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Mitra

Meet Mitra, my Bluetooth speaker. In Sanskrit, the word mitra means friend.

Months back, I decided to name my little speaker, in an effort to make better acquaintance with it. Since the speaker comes equipped with a female voice, which sees fit to tell you when it’s turning on and off or when it’s looking for a connection to whatever electronic device you’re attempting to pair it with, and also when the connection has been lost, I named her Mitra. Mitra can also speak a handful of languages in which to tell you said announcements. Since my personal preference is not an option: a silent/non-talking mode, I came to realize that I needed to find a way to enfold the speaker into my mindfulness practice, because I found the voice jarring, unpleasant, and annoying.

Did I mention that there’s also no controlling the volume of the Bluetooth voice? And, to top if off, the speaker has a mind of its own. It randomly turns itself off for no good good reason and disconnects itself from my laptop on its own volition – making sure to announce at top volume about its decisions as it goes about its business.

It’s not ideal.

So, I named her Mitra, to remind myself that making friends with whatever it is that I find disagreeable, is what the essence and aim of cultivating a mindfulness practice is all about.

Another thing I did was to set Mitra on the Portuguese setting, as I find that it’s the most lovely sounding language she speaks.

Mitra and I hang out everyday. So, it behooves me to make friends with her is the way I figure it.

Regarding her as a friend helps me to not get frustrated with her when she acts up in a way I deem incongruent with my worldview. As it happens, she’s temperamental – just like me and every other person I know.

It may sound silly but I find this practice of befriending inanimate objects incredibly useful in my practice (I’ve got other ones, too). I talk with her just as I would a real friend, and it helps me to develop more patience and understanding as a result. Making friends with my Bluetooth speaker is an action I take in order to reduce my own suffering – however trite and mild that suffering might be – and it works great!

As the Buddha said: With our thoughts we make the world.

 

 

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Un-distracted & Un-hurried

One morning a week – Saturdays to be precise – I eat my morning’s breakfast un-distracted and un-hurried.

With the exception of this one meal per week, I eat accompanied by such things as music and/or my laptop.

On Saturday morning’s, however, I take the time to connect more deeply with the bounty of food I am so richly afforded.

I eat in silence, with posture upright and solid.

I savor.

I inhale the many causes and conditions that factored into its being with every bite.

And in the span of my meal time, I am transported around the globe.

Then, with senses in full bloom, I re-embody myself and come back home, fresh and new.

 
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Posted by on September 15, 2018 in Everyday Practice

 

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On Motorcycling

My husband Mike leading the way through Glacier National Park, July 2018

On Motorcycling

To experience what it means to fall in love with motorcycling – to have an enthusiasm alight and burn within – one needs to embody certain qualities:

  1. An ability to sit still.
  2. Adaptability to weather varying road conditions.
  3. Fortitude (cuz it can sure get gusty out there)
  4. Enough openness of heart to allow the wind of a ride to clear out the mental static, replacing the day’s un-pleasantries with spaciousness and ease.
  5. Strength of character to both hold your own and be a good pack member.
  6. Steadiness of disposition.
  7. A go-with-the-flow approach to life enough to make it possible for the rumble of an engine beneath you to stir up a power that recharges you.
  8. An appreciation of what the open road has to teach and offer.
  9. An admiration for the capacity of a ride’s ability to alter your perspective of time and space and sense of connection.
 

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My Practice Today

My practice today is to remember:

I can’t do everything.

I cannot “save” anyone else.

I practice for myself, not to affect change in others.

I need to keep my own tanks full (mental, emotional, spiritual, physical) in order to be of support to others.

I can take refuge in the island of myself – and I can sing this lovely practice song, as an added support: “Breathing in I go back to the island within myself, there are beautiful trees within the island, there are clear streams of water, there are birds, sunshine, and fresh air, breathing out I feel safe, I enjoy going back to my island.”

Breathing in, I come back to my own practice

Breathing out, I let go of my feelings of needing to fix someone else’s difficult situation

 
 

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Flight Travel

airplaneflying

Part of me has always figured I’d make a good flight attendant. It’s the part of me that has to tuck her head in-between her knees for the 20 minutes prior to landing that has reservations. But other than the debilitating wave of vertigo and nausea that strikes me upon descent I’d be a shoe-in.

I love flying and I love people. It’s not that I love the flying itself. I love the flying experience. And it’s not so much that I love people individually but more that I love the experience of people.

As I’ve met only 1 or 2 others who don’t detest participating in metal-winged travel, I’d take great pride in being the flight attendant to help shift the collective pool of shared consciousness. The way I see it, we’ve been programmed to hate flying. And our hate spreads like the plague infecting everyone in our wake, thereby perpetuating and strengthening our cultural distaste.

The super good news is that hate isn’t the only thing that spreads. Positivity spreads, too. With my brass wings pin glinting in unison with my smile I’d win over one sour-puss traveler at a time, convincing them that enjoying the flight far exceeds loathing it, in the quality-of-life department.

As I made my way through the cabin handing out tiny, scratchy pillows, tiny plastic cups filled with 80% ice and 20% ginger ale, and tiny packets of peanuts, I’d throw in my cheery disposition free of charge, slyly coaxing others to rewrite a new internal story about what it means to partake in the awesomeness of flight travel.

P.S This post and yesterday’s post I borrowed from my writer’s facebook page, but many of my FB posts don’t travel here to my blog. If you’re interested in reading my daily musings please check out my page: https://www.facebook.com/InMindfulMotion/

 

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Sugar

stylized_granulated_sugar

It’s been 2 or 3 years now since I gave up what I call “dessert sugar.” Funny, how I’m not sure how long it’s been. Funny how it doesn’t even really matter. When looking back, individual years acquire a different sort of time stamp in our memory, which dramatically lessens the significance one experienced while actively living it.

I’ve been a life-long sugar addict. One for whom chocolate and cookies stir a deep adoration no other food product comes close to matching. Those were my DOC’s (drugs of choice): chocolate and cookies. On the addiction scale I’d say I was somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, edging my way over the line into the “Danger, Will Robinson” zone.

I came up with the “dessert sugar” phrasing in an effort to find a quick way to explain myself in response to the inevitable quizzical look that would follow after turning down a sugar filled offering. Apparently, people often find it curious when someone doesn’t partake in sweets, which is similar to what used to happen when I would decline libations before I fashioned a largely sober friend base. It would be easier for people to understand if I were, say, a diabetic trying to watch my carb intake, or an alcoholic on the wagon, but as someone who chooses to voluntarily avoid both substances, I become the equivalent of a talking unicorn found serendipitously in the woods on a long hike.

“Dessert sugars” mean just that. They refer to the eats one would commonly consider a dessert product: cookies, cake, brownies, ice cream, pie, and anything having to do with chocolate. If I weren’t limited to explaining myself in the time frame of someone’s minuscule attention span, I would further add that I’ve given up both dessert sugars and junk-food sugars. Junk-food sugars being: candy, breakfast pastries, funnel cake, sugary cereals, and anything else one tends to eat large quantities of and is socially allowed to have at any hour of the day. For a reason I have yet to pin down, I feel it necessary to report to anyone who’ll listen about how I’m not foregoing ALL types of sugar, just the sort that might trigger my particular proclivities. I continue to eat fruit and granola bars most every day. I even drink juice, un-caffeinated sodas, and sweet tea every so often. I guess I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea and wind up stewing in a falsely held judgement about how I’m a hypocritical wind-bag, when next they spot me sipping on a smoothie.

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Posted by on December 27, 2016 in Everyday Practice

 

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