On Balance And Inclusiveness

I have been thinking about balance lately.

Balance between work and play; mind and body; body and soul…

Joy and sadness, sun and shadow...

But then balance is hard to find (and to keep) if we do think about it as a rope between two polarities; a rope we are supposed to walk upon.

(Some of us can do that, walk on a rope: it takes a lot of dedicated practice first.)

I have come, instead, to consider balance as an inclusive process.

I decided to include perennials into my balcony garden. Hello Lupin!

Take love, for instance. 

Loving is seeing.

Love is at the center of everything; it is why we are here in the first place, from tiny ant to big elephant. 

Yet, as humans, we have a kind of limited access to this foundational, encompassing love – so what we generally call “love” (in various contexts) is a fragment of it: parental love, romantic love, self-love. Friendly love. 

Love for your furry companion.

These forms of love are simply parts of the whole – like each of us, in fact.

And just like us, these loves need to grow, to evolve, to be sustained and heard, to find their own balance.

Maybe there is a reason why we are like this, forever struggling and searching; maybe there is something to be added, to be created in the endeavour, something important for the whole? Surely.

Something like a song, a choreography, a poem.

This is why the inclusive quest, I think, works best than the elusive.

In other words: chase something that is elusive, and it will elude you (me, at least). But consider yourself as a whole. Today. What do you see?

Blooming Yarrow.

I see – or rather I feel, I hear – a song, a rhythm, carried out by several voices. To simplify, I’ll call these voices: Body, Mind, Soul, Connection to nature, Awareness of the cosmos. These are just words, but I find them useful to identify (somehow) the various kinds of voices humming me into life, humming life into me.

I am not separate from them; they are not separate from me. And of course, they are not separate from one another. We are One, remember? We are One as a species, as a planet – and as people.

These voices create our own song (what we experience and manifest) together. Body, Mind, Soul, Connection to Nature and to the Universe, all of these elementary aspects of life are naturally involved in any human process (like love, work, or play; like building a cabin or a relationship), and when you try to leave some of them out, you start losing balance.

Whereas the closer you get to the center, the more layers you find, in delicate, intricate harmony.

Mind and Soul (each and together) need to be grounded in the Body; in the sensual, daily experience of nature around us, of the circadian and seasonal cycles – as they have always been.

Body-and-Mind, on their own, are an instable duo: soon the Ego steps in as a referee or ruler, whereas the Soul would have created between them a much more gentle, natural equilibrium (leaving room for the cat and the moon to hum along ;o)

Lola calling me out to the balcony is my first daily connection to both Nature and the Body… 
and brushing her purring self in the soft morning air is a Soul-nurturing practice :o)

Are you still with me? Is this becoming too abstract? I hope not.

For you see, I have been immersed in mental processes way too often since my former post: the translation that had “just arrived on my desk” was followed by several others, in close succession and sometimes concurrently.

These were interesting essays on contemporary art (for galleries or magazines) but they were not easy, and one particular magazine was a new client with very high standards. I had dreamed of working for them! So pretty much everything but translation was pushed aside for weeks (in addition to my job at the yoga centre).

Since Body and Soul (or even Nature) were not able to properly balance the Mind, worry stepped in (how can I do it all in time? or properly?) and started fogging my mind, ironically, preventing me to function properly on the translating front. For weeks (and it’s not over).

...

So when the most pressing deadlines were behind me, a few days ago, I made a pause, to create again an inclusive space in my life for balance  :o)

Stretching in Wild Thyme.

I switched from Yoga to Danga on Andrew Bird’s music (and it felt wonderful).

The night of the Summer Solstice (which I would have missed if not for Milla’s post), I improvised a small ceremony, with a cedar smudge and a beeswax candle I made this winter. It connected me again with the subtle currents out there – and in there – that can help us swim, if we don’t swim against them.

Yarrow, holding her buds to the light.

Last Sunday, I invited my neighbour to share a comforting cardamom-spiced cocoa: we talked about his work (he is making impressive marionettes for a circus right now), Lola (I need to find a nice cat-sitter within two weeks), flowers (we both planted many this year)… and sick trees.

For this is what happens when a number of humans, instead of inhabiting Earth on an inclusive mode (taking into account other populations, future generations, other species, forests, oceans), chase the elusive illusion of power, thereby putting themselves – and the whole planet – off-balance.

In Montréal alone, 200,000 ash trees – up to one third of our city trees – are threatened by the emerald ash borer, an invasive beetle from Asia that has already killed millions of ash trees in the United States, where it was detected for the first time just fifteen years ago (!). The larvae of these insects create extensive galleries inside the trunk, feeding on the sap until the tree dies.

Opposite branches are one way of identifying an Ash tree, but this one has lost too many.
However the ridged diamond-patterned bark reveals its identity (and age).

Elm trees are severely affected as well by a widespread fungal disease (Dutch Elm Disease, transmitted by another beetle, also invasive). There are several around my home.

Here it is : Saperda Tridentata, known as Elm Borer.
What was this one doing on my friend the Rowan though?

.

Apple trees, Crabapples, Rowans, Hawthorns and the lovely Amelanchier are quite vulnerable these days to various kinds of Apple boring beetles. Several Rowans have recently been invaded on the hill I love to visit, including my dancing friend.

Here is one of them: Saperda Candida, known as Round-headed Appletree Borer.
Pretty, but dangerous. Also, rather ubiquitous, since I photographed this individual on another Rowan.

Typical holes at the base of the trunk. *sigh*

Then last month, our beautiful Crabapple was also, suddenly, attacked in a similar way, while she was still all white with flowers: one full branch became brown and withered in a week. This sight sent an electric shock in my heart, because I knew then that she was already invaded – and now the whole tree is browning in patches. It makes me so sad, and sorry.

Parasites and their hosts usually manage to reach a kind of ‘balance’ (I don’t kill you, so you can still host me). But invasive parasites, suddenly introduced to a new habitat by human actions, don’t respect elementary environmental rules. They are threatening their host’s, and ultimately their own, survival. (Guess who they remind me of?)

Ants and Peonies get along pretty well.

I feel responsible, as a human being, for the imbalance my own species brings to the planet.

Unfortunately, this tends to make me feel helpless and paralyzed.

In this perspective, the essay written by David Loy on Ecobudhism.org was very helpful for me a while ago, so I still come back to it (and to other relevant essays listed on this page, among which Only Love Can Save Us From Climate Change, an inspiring interview with Thich Nhat Hanh) when I am tempted to forget, or to push aside, the reality of our planet today – though it is, of course, my own reality.

Sweet Crabapple, will you keep enchanting my days, in rain or shine, at every season?

Because this reality is mind-boggling and heartbreaking, I can’t face it with my Mind or my Soul alone.

I need to remain connected to my friends the Crabapple and the Rowan, as threatened as they are today (and they might share some wisdom on their own condition). 

I need the soft summer wind’s feather touch on my skin; I need to exchange smiles with the Moon, and winks with the stars.

How do you find your own balance? 

Making a waxed cotton thread necklace for my moonstone pendant. 

Are you sometimes too much in your thoughts for a while, and disconnected from your own life?

How do you manage to make space in your heart for big, serious issues? 

Do you sometimes feel you are holding the whole planet in your hand ?


ps - See also Mary's essay In Communion. It is deeply moving (I read it through my tears).

Spring, Suddenly, So Much

I can hardly believe that only one month has passed since my former post: so much has happened since, if only on the seasonal front – in the past two weeks, Montréal went from late Winter to Summer, then back to Spring.

Silver Maple trees all over town are suddenly turning their tight packages of buds into yellow-green bouquets of flowers, each more perfect and alluring than its distinct, perfect neighbour. They appeared about two days ago, and in a few more days young leaves will be taking over.

By the time I finished writing this post, it was happening already.

And the crabapple that keeps company to my balcony went through the same day-to-day transformation.

For me, the season of growth actually began on March 26th, a few days after this year's auspicious Spring Equinox. The monthly “Kirtan” evening was taking place that very Sunday, and I had good hopes of finding more clues there... So I spent the entire session with my eyes closed and a heart wide open, fully present.

On several occasions during the first hour I felt sadness, fear and doubt rising like a cloud of mud from the bottom of a creek; always the fresh, living river of the sacred song washed them away. And then they were gone.

Throughout the chanting, I was completely immersed in (and actively swimming with) tangible currents of hope, love, trust and strength – which progressively allowed the dispersed particles of my own love, strength and trust to be reunited​ within my own soul…

Together, they settled down in the centre of my body, ​reconstructing my center of gravity.

A steady spring of tenderness was now overflowing my heart and mind. I gratefully began to send it back to my companions, into each loving vowel, each hummed note; I was effortlessly one with my intention.

And slowly, I felt my whole being firmly taking root in unconditional love, like never before.

I have often wished I could be as strong, compassionate and sensitive ​as a tree – yet it remained an inspiration, an image. Human beings are, well, “only human”. Or so they say.

But as the chanting went on, it truly happened: I was now rooted in the powerful, fertile soil of love that lies at the centre of everything.

And just like that, I became aware that I was finally becoming my own tree.

It sounds so simple, but until then I had not known it was possible…

Then I understood (again as a wordless, quiet evidence) that from now on, I would be able to grow any additional limb that was required to become who I am, to embody this tree fully. “Keep growing your roots into the universal love that you are experiencing this evening, and trust the process” was the message I somehow received.

When we are grounded, not only in the present moment, but in the deep interconnectedness that is creating this present moment, we are somehow put in presence of all that is.

Which in turn, or sometimes simultaneously, opens many doors into synchronicity, serendipity, and a deeper awareness.

Two weeks later, I was unexpectedly (?) offered the opportunity to carry this process one step further.

I was evoking the Kirtan experience (in general) to Lorne, a person I had come to really appreciate and trust in the past few months through our discussions at the yoga centre, where he would give occasional Qi Gong workshops. At some point, he mentioned that he is also a practitioner in energetic healing.

The particular presence of this tree reminds me of his personality.

Really? This would certainly be helpful, I thought – I particularly wished to learn how to manifest in a tangible way my energetic field around me, creating a natural shield, so that I could remain open hearted and sensitive (and kind) without appearing as an easy target for some people.

So we scheduled a healing session for the next Sunday.

Then I heard the first American Robin of the year,
though every tree was still bare.
Had I needed another sign, it was singing right there.

Before we started, Lorne said something that immediately made sense to me, a truth I recognized as such on a deep level. 

“If you want to create a positive, effective energetic shield, you need to claim your own space. You need to fill it up from the inside out, to embody all of who you are, exploring your own abilities and talents, trusting yourself. Let your energy circulate freely within your mind and body, let it create its own momentum, let it expand.”

This wonderful, ancient willow greeted me with such tenderness that I was, at once, completely present.

I can’t really describe his clearing, repairing and balancing of my energy centres (or chakras), mainly because I was trying to remain attuned to my perceptions, instead of taking mental notes – but I could definitely perceive the successive changes inside me during the process.

Quercus Robur (English Oak)

Did you know Oaks had such lovely, pale green young leaves and flowers?

Before I left, he gave me a specific breathing exercise to be done a few times daily. He added that some of these changes might lead to some unsettling stages at first, yet it was important to carry them on with faith… 

Much to my own surprise, one of the subtle, significant shifts that have taken place since the healing was obvious from the very next day: I can now be my merry, slightly exuberant self with people in general, not just my friends and family :o)

So far, there had always been an inner, invisible barrier that prevented me to show my whole personality to strangers (or even friendly customers)… as if I was vaguely worried that they might either reject me, or take advantage of me in some way. (Probably because both scenarios were quite real in my teenage/student years).

But now the very opposite is true. I feel warmly welcomed, and this new confidence also sends a positive message regarding my own integrity – something along the lines of “I am happily in charge of/busy with my own life”. 

Scilla siberica. I call them "fées-clochettes", bell-fairies.

I know that the next step, for me, is to let this exuberance and freedom expand within my creative projects  :o)

I have been busy reorganizing and discarding things – while switching my apartment from winter mode to summer mode, which is quite exhilarating. I still have a major paperwork task ahead, I am planning a three-week visit to France this summer, and a translation arrived on my desk yesterday, next to a bird eagerly waiting to be painted.

And this is a sketch of the very first bird announcing Spring in Montréal, in early April: the Red-winged Blackbird. 
You can see here that instead of using black, I simply build on layers of colours until I reach a rich, dark tone.
I call this a labor of love :o)

Last but not least, Spring is here, suddenly, so much.

I have recently spent blissful hours on my beloved hill, witnessing, pondering, scribbling in a notebook.

And through all of this, I am growing into my own tree.

Can you feel it, too? The merry, tender exuberance of the season, taking hold of your human heart?