Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
from Desiderata by Max Hermann (1927)
Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
from Desiderata by Max Hermann (1927)
Our Heroine longs to live in the moment.
She wants to be present and fully aware of the here and now.
She does not want to ruminate in her past.
She does not want to catastrophize her future.
But the very notion of wanting this and not wanting that
slows Our Heroine’s journey toward mindfulness and inner peace.
In hopes of centering herself and finding the path, she returns to her breath.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
She breathes and observes her chattering thoughts, her monkey mind.
We need milk.
Why didn’t he call me back?
Will they notice if I don’t post this week?
She breathes and reminds herself,
Be. Here. Now.
*
Our Heroine sits in the Study House.
She reads that when Rebecca first saw her future husband,
Isaac,
he was walking and meditating in the fields.
Our Heroine learns that Reb Nachman of Bratzlav frequently spoke to God
while engaged in walking mediation, alone, in nature.
How wonderful it would be if we were worthy of hearing the song of the grass,
Reb Nachman said to the heavens.
Every blade of grass sings a pure song to God, expecting nothing in return.
It is wonderful to hear its song and to worship God in its midst.
Oh, rats, says Our Heroine, snared in the trap of self-evaluation.
I have walked in nature but never have I heard the pure song of the grass.
And Andrew Weil tut-tuts,
Remember that breath walking — as with any meditation technique --
should not be pursued with a grim determination to get it right.
The point is to cultivate openness, relaxation and awareness.
Our Heroine places her hands on her heart.
She gently strokes the spot in kindness and self-compassion.
She breathes.
In. Out. In. Out.
*
Living in this moment, she sees the red wine spill on the white carpet.
Fully aware, she observes the stain spread.
In this here and now, she acknowledges anger rising like yeast,
but she does not judge the anger.
She does not grasp it or push it away.
She is not the anger.
Our Heroine breathes.
In. Out. In. Out.
She breathes In total forgiveness.
She holds the breath, pauses in patience.
She breathes Out stress, tension, sadness, negativity.
Mindfully, Our Heroine drops to her knees,
calmly sponges the stain with hydrogen peroxide.
Calmly she blots the stain with paper towels.
She sponges and blots, sponges and blots, breathes
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Our Heroine throws away the wet paper towels.
She throws away her attachment to a spotless house.
She loosens her grip on wanting things to be the way she wants things to be.
In this detachment, in this moment of letting go, she finds inner peace.
There is no such thing as inner peace, tut-tuts Fran Leibowitz.
There is only nervousness and death.
Oh, f**k off, Fran, says Our Heroine.
I’m practicing positivity here.
*
Standing at the kitchen sink,
Our Heroine concentrates on becoming one with the soapy water,
one with the cup.
One with the tea that had been in the cup.
One with the person who picked the tea from the ground in which the tea had grown. She focuses on becoming one with the earth itself,
though this prospect, this eventuality, unsettles her and forces her to breathe
In. Out.
and return to the present moment.
She pays attention to the chip in the blue tea cup.
She observes the water going down the drain.
She sees her hands, once smooth, now wrinkled, spotted, old.
Everything is impermanent, Thich Nhat Hanh teaches.
This moment passes. That person walks away. Happiness is still possible.
In. Out. In. Out. In Out.
copyright 2017 Ozzie Nogg
She wants to be present and fully aware of the here and now.
She does not want to ruminate in her past.
She does not want to catastrophize her future.
But the very notion of wanting this and not wanting that
slows Our Heroine’s journey toward mindfulness and inner peace.
In hopes of centering herself and finding the path, she returns to her breath.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
She breathes and observes her chattering thoughts, her monkey mind.
We need milk.
Why didn’t he call me back?
Will they notice if I don’t post this week?
She breathes and reminds herself,
Be. Here. Now.
*
Our Heroine sits in the Study House.
She reads that when Rebecca first saw her future husband,
Isaac,
he was walking and meditating in the fields.
Our Heroine learns that Reb Nachman of Bratzlav frequently spoke to God
while engaged in walking mediation, alone, in nature.
How wonderful it would be if we were worthy of hearing the song of the grass,
Reb Nachman said to the heavens.
Every blade of grass sings a pure song to God, expecting nothing in return.
It is wonderful to hear its song and to worship God in its midst.
Oh, rats, says Our Heroine, snared in the trap of self-evaluation.
I have walked in nature but never have I heard the pure song of the grass.
And Andrew Weil tut-tuts,
Remember that breath walking — as with any meditation technique --
should not be pursued with a grim determination to get it right.
The point is to cultivate openness, relaxation and awareness.
Our Heroine places her hands on her heart.
She gently strokes the spot in kindness and self-compassion.
She breathes.
In. Out. In. Out.
*
Living in this moment, she sees the red wine spill on the white carpet.
Fully aware, she observes the stain spread.
In this here and now, she acknowledges anger rising like yeast,
but she does not judge the anger.
She does not grasp it or push it away.
She is not the anger.
Our Heroine breathes.
In. Out. In. Out.
She breathes In total forgiveness.
She holds the breath, pauses in patience.
She breathes Out stress, tension, sadness, negativity.
Mindfully, Our Heroine drops to her knees,
calmly sponges the stain with hydrogen peroxide.
Calmly she blots the stain with paper towels.
She sponges and blots, sponges and blots, breathes
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Our Heroine throws away the wet paper towels.
She throws away her attachment to a spotless house.
She loosens her grip on wanting things to be the way she wants things to be.
In this detachment, in this moment of letting go, she finds inner peace.
There is no such thing as inner peace, tut-tuts Fran Leibowitz.
There is only nervousness and death.
Oh, f**k off, Fran, says Our Heroine.
I’m practicing positivity here.
*
Standing at the kitchen sink,
Our Heroine concentrates on becoming one with the soapy water,
one with the cup.
One with the tea that had been in the cup.
One with the person who picked the tea from the ground in which the tea had grown. She focuses on becoming one with the earth itself,
though this prospect, this eventuality, unsettles her and forces her to breathe
In. Out.
and return to the present moment.
She pays attention to the chip in the blue tea cup.
She observes the water going down the drain.
She sees her hands, once smooth, now wrinkled, spotted, old.
Everything is impermanent, Thich Nhat Hanh teaches.
This moment passes. That person walks away. Happiness is still possible.
In. Out. In. Out. In Out.
copyright 2017 Ozzie Nogg
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