The Yogabliss, Two Rivers/RiverTree Yoga on-line Moving into Meditation classes met this morning.  So much life is streaming in as we experience more freedom to gather together “in real life.”  My hunger for this togetherness is really big.  Each day has been a new adventure with friends.  It felt good to slow things down and really savor these moments of being alive.  This is also what makes our circles so magic.

We drew on inspiration from meditation teacher and writer Tara Brach and her book, Radical Compassion.  You can find many of Tara’s guided meditations and talks at her web-site.

We reflected on poet David Whyte’s poignant description of embodiment from his latest book,    Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words. David reminds us of the fleeting nature of our embodiment.

We heard poet, Marilyn Peretti’s poem, Still Living.  Marilyn reminds us of the enduring nature of our aliveness.  We are born of Earth, we return to her and new life emerges.

We ended with Nancy Wood’s Earth Teach Me Stillness from her book, War Cry on a Prayer Feather.  Nancy’s humbling words remind us of how much Earth can teach us.
Relaxed Reflection

Right now as we step out of the stream of doing – we can offer ourselves loving kindness – a tender caring – a willingness to truly acknowledge our vulnerability – how we share it with all beings.   We start in mindful embodied presence. Take some deeply nourishing breaths . . . Place your hands over your chest and feel the breath filling you . . . Take in slow deep breath . . . and then just let it go again . . . Feel the fullness of breath in the fullness of time . . . Relax your arms and let them rest  . . . Feel your shoulders . . . arms . . . hands . . . Sense the aliveness in these areas . . . Can you be present in a relaxed wakeful way?

Notice how your shoulder blades meet your ribs . . . and then circle your awareness around the ribs to the center of your chest where they meet your breastbone . . . Can you feel how your ribs move with your breath? Notice any tension here . . . See if you can soften these areas . . . Explore openness . . . . Can you let go a little more maybe with a sense of tenderness?

Meditation teacher and author Tara Brach calls this:

Radical compassion . . .”[It] means including the vulnerability of this life – all life in our heart. It means having the courage to love ourselves, each other, and our world. Radical compassion is rooted in mindful, embodied presence and it is expressed actively through caring that includes all beings.

Presencing with the body . . . Bring a wakeful and tender awareness to your feeling being . . . This loving presence is nurturing and healing . . . In the open spaciousness of loving presence we can be with what is true for us . . . Our presencing capacity grows. Poet and writer David Whyte writes about embodiment

which simply means being here in your body — not anywhere else, just here with life’s fierce need to change you — the fact that the more you’re here and the more you’re alive, the more you realize you’re a mortal human being and that you’ll pass from this place.

“Radical compassion . . . rooted in mindful, embodied presence . . . expressed . . . through caring that includes all.” Right here, right now we awaken from the trance of our busyness . . . We sense the fleeting nature of our being . . . In the fullness of time . . . in the fullness of breath we realize our place . . . as poet Marilyn Peretti’s poem, Still Living, affirms:

I will be alive
when I am dead,
did you know that?
I will not be still
like a hard stone,
but breathing
as roses do,
as robins do,
as the heart
of mountains
which change
and move,
as the mycelium
of mushrooms
under the soil,
unseen, ignored,
sprouting up
at a moment’s notice.

We are Earthlings . . . born of Her body . . . in the fullness of time . . . in dying we return – ourselves nourishing life again and again . . as roses and robins . . . as heart of mountains . . . as magic mycelium sprouting up at a moments notice.

Letting go and coming back to Earth . . . Listen and sense your body’s language . . . sensations and feeling tones . . . thoughts and emotions . . . Can you simply stay right here, for just these few moments, and be with whatever is unfolding inside you? . . . What happens if you bring kindness, loving awareness to your experience?

Tara’s description of “ . . .[r]adical compassion . . .”[it] means including the vulnerability of this life – all life in our heart. It means having the courage to love ourselves, each other, and our world.  In our practice of embodied presence we grow our capacity to be present with others. We are offering our caring presence right now.  Tara asks us to

. . . imagine mindfulness and compassion as inseparable dimensions of awakening. . . . awareness as a bird with two wings: When both wings are unfurled in their fullness and beauty, the bird can fly and be free.

We can recognize what is going on inside – circling anxious thoughts and difficult emotions . . . physical pain. We can allow what is happening by breathing and letting be. . . . We’re not trying to fix or change anything . . . not judging . . . only feeling . . .Right now we can investigate what surfaces in our bodies. . . physical tension or hardening, pulling and pressure around the belly or the heart.. . . Maybe resting your hands lovingly around this area – truly connecting. Asking the anxious part or the sad part . . . what it is believing . . . Asking that part of ourselves: “What do you most need right now?” We can nurture that tender part by sending a gentle message – resting hands over your heart – “I care deeply about what you need.”

Our first response to a newborn baby is love. We were born to love. We heal ourselves with loving presence – the two wings mindfulness and compassion. In the open spaciousness of loving presence we can be with what is true. It is only natural that we extend our tender caring to others. We can grow our circle of caring to include Earth and all her earthlings for she is what sustains us as we must sustain each other. We can care deeply about what is needed now and what is needed by future generations. Earth can teach us as poet Nancy Wood prays:

Earth teach me stillness
as the grasses are stilled with light.
Earth teach me suffering
as old stones suffer with memory.
Earth teach me humility
as blossoms are humble with beginning.
Earth teach me caring
as the mother who secures her young.
Earth teach me courage
as the tree which stands all alone.
Earth teach me limitation
as the ant which crawls on the ground.
Earth teach me freedom
as the eagle which soars in the sky.
Earth teach me resignation
as the leaves which die in the fall.
Earth teach me regeneration
as the seed which rises in the spring.
Earth teach me to forget myself
as melted snow forgets its life.
Earth teach me to remember kindness
as dry fields weep with rain.

May we practice radical compassion. May we”. . . includ[e] the vulnerability of this life – all life in our heart. . . . [May we have] the courage to love ourselves, each other, and our world.