Get Your OM On!
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On the Path, On the Road
A snippet from an email I sent to a friend while I was on the road this summer:
“… I just wanted to send these pictures of a shrine I encountered by Petroglyph National Monument in Albuequerque, New Mexico. There was a visitor’s center made out of the former home and clinic of a prominent anthropologist in the area. They called her the “Measuring Lady” because she would measure the bones of the Native Americans who lived nearby the petroglyphs in Boca Negra Canyon. Anyway, she donated her home and land to the National Parks so people could learn about and preserve the rock art of the area.
As we pulled up in the desert, I noticed a bright white structure with a metallic gold top. Looked like a stupa to me, oddly enough, because we were absolutely in the middle of nowhere. Practically the last place I would expect to find a shrine, but indeed it was a stupa. Looked like no one had come by in a while, and some of the statuettes were downed. I also spotted a Green Tara card amongst the litter on the ground. Left the coin and candle offerings though. So I cleaned up the relics at least and unfurled the prayer flags. I circumambulated it a few times, but stopped because I heard something rustling the bushes behind me in the desert, so I paid my respect and got the hell out of there. Anyway, thought of you…”
When I travel, especially with my family, I try to have a tenuous outline for the day because I don’t want to miss any opportunities to see good stuff. A rehabilitated Type A, I also need to remember to keep my options open – not to overschedule us. Being in an unfamiliar city (or actually any city, including Indianapolis) with my boys involves a lot of awareness, energy, strength and flexibility on my part. In short, it takes a yoga practice to survive!
Because of my yoga practice, I know what sorts of activities and conditions of reality can trigger my foul moods and short temper (any sort of vigorous exercise like, say trudging up steep hills in San Francisco), and I know about how long I can schlep my satchels uphill from Chinatown in a sort of moving Warrior 2 pose (not very long), and how long I can aimlessly wander in circles (at one point I swear I passed Anthony Bourdain) while my boys decide which crap burger is better: Johnny Rockets or McDonalds?
My yoga practice reminds me to breathe and be patient and not worry that I cannot carry on all of the above activities while also sipping a latte and video recording the whole thing for posterity. It is time to admit I am not really Wonder Woman (but mainly just because I don’t have the invisible jet).
It’s times like these I see my practice pay off. Instead of spazzing out when the world flies out of my control, I can settle down and have a really good day. I can find myself stepping around in an unmarked swath of desert, chipping my pedi all to hell and dodging slithery things to get to Enlightenment or I can do Walking Meditation up Lomabard (the most crooked street in the world). My practice brings me again and again to the present moment, which at that time, in that space involved a lot of strength and flexibility — on account of the hills and all.
Get Your OM On! 