Don't Miss Your Dover

Some opportunities present themselves once. The tradition of Canada’s largest single day rally of Motorcycles in quiet little Port Dover, Ontario is one such opportunity—for 2014 at least. If you missed the June event you will have to wait until February 2015 before the doomy date rolls around again.

The motorcycle descent on Dover is a tradition that was born on November 13, 1981 when Chris Simons and a couple dozen friends gathered at a local watering hole, had a great time and agreed to make it a ‘thing’ to do whenever a Friday the 13^th rolled around. Fast-forward thirty-three years and Chris and his gathering of buddies has spilled over the confines of the Commercial Hotel into the streets, the parks, the pier and beyond, including a makeshift tent city that springs up in a Kinsmen sports park.  Estimates are that more than 100,000 soul moving machines of steel and chrome come together to carry on the tradition of Destination 13. Mike was among them arriving on his classic, a Honda CB750.

I arrived in my own vehicle and like thousands of other four-wheeled party crashers was stopped pleasantly at the edge of town by Provincial Police, redirected to a cornfield and bussed-in to join the event. The irony of all those black and white rebel leather clad biker movies was not lost on me in this moment. 

And just to clear up the fuzzy detail of why I was not on the bike with Mike—two very important factors: First, my ‘Motorcycle’ and my ‘Momma’ are not quite in sync yet. We’re not entirely finished raising the last of our children into adulthood and I’m just starting to nurture some long supressed reckless abandon back to life. A sustainable future of traversing the continent on two wheels with my husband depends on a good introduction of short successful rides; this was not the day for my ride. The second reason I drove myself is the very cognisant understanding that riding for Mike is therapy, meditation and how he gets his brain back; I have a theory that any trouble he has with me is not going to be escaped with my arms wrapped around his waist at 100km/hr. That’s a little like trying to run away from your own stink. Twenty-two years of marriage has taught me that a little space is some of the best affection I have to shower. 

I could feel the benefits of his solo ride along the winding roads to Dover when we met up in front of the Main street post office. I couldn’t help but acknowledge that the ‘something in the air’ that is Port Dover on Friday the 13^th was also in my husband. A relaxed, no worry, no judgement demeanour that saunters down the middle of the road admiring the view and the sunlight glinting off candy apple paint and shined up chrome.

There is something I discovered to appreciate wholly about an event that draws a crowd as ‘walk-of-life-diverse’ as a biker’s rally, and places you so completely in the company of good people who are good with life.

This struck me right away and has remained; the amazing commonality in a crowd thousands. Beyond the obvious affection for riding was a distinct absence of striving, a peaceful ‘be here now’–ness which I’ve simply never encountered anywhere else in my everyday living outside of my own personal stillness practice. It was interesting that though Mike and I travel very different routes to inner peace, here in this place the two came together in a single subtly of mind.   

We lunched on the lawn of a beautiful Port Dover home with soft grass and stately trees. It was an ideal side-street retreat from the sun and the denser crowds. Gathered there with others resting we admired a steady stream of riders leaving and arriving to and from destinations unknown. 

I closed my eyes for a moment and absorbed as much with my other senses as I could, the sounds, the smells, the rumble of the motors and the songs of the birds. I memorized the feel of the warm sun breeze on my skin and Mike’s hand upon my back. This is what the world needs I thought, this right here and I wanted to take it with me, every ounce and nuance of it—back with me from these rally streets to everyday life. When they talk about how to change the world, I am convinced the answer can be found in the collective peace of 100,000 souls gathered together for no reason other than to be there.  

Some opportunities present themselves only once—like life. I’m very glad I didn’t let this one slip on by. 

...to seizing opportunities! 

Love

M 

The Two Step

I love the challenge of a mindfulness exercise. I love what one aims to teach and I love what I learn—and accept that they are rarely, if ever, the same thing.

Today’s mindfulness exercise is The Two Step. I set out this morning with instructions to enter every room with my left foot first and to exit every room with my right foot first. Sounds silly, sounds simple.

You would think—unless you have to think.

If you have to think, there is a break in your step. There is a pause just before you enter a room when you are forced to concentrate on putting the correct foot over the threshold. The split second pause fills with nothing except attention to your step. Anything you may have been thinking before you reached the doorway is mute. There is only left foot or right foot. There is only—mindfulness.

This Two Step mindfulness exercise today has kept me hopping, has certainly kept me practicing mindfulness throughout the day, caused me to trip a couple of times and also to be mistaken for someone who ‘put a few back’ over lunch.

I expected all of that.

What I didn’t expect was the reminder of the ‘purposeful pause’ --The notion that at every given moment we are afforded the luxury of pausing. That there is always a moment right before we act, before we speak, before we answer, ask or judge where we can (and should) take a breath, a pause and consider the next step before we take it or the next word before we speak it. There is a pause right before we make a move in which there is no move. In that pause rests the future of argument or agreement, apathy or benevolence, the ability to make a difference or to make a point. The purposeful pause is always present. It is the split second you always have to choose; the moment that determines your move and the direction of each event that follows.

Now maybe it was a potential conflict with a teenage daughter and the breath I took right before avoiding it that really hammered the point of the ‘Purposeful Pause’ home. Either way…

A note of gratitude today for the reminder to ‘Watch my Step’

Love

M

Where to Find the Time

There is a silly little saying among those who practice meditation:

This is one of my very favourite side effects of meditation – the gift of time!

Before I began my practice I was a warrior of frantic doing-ness. There was always somewhere I had to be, someone I had to meet, some ‘thing’ I had to get made or baked or cleaned, dropped off, picked up or planned. Even the most well calculated day was assuredly destined for a mid-execution schedule redesign. No person or project in my circle was free from the threat of concession... and it was familiar. I wanted to do it all, like I knew I could….if I only had enough time. 

I wanted more time to get things done, more time to linger, to rest, to play and to enjoy. I wanted to be one of those people who had time to tie her green beans into tiny bundles and spend Tuesday night at the movies with a friend. I settled for time to pee.

The very notion that in the midst of a full schedule I would consider squeezing in 30 minutes for meditation each day is probably evidence of some borderline delusion illness. I should probably have gone to have my head examined.

But I didn’t, I went instead to sit in a chair quietly for 30 minutes – I managed 5 before my brain butted in and reminded me that I didn’t have time to sit and do nothing.

5 minutes…I managed that every day for a few weeks, then I managed 10. Eventually I managed 20 then 30…today I could probably manage an hour or more… if people would just stop needing to be fed.

The amazing thing is that I ‘found the time’ without removing anything; I didn’t sacrifice a single item on my to-do list to make room for meditation. Meditation made room for itself.

More than that, it made room for everything else on my list—everything! From cleaning the stove to painting my toe nails! Room to watch movies with my family on a weeknight, room to get the laundry folded and the teenagers shuttled back and forth to work. I rarely miss a hockey game and I found time to stop for coffee on the way to the arena.  It’s crazy! (‘Amazing’ crazy not ‘get your head examined’ crazy) Beyond having enough time I actually have extra time…(Spare time—I think it’s called)……I can’t even make this up—such  a thing does exist! ….Time to read, to write, to keep the rink, to go to the movies, the mall, and to linger at the kitchen table. 

I have so much time I am baking biscuits for Sunday supper and washing dishes before I leave for work in the morning. I shovel the driveway because I have nothing more pressing to do and I linger in the shelves of the library far longer than I should have the right to.

It sounds too good to be true, there are still only 24 hours in a day and I sleep for at least 8 of those!

Nobody arrived with a magic wand or a time machine I did it all by myself, 5 minutes at a time. I want to tell you how Meditation magically makes time move more slowly and frees up so much space in a schedule but I’m not sure that I would explain it easily. It just does.

Perhaps it is because things become less urgent, less necessary, and less critical. Maybe it’s the stress reduction or the pace reduction. Maybe it is because a light shines on what truly matters and filters out the noise and bustle of the ‘have to-s’and the 'should do-s'. Maybe in ‘the quiet’ a mind subconsciously organizes and prioritizes and knocks things off the list that don’t really need to be there. 

Do I care how it happens, what the science behind the phenomenon is?

No.

I have found an explanation that will suffice. Meditation is a solid sure path to your nature and….

Gratefully,

Love

M

Tiny Orange Vacation

Near the beginning of my chapter into mindful living I went to a workshop on meditation. I wanted to make sure I was doing it right, which is funny because one of the very first things you learn is that you can’t do it wrong. None the less I wanted some ‘professional’ insight. I went, I listened, I shared. I ate a raisin; the instructor coaching us through the process in infinitesimal steps of total awareness.  Eating the raisin took 15 minutes. It was the single best raisin I have eaten in my entire life…ever! It was so good - one raisin was enough.

It was an incredible little exercise that left me feeling very sad for all the thousands of raisins I’ve eaten in my life and not tasted. Raisins have never been the same.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that raisin lately, mostly because we’ve reached that glorious time of year when oranges are sunshiny globes of pure perfection. While it’s rare to find an exceptional orange in say… September, it is equally difficult to get a bad one right now. I’m in orange heaven!

A meditation teaching of Thich Nhat Hanh reminds me of that raisin each time I reach for an orange. Thich Nhat Hanh teaches a gathering of children with a basket of tangerines that eating is an exceptional opportunity to practice some mindfulness.

If you’re not in a hurry, let’s eat an orange. If you are in a hurry, stop hurrying...let’s eat an orange.

Begin by choosing your perfect orange, from the grocers counter, your counter fruit bowl or your co-worker’s lunch bag.

Why did you select that particular orange?

Feel the weight of your orange, does it feel heavy and promising, filled with juice? Does it sound hollow when you bounce it up in the air and let it thud back into your palm? Run your fingers over the waxy surface and check your hands for the glittery oils that rub off and stick to your skin. Are there any blemishes or scars on your orange? Is it a deep colour or pale?

Turn your orange about in your hand. Can you see where it was once attached to its tree? Can you imagine the rains and sunshine being soaked in though the tree’s delicate green leaves and travelling through its intricate system of roots and branches to reach a single blossom? Can you imagine that the tree turns that rain and sunshine into fruit for you to enjoy. How hard the tree works against weather, pests and disease to do nothing beyond nurturing your orange.

A tree does not think “I must grow an orange.” It just does. An orange tree does not endeavour to be anything other than an orange tree. It does not wake up in the morning and question its purpose and wonder if it should be growing apples. It just puts all of its effort into growing an orange. We can learn a great deal from an orange tree.

Lift your orange to your nose. Breathe in the fresh bright scent. Close your eyes, can you see the sunshine?

Break through the nubby textured skin. Did you see the oils spray into the air around the puncture? Can you smell anything beyond the bold citrus scent released by that single action? You cannot eat an orange in secret like you can a chocolate bar.

Beneath the firm shiny covering lays that creamy yellow layer of pith welded to the fruit. I will pick for a lifetime to remove every veiny strand of its bitterness. At the very best oranges have peels that are thick and spongy and keep every ounce of juice from evaporating through the skin.

Break the peeled orange into segments. Do you do this all at once or peel each one off when it is time to be eaten? The membrane that covers each segment is smooth and dries out quickly. If you break a segment open you may find a seed. You are certain to find the wedge packed with teeny tiny droplets of orange juice. They pop with barely a pressure.

That first bite….

....is always a surprise no matter how many oranges you eat in your lifetime. That first bite sucks all of the saliva out of your cheeks and makes you pucker quickly before replacing it with sweet, tangy rivulets of sunshine and rain sweetened with time and the attention of nature’s simple efforts.

Nothing else on earth tastes like an orange. No other orange on earth taste like this one.

An orange eaten this way becomes more than fuel. An orange eaten this way becomes a tiny orange vacation.  

I'll be enjoying as many 'vacations' as my body can tolerate over the coming weeks. Then it's back to raisins.

Enjoy!  

Love

M

Just This One

We’ve been hit! It had to happen eventually, we got winter. Not the sissy ‘Pass me a sweater, it’s a little chilly’ kind of winter we’ve come to love but a full on ‘like when we were kids’ kind of winter. Winter, complete with sub-zero wind-chills and frozen pipes, winter that makes you plug your car in and wear a balaclava. The scenery out my kitchen window is breathtakingly beautiful; tree branches gently laden with mounds of pristine white snow. Out my front window I can almost see my neighbour’s house over the dirty brined snow banks that keep growing and growing each time the plow passes or the walks get cleared.

Technically it has only been winter for 19 days we still have 69 days to go, which could easily turn into 79 or 89 given the rebellious nature of Canadian winters. That’s a lot of ‘suck it up’ we have left to get through.

Ordinarily under the current conditions I would be huddled up on the couch in my comfy pants with a cup of tea, maybe reading or writing, maybe curled up with one of the kids enjoying a movie. Ordinarily; but this year is different.

This year Mike is the community rink committee. Maybe ‘committee’ is an overly generous term, seeing as he is the sole member. I suppose he is more the Community Rink Guy, which makes me the community Rink Guy’s wife. Somewhere in the fine print I feel this obligates me to frock up in snow-pants and boots, toque, mitts and parka to join him on the ice. I’m trying very hard to whine and moan about it but I think the rouse is failing, Mike can see right through me, I’m having a great time! Truth be told I’m probably a little OCD about the whole thing, trying to get the ice just right for the kids in the neighbourhood to enjoy. Mike says I have ‘Perfect Ice Syndrome’ and it drove him crazy the year we did our own rink in the backyard.

Building, maintaining and grooming 3,600 square feet of ice is no small feat I’m learning, and when those 3,600 square get dumped on by an old-fashioned Canadian winter….well a feat has the inevitability of turning into drudgery. Or would have a year ago, before this….

The simple principal of Present Moment Awareness; keeping your thoughts concentrated solely on the moment at hand. Facing 2 hours of shovelling wind-packed snow drifts…you have to have a mindset. If I look back at how much we’ve accomplished or compare it to the future of how much we still have left to do I promise I would be ass down in the snow-bank crying over my life! But if I look just at my shovel, just at the bit of snow I am moving at that moment, if I concentrate just on getting that little bit moved off of the ice…. I am surprised when Mike and I bump our shovels into one another – Job Done!

It’s a sanity saving strategy in the pursuit of happiness that I try diligently to apply to every task at hand; washing dishes, laundry folding, stuffing envelopes, washing the floor. It turns each chore into a meditation. The trick is to not use the time to think about other things, not the bills or the fight you had with your kids or the grocery shopping. Just observe everything about moving that little pile off of the ice.

Enjoy a Wonderful Friday!

Love

M