visceral awareness of the realness of other people’s physical daily needs and limitations, helping her feel compassionate with them and herself.

In being silent together, we make a space where we can finally listen and be present with everything that is happening inside and outside of ourselves, a space where we truly see and appreciate what is right in front of us.

cheers,

Eliza