Autumn Surrender

Autumn Surrender

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.
W.B. Yeats

Signs of autumn are seemingly everywhere.  The sun is setting earlier and rising later.  Cooler temperatures are beginning to settle in.  And, the leaves on the deciduous trees have become so brilliantly red and yellow that I’ve gone searching in my closet for blouses with similar hues, and finding some tucked behind the pastel pinks and blues.  Likewise with food:  the colors are shifting from the brighter greens to deeper shades in fruits and vegetables.

More than any other season, fall now reminds me of the sacred grace of surrender.  Perhaps it is because in the Northern Hemisphere, there is this easing from a season of growth to one of hibernation.  Like a long exhale, the plants abundantly yield into the beginning of a new cycle and the sustenance of other living beings.  In the letting go, openness seeps in, and light becomes more visible between the bare branches and withering stems.

As a child, this season was mostly a time of new beginnings and looking forward.  Preceding the expected new lessons was a much-anticipated visit to the local drug store for school supplies, which were then pencils and notebooks.   Still, I had some tethers to the timeless rhythms of the generosity that comes with releasing and letting go.  In the agricultural community where I grew up, harvesting was in the gardens and in the fields.  Regardless of whether scarce or plentiful, there was a tending to that what was and preparing for unknown possibility for next year.

Similar to the fall fruits, the insight of W.B. Yeats and other sage poets nourishes future generations – albeit the psyche and the soul rather than the physical body of others.  I feel the bittersweet messages of the autumn season is symbolically reflected within his poem “Gratitude for Unknown Teachers.”  There is a suspension between hope and foreboding, permanence and impermanence and known and unknown, as well as the inevitable disappearance of clinging into surrender.

Practice
This short practice celebrates autumn.

Prepare – 

  • Turn your phone and any other devices to airplane mode.
  • Standing, gently shake out one limb at a time.   Then, lightly bounce in place with a soft bend in your knees and slight lifting and lowering of your heels.

Practice – 

  • Placing your hands over your heart center one hand over the other.
    • With your hands over your heart, invite your awareness to shift to your breath.
      • Perhaps begin by noticing the movements associated with your breathing, e.g., the gentle sensation of expanding and softening of your rib cage.
      • Then, if comfortable, perhaps let your attention shift to allowing your exhalations to slowly lengthen a bit more than your inhalations.
        • If this doesn’t feel accessible to you at this time, please no worries.
      • If you have a cold or allergies, or have any other condition related to your comfort with your respiratory system, please adjust the breathing part of this practice as needed.
    • Slowly, sweep your arms out to your sides and upward.  As you do this, inhale.
      • If possible, synchronize your breath within the movement, i.e., begin your inhalation, moving, and finishing the movement before you complete your inhalation.
    • As you exhale, bring your palms together and down to your heart center.
    • Repeat three times.   After the third time, repeat this again with the option of folding forward on the exhalation and rising back to standing on the inhalation.
      • If you choose the option, please stay mindful of your own body as well as the continued relationship between the breath and the movement.
  • Standing, place your hands over your heart center, one hand over the other.
    • Invite three smooth, even breaths.
    • Continue breathing, adding the following movement on the exhalation:
      • Slowly open your palms, reaching them out in front of you as though offering a gift to the world.  Allow your fingers and wrists to relax as though you are completely letting go.
        • As you let go, invite a sense of freely releasing and total surrender without expectation of accolades or knowing the next part of the journey of this gift.  Simply, let go.
        • Feel free to pause here for a few breaths.
    • When you are ready, return your palms to your heart center on an inhalation.  Feel free to pause here for a few breaths.
    • Repeat another two or three times.

Transition back into your day – 

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

This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 28, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2021.

Crows – harbingers of light

Crows – harbingers of light

Night is passing,
sun comes by dawn,
Awaken now,
beauty’s essence,
heart of love.

Hakim Omar Khayyám
Translated by Nahid Angha, PhD

The neighborhood crows regularly greet me as I open the front door in the morning.  Occasionally, one will hop along the railing of the stairway as I descend from our apartment to the street.  Or, they will swoop overhead so closely that I can feel a slight breeze from their wings.  Once in a while one will walk either in front or back of me along the street.  If none are close by, I can still hear them cawing in the treetops.

During my childhood I regarded crows as scary.  It seemed that their gait was awkward and their nighttime hue was foreboding.  Their voices seemed unnaturally sharp and irritating.   I believed the lore that they were omens of death and danger and associated them with Halloween and ghoulish images of skeletons and ghosts.

Now, instead of associating them with darkness, the crows are my harbingers of light.   They announce the transition between nighttime and daytime, symbolically uniting all pairs of opposites.  It feels that the crows are precious messengers who tirelessly herald the eternal luminosity and its timeless expression in the ebb and flow of life – in the breath, transition of days, seasons, and all forms of living.

In addition to being carriers of the essence of light, the crows are also my reminder to lovingly keep an eye out and care for others.  They patiently keep watch from high perches.  Having a higher perspective, they have a comprehensive view of the full scope of below and above, into the sky.  Their attentiveness seems to fluidly translate into constant and caring communication; for example, if one detects food, there may be a steady cawing until others arrive, along with a careful vigil while they eat.

When one swoops overhead or walks nearby, I am humbly drawn into a renewed awareness of how fears can be temporary.  And, as fears subside, such as my early perspective on crows, there is a de-cluttering of the mind and heart, making more room for the whole of all.  That expanded wholeness allows for a clearer view of the fragile interconnectedness of every morsel of life.  Fears, like hurting others, can hurt all, including ourselves.  And similarly, true caring has no boundaries – it is at the heart of love.

Practice
This short practice supports our capacity to let go.

 Prepare –

  • Turn your phone and any other devices to airplane mode.
  • Find a quiet and comfortable place to sit.
    • If you are on a chair, place the soles of your feet on the floor.
  • Make tight fist with both of your hands and hold for several seconds.
  • Release the fist and lightly shake your lower arms and hands.
  • Lightly brush your fingertips across your face, each of your arms, your torso and your thighs.

Practice –

  • Close your eyes for a few moments. Imagine any unneeded tension is melting.  Let it go from your face, chest, and rest of your body.
  • Open your eyes into a soft gaze.
    • With each inhale, imagine every cell in your body is smiling.
    • With each exhale, imagine your entire body is saying “aaah” as though you were settling into a hammock or a similar comfortable place.
  • Continue for a few minutes.
  • Notice the space between your toes. You might need to wiggle your toes a bit.  Notice the space between your arms and your body.  Notice the space between your fingers.  Notice the space behind you and all around you.
  • Invite an aura of ease into those spaces and imagine that ease is seeping into your skin, tissues, muscles, and organs. Invite ease into the core of your being.
  • Imagine you could hear yourself laughing. Laugh along with yourself.
  • Stand up and shake everything out – arms, legs, feet, hands – and sway from side to side as though you were a moving freely in the air.

Transition back into your day –

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

 

This poem appears in Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 21, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   Photo by photo dan Cardiff.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2021.  I humbly offer this reflection as a tribute to the generous, insightful, and loving spirit of Robert Michael Vogt whom I am honored to have had as a brother in this lifetime for 61 years.  May he abide in Infinite Love.

 

 

 

 

Giving

Giving

I was sad one day and went for a walk:
I sat in a field.
A rabbit noticed my condition and
came near.
It often does not take more than that to help at times-
to just be close to creatures who
are so full of knowing,
so full of love
that they don’t
chat,
they just gaze with
their
marvelous understanding.
(St. John of the Cross, Trans. by Daniel Ladinsky)

 

Autumn is approaching in the Northern Hemisphere.  The daylight hours are slowly giving way to the longer nights, the squirrels are burying their winter stash, and the deciduous trees are baring their trunks.  Even if we miss the cues in nature, nonprofit groups remind us of the arrival of fall with appeals for funds, a new school year has begun, and retail sites are announcing discounts on seasonal products and services.

I feel at the very heart of this season is what I call giving-ness.  “Giving-ness,” to me, is a state where giving and receiving flow seamlessly. It is what sustains and nourishes us in our daily life.  My sense is that, like pure love, this intangible form of giving upholds the world.  With each breath, we exchange gifts with the trees.  Our food arises through the giving presence of the waters and soil.  Symbolically, we give back to the earth through our bodies.  The fall equinox offers a momentary balance in the otherwise constant swing between lightness and darkness.

St. John of the Cross and other mystics often use nature as a way to remind us that we abide in and are inherently part of giving-ness.  My hope is that this awareness will ripple into my daily choices and interactions.   Please join me.

 

Practice
This practice symbolically shakes off unwanted emotions and invites lightness into your heart.

Prepare—

  • Standing.
  • Gently shake one limb at a time, beginning with your right arm. Then, shake your right leg. Then, move to your left side and shake your left arm, and lastly, left leg.
  • Shake each limb for at least 30 seconds. If you have an injury, please take care.

Practice—

  • Begin by reaching both arms upward and apart.
    • Move slowly, as though you are caressing the space around you.
    • Allow the hands and elbows to be relaxed.
  • Then, slowly bring both hands to the center of your chest, with one hand resting over the other.
  • Continue this movement and add an awareness of the breath, as follows.
    • Inhale—Slowly allow your hands and arms to move upward into a “v” position.
      • Joints soft. Imagine you are reaching into the darkness.
    • Exhale—Slowly bring your hands over the center of your chest.
      • Place one hand over the other.
      • Imagine you are accepting lightness into your heart.
      • Allow a feeling of an inner smile as you receive this
      • gift of light.
    • Repeat 5–7 times.

Transition Back into Your Day—

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

 

This reflection is an excerpt from Our Inherited Wisdom:  54 Inspirations from Nature and Poetry, page 203-206, by Kate Vogt.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2021.

Upcoming Online Class
Pathways to Peace: Truthfulness, Non-stealing, Compassion, and Other Universal Principles
October 19-November 16, 5 Tuesdays, 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT, $80.
Registration is through College of Marin Community Education – (415) 485-9305

 

 

 

Shadow – an invitation to belonging

Shadow – an invitation to belonging

If God
invited you to a party and
said,

“Everyone in the ballroom tonight will
be my special
guest,”

how would you then treat them when you arrived?

Indeed, indeed!
And Hafiz knows that there is no one in
this world who is not standing upon

His jeweled dance
floor.

Hafiz
Trans. by Daniel Ladinsky

In recent weeks dragonflies, butterflies, and occasionally a hummingbird have floated alongside me for part of my regular neighborhood walk.  That always sparks childlike delight within me.  Yesterday as I walked in our neighborhood, a shadow traveled beside me.  It was only for a few steps, yet long enough for me to try to ascertain my visceral response from among some of these possibilities: fear, indifference, curiosity, etc.

Oddly, the shadow generated a feeling of comfort.  It enlivened my awareness of belonging to this small part of the planet where I know the undulations and curvatures of the land.  It is much different here from the land where I was raised and will always be my true home.  There, pure openness of the prairie expands in all directions, with wild winds and ever-changing displays in the sky of colors, clouds, and constellations.  That is living on the vast Great Plains of North America. Here, along the coastal west, redwood trees and ferns give way to the wetland grasses along waterways flowing into the Pacific Ocean.

I’d like to believe that more and more humans are beginning to remember our elemental belongingness not only with one another but with all beings – large and small.  Our embodiment is delicately woven of the earthly nutrients, warmth and energy of the sun, patterns of the moon, fluidity of the waters, and grace of the air and space that holds all.  There are the words “kind” and “kin” at the end of the name for our species, beautifully speaking to our innate nature of reciprocity and interrelationship and capacity for compassion.

I was feeling a sense of kinship with my companion shadow.  With its wings evenly stretched to the sides around a perfectly oval core, it glided alongside me.  There was a warm feeling of being shown how to tune inward and synchronize with the harmony that was already pulsing inside me, as well as around me.  This was a neighborhood crow.  Within those few seconds of its presence, I too was gliding and feeling the inseparability and wholeness of the universe, and belonging.

Perhaps this is the divine universality and equality that poets like Hafiz gracefully nudge us to remember through their poetic elegance.  Whether it is the crow, some other part of nature, or Hafiz’s timeless words of wisdom, I welcome reminders to live and move with more awareness, reverence and gratitude for each morsel of life.  I hope you will join me.

Practice
This short practice supports childlike playfulness

Prepare— 

  • Standing, loosely shake out your limbs one at a time.  For example, relax your right arm and shake it out and move it about for thirty seconds or so.  Then, move on to your right leg.
    • Take your time.
    • If you have injuries, please take care and adjust these movements to support your well-being.
  • Then, rotate each of your wrists and ankles, ending with a slow rolling of your chin downward from one side to the other.

Practice  – 

  • Still standing, stretch your arm to the sides, opening up your palms and breathing in deeply.  On an exhale allow your arms to slowly relax to your sides.  Continue let your arms open up like the wings of a bird on an inhalation and relax on an exhalation two more times.
    • Again, please take care if you have any joint issues.
  • With your arms continuing to gracefully move like wings, allow yourself to glide around the room or whatever space you are in, letting your footsteps be light and playful.
  • Continue this for as long as is comfortable, improvising and spontaneously following your playful inspirations.
  • When you are ready, imagine you are coming to rest on a branch.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • Find a comfortable seated position.  Slowly allow your breath to settle down.
  • Sit quietly for as long as is comfortable.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

 

This poem is from Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 95, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  Photo from the Getty collection on iStock.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2021.

 

Fall Online Classes!!
Support Wisdom In Your Life–9/9-30, 3 Thursdays (no class 9/16), 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT, $70
Pathways to Peace: Truthfulness, Compassion, and Other Universal Principles–10/19-11/16, 5 Tues., 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT, $80.

Registration through College of Marin Community Education  – (415) 485-9305

 

Hollyhock – holiness in the everyday

Hollyhock – holiness in the everyday

Silently a flower blooms,
In silence it falls away;
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place,
the whole of the flower,
the whole of the world is blooming.
This is the talk of the flower, the truth of the blossom;
The glory of eternal life is fully shining here.

Zenkei Shibayama
Translated by Sumiko Kudo


It is an early morning, and the skies are gray for the first time in days. The grayness is from a heavy, misty cloud cover.  For the prior week the morning greeting had been a different, smoky shroud, which brought a sad reminder of the wildlife and human habitats being consumed by wildfires north of this coastal area.   This silvery hued sky signals a sense of an old pattern of normalcy,  an indication that the summer was beginning to morph into the fall season, with eventual rain and some hope for the end of this year’s fires.

As I open the front door, the crows caw and a squirrel rushes toward a nearby tree trunk.  With the moistness in the air, the colors of the late summer blossoms seem especially vibrant.  The muted browns and greens are speckled with clear reds, yellows, and purples   I spot a patch of frilly hollyhocks swaying in the gentle, morning breeze.

Even in the gray, their pink petals are open and turned slightly upward toward the invisible sun.  Their stalks are untethered, giving the appearance of these hollyhocks growing freely in the grassy shoulder of the road.  They seem to boldly reveal their innate constitution of earth, water, sun, and air, belonging to all and yet to none, not even themselves.

I feel reminded of my own embodied substrate:  a body composed of the elements, forming a unique container for experiencing these ever-shifting seasons of life.   The gift of communing is through these more basal and shared commonalities of each morsel of life arising and returning to the earth, nourished and sustained by the elements.   The hollyhock spurs an awareness that within each precious container – whether flower, body, mountain, or the entire earth – there is a timeless, essence of eternality: pure spirit.

No wonder the first part of the name hollyhock gives a nod to “holy” or holiness.  Its perfect circle spiraling inward and outward from its base seemingly praises the infinite: both in terms of the ever-present divine untouched by the whirls of time; and, the ever-changing worldliness where one ending is continually merging into a beginning.  Perhaps this is why clumps of hollyhock pollen have been found in human burial remains dated up to sixty thousand years ago.  The holy is always present within the outer form, the outer container, even if we cannot see it.

At this moment, I am grateful for the grace of living reminders, especially in nature.  Amidst the devastation and sadness of wildfires and all the other heart-breaking issues and events occurring on our planet, there is the eternal heartbeat of life.  These natural reminders feel like messengers to slow down, to grow qualities of gentleness, ease, steadiness, and to let go of clinging to that which was never ours in the first place.  Smells are borrowed, flavors are borrowed, sights are borrowed, textures and sounds are borrowed.  Perhaps the hollyhock is inviting us to practice surrender to each touch, word, thought, and breath, just in the way it appears and disappears, as a simple offering of all that it is and is not.

Practice
This practice supports awareness of inner sweetness

Prepare— 

  • Find a comfortable seated position.
    • Take a moment to shake out and stretch through your limbs.  Feel free to move in any way, or as long as you feel is needed for your own comfort.
  • Pause.
    • Imagine you are a plant gently rooting down into, and being supported by, the surface beneath you.
      • Allow your roots to branch out, easing their way downward and outward in all directions, offering a stable and nourishing base.
    • From this sense of connection to the surface beneath you, invite your spine to gently lengthen upward.
      • Imagine that, as a plant, your stem is slowly and evenly growing from your roots upwards through your spine.

Practice  – 

  • With this sense of rising upward while firmly grounded, bring your hands over your heart center, one hand resting gently on top of the other.
  • Take a few breaths.
    • Imagine on the inhalation that your breath is expanding and radiating outward in all directions from the core of your heart.    On your exhalation, it slowly lets go and effortlessly recedes on its own.
  • Pause.
    • Allow your breath to be free and easy as you shift your awareness to the depths of your being.
    • Imagine that, as a plant, all your energy is gathered in there – at the very core of your heart.
    • Imagine flowery petals emerging from there, creating a frilly and light, almost ethereal, blossom.
  • Sustain your awareness at the core of you heart:  the home of your sweet, eternal essence, which is always there.
    • If comfortable, breathe here for a few more breaths, your inhalation gently expanding outward into the world, and your exhalation returning home to the sweetness within.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • Sit quietly for as long as is comfortable.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

 

This poem is from Mala of Love: 108 Luminous Poems, page 121, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  Photo by Jay Rosner.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.   KateVogt©2021.

 

Please consider joining me this fall for one of my fall online classes.
– Support Wisdom in Your Life – This short class offer insight and tips for self-management of fears and desires related to daily life. 3 Thursdays, September 9 – 30 (no class on the 16th), 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT.
– Pathways to Peace: Truthfulness, Non-stealing, Compassion, and Other Universal Principles – This five week class delves into timeless human principles as keys for personal, planetary, and collective well-being.   We will refer to an Eastern text called the Yoga Sutra of Patanjali.  5 Tuesdays, October 19 – November 16, 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT.

Registration is now open for these classes through the College of Marin Community Education.

 

 

Geranium – inspiring resilience

Geranium – inspiring resilience

Meditate within eternity.
Don’t stay in the mind.
Your thoughts are like a child fretting
near its mother’s breast, restless
and afraid, who with a little guidance,
can find the path of courage.

Lalla
Trans. by Coleman Barks

Over the past several months I’ve developed a new habit.  It is probably minor in the scheme of all the possible habits, but I’m ruminating on it because it is new.  And, because it has come about not only when a life-threatening virus is sweeping through the world, but also escalating severe natural disasters and human struggles.

Each morning, I now check on the geranium plant outside our front door – only a glimpse, but enough so that I was aware that my check had become routine.  This plant has been through many iterations.  It began as a houseplant, but because of the low light in our apartment I moved it outside to a sunny area.   Within a few days, the local deer had discovered it and eaten all but a bit of the stems.   I repotted and moved it to a spot where it grew and bloomed, until, the neighborhood crows began landing on the dirt at the edge of the pot and toppling it over; however, for the past year, it has steadily grown and formed new buds and sets of red blossoms.

I’m not sure when I began a daily acknowledgement of this particular plant.  I’m in the habit of greeting all of our indoor plants each morning, out of appreciation for the way they cleanse the air and their quiet presence.   Since the geranium is an outdoor plant, I normally would have noticed it only once or twice per week, but likely I increased that soon after the deer had eaten the flowers off the other outdoor plants.

Over time, I’ve grown to deeply respect this hardy, resilient being.   It reminds me of my grandparents and parents who survived and weathered many storms in life, including the Dust Bowl, the Great Depression, a major world war and many personal disappointments and losses.  It reminds me of our collective human ancestors who survived and showed the way for others.  It reminds me of wise prophets, saints, and poet seers such as Lalla, who survived hardships with patience, kindness, and equanimity, and then compassionately shared gems of truth to uplift and guide the rest of us.

I trust this simple yet robust plant and am glad it is part of my new habit.  It continues show me ways to navigate life.  For example, it thrives on little water and care, yet it absorbs what it gets, multiplies it, and gives back abundantly.   If the deer come, it will regrow.  As a plant, it has its own way of recognizing threats, but it continues to stay rooted and freely offer the world its bright colors and fan-shaped leaves.   I hope you will join me in honoring the plant world!

Practice
This practice supports inner resilience and courage anchored in kindness.

Prepare— 

  • Find a comfortable standing position with your feet about hip-distance apart.
    • This may be with or without shoes.
    • If you are not able to stand for any reason, please feel free to skip to the latter third of the practice.
  • Steadily and gradually shift your weight from one foot to the other.
    • Do this a few times.
  • Stilling your movement, pause.
    • Notice the surface beneath your feet.
      • Invite an awareness of its offering of support to you at this time and in this moment.
      • Lightly walk in place, lifting one foot and solidly but gently placing it down before lifting the opposite foot.

Practice  – 

  • With your feet grounded, gently bounce through your knees – a small and barely visible bounce.
    • Invite a sense of trust of the strength in the large muscles in the upper part of your legs, e.g., the frontal ones called the quadriceps.
      • Lightly tap your palms on the front of your thighs saying, “I have confidence in my natural strength.”
  • Still standing, allow yourself to feel securely supported by the earth and the strength in your lower body.
    • For a few moments, gently sway like a plant in a summer breeze.
      • Open your arms to your sides, slightly away from your body.
        • Allow your palms to be open and facing forward, and your fingers lightly relaxed.
        • Invite a sense of openness in your torso and throat. Invite your eyes and facial muscles to relax.
      • Invite a few easy breaths into your mid-ribs.
        • If comfortable, invite a soft, sincere smile from the inside out.
      • Quietening the movement in your upper body, return to a comfortable, easy stance while retaining a sense of steadiness in lower body and ease in the upper.
      • Breathe:
        • Inhale: While inhaling allow your arms to radiate outward and upward from the side of your body.
          • Note: If you have shoulder issues, simply stand and breathe without movement.
        • Pause: Pause with your arms alongside your ears, palms facing inward.  Take a full breath.
          • Note: Allow your elbows to bend if that offers more ease in your shoulders.
        • Exhale: While exhaling, bow your head slightly and cross your palms in front of your face to bring them to the front of opposite shoulder.
          • e., your right palm to the front of your left shoulder, and your left palm to the front of your left shoulder. (Your fingertips will be lightly touching your collarbones and your wrists will be crossed.)
        • Pause: Pause with your hands touching the front of the opposite shoulder and your head slightly bowed.   If comfortable, close your eyes.
          • Invite a sense of peaceful kindness toward your whole self – from your innermost self, to your body, senses, mind, and breath.
            • Breathe in and out one smooth, easy, breath.
          • Invite a sense of peaceful kindness toward others while staying steady with a sense of kindness toward yourself.
            • Breathe in and out two smooth, easy, breaths.
          • Invite a sense of peaceful kindness toward all beings while staying steady with a sense of kindness toward yourself.
            • Breathe in and out three smooth, easy, breaths.
          • Gently say to yourself, “I am grounded inwardly in peaceful kindness. This offers me courage and resilience to stay inwardly grounded and steady in the midst of outer struggles and changes.   In this kindness, I am strong and supported.”

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • Find a comfortable seated position.
  • Sit quietly for as long as is comfortable.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

 

This poem is from Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 6, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2021.

 

Fall Online Classes!!  Register Now!

Support Wisdom In Your Life
September 9-30, 3 Thursdays (no class 9/16), 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT, $70

Pathways to Peace: Truthfulness, Non-stealing, Compassion, and Other Universal Principles –October 19-November 16, 5 Tuesdays, 3:10-4:30 p.m. PT, $80

Registration through College of Marin Community Education 
(415) 485-9305, or contact me for more information

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