OK. Here is my thought about thinking.
There is a large space in my mind. Even though I know the anatomy of my beautiful brain is quite small, the amount of data that comes and goes there is quite large.
People come and go into this space. Each person represents a story. A few of them visit often and a very few of them settle in to be near me. They talk to me. The visitors tend to have stories and the stories are sequential. They are long, shaggy dog stories and I have heard them all before. The stories that are unique are told to me outside this room, where I can examine them and enjoy them. Or puzzle them out. They are my stories.
When a certain person or idea continues to nag me I get out a little signboard and put on it a label that says: Go away, You are an idea that has come to me some other time and it is not unique. It is just an ordinary and uninteresting idea. I’ve had that thought another day. Go away and leave me in stillness.
Sometimes that works. When the thoughts are simple ones.
The most insistent, repetitive thoughts are the tough ones and certainly the most interesting. About them I am very curious. Sometimes I see them as words. Sometimes as pictures. When I first started to learn to meditate I would lie awake at night and worry about these thoughts. Over and over again, chafing at being awake. A first step for me was to say to myself: I am old enough that just lying here, being still, is restful. I am old enough now that I don’t need a lot of sleep for rebuilding of cells in my body. But then there were still the obnoxious thoughts.
So the trick, oldest of all– certainly not an original idea – would be to picture sheep jumping over a stile. I label each little creature with one of these ideas and watch them go. Of course they go and they return as well. But, after awhile, the ideas become
dispassionate. Cartoons. Creatures without personal meaning. In the daylight I wonder who was the first person who thought of this device for falling asleep. Perhaps the shepherd, concerned for individual animals, a true worry. For us, sheep are a bit more abstract.
Just playful thoughts.
My meditation practice changes, day by day. I’m such a curious person, always asking Why? I find it difficult to say: Well, that just is. There is a long winding pathway between escaping inside images or mantras for rest and learning how to sit with what is.
How about you?
Put in a comment. What is your story?

Not like this !
The visit. The image. We managed to visit A Cathedral A Day. Nowhere was the sound so sweet as that of the choir in the Lancashire Cathedral. We learned that the right to be a member of the choir included rigorous practice sessions and a very clear commitment to be present at all rehearsals. Memorable was the ceremony where the red-robed ( on trial ) young boys were invited to move up, to wear white robes and to sing fully vested. As the priest welcomed them, he said, ” Malachi and Joshua. One of you is a book of the Bible.” Malachi and Joshua shrugged, looked at one another, and clearly wondered which of them was so honored. Who names their kid Malachi?
Of course we were not invited to touch the beautiful tapestries, the ornate altar cloths, such as this one in the Chapel of Saint Thomas in Canterbury Cathedral. Yet their richness so exemplified the sense of touch in the the silk, the threads, the handwork of the artists, that we met at every turn in these ancient places of worship.
e letter S. For many weeks, while I was waiting to be married, and while my father-in-law was dying, i stitched over those S letters in the corners of the napkins. Later, I wonder how she must have thought of him when, widowed, she and I worked together, many weeks, taking the needles in and out of the forms for the chair seats. Now she is gone, too, and the chairs are dispersed to the houses of various people. Whenever I pull out one of those chairs for a family dining event, I think of her and I wonder: Did she or did I touch this yarn to cloth to form the bases for a family ritual half a century later?
Smell deserves another chance in this blog. The vigorous swinging of the brazier of incense at the high altar in the cathedral in Lancashire priory connoted years of practicing this art form by a very old priest.
Not far from the site of the (above)Irish Sea, was the first of our stops for Fish and Chips in a proper British tavern. The table is set. We waited for our food at a rough wooden table, clearly showing the hand of its creator. In the distance the same Irish Sea while we waited for the cod fished from it.
ere full.



Our choices and how we prepare them go a long way to influence the movements of our minds and the energy and strength of our bodies.

October 12. Soon we move on to those all – important, delicate, troublesome, but amazing joints: Your Knees. There’s a lot to cover, including a trip past the shins, the calfs, on our way to the next class:
Just come whenever it suits you. The class is always held at 5:00, whether I am there or not you will find a teacher trained to this relaxing style of yoga

The end goal of classical Yoga is Meditation and the quiet mind, a spiritual practice. In the Victorian age when India was all the rage, the Western world discovered, expanded and adapted the few asanas in the yogic history, designed for relaxation of the body to quiet the mind. Yoga came to America in the late 19th century and eventually was dominated by a gymnastic or athletic practice. Today, yogis who are by now adept at the athletics, seek the quiet mind.
time for that discussion before we move on to the Ayurvedic tools we can use to prevent the discomforts of imbalance.