A political path to inner peace

One of my favorite mantras since returning from Bhutan is "breathing is awesome!"  Some of you have heard me say it aloud, and it's certainly made appearances in this blog.  No, it may not be a traditional mantra (along the lines of omni mani padme hom or "honor the jewel of the lotus"), but I think the reminder is just as important. It's just this: the breath is always there.  You don't have to pay for it, you hardly have to exert any additional energy to capture it, and it is instantly effective.  I wish I could say the same things for my other favorite stress relievers...wine, chocolate, yoga.   Not so much. But the breath is your silent, ever present friend.  It does not leave you in times of stress or sadness.  But it is an underestimated, undervalued, often-ignored friend.  Poor guy.  When was the last time you took a deep breath?  Do it right now.  Doesn't that feel awesome?  Now give yourself a high-five for a...

Today is the first Saturday in a looong while that I've been in DC.  Which means it's also the first Saturday in awhile that I've been able to attend my favorite yoga class, taught by my favorite teacher (aside from my sister, of course). So, I'm in class this morning, feeling extremely grateful and pleased with myself for making it there in the first place, and for creating this space in my life to reflect and take care of my body.  It is no small feat these days, let me tell you. After a series of rapid vinyasas, I'm hoping that my audible breathing is more an indication of my mastery of Ujjayi breath rather than being out of practice.  Then Faith (our teacher) invites us to move from warrior three (balancing on one leg with the other extending out behind you) to eagle pose.  Oh god.  Cue unyogalike dread.  Eagle pose is not my friend, insofar as poses go.  It involves balancing on one foot while wrapping the other leg around the calf, and also...

Yes, my happiness-level of late has been markedly other-worldly.  But I still struggle with remnants of my pre-Bhutan life.  Which is why I was particularly delighted when a new practice came to me today during yoga class.  I will hereby call it the “ Practice for dispelling disappointment/frustration/attachment and moving forward into your own awesomeness ” Breathing in through the nose, while thinking of subject of disappointment/frustration/attachment : “I love you.” Breathing out through the nose : “I release you.” (Repeat) Breathing in through the nose, while thinking of yourself : “I love me. “ Breathing out through the nose : “I release you.” (Repeat ad infinitum) Breathing is awesome!

I have six unretrieved voicemails on my phone.  This is a new thing for me.  Not that friends didn't leave messages before--they left plenty.  The perplexing development is my comfort at letting the voicemails sit, unlistened to, with the glaring red '6' staring up from my phone.  Is this a minute consequence of my new spiritual self?  As If I am saying, "Hi, Six.  I am fine with your existence, and no, I don't need to diminish you in order to return to the natural balance of zero voicemails." Hmmm. *** Sitting on the floor in front of present Buddha, right ankle over left knee (mine not his), I tapped into something.  I didn't mean to; I was pretty new to this, after all.  But that's how meditation works--once you resign yourself to non-intention, the intention arrives.  And so it did: one phrase at a time, floating into my head.  I can still feel them sailing in, words strung together with the urgency of desperate need and the calm...

One month ago, I set forth on a journey of which the depth would far exceed the length. I returned ten days ago a changed person. Perhaps 'changed' isn't the right word. I was then the person I am now; I am now the person I was then. But an inner source has been tapped and a new dimension discovered; the center stronger and the path more clear. Of course, enlightenment doesn't happen overnight. Especially not for me. The separation anxiety I felt from my work was somewhere between 1) total panic and 2) the single-childless-woman's equivalent of postpartum depression. What do you mean there is no Blackberry service? The possibility of disconnecting entirely was more foreign a concept than 3G in a dial-up nation. By Day 3, I was in meltdown mode, with little chance of rescue. The only option was to drown in the ocean of calm. Of course, once I stopped flailing, I floated. Flying from East to West, against the spin of the Earth, I had the sense of going...