Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.
For once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness...
The best time is late afternoon
when the sun strobes through
the columns of trees as you are hiking up,
and when you find an agreeable rock
to sit on, you will be able to see
the light pouring down into the woods...
Read MoreSome time ago, I wrote about Conspicuous Contentment, suggesting that contentment lies not in having, doing, and being more, but rather in simultaneously wanting less while appreciating the abundance that is already ours. A few days ago, I stumbled across this beautiful reminder on a social media site, a short essay attributed to an unknown author, entitled I Wish You Enough. After a little research, I found the original essay by Bob Perks.
I WISH YOU ENOUGH
Recently, I overheard a father and daughter in their last moments together at the airport as the daughter's departure had been announced. Standing near the security gate, they hugged and the father said:
Read MoreIn a world that typically encourages us to advance—subscribing to outdated conventional notions of progress involving some perpetual motion forward, onward, and upward to some where—the idea of a “retreat” can seem somehow regressive and unappealing, even conjuring images of defeat, escape, and failure. These associations, though limiting, are not unfounded. Indeed, the phrase “beat a retreat” arose during times of early warfare in which a drummed communication, a particular beat, customarily signaled troops on the battlefield to disengage from combat.
However, the essence of retreats—temporarily withdrawing from the fray—extends well beyond military conventions and connotations....
Read MoreRecently, a friend published this quote on FB: "Chronic ecstasy is a learnable skill."
Chronic. Ecstasy. A strange juxtaposition. Chronic, often associated with a less healthy form of constancy—as in chronic pain. And ecstasy, often associated with a less healthy form of drug-induced high—as in rave culture drug of choice.
My initial response was one of both affirmation and caution. Yes, chronic ecstasy is indeed a learnable, even valuable, skill, and yet, chronic ecstasy without discerning engagement is simply self-indulgent escapism...
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Murmuration from Sophie Windsor Clive on Vimeo.
The Great Scarf of Birds
Ripe apples were caught like red fish in the nets
of their branches. The maples
were colored like apples,
part orange and red, part green.
Read MoreRecently, I was fortunate to be one of the many thousands of people gathered together in Seattle for Seeds of Compassion with His Holiness the Dalai Lama, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and other noted speakers. For five remarkable days, faces beamed, hearts bloomed, and commitments sprouted in response to a simple, yet profound theme of growing compassion in and for the world...
Read MoreAt a recent gathering Robert Kegan shared a Russian folktale worth repeating:
On a bitter cold winter day, on his way to chop wood, a woodsman came across a little bird almost frozen in the snow. Despite his hurry to accomplish the task at hand, he just couldn't bring himself to leave the little bird to freeze to death, so he picked up the little bird and held it close to his chest to warm it. As he stood there warming the little bird, he realized that his impulse to rescue the little bird now posed quite a dilemma: how was he going to get his wood chopped while holding a small bird in his hands?
Read MoreThroughout history, we humans have used art to express ourselves. We create art not only to represent and beautify our world, but also as a means of understanding and sharing who we are in our world. Through creative self-expression, we grow in self-awareness, generate insights, resolve problems, and enhance our overall well-being.
However, if you're like many adults, somewhere along the way you may have decided, perhaps without even realizing it, that art-making is not for grown-ups, or at least not for grown-ups like you. As much as you may like art on the walls and (especially if you share your home with children) the refrigerator, it seems the art-making is best left to artists and children. After all, when it comes to art, isn't patronage the appropriate role for productive members of society?
Read MoreAnother marvelous post entitled "The Source of Rainbows" by Bob Brady at PureLand Mountain...
"It comes to me in the knife-edge cold of the winter night, out here on the deck for one last look at the stars before sleep, that what we all need, what we all seek in the streets and rooms, meadows and museums of our ways, is a place to wonder. Not to be taught, but to wonder...
Read MoreI recently had the privilege of attending an Open Space retreat on Bowen Island hosted by friends, Michael Herman and Chris Corrigan, where I had some time to reflect on opening space.
My approach to open space—and life in general (sometimes this distinction seems irrelevant)—is about receiving as much as inviting—receiving what is offered; what wants to be received. Whenever I open space, I invite people to consider that each person in the space is a gift just waiting to be received. All we have to do is open our hearts and minds to receiving each other. If we do nothing else, that will have been profound—indeed, sometimes, that’s the most profound thing that we can do, a prerequisite for everything else...
Read MoreOn the way home from the airport the other day, my cabdriver, a charming man from Ethiopia, asked me where I'm from--a seemingly simple question for which a suitably simple answer still eludes me. Where am I from? My birthplace? My heritage? My nation? My current place of residence? Born in Rhode Island, the child of an American mother and European father, living abroad most of my childhood, moving frequently as an adult, and currently anchored on Bainbridge Island, I often feel as if I'm from nowhere and everywhere...
Read MoreTraining began with children who were taught to sit still and enjoy it. They were taught to use their organs of smell, to look when there was apparently nothing to see, and to listen intently when all seemingly was quiet. A child that cannot sit still is a half-developed child.
Standing Bear, Lakota Indian Chief
I read this quote years ago, and have recalled it often in idle moments, sometimes as a reminder to quell mindless doing...sometimes as an invitation to rejoice in endless being. Sometimes, I just wonder what Standing Bear would say about a world filled with so many half-developed adults...
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