Life at SMC

Floral Notes and Bardo: Rainbows in the Jaws

Ink is all dried up and back is stiff, and yet, life is moving with more fluidity — as I typed that, the laptop computer — more than five years old now and beginning to shit the bed — froze.

Something like fish bones crunched between shark teeth as the ocean undulates.

This morning, kissing Heather, a rainbow landed on her eye-lid.

Contemplating masculine and feminine. Reflecting on the pain of becoming too rigid, ambitious, fun-deprived.  Over the summer.  Heather and I both a bit traumatized and feeling into a more balanced way of being.

As I type that, my back, pulling on my brain, gripping all internal voice and saying “no.”

Here I am in the jaws.  It’s a beautiful, blue-sky day outside. Autumn, which feels sweeter than ever.  Falling away of summertime squeeze, falling, falling.  Some wish here to feel sweeter in the body, to be sweeter in the voice.  The sense of charnel ground, echoes of Bhanu.  These bones crunching, unable to tell my story.  A different story, not according to plan, expectataion.

Which sort of daisy tune will I hear as I’m passing?

We were in New York for a week, myself and the “Marketing Team.”  We were filming teachers and eating expensive food.  It was good.  I love the City.  I miss the City.  The smells and faces, movement, concrete, murals on walls, edge, diverse flavors sharing small spaces.  At one wth crowd.

Now back to the land and surrenduring into it.  Allowing conversations to roll, past my bedtime.  Unable to hold it all together.  Witnessing rainbows, playing guitar for a bit, just because, pancake breakfast with the roomies, a long nap, work my six hours and then go outside, have late-afternoon tea and contemplate poetics, meditate.  Not much time — not much concept of time.  Of course, gotta get to work by 10.  Fine. Feeling the sway — too tight, too loose, and more of a sense of “okay.”  Letting it sway.  Outside this window, tall, thin ponderosa swaying.  Behind me, sweet Heather getting dressed, no strong conceptual argument.  No big formulation.  That’s all folks.

— October 13, 2015


1606965_10154263909095154_2100377528113425384_nTravis Newbill is a writer, musician, and aspirant on the path of meditation.  He currently resides at Shambhala Mountain Center, where he serves in the roles of Marketing Associate and Shambhala Guide — a preliminary teaching position.  Follow Travis on twitter: @travisnewbill