Making Room for Wonder and Gratitude & FTWMI: Simple and True, with Music January 10, 2026

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Changing Perspectives, Dharma, Faith, First Nations, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Mysticism, One Hoop, Philosophy, Poetry, Tragedy, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
Tags: 9 Days, 988, Anodea Judith, Benjamin Boone, Bird Flight, Caroline Myss, chakras, Charlie Parker, Health, kabbalah, Keith Porter Jr., meditation, Mindfulness, Phil Schaap, Philip Levine, pranayama, prāṇāyāma, Saint Teresa of Ávila, sefirot, Sioux, spirituality, WKCR 89.9, yoga
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May you breathe deeply, and with awareness, because you are stable, steady, comfortable, at ease… and maybe even joyful.

“now i can’t believe—

               that the bible and qur’an and bhagavad gita are sliding long hairs behind my ear like mom used to & exhaling from their mouths ‘make room for wonder’—”

— quoted from the 2020 Academy of American Poets Prize poem “On Learning to Dissect Fetal Pigs” by Renée Nicole Macklin [Good]

Part of our practice is about “‘[making] room for wonder’” and gratitude. I would like to think that this is true even on days like today, when I am not holding a Zoom or in-person class (because it’s a travel day for me). I definitely believe this is true when I am currently holding what can feel like contradictory emotions.

I am simultaneously celebrating a new life in my family and appreciating the opportunity to connect with my yoga and dharma buddies, while also feeling a little heavy and muddled because of the tragic murders of Keith Porter Jr. (in Los Angeles) and Renée Nicole Macklin Good (here in Minneapolis) and the additional shooting of two people in Portland. This heaviness is layered on top of what was already there because of all the other things still going on in the world.

Yet, surrounding that heaviness in my heart is a lot of love, light, and goodwill courtesy of the new baby and of everyone who attended classes (in-person and/or via Zoom), stopped by the Open House, and/or just reached out in some way.

Thank you all. Your presence, on and off the mat, means more than you know.

As for the muddled brain…. I leave Minneapolis with a serendipitously rediscovered clarity about the importance of what my yoga buddy Vickie calls “the usual”: “stretching and breathing”.

The post below is mostly about the breathing. Some of it is, I hope, what I would have written if I were writing it today. Some of it is definitely what I needed to hear/read today.

FTWMI: The following 2024 post is the expanded and revised 2023 remix of a 2022 post. Some links and formatting have been added/updated.

“Some days I catch a rhythm, almost a song
in my own breath. I’m alone here
in Brooklyn Heights, late morning, the sky
above the St. George Hotel clear, clear
for New York, that is. The radio playing
‘Bird Flight,’ Parker in his California
tragic voice fifty years ago, his faltering
‘Lover Man’ just before he crashed into chaos.”

— quoted from the poem “Call It Music” by Philip Levine

Breathing is something we all do. It’s something we all must do in order to survive — and, yet, it is all to easy to forget about it. Even in this day and age, it is all too easy to take our breathing for granted. So, take a moment to breathe.

Just breathe and pay attention to your breath.

Catch the rhythm that is your breath, the rhythm of your life.

Breath — and the awareness of breath — is the guiding teacher that we carry with us where ever we go. Our breath can be a true reflection of how we are living and/or surviving in any given moment. It can tell us if we are about to soar like a bird and/or if we are about to crash into chaos.

“The perfect sunlight angles into my little room
above Willow Street. I listen to my breath
come and go and try to catch its curious taste,
part milk, part iron, part blood, as it passes
from me into the world. This is not me,
this is automatic, this entering and exiting,
my body’s essential occupation without which
I am a thing. The whole process has a name,
a word I don’t know, an elegant word not
in English or Yiddish or Spanish, a word
that means nothing to me.”

— quoted from the poem “Call It Music” by Philip Levine

There are any number of words in any number of languages that could come to mind when reading the words of the poet Philip Levine, who was born January 10, 1928, in Detroit, Michigan. Of course, the word that immediately springs to my mind is the Sanskrit word prāṇāyāma. Defined as the awareness of breath and the extension of breath, prāṇāyāma is the fifth limb of the 8-limb Yoga Philosophy. It is the second half of the physical practice of yoga and it bridges the gap between the mind-body and our awareness of our mind-body.

Although there are many techniques, basic prāṇāyāma is a very simple practice: focus on your breath for a set period of time. While the practice is just that simple, it is not always easy. There are lots of things that can get in the way. However, one of the great things about this practice is that paying attention to the breath is also the true way around those obstacles. I would even argue that nothing is more simple and true than breathing and bringing awareness to that automatic entering and leaving.

“Some things
you know all your life. They are so simple and true
they must be said without elegance, meter and rhyme,
they must be laid on the table beside the salt shaker,
the glass of water, the absence of light gathering
in the shadows of picture frames, they must be
naked and alone, they must stand for themselves.”

— quoted from the poem “A Simple Truth” by Philip Levine

Philip Levine was the second of three sons (and the first identical twin) born to Jewish immigrants just as the Nazi party was getting a foothold in Germany. He had the unfortunate experience of watching anti-Semitism rise in is own (proverbial) backyard and to also witness how racism (and other -isms) created a schism between the different people who made up the working class. Following in the tradition of Walt Whitman, he started giving voice to America’s voiceless and — even after he left the “mitten state” — he wrote poems about the plight of regular people in his hometown.

In some ways, Mr. Levine followed in his parent’s footsteps. His father, Harry Levine, owned a used (car) parts store; his mother, Esther Priscol (Pryszkulnik) Levine, sold books; and, starting at the age of fourteen, the poet worked in auto factories as he pursued his literary degrees. After graduating from Detroit Central High School, he earned his Bachelor of Arts, in literature, from Wayne (State) University and then “unofficially” attended classes at the University of Iowa. He earned a mail-order master’s degree and then returned to the University of Iowa to teach and pursue a Masters of Fine Arts, which he completed in 1957.

By the time he graduated from the University of Iowa (1957), he was beginning to gain significant recognition as a poet. In addition to teaching at a plethora of major universities around the country, he was lauded and recognized with national literary awards, including the two National Book Awards (1980 and 1991), Guggenheim Foundation fellowships (1973 and 1980), the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (1995, for the collection The Simple Truth), and the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize (1987). He served on the Board of Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets (1000-2006) and as Poet Laureate Consultant in Poetry to the Library of Congress (also known as the U. S. Poet Laureate) from 2011-2012. In collaboration with saxophonist and composer Benjamin Boone, Philip Levine created a collection of jazz poetry, “a literary genre defined as poetry necessarily informed by jazz music” — which was released in 2018, almost exactly three years and a month after his death. As a writer, he not only protested the Vietnam War, he kept speaking for the disenfranchised using simple truths… truths that could not be denied.

“Can you taste
what I’m saying? It is onions or potatoes, a pinch
of simple salt, the wealth of melting butter, it is obvious,
it stays in the back of your throat like a truth
you never uttered because the time was always wrong,
it stays there for the rest of your life, unspoken,
made of that dirt we call earth, the metal we call salt,
in a form we have no words for, and you live on it.”

— quoted from the poem “A Simple Truth” by Philip Levine

The sixth chakra, which is located around the third eye (and about in inch into your forehead, half an inch above there), is symbolically associated with big “T” Truth — and with our ability to seek it, perceive it, and recognize it when we encounter it. The energy of this area is a curious energy, in that it continually pushes us to question everything. It supports healthy self-inquiry when the energy is balanced; however, when out of balance, it can manifest feelings of doubt or an inability to “see the truth” when it is right in front of you.

In Wheels of Life: A User’s Guide to the Chakra System, Anodea Judith, Ph.D., connects the sixth chakra to “knowledge, understanding and transcendent consciousness,” as well as to intuition. In Anatomy of the Spirit: The Seven Stages of Power and Healing, Caroline Myss, Ph.D. further connects it to the Christian sacrament of Ordination and the sefirot (“emanations” or Divine attributes) of Binah (Divine “understanding”) and Hokhmah or Chokmah (Divine “wisdom”). Similar to the love described in the sixth mansion of Saint Teresa of Ávila‘s El Castillo Interior or Las Moradas, ordination distinguishes and elevates the faithful. Note, also, that in the Kabbalah-inspired system I have previously mentioned, the “higher” or mind-related sefirot are not included in a physical practice of the Divine attributes.

My standard summary of how the energetic and symbolic elements manifest in our lives goes something like this: Consider how where you come from determines the friends you make (or don’t make); how where you come from and the people around you play a role in how you see yourself; and how where you come from, the friends you make along the way, and how you see yourself, play a part in how (or if) you embrace yourself (or others), embrace a moment, and extend your gifts out into the world — or not. Consider also how where you come from, the friends you make along the way, how you see yourself, and whether you extend what’s in your heart connect to how you express yourself, how you know (or don’t know) the truth when you perceive it, and how all of that contributes to your experience of this present moment.

That summary can be extrapolated and applied to a variety of scenarios, including how we cultivate new habits and achieve our goals, dreams, and desires. Consider, for instance, that the first chakra is related to physical survival and physical form — which means it is our matter. It is also our plans. Friends are our support system, cheering us on and/or providing guidance, while also providing accountability. When I think of the third chakra, the solar plexus — as it relates to our self esteem, our personality, and our sense of self — I think of the idea that we have “fire in the belly”. We can think of this idiom literally, in terms of digestive juices — which is a whole other conversation — and we can think of it as the internal element that keeps us physically motivated. To continue the metaphor, it’s what makes us hungry for more.

Then there is the heart, which connects the physical with the mental and emotional. It’s the energetic-emotional connection between the mind and the body. Here, it is the connection between the idea (the pattern) and the manifestation (the matter). This is also the idea of purusha (pure consciousness) and prakriti (elemental, unformed matter or substance). When we get into the throat chakra — related to mental determination and willpower — we are starting to move into the intangible. Those parts of our lived experiences that are “barely describable” and can only be indicated (lingamatra) and those things that are “absolutely indescribable [because they are] beyond any point of reference” (alinga).

Consider that last bit a moment. As you think about that last part, also think about the idea that your goals and desires, your wishes, hopes, dreams (and yes, even your fears), are fully formed somewhere in your heart… and maybe the back of your mind. Somewhere out in the ether, that possibility is real. But there are a lot of steps between conception and manifestation. And until we take the first step, they all feel like giant leaps.

To make life even more challenging, anybody can give anyone a metaphorical road map about physical survival and what it takes to sustain the body. We know the body’s basic necessities and there are people who are dedicated to breaking that down into what different body types need to survive at a peak level. On a certain level, people can also create road maps for the mind — and we do, all the time, which is why the self-help industry is so massive. But, there’s still a part of the journey that can only be experienced by the person taking the trip. There’s a part of the journey that is barely or absolutely indescribable. It’s the part of the journey that can never be duplicated. It’s the journey between what’s in a person’s heart and what’s in their head.

Even if someone explained how they got from point A to point B — and even if that explanation came with a Jean-Paul Sartre nauseous-level breakdown of how they felt and what they thought along the way — the only thing the rest of us could completely replicate would be the physical aspects of the journey. But, that part in between, it’s like getting lost, stuck in a traffic jam, and not knowing where you’re going — all while on a schedule.

“The longest journey you will make in your life is from your head to your heart.”

— possibly a Sioux statement, although it is often attributed to “Anonymous”

There is no Zoom practice today. Check the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes. If you are on the Saturday list, you will receive a recording of the related practice. You can request an audio recording of this practice via a comment below or by emailing myra    (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

The playlist related to this post practice is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “01102023 Simple and True with Music”]

NOTE: The end of the YouTube playlist includes a special recording of the Bird Flight radio show, hosted by Phil Schaap on WKCR 89.9. I couldn’t find it on Spotify (maybe because I’m like “Lazy Bird” — which is what rounds out the Spotify playlist).

If you are thinking about suicide, worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, you can dial 988 (in the US) or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255)for the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline. You can also call this TALK line if you are struggling with addiction or involved in an abusive relationship. The Lifeline network is free, confidential, and available to all 24/7. YOU CAN TALK ABOUT ANYTHING.

White Flag is an app, which I have not yet researched, but which may be helpful if you need peer-to-peer (non-professional) support.

If you are a young person in crisis, feeling suicidal, or in need of a safe and judgement-free place to talk,you can also click here to contact the TrevorLifeline (which is staffed 24/7 with trained counselors).

Did you see that I re-posted a surprise from 2022? It’s the first step in a journey (that we’ve already begun and finished)!

In the spirit of generosity (“dana”), the Zoom classes, recordings, and blog posts are freely given and freely received. If you are able to support these teachings, please do so as your heart moves you. (NOTE: You can donate even if you are “attending” a practice that is not designated as a “Common Ground Meditation Center” practice, or you can purchase class(es). Donations are tax deductible; class purchases are not necessarily deductible.)

### Always Get Into The Habit ###