Baby, It's Cold Out There

The rhododendrons are talking to us. Baby, it's cold out here. With temperatures in the single digits, i agree.

The rhododendrons have folded up their leaves for warmth. We can find inner warmth in our heart. 

By opening our heart, we feel warmly toward people, pets, and places. And, as ever, what the world needs now is love, sweet love. It's the only thing that so little of is expressed.

Start with gratitude and feel whether a little spark, a little ember glows somewhere in the body--maybe around the heart, maybe in the hands or the belly.

Experiment with spreading that warmth throughout the body. Feel the sensations in the body and keep your attention there.

Eventually, the sun will warm the rhododendrons. Meanwhile, I'm sending warmth to you, dear reader.

 

Hyacinths Sprouting

The hyacinth bulbs i began forcing in December are sprouting green now down in my basement. I'm bringing them up to warmth and sun in the kitchen, one by one.

What's hibernating in the basement of your heart? Some delayed dream? A spiritual path that heads off in a direction you can't quite see? A desire for peace? A yearning to rest from restlessness? A hunger for happiness?

Sit. Only sit and wait.  Don't distract yourself with busy-ness. Your authentic self will bloom when it's ready.

photo by Nancy Riege

Lettuce Wagon

My meditation friend Paula grew her lettuce in containers this summer and had lettuce all summer long. Here's how she did it: She put her pots of lettuce in a wagon. In the morning, she let it welcome the sunny day; in the afternoon, she wheeled the wagon into the shade. On 90 degree days, she parked her lettuce wagon in her cool basement.

What's the best climate for growing our mindfulness?

I sit outdoors on the deck at 6 a.m. The coolness keeps me alert. Even just a little warmth can make me wilt.

And what good is wilted lettuce?

The Yoga Retreat Begins

Our yoga retreat has begun. My neighbors flew down yesterday (and avoided a big New England snowstorm). Now 10 of us are living at an Italian villa here in Puerto Rico.

The top floor is our yoga room / balcony. The middle floor is a 3-bedroom condo, which sleeps six. And the bottom floor is a 2-bedroom condo, which sleeps 4.

We had our first yoga class at 9 this morning--a leisurely hour-and-a-half. What a great way to start the day. Actually, one neighbor and i meditated at 7. That's how we started our day.

Meditation. Yoga. Meals with friends. Relaxing in the warmth and grateful for this blessing of neighborly love.

Paperwhites Are Bloomng

The first paperwhite bulbs that i began forcing 2 weeks ago is beginning to bloom. That was fast.

We too can bloom, given the right conditions--water, sun, warmth of heart.

Listen here to a guided meditation--A Flower in Your Heart.

The Desert of Winter

This morning the temperature is above freezing--34 degrees. "Wow! It's warm out," my neighbors say to each other. Our coats are unzipped, and i'm wearing just a light fleece jacket. After a week or two of zero degrees Fahrenheit, 32 degrees feels like a heat wave.

Ice is melting, but we're not fooled. We're still wearing our yak-traks, our Stabil-Icers (studded snow tires for your feet), or micro-spike crampons, even to simply walk across the driveway.

My unheated garage is six degrees warmer than outdoors, so i take advantage of this heat wave to water the 65 pots of tulips and spring bulbs i have sitting in the garage. Winter is a desert of a sort, with water frozen and therefore unavailable to plants. The flowerpots have been frozen solid for the last 2 weeks, but now they are thinking of thawing. Just in case little tulip bulb roots are slowly growing in those flower pots, i don't want them to be parched.

Winter is a time when we ourselves feel parched--for sunshine and for warmth. Yet we all have a warm heart, if we simply take the time to notice, take the time to feel. Unzip the armor around your heart, and trust that your heart is indeed flowering.

If you need a reminder, check out my guided meditation A Flower in Your Heart.