


I was reading earlier today, while waiting for the ferry, in the pocket size Pema Chodron book Awakening Loving-Kindness which I carry in my bag. I was reading about the Buddhist idea of practicing gratitude for our precious human birth. The idea is that we are supremely fortunate to experience these human lives, which are neither relentlessly painful nor numbingly comfortable. We are in the ideal environment, the optimal circumstance, for growth and awakening. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, this little zone of potential on the continuum between comfort and pain. We hear a lot about "getting out of our comfort zone" and "finding our edge," but it's easy to forget the delicacy and sense of equilibrium needed to find the growth zone instead of just pushing right into pain. In our culture we seem to hold both the ideal of luxuriating in comfort and the ideal of aggressive ambition. Many of us end up in a cycle of alternating workaholism and indulgence in pursuit of these ideals, then wonder why we're not growing or experiencing fulfillment. It's a fine balance, finding that sweet spot, the zone of growth. The physical practice of yoga can teach us; we find the ease and energy in the pose when we push ourselves enough but not too much. Paying close attention to the cycles of nature can teach us; sometimes tuning in to the natural equilibrium around us all the time just knocks me down with awe. Most of all we can learn by listening deeply to our own intuition and body wisdom. Where have you found your zone of growth? What practices do you use to nurture equilibrium?


Finally. It was a cold winter and a late spring. The wild plums at the back of the meadow that have been known to burst into blossom in February are only just now in full frill and celebration. I love plum blossoms, their modesty and delicacy, their soft fragrance and the vulnerability of their petals beginning to open before the leaves on rough, bare, gnarled branches. The plum blossom is a poignant symbol of hope and resilience, beauty and impermanence. I can understand why this symbol is so beloved in Japan & China, by poets and painters. Here are a few lines from “The Fisherman” by Li Po:And now the plum trees are blossoming once more.
My favourite walk takes me down a long spit of land between a small salmon bearing stream and the ocean. The path next to the creek is gently sheltered, and finally opens up onto a wild part of the beach. This is what I saw the other day when I emerged from the creek path. A small, but walkable Classical Labyrinth laid out in oyster shells, affirming my recent life theme of focus, centredness, and one-ness with the world. I also wanted to share with you this wonderful quote that I came across recently in a favourite magazine:

I took this photo at Spring Equinox. I was sitting at the kitchen counter with the family at breakfast time, talking about the specialness of the day, dark and light equal, first day of spring, a day of promise and balance. I then pronounced (just for fun, because I heard it somewhere once,) "you know, this is the only day of the year you can stand an egg on it's end!" We all chuckled, my daughter grabbed an egg to give it a try, then my sweetie tried too, and pronounced it impossible. I said (with bravado) "I'll show you!", grabbed the egg, and set it on the counter, first try, just as you see it above. We all sat for a moment in shocked silence. Then I grabbed the camera. So I thought I would share this today, another egg holiday. I'm wishing you all a peaceful, abundant, joyful, and BALANCED springtime!