Floral Notes and Bardo: The Creative Chronicles of a Shambhala Mountain Resident is a regular feature on the SMC blog in which a member of our staff/community shares his experience of existing as part of Shambhala Mountain Center.
This morning, my skull was a-buzz, body tagging along, narrator giddy and ignorant. Empty chair across from me — an invitation to settle. I don’t need a real god to sit there and watch me. And, I don’t need a real me to write.
Strolling down the hill after morning song with Heather, my nose in-and-out of a book — Shantideva/Pema — I got fifteen minutes of reading and studying in on the way down the hill. Then contemplated a line while in the shower. I showered today.
As the schedule has shifted, and my location, and everything, my routine –scattered — I haven’t been showering very much. Apparently it is not as important to me as: breakfast, meditation, writing. Anyway, my body is clean today, and I have a good feeling about the days ahead. I planted my flag of routine last night and came up with a good schedule.
Lots of reading, writing, and work to do; lots of beautiful people to know; lots of nature to enjoy… Time to poop.
The springtime is coming on — plump little mice are running around, mating, wooing, ticks are chomping into our flesh, pasque flowers are coming up — the first wildflowers to arrive on the last each year. My body has been knicked and a bit off balance.
Saturday night a bunch of us sat in the Stupa as Thomas Roberts offered a Tibetan Singing Bowl meditation. It was very soothing — the Stupa resonant with those gorgeous tones, in and out of harmony, sound and space.
Sunday a field trip down to Fort Collins to get Heather’s tick bite — the nastiest tick bite of the season — checked out.
In the waiting room at urgent care, while “Dude Where’s My Car?” played on the television, while a grandmother became furious because the people at the front desk turned her and her sick granddaughter away in accordance with a new policy, while folks in the chairs beside me played loud videos on their iPhones with the volume up — I read a poem — which I enjoyed in the midst of the raucous, germy, environment. “The Canyon Wren” — rushing down the river in a raft, being pulled along, spun, splashed, and then the call of a small bird pulls the writers mind into the larger environment. Songs of all sorts do this for us all of the time. As Pema Chödrön says — sometimes is takes a Mack truck running into us, and other times it can be the curtains moving gently in soft breeze.
— April 14, 2015
Travis Newbill is a curious creature on the path of artistry and meditation, who is very glad to be residing at Shambhala Mountain Center. His roles within the lil’ society include Marketing Associate and Shambhala Guide — a preliminary teaching position. Follow Travis on twitter: @travisnewbill