Meditative Musings: Brood X Cicadas May 31, 2021 16:02

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It's a Sunday afternoon. I'm sitting outside in the backyard listening to the Brood X cicadas sing in the trees. One of our neighbors is tooling around his yard on a lawn mower, but the cicadas are drowning him out.

There's a distinctive undercurrent of sound--like a constant "Ha" or a steady, but subtle baseline, and then a spiraling, melodic layer of sound pressing over it. I love this sound--this steady crescendo and decrescendo--and I love the creatures who create this sound; they inspire me, and they motivate me to continue to practice.

Any creature that burrows underground and stays "in retreat" for seventeen years, emerges, molts, mates, and sings all while constantly at risk of being eaten by just about every other creature (ants, birds, squirrels, raccoons, dogs, etc.) has my total respect.

Cicadas are mascots of endurance and patience, and it's particularly fitting that their emergence coincides with our own cautious emergence from the COVID-19 pandemic, at least here in the U.S.

For the last couple of weeks, I've wandered around our yard every morning and afternoon examining the trunks of trees for their empty husks--or, exuviae--evidence of successful molts.

And they are everywhere! Scattered in the grass, stuck to the undersides of leaves, they cling to the bricks of our home and line the outer edges of our garage door.

Not all of them make it. I've seen several "failed molts" of would-be cicadas trapped in their former "nymph" selves, unable to escape--or they escape, but with crumpled wings damaged in the molting process. When I see them, I whisper "Om.Ah.Hum" on their behalf.

A few days ago, I was lucky enough to witness a successful molt from start to finish. It was a cool, foggy morning, and I noticed a dark brown shell at eye level on a cherry tree in our front yard. This exoskeleton didn't have a vertical split down the center of the thorax, so I knew the shell was still occupied.

I wandered around for a few minutes looking at other trees in the yard. When I came back, the shell was pulsating, so I decided to stick around.

I stood by the tree and watched this cicada emerge from its exoskeleton--the entire process took a little over an hour.

It wriggled and pressed its way out of the confines of the exoskeleton that protected him in the earth. His body was pale, and his wings were small and delicate. 

When he emerged, he looked like he was doing a back bend until his wings and all six legs were free from the shell. He moved, wriggled, and stretched all of his legs, then returned toward the tree, climbed over his shed exoskeleton, and rested until his crumpled wings slowly unfurled and dried. Then, he took his first steps as an adult cicada and began to climb up the tree.

You may be wondering, at this point, what on earth does this have to do with meditation practice? This is a valid question.

Today is Monday--Memorial Day--and I took some time to sit outside to meditate this afternoon.

The temperature was cool, and the sky was cloudy and overcast.

I closed my eyes and listened underneath the intermittent bird song, the occasional slam of a car door, the sputtering motor of a nearby riding lawn mower, and the sound of a motorcycle accelerating in the distance. Beneath these distinct "sounds of samsara" was a constant hum that seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

What started as the roar of applause, or the sound effect from a B-rated sci-fi flick, transformed into the hush of cause and effect, the infinite sigh of the earth, the soft, primordial thunder that held all other sounds together. It held space for sound, and it, too, was the sound of space. This ubiquitous murmur was the sound of transformation, the backdrop of interconnection, and a beautiful reminder that life is precious, that time is limited.

 This is the sound of generosity; this is the sound of ethics; this is the sound of patience; this is the sound of joyful effort, this is the sound of focus, and this is the sound of wisdom.

For me, these Brood X cicadas are simple but powerful symbols that embody and sing the benefits of daily practice. All we have to do to benefit others, as well as ourselves, is to observe, to listen, and to be still.

 May you all enjoy the remnants of this holiday weekend, and may you all find time for your own practice today....and every day.

Thanks for reading or listening. If you haven't checked out the Middle Moon Malas online shop in a while, be sure to visit middlemoonmalas.com. I've added a few new designs recently that you might like.

Take care, everyone!

Taking Action and Responsibility for Your Own Practice April 30, 2021 10:52

  If you would prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click HERE.

When I was a very young kid, my family moved into an apartment complex on the far east side of Indianapolis. Braeburn Village was a brand new complex in 1970, and we were one of its earliest tenants.

I was very curious and playful as a kid (as most kids are), and I would sometimes peer into the windows of the first floor apartments to see how other families lived. I was curious about what they were doing, how they spent their time, and, most importantly, what they were having for dinner.

Often, the windows revealed dark, empty kitchens, but since then, I have always been curious about how other people lived their lives. It was important for me to feel like I belonged.... and that I fit in.

I have long since abandoned peering into my neighbors' kitchen windows :), but this need to fit in, to feel connected and understood... well, that still lingers.

Even now, I can be easily influenced (and overly curious) about what others do--to the point that I question my own judgement and whether the way I choose to do things is OK. This tendency can be a blessing... and a curse.

Comparing myself to others, and then changing or adapting in order to accommodate can be unnecessary. It often hinders learning for me and can lead to great frustration and confusion. At other times, it can enhance the learning process, accentuate curiosity and play, and lead to discovery and more creative and innovative ways of doing things.

I've been studying the Tibetan language for a little more than a year. Because of COVID, my lessons have been online. I've been working with a wonderful teacher, who is originally from Lhasa, and one other student.

We've been using a textbook that is fairly advanced and not really ideal for new language learners, so from the very beginning, the weekly lessons were challenging. As we progressed more deeply into the text, the lessons became even more overwhelming and stressful for me.

I didn't think much about it at first since everything was new in the beginning. I expected some degree of confusion. Confusion, after all, is an important aspect of the learning process, and it can often be a motivator for discovery. However, as we made our way through the chapters, my confusion and frustration escalated, rather than subsided. The information in the text was daunting to me, and it lacked clear explanations and adequate exercises for practice.

Unfortunately, my need to fit in, belong, and stay caught up pushed me to continue. It would take me hours to complete the short, weekly exercises, and, worst of all, nothing was sticking. I wasn't retaining the information from week to week. This drinking-from-a-firehose technique of learning was NOT working for me, and it was crushing my curiosity, playfulness, and motivation to learn this beautiful language.  

  My fellow classmate, however, LOVES this book. He enjoys sifting through mounds of information and was even pushing to move even faster through the text.

My need to keep up and my tendency to accommodate others hit a wall in the middle of Chapter 5. I reached out to two friends for additional resource suggestions. One is a professor of Tibetan Studies; the other is a translator for a Tibetan lama in Canada. Both recommended additional texts that might be helpful for me.

I also reached out to my Tibetan teacher and asked if she could work with me individually. She agreed that the book we were using was too advanced (for both me and my fellow student) and agreed to work with me on another day of the week.

By taking action and responsibility for my own learning, I have a renewed sense of commitment, curiosity, and motivation. I'm honoring what works for me, and I'm looking forward to slowing down and focusing on just a couple of concepts at a time--and taking more time to practice, play, and explore with those concepts before adding additional information.

In this case, "keeping up" was NOT helping; it was actually hindering my progress. It was also sabotaging my motivation and mental health.

The new books my friends recommended have arrived this week. I'm looking forward to diving in and exploring them on my own terms and in my own way. I'm also looking forward to the one-on-one sessions with my teacher soon.

***

Sometimes, however, examining a subject from a different perspective can be inspiring--and can even ENHANCE one's practice.

Recently, I've joined an online book group. We are reading Lama Rod Owens' Love and Rage: The Path of Liberation through Anger. 

We meet twice a month and discuss a few chapters at a time.

Last week, we discussed Chapter 4, which includes detailed descriptions of several personal meditation practices that Lama Rod incorporates regularly in his own practice.

I appreciated that he took the time to carefully outline and explain each step of each practice. 

He explained each part of the practices by including examples, and he also followed up each with a brief outline. Lama Rod carefully explained at least a dozen specific practices in this chapter.

I found these detailed descriptions to be extremely useful, and I even had time to explore and play with a couple of them before we had our most recent book club meeting. His explanations have enhanced my own personal meditation practice.

Ironically, during our online discussion, a few members of the group found this chapter to be daunting and overwhelming: "TMI for one chapter."

They wondered if Lama Rod could have mentioned one practice at at time--maybe dedicating one chapter to each practice rather than cramming all twelve into one chapter.

This made me think of my online Tibetan class, and my classmate who loved the TMI text--but my frustration with it.

Although, compared to the Tibetan text, Chapter 4 in Lama Rod's book was nothing in terms of being too confusing or overwhelming :) !

I didn't feel compelled to try ALL of the practices, and the ones he outlined weren't linear. In other words, I didn't have to practice the first one before experimenting with the second one, etc.

I read through the chapter, picked a couple to explore, and enjoyed the practices as a result.

I may not need to take the time to explore the remaining practices. I took what I needed and moved on.

Learning has always been an important part of my life, and everyone learns in a different way. Trying to fit into someone else's learning style or educational paradigm is NOT a good thing.

Learning to honor my OWN path and to follow what fascinates and nourishes me has been a lifelong journey, too, just as honoring what fascinates and nourishes others--giving them the space to explore their own path is just as valuable and important.

At this point, I'm back on track. I'm curious, playful, and motivated about continuing to learn Tibetan in a way that resonates with me. I'm also fascinated about bringing fresh awareness into my personal meditation practice by learning more about what works for Lama Rod and the other members of my book club group.

Peering into my neighbors' kitchen windows when I was a kid has been a helpful and humorous metaphor for gauging if it's appropriate to follow along with others, abdicating my own viewpoint (and power) in the process. However, that's not always the best approach. Learning to observe, listen, and trust myself, to take responsibility and action for what fosters and nourishes my own curiosity has been an even more powerful life lesson.

This process turns the kitchen window metaphor around for me, and it involves paying closer attention to what's happening in my own "kitchen," appreciating that it, too, has value, worth, and the potential to nourish. Viewing the world through this lens (or window) allows me to acknowledge and appreciate my own perspective, and it also allows me to observe what's happening in the outer world while simultaneously maintaining a sense of connection, belonging, and understanding.  

While you're here, I invite you to check out the current Middle Moon Malas online collection. Several new designs have been added to the online shop. These one-of-a-kind designs are made with love and care, and they're intended to enhance your meditation, movement, and wellness practices.

The Best Laid Plans: Celebrating Joy on the Path March 29, 2021 13:26

If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, please click here. 

 Years ago, long before I practiced meditation on a daily basis, I used to worry when things went according to plan, which seems like a silly thing to do, now that I look back. However, I was convinced that something was bound to go wrong, or that an unexpected glitch would send everything crashing to the ground.

A regular meditation practice has taught me that planning is useful, but being attached to the plans is not so good. Circumstances can shift at a moment's notice, and priorities can turn on a dime. Besides, it's rare for things to go exactly as planned.

This past Sunday, my son-in-law arranged for several family members and friends to meet at a local park. It was a surprise adventure for my daughter. He was planning to formally propose, and he wanted all of us to be there to witness it and celebrate.

Technically, Elise and Christopher are already married. They had an intimate garden wedding last June at our home. However, because of COVID restrictions, they wanted to have a more formal ceremony later this year in order to celebrate with more family members and friends.

Christopher scoped out the best trail in the park, and he arranged for various couples and family clusters to spread out and "hide" on the path. Each person was given a flower to hold.

The plan was for Elise and Christopher to walk along the trail together and "happen to encounter" various friends and family along the way. They would give her their flowers, chat briefly, and Elise and Christopher would continue on the path.  By the end of the trail, Christopher's parents, Jim, and I  would be waiting to greet them both with a beautiful vase full of flowers. At this point, Christopher would kneel down and pop the question.

He even arranged for friends to stop by their house and pick up Kevin, their dog. Kevin would be carrying a flower, too (a squeaky toy version) and he'd be wearing a sign around his neck that read "Will U Marry Dad?"

Keep in mind, nearly 30 people were invited to participate in this event, and some friends were traveling several hours in order to attend. It's springtime in Indiana, which means we could have a torrential downpour, a tornado, or a blizzard all in the same week. So, what could possibly go wrong? 

Well, fortunately, the weather turned out to be absolutely beautiful. We had had a significant rain the day before, but the trails were dry, and a 60 degree day with full sun is about as good as it gets this time of year. 

Most everyone arrived at the park on time. We had plenty of time to spread out along the trail to wait for Elise and Christopher to arrive.

Other hikers paused and asked about our flowers. We let them in on our family plan.

The only hiccup, really, was a garter snake who surprised Christopher's mom while she was sitting on a fallen log, but that wasn't a big deal. No human or snake was harmed in this surprise encounter.

We were all on the path together, and we were all here for a common purpose, to support each other and celebrate this day with Elise and Christopher.

From the woods, we could see their car pull into the crowded parking lot, and we watched as they made their way to the head of the trail.

We could hear their voices mingling with those of friends and family, their laughter ringing through the branches.

At the end of the trail, friends and family gathered under an archway. Kevin, wearing his sign, sauntered behind Christopher, who knelt into soft soil and proposed. 

It was a beautiful moment, and everything fell into place in order for it to happen.

Afterwards, we gathered at Christopher's parents' home for a barbeque and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

It's been my experience that intention has a lot to do with the success or failure of a scheduled event or plan. It's certainly not the only factor, but I tend to find that if the intentions are positive, the outcomes will be, too.

Another necessary component is having a relaxed, flexible mindset. We did not have any rigid taskmasters in our group, thank goodness. Nothing saps the good vibes out of a fun surprise more than an anal-retentive group leader or project manager who insists on a specific time table or arbitrary rules. Christopher had created a clear plan, he shared the general instructions with everyone involved, he made arrangements in advance with a florist and with friends to pick up Kevin, and then he left it up to all of us to do our part. He was relaxed and committed to making this a special day for Elise.

Finally, not worrying about "what ifs," "glitches," and "worst case scenarios" is important as well. These only muck up plans and create unnecessary anxiety for the participants, especially worrying about things that are not in your control (like the weather, for instance).

Plans are important and necessary. They offer a bit of structure and organization to our lives, and they give us things to look forward to. Celebration and joy are equally important. They add meaning to our lives and give us an opportunity to share that meaning with others. Being flexible, relaxed, and having clear, rock-solid intentions not only benefit a personal meditation practice, but they can also help us implement and enjoy our plans and goals.  

This planned surprise proposal was a success for everyone involved, especially for Elise and Christopher. 

Be sure to check out the Middle Moon Malas online shop for one-of-a-kind mala designs to support and nourish your own personal meditation practice. Spring is a time for renewal, and renewing your practice with a new mala is cause for celebration and joy! 

Gratitude and Interdependence: Celebrating Connection February 25, 2021 19:03

 If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

This February marks the sixth anniversary of Middle Moon Malas, so this month’s blog post is an offering of gratitude and an acknowledgment of the importance and benefits of interdependence.

The last six years have been a slow, steady adventure in learning, growing, and building self-esteem and confidence in the world of business, and I couldn’t have come this far without the help of a lot of people.

I am so grateful to my friend Micaela who saw potential in me even before I recognized it in myself. We met (and survived) in a yoga teacher training program. With her business experience and savvy, combined with her amazing tech skills, patience, and grace, she helped me set up my business website and business plan.

I am also grateful for Bill, my SCORE mentor (Service Corps of Retired Executives), who met with me once a month for a year to offer wisdom, resources, and practical business guidance.

I am grateful for Shopify and their tech support! I haven’t had to contact them often, but when I did, they were there for me—to help guide me and answer questions without judgment or making me feel like I was a burden or a nuisance.

I am extremely grateful for the bead suppliers that I have found on this path. They have helped me to create beautiful designs—whether they were local brick and mortar bead shops and craft stores, online Etsy sellers, big name wholesalers, or friends who donated beads.

I am grateful for the makers, manufacturers, and distributors of the supplies and tools I use in order to create mala designs and ship them to their new homes—pliers, needles, scissors, tissue paper, bubble wrap, boxes, insulated bubble mailers, and packing tape.       

I am grateful for the USPS—all of the postal employees I have interacted with have been reliable, friendly, dedicated, professional, and patient. I appreciate their service immensely!

I am grateful for the woman from Estonia who reached out to me on the Contact Us page to suggest that I add an audio file to each blog. She enjoys reading my monthly posts, but reading is a struggle for her due to vision challenges. It took a little while, but I figured out a way to do that. Now, I look forward to writing—and reading-- each month’s blog posts. I’m talking to you today because of this woman. Personally, I was amazed that someone from Estonia (or anywhere else in the world, for that matter) was reading my blogs.

I am grateful for the ability to view on my admin page where visitors to the website are from: Ireland, Kenya, Australia, Portugal, Poland, Spain, France, Malaysia, Canada, Brazil, Seychelles, New Zealand, Thailand, and all the individual states in the U.S.

MMM is a teeny, tiny independent micro biz, but it’s connected to the whole world. I’m on my own, but I am certainly not alone. I definitely could not have embarked on this journey without the help and support from others.

Most importantly, I am grateful to the many friends, fellow practitioners, clients, and customers who have purchased malas, for themselves or others, or who have requested custom designs.

Some have been gifts for loved ones.

Some have been healing offerings for those battling and recovering from illness.

Some were for those who wanted babies, meaningful career paths, new homes, safe travels, and loving relationships.

Some were peace offerings.

Some were for yoga studio owners and their students.

All were made with love, dedication, and care.

If I knew ahead of time what the mala was for (and you don’t have to have a specific reason or intent, but some do), if I knew ahead of time what the specific intention was, I would whisper, speak, or sing mantras of compassion, healing, strength, etc. as I strung the beads, secured the knots, and wrapped the tassels.

More often than not, I don’t know who the malas are for, and sometimes, I have to be patient and wait for their “people” to find them. Whether I know who they are for or not, I put great care into creating each design.

My hope is that these malas inspire others to practice, whether it’s seated meditation, mindful walking, japa, yoga, alternative movement modalities, or just trying to be a good person in the world…

My hope is that these malas support and serve others’ personal practices in a positive, meaningful way.

I love what I do, and even though I may be an independent micro business owner, I couldn’t do this without the help of all of you.

This business adventure over the last six years has taught me the value and power of interdependence, and also the many blessings and benefits that heartfelt gratitude brings.

I’m very grateful to be able to offer these malas out into the world, and I am extremely grateful to all of you who have read the blogs, visited the website, liked, shared, and commented on social media posts, and purchased designs from the online shop, or requested a custom design.

It has been a wonderful six years, and I’m looking forward to creating even more heartfelt, hand-crafted mala designs for many years to come.

Thanks, everyone! 

Movement and Mantra: Connecting Breath, Body, Heart, and Mind January 28, 2021 09:17

If you prefer to listen to this month's blog post, (and you might since I've included a mini-meditation in this article) please click here.

I started my morning with a Feldenkrais lesson. 

It wasn't something I had planned to do, although I typically do practice some sort of Awareness Through Movement lesson at some point during the day. However, today, I happened to catch Joe Webster's live class on his Thoughtful Movements FB group.

Joe is a Feldenkrais practitioner in London, and typically, when he teaches his live classes, it is very early in the morning for me. Luckily, I was awake today and decided to practice with him.

I was still in bed, and even though he instructed us to do the lesson in a seated posture, I decided to practice lying down. I scooched pillows out of the way so I could stretch out comfortably. Maya was curled up at my feet snoring softly.

This morning's lesson was very subtle--focusing on the breath and the connection between the ribs and the vertebrae of the thoracic spine--more specifically, the thick, cartilaginous discs between each vertebra.

Joe has a very soothing, calming voice, and he began the lesson by inviting us to focus on our breathing--to notice how the chest cavity would gently rise and fall with the breath.

Then, he asked us to imagine the vertebrae of the middle back spine--to notice how these bones would gently lift on each inhalation, and then softly fall back on each exhalation.

He led us through an investigation of each disc between the twelve vertebrae of the thoracic spine. We spent a few minutes on each disc--observing the breath (about ten breaths for each disc)--and imagining each disc rise and fall softly with our breathing.

Joe didn't suggest this, but I realized that ten breaths and eleven discs add up to about 108, so I decided to incorporate a simple mantra into this early morning practice. (There are perks to being a bit of a rebel--I found doing this lesson lying down on a soft surface to be extremely helpful, and incorporating a mantra practice with it was the icing on the meditative cake!)

The mantra I chose was Aham Prema. It is a short, simple, and powerful Sanskrit mantra that translates as "I am Divine Love."

As I imagined each thoracic disc rising gently on the inhalations, I imagined the Sanskrit word Aham.

With each exhalation, as the disc moved back toward the soft mattress, I imagined the word Prema.

Gently, slowly--visualizing each disc nestled between the vertebrae, the chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. The spine responding to this gentle, effortless flow, and the mantra steadily leading, guiding, and unifying the practice.

This subtle Feldenkrais lesson became more than an embodied somatic practice. The mantra transformed it into a powerful meditation connecting breath, body, heart, and mind.

As Joe led his listeners through each pair of vertebrae--and each disc in the middle back spine--a journey was unfolding for me:

I imagined the disc nestled between T-1 and T-2

On the deep inhalation: Aham

and with it...deep gratitude.

On the slow, steady exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-2 and T-3

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...profound understanding.

On the slow, gentle exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-3 and T-4

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...selflessness.

On the relaxed, easy exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-4 and T-5

On the next, deep inhalation: Aham

and with it...transcendence.

On the slow exhalation, Prema

I imagined the disc between T-5 and T-6

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...meaningful service.

On the steady exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-6 and T-7

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...safe refuge.

On the next, deep exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-7 and T-8

On the steady inhalation: Aham

and with it...connection.

On the release of the exhalation: Prema

I imagined the disc between T-8 and T-9

On the next inhalation: Aham

and with it...a vast, infinite expanse.

On the exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-9 and T-10

On the inhalation: Aham

and with it...deep healing.

On the exhalation: Prema

I visualized the disc between T-10 and T-11

On the next, slow inhalation: Aham

and with it...forgiveness.

On the next, deep exhalation: Prema

Finally, I imagined the disc between T-11 and T-12

On this next inhalation: Aham

and with it...compassion.

On this next, slow exhalation: Prema

One of the benefits of having a regular mantra practice is the ability to incorporate the practice into daily tasks and parallel interests. I've found that mantra practice makes everything better. It improves focus, enhances the state of being present, and makes tasks and activities more meaningful and interesting.

This lesson and mantra practice was a wonderful way to start my day.

 For those of you who may be interested in exploring this Feldenkrais lesson with Joe Webster, click HERE for the YouTube recording of the lesson.

For those of you who prefer to chant mantra with a beautiful mala--or if you would like to share a mala with a friend or loved one, please visit the Middle Moon Malas online shop HERE.

Tying Loose Ends While the World Is on Hold December 21, 2020 15:32

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

This past Tuesday, I had a COVID-19 test because of an indirect exposure to the virus. My husband had a colleague who tested positive after exhibiting symptoms, so we both booked appointments at a local Immediate Care center.

Two days later, my husband was able to view his results online. Fortunately, his results were negative. However, when I tried to access my results, it said my birthdate information was inaccurate.

So, I called the Immediate Care center and waited...and waited...and waited...I was #12 in the queue, and after listening to the same ten bars of plinky, tinny, and very annoying hold music for well over an hour, an LPN finally answered my call.

She was able to access my results quickly, and she also fixed the error on my records. Fortunately, I was also negative for COVID, and after a very tense hour of waiting, was quite relieved.

The universe had t been testing my patience big time on this day, and, I'm not going to lie, I was struggling to keep it together. I'm glad I did. It was well-worth the wait--but it certainly was not easy.

This year (2020) has not been easy, either, for many of us around the world. Some have lost their businesses, their jobs, their homes, their health, and even their loved ones to this pandemic.

This Winter Solstice is an especially important one. There is hope on the horizon--vaccines are now available to combat this virus, a New Year, (and a new administration) are quickly approaching. Even planets are aligning, literally, in the sky at this time.

The Great Conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn will be the closest since 1623, and the closest to be observed since 1226! This celestial phenomenon, occurring on the Winter Solstice, and welcoming the return to light, feels like a hopeful blessing after an extremely difficult and challenging year.

Earlier this week, I posted a short video on the Middle Moon Malas Facebook page about the significance of tassels in a mala design.

The sutra, or cord, that runs through all 108 beads, that creates the knots between each bead, and that eventually connects to the guru bead at the base of the design, is the line that holds everything together. The sutra represents the Cosmic Creative Force that supports or sustains every being in the universe.

The tassel, then, is an extension of the sutra which binds the garland together. It represents our connection to the Divine, or Source, or to the earth, as well as to all other living beings. It is a reminder of our Oneness and Unity. We are all connected and interconnected to each other and to the universe.

This is why, to reinforce the importance of this connection, I make each tassel by hand, using the same cord as the sutra in each mala design. I also bind and wrap each tassel by hand using this same cord.

As a result, each part of the mala is intricately connected and unified.

I'm not a fan of attaching pre-fabricated, factory-manufactured tassels onto my designs. They may be beautiful, but they can't capture the essence of unity and connection that is so important in a mala.

It takes time, effort, dedication, and patience to make and then join the tassel to the garland. I don't mind (unlike being on hold for an hour on the phone). 

The process is satisfying and meaningful to me. It gives me a sense of purpose to create a design knowing that it may benefit someone's personal practice and make a positive difference in their life.

Creating malas is not a chore or an obligation for me; it's a joy to create these one-of-a-kind designs. It may not be easy, but it is certainly worth all of the time, effort, and patience required in the end.

May the skies where you are be clear on this Winter Solstice evening. May you be able to witness the bright light of the Great Conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter, and may 2021 bring you joy, health, success, peace, and much-needed relief from this extremely trying year.

By the way, the New Year is also the perfect time for renewing your personal practices with a new mala. Please consider visiting the current online collection here--or send me an email through the Contact Us page for custom design inquiries.

Be happy!

Be safe!

Be well!

Warmly,

Teresa

Scar Tissue, Loss, and Gratitude November 17, 2020 15:26

 To listen to this blog post, please click here.

Ever since I was a kid, I've had ear trouble.

Right ear trouble, mostly. From chronic ear infections, tubes in the ears, and, eventually, a skin graft to repair the gaping hole that would not heal, thanks to a bad bout with hay fever. Because of scar tissue, the repaired right eardrum did not move in the same way that the healthy left one did. Its stiffness and rigidity resulted in significant hearing loss in my right ear.

I adapted and managed. After all, I had my left ear to rely on...until recently.

Two weeks ago, I made spaghetti with a soy-based meat substitute. I did not purchase these "soy balls."  My husband Jim picked them up for me when he went to the grocery store. He was being kind and thoughtful--and even though I knew I would have some kind of reaction (my body does not respond well to processed soy products), I didn't want to waste them...and...I'm not gonna lie...I was hungry!

So, I had a plate of spaghetti with three small soy balls, and within fifteen minutes, I noticed a rushing, roaring, and ringing in my left ear.

I occasionally experience ringing in both ears, but it typically lasts a few seconds or minutes. This lasted for hours--and I noticed that I was sensitive to certain sounds. The television news commentators' voices sounded tinny and metallic. I brushed it off thinking it might be an issue with the station.

The next morning, the roaring and rushing sounds had subsided, but my left ear felt full. I wasn't in pain, but it felt like I had an ear infection. Jim picked up some Benadryl for me, which did help alleviate the pressure and helped the ear drain. 

I thought that was the end of it. Nope!

When my alarm rang on Monday morning, I could barely hear it. It was low and faint, and I honestly thought our clock had broken. It hadn't, and that's how I realized that I could not hear out of my left ear.

I was not in pain, I was not dizzy, but my ear felt full, numb, like it was made out of rubber or plastic. And the roaring and rushing sounds had returned full blast.

Later that morning, I scheduled a teledoc appointment with my primary care physician for Wednesday afternoon.

I also left a message with my ENT. By this time, I figured it was more serious than a spaghetti dinner. Surely, the soy was not the culprit or cause of this, right?

While I waited, I did a little research. This can be a dangerous thing for me to do (Googling medical symptoms), but I'm glad I did in this case.

I found an article from a reputable source (The Cleveland Clinic) that had a single line that literally made me stand up and take action: "Sudden hearing loss is considered a medical emergency."

I spent Election Night at the ER. The lobby was eerily quiet. Seats were occupied with waiting patients. A corner television aired a Friends rerun, but the volume was too low for me to hear.

Everyone who interacted with me that evening was extremely helpful, efficient, and demonstrated genuine concern. I left the hospital with a prescription for a steroid and the faint hope that my hearing would be restored.

My ENT's office called the next day, and we scheduled an appointment for a hearing test for Thursday.

In the meantime, my world shrunk to the size of a crappy soy ball.

My communication with my students was limited to emails. I couldn't watch the news or listen to music. I couldn't hear Feldenkrais lessons on my tablet.

The house was oddly quiet--and leaving the house was disorienting for me. I was afraid of not being able to hear emergency sirens while driving.

I did stop by Fresh Thyme for a few things. I couldn't hear the background music playing in the store, only the roaring in my ear and the loud humming of the freezer and refrigerator units.

I spent a lot of time reading and found great comfort in my meditation practice.

I was facing uncertainty, and the stark reality that I could not hear in a hearing world.

The hearing test on Thursday did not go well. My hearing in my left ear was far worse than in my right, and my ENT was concerned about the numbness I was experiencing in my left ear. He gave me an additional prescription for the same steroid to extend the duration. He also suggested scheduling an MRI to rule out a tumor, and asked me to return in two weeks for a follow-up test.

No explanations were offered--no diagnosis--just more uncertainty, more wait-and-see. And, uh...TUMOR?

In the meantime, I continued to practice. It was the only thing that kept me moored in the present moment. I even took a trip to Bloomington on Friday. The weather was gorgeous, and I hadn't been to the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center since late February because of the pandemic.

Walking the grounds was the medicine I needed. I had sent messages to a couple of my dharma friends letting them know what was happening. I appreciated the support of their prayers and the opportunity to slow way down, enjoy the beautiful surroundings, and appreciate what I had rather than worrying about what I didn't have.

I walked around the Kalachakra Stupa and prayer wheels. I stood under long rows of colorful prayer flags and gazed at the clear blue sky. I wandered around the Lotus Pond dotted with autumn leaves.

Geshe Kunga was setting up for a puja the next day in the temple. He invited me in--I lit a row of candles on the altar. He gave me a tangerine and a bottle of orange juice and let me sit quietly in the temple to meditate for a while.

Later, I chatted with my friend Staci in the Gift Shop. It was good to be in this beautiful place with warm, kind-hearted people.

After a few days, I noticed that the steroids did help. The constant roaring and rushing subsided, and slowly, but surely, my hearing in my left ear started to improve.

I wasn't sleeping well (one of the many side effects of the medication), but my hearing was returning, so I wasn't complaining at all! I'd rather lose a little sleep than my hearing.

Late night Feldenkrais lessons and early morning meditation sessions were calming and self-regulating practices as well.

I see a holistic chiropractor every few weeks as part of my self care routine. I'm so glad I happened to have an appointment with her on Friday afternoon (two weeks after the initial symptoms).

Dr. Amanda was the only practitioner who acknowledged that the soy could very well have been the catalyst for all of this. It may not have caused the hearing loss, but it may have triggered the inflammation that led to it.

She focused on adjusting my cervical spine, and gave me a couple of supplements to foster drainage and boost the immune system as I was tapering off of the steroids.

That was my big worry with all of this--what if the hearing deteriorates after I stop taking the meds? How badly will they suppress my immune system? COVID numbers are off the charts right now and currently spiking in our local area.

At any rate, it felt good to be validated,  "heard," and acknowledged. I left this appointment feeling hopeful. Dr. Amanda did not mention anything about possible tumors, the possibility of cochlear implants, or brain surgery, which was also a relief! 

I also left feeling extremely grateful. Over the last two weeks, as my hearing steadily improved, I relished everyday, ordinary sounds that I typically take for granted.

The sound of Zora purring

Maya softly snoring on my lap

The sound of the furnace kicking on through the vents

A  ringing telephone

Birdsong

Crickets

Rustling leaves

The steady hum of a neighbor's lawn mower

The crackling sound of burning leaves

And yes, even the sound of the alarm clock 

My world was slowly beginning to expand beyond the size of a toxic soy ball, and I was ecstatic about that! I will also never, ever, ever consume processed soy again! And I have asked Jim to never purchase it again :). 

I am grateful to be recovering.

I am grateful that I can hear!

I am grateful to have kind, supportive friends.

I am grateful to have a practice that I can rely on and take comfort in during challenging times.

I am grateful for multiple modalities and approaches in health care, and I am grateful that I had access to much-needed health care--I needed a hearing test...steroids...a spinal adjustment...and natural supplements for healing.

It is November....and I am grateful!

Thank you for reading or listening today. While you're here, please visit middlemoonmalas.com to view the current online collection of one-of-a-kind malas.

Oops! Mistakes as Opportunities for Practice October 20, 2020 15:45

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, click HERE.

I've been working on a mala design for a friend who will be opening a new studio in January. It is a Tiger Eye mala with alternating 8 and 6mm beads.

When I finished stringing the 108th bead and brought the two ends together to attach the guru, I noticed that something was off...WAY off. The beads weren't lining up correctly, and with different bead sizes, this is particularly critical.

I tried tugging the mala on one side to even out the difference, but no luck. When I counted the beads again, I realized my mistake. I had miscalculated the midpoint of the design, so the balance of the entire design was off kilter. If I had attached the guru and tassel, the beads wouldn't have lined up properly, and the whole design would have been a little wonky. Five hours of steady work and time wasted....or, maybe not.

I resigned myself to starting over with this mala. As I was snipping each knot between every bead this morning, I realized that mistakes offer valuable insights, blessings, and opportunities.

*Opportunity to Revise:

To revise means "to see again." When I taught creative writing at a local high school years ago, I encouraged my students to revise their poems and stories. The first draft is rarely the best draft--it is merely a starting point--a beginning to something even better.

This is true for other endeavors, too, even designing malas.

I have a work tray that I use to layout potential designs, but this tray isn't foolproof. Errors can still occur--as they did with this Tiger Eye mala. However, it also gave me an opportunity to reconsider the original arrangement of the beads, and the possibility to substitute a few different beads to add more visual interest to the design.

This mistake actually gave me the opportunity to improve this mala for my friend, to make it even better than the initial design.

*Opportunity to Practice:

It's not unusual for me to practice mantra recitations while I'm stringing a mala, especially when I know in advance who it will belong to.

Often, when I'm working on a custom mala design, I will recite a mantra while I'm working and offer the merits of the practice to the recipient of the mala.

Restringing this design will give me even more time to devote to my own practice, and it will allow me to dedicate even more benefits to my friend and to the success of her new business. 

By reframing this mistake, it allows me to see it as a blessing rather than an inconvenience or burden. It also gives me something to look forward to, and it adds purpose to the work and time required to complete this design.

*Opportunity to Generate Kindness

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to making mistakes. I can be extremely self-critical and unnecessarily harsh with myself.

I can be kind, forgiving, and compassionate with others when they make mistakes, but quite brutal with myself, even with minor errors.

My inner critic can be quick to lash out over the smallest mistakes: misspelling a word in a Facebook post or comment, forgetting something (phone, wallet, etc) when I leave the house, screwing up a dinner recipe, or remembering something ridiculously minor or stupid that I said or did many years ago.

Practicing self-kindness is just as important as practicing kindness toward others. Making mistakes give me an opportunity to demonstrate LESS judgment and criticism and MORE tenderness, gentleness, and compassion toward myself. 

I've carved out some time later this afternoon to work on this new-and-improved mala for my friend. I'm looking forward to the opportunity to revise and improve, to dedicate time and effort to the future success of her biz, and to direct much-needed kindness, patience, and compassion toward myself as I restring her mala.

Thanks for reading or listening! If you haven't checked out the MMM online collection in a while, click here. Several new designs have been added recently. Do something nice for yourself or a loved one, and support a small Hoosier business, too.   

(Here is the revised mala design. I wound up changing the sutra and tassel color--from navy blue to honey flax)

Unlikely Offerings September 15, 2020 15:52

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, click HERE.

It's early morning. I light a stick of incense, grab a Granny Smith apple from the bowl by the fridge and a scoop of birdseed from the bag near the front door. I pick up Maya with my free hand (which is a challenge because she's jumping up and down in excitement) and slip into a pair of sandals.

With both hands full, I carefully open the storm door with my left elbow and walk toward the small garden in the front yard.

The tip of the incense stick is glowing bright red in the early morning light, and white smoke that smells of juniper wafts around us.

I am thinking about my friend's dog who recently passed away. I am also thinking of another friend's son-in-law and a former colleague's brother--both of whom have died within the last few days.

I carefully place the incense stick in a small metal bowl at the base of a tree stump and sprinkle the cup of birdseed into the open palms of a concrete Buddha statue.

Maya and I walk down the driveway looking for a few acorns that have fallen from a nearby white oak, and I also pluck a few black-eyed Susans that are blooming near a mulberry bush. 

I place them on the tree stump near the Buddha statue, along with the green apple.

We do this twice a day, this simple ritual of offering. It's dedicated to all sentient beings: insects, animals, loved ones, strangers, celebrities who have passed away in the last 49 days (in Buddhism, the intermediate state, or bardo, can last up to seven times seven, or 49, days).  We make these offerings so that these beings may navigate their way safely through the bardo in the hopes that they find happiness in their next life--so that they may be of benefit to others in their next incarnation.

I offer a brief prayer to the outdoor altar, and then Maya and I make our way back to the house.

This is an example of a traditional offering: flowers, fruit, incense. However, offerings don't have to be traditional to be meaningful or valid.

Offerings can be very simple, subtle, and sometimes...unlikely.

Anything given with an open heart and from a spirit of kindness and generosity could be considered an offering. Here are just a few practical examples:

* Sharing home-grown veggies from your garden with friends or neighbors.

* Helping someone who's having technology issues or a friend who needs help with a home-improvement project.

* Letting someone enter the flow of traffic, especially when traffic is heavy.

*Offering kind words of encouragement.

* Acknowledging and thanking a cashier or clerk by name at a grocery store, bank, or gas station.

* Wearing a mask and honoring social distancing guidelines during a pandemic.

Offerings can also be a blend of the traditional and everyday common courtesy.

I often practice japa when I'm driving. I use a clicker counter or knitter to keep track of the recitations (and it's safer than using a full mala for me). Often, when I'm reciting, I offer the benefits (or merits) of the recitations to the drivers, passengers, and pedestrians around me: 

* May they arrive safely to their destinations 

* May they be happy

* May they be well 

Even during a more formal sitting practice or during a sadhana, it's not unusual for miscellaneous memories or sudden flashes of people I haven't seen or thought about in years to pop into my head. Instead of viewing this as an annoying distraction to resist or push away, or interpreting this as evidence of being an undisciplined meditator, I briefly acknowledge them and wish them well:

*I see you

*I love you

*I remember you

*I forgive you

*I honor you

Usually, when I take the time to witness and appreciate these "surprise visitors," they dissipate fairly quickly, and it opens up even more space for my practice. In fact, I see acknowledging and honoring these memories and flashes as an important part of my practice.  

So, what are the benefits of making daily offerings, whether they are tangible objects, courteous acts or gestures, or meditative thoughts?

* They encourage generosity and selflessness 

One of the quickest ways to bust out of an "I,I,I...me,me,me" mindset is by considering or giving to others instead of thinking about yourself.

 * They foster connections and interconnection with others

Offering words, thoughts, or things with a kind-hearted spirit helps dissolve feelings of separation or disconnection toward others.

* They inspire a sense of purpose and meaning

On an individual level, offerings can add a little structure and motivation to a practice. When the intention is right, and when the desire for recognition is absent, it feels really good to do charitable things or offer kind words of support to others.

Offerings can strengthen and bolster compassion for self, for others, and for the planet. 

By the way, supporting a small business is another wonderful way to make a meaningful offering. Feel free to visit the Middle Moon Malas online shop (here) to purchase a one-of-a-kind mala for yourself or a loved one. These beautiful designs are intended to enhance your own practice, and they make wonderful gifts....or...offerings.

A Beautiful Tangle: Sitting with Confusion August 5, 2020 15:18

If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

We are living in a time when we have have many opportunities to explore our relationship with confusion. We're navigating the uncertainties of our own daily lives in the middle of a global pandemic. Some of us are working from home, some are seeking new employment, some are struggling to keep food on the table or to pay bills, and we're all trying to stay safe and healthy during this challenging time.

We're also dealing with the upheaval of social protests and finally facing the consequences of systemic racism in order to move toward necessary and meaningful change.

We're gearing up for a pivotal election in November. It's certainly been a long 3 ½ years, and unfortunately, our struggles are far from over.

 Confusion gives us the space to explore, to experiment with different solutions, to ask questions, and to research. Sitting with confusion is not always easy or comfortable, but it is imperative to novel discovery and learning.

Over the past several months, I have immersed myself in studying the Tibetan language. Progress is painstakingly slow, but learning new things is great for the brain. It broadens viewpoints and perspectives; it fosters creativity and curiosity; and it has given me many opportunities to practice with confusion.

* The Importance of Feeling Stupid

Early on in my studies, I was working with two Tibetan tutors online, additional materials from the Tibetan Language Institute based in Montana, The Manual of Standard Tibetan, and a variety of YouTube videos. Inevitably, I found conflicting information, especially regarding pronunciation (there are 220 Tibetan dialects). In the beginning, having too many sources was overwhelming for me, and it just made me feel incredibly stupid and inept. Navigating contradictory information created massive confusion and self-doubt. However, I found that by sticking with my tutors until I mastered the alphabet and basic sentence structure helped me negotiate the rough waters of hopeless confusion.

Curiosity is a motivator, and it is often driven by productive confusion. This curiosity led me to ask questions, to take my time practicing and writing out each letter, to make flash cards of simple words, numbers, and phrases. It also helped me weave my way out of self-doubt and discouragement, to seek understanding while simultaneously moving beyond the realm of the familiar.

*Time

I found out the hard way that I need to study in small bursts of time rather than in lengthy marathon sessions.

A few weeks ago, one of my sessions with a tutor went way over time (over 2 hours), and by the end of the session, I was discouraged, frustrated, angry, and more confused at the end than I was at the start.

Hour-long sessions are ideal for me. I can deal with 90 minute sessions, too, but anything beyond that is too much. Setting clear boundaries with my tutor regarding time limits proved to be very helpful.

Even when I study on my own, I find that daily sessions of 15-30 minutes is just right. Finding that tipping point where productive confusion slips into hopeless confusion was useful for me. It helped me to stay focused and engaged, and it helped to avoid sabotaging my own practice.

*The Importance of Rest

Taking breaks and resting between sessions is also crucial to learning anything new and managing the discomfort of confusion.

I already understood this from a somatic perspective. In Feldenkrais lessons, we move slowly and repeat movements with thoughtful, mindful attention. Between movements, or before layering movements with variations on a theme, we rest.

The rests function as points of integration. These necessary pauses allow the nervous system to process information.

It's the same with learning a language, or anything new, really. I found that if I spent a few minutes reviewing words on flash cards, then took a break to read, go for a walk, wash dishes, or nap--when I returned to review the same set of cards, my accuracy, speed, and retention were much improved.

*Letting Go of Expectation

The most important aspect of managing confusion while learning is to let go of expectations and judgments. This is also much easier said than done :). 

Putting too much pressure on myself when I'm learning something new only invites the inner critic to tear my enthusiasm and self-esteem to shreds. Sessions that don't have an agenda or specific expectation (I'm going to memorize all the vegetables in Tibetan in 15 minutes) allow me to enjoy the exploration and discovery process. These sessions are more playful and relaxed compared to pressure-cooker sessions where I'm striving, pushing, or rushing myself. There is more ease in the effort, and the cognitive connections are stronger and more relevant.

In addition to learning something new, I'm also reinforcing the importance of being patient and compassionate with myself. And, in turn, this carries over to being more patient and compassionate with others, as well. 

* What the Heck Does This Have to Do with Meditation and Japa Practice?

Well, pretty much everything! When we come to the cushion to sit or practice japa, we learn something new about ourselves or how to relate to others in the world.

The same tips above apply to maintaining a healthy meditation practice. Confusion surfaces regularly during sessions--maybe not in the same way as they do in learning a new language. Confusion appears in finding difficulty settling in to practice. Distractions arise--both internal and external (discursive thoughts, memories, random song lyrics or commercial jingles, a ringing phone, the sound of a television in another room, your partner or spouse talking to you while you're trying to practice: "It smells like you're burning underwear").

So, things will come up during meditation. Don't let that discourage you. Instead, find time every day to practice, even if it's ten minutes.

Every meditation session will be different, so don't micromanage or squelch your practice with a specific expectation or agenda. Instead, have the courage to explore whatever arises at that time, and in that moment.

Take breaks between sessions if you meditate more than once a day. Ideally, I like to practice three times a day. I have a short sadhana session in the morning, a japa practice in the afternoon, and then a longer sadhana session in the evening.

Remember that productive confusion is a necessary part of the learning process. It stimulates curiosity, it encourages inquiry, and it opens new doorways to awareness and understanding.

 Be curious, be open, and give yourself permission to sit with confusion in your practice. Invite it to tea without an ulterior motive. Follow its loops, twists, arcs, and jagged edges to see where it might lead you.

Happy practicing and learning, everyone!

By the way, I've added several new mala designs to the MMM website recently, so if you haven't visited in a while, I invite you to view the online collection at middlemoonmalas.com.

Controlled Burn: Sitting with Fear July 3, 2020 21:11

 If you prefer to listen to this blog post, please click here.

It's early July, and I'm sitting in a lawn chair babysitting an active fire in our side yard. My fear of fire is strong, so I hate it when Jim burns shit in our yard. It ratchets up my anxiety levels, and today, the pile of wood was very high. We cleared out and cut several dead ash trees and rotted wooden beams that framed our turnaround, so the heap was a formidable one.

The good news is, it's not a windy day. The flames were quite intimidating at first, but they died down quite a bit and fairly quickly. The logs are turning ashy white on the outside and glowing bright orange at the center.

I have to admit, I feel a bit like the burning logs right now. Everything seems to be fairly calm and under control, but beneath the surface, anger, sadness, frustration, and uncertainty are blazing.

Typically, on the Summer Solstice, I am a vendor at an event in downtown Indianapolis, Monumental Yoga. This year, however, because of COVID-19, the physical event was cancelled, and, understandably so. I typically sell quite a few malas at this event, and even though I've had the opportunity to participate in a few virtual events as a vendor this season, the results have been disappointing. I didn't sell a single mala in the month of June, which is very unusual. The good news is, I've had time to catch up on my inventory, and I currently have a full collection in the online shop. However, I'm anxious for these beautiful malas to find new homes.

I've also been dealing with waves of sadness throughout this past month as well. My friend Michelle died on June 16. She'd been battling terminal cancer for the past three years. A few months ago, she was doing quite well, and I was really hopeful that she might have more time. She was a kind, generous spirit, and I will miss her dearly.

The first of July was the tenth anniversary of my friend Larry's death. Larry was an amazing art teacher at the high school where I used to teach English. His partner had shared an online interview that Larry gave with a former art student just a week before he died.  It was wonderful to hear his voice again, but it was also agonizingly sad. Larry was an excellent educator, and he encouraged his students not only to create meaningful art, but to maintain a sense of curiosity and wonder with the world. Listening to this interview ten years after his death was inspiring, but also bittersweet. 

I'm still struggling through weekly Tibetan language lessons. Currently, I'm taking two classes a week on Zoom with two different tutors. I have moments of clarity and understanding, but many more moments of feeling totally lost and frustrated.

Our class on Saturday went over by 45 minutes. I had literally been tethered to my computer for over two hours, and another student asked a question that required a lengthy, complicated answer--and it was material that was totally new to me. At that time, I was too tired to process any more information (Zoom fatigue is no joke, people!).

I tried to remain patient, polite, and engaged, but I'm sure my frustration showed through in my body language and audible sighing.

The Tibetan language is very subtle, and correct pronunciation is extremely important. Unfortunately, I have significant hearing loss in one ear, and after two hours of intently listening, I'd reached my limit. I want to understand; I want to get it right, but it was not happening at that moment. 

As an educator, I understand that confusion is an important aspect of the learning process. Sometimes you have to stir things up in order to see the truth and then make sense of it. It's one thing to understand this on a conceptual level; it's quite another to experience it and process it with dignity and grace in real time, especially when you're tired and cranky.

I've had enough of Zoom, really. Don't get me wrong; I'm extremely grateful to have the option to connect with others virtually online. It has been a crucial link in many ways; however, it's also a poor substitute for face-to-face communication with people, and I really miss that right now.

So, this is where the anger shows up for me. Honestly, I feel a little like Samuel L. Jackson in the last 20 minutes of Snakes on a Plane. (If you're not familiar with this film...or THE quintessential line in this film, click here). 

I have had ENOUGH of COVID-19!

I have had ENOUGH of Donald Trump!

I have had ENOUGH of police brutality!

I have had ENOUGH of systemic racism and racial inequality!

I have had ENOUGH of ridiculous conspiracy theories and manipulative propaganda on social media!

I have had ENOUGH of crybabies complaining about having to wear masks in public!

I have had ENOUGH of people suffering and dying needlessly from this terrifying new virus!

Before I can be grateful and understand the blessings of big things, I have to acknowledge and sit with their shadow sides first.  I can't attach, contract, grab, cling, or wallow in them.

First and foremost, I have to sit with these strong feelings...let them burn brightly, then smolder, stirring the ashes until they cool. This process enables me to allow whatever it is to be, to open and expand in order to see the benefit...and take necessary actions to realize it.

So, I sit with these feelings, letting them burn...and then smolder.

I stir their ashes until they cool. 

I witness them, with gentle attention, and without judgment. 

I see you, Anger.

I see you, Inadequacy.

I see you, Anxiety.

I see you, Grief.

I see you, Frustration.

Right now, blue smoke is rising from the much smaller burn pile. The popping and cracking of blazing wood has subsided. The warm ash flakes are drifting and falling less frequently.

It is in this moment that I notice birdsong. I hear children laughing in a neighbor's yard. I take comfort in knowing that a young fawn is curled up in the brush near our home. Even though I can't see her spotted coat, I know she's there, and that mama doe is somewhere nearby.

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, and I have reason to celebrate. I will be celebrating my temporary freedom from fear, hopelessness, anger, grief, and frustration. 

These feelings will no doubt return, but for now, they have settled, eased, burned to the ground along with this giant pile of ash.

If you haven't had a chance to visit the updated Middle Moon Malas collection in a while, please click here. Perhaps one of these beautiful designs will find a new home with you. 

Planting Seeds of Change: Pandemic Haiku Part Two June 9, 2020 11:47

(If you prefer to listen to this blog post, click here)

I wasn't sure if I wanted to include additional poems in this month's blog post or not, but when I read through the haiku from this past month, I observed some significant shifts and patterns that were quite different from the previous poems.

 Needless to say, this month has been challenging for many reasons. COVID-19 has not yet released its grip around the world, and, on top of that, here in the U.S., we are grappling with the collective grief, rage, and pain of racism, police brutality, and economic hardship.

It's been a difficult month for many, and while I have been staying put at home, for the most part, I have also been deeply aware and connected to the concerns of others. These concerns have drifted to the surface of awareness through this daily haiku practice.

* Connection with Nature 

For centuries, haiku have connected to and referenced the natural world. While I wrote a few poems in the previous month that alluded to nature, wildlife, and the environment, the haiku this month seemed to slip deeper. They moved beyond mere observation to create a more direct, organic connection to the natural world.

Coyote (5.9.2020)

Our eyes met briefly

as you trotted through the yard.

Wild. Searing. Amber.         

                      Komorebi * (5.11.2020)

                      Shadows of oak leaves

                      dance on white walls. Light and dark

                      play until dinner.

(* Japanese term: play of sunlight through leaves)

Dwarf Rhododendrons (5.19.2020)

Tender white petals

expand, hold time and stillness

close in drops of rain.

               Sunday Afternoon (5.24.2020)

               Even in full sun,

              this room is cloaked in green leaves.

              Oak, Ash, Hickory.

*Uprising of Grief

In the weeks leading up to Memorial Day, I noticed a palpable tension that gradually intensified. It was a subtle shift, slowly rising to the surface. I went through periods of grief--intense sadness for no obvious reason. Then, reasons began to emerge--a former student of mine was murdered; then, George Floyd was murdered, and racism, injustice, corruption, and brutality were justifiably called out into the open. The daily protests continue even now; voices rise up, screaming for change. An ancient wound has been acknowledged at last, and accountability has been demanded.

Space between Stimulus and Response (5.3.2020)

Action, reaction.

Fine line between left and right.

Not this…Not that…Here.

                  As If the Virus Wasn’t Enough (5.5.2020)

                  Toxic stings, hot nails

                  in flesh. Murder hornets rip

                  honeybees to shreds.

Remembering Tori (5.13.2020)

Red hair and freckles,

giggling with best friend in hall.

Restless. Kind. Spunky.

                    Seize (5.20.2020)

                     Her body shakes; claws

                     dig into chair cushion. Raw

                     struggle for control.

Floyd (5.28.2020)

A knee to the neck

for nine minutes. Cries for help

ignored. “I can’t breathe.”

*Call to Practice

The third pattern that has emerged is a distinct call to practice. I've stayed up late several times this month to watch H.H. Dalai Lama give live stream teachings and transmissions from India. A friend and Dharma teacher is currently living in Israel right now. She's been hosting weekly meditations and talks on Zoom. I've awakened at 4:00 a.m. on several occasions to join them. Saga Dawa, one of the most significant Buddhist holidays, is currently happening this month. It celebrates the birth, death, and parinirvana of Shakyamuni Buddha. 

I've spent more time on my cushion in quiet contemplation, or in meditative movement practice as a way of processing this undeniable collective grief and anger.  I came across a Thich Nhat Hanh quotation recently that resonated: "Meditation is not evasion. It is a serene encounter with reality." 

These poems have been attempts to acknowledge and come to terms with this difficult reality as well.

Metta (5.7.2020)

Golden light spirals

from the center of the spine.

May you be happy.

                Shamatha (5.12.2020)

                Paint each vertebra

                with an exhale. Spinal curves

                and breath undulate.

Precious Garland: Day One (5.15.2020)

Gold robes, orchids, silk.

He speaks of love, compassion

between sips of tea.

                Tonglen (5.21.2020)

                Inhale: Pain. Exhale:

                Joy. Inhale: Black Smoke. Exhale:

                Gold Light. Receive…Give…

May all of you reading or listening to these words be happy and well. May you be free of suffering, and may you find joy.

I have added several new designs to the Middle Moon Malas online shop, so if you haven't visited in a while, feel free to browse the collection at middlemoonmalas.com.

Take care, everyone!

Teresa