Before Dawn

A few times this week I’ve woken up around 4:15 am.  Intellectually this would be a good time to get up – no harsh sun and temperatures in the low 80’s.  Yet, I invariably fall back to sleep for another hour or so.  Today I decided to just try getting up and staying up.

I went into the kitchen and put my breakfast on.  This morning it would be cauliflower chicken curry and my usual cup of germinated brown rice.   I put the two into a small cast iron pan and turned the electric stove on low.  Breakfast would be warm in about 20 minutes and would not burned even if I became preoccupied and did not return for an hour or more.  When it was time to eat, I’d add some oil (flax or coconut to the rice) a dash of Spike (seasoned salt mix) and two raw large carrots.  I used to microwave my food, but this slow heating alternative pleases me.

My mind noted that this morning it felt like winter.  I was surprised by the thought and realized that it had been winter the last time I was up before dawn.  I am up before the sunrise almost everyday, but to be up while it was still dark and the stars were still shining was rare this summer.  Interesting that my body and energy associated this “being up while it was still dark” with “winter”.

I proceeded outside to do my morning practice of chi gung and tai chi.  My objective is to be 100% present and in the moment when I practice.  Although I have a body memory of the movements, and can go through the form on automatic pilot, I focus on my body and how the energy feels moving.

I noticed how wonderful the morning was.  It was getting lighter, but even the birds were still and quiet until about 15 minutes into my routine.  I was outside and it was early morning in the desert.  Absolutely spectacular!

I remembered my first trip to the desert when I was a teenager.  I took a course called the Natural History of Anza Borrego.   On the trip, I decided to sleep out away from the group at a location that was sure to get the first rays of sunrise.  The memory of the trip and the dawn’s first light brought me pleasure.

I continued to think about how I’d like to wake up like this every day and the best way to do that was to sleep outside.  When I sleep outside I am more in rhythm with the planet and my subconscious notices the changes in the environment leading up to dawn and awakens me.

I began planning where I’d sleep, how I’d hang my mosquito netting, what type of bedding I’d use, and alternates to all these ideas.  I was wondering how long before the nights became too hot to sleep outside comfortably.  I thought some about my plan, then have a memory of the past, connect the two and then focus on the smooth even flow of my tai chi movements.

Eventually I noticed that much of my thoughts were not in the moment doing tai chi.  I was in the past, remembering.  I was in the future, planning.  I was also a very good multi-tasker because my mind would flip back into being with the birds or the movements of my body, the now, before it would be swept away by another idea.  Indeed, it is possible for me to have part of my mind in the present moment and part of my mind planning or remembering.

It is really cool how the mind works.  I traced back the mindstream until I found the point of major deviation.  I found that the pleasure of being in the desert before the dawn triggered my mind to try to capture it and keep it.  Instead of fully enjoying the moment, I was figuring out how to have that moment every day.  Logically, if I liked what was going on, I would focus more on the moment.  Yet, I have the illogical mental habit of planning. Perhaps, I enjoy planning more than I enjoy the experience of spontaneous life.

I have been noticing recently how I think certain thoughts repetitively.  For instance, after several years of living on savings, I finally have work that pays my bills.  I tend to think about this with appreciation over and over.  It is like I’m using the thought to create a certain feeling.  I suppose I have a very subtle financial insecurity that this thought alleviates.  When I observe the thought and my body’s reaction very closely, I can almost feel a surge of some “pleasure” chemical being released.  Even if I don’t have financial insecurity, I am “using” the thought to produce pleasure in my body.  Does this mean I’m addicted to the thought and the chemical it produces?

The practice of introspective and extrospective awareness, sometimes referred to as mindfulness, allows me to know what I am doing,why I am doing it and the consequences of my actions.  This awareness can then inform my actions.  I am finding, through this practice, that I have many habitual mental habits that don’t appear to be useful.  It appears that my mind is awakening, but that it is still before dawn.

 

Mindful Weeding

One of the things I value most is living in harmony with nature.  My garden is one of those places where I get to interface with a wide variety of creatures on the planet.  When I work in the garden I am mindful of what I am doing and why I am doing it.  This is the same process of awareness that I use when I am doing all other activities, but the content of “why” varies slightly.

Two months ago I harvested huge heads of cauliflower.  Once the flowering head of this vegetable has been picked, the plant is fairly well past its prime.  Many people would then pull the whole plant and send it to the compost.  I, instead, considered the option of non-action.  This specimen had very large leaves which could serve additional purposes.  In the ground, still living, those leaves served as “shade” for the young alder tree sapling that was next to it.  In addition, the leaves were a future source of food for the pet rabbits I live with.  It wasn’t until later that I realized the large leaves also served as a bird bath.  They accumulated water from the sprinklers and held it within the shallow bowl the leaves formed naturally.Cauliflower Bird Bath

The “why” for pulling the plant could be mindlessness or it reflect a value for esthetics.  I also want things to look ordered and nice, but I am conscious of my objective to make the garden at TESLI be in harmony with the land around.  I find that many of the “weeds” I leave unpulled look somewhat unsightly, but the birds love the seeds and I am finding that I am becoming quite popular with my flying friends.  In a “complex” living style, one might put up bird feeders and drive to the store to replenish the seeds.  In a simple living style, one only has to leave weeds around and sit back and enjoy finches, sparrows and even love birds feast.

When I garden, I reflect on what is right action – sometimes I feel the drive to know what is the “best” way to act.  This idea is addressed in a book I just finished reading.  In A New Earth Eckhart Tolle writes on page 194:

“When we go into a forest that has not been interfered with by man, our thinking mind will see only disorder and chaos all around us.  It won’t even be able to differentiate between life (good) and death (bad) anymore since everywhere new life grows out of rotting and decaying matter.  Only if we are still enough inside and the noise of thinking subsides can we become aware that there is a hidden harmony here… The mind is more comfortable in a landscaped park because it has been planned through thought; it has not grown organically.”

I was intrigued by his statement.  Many people are actually refreshed by the walk through a forest, despite all its disorder.  Yet, those same people would not tolerate allowing plant debris to naturally decay around their houses.  I wonder, who is making those decisions?

Reflection:  Am I choosing to do things that are in alignment with my values?  Am I thoughtful about the full ramifications of my actions?