Summer (from Sacred Paths and Muddy Places)
As summer drew near and my mind settled into my
surroundings, the longer days gave me time to enjoy where I was
living. I easily could get too caught up in work or tasks or
plans and forget to look around to see my surroundings. Since
conditioning and socialization had led me so far from nature--including my inner nature--I needed to make a conscious effort to notice it, to feel it, to remember it. In cities, where I grew up and spent most of my time, I only read about nature or drove
to it and then drove out of it, back to something I always seemed
to be late for.
But at the cabin, time, or my perception of it, moved
slower, thus allowing my senses to operate as they were intended
to operate. And at this time of year all the added daylight
revealed everything around me so my mind could not deny what my
senses experienced. No matter how busy I wanted to be,
eventually it all got done with the longer day, and finally I
could do nothing but kick back and take it all in, taking time to
think and reflect on things.
June 1: "I sighted a beaver again tonight. The first time was yesterday with Al over at Beaver Pond. Apparently beavers had just moved in and had already dammed up the outlets, raising the pond's level. There's something about beavers that moves me: the way
they go about their business quietly and steadily, the way they get the job done through ingenuity and patience and perseverance. Some people have those qualities, but all beaver's have them. To me, their natural selection, their evolution, is quite
advanced--they know exactly what their task is and are equipped to accomplish it; and all do accomplish it (if they're not killed or driven out by people along the way)."
I watched that beaver much of the summer, noting that it
probably had advanced more along on the evolutionary scale than
I, for it knew exactly what it was placed on earth to achieve,
and without the slightest hesitation it did what it learned early
on to do. I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure of my place in
life lolled about that summer doing some deep thinking...and deep
seeing.
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The long winter and cold spring accentuated the summer
for me. Finally, the delicate, almost frail hands of summer
grasped the hemisphere and blew warm breezes for a couple of
short months. I took time to sit back, feel the sun, wear T-shirts and wide-brim hats, and listen to the music of the forest. With the solstice came a full symphony of sound--birds and crickets and frogs and bees and other buzzing creatures bellowed
and chirped and hummed and squeaked as the warm wind played
harmony for the whole band. The spring saw birth--an awakening, a stretching, an excited tremolo. The summer was vibrant and
verdant maturity, expansive, blossoming, showing off its finery
as it strutted and danced like an uninhibited mummer.
For me the summer brought an easiness that the other
seasons lacked. No wood to cut or burn. Less cooking and
dishwashing. More fresh and raw fruits and vegetables. More
walking and seeing and hearing and smelling--ah the smelling!--of
warm, fresh breezes, of roses in town gardens, of electrified air
after a thunderstorm, of a skunk flexing its scent glands, of the
dank moss hugging the banks of the creek where I dipped my cup,
and sometimes my feet, for water.
This first summer here filled me with excitement and
anticipation. It filled me with wonder shaped and heightened by
birds--summer birds, soaring hawks, phoebes fluttering in front
of my loft window, chickadees and jays vying for feeding
territory. After the winter they began to trickle back in spring
like wanderers, travelers returning home. They came home
rejuvenated, full of chitter and chatter, full of life and
flight. Flight--that more than anything made birds the envy of
man. We'll never have self-propelled flight, so it will always
remain a dream, a vision, a metaphor.
I sat outside my cabin and watched the summer birds fly.
The warm winds let me dream, and my thoughts and spirit ascended,
unencumbered, touching down, then taking off again. No wonder
their songs and warbles were so clear and alive. I lay back and
dreamed--lazy daydreams, and more expansive dreams that were
spawned within all the time that summer allowed.
The winter would mean survival and keeping warm and
attending to everyday tasks. But the summer had let me gather
together my inner resources and project and reflect into life and
time ahead. Was I content with the way my life was going? Where
did I want to be in ten years? What if I had only six months to
live? Would I be doing what I was now doing?--questions that
seemed incongruous and irrelevant to other seasons, since then I
was doing exactly what I needed to be doing to deal with their
more immediate demands.
Summer, though, indulged the senses. Its warmth and sun
and humidity directed thoughts to the future. Maybe that
accounted for less getting accomplished, less task orientation.
The body could relax more, yet, for the mind, it could also be a
more anxiety-producing time: fewer maintenance functions, yet
more thought, which I knew could get me into trouble if most of
that thought dwelled on anticipating, planning, and projecting.
And I knew, too, that anytime I left the moment, I became unsettled. Was I content? Where was I headed? Did this woods life have meaning and purpose? Summer was almost defined by self-indulgence, so these were questions I would ask and re-ask during the hot, lethargic days ahead. No pressure to come up
with answers now. No need, quite yet, to figure things out.
Birds up there needed seeing. Trees out there needed hugging.
Flowers all around needed smelling. Waddling skunks somewhere
needed smiling at. Beavers over at the pond needed marveling at.
And summer, itself, needed my lazy mind, swimming with questions.
But not answers, not just then.
copyright Stephen Altschuler 2008
Picking a President, Mindfully
Although a case could be made, George Bush is not necessarily a cruel man, nor is he a mean man, nor is he a stupid man. But George Bush is, by his biographer’s admission, a stubborn man, and a stubborn man or woman should more than likely not be President of the United States. So in looking at the candidates running in ’08, and using George W. Bush as an anti-example, these are some criteria for deciding who should be the next President.
To run this country and deal with the complexities of the world:
You have to be open and flexible.
You have to see and admit the error of your ways when you make a mistake. You have to be willing to change course when the first way isn’t working.
You have to be willing to listen to opposing points of view and truly consider them in your final decisions.
You have to be able to stand in the other guy’s shoes.
You have to be humble, not prideful.
You have to be wise and honest and self-deprecating.
You have to be well spoken and gracious and a person of dignity and character. You have to have a sense of humor.
You have to be, not a decider, but an effective communicator.
You have to genuinely like people, wanting to help them, and be willing to listen.
You have to disdain lying to, misleading, and deceiving people.
You have to yield sometimes, to stop short of the brim, to cease sharpening the same knife over and over until it dulls and falls apart.
You have to have good people around you.
You have to be willing to negotiate and compromise.
You have to be willing to meet and talk with your adversaries.
You have to inspire people in a positive way.
You have to be compassionate towards the poor, unfortunate, and unhealthy.
You have to be a real human being, not just a caricature cooked up by handlers and spin doctors.
There are more of course. You can add your own, I’m sure. But this will give you a starting place when sifting through all the personalities and politicians who are running for President. The issue of electability should not come into play, for none of us can predict this, and as we found out in 2000, the power brokers were able to engineer a victory by manipulating the process—all quite legal it seemed, but diabolically rigged. And obviously we have no control over such cabals (unless we can get meaningful campaign finance reform). American democracy was radically challenged in the 2000 election and we are still reeling from the aftershocks. All we can realistically do now is take a good look at the candidates and decide for ourselves who we would like to see as President for the next four or, possibly, eight years.
Given the polarity we now have, there’s a good chance the power brokers will try to fix this election as well. But if the outcome is clear that is not likely to happen. And there is a better chance for a clear result if we are clear going into the voting booth about the character of the person we are voting for. No guarantees, you understand, but the power brokers feed on uncertainty, fear, and a lack of clarity, so instead of focusing on these, better to concentrate on the quality of the candidates. This is all part of healing the wisdom of the electorate as a way of counteracting the cabals.
As for my picks, elect a Democrat this time around. It's time for some fresh air in Washington, so that means a Democratic Congress as well. Who for President? I'm for Barack Obama, but my main intent is to point the way to choosing a good leader, and hopefully preserve this great democratic experiment of ours.
copyright Stephen Altschuler 2007
Mindful Living instructions:
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At least once today, notice your breath.
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Devote some time each day to prayer, reflection, and meditation.
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Watch the tendency to judge and cut it off when it arises.
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Break your normal routine at least once during the day.
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Take a moment and notice where your body contacts the Earth.
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Acknowledge, from time to time, the part gravity plays in daily life.
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Break away from work mode, even only for a minute or two, and notice something in nature.
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Do or say something kind today .
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Be aware of where your feet are at any given time, particularly getting out of the shower, walking on rocks across a creek, walking on an uneven trail , walking on ice or any slippery surface, walking on city sidewalks and streets.
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If you've received some good fortune, pay it forward to someone else.
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Get involved in a cause of some kind. The genocide in Darfur comes to mind as something that needs immediate attention. A mindful life involves trying to alleviate suffering of any kind whenever possible.
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