SOMETIMES

This poem is lovingly dedicated to my dog-niece, Zoey, who was everything wonderful about snow ... and life. She loved everyone lavishly and had a soulful exuberance to life that is missed by all of us. There was and there will always be one Zoey Girl. Her passing took our breath away, just like snow sometimes does as it falls.


Sometimes

When
     I write poetry
 I forget it is one digit writing
          From my good hand.

     I don't hear radios or tvs
            Or the groaning in the house.

I sometimes remember snow
                  As it drifts outside
           My window.
    Little white flurries flicker
 Across the periphery
                Of my eye
                      While Chance sniffs
                                       My hoodie.

                       Washing machine chugs along.

     And yet there is a stillness,
 A certain silence in the house,
             Zoey, in reflection, at the top of the stairs,
       One eye ready to open if a sound comes near.
                      Others off to work and school
                                 Tire prints fresh in snow.

I sometimes remember snow
         And lying face down in it.

                 S u d d e n l y
                       Then my world changed
                 Red bleeding into white
                             A dramatic interlude.

Sometimes I remember that.

             Mainly, I feel the snow
        Outside the window
                      The snow that recently left,
                                                             Melted.

 Or fresh puffs, white powder promise
          For thirsty lakes, parched from dry spells.

Sometimes I remember snow, snow balls and snow people,
     Scooping up fresh snowy heaps
                                  Glistening in sun
          Snow flurry pilings
                            That our dog did not find.

    Placed gently in a bowl, adding Hersey's
                 Chocolate, eating snow blizzards,
             Laughing with others
   Teeth chattering, cold and wet under
                           Coats and gloves.

I remember snow...

              First ski attempts, floundering,
       Collapsing in a snowy white mass,
                       Giggling, soaked and soggy
                  Falling again and again
                                   Slipping and sliding
             Sometimes on the
                            Hand held ski tow
                                            That pulls you way up
                               As you Lean Way Back
                                            It's nothing like riding a horse!

     Reaching the summit
         In my case sometimes,
                     Less than my friends,
               Pros at laughter
                         And scant snowy tumbles.

           Red fire logs burning,
                        In Ski Lodge Paradise.
                                   Hot chocolate never
                                                    Tasted so good.

                            Yet never missing it when I left.

            Though Snow makes for pretty pictures,
      Snow Angels,
               Laughter with nieces,
      Funny snow people with carrot noses,
         Joy with
               Puppies and dogs
                       As they run astonished,
      In Snowy cold satisfaction,
Up hilly mounds and down,
            Legs nearly buried as they plow through.
 
   Zoey standing outside in cooling snow
                         Flurries, licking snow patches
                                        Now and again
                                                With her tongue.

                           Standing vigil as her mother drives away.

    Snow takes your breath
                    Away
                          Like now
                               When She falls,
                  Flitters, swirls,
                               And flirts
                   Carpeting Mother Earth.

     Sun, Occasional Blue Sky,
             And Puff Cotton Clouds Sigh
                        In Reverent Mountain Chants.

           Snow twitters, mummers and purrs
                                          Still falling gently.

     Sunshine bursts through happy
                                With one hand clapping.

      Pine needles glisten,
               Mirroring Sunlight.
                            Bright Happiness giggles.

    Mountain stands steady,
                        Enjoying Creation
                As the Sun Kissed Snowy
                               Carpet dozes all around.

South Dakota International Black Hills Survival Gathering

Vicki and I were going to the South Dakota International Black Hills Survival Gathering  At the end of our ten day Buddhist meditation retreat, we knew we had to go. In Buddhism, the fourth noble truth shows us how to end individual and global suffering. Buddha taught that ignorance, greed, attachment and hatred are torments of the minds. These poisons were at cause in the Lakota people being denied safe water. 

The Black Hills Alliance and Lakota people of Pine Ridge Reservation discovered cancers, spontaneous abortions, and birth defects in 1980. In the WARN report (Women of All Red Nations) a biochemist documented that radioactive materials were in the water.

Those born into our western culture are conditioned to be at war with nature. Not accustomed to "sharing territory" we fight over it. As scarcity thinkers, we feel that we lack stuff: money, land, yachts, villas, glamor, being good enough. We feel empty, believing we need external reality to fill us with stuff. It keeps us at war. We feel inadequate. Without the time or ability to care for our resources...or our stuff. 

Vicki and I were ripe with this knowing. Flying commercially at this point made no sense. Neither did driving 1,374 miles. We returned to work and met early a few days later at a small-craft Oakland airport. We had a tent, sleeping bags and essentials. Our plan: hitchhike with pilots seeking company.

After six declines, we flew to Bakersfield, CA. We loved the blue sky so close to us and the pilot loved our company. After a long wait in searing summer heat, we hopped a ride to Tucson, Arizona. The pilot flew in close to the mountains. (Wow.)

From Tucson, we caught a flight to Albuquerque, New Mexico. For the next three hours, we hiked the long dusty road with 110 degree temperatures burning down our necks. With frayed nerves, we rested in the shade at the next airport, waiting for a plane to land for refueling. 

At twilight, we walked to Albuquerque International Sunport to ride standby. No luck: I slumped in a chair to sleep. Vicki stretched out under the chairs. At 5:00 am, security woke us. Grumpy, we hiked back to the small-craft airport. A small Leer jet was just landing. With my heart in my throat, I asked his destination: "South Dakota near the Black Hills." (Wow.)

"Can we catch a ride?" 

South Dakota International Black Hills Survival Gathering John Trudel opened the Gathering saying: "I would like to talk tonight in honor of all of us in the struggle who have lost our relations to the Spirit world." Later, Vicki and I hiked into the foothills to meditate with Mother Earth. We felt renewed by the mountains for the days ahead. 

When disconnected, we forget to love ourselves and each other. When our cups are full, we share territory. Within each of us lies an ability to connect with ENOUGH stuff: LOVE and NOURISHMENT. By letting go of baggage (our scarcity beliefs), we can open into abundance. We are nourished there. Refreshed, we will want everyone to eat, have shelter and good water.  

We can release poverty consciousness. We can let go of our conditioned ways. 

This past weekend I joined my family to empower my niece to pursue her dreams, moving to a new life and home, letting go of fears. 

Affirm: "I am enough. I am good enough. I succeed in my endeavors. I am grateful for Father Sun, Sister Moon, the stars, and water. I am satisfied. I am full." 

Reader, are you ready to embrace prosperity and release the old ways? Are you ready to embrace Gaia?

FIREDANCE

As I looked into the fire I was mesmerized by what seemed to be an apparition in full Native American regalia, dancing in the fiery cinders. He danced into a circle of flames, twirling and turning as if in ceremony. Others followed; he led them through a blaze of joy, wending this way and then that.

It was as if the flames knew him. They swayed in unison with his movement. Glowing red fire responded as if he was Spirit, Wind whispering through.

High steps of pale-colored moccasins rising and falling as he danced to a beat I could not hear. Fringed buckskin pants kissed crimson embers. His rattle danced high above his head. Amidst sizzling ruby red embers, I sensed droning sounds. Lively dancers chanted with heads bobbing and bodies flowing.

Others in our camp group had retired hours ago. Serita and I sat watch, tending the flames for a long time. The big logs we put on the fire flamed intensely. Embers then emerged, birthing new life as the thick fiery flames simmered. The burning coals produced a portal.

As I write, I smell the clean air and see the night sky hanging low with the thick red fire bowl beckoning. I am still enchanted by her charms. I hear a loud whoop catching in my vocal chords. I see the spiral dance. I see painted faces as they dance, move and whirl, rattles shaking the sky.

It is not now, but then.

I was careful not to disturb the fiery spirits. I was careful not to speak. My friend, Serita, kept a steady gaze into the flames and ember haze. The golden moon hung low in the sky. Stars twinkled. The night air was fresh, calm, and clear. Fragrances of throaty Chaparral and smoky sage merged with oak and pinon logs. I inhaled deeper, eyes fixed on the moving troupe’s fire dance.

It is past midnight when the embers subside. My dancing friends are gone. My throat catches as the last dancer fades. Serita and I pour water on dying embers and say good night. I lie still a long time, watching the stars through my tent flap.

After a long hike the next day, Serita and I offer to get fresh water for our campsite. Serita is the first to ask. “Did you see a young buck inside the fire bowl last night dancing?”

Why did I let myself write this after years of silence? My last two days were perfect days. Today had twists and turns. I got jarred. Others seeking respite hovered around me. I did not belong in stores amidst mundane chatter. I came home.

My inner voice soothed me: Stop. NOURISH YOURSELF.

I took small walks, sat in the sun, and prepared dinner early. No blog.

My inner knowing took me by surprise. “Write about the time when you were deeply nourished. Write about the fire dance.”

So, dear Reader, what captivating enchantment fed your soul that can now set your restless spirit free?

HOW TO BECOME A LEADER

As a child, I felt called to the Southwest. As a teen, I was selected to attend the Sangre de Cristo Mountains Girl Scout Roundup.

I was privileged to visit Bandelier Mountain beauty, Puye Cliff and Mesa Dwellings, the Santa Clara Pueblo, known as the Kha’p’oo Owinge of the Santa Clara people. In the first days, my heart heals.

We climb among ruins, mesas and kivas. Every pore of my being is satisfied. My eyes wide with vistas, mountain friendship, and ancestral whispers. It is the highlight of my journey.

Our time of beauty goes quickly; thick red rock colors enter my soul. I keep a pottery fragment on my Puja table. I carry a shard in my medicine pouch.

On the last night of our gathering, Girl Scout Executive officers arrive. That day we’re divided into groups of four, with little instruction, to trek the mountain and then return to base camp, sharing our leadership experience.

Nancy and I emerge as group leaders. We watch each other out of the corners of our eyes. Later, we whisper: “Do you know where we’re going?” “Nope, not a clue.” The other girls follow us, oblivious.

Nancy and I provide confidence through humor and encouragement. Five hours later, it’s clear we’re lost. Nancy sees a paved road. We laugh as we hop the fence to reach our destination. Until I spy the bull.

A shrill gasp catches the bull’s attention. Head down, he moves fast. We help each other over the barbed wired fencing, mere seconds from being gored.

In “never say never” leadership, Nancy and I wipe away sweat and blood and stick out our thumbs. We need directions. Ignored, we form a human chain across the road.

Instead of looping back to camp, we discover we’ve missed our trailhead. We came down on the wrong side of the mountain, miles from camp. It’s too late to double back. We ride in our rescuer’s truck bed, heaped with unmentionables. It’s another reason I became vegetarian. http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/07/confessions-of-vegetarian-day-i-heard.html

We arrive at camp, bloodied and hungry, our blouses ripped. Worried adults meet us. Realizing we’re not seriously injured, terse voices inform us we have fifteen minutes to put on clean dress attire. Adult leaders cast meaningful glances to Executive Officers; they glower at us.

Dauntless, we hatch a plan. In a huddle, we commit to the outrageous, hoping to not be kicked out. We quickly gather props and costumes. I pull my scout cap over my eyes. My shirt hangs out. Cindy wears her badge sash backwards over pajamas. We pull pockets inside out. We hold bug spray. Girls move away from us as we sit down for vespers.

After witnessing other girls’ somber portrayals, our foursome stands, heads held high, bumbling our way to the head of the campfire. With perfect authority, we parody our story, mocking our leadership. Nancy throws a shoe at a bug. Linda sits, arms crossed, back turned from the audience, refusing to move. We spray her with bug spray, yanking her up. We misquote Girl Scout slogans.

“A Girl Scout never prepares. She makes stuff up as she goes.”

Transformed as actors, we command amusement from girls and officials alike. Nancy and I act out our sham, leading the way, as more laughter erupts. With the “bull” onstage, we push and shove one another, climbing over imaginary barbed wire fencing. We bring the house down.

It’s my best leadership lesson: Situations pending disaster can shift through humor, honesty and engagement. I’m reminded of my last Equine Lesson, only days ago: There are no mistakes. Only learning.

So, Reader, what experience led you to greater authenticity and connection?

FOUR ELEMENTS: THE FIRST ELEMENT IS AIR

Of all the elements, air or wind is the most mysterious. It is what gives life to all creatures on this earth.  And when it is done, each of us has breathed our last.

                                                    ~Karla

Now Wind asked Ababinili if she could have the humans as her children, but again, Ababinili said, "No, they can't be your children, but they can be your grandchildren so you can remove the unclean air and all kinds of diseases.” 

                                                                           ~A Chickasaw Legend

http://www.littlewolfrun.net/ChickasawLegends.html

I AM THE WIND…

I am the wind who rages fiercely during a storm, who bows tree limbs over in pain, yanking branches and ripping leaves from their source. I am the wind who produces funnel clouds, destroying homes, pulling up the roots of trees and relationships held dear. I am the wind who whines low moans through the trees on an eerie dark night. I am spooky, for I scream a voiceless music, sending piercing chills up and down spines.

I am the wind who barks icy winds into winter, my biting breath seeking warmth beneath protective coats, whipping stabbing coldness into unwary backs. I am the wind who annoyingly blows precious papers from groping hands, sending them rolling, turning, and twisting.

Like a teenager bolting through the door, almost stepping on the dog, not noticing her grandmother sitting in a rocker in the living room...I am the wind.

I, too, am the summer breeze who sings sweet lullabies through the trees and over green grasses. I am the wind who gracefully pushes the sails of floating rafts. I am the hearty breeze who gives a reassuring voice to questing uplifted faces, sending a fresh air of heroic calm to surge within them. I am the wind who bears the seeds of tomorrow’s life, dispersing them over this vast earth.

I am the gusty breeze who blows through trees, swishing and dancing their leaves that tilt and sway in sheer ecstasy.  I am the quieting breeze who comes in comfort, wafting into musty corners, consoling children, dogs, and elders, as they lie weak and afraid. I am the autumn breeze who mournfully, yet resignedly, tugs at the leaves of yesterday’s life and sends them silently to the grounds of death. I am the gentle breeze who dries tears from red-eyed faces. I am the wind who gives seasons their life, dutifully answering the calls of my command.

I am in Nami and her gentle surprise of nosing my hand after the hike, saying, “Thank-you for taking the time.”

If I frighten you, is that not simply your response to me? I am not here to frighten you. I can be extreme: I can hurt, destroy, and give ghostly chills of doubt. And yet, I give comfort, strength, tranquility, grace and life. I can do only as my nature wills. My demands are great. I cannot choose to be only the soothing breezes. Would you rather that I end my breath, with nature fading out because there is no one left to blow the breath of life into her creation? Or will you accept me—my rasping and turbulent winds as well as my sweet and tranquil breezes—all my airs enunciating my offering to life?

IN THE NAME OF LOVE: Let The Bees Be

In the name of love, we need to find better ways.

The other day, with sweltering heat engulfing me (which is my favorite), I sat for just a bit in the sun at the local pool. I was ready to dive into my book, Beyond Innocence, Autobiography In Letters by Jane Goodall.

Instead, a neighbor greeted me. Our conversation led one thing into the other. One of my neighbor’s friends hurried down the steps to plunge in. I was standing on the other steps, readying myself to enter the cool waters.  In that moment, a bee stung me. Not just “ouch”, but time out for reflection.

When I had Lyme disease, I was highly allergic to bee stings. After a few words with the women at the pool, I went back home. While I have been stung only a few times, it was my first sting in a while. I had the meds, anyway, and I used them. Safety first. Epinephrine or homeopathic high dose remedies? I chose the latter. I was breathing easily, no headache, and the swelling on my arm, while near my heart, was not a balloon. Great! I am truly no longer allergic. Yippee!

While dashing about, I recalled my conversation with the three women before I left the pool. It was about African bees. In “Trip To Chimfunshi,” I describe the outbreak of bees into what was to be a notable relocation of baby chimpanzees. And notable, it became. http://namasteglobalvision.s3-website-us-east 1.amazonaws.com/NamasteTriptoChimfunshi%20copy.pdf 

What most disheartened me about the sting started at the pool. Even in the face of my calm demeanor, one woman wanted to drown the bees. Wow, how quickly the conversation turned to ’killing as the first solution'.  http://consultingforpassion.blogspot.com/2014/05/choosing-to-live-and-let-live.html

In the name of love, if we are going to put an end to the killing paradigm, we must find better ways. [1] 

I did not start out to write about bees but about other loving solutions. Because of that day, and the communications since, the bees leave Jane Goodall and her contribution in wait. http://www.janegoodall.org/study-corner-biography   So, bees it is.

The loss of bees was so important in 2011 that the keynote speaker, Ariana Stozzi, introduced the bees into our International Big Sky Horse Conference. By 2011, bees were a global concern. http://www.earthaction.org/2012/02/ccd.html 

So how is the world responding?  PBS Nature is offering a positive way. http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/episodes/silence-of-the-bees/how-can-you-help-the-bees/36/ 

Another way comes from: “We Save Bees”. What a loving solution.Visit groups like: http://honeylove.org/rescuebees/ and  http://www.wesavebees.com/.

One year, I did find a local beekeeper who removed bees and a nest from my home. Neither the beekeeper nor I were stung.  The bees were happy and continued to live.

Dear Reader, are you willing to explore? What is one practice you will engage in that sustains life in our precious ecosystem?

As for me, I close with an old favorite of mine from the intrepid “Sixties”:

Happiness runs in a circular motion.

Everyone is a part of everything anyway.

You can have everything if you let yourself be.

                                                     Donovan

[1] When I went to Africa, I did not realize how Apis Mellifica was made. Bees are killed in its preparation. Two homeopathic remedies for bee stings (vegetarian, not vegan), are Sulfur and Histaminum. Epi, of course, involves animal experimentation that both harms and kills animals.

A MOST PRECIOUS GIFT

When I am with Amba, I am in the presence of a huge heart, beating in rhythm with authentic life. In 1981, Amba introduced me to leadership development magic. Almost twenty years later, to evolve my non-profit, Namaste Global Vision (http://namasteglobalvision.org/), I took Amba Gale's Heart of Leadership course. I was trained originally in ontological leadership work that inspires cultures of love, honor and respect. It is a timeless field and Amba and I met again in that culture.

In another soul stirring “conversation course”, I received a most precious gift. Amba was letting go of chotchkies and venerated gems, making room for simplicity. LUCKY us who received these gifts. We sat in a circle at Harmony Hill Retreat Center. The view of Hood Canal was soothing, the work transformational. The LOVE, palpable. Tears come, remembering.

My box was carefully wrapped, with lavender and blue ribbons. Inside was a little ARK: NOAH was there on the ship with the animals. Around the ship Amba had carefully placed blue yarn attached to a little laminated card with these words inscribed:

Karla

Ushering forth the animals into safety

Loving them

Into safe haven

Knowing their magical powers, their healing, their spirit

Their loving presence that graces our world

You, like Noah, create such a space of belonging

Where wild and tame are the same

And there are no boundaries between humans and animals

And you touch and give of this ancient knowledge.

Being seen for who I am remains a most treasured gift. Being gifted Noah’s Ark is an honor. It is also a request of my heart and soul. I seek guidance from Ganesha, Hanuman and Buddha. I have changed; loving relations for planet, animals and humans seek me often.

What is the Noah path? Robert Ellsberg says that Noah was given a covenant that he and the animals were now protected in their journey.

Noah represented an ethic and spirituality concerned with the preservation of earth and the survival of endangered species and cultures; he might well serve as a patron of ecological stewardship. For the earth itself, as we know it, is a fragile ark. 

[The] covenant with Noah extends to his descendants ‘and with every living creature, the birds, the cattle, and every beast of the earth with you.’[1]

Emmet Fox, a metaphysical teacher, encourages that the Universe is a loving Being. He communicates that the Universe is a refuge and we are all supplied with an infinite power of wisdom and love.[2] There is a line in The Chandogya Upanishad that reads: “All creatures have their source in him. He is their home; he is their strength.”[3]

Was it essential being seen by Amba and others as I set voyage? YES. It inspires me still. It holds me steady during choppy waters. Being gifted that REFLECTION of who I am is a core element in my development. It keeps me faithful and honest.

What about you, dear Reader? When were you last seen for who you are? How does that support you when sailing into uncharted waters?

---

[1] Used with permission from All Saints. Daily Reflections on Saints, Prophets, and Witnesses for Our Time, by Robert Ellsberg (Crossroad, 1997) www.crossroadpublishing.com http://www.crossroadpublishing.com/crossroad/title/all-saints

[2] Power Through Constructive Thinking, by Emmett Fox, (Harper Collins, 1968) http://www.harpercollins.com

[3] Timeless Wisdom: passages for meditation from the world’s saints and sages, by Eknath Easwaran (Nilgiri Press, 2008) www.easwaran.org

HANG IN THERE, BUDDY. C’MON, NOW

Hang In There, Buddy. C’mon, Now

An atmosphere of "profound equivalency" guides all relationships [in the Andean culture]-- between humans and nature, between human and deities, between deities and nature. Each watches for cues for what will keep the other happy, and give affection and respect the other’s need.

                                                                     Priscilla Stuckey, Kissed By A Fox

In ontological organizational development, we say that there’s a field of relatedness where conversation lives. Here, we’re in connectivity and find our true sense of belonging. We contribute and allow ourselves to be held in this “equivalency.” In harmony with this principle, Priscilla Stuckey shares one Andean writer’s perspective: "With them [deities, animals and nature] we keep company; with them we converse and reciprocate."

“Hang in there, buddy. C’mon, now. Come on, baby.” This is the warm voice that the hypothermic dog heard, barely hanging on by his front paws, crying, having fallen into the icy waters. http://www.sunnyskyz.com/good-news/623/This-Dog-Was-Scared-And-Freezing-To-Death-But-They-Never-Gave-Up-On-Him 

There’s a connection in life, a thread wrapping around each of us in moments of being fully engaged. Charlie was saved and with him, his rescuers, the media, and each of us connecting with the situation.

A near eighty-year old woman gave up her dream of dancing to become a mother. With her children well into adulthood, she moved to Spain. Her husband died shortly after. Instead of retreating, she went into a dance studio. This woman fulfilled her dream, causing amazement and tears. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O2LMxf3Df6I  We’re all inspired when one of us goes the distance.

Pharrell Williams hired directors “who were out of the box.” His video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6Sxv-sUYtM lightened the world. His production of “Happy” spawned over a thousand videos of others singing his song. We all need to stay in this field of relatedness: earth, animals, humans, old and young. It really is that simple.

Engaging a group of professionals, equine-leadership style, is a happy moment of mine. The group had a practiced intimacy, or so I thought. “What’s one story of you being with a horse?” A simple question; stories poured out, each unique, moving.  “I loved my horse, and then we moved….” One woman was hesitant. She was afraid of horses.

In the twenty years of gathering together, this group never shared these touching horse memories or this depth of connection with nature. Horses have big hearts. They love people authentically. They are masters in the field of relatedness. While we talked “horse” in the group room, they milled around inside the arena.

When we went out to engage the horses, things got hushed; something sparked new awareness. In the first exercise, the horses laid down, a sign of feeling safe. The group felt this honor and a new energy field of gentleness was revealed. Horses, barn, earth, sky, sun and humans were united. The woman who was afraid? She asked to join in the exercise learning about trust. She broke into tears when connecting with her horse. She’s still talking about it.

How about you, reader? What’s your happy moment standing in a field of connectivity?

WHAT DO I REALLY WANT?

What We Want

What we want appears

in dreams, wearing disguises.

We don't remember the dream,

but the dream remembers us.

                             Linda Pastan

“Five Positions” is an organizational tool that views situations from multiple perspectives. A long while back, a friend invited me to assist and be an active participant in her Advanced Skills Training course.

I was an example of fifth position. Fueled by spiritual values, I viewed my work and recreation sourced in universal truths. “If I am committed, do my actions bring peace?” My friend offered participants an overview; I easily “groked” the four positions. When fifth position came, I asked: “Am I really aligned with the highest truths?” When called upon, I shared my doubts. A participant, a CEO in the #1 position of self-interest, piped up: “If she doesn’t feel she’s living her core values, what hope is there for the rest of us?” There was laughter from others, a red face from me.

I’ve been working all the positions for years. Yet, as Achilles’ heels go, I keep returning to embody position #1: “What do I want?’ Recently, this straight-thinking eighty-year nun asked: “Do you know what your spiritual weakness is?” Head down, I mumbled, “No?” She responded, “You’re not entitled!” Jeez, if a nun, for God’s sake, is asking me to get a little self-interest, what’s one to do? Wait for the Pope?

Do you know, dear reader, what position is your Achilles’ Heel?

Two weeks ago, a mentor and three friends raised the stakes. “You are the most important person in your life. Repeat after me!” So gauntlet down, head up, I rose to the occasion. One of these friends urged me to post my poem. With my soul in my throat, I thought I’d give it a go.

“Because I am the most person in my life”

When I got off the phone

I did not call Jena

To see if she wanted to go

On a walk tomorrow

I went on a walk right then and there

With the sun still out

Pouring into my body

Early enough

I fixed myself the meal

I had been wanting

For a long time

To make

Aloo Gobi

I used all the cauliflower

I was not sparing

I used the best spices

I did not think 

Of whom else to serve this dish

It was for me

And because I did not 

Make extra calls

Or fuss at my desk

Before allowing myself 

A walk and a meal

I watched daylight 

Merge into dusky hues

Looking out my window

I noticed first bloom of

Cherry Blossom flowers

That last only a few weeks

Because it was still light

I walked outside

And told the flowers

Hello

WU WEI

“What are you doing up there? It’s awfully quiet.”

“I’m doing nuthin’.”

“It is way too quiet for you to be doing nothing.

Don’t make me come up there.”

As old memory enters, I hear a mentor’s words rolling around in me. “Relax. You’ve done your work. You are moving forward. From within. I say again, relax and enjoy your steps.”

I teach and live leadership development: learning to let go, hold hands with Being: let Being do the heavy lifting. My mind tells me that I may as well be taking a pass at an Olympic gold medal as to drop completely into the zone. Some part of me, a marathon runner, sees the next goal post up ahead. She cannot stop running. Must have been all those Wheaties I ate as a kid.

Saturday arrives with my declaration for rest. “Ah, nice to kick back.” Seconds later in the shower the saboteur enters: “Be nice to get your desk cleaned.” “ George and Linda seem like they hit a rough patch. Call them, eh?” I turn up the hot water. “Today, relaxing; no agenda,” I tell my Wheatie’s fan.” If a mind could pout, mine certainly would have.

Nowhere to go. “Ah, but the project,” the yelping voice protests. “Ah, we’re not doing that today.” “Huh?” And so it goes.

Surrender comes: Wu Wei. “Go to the pond,” the no voice says. And so I do. A sigh from body, groan from mind.

Once there, I notice the quietness of water, the lilt of fountain spray, Canadian geese resting. Calla lilies in cozy harbor. My neck releases taut muscles. My legs move slowly in steady stride. Camera hangs loosely. I walk to the water’s edge and to the calla lilies. Casually, I lift my camera.

Wu Wei is the wisdom of non-action or non-doing. Laozi tells us that when we are in harmony with the Tao, we conduct ourselves in natural and uncomplicated ways. I like that.

The geese slowly paddle near my favorite bench. We hang out together, in stillness. I remember hanging out. Just sitting, resting. No reading. No nuthin’.

Quiet for a while. Then mind blurts out: “Do you think the camera will bother the Mallard ducks?” “Will that couple make the geese swim away?” No longer engaged by its chatter, I let my thoughts drift in and out, as if clouds wandering by.

“When mind moves away from noticing breath,” Vipassana meditation teachers say, “gently bring it back.” “When your mind wanders away from a passage prayer line,” passage meditation teachers say, “quietly bring it back to that line.”

Geese continue to groom as I tell my mind: “Slow down, slow down, slow down.” As ducks take to flight, I let my camera join them in play and gratitude.

I watch ripples of water, ducks swimming, their smooth landings from flight, a thing of grace. When thoughts enter, I gently return to the water, just noticing. It calms my spirit.

Camera down, mind quiet, I lie down and just “be”. Doing nuthin’. The geese now cease grooming, stare into the water, not moving, as when I arrived.

“By jove, I think she’s got it,” warm breeze seems to say. Geese and I are present, in tranquility. Doing nuthin’.