Trees – living essence

by KateVogt | Aug 10, 2022 | Life Inspiration, Nature

There’s a tree that existed before the woods,
in age twice as old.
Its roots suffered as the valley changed,
its leaves deformed by wind and frost.
People all laugh at its withered aspect,
caring nothing about the core’s beauty.
When the bark is all stripped off,
only essence remains.

Hanshan
Trans. by Tony Barnstone

This morning I was introduced to Lillie.  While the name might sound like a new app or clothing line, Lillie is something more rare—she is a lithe, 101-year old woman.  A tiny fraction of one percent of the world population is centenarian.  The wrinkled face and hands give a hint of a century of living, but like most her age, she doesn’t dwell on the hardships of epidemics and wars, or unrealized aspirations.

In tree years, Lillie would be a sapling among some species.  For example, a spruce in Sweden is recorded to have lived about 9,550 years.  Even as sapling, Lillie’s demeanor and attitude reflect the generosity of trees.   She loves caring for her daughter and son-in-law, not because they house her, but because she has a tree-like nature. There is a continual offering of strength, stillness, protection, nourishment, stability, refuge, receptivity, giving, and serenity.

Trees have long served as symbols of lasting wisdom.  Most world cultures have tales of sacred trees. For example, in the ficus family: the pipal or bodhi (F. religiosa) repre- sents happiness, longevity, and prosperity; the banyan (F. bengalensis), eternal life; and the sycamore (F. sycomorus), infinite connectivity between life and death.  There are references to trees of life, knowledge, and perfection. And, there are promises that whoever knows the tree will be the knower of all truth. Their verticality is a reminder of our own rootedness in the earth, upright trunk and crown reaching toward the heavens.

As I read this poem by Hanshan, a 9th century poet- hermit, I felt as though I was near an ancient elder.  Hanshan reaches across time and gathers together universal stories of our shared roots and lasting, spiritual nature. His imagery of a valley is symbolic of life itself as fertile and transitory.  And, of the tree itself, it conveys a timeless essence, full of beauty and free of all rivalry and to amass more than is needed.  I feel as though if I look carefully, I can find this or a similarly seasoned tree nearby.  When I do, I will sit near its roots and simply listen.

Practice 
This practice supports awareness of living essence in all realms. 

 Prepare— 

• Standing, gently shake out your arms, wrists and hands.
• Still standing, close your eyes (if comfortable).  In your mind’s eye, imagine being able to see beyond the immediate space where you are to the surrounding landscape in all directions.  For example, there may be hills on the distant horizon in one direction, and vast open grasslands in every other direction.  Imagine that landscape within your heart.  Pause for a moment and seal in the memory of that landscape before opening your eyes.

Practice— 

• Then, settle into a comfortable seated position.  If you are on a chair or bench, allow the soles of your feet to rest on the floor.
• Imagine you are a tree, and the earth is receiving your roots.  Your roots are nourished by the water, the soil, and all the micro-nutrients.  Feel your roots deepening and growing in all directions.
• Momentarily recall that wherever you are on the planet you are part of the full story of the Earth along with countless other living beings.  Invite an appreciation of the Earth lovingly offering courage and strength to you through your roots.
• With continued awareness of the embrace of the soil, close your eyes (if comfortable) and return to the sense of the landscape abiding within your heart.  Notice the spaciousness of the landscape.  Pause for a moment, bathing in a sense of inner and outer spaciousness.  Open your eyes, if they were closed.
• Shift your awareness back to the part of your touching and rooting into the Earth.  Become aware of the part of you rising up from the surface of the soil, e.g., the trunk of your body.   Imagine within the landscape surrounding you there is a forest of trees – all with firm, steady trunks.  Appreciate all life nourished by the Earth and the spaciousness.  Pause here and breathe with that awareness.
• Slowly become aware of the crown of your head, and the spaciousness not only in all horizontal directions but infinitely stretching above you.  Imagine you have invisible limbs reaching into this upper spaciousness and receiving the warmth and light of the sun.  Pause here and breathe with that awareness of being rooted, growing upward, and spreading in all directions.
• Once again, close your eyes and remember the landscape in your heart – all beings including you abide there in the expanse of life.  Appreciate that you are the body of the whole, you are wholeness.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

• Sit quietly for several minutes.  Rest the backs of your hands rest on your thighs, palms upward.
• When you feel complete, return to your day.

This poem appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 111, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   The reflection is an excerpt from “Our Inherited Wisdom:  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry” by Kate Vogt, page 38-40. HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.

VINES – voices of interconnectivity

by KateVogt | Aug 10, 2022 | Life Inspiration, Nature

Sometimes afraid of reunion, sometimes
of separation: You and I, so fond of the notion
of a you and an I, should live
as though we ’d never heard those pronouns.

Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

On first glimpse, the weather seems normal in our neighborhood.  There are the usual patterns of morning and evening fog cover.  The deciduous trees have large, green crowns and the midday sky is a clear blue.  Yet a closer look shows troubling signs of drought, such as shallow water in the creeks and an earlier than usual appearance of deer and other wildlife searching for food at lower elevations.

I am not sure if it is merely my imagination, but it seems that with the drought, one plant form seems more prolific than ever.  In recent weeks, I’ve been noticing more and more vines.  They are creeping across sidewalks and stairs, wrapping trunks of trees, and enveloping gateways and fences.

Regardless of the type of vine, each has masterfully found a way to grow and flourish wherever it was planted.  They move beautifully by fluidly meandering and creatively spiraling around whatever is nearby.  Some of them adorn themselves with magnificent blossoms, and others produce clusters of fruit.

It is no wonder that vines have long been considered as wise models of endurance, steadfastness, and immortality.  Vines are featured in the mythology of the Mayans, Aztecs and other early peoples of what is now called the Americas for their transcendent qualities and medicinal values.  Ancient Celts recognized the grapevine as being a voice of interconnectivity and representing the eternal life of all things in the universe.  Ivy was lauded by early Egyptians for its everlasting soul, and later by Greeks and Romans for unwavering vigor and abundance.

In their robustness, vines resourcefully thrive.  Once they make a connection with something, they cling and rarely let go.  Yet sometimes they are overly attached, and suffocate other plants or cause fissures in foundations and structures. Their vitality is singular in an inherent drive for survival, but successful in intact environments where they can continually bond and develop.

Hence, for me, vines are a living reminder that true wellbeing is the wellbeing of the whole and all the parts.  They remind me of the delicate, relational interdependence of all living beings.  A vine that overtakes too much loses the others on whom it has survived, and thus dies and is left as a dry twig.  Perhaps, by paying attention to vines, I’ll be a little more aware of the grace of life and notice the ways I overreach and otherwise block its flow in everyday living.  I hope you will join me.

Practice
This practice brings awareness of the interconnection between breath and subtle actions.   

Prepare—

• Seated or standing.
• Simply notice your breath. Perhaps, notice the movements associated with your breath, e.g.,  in your ribs, shoulders, belly, and back.   Or, notice the rhythm of your breath as you inhale and exhale.  Just noticing with no need to change anything.
• Now, intentionally, invite a sense of ease in your breath, i.e., breathing with as little effort as possible.

Practice—

• Between each of the following practices, take a moment to stretch out your hands. Then, shake out your arms and smile.  Within each practice, notice what happens to your breath, e.g., notice if it still feels easeful and effortless.   (Note: If you are feeling tension in your breath, please pause for a few moments before continuing.)
  • Scrunch up your face tightly. Notice your breath.
  • Glare, as though looking at your phone or a screen. Notice your breath.
  • Frown, as though concentrating deeply. Notice your breath.
  • Slump your shoulders and let your head hang forward. Notice your breath.
  • Make tight fists and squeeze all the muscles in your arms. Notice your breath.
  • Observe something beautiful around you, such as a flower. Notice your breath.
  • If you have a view of nature, rest your eyes on a tree or another part of nature. Notice your breath.
  • Smile, as though smiling from your heart. Notice your breath.
  • Touch your fingers lightly to your lips, kiss your fingers, and then release the kiss into the air by moving your hands outward and upward toward the sky. Notice your breath.

Transition Back into Your Day—

• Take a few moments to sit quietly with your eyes closed or open (in a soft gaze). Let your hands rest comfortably in your lap.
• As you are ready, transition back into your day.

This poem appears in Mala of Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 40, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   The practice is an excerpt from “Our Inherited Wisdom:  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry” by Kate Vogt, page 273-274.   HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.

Waterfall

by KateVogt | May 30, 2022 | Life Inspiration, Nature

Since I was cut from the reed bed
I have made
this crying sound. Anyone
separated from someone he loves
understands what I say:
            Anyone pulled
           from a source
          longs to go back.

Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

The morning light was intense.  Its radiance blurred the usual distinctive outlines of the trees and pathways.  In the near absence of these visual cues, I felt the soundscape pour into my awareness.

A swoosh passed overhead, reminding me of the crows along this path accompanying any passerby with aerial playfulness.  One of my shoelaces clicked rhythmically with each footstep.  Between the trill of sound birds, there was an occasionally rustling of the tree branches.   Just as the sun shifted and shapes began to reappear, I felt myself drawn toward a distant roaring.

There was something primal about the consistency of this sound.  Rather than a roar, it was perhaps more akin to a purr or even a steady murmuring of “aaaah.”   It was something outside my inner textbook of rumbling sounds, most of which are human-created roars with machinery or large crowds.  This murmuring seemed to be a call to remember the sacred sound of life.

A continuum of “aaaah” not only expressing euphoric exaltation of awe but, even more poignantly, the gut-felt wail of deep torment and heartache.  Even symbolically, the expansive openness of a long “a” disappears into the crisp brevity of the “h,” which then leaves a void for the “aaaah” to arise again.   An endless cycle gracing, shedding and renewing itself within each breath, pulsebeat, footstep, or any other earthly gesture.  Here, that gesture was a waterfall.

Although I could not yet see the falls, the path meandered in the direction of the sound.   Along the way there were giant boulders and rock faces shaped long ago by glaciers.  Meadows stretched across open spaces, offering soundless expression of the same snowmelt that relentlessly and loudly sighed “aaah” in tumbling over the rocky cliff.  Soon, moisture would evaporate and again rise upward toward the sky, forming clouds; then, likely another round of snow, later melting in the intensity of sunlight.

Practice
This practice supports awareness of an inner anchor of peacefulness in the midst of chaos. 

Prepare— 

• Either standing or seated, slowly stretch your arms outward and upward.  (If you have shoulder issues, please adjust this movement to your comfort level.)   Breathe here for one or two gentle breaths.
• Slowly, on an exhalation bring your palms to the top of your head allowing their weight to rest there.  Breathe her for one or two gentle breaths.
• Then, on your next exhalation, allow your hands to slide down across your face to your shoulders, torso and thighs.  If comfortable, slide them down your legs toward the floor.  Imagine as though all the tension in your body is melting away with the warmth of your hands.
• Slowly, on next inhalation, come back to a neutral spine, either standing or seated upright.  Again, breathe here for several gentle breaths.

Practice— 

• Seated.
• If comfortable, close your eyes.  Invite an awareness of the surface beneath you fully and unconditionally supporting your weight and offering a sense of peaceful groundedness.
• Invite a few easy breaths. Then, rest one hand over the other on your heart center.
• Allow yourself to feel the gentle movement associated with your breathing beneath your hands – a slight expansion on the inhalation and gentle softening inward of the ribs as you exhale.
• With your hands still resting on your heart center, quietly say the sound “aaaah” 5-6 times, allowing each to seamlessly arise after one another.
• Invite your hands to rest on your thighs in any position that is comfortable.  Mentally, repeat the sound “aaaah” 5-6 more times.
• Pause. Invite a sense of peaceful, inner spaciousness.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

• Sit quietly for several minutes, in any way that is comfortable.
• Then, when you are ready, return to your day.

This poem appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 12, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.

New Moon – renewed perspective

by KateVogt | Mar 31, 2022 | Life Inspiration, Nature

I was delighted with myself,
having offered everything that I had;
my heart, my faith, my work.

“And who are you,” you said,
“to think you have so much to offer?
It seems you have forgotten
where you’ve come from.”

Rumi
Trans. by Coleman Barks

“Moon.”  It was simple one-word exclamation.  Yet, to be sure that I understood her latest discovery, my youngest neighbor – a toddler named Natalia – reached her arm toward the sunny afternoon sky and pointed.  She repeated, “moon?,” although this time with an inflection of curiosity.

As I mimicked her – pointing upward and whispering moon – Natalia beamed at having successfully communicated.  She was with her grandmother, who seemed equally proud. Apparently Natalia was excited about her new understanding that the moon is up there in the daytime sky, and had been testing everyone along their afternoon walk.

It seemed like such an insignificant interaction, yet it caused me to ponder the ethics within our verbal exchanges, e.g., honesty, humility.  There is so much that happens within milliseconds.  Natalia had, in her own childhood way, deemed me as a grown-up who would responsibly respond to her in that moment.

Part of my pondering came about because it was a day of a new moon, when the moon is not only absorbed in the nighttime hues but invisible during the daytime.   Our minds in many ways are similar to the moon, with the potentiality to fully reflect the luminosity of eternal truth.  Yet, for the most part, our mind only catches glimpses of the truth.

The Sufi and poet Rumi reminds me that, within the shadowy orbits of life, I should remember that my human mind is vulnerable to misperception.   I found his words helpful as I reflected on how trustingly Natalia looked to others for affirmation with her learning to communicate and navigate the social nuances of human connections.  She offered a small lesson in the humility of remembering the deep responsibility that comes when someone asks for our advice or opinion.  In the coming weeks, I hope to continue to reflect on the gift from Natalia . . . and the moon.

Practice
This short practice invites awareness of inner awareness.

Prepare – 

• Find a quiet spot where you can sit with minimal distractions or interruptions.
  • If seated on a chair or bench, evenly rest the soles of your feet on the floor.
• Take a moment to shake out through your arms and roll out through your shoulders.
• Then, sit quietly with your hands comfortably resting on your thighs.  Invite awareness to your breath.  Just take notice of how it feels in this moment, e.g., raspy, calm, and smooth?

Practice – 

• For each of the following, take six breaths.  Invite your breath to be smooth and even:
  • Close your eyes (and take six breaths)
  • Again with your eyes closed, place your middle fingers on your eyelids, index fingers on your forehead, and thumbs on your temples (again, take six breaths)
  • Repeat the previous by moving your thumbs onto your ear flaps, i.e., closing off the outer sounds (again, take six breaths)
    • Note:  you may wish to lightly rest your ring fingers on the outer edges of your nostrils and your little fingers on the corners of your mouth.
• Relax your hands in lap.  Sit quietly, either with your eyes closed or resting in a soft gaze.
  • Notice any areas of your body where you may be holding extra tension.  Gently shift your awareness to an area that feels tense.  Invite more calmness and relaxation into that area with each inhale, letting go of tension on the exhales.  Repeat with as many areas of your body as you wish.

Transition back into your day – 

• Sit quietly for a few moments.
• When you are ready, return to your day.

The verse appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 31, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2021.