Meditation in the Morning

It usually begins before dawn with small birds, like finches and chickadees, chirping and flitting about the mulch garden before the neighborhood and I are fully awake. I’ve labeled this my ‘quiet time.’

During the winter months, it’s that peaceful segue when the cloak of night gives way to the first glow of sunlight on the horizon. It’s during those silent minutes when the darkness dies and morning is born that I come alive.

It’s an hour or so each morning when I drag my fingers across the tablet to peruse, study, make a mental note of articles there, tidbits and other crumbs that just might fit someplace in that jumble of thoughts and ideas spilling into my brain. It’s priceless time to gather, collect, discard and refill that cauldron of ammunition with which to fire up my imagination.

This is often when I get my best ideas on a wide variety of interests. It’s a brief respite before the day becomes crowded, bumped, and distracted by life’s everyday distractions. Current writing projects are often still churning in the mixer of my mind. They twist and turn over dialogue, scenes, and a plethora of my story-telling vernacular ventures. Characters come alive and talk to me. Scenes come together whereas before they were clouded in doubt and confusion. New projects are constantly crowding out each other for my attention.

The ‘Debris Trilogy’ release was realized there one morning. I was anxious to find a way to get my books in front of an audience. Past efforts had failed and I was at a loss as to how to reach folks. Then I realized my blogs had been steadily growing to average of about 75 readers per week. So, I thought I’d create a folksy approach to tell folks how the idea for ‘Debris’the trilogy came about. Vida, my editor, using my text and photo ideas, created a mini website that brilliantly told the story and attracted readers at the same time.

Vida also came up with a very catchy series of press releases for ‘Waleed, the Skinny Hippo’ which I then messaged and managed to send to numerous outlets across the country.

It doesn’t hurt that perusing my tablet each morning has introduced me to a host of story ideas, song lyrics, possible venues, etc. It’s a morning ritual that’s been paying big dividends for years.

When I first started coming to Palm Springs, I used to haunt ‘third places’ around town in the early morning hours.

Those hovels of caffeine and sugar were a kaleidoscope of homeless skeletons, day laborers, non-sleepers, early morning husbands and loners like myself. Together, they were all the perfect place to blend in, take in the sights, sounds, and smells and let my imagination roam. In time, the safe haunts changed and I eventually retreated to my backyard and the comfort (defined: creativity) there.

Now, the practice continues here and there. Early morning is my special ‘window’ to a world of ideas full of ‘what ifs’ and ‘why not?’ For me, it’s the best place to be… year-round.

Power Circles

It was 2020 and a strange new virus had shut down most of the world. We were leaving Palm Springs and heading home for much of the same self-imposed isolation back in Minnesota. The year was turning out like no other we had experienced before.

Unlike Sharon who was quite comfortable being sequestered in our house that summer because of COVID-19, I was chomping at the bit to ‘get out of Dodge.’ LA Fitness was off limits as were restaurants, the library and other past social gathering spots. As it turned out the best part of that adjusted summer was reacquainting myself with old friends and solidifying friendships with new ones. I called them my ‘coffee and chat’ sessions.

Two articles in Natural Awakenings magazine brought this to mind.

Both articles talked about the power and purpose of community and social interaction. One commented that: ‘There is a growing movement that encourages us to find our tribe-those that resonate with our own core values, interests and lifestyles. While historically associated with Indigenous groups, a ‘tribe’ is defined as a social division consisting of families or communities linked by social, economic, religious or blood ties, with a common culture and dialect. The point is to surround ourselves with supportive individuals that uplift us and provide a sense of belonging.’

My own personal experience found that one-on-one exchange was the best way to connect with others. Three’s a crowd, four is too large. Personal exchange between two consenting adults makes for great intellectual interaction on a wide variety of topics.

My first conversational exchange began innocently enough. One of my friends and I discovered the solitude of a lakeside pavilion looking over still waters in the crisp early morning air. It was the perfect peaceful setting for great coffee and thoughtful, insightful, challenging conversations. The surroundings were pretty spectacular too.

For my other friends, the outdoor settings varied from parks, patios, porches, shelters, and other drafty spots with plenty of air circulation and room for our camp chairs spread apart. It worked like a charm so much so that most of us agreed it was a pleasant alternative to the traditional nosey, crowded coffee shops of the past.

Sharon whimsically called them my playdates. I prefer to call them as cerebral salons, catch-up sessions, or simply strengthening the bonds of friendship. It all comes down to enjoying several hours of easy discussion, contemplation, soul-sharing thoughts and sharing the warmth of true friendship. Well-earned reminiscing challenging entrenched thinking, clarifying the past, filling in the memory gap.

Over time, natural attrition and life changes have reduced the group by a couple of members. The ones that survived have grown in depth and sharing; for each of us a very nurturing experience. Each spring when I return from Palm Springs, I try to replicate some of what we captured that first summer when the early morning sun warmed our camping spots and added to the serenity of our friendship.

True wealth comes in good health and friendships. I am a very wealthy person.

Journeys Inside My Head

I guess I’ve always been a dreamer; wondering what if and why not? It’s been a lifelong journey outside the fringes of consciousness, usually spurred on by vapid aspirations and free-flowing thoughts inside my head.

Transcendental meditation and chemical enhancements never appealed to me. I’ve always abhorred drugs and the idea of putting strange substances into my body was an absolute no-go. So, grass, gummies, magic mushrooms, chemical cocktails and the like all stopped before getting close to my lips. Alcohol, for instance, has been absent from my body for more than half a century.

While stationed at the Presidio of San Francisco, I decided one brilliant Friday night to get a little drunk along with my army buddies. After some Malt Liquor, a little wine, beer and who knows what else, I was totally wasted and gone from this world. Two days of recuperation and my body rejected any future ingestion of alcohol. Future partying went as far a couple of light beers and that was that. I haven’t touched hard liquor for the last fifty-five years and counting.

So where does that leave me if I want to venture forth into the world of esoteric thoughts, ideas, concepts, assumptions, reflections, and other soulful ventures into the unknown or cloudy past? Mindful exploring of the great unknown seems to be the answer. Yoga and meditation come first to mind.

Some claim that our mind is the ultimate filter. The newest cliché in a long list of ‘feel good’ labels is mindfulness. It comes after a long list of mind-altering techniques, with or without chemical enhancement, to see more clearly the world around us and thought patterns inside our head. One approach is to go someplace to meditate and not medicate. It can be a mountaintop surrounding the Coachella Valley, hanging off a cliff in Machu Picchu, or just reading about it in a book.

Starting in high school, I was curious about how to see the world in a different perspective. I wanted to journey inside my head sans chemical enhancements. After I stumbled upon Carlos Castaneda I was hooked. Granted, his approach to cerebral Valhalla was with magic mushrooms but the journey mesmerized me nevertheless.

Later on, despite my own divorce from organized religion after the eighth grade, I was mesmerized by a hip, chain-smoking priest named Malcom Boyd. Malcom’s approach to life wasn’t your semi-hippie ‘transcendental meditation’ so popular at the time. Rather, it was his attention to detail. Malcom spoke openly and honestly about real feelings, real emotions and real consequences in my own world. Following in Malcom’s footsteps, another group of truth seekers took up the lead that Napoleon Hill had created years earlier.

Napoleon Hill, Robert Pursig, Zig Zigler, and Brian Tracy all began preaching their own version of the gospel of success and self-enlightenment; the original ‘American Dream.’  Perhaps taking their cues from the original bible of self-determination, the ‘McGuffey’s Reader, first published in 1843, they adhered to the principles that ‘the road to wealth, to honor, to usefulness, and happiness, is open to all, and all who will, may enter upon it with the almost certain prospect of success.’ I’m sure if they were selling audio tapes of that book, they’d have made a million dollars by now.

Down through the decades, we’ve been introduced to a myriad of new-age dynamics that are guaranteed to change our lives. A recent trip to the library introduced me to this years ‘best seller’ and finally it seemed to make some sense. Without audiotape box sets, podcasts, U-Tube lecture series or in-person seminars, there seemed to be a rather simple approach to getting inside one’s head.

A quote from a book I recently read said it best: ‘Until we look directly at our minds we don’t really know ‘what our lives are about. Everything we experience in life goes through just one filter – our minds – and we spend very little time bothering to see just how it works.’

I would suggest that once people get a taste of it - it’s so completely fascinating, because really our life is a clear manifestation of what our minds are telling us.’ Good, bad, right or wrong, it’s all there for our perception, acceptance, denial, rejection or embracing.

Coupled up with these mind relaxing techniques are steps to facing our anxieties and learning to live with them. Almost all of the books refer to nature as an all-encompassing, all around us, every day, every time, kind of therapy.

Whether we venture to the top of a mountain, seek a quiet secluded spot among the oranges, or just rock in a chair listening to the birds, we ultimately end up in the same place; inside our head. It’s there, amid the distractions, outside noises, and nagging thoughts that our mind can slowly come clean to the honesty of our lives, our world, and what direction our heart is telling us to go.

Zen Habits

What do you want to do with the rest of your life and is Eighty too late to start? Two questions with no concrete answers for either one unless you’ve really got it all together which few of us ever do. What I am sure of is that I’d rather be happy at the miles traveled rather than look back at the stumbles along the way. It took me a lifetime to get here. No shortcuts allowed along the way. So, I might as well enjoy the time still left on the clock.

What’s working in my favor is my German Catholic upbringing. There was always a focus on hard work, material sacrifice and a subtle but unmistakable desire to get ahead. Past generations would often describe it (and usually disparagingly) as ‘rising above your raisin.’ My mother led by example; not words or lectures. It was a subtle message but well received by my sister and I.

Unfortunately, what’s working against me is my German Catholic upbringing. Too much allegiance to the man dressed in black along with his sisters-in-kind. Their word was sacred and final and all too often wrong in all the right places. Emotions and feelings were a sign of weak-ness and our elders often preached that ‘children should be seen and not heard.’

What I’ve stumbled across in my old age (relatively speaking) is the ability to see my luck (through the fog of daily life) in whom I married, my kids, and my grandkids. If there is a legacy, I guess they’re mine.

I’ve been most fortunate with my health, managing my cerebral curiosity, and how I’ve chosen to live my life on a daily basis. There’s been a real outburst of writing projects over the last several years along with a very real satisfaction with my ‘Coffee and Chat’ sessions.

Those early morning coffee clutch gab sessions provide much more than just doctor talk and exercising intellectual prowess on our part. It’s both male and female companionship in my old age.

All of which leads me to a more recent practice of Zen habits or more clearly stated, getting lost in the woods or wash or berm or mountain top as a precursor for getting lost inside my head.

Alone or with a friend, leaving the comfort of home for the rough, unknown of a mountain trek opens one up for all kinds of cerebral explorations. It all comes down to not knowing what you’ll find and not caring. Just enjoying the serenity and peace and calm of mother nature. And luckily reflecting on a life well-lived.

My Back Porch

Some of us are fortunate enough to have that special place where we can get lost inside our head. My son finds it at around 14,000 feet high on some mountaintop in Colorado. My daughter can get wrapped up in those euphoric moments in the middle of a long run - winter or summer.

Mine is not so adventurous or strenuous. It’s a quiet place, wrapped in warm colors, bird sounds, and the hush of rustling leaves that surround me.

All spring, summer, and fall, I spend most of my time outdoors except when I sleep or tap-dance over my computer keys. Morning, noon and night. Cold and freezing, warm or windy, my porch is like a close friend.

Out West a backdrop tapestry of mountains wrapped in colors of the moment provide my sanctuary of contemplation. In Minnesota, I have my indoor / outdoor living space to enjoy every day.

This temple to my mind began its life as an octagonal deck. The deck lasted for several years before being transformed into a screened in porch and deck. It became an extension of our outdoor living space.

Each day comes with changing temperatures, different lighting effects, mood, and purpose.

It is at once, my reading room, a soccer practice field with the grandchildren, a nerf battleground with Brennan, breakfast nook, lunchroom and quiet evening dining spot. Most importantly, it is an early morning respite from reality, a nighttime solitude before bed and daily place to watch the birds feed.

From my sanctuary I can watch the kids in their favorite climbing tree, birds bathing in the birdbath, the occasional art patron and other nocturnal critters scampering about. It is a celebration of all that makes life exciting and satisfying.