Return to the Garden

I don’t remember exactly how old I was–somewhere between the age where I was old enough to remember and understand but not too old to have lost my sense of wonder and amazement–my family went on a vacation to Carlsbad Caverns National Park.

The day we visited we took the tour which started at the natural entrance to the cave. It was like walking into the maw of giant beast. I remember my mom not being too keen on this, she not being the most adventuresome of spirits, but my dad and I loved it. How could we have resisted the lure of a labyrinth of caverns with names like The Hall of the Giants, The Temple of the Sun, and the Queen’s Chamber. How could we have not be enticed by a malachite-colored pool called the Green Lake and watching sleeping bats hang from the ceiling. (There is even a place in the caverns called The Rookery, which should resonate with my SFC writing buddies.)

When we finally reached the lowest point of the known portion of the caverns (the caverns are still being explored even to this day), the tour guide wanted us to experience first hand the total absence of light. Even though she turned out the lights for probably less than 30 seconds, I became anxious and I grabbed on to my mom’s hand for comfort. To this day, I can still “feel” the blackness. It had form and shape and oozed over me like some creature from the depths. I felt like I was suffocating. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it another second, the tour guide flipped the lights back on. We finished our tour with a picnic lunch in the caverns and a ride up an elevator to the surface.

What is my point in telling you this story? I haven’t thought about this trip in decades, but just yesterday the memory of it percolated to my consciousness when one of my online writing colleagues offered this prompt about descending into The Tholos, an ancient building in Greece, a place with restorative power. At the time, my descent into the darkness of the Caverns was simply a vacation experience; today I draw upon it for lessons in coping with the dark times that descend from time-to-time.

There is a need to go into the darkness so we can experience the beautiful and awesome things that reside just below the surface. We need to experience the Darkness so we can better appecreciate the Light. When we go through dark times, we can experience the blessing of reaching out and taking another’s hand to guide and comfort us. If you are going through a dark time now, know that always, ALWAYS, the light will come back on.

It is the way of things.

Lori G. (c) 2008

Cavern Lake

The Rookery 

Images by Peter Jones through the courtesy of the US National Park Service. 

The second day of the meditation workshop started with a review of the points we learned last week and everyone was given a chance to speak about their meditation practice during the week. I explained that I had made a meditation space of found objects in my home: a tea light in a cobalt blue glass container, placed on a mat in the middle of my coffee table. I also explained that I used a bead bracelet as a breath-counting device. I managed several 10 minute meditations during the week.

Then instructor then gave a brief overview of the tenets and practices of Buddhism: The Four Noble Truths and the Eight-Fold Path with emphasis on the practice of meditation. She explained that Buddhist meditation is used to cultivate mindfulness; that is, an awareness of the body, the emotions, and our thoughts, and to discover the relationship between what we think and what we experience. A couple of examples of Buddhist meditation practices include Vipassana, from India, a technique that watches and categorizes thoughts, and Zen, from China and Japan, which incorporates ritual acts into the meditation practice.

Our first exercise of the day involved both a moving meditation in the center’s garden followed by a sitting meditation in the chapel where we would employ the Buddhist Vipassana technique of categorizing thoughts.

The instructor demonstrated how to do a walking meditation which requires a slow and exaggerated heel-ball-toe stepping motion. We formed a line and followed her out the door into the terraced meditation garden. It took me a moment to get the foot movement established and I realized it was not that much different from the movements I had been taught by my tai chi master. It proved to be a little more difficult to walk when we stepped off the path onto gravel. I focused my attention on exhaling with each downward step and visualizing my energy going down through each foot to connect with the center of the earth. In that way, I was able to feel balanced and stable on the shifting gravel.

I want to note that in the center of the garden is a statue of the nine muses of Greek mythology. As we walked we circled around this statue. This is personally significant to me because I am part of an online writing group that frequently utilizes the motif of the muses to inform our conversations about writing and creativity. I felt that my undergoing studies in meditation practices was being validated by the creative force of the universe.

After about 10 minutes of walking, the instructor lead us into the chapel where we did a sitting meditation. As I sat there looking at the stained glass window, I noticed my thoughts being directed forward into the future. I started asking myself questions. What will I do with this meditation practice? Which technique will work for me? Can I adhere to a disciplined life of meditation? What should I have for lunch?   This is an example of categorizing thoughts.  Some people dwell on the past or the present.

The exercise ended when the instructor rang some chimes and we broke for a short break. I spent the break journaling about my experience and reviewing some of the texts she had brought for us to look at. When we reconvened she began the section on Christian meditation.

The first item she covered was the text, “The Way of the Pilgrim,” written by an unknown Russian man in the mid 19th century. In brief, the text explains the use of the Jesus Prayer as a mantra coordinated with the breath during meditation. The Jesus Prayer has several variations from the complex: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner,” to the most minimalist version, “Jesus, Mercy.” The instructor started us on a 10 minute meditation using this prayer in silent recitation. I have to admit that I found it very hard to use this prayer as a mantra as my mind wanted to dwell on the meaning of the words in the prayer.

Next the instructor gave us a brief overview of the practices of Lectio Divina, which means “Divine Reading.” Basically, this is a rumination on the bit of text with the goal of the reader becoming absorbed into the text and experiencing the divine presence. The instructor provided us with the text of the St. Francis prayer. I chose to meditate on the first line, “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.” We were instructed to use any of the techniques taught to us. Most of the workshop participants chose to sit in the chapel, some in the garden, and a couple, including myself, chose a moving meditation. I started by walking through the garden and then doing a standing meditation in a manner that I had learned from my tai chi master. I began by silently reciting the first line of the prayer over and over. After a few minutes, my mind was directed to a situation in my life where I was not being an instrument of peace. This lead me to make a resolution concerning my actions in this situation.

After the instructor ended the exercise, we had an opportunity to discuss the experience. I can’t say that during this particular exercise that I achieved a sense of the Divine Presence but I can see the potential of this happening after some practice.

We wrapped up our time together by discussing what we wanted to do with the techniques we had learned. The instructor suggested that we find a trusted person who can act as a “spiritual director” to guide us as we practice our meditation.

I left the workshop with a lot of questions to research and a new desire to re-tool my spiritual practice to include a quiet time for meditation.

Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.

Text and images:  Lori G. (c) 2008

Back in the early 90’s I began studying Tai Chi Chuan and Qi Gong and did so for several years. As a result of these moving meditations, I did pick up the basics of meditative breathing and mindfulness. Over the years I have fallen away from the practice and am on the verge of forgetting the Form altogether. Wanting to regain some of the meditative benefits, I enrolled in an introductory meditation workshop. Maybe I will be more disciplined in sitting meditation rather than a moving one.

The first session was this past Saturday. It took place in a lovely meditation center complete with a chapel and an outdoor garden. The instructor is a certified yoga teacher and spiritual director. The first meeting involved yoga meditation and next week we will explore Christian and Buddhist meditative practices. The workshops will provide an overview of meditation, a smorgasbord of meditation techniques from which the participants will sample.

After introductions by the instructor and students, we engaged in a ten minute meditation, eyes closed, focusing on the inhale and exhale of breath. We were instructed to let intruding thoughts drift by, as if they were boats on a river. However, I struggled with this and quite frankly I actually visualized myself getting on the boat and drifting all the way down the river to the sea. Also, I felt a great deal of tension in my jaw, neck, arms and chest. This was not going to be as easy as I thought; however, I am pleased to say that after a few minutes, I did reach a certain level of calm awareness.

We spent the next segment learning about the Eight-Limbs of Yoga as articulated by a yoga master named Pantanjali. I learned from this that there is a coherent philosophy behind yoga meditation that is not uncommon to western practices of prayer and contemplation.

The next exercise involved a 30 minute composite of techniques, starting with counting breaths, alternating breaths through each nostril, and inhaling with a rolled tongue (“sitali,” or “straw breath”). We were then sent away either to sit in the garden or in the chapel and focus our eyes on an object near us. I went inside the chapel and chose the reflection of colored light from a stained glass window on the wooden floor. I found it difficult to keep my eyes open. They felt heavy as if I were falling asleep and I fought to keep from dozing off. I did notice after a few minutes of observing the light patterns on the floor that the markings of the wood grain seemed to become clearer and actually separate from the floor, creating an almost three-dimensional affect. Our instructor ended this segment with the ringing of a chime which seemed inordinately loud to me.

After taking a short break to partake of snacks of tangerines and almonds brought by the instructor, we reconvened and reviewed what had taken place. The instructor also handed out some articles from yoga journals and we looked over those as well.

For our final meditation exercise of the day, we engaged in 20 minutes of gazing at lit candles in the chapel. The instructor also asked each of us to think of a word or phrase that had meaning to us and to repeat it over and over in our minds as we inhaled and exhaled. At first I tried sitting on a meditation cushion but this put too much strain on my lower back so I moved to a chair. Once again, I had trouble keeping my eyes open and focused on the flame. My guess is that I will be meditating with my eyes shut most of the time.

After this exercise we had a short time of review and were assigned homework. By next week, we are to create our own meditation space, read the articles, and engage in at least 10 minutes of meditation three or four times this week experimenting with the techniques we were taught. Next Saturday’s session will deal with Buddhist meditation and Christian meditation, specifically the “Lectio Divina.”

I left the class feeling physically tired and bit light-headed. Additionally, I have to admit that I was a bit irritable for the rest of the day and today as well. At first I was a bit puzzled by this. I expected to leave feeling calm and serene. Then I recalled with the instructor had said at the start of the class—that the purpose of meditation is not to become more relaxed, although this is a side effect. The main purpose of meditation is to see reality more clearly. It is to remove “the gunk” as she put it, ‘and lift the veil” so we can see our lives with clarity.

I have to admit, in spite of the emotional “gunk” coming to the surface, I am looking forward to this new adventure in meditation.

Text and Image: Lori G. (c) 2008

I went to see my acupuncturist Saturday. I haven’t been sleeping well and usually a treatment by him will do the trick to alleviate this condition. The first thing he asked me was if I were under stress. We talked about that for a while and I explained that I had encountered some people this week that just seemed to hurl their negative energy at me while draining me of my own. He replied, “You need to be transparent and just let their energy flow through you.”

I’m not surprised that he would tell me this. There is a concept in Taoist thinking called wu wei. Basically, it is a state of being active through inaction. It is bringing change through non-resistance. In this case I would take the action to deal with my internal stress by being inactive towards those who are inflicting their negative selves onto me. This notion of non-resistance is not limited to Taoist thinking. What comes to my mind is that classic teaching from the Sermon of the Mount where Jesus tells his followers to not resist an evil person and to turn the other cheek.

As usual, a concept like this grinds against the grain of my essential personality. Those who know me know that I tend to respond to provocation especially when I feel like I am being treated like a door mat or personal punching bag. So this will be a little experiment for me in energy mastery. I’ll keep you posted in how transparent I become and how successful I am in letting bad energy flow through me.

I told a friend about this conversation and how I basically need to become a piece of glass. He said that I was not a mere glass, but a piece of fine crystal. I appreciate that. I just hope I don’t crack and shatter in the process.

Lori G. (c) 2008

I have found this video meditation quite relaxing.  Enjoy:

Courtesy of YouTube.

It’s the New Year. The day after Christmas I got sick and haven’t been well since. I slept through New Year’s Eve and most of New Year’s Day. I’m not exactly in a celebratory mood. In fact, I’m downright cranky.

That being said, I hope no one is offended when I say I think that reviewing 2007 experiences and announcing 2008 resolutions are a stupid waste of time. I mean, really, if we know there’s something we should be doing, let’s stop talking about it and just do it.  At the risk of being pessimistic and cynical, let’s face it: we’re probably all going to blow those resolutions by the end of next week anyway.

Right now, I’m just trying to get through one day at a time. Today, I am eating right.  Today, I recycled something from the garbage. Today, I am being creative by writing this post.

Notice the use of the present tense and not future. I know myself too well and it would be presumptuous to think that I will do the same thing tomorrow.

The best advice I can give myself, and anyone else who cares what I think, is to not be overly concerned for anything beyond today. Tomorrow, we’ll all have another opportunity to do and live right.

And tomorrow will take care of itself.  I’m going back to bed now.  Have a good day.

Lori G. (c) 2008

The Palos Verdes Peninsula is a rocky outcropping that marks the southwestern edge the Los Angeles basin. Rising from this urban plain, the peninsula pushes into the Santa Monica Bay. Twenty-six miles to the west is Santa Catalina Island, one of several that comprise the Channel Islands chain. Every winter 20,000 California gray whales make their annual voyage from the frigid waters of the Gulf of Alaska down the west coast of North America to the warm lagoons of Baja California in Mexico. The pregnant females will give birth and nurse their calves until they are big enough to accompany the adults back to Alaska by the end of May. The route these great animals will take passes between the peninsula and the Channel Islands. Captains of whale watching boats make a good living escorting scores of people into the bay to seek out and snap pictures of the mothers and their young.

Near the lighthouse at Point Vicente, there is an interpretive center providing a natural history of the peninsula and the sealife that dwells in bay. After driving by the center many times, a couple of days ago I decided to stop to take a look for myself.

After I exploring the center’s exhibits, I went out on the observation deck. Four people were on the deck, each sitting in high-standing deck chairs which they had brought along. Being December, it was very cold and windy and these four were bundled up in parkas and gloves. Each held high-powered binoculars. They were silent, each scanning the sea with their glasses. They were definitely prepared and looked as if they had done this many times before.

“Excuse me. Do you see any whales?” I asked.

One of the four, a woman, put her glasses down and said. “Not yet. But they’re out there. They’re out there.”

She fell silent again. She put her binoculars in her lap and just stared at the sea.

It struck me that they seem as if they were in some sort of meditative state. And why not? They were in a sunny place, staring at a scene of unparalleled beauty, listening to only the sound of the surf on the rocks below the bluff. I could not imagine a place more tranquil.

They did not seem fazed that they could see no whales. In fact, if they saw none today, I don’t think they would be disappointed. Just sitting, as if waiting for some royal personage to make an appearance, was enough. If they did see a whale, it would be as if they touched the face of the Divine. If not, still, they would not go home empty.

They were in a chapel built of sky, wind and sea. And like the whales, the Divine was out there, waiting to be experienced.

Text and Images: Lori G. © 2007

This is the Korean Friendship Bell, a 7-ton cast bronze bell, given to the US by the Republic of Korea at the time of the U.S. Bicentennial, to honor Korean War Veterans and the friendship between  our two countries. (You can read about the details of the structure’s design and construction here. ).

The structure is beautifully situated on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. This place is another one of those little gems (which we all have in our respective communities) that both calms and invigorates me whenever I am there. The day I took these pictures was cold and extraordinarily clear, and the structure sparkled under a blinding white sun. The only sounds were the flapping of pigeon’s wings and the distant sound of children playing. It was like stepping out of time to a place of absolute stillness.

The park is adjacent to a military installation, and, in fact, if you look down the bluff, you will see the ruins of WWII battlements. It is quite ironic, actually. But it is a physical reminder to me that one CAN find peace and tranquility, even when surrounded by signs of conflict and war. Amazing, really.

Let me just end this by showing you some more images. May you find peace and tranquility as you meditate on these images.

Lori G. (c) 2007

For many years I kept a journal until I bored myself silly with all my whining and complaining. So I stopped for a while. But the urge caught up with me again so I started up. This time I try not to complain about my life but use my writing to analyze my thinking and gain insight. Writing about your dreams is one to accomplish this.

Keep your journal near your bed. Often times we think we have not dreamed when actually we have. Many times we wake up from a dream and then go back to sleep, thus totally forgetting the dream in the morning. The next time you wake up from a dream, grab your journal and just jot down a few words that will jar your memory later. Go back to sleep. The next morning try to write about your dream in your journal using your notes. Quite often the meanings of the dreams suddenly make themselves evident as you write, but if not, come back to the journal entry a couple of days later and see if you have more insight into the dream’s meaning. Many times anxiety over a waking problem will manifest in a dream and frequently solutions to that problem will also emerge in a dream. By writing about these dreams, we may be able to discern the proper course of action or at the very least gain some knowledge about and mastery over the anxiety.

Sweet dreams………….

Lori G. © 2007.

I’ve been carrying a heavy burden for quite awhile. I can only identify it as an anxious fear of the future. Instinctively, I know I shouldn’t indulge this feeling. Yet, it is there, a vaporous entity that wraps itself around me digging its invisible claws into my spirit. I won’t go into detail about the things that I fear—let’s just say they are circumstances that we all fear at one time or another. But for me, this fear has mounted to a point that it is becoming debilitating. I’ve got to do something about it.

Today is Thanksgiving Day in my neck of the woods and while I am preparing my portion of the meal that I will share later today with other family members, I am taking some time to do some personal reflection.

What keeps coming to mind is the ancient saying that there is no fear in love. I had to say it again and again to myself: there is no fear in love. I sat back for a moment and took a mental inventory of the love that is in my life. There are some people in my life I know love me. I try very hard to love myself. But this love is transitory. People move on. Sometimes I don’t love myself.

But then it struck me that there is a love that is does not move on, that is unfailing. This is the love that the Universe pours out on me. That love is constant. It never wavers. It never depends on my feelings. It is outside me, beyond me, holding me up, permeating my being.

The trick is, however, letting this idea of a constant love permeate me as a fact, NOT as something I feel. I am not always going to feel that love, but if I have it grounded into my mind as a cognitive fact, then I can rely on that love. Many people place their reality squarely on the back of their feelings. This is perilous. Feelings change, feelings waver. Knowledge does not. If I base my reality securely on the knowledge that the divine power of the universe will not let me down, then the paralyzing grip of fear is released and I am free.

So on this Thanksgiving Day, I claim that love as a fact of life.  And for that knowledge, I am profoundly grateful.

May you also know this Love today and always.

Lori G. © 2007