night sit with the dog.
light, misty rain. cool weather, rain dripping off branches onto melting snow, darkness, the perfect playground for the senses.
i've found that i am able to awaken my senses much more effectively when i do the body scan first (tuning in to feet, calves, knees, etc. - up to the head). i don't wake up as much if i try to just jump into my senses without tuning in to my whole body first. also, i've been experimenting to determine if there is a certain order of my senses that works best for me - whether starting with my sense that is most alert at the time and progressing on toward the sense that is the most asleep (or vice versa) works better than following a set order.
i've also discovered that when i tune in to my hearing, i have a particular way of "cheating" that really diminishes how much i am able to hear. i've been working at awakening my hearing by first listening to what is to my left, then in front, to my right, behind, above, and below. my shortcut that i catch myself doing sometimes is that i do a very quick scan beforehand and determine a select few of the loudest sounds; then, when i actually start to go through the different directions, i am initially ONLY able to hear those sounds that i heard quickly on my cheat scan. it takes a suprising amount of effort to open up my hearing and discard those expectations so that i can then actually hear ALL of the sounds in each direction. when i make this effort, i always catch three or four noises around me that are quite obvious, but which i hadn't been able to hear because they hadn't made it into my initial scan.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Day 30!, Sunday, March 30
day sit with the boy and the dog. my last challenge day.
sunny, warm in the 40's. very gentle breeze that occasionally sent chunks of ice careening down from my pine and the ones around it onto the warm pine needles below. they gave the impression of hail in the summertime: ice falling suddenly and strangely onto warm earth.
scent of the pine needles came up strong at times, delicious in the sun. watched the very edge of the snowfield with owl eyes for a while to see the snow crystals melting, but i barely saw one crumble. is it so slow as to be imperceptible?
winter is retreating into the shadows.
sunny, warm in the 40's. very gentle breeze that occasionally sent chunks of ice careening down from my pine and the ones around it onto the warm pine needles below. they gave the impression of hail in the summertime: ice falling suddenly and strangely onto warm earth.
scent of the pine needles came up strong at times, delicious in the sun. watched the very edge of the snowfield with owl eyes for a while to see the snow crystals melting, but i barely saw one crumble. is it so slow as to be imperceptible?
winter is retreating into the shadows.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Day 29, Saturday, March 29
morning sit with the boy.
very cold today, lower 20's with a brisk wind. just a few clouds in the blue skies.
it felt that the world was very busy outside during my sit: cars and wind give a lot of activity. dusting of snow last night, so each gust of wind sent down a light snowfall, drifting through the branches. it felt just like being on the top of a mountain to ski in winter, cold coldness all around, snow in the eyes, wind whooshing all around everything.
snow from yesterday remains, so most of the earth is white again. walking through the yard, i travel over (and posthole through) fascinating mountains and valleys of snow over land that i know to be flat beneath. it's like being in a different landscape. my husband and i have conjectured that the sculptures are the result of runoff zones underneath; as the snow melts, it finds the lowest areas of ground to run to, which causes the snow above it to melt more quickly, being in contact with water beneath. up close, it doesn't form patterns like streambeds in the snow; it simply looks like a mountainous landscape. it is only from afar, and only this winter, that an overall pattern of a meandering stream emerges. it's lovely to see this ancient waterway appearing on the surface of a yard - the land reasserting its original and lasting personality in the middle of a tidy "lawn."
the blackberry stems are showing their proud little buds, so tiny and promising and pointed towards the sky.
mind kept wandering rather than remaining in my senses, so i pretended i was crow prey, which helped to wake me up, since i could be discovered at any moment. i then stood quite still, alert, for quite some time, moving only my eyes to focus on something now and then. when i did move, i knew i needed to do it imperceptibly lest i give myself away. i distinctly felt that my extra helping at breakfast had not been a good idea, as it made me feel a little sluggish and compromised my ability to make a speedy escape. after a little bit, i then decided that the chickadees around me were my prey - and i found myself paying very close attention to where they were all the time, and which branches they frequented.
just about done with my 30 day challenge. i feel like i already completed it back around day 18, because the third week of the challenge was definitely my most trying time. now i'm quite dedicated to sitting, so it doesn't take as much effort to get out there. and i'm very much looking forward to the coming warm weather, when i won't have to bundle us both all up before going out!
very cold today, lower 20's with a brisk wind. just a few clouds in the blue skies.
it felt that the world was very busy outside during my sit: cars and wind give a lot of activity. dusting of snow last night, so each gust of wind sent down a light snowfall, drifting through the branches. it felt just like being on the top of a mountain to ski in winter, cold coldness all around, snow in the eyes, wind whooshing all around everything.
snow from yesterday remains, so most of the earth is white again. walking through the yard, i travel over (and posthole through) fascinating mountains and valleys of snow over land that i know to be flat beneath. it's like being in a different landscape. my husband and i have conjectured that the sculptures are the result of runoff zones underneath; as the snow melts, it finds the lowest areas of ground to run to, which causes the snow above it to melt more quickly, being in contact with water beneath. up close, it doesn't form patterns like streambeds in the snow; it simply looks like a mountainous landscape. it is only from afar, and only this winter, that an overall pattern of a meandering stream emerges. it's lovely to see this ancient waterway appearing on the surface of a yard - the land reasserting its original and lasting personality in the middle of a tidy "lawn."
the blackberry stems are showing their proud little buds, so tiny and promising and pointed towards the sky.
mind kept wandering rather than remaining in my senses, so i pretended i was crow prey, which helped to wake me up, since i could be discovered at any moment. i then stood quite still, alert, for quite some time, moving only my eyes to focus on something now and then. when i did move, i knew i needed to do it imperceptibly lest i give myself away. i distinctly felt that my extra helping at breakfast had not been a good idea, as it made me feel a little sluggish and compromised my ability to make a speedy escape. after a little bit, i then decided that the chickadees around me were my prey - and i found myself paying very close attention to where they were all the time, and which branches they frequented.
just about done with my 30 day challenge. i feel like i already completed it back around day 18, because the third week of the challenge was definitely my most trying time. now i'm quite dedicated to sitting, so it doesn't take as much effort to get out there. and i'm very much looking forward to the coming warm weather, when i won't have to bundle us both all up before going out!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Day 28, Friday, March 28
afternoon sit with the boy and the dog.
gentle rain falling as we sat. three new inches of snow today, covering the eastern half of the trees' bare grounds, announcing the earlier wind's direction. the new snow is wet, loose, and heavy now; most of the tree limbs have already shaken it to the ground.
startled a low-perching bird as we approached the sit spot. fairly large, wings whistled like a dove's, but something about it didn't look dove-like as it flew away - couldn't see any white on the tail, which i think i can usually.
water on snow sounded like rice crispies, the gentle crackling and popping (and snapping too, okay, yes).
a truck slammed on its breaks in front of the neighbor boy's house, backed up furiously, then pulled into their driveway. i watched through the trees, mildly concerned, as a man approached the door, then saw that he was delivering a pizza.
moments later, before he reached his car, i smelled warm oil on the breeze. it was thrilling to have my sense of smell - one of my most subtle senses - tell me what had just happened, even from such a distance. if i had been asked whether i would be able to smell pizza from their house even with the wind carrying the smell directly towards me, i wouldn't have thought so. this really awakened my other senses, as it suddenly reminded me of how important they all are, how each one - even the weaker ones - can clue me in to what's happening or has happened around me.
gentle rain falling as we sat. three new inches of snow today, covering the eastern half of the trees' bare grounds, announcing the earlier wind's direction. the new snow is wet, loose, and heavy now; most of the tree limbs have already shaken it to the ground.
startled a low-perching bird as we approached the sit spot. fairly large, wings whistled like a dove's, but something about it didn't look dove-like as it flew away - couldn't see any white on the tail, which i think i can usually.
water on snow sounded like rice crispies, the gentle crackling and popping (and snapping too, okay, yes).
a truck slammed on its breaks in front of the neighbor boy's house, backed up furiously, then pulled into their driveway. i watched through the trees, mildly concerned, as a man approached the door, then saw that he was delivering a pizza.
moments later, before he reached his car, i smelled warm oil on the breeze. it was thrilling to have my sense of smell - one of my most subtle senses - tell me what had just happened, even from such a distance. if i had been asked whether i would be able to smell pizza from their house even with the wind carrying the smell directly towards me, i wouldn't have thought so. this really awakened my other senses, as it suddenly reminded me of how important they all are, how each one - even the weaker ones - can clue me in to what's happening or has happened around me.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Day 27, Thursday, March 27
daylight sit with the boy.
breeze from south. chickadees welcomed us out.
so much color on the ground now - pine needles, dead grass, dead branches and twigs, mullein, soil - showing up amidst the snow. it feels like the whole personality of the world comes out as the snow melts and exposes it. i may know what's under all the snow mounds and snow plains, but to see it emerge after all these months shocks me; i'm so accustomed to just seeing white, white, white.
walking later today, i had the gift of seeing a flock of bohemian waxwings feeding on insects on a tree. they would flit over to the trunk to pluck them off, then land on a branch briefly, then flit back for more. i imagine they're the same insects i've been noticing in abundance all spring. will look them up soon. saw bohemians in our yard last month, cedar waxwings came through last year and the year before at this time of year.
breeze from south. chickadees welcomed us out.
so much color on the ground now - pine needles, dead grass, dead branches and twigs, mullein, soil - showing up amidst the snow. it feels like the whole personality of the world comes out as the snow melts and exposes it. i may know what's under all the snow mounds and snow plains, but to see it emerge after all these months shocks me; i'm so accustomed to just seeing white, white, white.
walking later today, i had the gift of seeing a flock of bohemian waxwings feeding on insects on a tree. they would flit over to the trunk to pluck them off, then land on a branch briefly, then flit back for more. i imagine they're the same insects i've been noticing in abundance all spring. will look them up soon. saw bohemians in our yard last month, cedar waxwings came through last year and the year before at this time of year.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Day 26, Wednesday, March 26
proper sit tonight, first in many days. twilight, with the boy.
recognized tonight that the majority of our winds here are coming from the northwest. does this change with the seasons? do these winds bring a particular kind of weather? new things to learn.
the bare ground beneath the trees looks like moon shadows. the larger the pine, the larger the bare patch beneath it. a result simply of the branches channelling snow away, or because of the warm shelter the pines offer at their base as well, melting the snow more quickly?
outside a lot with the boy today, the most so far in this life for him. he is so alert outdoors, just looking and looking, feeling, listening, absorbing. (and then, invariably, sleeping deeply on my shoulder.) he can go for great lengths of time silently perched over my shoulder or snuggled in my coat with a view out. like a little tree himself, perfectly suited to just be in nature, asking for nothing but to be, growing quietly.
walking on the earth tonight, i could feel its give. imagined mole/vole channels collapsing beneath my weight in the soft earth.
recognized tonight that the majority of our winds here are coming from the northwest. does this change with the seasons? do these winds bring a particular kind of weather? new things to learn.
the bare ground beneath the trees looks like moon shadows. the larger the pine, the larger the bare patch beneath it. a result simply of the branches channelling snow away, or because of the warm shelter the pines offer at their base as well, melting the snow more quickly?
outside a lot with the boy today, the most so far in this life for him. he is so alert outdoors, just looking and looking, feeling, listening, absorbing. (and then, invariably, sleeping deeply on my shoulder.) he can go for great lengths of time silently perched over my shoulder or snuggled in my coat with a view out. like a little tree himself, perfectly suited to just be in nature, asking for nothing but to be, growing quietly.
walking on the earth tonight, i could feel its give. imagined mole/vole channels collapsing beneath my weight in the soft earth.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Day 25, Tuesday, March 25
brief night sit with the boy.
chill breeze moving over the land and through the treetops, like a visitor. bits of ice or frozen leaves tinkling as they skate over the crusty snow. bare ground, warm some days now, is cold and hard again.
all the blankets bundled about the little one didn't protect my back and arms from the cold. the harshness of the world means a lot more when we're exposed to it directly.
chill breeze moving over the land and through the treetops, like a visitor. bits of ice or frozen leaves tinkling as they skate over the crusty snow. bare ground, warm some days now, is cold and hard again.
all the blankets bundled about the little one didn't protect my back and arms from the cold. the harshness of the world means a lot more when we're exposed to it directly.
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