A few days ago I got up early and went outside to do Qi-gong in the alley behind my garage. It is a nice protected space, fenced on one side, with hundred year old Willows and other large trees from neighbor's property (once upon a time the whole area was farmland). The sun had just risen, the sky was turning blue, and I went through about a forty minute sequence including the new Five Element Qi-gong I had just learned. I could feel the areas of soreness in my body soften, and felt my breath slow and deepen, and felt my mental state become more clear and relaxed. I felt my feet deeply connected to the ground. Everything gradually begins to open.
At one point, I saw a blue jay fly across my field of vision as if in slow motion, each beat of its wings visible, in an irregular rhythm The sound of many bird calls, the coolness of the morning air... When I finished I just stood quietly, noticing the relaxation, the very different state Qi-gong sponsors, especially when done outside.
I found myself thinking of Thoreau and of his interest in Indian philosophy; I thought to myself "you don't have to become an expert in these things, just make use of the tools you already have and enjoy the depth of the moment" .
Just then a hummingbird flew from the branches of the willow right over my head. Then another flew over, and then another. In all, I counted sixteen hummingbirds fly toward me and straight over me. I had always thought that hummingbirds traveled alone or with one or two other birds, I have never seen so many at one time.
I felt a great sense of joy in that moment --something wild and unexpected --what a friend calls "wild blessings". I want to link this to the question of allowing stillness and what evolves when we can be still -- no expectation, rather, openness to surprise, and to moments of authentic spontaneous wonder.
I am troubled by recognizing a pull between distraction and overdone discipline in myself, those periods when I lose a sense of my own center of gravity-- the antidote seems to be a middle path, something balanced, where you connect to the stillness of what Mike Eigen called, beautifully, "the uncarved Tao".
Little moment of blessing from the hummingbirds, showing the signs of the uncarved Tao
At one point, I saw a blue jay fly across my field of vision as if in slow motion, each beat of its wings visible, in an irregular rhythm The sound of many bird calls, the coolness of the morning air... When I finished I just stood quietly, noticing the relaxation, the very different state Qi-gong sponsors, especially when done outside.
I found myself thinking of Thoreau and of his interest in Indian philosophy; I thought to myself "you don't have to become an expert in these things, just make use of the tools you already have and enjoy the depth of the moment" .
Just then a hummingbird flew from the branches of the willow right over my head. Then another flew over, and then another. In all, I counted sixteen hummingbirds fly toward me and straight over me. I had always thought that hummingbirds traveled alone or with one or two other birds, I have never seen so many at one time.
I felt a great sense of joy in that moment --something wild and unexpected --what a friend calls "wild blessings". I want to link this to the question of allowing stillness and what evolves when we can be still -- no expectation, rather, openness to surprise, and to moments of authentic spontaneous wonder.
I am troubled by recognizing a pull between distraction and overdone discipline in myself, those periods when I lose a sense of my own center of gravity-- the antidote seems to be a middle path, something balanced, where you connect to the stillness of what Mike Eigen called, beautifully, "the uncarved Tao".
Little moment of blessing from the hummingbirds, showing the signs of the uncarved Tao
RSS Feed