Four Directions – Page 4 – Karen's New York Love Affair

Springing into the light

Friday was the first day of spring: the tipping point when day and night are equal, and now the days are getting longer. More light brings warmth to the earth, helping new life to grow.

I went up into the mountains to check out the snow on my favourite running trail, and found that the trail is almost entirely clear! Even better, I started my run at 6:42 PM, and when I finished it was still light out. Ah, the relief of passing through another winter. We survived the long dark nights, and the trials of the cold time. The reward is longer days, the golden light of spring, and the beauty of spring flowers and budding trees.

Eagle is associated with the direction of the east, which is the direction of the spring time. Eagle symbolizes seeing with a new perspective. The eagle is known to fly the highest of the birds, and has symbolic significance in many cultures throughout history. It is hard to see in the dark, so the turning of the wheel into the light of spring brings an increase of vision, a wider perspective, and an opening into perceiving what is going on in the outer world outside the home. It is a time of transformation and new beginnings.

The element associated with spring is fire—the fire of the sun rise at dawn. The fire that burns away what is no longer needed, making room for new life, new growth, new expression. Meditate on this. What are you ready to burn away in your life? What new form wants to be born into the light? How will you bring your gifts into the world this year?

The white air of winter

Winter is coming to an end. We’ve already begun Daylight Savings. The first day of spring is March 20. But there’s still a stinging bite of cold in the air in Vancouver, and we had snow a few days ago, which is still clinging to my back deck. At my sister’s place in Horsefly they still have five feet of snow on the ground!

So let’s celebrate some of the qualities of winter before it slips away. The colour for the winter (north) part of the wheel is white. And the element is air. Both of these make sense in northern climates, where a winter storm can turn the whole world into a mass of white, with no discernible difference between sky and land. It was like this at my new home overlooking the Burrard Inlet during the snow storm a few days ago. The entire inlet was filled with white clouds, totally blocking out the mountains across the way, and even the water of the harbour. Fat white flakes drifted lazily through the air, against the background of white. So it is easy to see the literal meaning of the white and air qualities associated with the north.

But there are deeper meanings to these qualities. In the Sufi teaching of the lataif, which are subtle centres in the body, the white aspect is located in the solar plexus, and is associated with will. Will can take on many flavours, but the essence of it is support. This can feel like the solid support of a snow-capped mountain, or the soft fluffy support of white clouds. When a person is in touch with this aspect of their being, it feels like there is no strain or effort required to sit up straight or stand tall. There is an ease to one’s experience of oneself and events. Connecting to will in a deeper way, one moves from the personal will to a sense of universal will, which can feel like a vast slow movement of air, space, water, or even of being on a vast spaceship travelling through the sky. The association with air is evident at the deepest experience of universal will, and in the more superficial experience of being supported by soft clouds, as if this substance of support is in the air all around one.

I recently moved to a new home that is surrounded by space, with open expanses in all directions, and with a fairly large body of water below. Being in this beautiful place, so close to nature, with seagulls and bald-headed eagles soaring outside my window, I have been feeling a sense of being part of the vast movement of universal will. It has carried me here to this new home. Its movements feel mysterious and purposeful. While the turning of the earth and the wheel feel circular, the movement of the universal will (wheel?) feels bigger to me, bigger than a planet. And the movement seems to be in a straight line, though maybe it is just so vast that there is no discernable turning to it.

The support of universal will manifests as a sense that this vast force is causing all manifestation to occur, so I don’t actually need to do anything but go along for the ride. It is quite a switch from feeling that I have to make everything happen! One small way I have let this affect me is to not “try” to create a parking space by asking the parking gods to have one ready for me at such-and-such location. Instead, I am just trusting that I will find a good spot. This seems like a very small thing, and I guess it is a small shift in my life. But I feel the difference. Instead of trying, and making an effort, I am saving that little bit of energy by trusting in the universe. And this brings a feeling of relaxation into my experience of parking.

The universal will has carried you through the events and passages of your life too, and here to this web site. Since you are here, maybe there’s a reason! I invite you to explore the energy of the north by going to an open place outside that is exposed to the wind. Let the wind blow over you and through you. Let it empty you. Revel in the cold and emptiness. This is a gift of the north.

Winter in Vancouver: service not snowplowing

As I have mentioned before, I am spending this winter in Vancouver. I wanted to stay at Monkey Valley, to enjoy the incredible stillness that comes when the entire landscape is blanketed in white. But it was not to be; the snow plow company was unable to commit to plowing my roads to keep them open for the winter. I was unable to risk getting snowed in for several months, given my commitments to my people here in Vancouver; teaching yoga to the youths in prison in Burnaby, and assisting my chapter of the Society for Technical Communication as its president. Both of these require my presence in Vancouver occasionally, though ironically my technical writing work does not, as it is conducted entirely by phone and internet.

Yesterday morning I found a light dusting of snow in the backyard of my place in Vancouver, and at Christmas time there was actually over a foot of snow! Very unusual weather for Vancouver, but it was a nice compensation for missing out on the snow at Monkey Valley.

I didn’t give up easily on spending the winter in Monkey Valley. I looked into what would be involved in plowing the roads myself this winter, and came up with several options:

4-wheeler with blade attachment or blower attachment
hand-held and pushed/walked powered snow blower
custom-built blower attachment for my Tracker
tractor with blade or blower attachment

As well as costing anywhere from $1,000 to over $10,000, these options would also require me to do the work, which is to plow 7 KM of road. The time this takes varies depending on the type of equipment, but would be a minimum of 1-2 hours for that length of road each time a few inches of snow falls. Given the 8 inches of snow that fell in early December, I was glad I made the decision to leave when I did. I just did not want to spend my whole winter plowing the road, as much fun as that might be! Maybe next year.

Of the options I mentioned, I think mounting a snowblower on my Tracker would be the best way to go. It would involve permanently altering the vehicle’s front bumper, and attaching to a point higher on the front of the car as well, so it would definitely alter the appearance of the car. But why buy a 4-wheeler or tractor when the Tracker has more power and can do the job!? MORE POWER!!!! As Tim Allen used to say on Home Improvement.

So I have been enjoying serving my people in Vancouver this winter. I recently taught a class I developed, called Yoga for the Office, at the STC’s January program meeting. It went really well. It was a thrill to teach to many people who had never tried yoga before, to help them feel the benefits of it for themselves. The treasurer of the chapter told me it made her headache go away, and the public relations person said her shoulder ache disappeared. Plus people had various interesting experiences of changed mental states due to the breathing we did. So I was very pleased with how the class turned out. I am considering offering this one-hour workshop to offices in the Lower Mainland. Please let me know if you’re interested!

Digging a hole

Here it is, December already. The time of the west is drawing to a close, enticing us to move around the wheel to the north. But sometimes, in our solitude, we can get stuck in the west. Especially for those of us who enjoy the introspection that the west evokes. Going inward for healing and to increase our self-understanding is a vital function that the west supports us to undertake. Yet the purpose of this growth and learning is to emerge renewed, strengthened in our resolve to bring our gifts to our people. That is, we do the work of the west in preparation for the turning of the wheel onward to the north, which is the direction where we take our place with our people, and contribute to our community.

Digging a hole is an excellent way to enjoy the energies of the west while turning, turning, to the north. It is a physical expression of digging down, earthing ourselves, but because it is work, a task, with a physical nature and clear results, it helps us embody our west nature and bring it into the north, into the place of contributing to our people. For someone who is feeling depressed (stuck in the darkness of the west), a concrete physical activity like digging a hole is a great way to use the element of the west—earth—to bring about a shift. The energy evoked by the hard physical work of digging charges us with the red of the south. While the task that the hole will serve to fulfill brings in the energy of work, service, and contribution of the north. It is not so hard to dig a hole—with enough effort, just about anyone can do it. But the fact of the doing it helps us feel confident in our capacities to function and contribute—evoking the confidence of the will aspect of our true nature, which is associated with the north.

As I mentioned previously, my street sign for Starshine Way was STOLEN! So in the next few postings, I’m going to tell you the story of digging a hole for my new sign. To be continued…

Roads, signs, and what the heck is Mercury retrograde?

What the heck is Mercury retrograde? On this blog I have been talking about the Four Directions model of noticing how humans are part of nature’s cycles. Being in rhythm with these cycles can help us flow through our lives more smoothly. It doesn’t make sense to plant a seed in the frozen ground—knowing how the cycles work tells us that the spring is the best time to plant most kinds of seeds, and this knowledge can guide us in knowing when to start new projects too.

Just as we are affected by the changing seasons, the cycles of the stars and planets can affect us too. And once every three months, the planet Mercury appears to move backwards in its orbit (retrograde) in relation to the earth. Of course it doesn’t actually turn around and move backwards, but it looks like it does, and for many of us, this period has a noticeable impact.

In astrology, the planet Mercury rules communications, travel, electronics, and equipment with moving parts. During the period of Mercury retrograde, any of these things can go awry! If a piece of equipment is about to break down, it will most likely occur during MR. Travel plans can have kinks and delays. It is a terrible time to sign contracts, because some key piece of information will be missing. It will sure enough come to light after Mercury turns direct, and make you rue the day you bought that new laptop!

Some examples from the current MR period for me: I ordered the new road sign for Starshine Way, and a month later I learned that Fun-Key hasn’t started working on the sign—they haven’t even ordered the plate to put the letters on, and can’t order it until they get enough sign orders to make a bulk purchase worthwhile. As another example, I’ve been waiting since September 12 for a quote from VSA for the snow plowing, and finally I heard from them that they can’t give me a service contract for my road. It will be third-priority, and if I can get them to do it at all I will pay an hourly rate based on the type of equipment they use. Neither of these things is a big deal, but it is a stalling of forward movement. What I wanted to resolve is still unresolved. I have to find someone else to make the sign, and some other way of getting my road plowed. (And BTW, in a previous MR period, when my laptop died, I did make the mistake of buying a new one. Great price. What I didn’t realize was that it had Windows Vista, and I would have to buy all new software to run on it!)

So what is the positive here? What is MR good for? As the “re” in retrograde hints at, it is a good time for re-doing things. Re-writing. Repairing. Rewiring. It is also a good time for researching. It is a great time for reconnecting with people from the past. Revisiting a favourite place. You might be surprised if you start paying attention to MR periods and notice how a relative or old friend pops up out of the blue during this period. Or perhaps you have a sudden interest in making contact with a friend from the past.

And what about rest? That begins with “re” too. And resting fits with the season of the West. The fall is the time when the black bear goes into her den, earthing herself for a time of hibernation and turning inwards. After the busy outward activity of the summer, it is good to take a rest! Can you give yourself the space for a retreat this October? Some time and space for yourself? Sometimes that’s the best thing to do during Mercury retrograde.

One good place for a retreat, near Merritt, is Dhamma Surabhi, the Vipassana Meditation Centre of BC. Ten days of silent meditation!

The mystery of the West

The West asks us: Who am I? What in me is dying?

It is the place of oncoming darkness, endings, mystery, shadow, subconscious, dreams and visions, soul, self-discovery, introspection, introversion, transition, descent into the depths of the psyche, and inner power.

Here we wrestle with adolescence and grow toward individuation and our adult-self.

Here is the dark night of the soul.

This is the place where we earth ourselves.

The Passage: Soul Initiation

Initiation into adulthood occurs the moment we commit to the embodiment of our self-knowing in the world. Taking our self-awareness and self-understanding, we find a way to bring our gifts forth to our people. This is when we move around the wheel, from West to North. We move in the next direction clockwise, with the movement of the Earth. With the movement we find balance.

If we get stuck in the West, it can show up as addiction to introspection, dark moods, depression, our shadow selves. We are taking too much energy from the East, not allowing that part of ourselves to have expression. Sometimes we get stuck in depression, grieving our losses too long. Or we might identify ourselves as victims.

Ways to move to the North if we are stuck in the West

* Find a way to give service to others. Volunteer.

* The elements always evoke the direction, so working with the elements can be a tool. Go out on a windy day and feel the wind sweeping through your soul, emptying you.

* Watch birds, a beautiful expression of the air element.

* Go out into nature and make a tool.

* Make a gift for someone.

* Focus on the colour white. Watch white clouds in the sky. Contemplate a piece of white cloth or paper. Paint something white. Wear the colour white.

Wild women run in the dark!

The West is the place of darkness, black, the night. I wonder if night owls enjoy hanging out in the West part of the wheel, and early birds prefer the East.

For just about as long as I’ve been running (since I quit smoking for the first successful time—lasting three years—in 1996), I’ve run at night. Not always, but when life’s demands take up all the daylight hours. People have various reactions to this, but it’s usually a mixture of shock and concern. Fear of the unknown, I think. With one boyfriend, it was a surefire way to know he cared for me (and engage in some negative merging). All I had to do was mention a night run and he’d freak out!

Running at night has an entirely different feel to it, whether in the city or in the country. In the city, I find it is way more peaceful to run after dark, when people are at home and asleep. The humming vibration of the city settles at night. Even those I might encounter out walking their dogs are shrouded in darkness. It is easier to ignore them, to stay in my own inner space. There is an unspoken agreement among the night walkers, to respect the privacy of the darkness.

The meditative space of night running is something I love about it. There’s not much to look at, so the feel of the running becomes the rhythmic back section for reverie. It’s easy to sink into an altered state of awareness, imagination, inspiration.

Last night I ran in the misty mountain darkness of the Lower Seymour Conservation Reserve. Listening to Led Zeppelin (what is and what should never be, the battle of evermore, when the levee breaks) on the drive out there helped set the mood for entering a magical land of darkness. I parked on Lynn Valley Road, due to the ridiculous parking restriction of 6 PM in the LSCR parking lot. Crossing the wooden footbridge that arcs high above Lynn Creek, I entered the darkness of the woods.

It took about eight minutes of gravel trail running through the woods to get to the LSCR parking lot. As I first entered the woods thoughts of mountain lions crossed my mind. For some reason they always do on this stretch of road! Dressed all in black, maybe I could pass for a bear. But my roar just wouldn’t have the power to convince! Anyway, with this lame strategy in place, I continued on to the LSCR parking lot and from there onto my favourite loop trail, down the Twin Bridges Trail to the Seymour River, following the river North along Fisherman’s Trail, and then up the bun-burning Homestead Trail back up to the parking lot.

I’ve done this loop at least 100 times over the past five years or so—probably more. I’ve done it walking in the dark with a friend, so I know which parts are the blackest. I wasn’t worried about losing my way or falling into a pit or off a cliff! I could just let my feet and belly find the way as I sensed into the deep mystery of the night. It is hypnotic, the way a luminous white sheen fills the air on the trail in front of me. This effect is heightened when there is a mist like last night.

I was just enjoying this luminosity, and the rhythm of the running, as I ran down the long easy stretch of Twin Bridges Trail. Then suddenly I heard a sound like a chicken crowing, about chest height, in the trees ahead and to the left. It was so loud and close, I stopped for a moment. My mind translated the sound into a human imitating a chicken, trying to attract some kind of night bird! It didn’t feel totally threatening, but I was definitely startled. The call was such a definite pronouncement, I said “Oh, really. Are you sure about that?”

Only silence answered, so I continued on. I realized as I replayed the sound in my mind it must be an owl call. It was a new sound for me, accustomed to the call of the great grey owls at Monkey Valley. Although it had a hooting quality, the range and pattern of notes was more complex. I’ll have to look it up in the bird books when I get home, and see if I can find out who was greeting me in the darkness of the misty autumn woods.

Like the music before the run, this encounter supported the magical feeling of running in the night. It was a blissful run right until the end, an hour later, back up the paved access to Lynn Valley Road. Wild women run in the dark!

Taking a night walk (or run) is always a good way to explore the territory of the West. Try it!

P.S. For those who might be feeling confused right now, I keep an apartment in Vancouver as well as my home at Monkey Valley. This was a Vancouver night run, in the North Shore mountains.

Falling into the West

Tomorrow is the first day of October. The fall equinox has passed. The wheel has definitely turned from summer to fall, from South to West. The four shields model of working with nature and psyche has much to teach us, and enticing doorways of exploration to offer through the West.

To place the West in the context of a wheel, picture that the North is at the top of the wheel. Then moving clockwise, East is at the right of the wheel. Continuing clockwise, South is at the bottom of the wheel, and the West is at the left side.

Each direction has different qualities associated with it. Are these qualities inherent to the direction? I would say sometimes they are not, though often they seem to be. For example, in the northern hemisphere, the North is ultimately the direction of the North Pole, which is white with ice and snow. At least it will be for a while longer, I hope. So to associate white with the North makes sense. But in the southern hemisphere, it would make more sense to associate white with the South, because in the South is the icy South Pole and Antarctica.

The East is associated with the colour yellow, which makes sense when you consider the sun rising in the East. Similarly, the West is associated with the colour black, in part because the sun sinks below the horizon in the West, causing darkness to fall. The South is associated with the colour red, and there are reasons for this as well, which I will discuss another day.

The interesting thing about the colours is that peoples from all over the world have devised systems similar to the four shields, including the medicine wheel of the North American plains peoples and the wheel cosmology of the Dagara people of Africa, and they choose the primary colours of the earth and sky—red, black or blue, white, yellow, green—although they may place the colours in different directions of the wheel.

Returning to the question of whether the directions have qualities inherent in them, I have come to view the four shields and other models as ways of organizing and working with aspects of reality, including the outer world and our inner nature. The four shields can be used as a tool for contemplation and understanding, just as the I ching, runes, tarot cards, and many other tools can help us look at an issue in our life and see something new.

Over the next few postings I will be exploring more qualities of the West with you. I invite you to join in an exploration of the West.

The West

Hatred glitters like polished obsidian funeral beads. A sharp and brittle shining jet-black shell. Its sharp edges cut. The hating heart wants to be cut, slashed with razor blades until every scrap of vulnerable human heart flesh is gone. Cut away to leave rib bones clean white, shining, curving open to empty cavern. A bowl of emptiness. Nothing left to steal.

The portal to peace is empty space. Heel turned sharply to walk away. Mid sentence. Words fall into the emptiness. Approximation. The real beloved awaits in the vast stillness on the other side of emptiness. Yes! Cut away and annihilate these false lovers. Sucking leeches stealing power. Dissolve into the black crystal waters of the night.

The west is the looks-within place. There is much that can be explored here. Issues of hatred and power. Questions of identity. Who am I? This is the question of the adolescent, and adolescence also lives in the west part of the wheel. The element is earth—think of a bear hibernating, earthing in her den. Darkness. The fall. The guardian of the west is the anima or animus. For a woman, initially it is her father’s view of her that she needs to wrestle with, to see through how she has been patterned by this view. Is it true? Who is she really? For a man, it is his mother’s view of him that guards the doorway to the west.

One exercise for exploring issues of the west is to take a night walk. Maybe even sing to your inner man or woman. Woo him or her. Once the parent’s wishes have been worked with, the inner figure of the opposite gender can become our lover—our true love. I don’t know how this inner lover plays out for gays, lesbians, and people of other genders than the usual two. The west would be an area to explore these questions, though. Who am I?

Another exercise for looking into the blackness of the west is to find a hole in nature and spend a few hours looking into it. If you dare, put your face right in it. I sought out a badger hole for this purpose on my last vision fast. It was clearly abandoned, fringed with cobwebs. I still didn’t dare put my face in it. I sat there a while. A big black beetle, almost two inches long, with legs an inch long, crawled out of the hole. Another beetle was crawling around on the sandy bottom. This exercise is bullshit, I thought. I want to see a badger. I spit in the hole. The beetle drank some of the spit.