April Love | Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray)

April Love prompt: “something beginning with a”: apples and an avocado

I was reminded of this poem yesterday, and as I read it again I thought it was the perfect thing to share on this day of rest, when I won’t really be resting because I’ll be at a yoga teacher training all day.

Autobiography In Five Chapters
By Portia Nelson
From: Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

1) I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.

2) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

3) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in… it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

4) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

5) I walk down another street.

Today’s April Love prompt today is “simple pleasures.” My life is made up mostly of such things. Just one example is long walks with my dogs. Long walks with my dogs and Eric, talking about everything and nothing or staying completely quiet, both together and alone. A camera that fits in my pocket so I can easily take a picture of how green everything is, how the leaves are starting to open on the Narrow Leaf Cottonwoods. Being able to walk out my front door and if I go left, I’m at Lee Martinez Park in 20 minutes, and if I go right, I’m at City Park in 20 minutes. Getting to walk along the Poudre River any time I want for hours and hours on a route ranging from social dirt paths to carefully crafted paved trails. The wildlife we bump up against in the early mornings, like the heron this morning being chased by the geese that flew only a few feet directly over my head and whose wings were so loud they sounded like giant bumblebees. The memories of other walks with other dogs. So simple, and yet it’s everything.