The Yogabliss, Your Heart Life on-line Moving into Meditation classes met this morning. We imagined drawing in the Earth’s breath while visualizing earthworms and fungi creating fertile soil. We reflected on what we might compost within our own lives. Path and practice have transformative potential to support us in growing compassion for ourselves and the world.
Our meditation was inspired by naturalist, teacher and writer Yuvan Aves. Yuvan is author of A Naturalist’s Journal. He is based in Chennai where he is an environmental activist. He is a great story teller. He developed a “practice of seeking wisdom across species during inwardly stormy times.” He describes asking the millipede “Can you help me please?” Then holding his “mind as a receptacle and pay[ing] full attention to the being, its energy, its living . . . “You can listen to a fascinating interview with him about his work at Agam the Climate Podcast.
We heard Rebecca Villarreal’s beautiful poem, Earthworm Magic. Rebecca is a writer and counselor. She refers to herself as a “mystic athlete.” Her poem beautifully evokes the “archetype of the earthworm.”
We drew insights about aging and practice from the third chapter of Kathleen Dowling Singh’s wonderful book, The Grace in Aging: Awaken As You Grow Older.
I invite you to allow your body to settle. Can you rest in a way that your mind can be calm and your heart can be at peace? If you notice a sense of lethargy or sleepiness you might take a few deep breaths. Let the in-breath lift and expand your being. If you notice a sense of agitation or restlessness you might take a few slow breaths. Let the out-breath grow longer. Let it ground you. As you are ready, let go of controlling your breath and observe how it re-establishes a natural rhythm. Can you let this breathing nourish and sustain you?
Right now we can sense the presence of those in our circle. We are here on the path together. It takes a lot of energy to stop doing, to pause the momentum of habit. We have an opportunity to see ourselves and to see beyond ourselves. We might even experience a more expansive sense of being that includes the more than human world.
I invite you to feel Earth’s body. Can you attune to Earth? Perhaps you can recall the musty humus smells that arise. Can you recall the last time you breathed in these earthly out-breaths? Imagine the many beings that are constantly working to turn leaf litter into fresh fertile soil as you breathe – the earth worms, millipedes and slugs. You might visualize mushrooms, the fruiting bodies of fungi that help keep the soil alive.
See if you can attune to the energy of transformation: the yin cycle of decomposition and the yang energy of growth. You might reflect where you are in this cycle. Are there past experiences, beliefs or memories that create suffering in your life today? Notice what surfaces. Can you feel sensations and emotions that may arise? Is it possible to be with any discomfort without avoiding or turning away?
Now as you are staying with this experience, breathe Earth’s moist fertile fragrance. Invoke the earthworms which turn detritus into fertile Earth. Call on the fungi which heal and nourish soil. Keep breathing in rich soil scent. You might embody the slow quiet energy of earthworm or fungi. Allow them to inspire you. Let their energy guide you into composting what may be distressing you into something fertile and healthy. What is it like to move beyond self consciousness to earthworm consciousness?
Naturalist, teacher and writer Yuvan Aves believes:
. . . when you fully observe your pain it can transform into wisdom . . . As you observe yourself, notice how the intensity of your pain and its make-up in your mind begins to change. Know that when you compost your own suffering, you end a very long chain of trauma possibly passed on through generations and through many branches of people, to you. When you compost your own suffering, you create peace and healing for others too.
May the humble earthworms and the silent fungi be our teachers. Poet Rebecca Villarreal describes Earthworm Magic as she invites us to:
Let go
of the let down
Let go
of what you thought
you wanted
who she is
who he is
who you are
Let the broken-hearted brokenness
sink into the earth
compost the
I am alone
I have to control it
I can handle it
Let the earthworms have it
Let it get dark, moist and messy
underground
There are seeds
waiting to grow
You don’t know what they will bring
Kale confusion
Lettuce lovelorn
Tomato truth
This is the upside down of surrender
So scary to move away from what we know
even when all the knowing
so far has made a soup of solitary sadness behind your everyday
Let go
There is a vast green rolling hill
Walk toward it
Then pick up the pace
Feel the sun on your hair
That breeze has gone in your nostrils
Now your lungs know a new breath
Up, up, up the hill until you reach that tree
You’ll know it when you see it
The roots have a little clubhouse entry
Go ahead and rest inside
The moss is soft and just right
Take a nap
Heal your heart
When you wake
You have a chance to let go again
Wiggle your toes
Remember the breeze
Trust your heart with this new moment
Look
Seeds are sprouting.
I invite you to rest. Let go. Imagine Rebecca’s moss, “soft and just right.. . . . Trust your heart with this new moment.” Feel your body resting on Earth’s body. When we stop at any time in our lives we give ourselves the opportunity to be fully alive. We gift ourselves the time to see, to listen and to feel. We create the conditions in which we might liberate ourselves, let go and open our hearts.
In her book, The Grace in Aging, Kathleen Dowling Singh writes:
When we enter a noble path and practice, the insights of wisdom begin to replace habitual mistaken conceptions. As peace and fulfillment grow, the heart naturally opens and wishes such equanimity for all beings in our suffering world. Our intention for liberation from attachment . . . overflows and holds that wish for all beings still assailed by waves of selfing.. . . Our wish to bear witness to all that lies beyond self intensifies. This is compassion growing.
I invite you to imagine the light inside that drew you here today. What ignited the spark that moved you to practice? How do you experience this energy that draws you to stillness? Where is it in your body? How does it feel in your heart? What is it saying in your mind? How does the energy of motivation become intention? How does the energy of intention become practice?
Kathleen encourages readers to enter the transformative process of path and practice while we still have our health and our mental abilities. We can practice now to cultivate our ability to live through illness and the many changes it will bring. We can practice now so that we might be loving caregivers to our family members and friends. We can “cultivate stability and clarity, the courage of presence, while we have some relatively peaceful opportunity.” How do you bring presence to your life today?
May the humble earthworms and the silent fungi be our teachers as we walk the path together. May we, as Rebecca writes:
Let the broken-hearted brokenness
sink into the earth
compost the
I am alone
I have to control it
I can handle it
Let the earthworms have it
Let it get dark, moist and messy
underground
There are seeds
waiting to grow
You don’t know what they will bring