These cold, windy, snowy days drive me deliciously inward. I wish i could have hours, days, alone in my office to catch up—finally—to write, to sit, to sort, to dream. Instead I grab moments of quiet as I can: in the shower, in yoga class, on a walk. Lately I have been really enjoying our little Lyons library, my somewhat urban equivalent of a cave. I went there on Saturday with both kids, but Oriah soon melted down and had to be taken home by Daddy. So that left me and Jordan, book lovers, together sitting at a table, he reading his Calvin and Hobbes and me reading the latest copy of The Sun. It was a wonderful feeling to share this love of reading with Jordan, to not even have to explain to him how magical it is to be lost in a world of words.
I like reading The Sun, and used to subscribe to it a a decade or so ago. Just being quiet, open, no where to go, reading for the pure pleasure of it, letting the right words find me.
I came across these passages, that in my state of heightened receptivity felt electric and true.
I discovered this excerpt from an essay by Henry Miller, which is very apropos receptivity.
“Because the strange thing is that just doing nothing, just taking it easy, loafing, meditating, things tend to right themselves.”
I grinned at this observation by Sparrow, which she wrote in The Winter of My Discontent.
After several years of living in Phoenicia, I began to wave at every car–because every driver was waving at me. People in the deep country wave at everyone. It’s the rural-U.S. version of a Buddhist practice: “I honor each being that passes.” ”
I always wondered why on my walks in Lyons every one tips their hand ever so slightly, or nods their head–this compulsion every one has who drives by to acknowledge my presence. But now I do see it as unwittingly buddhist, or unfailingly human, this honoring of whatever is arising.
And I love how the act of writing transforms these small, insignificant moments into epiphanies—moments of coiled revelation. From now on I will always think of this simple, friendly, all-American wave as my Buddhist practice, my Hindu namaste.
What is passing through you now that you can honor, dark or light? What calls out for acceptance?