Meditation at Pine Neck Beach

    
                                                            Pine Neck Beach 5-21-15
     
      I live surrounded by water, two short blocks to a beach on Peconic Bay, which divides the north and south forks of the East End of Long Island. The beach on the bay side is rockier and the water more shallow than the ocean beaches five miles away. But it's close and friendly to this user,  being a two minute walk away. I look forward to kayaking off that beach or  launching from the little cove behind it soon. Or maybe just hanging out on a noodle in the water when it gets a little hotter.

     I took myself to Pine Neck Beach this morning for my meditation. The air was cool, but pleasant. As I settled myself on one of several memorial benches neighbors have placed there, I closed my eyes and began to breathe a little more deeply. The cool air was from a northerly breeze and it warmed as it came through my nostrils and went to my lungs. The breeze cooled my face, but not uncomfortably. Normally at this hour so close to Memorial Day weekend, the bang of hammers would compete with leaf blowers and other machine noises to disturb the  tranquility. Not so this day. The main sounds were the breeze-driven mini-waves on the bay, various birds calling back and forth, and the odd jet airliner far aloft, heading into New York almost 100 miles away. I could also hear a truck grinding up on Noyack Road. A beach neighborhood slowly coming to life was the setting for my attempt to quiet the mind and heart, and remember my place in it all.

     What I am slowly learning to accept is that I don't have to do this meditation thing perfectly for it to have meaning and impact on my life. Attempting to harmonize my breathing and my body with this air, redolent with life and energy,  is its own result......getting just a little more quiet and a little more peaceful in my acceptance of this moment, that all is indeed well and that I don't have to do anything.......that's plenty of result. Healing my jagged edges and jangled nerves for just a few minutes? Priceless.

     There's something iconic about water for us as humans. We're soothed by it, stretched by it, become better when we're near it often.....not in some moral accountancy way, but in a soul and spirit enriching way. I feel paradoxically smaller and larger being by it -- smaller as a part of a vast web of life and matter above and below the waters -- and larger for being able to celebrate the whole of it, loving its wide vistas and deep currents. Glory and honor to creation and its Maker.

     



   

Millstone Road Messages

         I take Millstone Road just about every day, sometimes more than once. The South Fork of eastern Long Island has a high ridge, a spine of woods and hills that runs east and west. Millstone Road bisects that ridge and runs a few miles through stands of hardwoods and a sparse collection of driveways and side roads with a few houses along the way. It's a lovely ride and never fails to ground me in some kind of peace.

                                                                     May 18, 2015

          At the wilderness men's experience I attended a few weeks ago, our leader, Belden C. Lane, invited us to listen and see what the creatures of the woods around us might have to teach us. Nature speaks, and speaks profoundly, he said,  if we can get quiet enough inside to listen. I am so often not that quiet. Also, the cynical and sarcastic part of me thought of Harve Presnell in the movie version of PAINT YOUR WAGON singing, "I Talk to the Trees." That's where my mind can go. Luckily, my heart had some other ideas beyond smart-ass. In those days in the high hills of West Virginia, I heard several deep lessons from the forest creatures that still echo in my heart. I decided to see if I might get any similar messages driving along Millstone Road.

     So one morning last week, I set my intention as I drove up the road to Bridgehampton. I promptly let my mind wander off to a pleasant thought about a woman friend. Suddenly, a beautiful deer, a big doe, dashed in front of my Highlander, narrowly missing me. "Wake up! Pay attention!" I clearly heard her say in my head, and I could have sworn she looked at me disapprovingly. So I started to pay attention and get present. The trees are still filling out their spring clothing of buds and leaves, and were telling me to stand tall, grow, and put forth life in some new ways today. Three turkeys poked about alongside the road, and their lessons were about being crafty and industrious. The little birds flitting in and through the trees and across the road were saying, "Be swift and try to be a grace note in this life." A final thought as I came out of the woods part of the road to some meadow areas: the life of this beautiful woods draws food and energy from the dead leaves and branches that fall to its floor and decompose. New life, born in part out of death. An Easter thought.

     Thank you, my Millstone Road teachers. I'll try to be a better listener and observer so as not to miss what I am constantly being offered. So much to learn and hear and see. Deo gratias.

             

Being Quiet Is Hard

     My last blog was almost two years ago. Lately I've been concentrating on a major writing and rewriting of my historical novel about early Southampton NY ( of that, more soon).But I'm back, still committed to exploring what a fresh approach to spirituality in our life might look like.
     I recently participated in a men's experience in West Virginia where the leaders  recommended a daily practice of silence (they call it "contemplative sit"). Imagine a cold, gray early morning in the Appalachian foothills; 65 men in various stages of sleepiness walk up a path for a quarter of a mile. They then arrive in stages at a rude amphitheatre of cut logs alongside a strong flowing stream. A leader says a few words of encouragement and then signals the start of the closed- eyes, silent meditation. The social support of 65 guys doing this was very encouraging and made doing it easier.
     I've kept the practice up every morning but one of the last ten days, but I won't lie--it's been hard. My "monkey mind" keeps throwing up images and thoughts from the lofty to the very earthy. I'll have moments of letting go and resting in the Father's love ("beloved son" is my return word)  .....but, boy, does my mind want to hijack me. Our prayer leaders at Rolling Ridge assured us this is normal and to be expected and even welcome .......my take on their wise encouragement is that each of us needs to learn to manage the distractions of our nervous minds -- why? To discover the deeper self, our true face within, where the mind rests peaceful and quiet, even if only for a moment -- that can be enough. A mind not agitated, one that is grateful and not fussing over a thousand things.
     I believe and I know that I am a beloved son of God, in my tradition a brother to Christ and each member of His body, both living and gone to glory. Struggling each morning to silently appreciate that is its own reward. I don't have to be "good"at it to reap the benefit. All I need to do is "suit up and show up." And I find some peace, if only for a few moments. That's enough.