Hari Om

Good morning, Loves! Today we ask the question: What does Love ask of me, today?

How can I show up, in the way that moves love through my body and through your body and through the collective body, freely? Liberated? Whole?

It begins in stopping. Stopping what you are thinking, what you are doing, what you are feeling, and just being. Just for a moment. A buffer between the ego and the eros.

Ross Gay goives a moment of what that may look like, on any given day.

Thank you, Ross Gay . Please head over and subscribe to his work, as he is often found showing up for what love asks of him, and sharing that with the world.

All In Love,

Michael

Generate Generosity Here

Hari Om

We bring attention to our bodies not to fix or to change, but to love, and to offer devotion to “the soft animal of our body” that Mary Oliver reminds to allow to love what it loves. This devotional practice is an awareness of the sacredness of everything. There is nothing unholy, with the proper attention we are welcome to see this.

Wendell Berry offers a way for us to try this, to sit and to be still with the trees, and with that which is afraid of us, and that which we fear, and to be at sacred peace.

Sabbaths 1979 I

We will be back on Monday with another live sit, and I do hope to see you, and to share ideas with you. Commenting here and joining the chat are two great ways to reach beyond the boundaries of isolation, and to create these moments together.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

One step closer to having our technology issues improved! And, of course, another meditation bell to bring awareness. The audio is not ideal here, as I forgot to engage the microphone in the streaming service today. However, this sit is meaningful to me today, and I think some of you will find a place of refuge in the unfolding as well.

I forget things. I dissociate from feelings. I ignore my physical body. These are all clever ways I have developed to avoid my suffering. However, much the way we forget to remember, our feelings swell up and spill out, and our body screams when we do not hear it whisper, our suffering avoided is only the way it grows. And it comes back, hard.

The practice of breathing mindfully allows us the moment to remember, to re-associate, to bring loving and kind attention to our bodies. In doing this, we find more room. We become aware of our spaciousness. This allows us the space to invite in whatever we are experiencing without feeling cramped and suffocated, or pushed out by our own body. Have you felt pushed out of your body before? Your thoughts? Your feelings?

When we are inviting in the subtle voice, we become familiar with the parts of us that we are always carrying, but rarely acknowledging. When we are acknowledged, we are loved. This is a practice of love. Pure love. Ugly love. Invisible love. Scared love. Grieving love. Abandoned love. Mistaken love. Stolen love. Abused love. Harmed love. Wounded love. Sorrowful love.

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Is there anything simpler and truer than to forgive ourselves this suffering? Does our love include all of that pain, sorrow, and failure? It does, and it has to. Mary Oliver really laid that bare in a handful of lines.

This morning, before pausing in my cannonball motions, I picked up this poem from a Jan Zwicky collection, and it set a certain pace for my day, which led to my breath opening a quiver in my chin.

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Thanks for sharing in this practice and bringing love into our world today.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om.

We are figuring this thing out. Working our way into where the boundaries lie, and rubbing up against them to slough off our old skins. This is how we learn to love, to see where we are strongly present, what we are carrying with us, and to find where our awareness needs to have the light shone a bit more. This is what it is to be in love in the moment. Learning to let go of the end result allows for the moments as they pass to be wholly lived.

Enriching the Earth

How many moments of joy and love have I lost to my fear of the end? It requires us to sift our thoughts, wheat from chaff, to hold onto the focus of our dharma, which must in some way be to love.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

It is with great optimism that we meditate upon death at the beginning of a new journey. Because it is this hope that its temporary nature will be with us until our end, or theirs. This is a devotional practice, if I know any.

We read from the last published work of the great poet Michael Spring, and a sangha member shares a story of their recent explosive awakening with Kundalini.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

We are coming today from our in-person hall, Beside, A Community Meditation Center. This is a goal that I have had and so many hands have helped to build over the years. It is a joyous and affirming occasion that gives me chills and purpose. Gratitude is the word of the day.

Meditation is long associated, and to our detriment, I believe, with isolationism and solo pursuits. Coming together in person is a way that we can collect our awareness in a dynamic and often surprising fashion. Joining in this sangha, whether in the room or on the screen, we are participating in a collective unfolding. I am so pleased to be stepping into this next room of possibilities.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

This morning, I looked out onto the first sun’s glow, braggadociously projected into the yard by the now giant cherry blossoms, which just two days prior were small hints of Spring’s arrival. I was reminded that what I think from the information of my perception may or may not have been “true”, and also has shifted. The shift is both the changingness of “the thing” and also the changingness of my self. There was no disappointment or resentment toward the tree for its growth. So why, then, do we hold those resentments for ourselves and others? Because we are leaping from awareness to awareness, and in doing so, narrowly missing the gradual art of the shift.

I share a poem by Jan Zwicky, a poet I was introduced to by my friend Dot. Dot Fisher Smith can be met in this short piece by Reflections of Life on Youtube. I trust Dot in all things poem, and many other things as well, and you would do yourself a treat by clicking that link and watching her dance you through a few minutes of your day.

Music's Breath

What a wonderful teacher this poem can be! The crisis crossing of emotions is the weaving of the container that is us. We cannot be one thing, one thought, one emotion, because we are not made of one thing. When I say I love you, that is the you made of the thousands of ways you were loved before. The hundreds of hurts, the dozens of mistakes. We are not one thing, and cannot feel one thing. But we often can only comprehend one thing without the practice of compassion and acceptance. This practice is inherent in our ability to be vast.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

Okay, first, some clean-up. Tomorrow is NOT Good Friday, that is next week. And second; I am unsure on the pronunciation of Marie Charon’s name. I am, however, sure of her immense skill and the offering that I shared today.

I do hope that Marie does not mind so much that I shared her work here.

I also share a poem from Mary Oliver this morning:

Mary Oliver is always a moment of wisdom for my day, no matter the season or time of my life, and I am deeply grateful for her voice this morning.

See you tomorrow.

All In Love,

Michael

I did not bloom to be seen.I bloomed becauseit was time.from Marie Charon https://substack.com/@mariecharonWork, SometimesI was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piledon both sides of the table, paper stacked up, wordsfalling off my tongue.The robins had been a long time singing, and now itwas beginning to rain.What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good workongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling aroundwith a poem.Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yardwere full of lively fragrance.You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn’t itwonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah, what amoment!As for myself, I swung the door open. And there wasthe wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.

Mary Oliver offers always a moment of wisdom for my day, no matter the season or time of my life, and I am deeply grateful for her voice this morning.

See you tomorrow.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

Okay, first, some clean-up. Tomorrow is NOT Good Friday, that is next week. And second; I am unsure on the pronunciation of Marie Charon’s name. I am, however, sure of her immense skill and the offering that I shared today.

I did not bloom to be seen.

I do hope that Marie does not mind so much that I shared her work here.

I also share a poem from Mary Oliver this morning:

Work, Sometimes

Mary Oliver offers always a moment of wisdom for my day, no matter the season or time of my life, and I am deeply grateful for her voice this morning.

See you tomorrow.

All In Love,

Michael

Hari Om

This morning, I found a slew of things that just did not go as planned. With this, I left the microphone button on mute in my streaming software, so I had to add the audio “in post,” as the cool movie kids would say. Well, here is the Frankenversion of this morning’s sit.

All In Love,

Michael