Christmas Tree Reborn

 

Our Christmas tree left us yesterday. Rest in Peace dear friend. December 6-January 25.

Behold! Our Christmas tree is reborn outside, near the front door. A green tree sprouted in a snow bank. I call it instant landscaping.

Birth. Death. Birth. Death. Birth is happening every moment. Death is happening every moment.

Have you noticed?

Light in the Dark

 

The twelfth day of Christmas has come and gone, but i like to keep my outdoor Christmas tree lights up for another month. The season of darkness begins on Halloween and ends on Groundhog Day. Suddenly, there's light.

For now, i have to be content with outdoor Christmas tree lights, which bring happiness when i look at them.

What brings light into your life these days? For me, it's the kindness of neighbors. A loaf of bread appeared in my kitchen this morning when i wasn't looking. Another neighbor gave me scones today.

So many things to be grateful for today. List yours.

Broccoli Christmas Tree

 It's finally time to start eating out of the freezer because any remaining vegetables in the garden are frozen. (I'm ignoring the turnips, the Jerusalem artichokes, and the small kale leaves.) I've been preparing my freezer for this day, and it is brimming with possibilities. 

Oops, my sweetie went to the food coop and saw the organic broccoli Christmas tree. He had to buy broccoli. We are having broccoli for dinner. The freezer will have to wait.

Desire strikes. Fresh organic broccoli looks so much better than a cold frozen vegetable.

Maybe tomorrow.

CHRISTMAS TREE REDUX

We took down the Christmas tree and carried it outdoors. And there we set it up again in a snowbank, known in other seasons as my white garden. Now that garden is well and truly white--with snow. For the next ten weeks, we have a tree standing near the front door, sort of defining the white garden with a bit of vertical greenery. Instant landscaping!

We did this while the temperature was still above freezing and the wet snow could be shoveled and

then banked around the base of the tree. Two hours later, the temperature dropped below freezing and

now the tree  and its stand are frozen solidly into the icy snow for the next three days as

temperatures drop back into the single numbers.

We think of our words and actions as changeable, pliable, melting away on the next breath.

Yet, if we repeat the same thought or the same action over and over, the neural pathway forms a rut,

and a habit becomes frozen in place. A habit becomes part of our inner landscape, and we start to

believe that's who we really are.

Let's watch our thoughts and actions carefully and make sure that they are in accord with our highest

intentions. Let's plant mindfulness right at the front door of our mouth.

 

Christmas Tree Outdoors

In January, I took the Christmas tree outdoors and ensconced it in a snowbank in the white garden at the front door. Instant landscaping! A snow-covered fir tree is so beautiful and so seasonal. It's fun to look out the window and see a fir tree suddenly there, or to drive in the driveway and notice a perfectly-shaped evergreen in the garden.

Many people would like to have instant meditation. I can't tell you how many students say, "But my mind isn't quiet."

Of course, it isn't. We meditate in order to train our minds. Our inner landscape won't instantly be quiet. A quiet-ish mind (for the mind is usually at least wisp-y) requires repetition of meditation.

Outdoor, the Christmas tree stands quietly in the snow.

Stress-Free Christmas Tree

My Jewish neighbors aren't in the habit of Christmas trees, so this year they are having fun with a straggly succulent houseplant.

Three summers ago, they bought a hanging basket of succulents to hang next to their front door. The first summer, it looked great. They over-wintered it indoors, and the second summer it looked pretty but leggy. Now that it's 3 years old, one gangly succulent has taken over, with 3 drooping stems.

My neighbors have decorated the plant with candles made by a friend and a starfish star at the top.

Besides being fun--and a real conversation piece for our morning meditation group--this Christmas "tree" is stress-free.

Perfect Christmas Tree

My sweetie found the perfect Christmas tree for us--about 6 feet tall and 3 feet wide. It's a skimpy, see-through tree, which we like because we can see through it. It's airy and spacious, but doesn't take up too much space.

Perhaps you think i'm speaking in conundrums. To someone who likes a thick tree, a see-through tree would be unpleasant; but it's pleasant to us. Our minds are so accustomed to judging good/bad, right/wrong, proper/improper, yet this Christmas tree is just as it is. No need for judging, despite the fact that the mind judges anyway.

Composting Christmas Trees

In London, Epiphany (January 6) is the time to throw out the Christmas tree. Big cages are set up near parks for recycling Christmas trees.

Trees come in to the city via private haulers. Then, it's up to the city to dispose of them.

As our Vermont governor said, several years ago, "Companies want to privatize the profits, and socialize the losses."

After someone makes money on Christmas trees, then tax dollars are needed to dispose of those trees.

The same can be said for most of what we buy--someone makes money, and then we all pay for the disposal costs. Every time we buy something, we are buying demise in disguise. And although we don't realize it when we desire that beautiful new thing, we are committing to pay for its funeral, which we then call trash.

A Christmas tree doesn't live very long. Most of what we buy will be in the rubbish bin within five years. From treasure to trash, it's all impermanent.

Nothing Special

I've de-Christmased our little hemlock Christmas tree. After i took off its one strand of lights, i stuck the bare little tree in a snow drift near the front door.  Instant landscaping! That waving branch of green looks pretty good in the snow.

For a couple of weeks, that little tree was a "somebody." A somebody that many people noticed and commented on. Now that little tree has become a nobody--nothing special, very ordinary.

Oh, how we ourselves yearn to be a somebody--perhaps a big somebody or perhaps "only" a somebody to someone. And all along we are actually nobodies. Not the depressing sort of nobody that we might look down our nose at. Just an ordinary nobody of a tree--nothing special and of no importance--as we take our place in the family of humankind.

Hemlock Christmas Tree

Since we are leaving for vacation the day after Christmas, i wanted a little tabletop Christmas tree. By the time we got around to buying one, we looked at each other and said "$35?" "Nah."

We live in the woods with lots of evergreens--white pines and hemlocks. When i was single, throughout my 20s and 30s, i used to take my saw into the woods and cut down a sort-of-full little hemlock. "How about a hemlock?" i asked Bill. To my surprise, he agreed.

We found our woodsy hemlock (read: thin) and now we have this 3-foot tall "branch" sitting on a table. "It's a real Charlie Brown tree," says Bill. I admit. It is a pathetic looking Christmas tree.

We may judge our meditation efforts as being rather pathetic. Still, a 3-minute meditation is a meditation. A minute of loving-kindness is a minute of wholesomeness.

Even a  little Christmas tree can bring light into my life. Even a little mindfulness, a little kindness can light up your life.

The Old Christmas Tree

Today i am taking down the Christmas tree. Actually, i'm just taking the lights off of it, and setting it outside the front door, in its tree stand, in the white garden. Instant landscaping! Suddenly, i have a nice little wintry fir tree in my front yard.

At the end of our lives, we still want to be useful, even if we are old and brittle. Doing good deeds, even little good deeds, makes our lives worth living. Even invisible good deeds, such as acting benevolently toward others and wishing them well is a way to make ourselves useful and to benefit our fellow human beings.

My dried-up old Christmas tree will bring a smile to my face for another 2 months.

Lights in the Season of Darkness

Our Christmas tree is up. This year i'm decorating it only with lights--no ornaments. An uncluttered look, emphasizing lights in this season of darkness.

Where do we find our inner light in dark times? Meditation. Meditation. Meditation.

The other evening a Dharma friend talked about finding happiness in the midst of pain. Very early in my meditation practice, after the break-up of a relationship, i noted "Sorrow. Sorrow. Joy. Sorrow." and was completely surprised by that one-half second "vacation" of joy.

The blackness of the dark times turns out not to be as solid as we had imagined.

Light up the dark with mindfulness.

Juncos in the Christmas Tree

The birds are loving the Christmas tree that provided my "instant landscaping" near the front door. I see juncos hiding in the balsam fir, looking for protection from winter winds and high-flying hawks.

We too are subtly looking for protection as we go through our daily lives. We want to be safe, and we do this by going places we know and being with people we know via texting or phoning.

We could simply be safe in the here and the now, in the unk-now-n. Because every moment is new.

Really every moment is unknown. And we are safe.

Photo from ohio-nature.com

More Space

With the departure of the Christmas tree, there's suddenly more space in the solarium. Sweeping up all those fir needles also means that it's clean. Our energy flows more fluidly in a clean space. The solarium is a place i want to be.


I took the Christmas clean-up as a time to "depart" a few more Christmas trimmings. The Christmas closet itself is beginning to look rather airy. The white ceramic Christmas tree made by my grandmother is being shipped off to a nephew. I've enjoyed it and enjoyed remembering my grandmother for 25 years. Now, it's time to pass this memento along to the next generation.

"Less is more." More space, more energy, more time, more calm.

Make more room in your life. What one thing can you give away today? What one "to-do" can you give up today?

Christmas Tree Redux

We took down the Christmas tree and carried it outdoors. And there we set it up again in a snowbank, known in other seasons as my white garden. Now that garden is well and truly white--with snow. For the next ten weeks, we have a tree standing near the front door, sort of defining the white garden with a bit of vertical greenery. Instant landscaping!

We did this while the temperature was still above freezing and the wet snow could be shoveled and then banked around the base of the tree. Two hours later, the temperature dropped below freezing and now the tree  and its stand are frozen solidly into the icy snow for the next three days as temperatures drop back into the single numbers.

We think of our words and actions as changeable, pliable, melting away on the next breath.

Yet, if we repeat the same thought or the same action over and over, the neural pathway forms a rut, and a habit becomes frozen in place. A habit becomes part of our inner landscape, and we start to believe that's who we really are.

Let's watch our thoughts and actions carefully and make sure that they are in accord with our highest intentions. Let's plant mindfulness right at the front door of our mouth.

A Bath of Mindfulness

In order to make way for the Christmas tree, a few hanging plants had to find temporary homes elsewhere--the bathtub.

The bathtub on the first floor is seldom used anymore. It is extremely convenient for watering the plants. In fact, the Swedish ivy, the variegated ivy, and the arrow-leaf philodendron are looking better than they have since their summer vacation outdoors. Maybe they should just continue to live in the bathtub?

Bathing ourselves in mindfulness makes us calmer and less stressed.
Take a bath in mindfulness today.

P.S. (Yes, that plaid tile is from the 1970s.)

A Tradition of Christmas Trees

"Did you grow up with a Christmas tree?" i asked my Jewish neighbor.

Lynn shook her head and frowned, as if to say, "No way!"

"So when did you start having a Christmas tree?" i asked.

"When our daughter was in kindergarten. She brought home Christmas tree ornaments."

Lynn's daughter is 31 now, but the Christmas tree is still adorned with elementary school style decorations.

Another Jewish friend said, "Christmas tree? Naw," and shook his head.

How do we feel about adopting a new tradition? Sometimes it slides in easily. Sometimes, it just doesn't fit.

We can try on the possibility of taking refuge, finding a sanctuary in our meditation practice. Formally, we could consider saying:
I go for refuge in the Buddha.
I go for refuge in the Dharma.
I go for refuge in the Sangha.

"I go for refuge in the Buddha" means considering the possibility of awakening. "Buddha" means "awakened." Do we have faith that awakening is possible, maybe just for one split-second at a time?

"I go for refuge in the Dharma" means going for refuge in the teaching of the Buddha. As a Christian neighbor says, "I prefer Jesus because he seems more compassionate. But i like the teachings of the Buddha because they are so internally consistent."

"I go for refuge to the Sangha" means our group of meditating friends. Sometimes that group is just 2 people, me and one other person. That's enough.

Try on this new tradition. See if it fits. Be a refugee from your busy life, and take refuge in the safety of the present moment.

Clogged Openness

Our 3-week-old Christmas tree hasn't lost any needles yet. My sweetie has been watering the tree with boiling water. The other day, the tree drank almost all the tea kettle. Supposedly, boiling water melts the resin that clogs the pores in the stump.

The 91-year-old neighbor who taught us this trick said her tree sprouts new growth in February.

What clogs up our own openness?

We try to protect our feelings, our hearts, and our sense of self. We each have our own methods--irritation, anxiety, denial, or many others.

We can warm up our heart, perhaps simply by placing our hand on our heart. "Yes, yes. There, there now."

Our heart melts, and we too can have the resilience of new (personal) growth.

The Present of Less Stress

We're leaving home the day after Christmas, so we got an early start to the holiday season by buying a 3-foot tall tree. It's smaller than my ficus, my banana plant, a palm, the hibiscus, and the bird of paradise. It's a tabletop tree with one string of lights, so that it will be really easy to de-decorate on Christmas Day.

On the one hand, i feel like my grandmother, whose holiday trees shrunk over the years to eventually fit on an end table beside the sofa. Am i really that old?

On the other hand, i am noticing a lack of stress. I set up the tree all by myself in about 5 minutes. Maybe i won't even open the big storage box of Christmas decorations.

Less stress. Now there's a Christmas present in the present moment!

A Wild Christmas Tree

In late November, the tree service came and cut the tops off 3 hemlocks that were beginning to block our view. I dragged one of the crowns up to the house, and Bill cut off the bottom four feet. The green-needled branches still stretch for the sunlight, but now the treetop is based in a red-and-green Christmas tree stand.

I actually prefer the spaciousness among the branches of a wild tree because i can see the decorations hanging in thin air, much as mindfulness can help us notice the--sometimes very small--space between the thoughts that consume our attention. What we assumed was a solid background of constant thinking turns out to be flashes separated by space.

I love having a tree from our own woods living indoors with us. Covered with lights, it reminds us of a sun-blessed greener season.