AbunDance

Today was the last Saturday Farmer's Market here in Ashland, Oregon. For three months, I have been eating the most nutritious delicious fresh organic produce from the farmers of the Rogue Valley. I appreciate the willingness of the farmers to trade their beautiful fruits & vegetables for my paintings and drawings; such a luscious trade of energies for which I am grateful!

≈ Celebrating Bodhi ≈

Bodhi, little happiness bringer, thank you for your joyful, confident light!

Bodhi came into this world one year ago today (29th of October, 2008). We met the next day.

For the first eight months of Bodhi's life, I posted photos often to flickr and created a Bodhi Set. Then...

On June 21st, 2009, in New Mexico, while Yuki, Jesse, Bodhi, and I were camping, Bodhi disappeared. He got spooked by the rumbling sound of a diesel engine in the campground. Although Bodhi was wearing a harness which was attached to a leash, tied with five knots to the picnic table, and in my arms at the time, he wriggled out -- to be free and safe from the scary sound. That was the last time we saw him. I had been feeding all of them a special treat of sardines at the time, hand-feeding little Bodhi, in my arms. I spent 2 weeks looking for Bodhi, staying at the campground and in the area, but he did not reappear.

I feel that Bodhi is still alive. I feel this everyday very strongly. We have talked. I also feel that Bodhi is happy and healthy, very playful and confident, just as he was when we were together physically.

At first, when he burst out of his harness like a bucking bronco, I was stunned. My arms were also scratched up and bleeding (but it didn't hurt). It all happened so quickly that I did not see which way he went or where he went. It's as if he exploded or burst into the sky and vanished.

When I did my daily searches for him -- walking and hiking in the area, talking to people, calling to him, registering at the local animal shelter, putting sardines into the have-a-heart-trap I borrowed, putting up posters, driving the nearby highway, etc. -- I sometimes thought I saw him. Is that Bodhi? A certain playful curl of a flattened rope or rag on the road made me stop to take a closer look; a black dumbbell on a bench seen from the window of a friend's camper looked like Bodhi in loaf position playfully waiting for me to see him.

~*~

I am not sad anymore. My heart expands with joy and gratitude whenever I imagine Bodhi. I feel Bodhi's utter confidence and lightness of being, and his playfulness and joy as my own joy... his best qualities seem to have strengthened those same attributes in my being and personality. Maybe I have become a great tree-climber, too! I have yet to test that one out... :)

Bodhi enjoyed a wonderful life with us, first in our home in Tucson, then across the country on our drive to Virginia and to Maggie's, and then again, across the country on our drive to New Mexico with Yuki and Jesse. During our 3-1/2 month stay in Virginia, Bodhi was best buds with Jasper, Maggie's 16-year old black cat. Jasper and Bodhi played together everyday. Bodhi enjoyed Maggie's kind care and loving attention, too. In particular, he liked that Maggie allowed him to curl up inside her large clay bowls (see below photo).

Bodhi nursed with Moxie, his tortoise shell mother, for a full 8 weeks, longer than any of his siblings. All the kittens lived, cuddled, and played together in Tucson at Moxie's house (just a hop and a skip from my house) with my neighbors Therese and José Luís.

Bodhi distinguished himself as an excellent climber early on, so much, that Therese and José Luís gave him the nickname of "Spider." I knew Bodhi was Bodhi from the first time I saw him, an awake one (from the Sanskrit root word, Bodh, meaning 'awake'). Bodhi's full name is Bodhi Seed "Spider" Stern.

I don't actually know if Bodhi is alive or dead. I feel he is alive and that he has good cat survival skills to enable him to live well in the mountains of Northern New Mexico. He was unusually smart and quick, a great climber, very curious and playful, and a happy, happy kitten with sharp claws with which to climb and hunt. Coyotes and foxes live in the area where we were camped. However, I believe that Bodhi's sharp claws and excellent tree-climbing ability have served him well. There are plenty of little animals (i.e., rodents) that Bodhi could hunt and also some houses in the area where he might have been taken in and/or where he could find food and shelter if he wants it. I see Bodhi enjoying his free life; I see him as happy.

The morning that Bodhi broke out of his harness, he was kissing and licking my face as we lay inside the tent, kissing me as he always did in the mornings. I kissed his soft furry chest and actually took some pictures of us and him, plus Yuki and Jesse. A little while later he was gone.

Maybe he missed us at first, like I missed him at first... But he is a cat and his survival skills are strong.

Maybe he will reappear. Maybe not. The shelter has a file on him and knows how to contact me if he is found. It could happen. And, when I talk to him, I tell him to let himself be found and brought to the shelter so we can come and bring him home.

Anyway, I am celebrating Bodhi today. I am so grateful we had 8 beautiful months together.

Happy Continuation Day, Happiness Bringer. Thank You

We love you, little Bodhi-chan.

A deciduous autumn

Drinking Ti Kuan Yin Oolong out of my everyday porcelain kyuusu with the sound of raindrops all around. Cool air, warm socks, hot tea, furry friends, colored pencils, watercolors, paper, and the swooping call of a bird. Wet, brown and yellow leaves are plastered to the green grass outside. A deciduous autumn.

eNvisioNing, N-less, eN-ee-way

The "N" key on my laptop is not working. In order to type an N, now, I have to copy and paste large and small "N"s or use the π sign for my πame, like so: ∏icole. Maybe if I turn the Z key around, I would get an N...

Missing the N shows me that "N"s appear often in words and it reminded me of a book I'd heard about, in which the author purposely wrote his story without using the letter E at all.

Joyous

I-I-I-I-I-I-I (spoken sing-song like the Angel in Tony Kushner's Angels in America)

am

drinking

a

cup

of

oolong tea

from a

teapot

and the wind

is blowing

-- or --

Is it the

leaves that are blowing?

A Zen master said

it is our minds that are moving...


Next to the teapot is a beautiful orange-y ripe peach with red markings -- but not for long -- 'cuz I'm going to devour this juicy wonder. I will take a photo of it first, Just in case I want to paint it. I read once that Mme. Matisse (Henri's wife) would become angry with Henri for bringing home beautiful fruits and vegetables when she thought they were poor. Instead of eating them, he'd arrange a still-life. By the time Henri finished the painting, most of the fruits had become soft and old. I like that story, first, because of the Spirit to create and the emanations of Light and Color that surged through him and the fruit, second, because Henri knew he was rich beyond measure to be so inSpired, enThused, and inFused with Light and Color, and thirdly, because I like to imagine Henri in his suit painting (he always painted wearing a suit jacket and trousers) in a stream of light at a wooden table where a bowl of fruit glowed for him.

The Wisdom of Wind, the Power of Trees

Today is Sunday.

The air is different today than yesterday. The leaves are swishing more and it feels cooler and more like Autumn. As I begin writing this entry, I am listening to Krishna Das singing these words from his Door of Faith CD, "I have found a way to live in the presence of the Lord..." interspersed with the chant, "Rama Rama Rama Sita Rama Rama Ram...."

I feel relieved when the CD comes to an end, as KD's singing competes with my writing mind. Right on cue, the mower that's been droning nearby stops, too. Ahhhhhh, just the sounds of swishing leaves now, melodic wind chimes, and the scratchy lapping up sound of Yuki's tongue licking a bit of coconut oil from a plastic tarp.

There are other sounds, too -- high bird chirpings, voices of neighbors coming in and out of range, the metal on metal sound of screen doors opening and closing, crunchy leaves on cement patio being swept by a broom, the occasional car driving past, staccato tweet tweet tweet of a bird, and the swirling sweetness of wind chimes. The overriding sound I hear, though, is that of Autumn: the music that trees and bushes make as wind circulates around and through leaf and branch, down to their roots, massaging their trunks.

"Soon it will be time for us to be quiet," they say. "For now, let us dance and sing and enjoy the rush of wind on our stems, bark, and leaves."




Who's Kissing Who? (image from my 52 Weeks Set on flickr)

Sound does that.

Walking through Lithia Park yesterday without Yuki... Around one of the ponds, a cellist had set up and was playing Bach so beautifully. People were sitting on benches, listening with eyes closed, while others were picnicking. A man was at his easel painting in oils... Such a gorgeous moment with the light, deep green of tall trees, sparkles on water, and the sound of cello weaving us all together.

perfect glowing greenness

The grapes of my body can only become wine

After the winemaker tramples me.

I surrender my spirit like grapes to his trampling

So my inmost heart can blaze and dance with joy.

Although the grapes go on weeping blood and sobbing

"I cannot bear any more anguish, any more cruelty"
The trampler stuffs cotton in His ears:
"I am not working in ignorance

You can deny me if you want, you have every excuse,

But it is I who am the Master of this Work.

And when, through my Passion, you reach perfection,

You will never be done praising my name."

Rumi (not sure who the translator was; this poem came to me in an email without citation -- maybe Coleman Barks??)

Some kind of gestation...

It's been 9 months since my last post and... Here I am (Hineni).

I am in Oregon where there is no such thing as self-service gas, a gas attendant pumps it for you. I like that -- no fumes to breathe in and no gas smells on my hands. Other things I like: yummy, sweet blackberries growing all over, environmental awareness, trees, the mountains here in Ashland, the ocean and wide beaches of the Northern coast, friendly, friendly people, and all the arts and culture here in Ashland. Now to learn what other edibles grow wild around here.

My new little munchkin, Bodhi

Bodhi was born on October 29th, 2008 and came to live with Jesse, Yuki, and me on New Year's Eve. I first met him when he was barely 2 days old. I've been taking photos of him from day 2 (and through all his gender changes, which you can find out about when/if you read my flickr posts within the Bodhi Set).

Happiest New Year 2009 to All, 明けましておめでとうございます！Every day is a good day!

Ganesha comes to the Desert

Listening to Krishna Das chanting the Hanuman Chalisa on this cold (for Tucson) late autumn day. I look up from the keyboard and see chartreuse green leaves of the mesquite and the green trunk of palo verde. The sky is blue with white cloud puffs hanging. Low-hanging clouds are obscuring the top halves of all the mountains around here. I will see soon when i go out to do some errands if there's snow on the mountains. I like snow.

inner strength, trust

If fear is part of growth, how do we develop inner strength and how do we develop trust?

Trust is a very important part of the spiritual journey. Not trust in a particular outcome, but trust that you can open to the present moment. And we don't just automatically have that trust; it's something that we develop... [through/with]... mindfulness.

~Pema Chödrön, Noble Heart.

magic star & butterfly

teapot no. 243 (no. 43 of the third set of 100 teapots)

~*~

Sitting in front of the open window with my palo verde and mesquite tree friends and some cholla and prickly pear cactus. I'm wrapped up in a wool shawl, sipping oolong tea out of my newest little teapot. Turtle beans are cooking in a big pot in the kitchen. Their overnight soaking water had turned purple-y this morning ... would make a fine textile dye, I thought, but fed the water to the rosemary bush instead.

Jesse just crossed the wide space between my house and the neighbor's. she looks around, crouches down, and scurries across to the safety of a porch. The squatty pipes on D's house look like a Buddha and her recently trimmed trellis vine looks like a sadhuni's trident. Tree branch and cactus pads cast angel shadows and reach toward the blue sky. Good to feel the blessings that abound and see the angels all around. Out into the day now ~ will walk with Yuki, feed the baby mesquite tree, plant wildflower seeds, bicycle over to the pottery studio for open lab, and pick up a mop on my way home... it's a beautiful day.

a selection of my recent paintings, handmade books, and pottery

teapot paintings ~ 233-237

See the growing collection here

recent teapot paintings (227-232)

[this is the inverted version of teapot no. 32 ~ colors digitally inverted]

tea & oranges ~ teapot no. 26 (226)

***

Suzanne

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river
You can hear the boats go by
You can spend the night beside her
And you know that she's half crazy
But that's why you want to be there
And she feeds you tea and oranges
That come all the way from China
And just when you mean to tell her
That you have no love to give her
Then she gets you on her wavelength
And she lets the river answer
That you've always been her lover
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that she will trust you
For you've touched her perfect body with your mind.
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
For he's touched your perfect body with his mind.

Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbour
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she's touched your perfect body with her mind.

~lyrics by Leonard Cohen

teapots 222, 223, 224, & 225

teapots 218, 219, 220, 221

Tea with Nuestra Señora y Gatita (teapot no. 21/221):



Tea with Ganesha (teapot no. 20/220):



Kanzeon no Chamise (teapot no. 19/219):



Tea with Lizard (teapot no. 18/218):

new teapot paintings - nos. 215, 216, 217

See my three teapot sets here:

3rd Set of 100 Teapots
[13 Dec. 2007 & resumed 11 May 2008 - ]

2nd Set of 100 Teapots
[8 Dec. 2006 - 31 Oct. 2007]

1st Set of 100 Teapots
[22 Dec. 2005 - 2 Oct. 2006]

May All Beings Be Nourished

Breeze of delight

Here are some friends we met on our walk today ~

it's May now :)

Up early this morning, I smiled at the pink and orange streaks in the sky through the openings between prickly pear pads. Got dressed, drank some cool rooibos tea with rose petals floating in it from last night that i left on my dresser. Yuki and I walked out into the day.

happy April!

the Sun in our hearts

~Nature mirrors the growth inside us~

It's Springtime!!!

HapPy Year of the Rat

Continuum. 2007 to 2008 and beyond!

From Turtle Tranquility Temple,
at this end-of-the-year
beginning-of-the-new-year cusp,
Yuki, Jesse, and I wish all our friends
(and all beings)
continued good health, abundance, and contentment.

May we always remember
our lives, this earth, our universe,
all beings, and all events with Gratitude-Appreciation-and-Joy.
From 2007 into 2008 with Love.

明けましておめでとうございます！
皆様、今年もどうぞよろしくお願いいたします。

The Real Work

[click on the image to see it enlarged]

The poem below is a recycling of a post from July 2005 and feels appropriate for this moment in my life. Dedicated with love to everyone I love. I've paired it with the above drawing I did about three years ago. I put this drawing out to the universe as my "build it and they will come" desire. I want to build a school where language learning and arts and hands-on projects are everyday inspirations. Draw it and it will manifest??

The Real Work

It may be that when we no longer know what to do
we have come to our real work,
and that when we no longer know which way to go
we have come to our real journey.
The mind that is not baffled is not employed.
The impeded stream is the one that sings.

~Wendell Berry (Collected Poems)

If you are reading this and have lots of money (or fund-raising ability), inspiration, creativity, and community spirit to contribute to the building of this school, let's talk. Until then, I'll keep on envisioning this school, drawing it into existence.

Please feel free to follow or join the expanded conversation on my flickr photostream. There you will see more details on my school.

A winter meal

miso shiru


natto on rice


nori for the natto & rice


steamed kale


takuan (pickles)


tofu with grated daikon, soy sauce, and sprouts


sencha (green tea)

Nolliag Shona Dhuit

Nolliag Shona Dhuit

I got the idea to post this song from a flickr friend who posted it on her photostream. I had fun singing along with Enya and listening to the Irish Gaelic. Reading the lyrics while listening gave me an idea of the letter-sound relationship (grapho-phonetic correspondence for you TESOL/TFL types).

Enjoy!

full moon night

[Kyoko Kumai. Wind from the Cloud Wall Hanging. 1992. Stainless steel wire]

The old man who lives down the street from me had a heart attack. I found out tonight when I was walking with Yuki. We walk by the old man's house almost everyday. Tonight, a younger man came out of the old man's house, walked down the steps and past me and Yuki to the street side mailbox. The man looked at me and said he was picking up mail for the man who lived in that house. I nodded. He asked if I knew which mailbox was the old man's and if I knew which key was the mailbox key. I didn't know, but I held out my hand and he gave me the keys. In seconds, I found the right box and the key that fit it. Sometimes other people can help with the small things when big things like heart attacks happen. I just happened to be there, able to jiggle keys, and open a mailbox. The man picking up the mail may have been a relative. As he took the mail, the man said, "he had a heart attack--at my house; he's in critical care at TMC." I nodded. What could I say? I often saw the old man outside planting or weeding; I live down the street. So, that's what I said. The old man is over 80.

* * * *

By the way, if you read my harrumpff posting a few posts ago, you will see that my blogger header image has reverted to its original appearance. Is this a case of computer magic? Or, perhaps another case of "empty boat(ness)." The empty boat story goes something like this:

It was a calm, clear day on a turquoise lake. A woman was out in the middle of the lake in her row boat, contentedly reading a book while slowly drifting on the the calm waters. After a while, the woman saw what looked like a red leaf way off near the other shore. As the leaf moved a little closer, she saw that it was a red houseboat. It was still quite a distance away, so the woman went back to reading. In a few moments, however, she saw that the houseboat was coming straight towards her boat. She started waving her arms frantically and yelling. Doesn't the captain see her? Why isn't it swerving out of the way? As the houseboat crashed into her smaller boat she was still shouting, but she also saw that there was no human aboard. She had been frantically waving her arms at an empty boat.

clear day

Today I bicycled from my house to epic cafe, enjoying the glorious blue sky and warm sunshine on my face. I've been holed up for the past several days with a head cold, kind of flu-y and fuzzy headed, so being outside felt like a real celebration. I can breath through my left nostril now; a wonderful thing, breathing. Right nostril breathing still to come.

Teapots 10, 11, & 12

My little cha book is filling up.

Teapot no. 10 (210)

Watercolor and sumi brush pen in my handmade cha book.

Teapot no. 11 (211)

Paper cut outs glued into my handmade cha book.

Teapot no. 10 (210)

Green fountain pen ink (that looks aqua on the pink paper) and watercolored yellow spots.

Teapot 12 & 11 together

teapot nos. 8 & 9

Teapot no. 9 (209)
Sumi brush pen and watercolor in my handmade cha book.


Teapot no. 8 (208)
Fountain pen & colored pencil drawn inside my handmade cha book.


8 & 9 together in my handmade cha book.

View my newly started 100 Teapots Set 3.

Shodo 書道 connections

My calligrapher friend, Inso Chung, sent me a selection of his calligraphed bookmarks this week. He does Korean, Japanese, and Chinese brush calligraphy, translating selected poems and phrases into English on the back of each bookmark or card he makes. We first met in Monterey in 1988 when I was a student in the Japanese Studies program at the Monterey Institute of International Studies (MIIS). Inso-san was a Korean teacher at the Defense Language Institute (DLI) in Monterey and would come to the MIIS library, where I worked part-time, to use our Chinese and Japanese reference collection. We'd always greet each other in Japanese, and in time, we shared some of our calligraphy with each other and spoke of Japanese poets.

Years passed and I returned to Monterey and MIIS in 2003 to attend graduate school for TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages). Again, I worked at the MIIS Library part-time and again I met Inso-san and we resumed our friendship as if no time had passed. Inso had retired from the DLI and was selling his brush calligraphy pieces at the Monterey Farmer's Market, among other places. I am inspired by Inso-san's lifelong practice of brush calligraphy and his enjoyment of East-Asian poetry. Inso-san is one of those living gems who keeps the wisdom, poetry, and art of the Chinese, Korean, and Japanese poet-seers alive with each brush stroke.

leaky pen & fancy pen

I am sick today with the flu, mostly staying wrapped up in my Nepalese woolen shawl, in my pajamas, under the covers with the heat turned up, and drinking lots of hot tea. I finally cleaned out my fancy fountain pen, the Waterman one, and it is writing smoothly now. The Waterman doesn't leak like my cheap Shaeffer fountain pen, but it's also not as fun. It's more serious and weighty in my hand.

I want to be well soon. I'm cooking a birthday lunch for a friend on Sunday afternoon.

harrrumpfff

Harrrumpfff.

Blogger changed the sizing of my header picture without notifying me first. I am breathing in and out with this annoyed feeling. Instead of my previous full header image (see below--taken from an acrylic mural I painted), I am left with a fraction of it. I'm annoyed when my computer does things without asking me first. Crashes are one thing. I know of no computer who asks first, they simply crash. But, changing layout elements without asking.... Maybe there's a way to restore the full header image that I haven't learned about yet.

Harrrumpfff!

Using the dark to make light

The lights went out tonight from a rain storm. I lit some votive candles then went for my art box. By candlelight glow, I did some snipping, measuring, and gluing, and a lantern came out. The hinges are made of a manila folder (the same material I used for the covers of my cha book) and the lantern sides are pieces of leftover washi--Japanese paper--with marigold tissue paper that I cut into shapes. There's a turtle, a star, a sun, and a crescent moon.

Extraordinary leaping moments, Batman!

I sit here with a silky black cat stretched across my lap, a white furry dog at my feet, and a cup of hot green tea before me on the table. Sunlight streams through the blinds and I hear a jet flying overhead. It's trash and recycling day today. It's all so ordinary and that's why I love it all.

***

Anything is ordinary.
All special ever is
Is a little different.

~written by my friend Tom from Waltham, MA.

taiko taiko and more taiko

Today I drummed for five hours with Odaiko Sonora at the Tucson Marathon, mile 24.5. The day began early with the set up of the various taiko behind the Basha's in Catalina. The sky had cleared after a few rain stormy days, so we had beautiful sunny dry weather. At around 7:00am, with bachi in hand, we began to roll.

Our task was to cheer on the marathon runners and walkers with our exuberant drumming, smiles, and cheers. Seeing the marathon participants' appreciative smiles as they ran by was really heart-warming. And for me, a beginner with Odaiko Sonora and with taiko, drumming for such a concentrated period of time gave me the opportunity to practice taiko songs, drills, and the jiuchi over and over with my more accomplished senpai. Now I'll have a new store of body memories from which to draw on the next time I play. I noticed today that when I stand and play to the right side of another player, imitating her or him with my gaze toward the left, it is easier to pick up the rhythms and beat than if I'm viewing from my right side. I want to develop my right viewing/learning transfer-ability, too.


I had so much fun the entire day and hardly felt tired at all. I like the challenge of learning how to play taiko by playing taiko, by making mistakes and just keeping on going. The camaraderie is really fun, too. There's a lot of depth to taiko: the history, the drums, the actual playing and voicing, the aesthetics, and being a part of the very wonderful taiko-za, Odaiko Sonora.

teapot no. 6 & 7

Asagohan: breakfast. Watercolor and sumi brush pen in my handmade cha book.


I was all done with this one--I thought--when the brush flew in. Watercolor and sumi brush pen in my handmade cha book.

teapot no. 5

Drawn with red fountain pen ink in my handmade cha book. [click on photo for enlarged view of drawing].

Practicing Right & Mindful Speech

I've been listening to this talk by Roshi Joan Halifax. It's a big topic. What are the implications of Right and Mindful Speech for oneself, in a family system/community, and for social justice?

Roshi gives the four Gatekeepers of Speech:
Is it true?
Is it kind?
Is it beneficial?
Is it necessary?
and she adds, Is it the right time?

What is our intention? Our motivation?

Good questions that I ask myself these days.

The first dude?

If Hillary wins, will Bill be called "the First Gentleman"? I just checked Wikipedia to see what a counterpart term might be to "First Lady." According to Wikipedia, it's "First Gentleman" or "First Consort." I like "First Dude," myself. And though they are not running, I could see a co-presidency consisting of all the present and past members of the group "Sweet Honey in the Rock" plus Alice Walker.

teapot no.4 & a taiko drawing

Teapot no. 4 (my 204th teapot) I drew with Crayola Crayons and a Kaimei sumi brush pen inside my handmade cha book (茶の本).



I drew the taiko drums (the writing of which is one of those redundancies, like saying let's vamos, since taiko actually means drum or drums) at taiko practice on Saturday. Drawing taiko, observing more skillful taiko players playing, and just being around the taiko will surely seep into me, as Basho suggests.

Sunday morning

Drinking puerh tea from little yixing cups in the cool air of morning, wrapped in my red woolen Nepalese shawl. I'm wrapped, not the tea, not the morning. Snug and cozy I am, watching steam rise from the cup. Jesse sits beside me on her woolen shawl which is really one of mine that I folded into a nest for her as I eat my breakfast. I feel the warmth of her furry silky body. Yuki's fur has a slight golden hue to it from the sunlight that filters in through the open blinds where he lays. He patiently waits for me to take him walking--and I will--after I finish my breakfast and do my stretches.

For the past few mornings after I wake up and eat, I've been doing a set of ten mindfulness movement exercises taught by Thich Nhat Hanh and his monks & nuns. I drew pictures (below) of each exercise and tacked them to my wall as a guide until they become "second nature" again. Hmmm, I wonder what first nature would be? Not doing exercises, probably...

In Monterey/Pacific Grove when I was acting as the faciltator for a weekly mindfulness meditation group, I was in charge of leading the exercises at the end of our meditation session. I had to count out loud and say, "breathing in, breathing out" during the appropriate stretches so that we'd all be moving and breathing in unison, more or less. My body remembers the movements. And I have memories of the friends with whom I meditated, breathed, smiled, stretched, and hugged. We always did hugging meditation after completing the mindfulness movements. In hugging meditation, the aim is to be fully present as we hug each other. We breathe mindfully in and out as we enjoy deep and simple touch.





P.S. the yummy breakfast you see above was my version of kayu, Japanese/Chinese rice "gruel." This time, the kayu consisted of brown rice, cabbage, kabocha squash, yellow onion, wakame, carrot, a few sesame seeds, shiitake, tofu, shoyu, miso, a few drops of sesame oil, and green onions.

Pan galactic, interstellar, fibrous wonder that paper is day.

If you click on these images to enlarge them, you can almost feel the texture in the visible fibers of this handmade Sri Lankan paper. Touch with your eyes, see with your fingers, taste with your ears... Reminds me of what we did when I practiced the art of kodo in Japan (kodo 香道 is "the way of incense," or "incense ceremony"). In kodo, we "listen" to the incense rather than "smelling" it.

Similarly, the Scottish percussionist Evelyn Glennie listens and makes music in a non ordinary way.