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i seem to show up less and less on the blog these days. not even the recipes are making it here! i regret that and miss the sense of satisfaction and wellbeing that arises in me as part of my blogging process.

i am busy. in a good way. aside from the regular bits and pieces of life, i am putting together health and wellness programs and/or proposals for a number of schools and business settings and this keeps me at my keyboard, my brain juicy with ideas.

many blog entry ideas, part sentences and sketchy thoughts are being posted into my draft entries. they wait patiently. so must i.

under a photo of a sunset in the sahara desert, i contemplate patience. i think of pema chodron’s words in The Answer To Anger and Aggression Is Patience. patience is the answer to so much more.

[W]henever there is pain of any kind–the pain of aggression, grieving, loss, irritation, resentment, jealousy, indigestion, physical pain–if you really look into that, you can find out for yourself that behind the pain there is always something we are attached to. There is always something we’re holding on to…

…After a while it seems like almost every moment of your life you’re there, at a point where you realize you actually have a choice. You have a choice whether to open or close, whether to hold on or let go, whether to harden or soften…

It requires enormous patience even to be curious enough to look, to investigate. And then when you realize you have a choice, and that there’s actually something there that you’re attached to, it requires great patience to keep going into it. Because you will want to go into denial, to shut down. You’re going to say to yourself, “I don’t want to see this.” You’ll be afraid, because even if you’re starting to get close to it, the thought of letting go is usually very frightening. You may feel that you’re going to die, or that something is going to die. And you will be right. If you let go, something will die. But it’s something that needs to die and you will benefit greatly from its death.

On the other hand, sometimes it’s easy to let go. If you make this journey of looking to see if there’s something you’re holding on to, often it’s going to be just a little thing. Once when I was stuck with something huge, Trungpa Rinpoche gave me some advice. He said, “It’s too big; you can’t let go of it yet, so practice with the little ones. Just start noticing all the little ways you hold when it’s actually pretty easy and just get the hang of letting go.”

That was extremely good advice. You don’t have to do the big one, because usually you can’t. It’s too threatening. It may even be too harsh to let go right then and there, on the spot. But even with small things, you may—perhaps just intellectually—begin to see that letting go can bring a sense of enormous relief, relaxation and connection with the softness and tenderness of the genuine heart. True joy comes from that.




Just before sunrise I headed out the door for a short run this morning.

The sky to the east was just barely pink as I strode down the laneway. On my out run I could almost hear the blushing of the horizon behind me.  The half moon was large and honey coloured as it hung on my left shoulder, whispering stories of the nights yet to be.  Crows strutted through freshly plowed fields, robins dashed along the road’s edge and a natural symphony of song birds made the thought of running with an ipod simply ludicrous.

The turn-around is that moment when I burst into the sunrise.  The colours so astounding.  Salmons, pinks, flamingos, corals dancing amidst purple grays and pewters.  The half moon, now falling behind me on my right, was an immaculate white as it faded to the eruption of the sun onto centre stage.

I stopped, pulled off my runners and socks.  I ran into the sunrise.

Sahara at sunrise

The asphalt was as cold on the soles of my feet as the Sahara Desert just before sunrise or the Atlantic waters of Kennington Cove year round.  The sensations along the bottoms of my feet were amazing, exquisite, and the discomfort in my tibialis anterior instantly dissolved.  My toes were free to move and  I marveled at my ability to wiggle my toes while running!

It just plain felt great.

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