Hut Trip - Thanksgiving 2010 - Minimal Adventure as Four

Indeeeeeed. Shrine Mountain Inn. Jay's Cabin. Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Cross country skied in (well most of us) with turkey, stuffing, squash, green beans, tons of eggs, oatmeal, brie, spinach, loaves of bread, condiments, winter gear, more warm stuff, slippers, bedding, ingredients for a French apple tart, for God's sake! Jay's cabin is an accommodating place for families with kids -- running water, flushing toilets, comfy mattresses, plenty of windows, nice dishes, wood for the fire. The four of us and two other families made this gorgeous spot up off Vail Pass our home for the weekend. I'm so glad we went. Maybe too glad, like I couldn't sleep glad. Or maybe I just can't sleep at 11,500 feet.

This was my first hut trip. Phoebe is 9 months old and Willoree 4 years old and although I'm used to things taking time, effort, etc. because adventure for four is such work when you get to the work part of it, I am still somewhat in awe at how much planning this ordeal took. I'm not very good at planning, but I enjoyed it anyways.

I don't particularly enjoy getting ready for car camping (which we do a fair amount of), or cooking/packing for festival weekends (annually, at least,) but -- staring at our strange Tetris-y piles of gear, used backpacks, goggles, etc. all over the house -- I came to enjoy planning this hut trip. The newness? Or maybe the immense challenge of wearing or dragging everything your family will need for three days up a long hill? Boundaries and edges, in all creative pursuits, make the processes more magical and interesting. Here I admit that I'm an editor, I love editing. Mostly other people's stuff. A bad habit -- ? I guess I have that kind of editing, revisionist, let me tell you what you just said in my own words kind of mind, even though I write unedited blogs like this one in a chop chop block annoying style and they're very run on sentence-y and probably choreful to read. Also I have gained a renewed appreciation for the guys in A Walk in the Woods.

We are a CO family of four and we hadn't gone up to the huts yet! And now that's all changed. I hope this trip to Shrine Mountain is the first of many. I cherish great adventures into the quiet, snowy CO beauty that sticks it to my heart and soul every time. I am growing more in love with Colorado as the years pass. I sing here, Colorado sings back.

Photos below.

 

Thanksgiving meal arrival night. We didn't have to carry the cast iron. Man that stuffing looks good.

 

Leland kind of altitude weary, but that doesn't stop little children from pestering him but then looking real cute.

 

Ina Garten loves this dessert, too. I could crunch a Granny Smith right now!

 

Baby Fatima.

Willoree and Rowan.

 

Bob is alseep. He's generally very agro CO active.

 

My dream is to have a wood stove, otherwise this is like the old lady who had those shoes in the nursery rhyme or something.

 

Lelend feeling better, picks up book to read to children under blue sleeping bag with logs behind heads.

 

Porch drops off into where the skis are parked.

 

The trail coming up to Jay's cabin. This is a lot of snow for November. I want to be snow when I grow up.

 

Welcome wagon shot.

 

Where I would have liked to have spent the entire trip, basically. The fired stoked and soon the room hit 185 degrees. Swank!

 

Footprints in the sand. God is here, too.

 

And here. 

 

And there, especially in that old skool metal can that says "ashes only".

 

The path to someplace that's also pretty.

Crane your neck or these children will fall down the blog!

 

Dream, dream.

 

Ella Rowan and Willoree.

 

Alpenglow (from German: Alpenglühen) is an optical phenomenon. When the Sun is just below the horizon, a horizontal red glowing band can sometimes be observed on the opposite horizon. Alpenglow is easiest to observe when mountains are illuminated but can also be observed when the sky is illuminated through backscattering.

Since the Sun is below the horizon, there is no direct path for the light to reach the mountain. Instead, light reflects off airborne snow, water, or ice particles low in the atmosphere. It is this circumstance that separates a normal sunrise or sunset from alpenglow.

Although the term may be loosely applied to any sunrise or sunset light seen on the mountains, true alpenglow is not direct sunlight and is only observed after sunset or before sunrise.

In the absence of mountains, the aerosols in the eastern portion of the sky can be illuminated in the same way by the remaining red scattered light straddling the border of the Earth's own shadow (the terminator). This back-scattered light produces a red band opposite the Sun.

The above Wiki courtesy www.

 

The active Bob, with a snow head.

 

A portrait. 

 

Nice chatty and comfortable set up. I liked that this hut didn't have a ton of stuff, per se, but the stuff it did have was nice. And useful. And of excellent condition and quality.

 

Well shit! It's a bananagram! 

 

I made a fort /cage for Phoebe with materials and furniture from the downstairs room.

 

Willoree has begun to smile sans showing teeth. Not Rowan! I do love these two so very much.

 

Oats for the little birdies.

 

Me and my whatever looking that way close up?

 

Peace and trekking thank god it was downhill most of the way home. 

 

Sorry, shadowed children in the sled are hard to peep in on. There are two girls in there. They did great.

------------

Merci, bonne nuit, la hut! Le turkey? Oui, je ne sais pas du frommage!! On y va, et alors, tout de suite les femmes des apres bon visage en la mache prix!! Eh eh eh, plus de Chatres.

Fin.

I swear; she does not.

Mama, is yummy yummy in my tummy a bad word? Well, kid, I know the days of this brand of innocence are numbered and to your question I reply no. And we leave it be.

Worth the 20 minutes, over and over again.

Brene Brown's TEDTalk. Little gift that keeps on giving. I really like her a whole bunch!

Mathematics, etc.

The heat is on in my little office corner. It's a dark-ish fall day, a lovely day, but a day of quiet contemplation that reeks of a dying season.

It's a day that in earlier times would have made me sad. Today I don't feel sad, though. I'm drinking that old school tea called Good Earth, which reminds me of my Rolfer, Rob McWilliams. The little tea tag sayings are remarkable because they haven't yet adopted the typical aphorisms of yoga, or spiritual quips or anything like that (well, I guess I drink a lot of Yogi tea; never mind.) These tags quote sports figures, and scientists and novelists. But it's all kind of the same. People that have good, honest things to offer via mouth have good, honest things to offer via mouth...

Today's reads:

"In mathematics you don't understand things. You get used to them." – Johann von Neumann

Same same in spiritual practice. And, oh, what's that word that describes the idea that all intellectual or philosophical endeavors eventually pinnacle up and beg the same questions, and or get at the same truth?

There have been a handful of weird things happening in the flurry that is my life over the past few months...it's not that I understand them all, per se -- what's to understand -- but I'm getting used to them. And I'm not getting quite as ruffled as I once got. Things arise, I look at them, I consult the spiritual Casio (fx-260 SOLAR I probably picked up in 11th grade) take a good look at myself, the flurry dissolves. Love and a creak more into self understanding remains. For now, it's that easy.

I finally finished a really nice piece of jewelry -- a mala -- that I am enjoying wearing. It was quite the little trip, making her. Broke once, had to be restrung four or five times; far too many employees at the Bead Store in Longmont were in on its final construction (thank you, thank you.) My vision worsened, too, because beading is so little and so insanely meh meh meh. Beaders are truly a crazy group of people. (The guys on Car Talk think so, too, oddly enough. They talked to a beader once and they talked more about the craziness of beaders than her Pontiac, or whatever.) Anyway. I digress.

The making of this sweet necklace demanded my total, full attention and deliberate action, over and over again. Such a great reminder around my neck. She is handy, beautiful and feels nice. Self-discipline. Phoebe uses it as a teething thing; let's hope another galactic bead doesn't shear off and choke the poor girl. The necklace reminds me of my dear friend and yoga teacher,  Isha, and of long trips to India that I haven't taken.

The Fluorite apparently helps negate pixel dust's negative ju ju, as well bring order and healing to body, mind, subtle energetic fields...it feels tonifying and illuminating. I might make more of these. I want to. I have a mala in mind for my dearest Tallresa Teresa who's galavanting about in Nigeria this month. I miss her. We used to visit art museums, crystal shops, stare into piles of shells at the beach...we'd stare at these cases full of pottery, gems, mixed metal media, geode slices...whatever...and ask each other, in all seriousness: "which are you, which am I?" This took hours! Our answers were so right on. Sometimes we were surprised at our assessments of one another, but we always came to understand the analysis.

This ability to recognize myself in all things has been being groomed for years, years, lifetimes. It's easier at times than others: I am Ghandi. I am my newborn baby. I am that cute caterpillar...but in some matters I guess you can't cherry pick when it's true; it either is or it is not.

So I am that I am so ham I am green eggs and so ham, I am. Blabber blabber blabber.

It's a nice, fall day. Let it die, you. Let it die, me! Whatever it is: light the fire and let it fall to the ground and be done with it. There will probably be more tomorrow, I rest assured.

Grasshopping Takes Over Longmont, the Boot Scoot Should RISE Up and Kick Them OUT of my Way

Why oh why...

I stepped on a HUGE ass hopper today on my walk home from Willoree's school. It was light green, 3" long – at least. It actually mounded under my foot as would a large rock...it also splatted up its light green death juice up on my shin and I screamed. It was really gross, and I am sorry to report that I don't think I love that someone likened me to a grasshopper a few weeks ago.

Why, oh why are there so MANY FUCKING grasshoppers around this summer? It's a never ending fireworks explosion of grasshoppers at every step. Dear God. What is this all mean?!

My BBF Teresa and I discuss, as we do all things, some grasshoppers. In an email:

imma try to share n expose the cute side of Grasshopper.

rhymes with grandmother.

see the cute front arms gently coddle-holding the delicate stem?

see the middle legs nice and open, like triangle pose, with smurf clap pose on the gentle stem?

and the rear leg – reminds me of a keith ellis pant and thigh, or maybe air jordan sweatpant.

mother of pearling on the bodice.

a frightening side-eye!!

and see the radar 'tennae on that head?
a pupal sac of body mass grub.

(wow i see what you mean)...

like a Trek mountain bike:  http://www.animalpictures1.com/postcard.img1115.htm

like a Grandpa gypsy: http://www.ponderstorm.com/2010/02/24/two-versions-of-the-ant-and-the-grasshopper/

you are only similarly strong in leg and fast in lighting upon the flower of life.  and you have great peripheral vision of the aquarian way...

LOVE

If you are not linking to the above, you non-linkers, here are Trek Mountain bike variety, old grandpa gypsy and the WOW one that gave Teresa realization of my ih woes (that one's about actual size), respectively.

Mother Nature knows best. Maybe I'll just get over myself and eat some, really get WITH the hoppers. Oh god, I am feeling the internal gnarl rising UP.

Little Mama, Don't you Love Her?

 

Love to my mother, pictured above, and her brother Terry. Love to THE mother. Aren't we all trying to just eat her up and become her, over and over again? Fathers, too. Good times.

We are Two, We Are One, Nicho Mini Mexican Folk Art

Happy Anniversary to Ben and me! Two years. Feels longer...all good.

We wore cotton as per tradition, almost; we ate American; I gave Mexican, I used glitter in an art project, which I think is universal; the love was noted as galactic and beyond; and here we are already in our third year.

So I made Ben a mini nicho. I love folk art very much. I especially love Japanese packaging (food, etc.); African textiles and Mexican Day of the Dead stuff. So I fashioned a mini nicho for Ben, all wrapped up in mid-century sheet music (Corazon, anyone?) from Spain. The lotus up top is from a photo at Angela's lake house in MI. The eye is the I; the we is the we; the background is part sheet music (reads: "And your eyes told me all was well") and a colorful, nice looking piece of trash I found at Angie's house. There's a little bird hiding up top under the lotus, couldn't resist. The coiled wire is in homage to Kundalini; the screws are both screws and allusions to the metaphor of construction, which was heavy heavy at our wedding, and remains a decent way to consider the marriage and being married.

Foundation seems to be key. And good contractors.

I like that from "trash" -- valued, not, what IS trash anyways? -- comes bloom. I like that from bloom comes "eye", comes I. I comes we comes I. I like that from the tangled mess of coil, screw and lowest layers come stalk, stem and support for thousand petaled openings.

I mostly like the way this petite art project turned out. I am excited to make more, and from a strictly aesthetic stance, the more I make the less cluttery they will look. This is my hope. I'm forever fighting clutter. And I don't like seeing it creep into my designs, either. As within, so without, I attest. But oh yes! Less is often more.

But of course we got dessert. And giggled at the big bill presented to us al final.

We noted that we have spent the year heavily invested in my pregnancy, our new daughter, and a lot of individually tailored delvings...and while it was less focused on "marriage" per se than parenting, or growth, or ?, it ends up that the work isn't wasted, or lost, or diluted. We become stronger because of it all.

And I suppose being alive, being married, having a mess of kids, etc. etc. we do indeed get it all.

Must keep getting used to this. Life is indeed a prayer. Blessings to all of you who bless us! We have a box of them handwritten on origami paper from the ceremony, shining down on our dining table. And it is good...

Mind Your Manners, Or Don't.

Table Manners, in particular.

And what role do they play in the modern or not so modern family? In my family? Manners are conventional. We all operate from conventions. Some staggering stat I read said that people operate from our subconscious minds roughly 96% of the time. That means that only 4% of what we do, say, how we act, react, respond is "clear" for lack of a better word. (A discussion of that could be its own  little project.) But seriously, that's insane. I'd bet that manners are among the things that we value just because someone else who had influence over us at an earlier time valued them.

Why do some people require manners so hard? Who are these people (besides my grandparents and my Dad?) Who are manners really for -- seems always the other people at the proverbial table. So I don't get it, but yet I like manners. I feel like they're valuable. I appreciate and use (most of the time) "good" manners, or I try to. I even have gone so far as to lightly judge (?) people around me to don't -- which is perhaps the uglier side of the "nice", social convention. There are things that to this day (and because of my grandmother's sneering disapproval) annoy me in restaurants. It doesn't bother me that my daughter reaches across the table for more bread, per se, but I notice it...for better or for worse.

Do manners become outdated? Or are classic manners just that -- never to die or change. Maybe there's value in their antiquity? A New vs. Old Money-like stigma, if you will. Do they bring us closer together, or make us feel ostracized from one another? Classism? Elitism? Middle Class-itis?

For me they are an easy and interesting target. I keep my "manners" in my back pocket and use when necessary. I hadn't given much thought to manners until recently when my dad got somewhat annoyed at a restaurant at Willoree's not using nice table manners. She was eating a spaghetti noodle with her fingers. She's four. When asked to use a fork, she asked Why? And my dad's answer?

Because I said so.

OK. So that tells me nothing and so much all at the same time.

I am certain that manners are more or less benign things, but they have some serious potential to trigger deeper, uglier, more loaded emotions I've suddenly been confronted with. This is interesting to me. I'd like to know more from you, my dear readers. Please pass the the commentary.

The above photos are of my grandparents, Bess and Walker Geitner, on a trip to Egypt ca. 1955.

This post is dedicated to Willoree, my 4 year old daughter who named this horse (and so many other things) Lucy. I love Willoree so much. She's on her way to NC for a week-long trip with her grandparents. How very grown up of her! How very sweet my soul feels. Thank you, Tom and Sheila, for making magic happen...over and over again.

I opine in haiku form, apparently all the rage (?):

Blue horizon bucks
We laugh, crane necks; the Mazda
wants also to buck.

And the red, weird eyes?
Inquiring, seeing us.
Making us miss turns.

--------------------

Taken from an old NYT post,
March 2, 2009

And Behold a Big Blue Horse? Many in Denver Just Say Neigh

By KIRK JOHNSON

DENVER — Airports can be tense and testy places in the best of times. At Denver International Airport, you can add glow-in-the-dark eyes to the list of triggers for a traveler’s angst.

A statue of a giant male horse — electric-eyed, cobalt blue and anatomically correct — was installed in February 2008 on the roadway approach to the terminal, and it is freaking more than a few people out.

(My emphasis) Haters of this work say that “Blue Mustang,” as it is formally known, by the artist Luis Jiménez (killed in 2006 when a section of the 9,000-pound fiberglass statue fell on him during construction), is frightening, or cursed by its role in Mr. Jiménez’s death, or both. Supporters say the 32-foot-tall horse is a triumph, if only as a declaration of Denver’s courage to go beyond easy-listening-style airport art that many cities use like visual Dramamine to soothe travelers’ nerves.

Love it or loathe it, though, “Blue Mustang” is doing what art is supposed to do — get attention. There’s even a poetry slam planned in Denver to read horse haikus, of which about 250 have been composed, believe it or not.

“It’s definitely achieved its purpose of being memorable,” said Rachel Hultin, a real-estate broker in Denver who started a page on Facebook last month to vent her horse anxieties, byebyebluemustang.com, and found herself at the center of the debate.

Ms. Hultin, who said she started the campaign partly on a whim, “after a few drinks with friends,” also suggested on her page that people post comments in haiku form. Denver residents and travelers who had formed an opinion about the statue while passing through, leapt at the challenge. To wit:

Anxiously I fly
apocalyptic hell beast
fails to soothe my nerves.

Local artists and city public art administrators say “Blue Mustang” has stirred a deeper debate too, about Denver itself, and what sort of image it wants to communicate. Is “Blue Mustang” an echo of the city’s high-plains bronco-busting past? Or a mocking denunciation of the Old West conventions? Or is it just strange?

“People can’t put their finger on what’s it’s conveying,” said Joni Palmer, who is finishing a doctoral dissertation on politics and public art in Denver. “It’s the strangeness that really unnerves people — this mix of things.” As another of the haiku writers put it:

Big blue horse beckons
Fiery, red eyes glowering
Good bye one horse town.

The airport’s public-art administrator, Matt Chasansky, said airport settings carry fundamentally different psychological baggage than ordinary urban spaces. Like most public art in Denver, he said, the statue was paid for by developers who are required to contribute 1 percent of the cost of major capital projects to public art.

“We don’t want the work to convey things that would make people uncomfortable about flying,” Mr. Chasansky said. No art, for example, would be commissioned with a violent theme. But art that is too soothing, he said, is probably in the end just bad art.

“Quality works of public art are not the works that are completely gentle,” he said. Yet the specific setting of “Blue Mustang” has evolved since it was commissioned in the 1990s, changing how the work is perceived.

The original design called for a pull-off from the airport road, with benches and ample room to contemplate the statue from all angles. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, however, the parking area idea was shelved for security reasons.

That makes “Blue Mustang” literally unapproachable: most viewers zoom by, perhaps retaining only a vague impression. The barriers to approach, artists and art critics say, have compounded the piece’s troubles, making it seem even more forbidding by virtue of isolation.

“There’s no location to be able to get intimate with the work,” said Lawrence Argent, an artist in Denver. “It’s a vista from afar, and to many it’s a frightening vista from afar.”

Mr. Argent knows about distant vistas — and outsize animals too. He is best known in Denver for creating a two-story blue bear that peers into a window of the Colorado Convention Center, called “I See What You Mean.” Last fall he received a commission for an installation at Sacramento International Airport in California for a 56-foot-long red rabbit. When the piece is installed as part of a planned airport expansion, the fiberglass rabbit will appear to be leaping through the terminal into a giant suitcase.

Ms. Hultin, meanwhile, who got the ball rolling with her antihorse Facebook page, has changed her mind. She no longer wants “Blue Mustang” removed, as she once did. (City policy holds that public art pieces are left in place for five years, anyway, and officials have given no sign of budging.)

She now thinks that pamphlets at the airport, and maybe education courses for airport bus drivers, could lead viewers into a deeper understanding of the horse and the artist, she said, notwithstanding that she had been called “every name in the book” by defenders of the statue.

“In the process of being personally attacked through e-mail, and through learning more about the piece, I’ve shifted gears from, ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate,’ to ‘Let’s try and understand it,’ ” she said.

But the controversy has also stirred up people in other ways. Conspiracies have floated around the Internet for years about secret bunkers or caverns beneath the terminals at the Denver airport. Symbols of Freemasonry are also said to abound on airport floors and walls.

“It’s brought out the conspiracy theorists who think there are aliens living under the airport,” said Patricia Calhoun, the editor of Westword, an alternative weekly paper in Denver that is helping organize a “Blue Mustang” poetry slam in April to share horse haiku as part of National Poetry Month.

Showa - Era - Japanese

I went to bed last night in a quiet mood.

There is something -- perhaps everything -- about this Showa era Japanese anthology I'm reading which quiets the mind while stirring the senses. I was able to relate in my own little ways: seeing childhood home besotted with another family's improvements, life force, the sounds of their pets, their weird vegetable gardens, e.g.

This anthology is largely comprised of sensitive and often marginalized authors who lived through Japan's (misnamed?) era of "enlightenment and peace" and took slices of what they saw and blew them up into 15, 19-page stories. Women writers, too, included in this selection.

The bee of my mind is engrossed, four stories in, I want to go to Tokyo to see my brother one day.

Willoree and the Mermaid

Willoree just asked me, "did you know that there was a Mermaid Freakout in the world?"

I said no. But I am intrigued.

Steamboat Springs Camping

To my fellow Americans: Happy July of the Four! We love BP.

Willoree is learning to ride a bike; we all got sunburned and were surrounded SURROUNDED by the love songs that only wildflowers can sing and by camp food that only friends can make taste so delicious. Ben and I learned we sleep better on an air mattress, which makes me aware of my boniness and of getting old, so I am wanting to sleep outside more and get that relationship with the ground back on track. And or plump up a bit. 

Thank you to Haven, Chantal, and to our families for being and making this an excellent weekend. I am deeply inspired by both these women. The meaning of "superwoman" gets enlivened, and I see grace and love and brains and brawn all in the mix, keeping things tight while allowing flow, guiding and enjoying and living the dream. Being with these types of ladies gives me a little itch to join up with like-minded women in the workplace and create more than just my modest solo 9V stuff. Alluring, so much of it, and to achieve balance? Isn't this always the trick. Conversations to be had.

I was thrilled to get home and see my first ripe tomato (thanks, global warming) and strung out peas; tall carrots, beets and flowering arugula. Cucumbers climbing and lillies blossoming; broccoli struggling (?) and an overjoyed and lonely kitty glad to see us. Home is so good. I am grateful. So grateful.

On our trip we photographed nada; I was expecting my new dSLR in the mail last but the crappy company from whom I ordered oversold it and so my order has been canceled. The underbelly of the "best deal".

Thanks, too, to Creekside Cafe for filling our bellies and making us want to, well sort of want to, move to the Steamboat Springs area...this, I think, is an inevitable call for anyone who's spent time there and who loves the feeling of clean air and water; a more verdant and softer CO; and young interesting-looking white folks who value the wilderness and outdoor recreational sporty stuff...

Off to meditate. It's the new coffee.

We Love Stove, or Stu, depending on Who's Talking

Our friend Stu came over to visit us last weekend. He brought one of the best gifts for Willoree that she's ever gotten: a metal rose that he welded for her. Wow: what a romantic! 

Willoree, at a young three, made Stu (she thought his name was Stove) a pumpkin pie at day care because she fell madly in love with him during another visit last year. Stu returned the favor by singing songs to her while she ate this awesome curry shrimp meal I made from my Pasqual's cookbook. Epic night.

We love Stu! Phoebe's crying so I've gotta go. Dear Diary. Blah blah.

Gayatri Mantra

OM BHUR BHUVAH SUVAHA
TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YO NAH PRACHODAYAT

Meaning:

We contemplate the glory of Light illuminating the three worlds: gross, subtle, and causal.

I am that vivifying power, love, radiant illumination, and divine grace of universal intelligence.

We pray for the divine light to illumine our minds.

Meaning of the individual words:

Om: The primeval sound
Bhur: the physical world
Bhuvah: the mental world
Suvah: the celestial, spiritual world
Thath: That; God; transcendental Paramatma
Savithur: the Sun, Creator, Preserver
Varenyam: most adorable, enchanting
Bhargo: luster, effulgence
Devasya: resplendent,supreme Lord
Dheemahi: we meditate upon
Dhiyo: the intellect,understanding
Yo: May this light
Nah: our
Prachodayath: enlighten,guide,inspire

Sathya Sai Baba said that this prayer is directed to the Divine Mother: "O Divine Mother, our hearts are filled with darkness. Please make this darkness distant from us and promote Illumination within us."

(Below taken from http://www.magicofgayatri.com.)

The History and Significance of the Gayatri Mantra (Excerpts from the CD)

The Gayatri Mantra has been chronicled in the Rig Veda, which was written in Sanskrit about 2500 to 3500 years ago, and the mantra may have been chanted for many centuries before that.

For ages, this beautiful prayer has seemed mysterious to the Western mind and was out of reach even for most Hindus. It was a well guarded secret, withheld from women and from those outside the Hindu Brahmin community.

Today, it is chanted, meditated to, and sung around the world with reverence and love.  It is often compared to The Lord’s Prayer in significance and impact. 

The beautiful and soothing ancient sounds, the flowing rhythmic patterns, and the powerful intent make the Gayatri Mantra a wonderful part of one’s daily spiritual practice. Because it is an earnest and heartfelt appeal to the Supreme Being for enlightenment, it can be universally applied.  It really doesn’t matter what your religion, your color or your ethnicity is – what matters is your intent, and your authenticity, and your willingness to be moved.

The ancient Hindu scriptures describe how the sage Vishwamitra was given the Gayatri mantra by the Supreme Being as a reward for his many years of deep penance and meditation.  This was to be a gift for all humanity.

It is said that this sacred prayer spirals through the entire universe from the heart of the chanter, appealing for peace and divine wisdom for all.

The Gayatri Mantra inspires wisdom in us.  In very basic but beautiful language, it says "May the divine light of the Supreme Being illuminate our intellect, to lead us along a path of righteousness". 

The Vedas say:

To chant the Gayatri Mantra
purifies the chanter.
To listen to the Gayatri Mantra
purifies the listener.
But the mantra does more, as I found out. It opens up your heart. And how well we know, when both our minds and our hearts open, we open ourselves up for new possibilities.

For many devout Hindus, the Gayatri is seen as a Divine awakening of the individual mind and the individual soul – Atman -- and within it, a way to Union with the collective consciousness - Brahman. Understanding and simply loving the essence of the Gayatri Mantra is considered by many to be one of the most powerful ways to touching God.

One interpretation is that the word Gayatri is derived from the words:

gaya, meaning “vital energies” and
trâyate, meaning “preserves, protects, gives deliverance, grants liberation”.
So, the two words "Gayatri Mantra" might be translated as “a prayer of praise that awakens the vital energies and gives liberation and deliverance from ignorance”.

The shorter form of the Gayatri is practiced far more commonly:

“OM BUHR, BHUVA, SWAHA
OM TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YONAHA PRACHODAYAT”

We meditate on the glory of the Creator;
Who has created the Universe;
Who is worthy of Worship;
Who is the embodiment of Knowledge and Light;
Who is the remover of Sin and Ignorance;
May He open our hearts and enlighten our Intellect.

The longer version is more profound.

“OM BHUR, OM BHUVAHA, OM SWAHA, OM MAHAHA, OM JANAHA, OM TAPAHA, OM SATYAM
OM TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YONAHA PRACHODAYAT”

According to the Vedas, there are seven realms or spheres or planes of existence, each more spiritually advanced than the previous one.  It is written that through spiritual awareness and development, we can progressively move through these realms and ultimately merge with the Supreme Being. Many Buddhist teachings have also referred to these seven realms.

By chanting this mantra, Divine spiritual light and power is infused in each of our seven chakras and connects them to these seven great spiritual realms of existence.

Benefits to chanting the Gayatri (Excerpts from the CD and grateful acknowledgements to Pandit Shri Ram Sharma  Acharya)

The sages of ancient times selected the words of the Gayatri carefully and arranged them so that they not only convey meaning but also create very specific vibrations and powers of righteous wisdom through their utterance.  Hindu Vedic scriptures describe how many of these sages accumulated tremendous spiritual powers through years of deep meditation and the chanting of the Gayatri – these spiritual powers are called Siddhi.

It is said that these Gayatri Sadhaka (spiritual seeker) begin to feel the presence of divine power in the inner self which induces immense strength and peace of mind.

According to the late Pandit Shri Ram Sharma Acharya, "The rishis and sages of the Vedic Age had experienced and experimented on the enormous extrasensory energy pools – the chakras, upachakras, granthis, koshas, matakas, upayatikas and nadis, hidden in the subtle cores in the endocrine glands, nerve bundles and ganglions. It is said that the activation of these rekindles rare virtuous talents and supernormal potential. 

Scientists, meta-physicists, spiritual practitioners and others are studying and rediscovering these ancient approaches towards self-realization.

The secret of the supernatural impact of Gayatri Mantra in the physical domains of life lies in the unique configuration of the specific syllables of the mantra. The cyclic enunciation of this mantra stimulates the subliminal power centers in the subtle body. The pressure on tongue, lips, vocal cord, palate and the connecting regions in the brain generated by continuous enunciation of the twenty-four special syllables of the Gayatri Mantra creates a resonance (or a vibration) in the nerves and the ‘threads’ of the subtle body. The musical flow thus induced titillates the extrasensory energy centers. The latter begin to stimulate and a sublime magnetic force arouses in the Sadhaka that attracts the vital currents of Gayatri Shakti immanent in the infinite domains. This magnetic charge induced by the continuous repetition of the Gayatri Mantra ‘attunes’ the seeker’s mind to link with these supernatural power-currents."

It is significant that the prolonged repetition of the Gayatri has a cumulative effect on our bodies and our minds.  Our minds are sharper, our immune system is stronger, and our hearts are open.  When our energy centers, including our main Chakras, are activated by the vibrations of the Gayatri mantra, this has a positive and healing effect on our life force energy – on our Prana.

The Gayatri can be listened to, chanted, or even thought. There is power and potency in all three approaches.  Choose the approach that you are most comfortable with.

The Meaning of the Gayatri Mantra (Text of Track 5)

If you intend to chant the Gayatri mantra, it is quite important that you chant it with the correct pronunciation and with the deepest integrity of intent. This of course, means that one needs to know the meaning of the words behind the mantra.  The Sanskrit words of the Gayatri carry tremendous power when chanted correctly and with the purest of hearts.

Om Bhur Bhuva Swaha  (Om Bhoor Bhoova Swa-Ha)

Om Tat Savitur Varenyam  (Om Tat Sa-Vidoor Va-rain-yam)

Bhargo Devasya Deemahi  (Bhaargo They-Vas-Ya Dee-Mahi)

Deeyo Yo Naha, Prachodayaat  (Thee-Yo Yo-Na-Ha, Pra-Cho-Da-Yaat) 

OM is considered the primeval sound from which all sounds emerge.

OM is Brahma and a metaphor for Source Energy or the Supreme Being.

Om Bhur Bhuva Swaha is actually a preamble to the main mantra and means that we invoke in our prayer and meditation the One who is our inspirer, our creator and who is the abode of supreme Joy.  It also means, we invoke the earthly, physical world, the world of our mind, and the world of our soul.

Tat Savitur Varenyam……Tat meaning THAT, again denoting the Supreme Being.  Savitur meaning the radiating source of life with the brightness of the Sun; and Varenyam, meaning that most adorable, most desirable.

Bhargo Devasya Deemahi……Bhargo meaning luster and splendor, Devasya meaning Divine or Supreme and Deemahi meaning “We meditate upon”.

Deeyo Yo Naha, Prachodayaat……Deeyo meaning our understanding of reality, our intellect, our intention.  Yo meaning He Who, and Naha meaning Our. Finally, Prachodayaat, meaning May he Inspire, Guide.

Put together, we could say:

“We meditate on that most adorable, desirable and enchanting luster and brilliance of our Supreme Being, our Source Energy, our Collective Consciousness….who is our creator, inspirer and source of eternal Joy.  May this warm and loving Light inspire and guide our mind and open our hearts.”

Isn’t that awe inspiring?

Now that you are armed with your own unique inner wisdom of what the Gayatri mantra means for you, and an understanding of the Sanskrit words, perhaps you may wish to write your own personal interpretation of this wonderful prayer.

My blessings and well-wishes as you do so.

Copyright 2007/2008 - The Magic of Gayatri, Chandra-Shekar (from magicofgayatri.com)

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"Enlightenment is a process of peeling back the many layers of the ego to experience your true radiant Infinite Self.  It is a process of opening to your innermost being, and as a result to the entire Universe!  Reaching towards the center of "you" you may find a spiritual cyclone.  Yet, keep diving, beyond that there is a deep stillness.  In the very essence of your being is where your true spiritual knowledge resides.  This is the Source of your Reality and Universe.  As you continuously rest deeper into the quiet peaceful still center in the heart of your being, you will eventually awaken to the Divine being you truly are.  The longer you can abide in this center, the faster you'll find yourself manifesting a rich life, full of depth, meaning, clarity, love and abundant with bliss." – Jafree Ozwald 2006

Minivans: Hell or Hell on Wheels?

There's a decent mention down there about minivans if anyone cares to comment. Given the trauma this subject seems to lay on us ladies with kids, I figure this should set fire to some good conversation. Put it in OD, mujeres...

Almost Done. Looking Green/Good.

www.GreenStarElectric.com/new.

Back to work, Geitner.

Planting A Garden

My hands are rough and all I want to do it smell good dirt, get some hens (not really, but shit we eat a lot of eggs here at ISIS), grow my own, fix the irrigation piping situation, and perhaps move to a place in the world where it's not so damn hard to grow food.

I would love to pick Angela Madaras's brain (read her blog here -- food, love, Lupus, ongoing self-discovery and the meanderings of one of my bestest bestest friend's heart and soul - at least what Blogger gets of it) about everything in my backyard. Her garden in Ann Arbor is an inspiration to me, and I can taste in the food the grows all the love she puts into it. She's amazing, truly. She's one of those people around whom you just want to be more pure, nice, radiant and loving. She's also among the most generous of anyone I've ever met. Her hubby, D00g, ain't bad either.

Angelas garden, last year:

Happy lettuce, happy clouds, happy dill, happy other stuff. I was honored to weed this garden.

My yard deal:

I've got a couple rows of peas going near a wobbly trellis I fashioned out of materials I'd expected to have made something more sturdy. More than half are dead/not coming up. Some carrot seeds have been sown behind them (fingers crossed; the seeds from last year's or the year before?). Red chard and spinach are waiting out in a low, sort of weedy bed to the south; some spinach coming up. Across the path is a row of transplanted dill volunteers along our fence (which I read recently should never be transplanted) and a mess of salad green potential. Beets and kale seeds to the left. I have watered everything pretty well and I can't wait to see what happens. I have a new friend and client who harvests worm poop who I hope will sell me some good compost here soon to amend the rest of the beds. Despite CO and all its arid love, things are looking pretty sweet out there. But it's spring, and it's raining here and there, and the hose reaches most places.

I was appreciating seeds today for the simple fact that they naturally embrace change; they evolve into plants, get eaten, excreted, go back to the globe. I'd like to take note. Why is it that change is so hard for us people? Perhaps if you soak us overnight and give us some kind of inoculator. Oh, perhaps that's garden slang for getting tore up at the bars or something. Or random use of narcotics from third world countries.

It's so sweet, incidentally, to see all my friends coming back to life in the yard -- peonies, asters, greek oregano, strawberrries, dill spriglets, apple blossoms. I will eat you all. I'll also take some photos tomorrow. The yard is where I spend my free time when I've got it: nothing like babies; nothing like gardening.

Same thing, in effect. Miracles at every turn.

Also -- excited to document Ben's latest project: a little play house for Willoree. She's durrin real good, ya'll. Summer's almost here. We're all set to enjoy, deeply. Off to Seattle in a couple of days for Paul's wedding! I get to take pictures for them...and walk for HOURS on the beach, Orcas Island. Joy.

Been A While : MFA : Pneumaplasm

I've been remiss and in bliss; Phoebe's spilling out over all aspects of our lives and it's been wonderful. So much to share...so little time to share it. But parts just seem too good to keep all to myself. So...

I read a paragraph today and learned a new word: Pneumaplasm. Pneumaplasm is the substance of the energetic field surrounding each of us, and is generated out of our flesh as the creative Spirit moves through us in the living of life. There is a story of Creation that tells of a mist coming up from the ground, and immediately following, the Invisible Spirit creates man from earth...and breathes into him the breath of life. The mist is a depiction of pneumaplasm.

Phoebe is a pensive, calm, pneumaplasmistic gal who's a joy to be around. She's also beautiful and interesting and loves to study the light and listen to the little song the glow worm sings. More about her and life as a family of four later.

Ben and I went to Denver to attend our good friend, David Fodel's, thesis show: Still Life in Real Time. It was a beautiful show, and made me feel very proud to know him, and to have shared almost all of my CO days knowing him and his great family. The show was also groovy in that it was pitched high above our heads in the Gates Planetarium and made use of things like a Wii hidden in a loaf of bread, or in a sunflower. David writes, "Still Life in Real Time is an exploration of contemporary notions of "stillness" as seen through different lenses: scientific, technological, and cultural. Three vignettes will be presented, each embodying different aspects of relationships to history, media, and memory and the interfaces we devise to examine and manipulate the data associated with each.

The part of the show I found most captivating commented on the minds and hearts (memory?) of a person said to be in a permanent vegetative state. David photographed the hospital room image that was shining down on us. He just walked into the hospital and started taking photos; no one (NO one, mind you) even stopped to ask him questions about what he was doing because, presumably, he was wearing a suit. So wear your dress up clothes and you'll get away with a lot more than you would otherwise. Check him out here:  http://blog.davidfodel.com/StillLifeInRealTime.

photos by iPhone and taken at the reception (at OBJECT + THOUGHT in Denver) of his processed, as projected on the garage door. There was an inordinate amount of tricky looking math amongst these images, too, but stupid iPhone couldn't work fast enough to take photos of them. And then we had to go eat supper so I left so as not to be left.  The beautiful and talented Stacy B.; garage door images; David talking to Paco.