I panicked and gave them five dollars. Don’t ever tell the Anglicans I gave them just as much as I gave the Buddhists.
- Tom
Tommy and I are walking out of the choral evensong service at the St. Thomas Episcopalian Church on Fifth Avenue and I’m changing from my dress shoes back into my flip flops. For those of you who aren’t familiar with choral evensong, it’s based off of old medieval services where the (traditionally all-male) choir sings everything – the hymns, the prayers – and the role of the parishioners is basically to sit and reflect. So I guess you could call it Anglican meditation. I was essentially raised Episcopalian and have always enjoyed Gregorian chant, but today was the first time I'd ever sat and listened to anything like it in a church. It was lovely, and the carved stone of the church’s massive interior was absolutely breathtaking.
It was quite a different experience from the day before, which found Tom and I seated on meditation pillows in a small, beautifully-appointed annex room in the New York Buddhist Church located on the corner of Riverside and 105th. There were five of us participating in the meditation and it was led by a very charming Japanese sensei who smiled a lot and obviously didn’t trust his own mastery of the English language. Through the incense, chant and barefoot walking meditation, though, the clearest language was not spoken at all. I was listening to other things. Maybe I should say I was not listening to other things. What is the sound of something to which you are not listening?
Last week found me listening to a lot of nothing (unless my own doubts count), having subjected myself to about 40 minutes in a sensory deprivation floatation chamber (not a big fan of that, in case you were wondering, but I figured I’d give it a shot). I sat in a salt sauna and got all homesick for west Texas and New Mexico, and then I had some sort of Swedish-based massage that was supposed to help balance my energy. Regardless of how well my energy was aligned, I was certainly relaxed afterwards and that has to be worth something right there.
Tommy says we’re Spiritual Tourists. I figured maybe we were more like Spiritual Terrorists. I told this to Sue today and she misunderstood and thought I said we had Spiritual Tourettes (Syndrome). That may be closer to the truth.
The pursuit of an organized religion has never appealed to me, but the spiritual has always drawn me. It’s about life force. It’s energy and (as my science geek comes out to play) energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It is something that needs to be nourished and, for all my talk of it, is something about myself I often find starving. It can get as sick and stale as the rest of us. And as my birthday approaches, I’m always a little more aware of my spiritual practices. The mind/body stuff seems to work for me, and creativity strikes me as being the ultimate spiritual act. As a creative person, I've found that I have to fill the well if I expect it to give back when I need it.
In recent years, my birthday has become much less about parties and goodies, and more about who I am, where I’ve been and where I’m headed. Do I like the person I’ve become? What would I like to see change? Am I being gentle with myself? Am I holding on to relationships that take more than they give? Would it be kinder to release them? Am I holding myself back? How can I rectify this? It’s about checking in with myself, health, wellness and awareness and making promises that I intend to keep. New Year’s Eve has nothing on the strength of the resolutions made in early September.
So I’m keeping things quiet. There will probably be a beer or two imbibed as I’ll be spending the day with a couple of my best gals, but it will be less about a party and more about quality time spent with good people in environments that are conducive to my happiness. Tea in my favorite garden. Walking barefoot in the grass. The way sound echoes on the Hudson River. The way the sun dips west of the Palisades. Good food and great conversation. The walk home on a clear night. And in the moments of silence that will occasionally fall, I have much to think about and much to not think about. I have behavior that no longer serves me and I have people to draw nearer to my heart. I have dreams that need to be dusted off and fluffed up like pillows. I have people who make me smile, and laugh, and think, and they are really so very invaluable to me. I have miles to go. I have much to be thankful for.
- Tom
Tommy and I are walking out of the choral evensong service at the St. Thomas Episcopalian Church on Fifth Avenue and I’m changing from my dress shoes back into my flip flops. For those of you who aren’t familiar with choral evensong, it’s based off of old medieval services where the (traditionally all-male) choir sings everything – the hymns, the prayers – and the role of the parishioners is basically to sit and reflect. So I guess you could call it Anglican meditation. I was essentially raised Episcopalian and have always enjoyed Gregorian chant, but today was the first time I'd ever sat and listened to anything like it in a church. It was lovely, and the carved stone of the church’s massive interior was absolutely breathtaking.
It was quite a different experience from the day before, which found Tom and I seated on meditation pillows in a small, beautifully-appointed annex room in the New York Buddhist Church located on the corner of Riverside and 105th. There were five of us participating in the meditation and it was led by a very charming Japanese sensei who smiled a lot and obviously didn’t trust his own mastery of the English language. Through the incense, chant and barefoot walking meditation, though, the clearest language was not spoken at all. I was listening to other things. Maybe I should say I was not listening to other things. What is the sound of something to which you are not listening?
Last week found me listening to a lot of nothing (unless my own doubts count), having subjected myself to about 40 minutes in a sensory deprivation floatation chamber (not a big fan of that, in case you were wondering, but I figured I’d give it a shot). I sat in a salt sauna and got all homesick for west Texas and New Mexico, and then I had some sort of Swedish-based massage that was supposed to help balance my energy. Regardless of how well my energy was aligned, I was certainly relaxed afterwards and that has to be worth something right there.
Tommy says we’re Spiritual Tourists. I figured maybe we were more like Spiritual Terrorists. I told this to Sue today and she misunderstood and thought I said we had Spiritual Tourettes (Syndrome). That may be closer to the truth.
The pursuit of an organized religion has never appealed to me, but the spiritual has always drawn me. It’s about life force. It’s energy and (as my science geek comes out to play) energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It is something that needs to be nourished and, for all my talk of it, is something about myself I often find starving. It can get as sick and stale as the rest of us. And as my birthday approaches, I’m always a little more aware of my spiritual practices. The mind/body stuff seems to work for me, and creativity strikes me as being the ultimate spiritual act. As a creative person, I've found that I have to fill the well if I expect it to give back when I need it.
In recent years, my birthday has become much less about parties and goodies, and more about who I am, where I’ve been and where I’m headed. Do I like the person I’ve become? What would I like to see change? Am I being gentle with myself? Am I holding on to relationships that take more than they give? Would it be kinder to release them? Am I holding myself back? How can I rectify this? It’s about checking in with myself, health, wellness and awareness and making promises that I intend to keep. New Year’s Eve has nothing on the strength of the resolutions made in early September.
So I’m keeping things quiet. There will probably be a beer or two imbibed as I’ll be spending the day with a couple of my best gals, but it will be less about a party and more about quality time spent with good people in environments that are conducive to my happiness. Tea in my favorite garden. Walking barefoot in the grass. The way sound echoes on the Hudson River. The way the sun dips west of the Palisades. Good food and great conversation. The walk home on a clear night. And in the moments of silence that will occasionally fall, I have much to think about and much to not think about. I have behavior that no longer serves me and I have people to draw nearer to my heart. I have dreams that need to be dusted off and fluffed up like pillows. I have people who make me smile, and laugh, and think, and they are really so very invaluable to me. I have miles to go. I have much to be thankful for.
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