Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head

walking...

a walk...

...this is an audio representation of a walk around the block tonight - it's been edited a little...

Time within Time

What a blessing today's dependent co-arising was!  Another long, cold, tiresome, and rainy day, but these factors were the foundation for a time of great reflection/meditation/struggle/and insight.  

I stepped outside at 9:31 pm, took a deep breath, and begin walking as slowly (AWKWARDLY!) as possible.  At first I had to fight myself to take one mindful step at a time.  My whole physiological self was determined to fall lock-step into its habitual pace.  Into the rushed numbness/narcissism that is modern life.  But I wouldn't have it.  Not tonight.  I focused on my breath, allowed it to enter and exit, and lifted one foot after another, over and over again, with more intention than I've ever given the act of walking.  

It was cold and wet, but these facts never became nuisances.  At such a slow and mindful pace I was able to appreciate everything more fully.  The Dale Chihuly blown-glass quality of the leaves piled nonchalantly across the grass and sidewalk, a day's worth of water lending them a healthy sheen.  The pit-pat of raindrops falling miles and miles into bare branches where they waited, remained, and gathered mass until gravity pulled them downward, big collective drops bursting upon my shoulders.  

I felt myself falling into a natural rhythm, walking in and out of different dimensions of time.  There were, of course, the cars, carrying their passengers quickly across the city streets, trails of mist thrust up off the road from their spinning tires.  There were the pedestrians, walking to and fro, shoes scraping the pavement, high heels click-clacking, a polyrhythmic crescendo dopplering its way all around me.  The leaves, the bushes, the subtle star-like sparkle of streetlights reflected in the sidewalk.  Stillness in the margins, lurking in shadows, always ready to present itself, yet always passed by in haste.  Always traded for other destinations.  Always victim to our insufficient ability to be here, now, moment to moment, mindful of these different dimensions of time always already dependently co-arising around us.

My heart softened, and my walk began feeling like a vigil.  An attempt to spread, with each step, some measure of compassion or lovingkindness.  To send a prayer to each square inch of earth, cement, brick, and shingle.  To each inhabitant, each unknown neighbor, hoping their hearts might know peace and love.  That they might find a place of rest where breathing is good and sweet, where energy is restored.

This walking action/meditation was healthy for me.  It brought me face to face with myself.  With my insecurities, with familiar patterns I've failed to question.  Taking things so slowly shocked me, in a way, into a deeper awareness of my neighborhood and of myself.  I was able to look deeply at the healthy and unhealthy ways I relate to this place I call home.  And most importantly,  I was able to find a deep thankfulness and appreciation for all the loved ones in my life, for their unconditional positive regard toward me, for their joyful spirits, for their selfless hearts, and for their absolute infinite et cetera of good greatness!!!

An hour later, arriving in front of my apartment building, craning my head upwards toward the warm light leaking through our windowshades, I gave thanks.  Big thanks.  To God.  To family.  To friends.  To rain.  To trees.  To you.  And you.  And you as well.

What a blessing, friends.  

Goodnight.

We were a group of four decidedly walking instead of driving to dinner. We tried our best to walk slowly all huddled together inside our coats, dodging puddles and sharing stories from our day we took the alley instead of the sidewalk. I noticed how much good trash there is in Ukrainian Village, vintage couch cushions soaked to the core and an old rolling chair. Gradually we picked up speed, with the restaurant in sight we ran across traffic only to find it closed for a private party... oh well, driving to Chinatown doesn't sound that bad after all, so we drove slowly.

Drip Drip Drip

I was exposed. Rain was opening me up. I could of cried. My camera was exposed. My legs turned into Emo Phillip's Speech. I craned. I poked. There were stares, but I shushed them with wavy arms, and sex eyes. "SLOW DOWN EVERYBODY! I DID!" I explained. "I JUST WENT AHEAD AND SLOWED DOWN AND I FEEL LIKE MAGIC. HECK, I FEEL LIKE MAGIC WEARING SUNGLASSES."

Walk Around the Block and a Detour

My friend Crys arrived via bus at point A of my block. We then walked 3/4ths of the way around the block, to point B, C, and D. From there, however, we detoured to the left and went up the street to the coffee shop. I was diligently working on my neighborhood mapping project when my young friends joined us. The eight year old drew a better house than I. So we spent a few hours there, let the girls draw with my colored pencil, talked spanish to a spanish teacher, got a 'zine, drank jones sodas and ate cookies... After we left we completed the circuit back to point D and on to A. The most interesting thing we saw on the walk itself was an old gutted cash register outside a store in the garbage pile with fall leaves on and in it. If you count the detour as continuing the walk then it lasted very long and we had a great time with two fourth graders.

Drizzle Fest

Despite the cold day of working outside in the rain, and my internal battle against sweatpants and tea, I ventured out immediately after work.

1. Without being too hard on myself, I realized it was very difficult to walk slow in the cold and rain. Brrrr...!

2. Must relax shoulders and enjoy something about this.

3. Ahh, yes...I love the sound of the rain on top my pink umbrella.

4. I took enjoyment at peering in at the decorations of those trusting citizens willing to keep their shades up.

5. I noticed how a pile of dog poo was in the exact shape of a pyramid...nicely done! I may have missed that were I walking my normal pace.

inside-out

got to walk right after the rain, right before the sun started to set - that perfect setting where the clouds cover the sun just enough to make the air seem unusually dim yet clear.

makes the color of the leaves seem highlighted somehow - brilliant against the gray atmosphere, like the kind of hand of God directing my attention to where it should be: outside of me.

'i love my block' i thought, walking among leaves the size of my feet, looking at flowers standing tall and pretty on the brink of their winter demise, and cozy homes stacked side by side.

but turn the corner and the leaves dissipate, fade into blowing bits of garbage instead, cigarette butts, pavement eating up the yards of the buildings. i start to notice how cold it is, how i should be walking quicker than i am.

its like i walked from the inside of the block out - from the personal interior of homes and families to the cold exterior of businesses and car-filled streets. from the quiet inside to the incessant movement of the outside.

'i love my block', i thought.

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There was so much traveling today.  I was in a group for all of it and taking slow steps really wasn't an option.  I got frustrated by that, but then tried to take swift-conscious steps instead.  It dawned on me that completing every task with a set idea of what I'm going to do each day really isn't possible, and I'm glad/pissed off about that at the same time.  Glad that I'm not living a life that I can entirely dictate.  Pissed off that I don't have control of everyone-thing-where.  It's a lot of work to be flexible.  A choice.  Sometimes its not fun, but its always possible (I think).

Bookended kneeling at the Metra

I take the 7:12 Metra to work every morning. The only good thing about this is that I get to watch the sun rise over the downtown skyline. Sitting on my knees and watching this happen made me feel more comfortable in the space - like I was in my own living room waiting for the train.
I also sat on my knees while waiting for my 5:43 train home (not pictured). There are two things about my home commute I would like to share: 1.) when the Northbound train comes in and stops, it illuminates a tiny patch of track and some wild grass and brush. It is very easy to squint your eyes and pretend that you are in some tiny nowhere town in the middle of Nebraska, for example. 2.) Evanston likes to think of itself as a cosmopolitan place, but it suffers from less light pollution than Chicago and at night you can see stars and the sky is almost inky black.
I sat on my knees a third time also, but that has been written about already.

TIME!

Time was freaking me out - and I was frustrated by the length of the line at the post office

I HAVE TO KNEEL!!!!  HURRY UP!!!! 

So I knelt, and scooted, and re-thought my frustration.  The need to kneel was too weighty, and so I scrapped my plans to kneel where I planned to, and knelt where I was.  It was nice to have plan, but to let it go when a perfect opportunity presented itself was freeing.  It made me very self-conscious.  I don't really think people were looking at me, but just the same.........  Also - I saw a little boy much better - I couldn't see the top of his head.  I started to try and decide what things he might think of as the focal points in the room and made a sculpture out of some things that I gathered (ljs). 

Also - I don't get how to post a picture here - can anyone help me figure it out?  

11/10/08

What a day fellow co-arisers!!!  I worked a good twelve hours today.  Tuckered me out a good deal.  Struggled with some bad attitudes.  But!!!  I had the hope of dependently co-arising with all of you!  That hope gave my heart and soul the spark it required to make the most of this glorious evening!

Jan and I ventured to Welles Park, breathing in the crisp, cool air, catching up with one another after long, tiresome days.  Jan had the inspired idea to kneel in the playground area of the park.  We made our way across the field, past the late-night man-dog frisbee team, into the darkened realm of cold slides and swings.  I'd have to say this activity was not immediately meditative or reflective for me.  It was, however, incredibly lighthearted and playful.  And I desperately needed some play this evening!

After our late-night recess in the park we made our way to the Bad Dog Tavern & Grill to share a sandwich over some sweet brews.  We ate and drank slowly, thankful for some time together, time to talk and laugh, time to be in one another's presence without distraction, time to unload some of the day's weight and breathe easier.  It was very good and altogether necessary!  We ended our date/co-arising by kneeling in the midst of the tavern's clientele, our waiter Chad kindly taking a photo of us and our full tummies.

It is a good thing, friends.  A good thing indeed.  To fill our days with positive intention!  With mindful purpose!  To bridge the artificial gap between one another and arrive in the lichtung, or clearing, where our true being can present itself, unencumbered, free to be with all others as one.  I'm thankful for this opportunity to nourish awareness with all of you!

Goodnight and happy dependent co-arising!

Place.

We sat on our knees on Humboldt Boulevard, near the Bloomingdale Line. We discussed how sitting on our knees really forces you to stop and consider. There was a stillness in the air. After that, we walked around for a little bit while our dinner cooked in the oven.

In the moving train.

In the train, in the train,

sat on my knees

difficult and painful.

i am unable to sit on my knees.

i am unable to sit on my knees.

Together under the bright bright moon thinking we saw a rabbit, watching our breath in the air, keeping warm and keeping company.

Under the Oak Tree

I went to Waters Community Garden tonight to my favorite spot. Under a big oak tree. I knelt down and felt a cushion of leaves about 6 inches deep. They crunched under my weight, and I remembered my old days of raking leaves all afternoon for the sole purpose of hurling myself into them. I breathed and smelled the brisk fall night. 

It was pretty quiet until I noticed the series of jets flying above me. I was directly beneath the flight path of a major airport. I thought about the people up in the airplanes and wondered where they were going. They were just on the ground minutes before and now they are cruising the lower atmosphere. Is Matt in one of those planes? I resolved yes! He must be in that one! I had just driven him and the members of Anathallo to the airport where they were headed to Europe. I gave him a big smile from under the oak tree. We are always connected.

I live behind a blanket door.

World As Teacher (Day 1 Post)

I had once sat cross-legged on the sidewalk of a benchless bus stop and had peanut butter cheese crackers thrown at me, so of all the possible tasks, this was one i looked the lease forward to. But I was determined to get this task completed, so just before 7 PM, I knelt in the seiza position I had used in karate classes. It was dark out, but I made sure I was far enough on the sidewalk and under the street light so I wouldn't scare the bejesus out of anyone who happened by. Of all of the people who biked or drove by, none noticed me. I think two walking people saw me, but they were on the other side of the street and didn't say anything. I thought I felt a gaze out of one of the apartment building windows across the street. But that was about it as far as human interaction. I sat there and kept thinking about the fact that I was in seiza position. It seemed only natural to mediate. In the opening of every karate class we had a ritual that went like this: Seiza (kneeling position), Mokuso (Meditate), Shomenei Rei (bow to floor and show respect to the ancestors, to all who have come before, to each other, by saying thank you (domo arigato gozaimasu), then sensei ne rei, (bow to the sensei/teacher and say thank you). I sat there and listened to all of the sounds. There is a church across the street and I heard the most wonderful voice of an older black man singing with all of his heart. I knew who it was because I once saw him come out of the church still singing in that magnificent tenor. The leaves rustled around me. I could hear the cars on the main road. I thought about the shootings that happened on Saturday here in my neighborhood. I thought about the changing of seasons. I bowed, putting my hands on the ground, fingers pointed towards each other, lowered my head thank you, rose up put my hands back in the same spot, lowered my head, thank you.