internal architecture

a breath between

waking, and

the dream.

between heartbeats.

between heartbeats.

abandon that seam

holding disparate the pieces...

the now and then.

the here and there.

the you.

the me.

it's all in your mind...

Beginner's Mind is a term we often hear, one to remind serious yogis to get a little less serious. To drop the pretense, the showiness, the I'm-All-That-Asana. To soften up and let down their guard. To find the ease--the play--within their yogic work.

Directed at true beginners, it helps take the pressure off, assuring them that we're all in this together. That no one's holding them to an unattainable standard.

But Beginner's Mind is really simply a reminder to stay in the Now--for everyone. To lose the I-Should-Have, the I-Could-Have's. To stop worrying about what happened yesterday, what could happen tomorrow. To recognize that everyday is a new day (on the mat or off) and we need to meet that newness with an equally fresh attitude--a beginning.

Of course we start with the breath--because there's no better way to get present than to focus on the breath. Your last breath can't sustain you; your future breath holds no promise. Only this breath--this one right now--is the inhale, the exhale, that matters. The current breath that is prana's currency.

We expand with the potential of the breath and get receptive in the outer skin. We stay open...wide open...and invite a surprise.

In the Now, there's no blame, no regret, no expectation, no judgement. There is only what we are doing, what we are feeling.

And this is the true irony of Beginner's Mind: it's really not about mind at all. Rather, you get out of your head and into the rest of your body, into your senses. You smell yourself. You taste yourself.

Our view of the past, our vision of the future, these are carried in the mind. Our senses, though, deliver us the moment. When listening, smelling, feeling, "now" becomes a verb, a process--like art.

And this is where we live.

divining the future...

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here? asked Alice.

That depends a great deal on where you want to get to, said the Cat.

It doesn't much matter where-- said Alice.

Then it doesn't matter which way you go, said the Cat.

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

As our calendar pages flip resolutely from December 2009 to January 2010, we are confronted with a choice. A Choice. Continue business as usual. A just-another-day-in-a-long-line-of-days kind of thing (as the old saw goes: many people look forward to the New Year for a new start on old habits.) And the alternative? Use this admittedly random moment as a metaphor for the Fork in the Road.

Sure, in some ways it's just another day. But as a society, we mark the day in red (it's a national holiday, after all), give it a new number. We clean it up, brush it off, and call it 01.01. Since it's all dressed up in Red Letters, why not take it out on the town?

Named for the Roman god Janus--the god of portals, of beginnings and ends, a double-headed deity who looked over one shoulder into history, and forward to the future--much as we all do, most of the time. One of Janus' faces turned westward as the day ended, another watched dawn break in the East. And in his hand, he held a key. Symbolizing our perch on the threshold, the key is our capacity to unlock a door to the future, to make ourselves at home there.

New Year's Day. 01.01. Spotless as a fresh sheet of paper, begging for inscription. Vivid as a heartbeat on a first date. Do something special with it: decide to call it a Fork in the Road, and we offer ourselves an opportunity. A Choice.

Teetering unsteadily at this threshold, we peer down the shadowy alleys of foregone days and their foregone conclusions, and into the twinkling white light of the future--a city of promise.

To map our path, like the double-headed god, we must be of two minds: embrace our subjective desires, while simultaneously examining our goals. Employing a scathing objectivity, we consider where we are, where we'd like to go, and how we might get there. Determining your future isn't exactly MapQuest material, is it?

Who do you want to be? What do you want? How much do you want it? Gaze deeply within the crystal ball of your own mind, so that you may create not only a future perfect, but divine.

And just so you know, Janus doesn't carry the key. You hold that key in your own hand.

PS. If by chance you missed the magic of 01.01, don't despair: the future begins again each day, each day.

Shine On!

The fulcrum between accumulating darkness and the return of the light, winter solstice wields an unrestrained potency. As with so many of our celebrations--birthdays, anniversaries, even school reunions--we hesitate and recognize the passage of time.

But unlike these personal milestones, the solstice is shared by us all. It's a communal event, as we witness dawn tarrying day by day. As shadows gather, folding around us like heavy curtains, that feeling of being slightly cheated by the waning daylight is mutual.

Throughout our adult lives, we glance back anxiously, watching as childhood fades, as doors close. We see time as relentless, maybe even heartless, on its grim march. Did we miss an opportunity? Should we have, could we have...?

Instead of a time line, the solstice reminds us of nature's cycles: time spins a whorl, graceful as a seashell. It offers up the hospitality of an open door. If we hop softly over that threshold--buoyed by hope--and allow some uncomfortable baggage to remain behind, we find our heart is feather-light, the future ablaze with potential.

Carry only what you need for the days ahead, when the glow advances back into our lives, welcome and warm. Let optimism abide in your heart. Let your eyes see the possibilities.

Celebrate the solstice with friends, to remember that the dark times are easier to bear with the reassurance of a supportive arm. When the light around us fades, we need to amp up our own power, shine our own light a bit brighter. Then watch gratefully as the world emerges from the shadows into radiance once again.