Getting into the Grains

Dear Readers,


Several close friends asked me to post my introductory remarks from the Closing Ceremony of the 2011 Mystical Arts of Tibet at the Crow Collection.

6:30 PM, Friday, August 26, 2011
Grand Gallery
This Mandala, representing the Medicine Buddha is especially meaningful as the museum enters a new realm of describing ourselves as The Wellness Museum. This museum is a place where you do more than look at art. In tandem with Asian aesthetics where art is the center of the universe, not something you look at up on a wall for years and years, the museum is a place where you grow as a person, as a friend and as a citizen of the world. Through this next hour we have the opportunity to pause. At the door of the gallery we left a hurricane, an earthquake, dismal headlines and a world in crisis. Inside it is quiet. This silence, this mandala, and the harmonic sounds of ten compassionate monks are ours for the next hour.  With time, it will change…like everything we know, as my three-year old says, “In this world”. I would like to ask you to use your dharana or mental focus to think about one grain of sand in the mandala.  Consider where it sits in this palace of another dimension. Think about how it will move with the Geshe’s hand as he sweeps the sand with acceptance and abandon. Where will it go? Will it land in a bag? Will it be swept into the air? Will it travel with you to a field, or a friend, or to the powerful lull of a wave in the ocean? Where will you carry this grain of sand? The monks teach us that these grains of sand, as they blessed, are emboldened with healing energies that positively impact the world—spreading healing protection, love and compassion wherever they go. Think about  yourbody as a grain of sand: like grains in the mandala, millions of us, as part of a complex universe.

Today, a hundred of us came together as a beautiful work of art and when this evening is over, we will leave. Where will you go? Will you, like the grain of sand, carry a healing energy in your heart? Will you share this awareness and compassion with others? I’d like to suggest that it is not we who carry the sand out into the world in little zip lock bags tonight, but rather the sand, and its powerful energy, and the gifts of these beautiful monks from the Drepung Loseling Monstery that carry us.

http://www.youtube.com/user/Amyhofland#p/a/u/0/q8GyO9PhKh0 

Namaste. Be Well.

Air

The past seven mornings I've watched and waited for the first glow of sun. My view from the pillow faces east and I can see hints of light through the slats of the shutters. It's been easy to get up, and for those who have been following my Summer of The Good Cancer I think it is the best sign of all of the good signs that I am getting healthier (and happier) by the minute. In my first week of birthing this habit of healthy exercise I have learned a few things:

1. There is a huge difference between walking at 6 am and walking at 7 am: radiant sun equals radiant heat
2. Good socks make all the difference
3. Vitamin D just plain feels good

One of the docks at White Rock is my goal for the turnaround. It's beautiful in all lights and patterns of the water beneath. Yesterday I sat on a nearby bench for a few quiet minutes and watched a group of men and boys fishing. The boys appeared to be young teenagers, interacting only with their fathers for the unpopular job of baiting the hook. They spread out strategically, each assuming a post on the pier to maximize access to fish territory. The Dads looked on proudly. I thought about this scene as one of community.

I thought about the lessons of fishing: patience, tenacity, hope, disappointment and joy. I remembered my Grandmother's love of fishing--one so passionate she often lived near the water. I wish I could remember more of our fishing lessons. I'm pretty sure I found them boring.

I've grown to love "my" dock over the past six years. I've seen it in all weather and light, on busy mornings and on still. Docks are places of a good kind of limbo...not quite on land, not quite on water. When I walk I send a quick snap on my phone to my friend and health guru Beth. It's funny how motivating sending a text to a friend can be--like getting the "warm fuzzy" pin for a week in Miss Mannering's music class in the first grade. It is the prize...about 1.5 miles from my front door. Once there, I turn around and head back, pensive about the day ahead and grateful for each step toward it.