The Frog Prince and other favorite things

It’s still early, only 9:30 on Saturday morning. Ah, Saturday morning, possibly the best time of the week (now that the kids are grown). The house and the neighborhood are practically silent; no trains or sirens yet to jangle your nerves. The only sounds are the quiet hum of the boiler downstairs, heating up the radiators; Rich’s munching of something in front of his computer in the other room; and Honey Girl’s sighs as she breathes right here, lying by my side on the dining room rug. I sit on a nice wood chair and feel just right.

In the hopes of passing along the peaceful feeling, here are some favorite things.

In the kitchen, deep in a corner behind a cluster of stern-looking wooden spoons and a menacing rolling pin, stands a hopeful frog. He was given to me years ago, destined for a garden I think, but I prefer to keep him closer at hand, as a sweet reminder of the Frog Prince. He is the hapless amphibian who wins the girl over through patience and love. An apt symbol for my household! (according to the Grimm version, however, the frog transforms into a prince upon impact, when the princess throws him against a wall in disgust!  Ouch!).

Another favorite thing is breakfast: plain Greek-style yogurt with sliced banana, roasted almonds with sea salt, and honey drizzled on top. Plus a double espresso with steamed milk of course, from our vintage Cimbali machine.

After breakfast, I still practice the “morning routine” every day, or at least six days out of seven. When I do not have the time or feel good enough to do it, I really miss it, and the next day think to myself, “Finally, I get to get back into shape!” It has become a sacred ritual, just like Twyla Tharp says in The Creative Habit: only in this case, my creation is my life!

I’ll leave you two other picture-thoughts: both from Mai-Mai Sze’s lovely and erudite Tao of Painting, seen here alongside a little pot of pink flowers I received from the Ruiz children, students in “Write YOUR Story,” at Christmas time.

Growing, changing, and flowering, those words apply very well to the fun, bright children I’ve grown to love. The same processes are all around us! Just think of the Mustard Seed Garden Manual description of youthful bamboo. Despite their recent arrival, the bamboo branches are portrayed as wise and deep:

… they are like the hermits who follow unswervingly the Tao. With the power of their spirit, they could comb the wind and sweep clear the full moon. They should not be painted confused or crowded, for the air around them is clear and pure.

–quoted in Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting, 123.

I like the image of a being which is not confused or crowded, for the air around it is clear and pure.

Wouldn’t we all like to live, breathe, and feel like that?  Young yet wise. Supple yet inflexibly devoted to creativity, kindness and life!

off to do T’ai chi now…

good day to you!

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After that long trip to France and New York, today was the first day I feel strong and centered again. Just as the trip was not a haphazard event, but took much planning, the equilibrium achieved today represents one part of a long-term, creative way of life.

La chance, ça se prépare.  {good luck comes from good planning}

The image above shows the simple tools I used today. They include:

1. Peter Ralston, The Principles of Effortless Power
2. Mai-Mai Sze, The Tao of Painting
3. The little notebooks where I record my daily routine. (The routine is described here). It includes meditation, warm-up exercise and the 45 min. T’ai chi sequence. NB: As you can see, the little notebook records a person’s handwriting, and allows for short thoughts to be recorded and pictures or doodles to accompany the fitness record.
4. The basic laptop computer where I watch the video of Master Peng and practice T’ai chi Yang style 108. (It was recorded last year in a gym near my home.)

C’est tout!   {that’s all!}

Here are the quotes that guided my spirit this morning, I read them with my morning coffee.

from Ralston, “Fill out and be complete, yet be empty with nothing to protect.  … Integrity, like relaxing, grounding, being calm, and centering, must permeate all aspects of our activity.” (Principles, 17)

from Sze, “In the handling of vast space, their [Southern Sung]  ink paintings are some of the greatest expressions of the human spirit. … they merged the details in mists, obliterated them in space, and emphasized by depth of distances the silent majesty of nature and the mystery of the Tao. … The great oceans on these maps were space, the perfect symbol of which is merely the black silk or paper, and in many instances was so represented in paintings. By the directness and purity of this device, the awareness of space was made more acute and its effects more profound. … it should be added, however, that the effectiveness of blank spaces was achieved only through contrast with the vitality of the brushstroke that rendered the forms it surrounded.”  (Tao of Painting, plate I, Landscape by Yen Tzu-yu, XII-XIII centuries, Sung Period), below.

The “reverential” attitude toward the vastness of the cosmos in this artwork is refreshing in the early morning. As my mind took its time emerging from sleepiness with lovely strong coffee, it was pleasant to contemplate the unknowingness that exists above the blue sky. It was good to put my feet flat on the floor and think about gravity and living on earth. With so much ugliness from humans contaminating our senses and our media-saturated public spaces, it is refreshing to see people in this painting represented as tiny things in contrast with the soaring space of the evanescent clouds.

Later on, I found this good quote in The Creative Habit, by Twyla Tharp:  “A lot of habitually creative people have preparation rituals linked to the setting in which they choose to start their day. By putting themselves into that environment, they begin their creative day.  … What makes it a ritual is that they do it without questioning the need.” (Creative, 16).

I don’t know about you, but with a rigorous, uplifting morning routine, artwork like Yen Tzu-ya to contemplate, and good thoughts from great thinkers in mind, I can sail through any day.

I felt calmly content as I did every single thing I did today–not only a good conversation with a young friend, but also the more banal things like the long cold walks from a parking lot to a meeting, a visit with an uninteresting salesman, and the time I spent out at Dale’s Auto, waiting for a ride after a mixed-up communication. (Rich is watching some loud obnoxious sport channel right now–a good test of my mettle! But even those loud, aggressive men on TV cannot bother me.)

It is all good simply because it is, and was, my life.

And soon, it will be “fun time” again with Honey Girl.  I wonder where she’ll take me this evening?