Today

It's chilly this morning after a hard frost. The mesa is starting to close up, contract. There was a flurry of bird activity a few days ago; I may have even seen a small flock of bluebirds resting on the yucca branches before continuing their migration. Just a fleeting flash of blue in the corner of my eyes, then faded into the grassland again. And the meadowlarks were full of song a few days ago. Mark thinks that they never left but it seems to me that they disappeared during the hot summer months and came back only a few days ago, also on their migratory path to somewhere else. It's always a surprise to be walking along the path and hear the clear trill of the meadowlark coming from what sounds like only a couple of feet from where you are. But they're clever ventriloquists and if you look hard into the grasses you can usually spot them sitting high on a stem, 100 feet away. When I was a new mesa-dweller I would stop walking and peer into the grass near the path, convinced that the bird was right there. Now I know better and it still thrills me.

Yesterday I took part in a 2-hour meditation practice at Naropa, one in a series of happenings during Community Practice Day. All regular university business stops and people come together to experience various types of contemplative practice. The meditation happened in a big room with about 100 mats and cushions arranged on the floor. People were called to the room by a gong and found their seat. The 10-15 minute seated meditation sessions were interspersed with walking meditations, led by a soft-spoken woman who sounded like an NPR commentator. Once I discovered how to arrange my legs so as not to develop cramps I was able to sit still for the duration. But my mind...how my mind loves to go into overdrive when it's quiet. I know this is common among new meditators so I tried hard to not go to a judgmental place. Breathe in, breathe out. Sooooo....hummmm.

During the walking meditation we walked slowly and deliberately, hands at waist, eyes softly down. Let the thoughts go, just be here now. Two circles of walkers snaked around the room, passing each other in the middle. I kept thinking about the security lines at Denver International, where you walk slowly and deliberately back and forth in the corrals, gaze diverted. You pass the same people again and again but you rarely acknowledge them or even make eye contact. Maybe I'll try to meditate in line next time I'm there.