when in doubt, de-clutter

Recipe for weathering a cold: vitamin C, hot tea and "Something's Gotta Give" (Diane Keaton, Jack Nicholson). If symptoms persist, watch movie again.

Well, they're saying that snow's due again tonight and I say, Enough already! So as the snowflakes make ready to fly, I've been caught up in a flurry of my own. Today I started to feel a bit more like myself and was compelled to start clearing more of the paper clutter that perennially surrounds me. I broker ideas and information sticks to me like flypaper so I've never met an article or clipping that I didn't love -- and keep. Thank goodness, periodically I get into these clean 'em up, move 'em out modes.

I've been influenced enough by decorating/organizing shows that I cleared the surfaces of my work space, determined to sort and decide before anything re-entered. And it's clear to me that I don't yet have ways to keep what remains in some sort of suitable order. I'm not aiming for perfection, rather something that I can live and creatively work with, and that visually inspires me.

Meanwhile I've also realized that I'm ready to let go of more books. When I moved a couple of years ago, I divested myself of bags and bags of them. I couldn't believe what I had held onto or for how long so it was liberating to see them go. The process was a walk down memory lane and a chance to re-visit past lives, so to speak. Now two years on and with books still shelved two rows deep, it's time once again.

This time, though, it means going deeper and being even more honest about what truly reflects and supports who I am. I have some wonderful titles that have been obscured for years when I could have been inspired, informed and uplifted by them. What a waste...or maybe I just wasn't ready for them. I like that notion and that there could be hidden treasures waiting beneath the accumulation of years.

As I contemplate that, it's time for more tea.

impermanence

They have posted another warning about snow due here tomorrow. And amidst the flurry (no pun intended) of activity counting down to the first flake, a group of Buddhist nuns from Tibet is quietly creating a sand mandala at Wellesley College's Davis Museum.

They began last Thursday and when it's complete next week, their creation will be swept into a nearby lake. I read that the nuns had delayed their start by a day to one that was more spiritually auspicious. It made me smile: those women disrupting what was likely a carefully planned and coordinated schedule. That wasn't their intention -- nothing so self-centered; they were simply (or not so simply) attuned to other rhythms.

Some other things came to mind as well:
the quiet power of a group with a common purpose
attachment to a creation
attention to detail
staying focused
intricacy and simplicity
knowing one's part in the whole

I'd love to witness the nuns at their work, if they call it "work" at all. I would also like to re-commit to taking a more meditative approach to my own work/life style. Life as meditation, in both the being and the doing. When I first set out to do my own independent work, I brought that sensibility with me. In fact it informed my decision to go out on my own, but it became increasingly challenging to maintain over time as I slid into the busyness of business.

The re-commitment I mention is to those early morning practices that I know work for me, if for no other reason than I can tell when I haven't done them. They include personal journaling and a period of sitting meditation. When I do these irregularly -- as I have been -- I can tell the difference in the way I approach my day and my dealings. Conversely, when I do them daily (or as often as I can) I feel more flexible and balanced both inside and out, and less apt to be thrown off by whatever comes my way.

It's certainly not easy to live in the world with the same equanimity that is possible in quiet meditation or solitude, but the principles are the same. And I suppose that's the point: just keep showing up, practicing, and coming back to center.

Just writing about this reminds me of their importance and do-ability for me. More important is approaching them with no goal in mind except to simply do them as best I can -- to keep showing up. If I remember correctly, one of the Buddhist nuns said that it isn't hard to be a monk, but it is hard to be a human being. She also said that it was hard to have a practice, but harder not to have a practice. For some of us, that's something we simply have to live in order to learn.

So I suppose as every day is swept away, we are left to start again.

don't know what I don't know

For the most part, I write to find out what I'm thinking and feeling -- and to go beyond. Sometimes I find a gem, sometimes not, but generally there's value in showing up.

I have a small desk calendar (page-a-day) with lovely mandala artwork. Today's meditation: "As happy as the stream of a great river, so is the sage who enjoys the stream of thought." Nice.

I was reintroduced as an adult to journal writing by a friend who recommended the Progoff journal workshops/process in 1987. Dr. Ira Progoff worked with Carl Jung and employs the image of an underground stream (of consciousness). It was a compelling experience to delve into that underground stream through guided meditation and writing. I remember the exhilaration of being swept along once I stopped trying to grab every branch and outcropping that rushed by. There was a freedom that came with letting go.

What followed were years that included a deep commitment to writing that profoundly influenced -- and reflected -- my life. I tire of hearing people proclaim that something "changed" their lives, but my experience was that writing helped me become more of who I am. In that sense I was changed.

Over the past couple of years, however, what was a regular writing habit has taken a backseat. Not sure what that is all about, but perhaps it was simply a hiatus -- a fallow period. Sometimes doing nothing is exactly what's needed. But lately I've felt the urge to think out loud again. I couldn't find a journal to suit and find myself creating this instead. Who knew?

Intensive Journal

don't ask

Some days are like that. Just spent time carefully crafting my entry and lost it all before I could post it. Makes sense, though.

"You should have an idea of what you are going to do, but it should be a vague idea." Pablo Picasso

I intended to treat this place as one where I could simply write and meander as the spirit moved me -- and invite you to join me. But, of course, my ego got involved and insisted on checking my grammar, spelling and wanted to tweak things repeatedly until there was no life left in it. I got caught up in trying to make it right or correct, and lost it. A noble impulse, but stifling -- and to no avail as it turned out. I guess it was inevitable.

I can only hope that I don't have to go through this every time just so that the universe can teach me another lesson. Better it should just send an e-mail or leave me a message.

Show up, pay attention, tell the truth, and let go of the outcome. I'll keep trying. Repeat after me, "It's the journey not the destination..." Still, it's a pain sometimes.

opening the gates

This morning I sat down to check my e-mail and here I am making my first blog entry. Well, that only took five years and four hours since I first entered cyberspace. And now I've used up my energy deciding whether, where, how, and just what this would look like. (I've opted for a simple backdrop to offset the complexities in life -- and my mind.) The when was inevitable: I was ready. Maybe next time: the why.