Slept in a house last night which has a kitchen sink — and a shower. Fell asleep so delicious — clean body, hot shower, clean, soft sheets. Felt like a feral cat who had been brought in and cleaned up. Now the sun is rising out the window above the kitchen sink. I’ve been up since 4:30. Decided to rise despite the low number of hours in the sack because it was spring time.
Spring 4-10, summer 10-4, fall 4-10, winter 10-4. That’s what I think. I’m moving towards a more informed and intuitive-familiar understanding of the seasons. Waking and beginning to move, setting into motion — in the spring. Summer — full rush, blazing. Fall — come down, harvest. Winter — rest.
Living more according to the seasons than numbers on the clock — though they correspond, just as calendar numbers and names correspond to the seasons on the larger scale.
Levels — the seasons of the day, the year, a lifetime, an eaon. Some sense of that and acting accordingly.
When’s the best time to study, work, sleep, rise, chant, sit quietly, socialize, nap, write, sing, and so on…
Feeling into a way of living that is in accord.
Feeling closer to and more reverence for nature. How does nature behave? And following that example.
And… also aware of my humanness. Not only do I have my own deeply ingrained human habits which are weird in the scheme of the natural world, but I am living as part of a web of humans who all have funny habits, rhythms, delusions, brilliance.
If I were a solitary hermit, in nature, I may be able to come into the flow of the seasons, and into harmony with nature and a deeply powerful human rhythm-enlightenment more easily. That is an option for people, but not my path. I’m here in the 21st century web. There’s no escaping the web. We’re all in this together.
And so… manifesting the rhythms of nature and stumbling without shame. Here we are! No worries! But, of course… worries! Because — our churned up karmas of fear, illusion of separateness, and so karmas of control-seeking, and so attempts to dominate, resist fluidity, diversity, change. Trying to make it predictable, but the thing is a roaring jam. In and out of acceptance, harmony, chaos.
Stupidity, stumbles, and brilliance, on stage without shame. Humor savior. This is my aspiration.
— October 23, 2015
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 living as part of Shambhala Mountain Center.
About the Author
Travis Newbill is a writer, musician, and aspirant on the path of meditation. He currently resides at Shambhala Mountain Center, where he handles the SMC Blog, and other marketing tasks. He also gives tours of the Great Stupa and is empowered as a Shambhala Guide — a preliminary teaching position. Check out: travisnewbill.com Follow Travis on twitter: @travisnewbill