"We can never be born enough."

E.E. Cummings stands among the ranks of great teachers in my life. I first discovered him as a student, and I became downright enamored with him when, as a high school junior, I faced the challenge of making meaning of one of his crazily enigmatic poems and was finally able to unlock it. I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud while tucked away in the stacks of the public library at the moment I "got it". This launched me on a love affair of sorts, and in college I thumbed and marked up the pages of his Complete Works until the binding broke. I finally decided to invest in a second copy after I began losing pages despite the rubber bands.

Although I enjoyed the puzzles and his playful approach to syntax and typography, that wasn't what held me over time; no, it was his way of seeing the world, his joie de vivre, his elixir of wise wonderment.

I look back and realize that his Complete Works is also what launched me into the habit of daily readings, and though it might seem obvious, only now do I see that this is a practice that keeps me connected to my spiritual foundation. I need this. Otherwise, it is easy for me to become untethered, distracted, borne up on the waves of busyness. 

And that leads me to give a shout out to another guru in my life, my colleague Steven Levy. I have the great pleasure of partnering with Steven as he plans a series of sessions on "renewal" for several school leaders in our network this summer. Renewal is a topic on which Steven is passionate and a model of good practice. After batting around some ideas with him, I sent him a link to one of those ubiquitous lists you find on the internet with 5 or 50 or 500 ways to take care of oneself. He replied: 

I don't think it is a lack of ideas that is keeping most of us from finding rest. There is much deeper mindset, very much rooted in this culture, that needs to be examined before the list would have any chance of taking root. I do believe there is something in each of us that already knows this, and we need to find a way to help people get back in touch with that inner voice, light, compass, true self, spirit, whatever you want to call it. If that true voice leads to something on the list, it has a chance of being effective. Without that foundation, any technique has very little chance of escaping the strong currents of our cultural sea. 

Look at that gift: a colleague so rooted in his "whatever you want to call it" that he had no trouble seeing through the surface-level list and cutting right to essence; a friend firm in his foundation because of his devotion to practice. Steven practices tuning in regularly and consciously, and because of this, he exudes the same kind of zest and delight I first discovered in E.E. Cummings.

At our most recent yoga teacher training weekend, we discussed the term "dharma", since it is repeatedly used in the sacred Hindu text the Bhagavad Gita, which we had just finished reading. The term brought up all sorts of angst. There is no straightforward definition for dharma, but that night, it was loosely defined as one's "true path" in life. Several people felt stressed about dharma as a perceived expectation that they should be able to discover and pursue their purpose in life.

I've pondered the term a lot since our last gathering, and I have realized that instead of thinking of dharma as a singular purpose/path, I resonate much more with the idea of it as a life-long series of check-ins with oneself - taking time to reflect, listen, and bend toward "right action" rather than being disconnected, distracted, numbed, or so busy that we lose our ability to hear and tap into the delight that can permeate our existence. 

Readings provide a form of renewal for me; they are a tool that helps me check my footing on the dharmic path, a reminder to wake up again and again.

We can never be born enough. We are human beings; for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery,the mystery of growing: the mystery which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves.

 -E.E. Cummings 

Making Room for Joy

 

I am a week behind, but nevertheless I am delighted to report that this stretch of time has mostly been about living in JOY. Silly as it may sound, this does take practice. I find I am pretty conditioned to notice what's not quite right, what I wish were a little different...the classic story of a parent questioning, "What happened here?" with the one lower grade on a report card full of high grades.

I attended a conference for work last week, and I found myself engaged in all kinds of conversations: with people I love and don't get to see often, people new to me whose insights and perspectives moved me, and people who are experts in their fields - researchers, authors, speakers whom I would never usually have the chance to connect with. I felt unusually open, able to both listen deeply and ask questions that have been puzzling me. And because I felt open instead of withdrawn, these conversations were filled with joy. Because I wasn't afraid to show my ignorance and confusion (well, I was a little afraid, but I just noticed it and didn't let it stop me), I was better able to learn from these experts and drink in their words. When I let go of "looking smart", my passion was able to shine brighter through my genuine questions.

Also, though generally friendly, I don't usually open conversations with those around me. I'll greet my seat mate on an airplane, then stick my nose in a book. At the closing reception of this conference, however, I found myself standing in line at the bar surrounded by new faces. I struck up with the guy behind me, only to discover that he lives in Colorado, works at a school I'm familiar with, plays the banjo, and had just met a good friend of mine back in his home town. Five or six or seven connections later, we finally just smiled at each other with appreciation, gave genuine thanks, and went off happier.

Re-entering a normal work week, I find that the openness to joy has remained. I am in an intense period new learning (again), but instead of feeling overwhelmed, I am allowing myself to be smitten with it.

Meanwhile, Bruce is building a long-awaited new studio, and as a side benefit, we are organizing and moving other things. He kindly cleared out the "bunk house", a little room off of our outdoor patio that we were just using as a storage space, and we GOT BUSY - cleaning, painting, caulking, fixing, laying flooring, painting some more...and now we have our very own intimate yoga room, freshly dubbed "The Love Shack". Yup, making room for joy and inviting it in.