When I was a little girl, I had the honor of seeing Rudolph Nureyev dance with the Kirov Ballet. One of my earliest exposures to professional ballet, I sat transfixed, breath suspended just as he appeared impossibly suspended in the air while executing one of his famous leaps.
For long after, I remember thinking of his performance as having starfish like qualities, a strange comparison, even for a small child. It wasn’t until much later that I would better understand what that meant. At the time, I just watched his unapologetic command of both time and gravity, legs gracefully splayed in opposing directions, perched on thin air six feet above the stage, seemingly able to move in any given direction at one time. It turns out that the starfish is also capable of this feat. Though it certainly leaves much to be desired in the execution of a Grand Jete and has little to no performance presence, starfish can move in any direction by simply following whichever leg is pointed the way it would like to go. It does not need to turn per se, it just pivots and allows another body part to lead. This analogy, that of the “graceful pivot” has been one of my guiding aphorisms for the last seven years. Life has thrown a lot at my family in that period, and a lot at humanity as a whole. Those of us who have been rigid or resistant during this challenging time have not fared as well as those who have at least attempted the graceful pivot. Fortunately, we do not need to master superhuman athleticism to execute this survival strategy, we need only to understand and practice the Buddhist meditation on the phrase “And now, it’s like this”. As homo sapiens with frequently overactive central nervous systems, we crave predictability and safety. We rehearse mentally how situations, both novel and mundane, should play out, and then experience stress when things do not go according to plan. And really, how often do things really go to plan? Adopting the capacity to pivot from what was expected to what is actually unfolding, without ire, without trying to control it, or feeling defeated by our inability to do so, requires grace. Life is changing constantly and there is no playbook to help us prepare, other than our practice. We too can defy time and gravity by remembering that, at any moment, we can shift directions, flow with the current instead of against it. We are never obligated to move in the same direction from which we began. There is always another way – the way of less resistance. Health issues? Pivot. Pandemic? Pivot. Social unrest? Pivot. “What I expected didn’t happen. So, now it’s like this.” How else can we hope to navigate the unknown waters that lie ahead? Blessings on your journey, Louisa
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Joy has been tangible the last few days since the Equinox. The season of growing things has begun. I can almost taste anticipation on the mild spring breeze, hear it in the bird song that greets me each morning, and feel it in the burgeoning velvet buds of the serviceberry tree in my backyard.
This tree, also known as a Juneberry, wild pear, or shadbush, (but affectionately named “Pete” in my family), is always a helpful companion in tracking the seasons each year. It’s soft white blossoms in mid spring give way to tangy, edible red berries in early June – delicious if you can beat the birds to them. By summer, Pete is verdant and thick with pliable branches where birds of every variety alight, patiently waiting their turn at the feeder. Pete will appear to tremble as though shivering, as his limbs bustle with avian life. In the autumn, Pete’s leaves turn the colors of a fiery sunset, bathing our deck in a spectacular display of yellow, gold, red, and orange. By the time winter approaches, Pete’s leaves have fallen as he prepares for his deep slumber, dreaming of the coming spring when he will awaken ready to greet the sun and his chirping “tenants”. I can sit for an embarrassing long time just watching the ecosystem that Pete has become. Butterflies and bumble bees find sanctuary on his peripheries, careful not to get too close to the activities of the birds. For some time, a family of bunnies had burrowed a safe haven in the ground near his roots, until they were unceremoniously evicted by a racoon. Pete is very popular, it seems. I am grateful to have Pete’s teachings and reminders so close at hand, illustrating the spiral cycle of life when the world presses me into more linear thinking. In a spiral, the barren winter is always followed by growth and rebirth - we are not limited to a beginning, middle, and end. I hope that everyone can find a teacher in nature to help anchor them when the human world becomes too complex and self-important. It is humbling and necessary to remember our partnership with the natural world instead of trying to assert our dominance over it. Blessings on your journey, Louisa |
AuthorLouisa has always enjoyed writing and is thrilled that she now has a way to share her musings with a larger community of like-minded seekers. Her writing is often an extension and exploration of the struggles she faces in integrating her own spirituality, scholarly study, life experience, and nuggets of brilliance from her teachers in the hopes that it might alchemically transform itself into something approximating wisdom. Archives
June 2024
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