Walks and courts

It's been cold and icy the last couple of days, so spent some time walking and playing indoor tennis. The presence of others is a kind of a distaction, very little focus on the elements. Another reminder how quickly the thread can be lost.

Air (con't)

3 out-breaths, 2 in-breaths or 2 out-breaths, 1 in-breath, an odd number alternates the pedal press down. The cold makes my nose run, harder to maintain a rhythm between sniffs. Air, fueling the fire, lungs like bellows.

The wind sometimes like gravity, need to go lower, but the body won't flex. Wind permeating the muscles, merging with energy combining the elements. Air, mixing it up. Mixing it up.

Pressing down, pulling up, thoughts create uneven breath, always returning.

Air

Qualities of lightness, flow, capacity, on-going, rhythm, heat, metabolic rate...Staying with the air this week. Merging more of the athletic awareness into daily life with the elements as the bridge.

Breath is often used as an object of meditation, here it becomes a bit wider and more integrated, less as an object of focus and more as a quality of being.

Earth and wholeness

Earth, weight, gravity, pressing down, unifying force, stay with the weight. Tires rolling, smooth movement, slight grades, pressing up, flowing down. The more emphatic weight of the larger hills. Returning to gravity, returning to earth. Constant call.

Paranoia

Rider behind, adrenaline kicks in, something old taking place. Is it embedded from way back, "fight or flight"? Is it something closer, more tied to the current system?

Running away was one of my vocations as a child. I never got very good at it, generally I took off in the moment of the rupture, my father chasing after me in anger, frustration and confusion.

He never caught me, fucking fast I was. Early moments of feeling freedom slowly dissolved by the rain, cold, lonliness, hunger.

Someone ususally called, someone usually took concern for the isolated child. Isolation and freedom, the isolation seemed real, the freedom impossible.

Old memories, spurned by the sprint, the rider behind, the press to not get caught, the awareness seemingly overcome, but it's always there, observing, almost on its own.

Focus

New route today, trying to get back on time for a meeting. Distraction follows the rush.

Morning light

Breathing lines

The gentle arc of the gull as it lands. The rhythm of the rain. Moving in and through the landscape.

Glimpses of something not seen, karmic arisings, like clouds.

Breath, breath, press, press. Legs and lungs, gravity and breath.

On not pressing up against

Beautiful day, blustery clouds, nice light, moist air. Staying with space, wider vision, perception like a radar screen, noticing the arisings within the context of the awareness.

Arisings in the mind—the same, dramas—the same, oneness and separateness—the same.

Breath comes easy, flow comes easy, all embracing space, smells like freedom.

Nothing special

The rain, the leaves, the drops on the puddles. New worlds arising, passing away, continuous flow

self arising
self liberating
in itself

Speed leads to an intensity of awareness, risk increasing, watching for puddles, walkers, runners, glasses fogging, pushing down, pulling up.

Observer and observed

Thinking of Krishnamurti today.

"This is the last talk. Do you want to sit together quietly for a while? All right, sirs, let us sit quietly for a while."
—January 4, 1986

Scattered mind

Wet, rainy day, moving through the motions.

Starting off with fire; push, breath, focus, synchronization, attending to the flame.

Lots of thoughts today, like shattered glass when a vase is broken.

Walking

Frozen ground today, a bit dangerous for the bike. Nice easy walk,a few hills, pressing down, pushing up, gravity, fluidity, fire, breath merging together.