A New Year Resolution: Be Bold

Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back ... Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth ... the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one ... all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance ... Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.
                                                Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

This quote lay on my desk today as I sunk into my TCC practice. Perfect, I thought, there's no better way to start 2010 than with this invitation and reminder.

Certainly this blog and my daily TCC practice began as a dream that metamorphosed into reality. I didn't know what to expect, how to proceed or, even, if I was capable of following through with this daily commitment. Now, five weeks later, I find the shape of my life shifting and transforming. I don't know yet where I'm headed but ... the journey is begun. I'm excited and inspired by the life I'm creating.

Take today for instance. I woke exhausted after eight days of travel and new experiences. I delayed my TCC practice knowing there was much to do to prepare for Frances' afternoon massage client. Finally, while Frances vacuumed, I disappeared into my office, shut the door, and began to move.

Almost immediately I felt better. My energy improved. My mood lifted. The trees waved their branches and leaves to welcome me home (okay, perhaps it was the wind ...).

For me, this "Rooted in Earth, Suspended from Sky" practice and blog teaches me to let go and trust. I never know how my practice will proceed. I certainly don't know what I'll write. All that I focus on is this: each day--every day--I will move and write. That commitment and responsibility is a gift I give myself and somehow, inexplicably, it feeds and waters my soul.

Urbanity

My three day visit in Minneapolis post-Baltimore left me without computer access due to unresolved "cookie functionality" issues on my friend Sue's laptop. Consequently I'll recap my daily t'ai chi chih practices based on handwritten notes from my journal.

Monday, December 28, 2009:

I'm back in Minnesota, the land of plenty: plenty of clouds, plenty of snow, plenty of cold temperatures. I'm staying with Sue, my friend and long-ago college roommate. This morning Sue's cat, Henry, joined me in my t'ai chi chih practice. He rubbed against my legs, turned, then rubbed back in the opposite direction. Again ... and again ... and again.

It felt wonderful to have cat energy as part of my practice. I imagined that soon--unable to capture my attention--he'd cease his intervention. Sure enough, by the end of Around the Platter he leapt onto a nearby card table and reclined.

Snow surrounds me in every direction as I move softly. I feel grateful for this practice that gets me up and moving each day. Though I awoke with a headache--spent after an overlong day of travel and dramatically different climate--the promise of TCC pulled me from bed and into my quiet practice time....

Tuesday, December 29, 2009:

Henry, the cat, joined me after I'd begun my practice this morning. There's no better way to bring attention down to your lower legs and into your feet than by practicing with a cat. The constant rubbing and purring plus my added concern that a paw or whisker could end up trapped beneath rising or falling toes and heels led me to greater care and attention as my weight shifted forward and back.

I began practice at 5:20 am. Darkness circled 'round me but for one brightly shining street light. Softly I followed the flow of my movements as they reflected back to me from a darkened window.

Now that I've lived in the woods for seven years I'm struck by the sensory overload that is a part of city life ... everything you desire lies within blocks or miles from you though much of it is readily available in your own home. There are too many sights, sounds, smells; too much tactile information for me to process.

"Keep it simple," advises Alcoholics Anonymous. I now understand the importance of that basic tenet. In today's practice I turn it down a notch. I rise, fall, glide, and flow slowly, calmly ... I embrace simplicity.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009:

I admit ... lots of thoughts rush through my head during today's practice. Henry isn't there to brush against my legs and warm my heart. I found him nestled on the back of a chair when I got out of bed this morning. After several minutes of stroking and sweet-talking I started my practice. Henry stayed in his nest.

Today I'm homeward bound. I'm anxious to be back in the peaceful woods. Thoughts of last year's travels in Central America during this time of year plus this year's travels in American cities made me realize how much--too much--we Americans have in our lives. It's never enough, it seems. I can't wait to return to my home where nature and quiet, sunrises and new moons, honking geese and twittering birds are enough.

I bought myself a refrigerator magnet in a bookstore in Baltimore. It's a reminder:

peace. it does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. it means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.

Yes, my TCC practice helps me to feel the peace, to be peace in the rush and rumble of city life. But this is not where I want to stay. I like my life in the middle of the woods. It's simple, quiet, low-key ... and it fills me full.

Tide Point

Today's practice in darkness was illuminated by the lights of Baltimore. Tide Point flashed out in large white letters across the bay, Bond Street Market flowed down the outside of a building kitty-corner across the intersection. Street lights illumined now-dry cobblestones where yesterday it was rainy and damp, the day before, snowy. Business, shoreline, and marine lights reflected off the surface of the water.

As a temporary visiting city dweller I turn on no lights in the room where I practice. Still, I see well enough--due to abundant outdoor lighting--to balance and move. The water's surface ... smooth but for a constant slight ripple.

My thoughts and memories are like those watery ripples. I remind myself to sink into my roots, to rest in my center, to release my mind's flickers and fanciful flights. As Justin Stone reminds us (paraphrased): "Do not be tossed by the waves on the surface of the water. Focus instead on the shoreline. Be as still as the horizon."

Another Day Begun

Today's practice, amid falling rain and a foggy harbor, produced memories from Christmas past. I thought of my parents who have not walked this Earth path with me for a number of years. I missed their presence and felt sad for being without them. And ... I let the sadness flow and go.

The peace and quiet of these morning practices is full ... of energy, rejuvenation, quiet contemplation. Fascination for the natural world around me. Gratitude for where I am and who I have here with me. This morning my practice companions are soaring seagulls, a couple walking three huge dogs, and the patter of rain on cobblestone streets below me.

I practiced in my sister's livingroom today with the same beautiful view of the harbor before me. As I stood quieting myself before practice I watched two tugs move toward me in the darkness. They resembled Christmas trees floating across the harbor, huge in girth, decorated with lights.

Throughout my practice I soaked in peace from the still world around me. I relished my privacy ... the quiet time. Eventually I heard Bertie Wooster (my sister's dove) call from the other room as I exhaled healing sounds to a quiet apartment.

The day is begun....

Peace and good will to all ...

Christmas Day 2009 is quiet here on the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. During my 7:15 am practice two cars passed beneath my window, one woman walked her dog, and a small group of seagulls circled squealing before me.

Bertie Wooster, the dove, was my practice partner. She watched from her cage beside me and made helpful comments throughout the form. If I could play a recording of her song on this blog it would sound something like this: bup butttadoo, bup buttadoo (sorry, that's the best I can do in terms of an aural representation). You need to be here.

The sky, stuffed to overflowing with clouds, was lit by street lights and a few glowing lights on a large ship across the bay. It's quiet. Barely a soul moving. On a day like today I can rest in the peace and quiet of the movements with no effort. Peace IS possible now.

Bertie Flaps Her Wings

Had a great practice at the Minneapols-St. Paul airport yesterday (Dec. 23) as I awaited my flight for Baltimore. Lots of energy circled/cycled around me from walkers, gate-waiters, cell phone conversationalists, and the airport tram passing right outside the window I faced. Unending traffic, traffic, traffic entered the airport to drop off and pick up passengers as I moved, s-l-o-w-l-y.

I haven't practiced in such a public place for years. It tooks me a few minutes to establish focus even though I turned my back to the people moving behind me and placed my attention toward the movement outside "my" window.

A brief loss of balance near the end of Rocking Motion and another sideways swerve as I watched the tram outside were my main distractions. Amazingly, it was easy to focus and relax/recharge.

Today (Dec. 24) I practiced inside my sister's apartment right on the Inner Harbor in downtown Baltimore. Her apartment is one block from the water and faces directly onto the waterfront so my practice was washed with sunshine. Sun streamed through the windows and reflected off the water in the harbor. I was struck by the beauty of nature, even within the boundaries of a large city.

Berty Wooster, the dove, watched my entire practice from her perch in the bird cage. She eyed me with interest and eventually returned to her own activity ... grooming.

It was wonderful to practice in the sun's light and warmth (an unusual occurrence in Bayfield this time of year). My sister's at work, my brother is putting together a plant stand in the other room, and me ... I'm flowing with the chi.

I'm glad to have this regular practice as all else around me changes and fluxes during this trip.

Blue Lake, Blue Skies, Blue Highway

A wonderful sunny midday practice today, temps almost 20. Lake Superior's not yet iced over; I kept my eyes focused on distant brilliant blue water as I moved.

Tomorrow I leave for Baltimore, MD to spend Christmas with my sister and one brother. The East Coast was just slammed with a huge winter storm. The Midwest will likely receive its own winter storm starting late tomorrow. With luck I'll be off the tarmac at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport before heavy snow hits.

I plan to continue my daily t'ai chi chih practice during my travels. Afterall, the only thing I have to bring along is myself. I'm unsure whether I'll blog since my only link to the information superhighway is a desktop computer. I have no cell phone, no iPhone, no Blackberry, and no laptop computer which means that I'll rely on other people's technology or wait until I return home to resume entries on Rooted in Earth, Suspended from Sky.

Never fear. My leather-bound journal will travel with me. I'll keep up my blog the old fashioned way ... by hand. Until December 30, then, ...

May you all have wonderful, energy-filled practices as you spend time over the holidays with those you love.
Peace....