February | 2016 | Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray)

1. Sweet things. Chocolate, kitchen counter love notes, early morning yoga, the reminder that I matter, the nice things people say to me, the way Ringo settled down and went to sleep next to me during my Wild Writing class this morning.

2. Clean water. I’m always so grateful for this, but with what’s going on in Flint, I’m even more so this week.

3. Sweet Sam. Ringo took off after a cat this weekend while Eric was trying to get them back in the house after coming home from a long hike. He ran after Ringo, and Sam just waiting on the front porch. Such a good dog.

4. Ringo Blue. How even though he was “bad” and took off after a cat, being free to chase after it was probably the best three minutes of his entire life, made him so happy. I love that about him.

5. Eric. How he ran after Ringo and brought him safely back, and didn’t kill him for it even thought he kind of wanted to. How happy he was to get our Highlander back from the shop. How cute it was that he has such an emotional attachment to it. The pizza he made last night. The love notes he leaves for me on the kitchen counter.

Bonus joy: The two people who went out of their way to tell me what it meant to them to have me around, ham and cheese bagels at Cafe Ardour, running into a friend and having her immediately hug me she was so happy to see me, the sweet kitty whose cancer might not be as bad as it could have been, those tiny donuts that are all gone now, a warm shower, clean sheets, our new bathroom (yes, still), my new car, teaching yoga, lunch with friends, getting permission even though I don’t need it, the chance to start over and begin again.

1. Truth: No matter what, there’s always this. That’s what I thought when I saw the love note Eric had left me on the kitchen counter this morning. I don’t remember exactly why or when he started to leave them, just that it was somehow related to a really hard time I was having. It’s telling that I can’t remember which particular hard time that was, because there have been many in recent years. Once he found out I was saving the notes, he started leaving them all the time. It’s probably not entirely clear from the above picture, but this one is actually pretty elaborate — the paper was originally white and he colored in the background with a yellow highlighter.

2. Truth: You can’t breathe in the future or the past. This is an instruction Susan Piver sometimes gives as she’s leading the Open Heart Project in meditation. It reinforces the purpose of placing our attention on our breath, bringing us into the present moment because that is where our breath is happening. If you notice you are breathing, it is the present moment and you are present with it. It’s very practical, but I also love it as a metaphor. If you are caught up in some version of a future that may never actually happen or stuck in a past that is already dead, you can’t breathe. You are suffocating yourself by not being present for your experience as it is happening.

3. Truth: When I starve myself of what I need, I stay a hungry ghost. This is so true, so raw and tender, that I’m not even sure how to explain it to you, kind and gentle reader. I think right now I’m afraid to talk about it, to tell you the truth of it, to look it straight in the eye, or even to sit with it myself. I feel like if I name it, if I give it a form, the carefully constructed keeping it together will come apart at the seams. I’m caught up in old patterns of abandoning myself, denying myself, and in my suffering I seek out clarity and understanding, work to face my experience with compassion, and try not to give up. It’s all I can do.

One wish: We are all trying so hard. By the merit of our effort, may suffering be eased — in ourselves and in the world.