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No Zoom practices today, but, FTWMI: Searching…. January 18, 2023

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in 9-Day Challenge, Art, Books, Healing Stories, Life, Love, Mathematics, Meditation, Movies, Music, One Hoop, Philosophy, Poetry, Vairagya, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
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Due to technical issues, I am cancelling today’s classes. If you are on the Wednesday list, I will send you previously recorded practices.

For Those Who Missed It: The following was originally posted in 2022. You can request an audio recording of the practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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.

Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.)

“As soon as Rabbit was out of sight, Pooh remembered that he had forgotten to ask who Small was, and whether he was the sort of friend-and-relation who settled on one’s nose, or the sort who got trodden on by mistake, and as it was Too Late Now, he thought he would begin the Hunt by looking for Piglet, and asking him what they were looking for before he looked for it.”

*

– quoted from “Chapter Three, In Which – A Search is Organdized, and Piglet Nearly Meets the Heffalump Again” in The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Similar to The House at Pooh Corner (published in 1928), this post begins with an end note; but, let’s not call it that. Let’s call it a Side Note. See, when I’ve used quotes in class in the past, I don’t always cite chapter and verse. That’s not the point of the practice. However, now that I’m blogging more, recording classes, and posting a video or two, I feel that due diligence is required. Ergo, I make an effort to search for precise sources. It takes some time and effort, but the internet makes things easier than when I was doing such research in school and it’s super nice when I actually have hard copies (and/or paperback or electronic copies) of the source material. However, things can get complicated when something takes on a life of it’s own – outside of its original incarnation. This is even more true when that something is beloved… and the Walt Disney Company is involved.

Because sometimes people are quoting Disney productions, but citing the author.

“’It means just going along, listening to all the things that you can’t hear and not bothering.’”

*

– Christopher Robin defining “Doing Nothing” to Winnie the Pooh in “Chapter Ten, In Which – Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Many books begin with a prologue or an introduction, however, as I already mentioned The House at Pooh is different from most books. It begins with a “Contradiction,” which the author explained was the opposite of an “Introduction.” Some of us might think of it as an epilogue, which it was… and also wasn’t, because it was coming at the beginning of the book rather than at the end. But, it was the end of the series – that was never intended to be a series. Of course, the author, A. A. Milne, understood the differences and the nuances of the words; that’s why he picked the one’s he picked.

Born Alan Alexander Milne on January 18, 1882, the famous children’s book author was the youngest of three boys that grew up in a household dedicated to learning. His father, John Vine Milne, ran Henley House School, a private school for boys that famously boasted teachers like H. G. Wells (who taught science there for one year). A. A. Milne reportedly taught himself to read at age two; attended Westminster School in London and Trinity College in Cambridge. It was at the latter that he edited and wrote (with his brother Kenneth) for The Granta, the student magazine now known simply as Granta. It was also at Trinity that he decided to pursue writing as a career even though he was graduating with a degree in mathematics.  He started working for the humor magazine Punch not long after he graduated.

Then World War I broke out and – even though Mr. Milne didn’t believe in war – he served as an officer for at least five years, first as a signaling operator and then (after recuperating from an illness that sent him home) as a writer of military propaganda. He finished his service as a lieutenant and started writing articles and books denouncing war. He also started writing plays and poetry, some which appeared in Punch magazine. He had married Dorothy “Daphne” de Sélincourt just before the war and, within a year of his discharge, they had their son, Christopher Robin.

Mr. Milne was in the habit of making up little verses for his son, including one called “Teddy Bear,” which appeared in Punch when Christopher Robin was three years old. About five years after their son was born, the Milnes bought and moved to their country home in East Sussex. The woods around their East Sussex home – as well as Christopher Robin, his toys, and the games they played – became the inspiration for more poems and, ultimately, the stories about Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin, and all their friends. Those stories, however, were little more than divertissements to A. A. Milne and he was a little astounded (and latter appalled) that those little entertainments were earning more accolades than for his plays, articles, and adult novels. Later, he was also concerned by how all the attention affected his still young son – who, it must be said, kind of hated the attention.

“Every child has his Pooh, but one would think it odd if every man still kept his Pooh to remind him of his childhood. But my Pooh is different, you say: he is the Pooh. No, this only makes him different to you. My toys were and are to me no more than yours were and are to you, not different to me. I do not love them more because they are known to children in Australia or Japan. Fame has nothing to do with love.”

*

– quoted from “12. The Toys” in The Enchanted Places by Christopher Milne

There are a lot of reasons why people still love the characters created by A. A. Milne, but why are Christopher Robin, Pooh, Piglet, Owl, Eyeore, Rabbit, Kanga, Roo, Tigger, the Heffalump, and (even) Small more beloved than any of his other characters? We can, of course, point to the loveliness of an ideal childhood and those lovely “decorations” by E. H. Shephard. Of course, there is also the fact that the books are all about friendship. Then, too, there is the fact that we all know people like all of the characters. In fact, if we take a moment to turn inward, we may even recognize ourselves as one of the characters. Finally, there is just so much wisdom in the books. Yes, we can say it is wisdom for children; however, the best advice we receive as children, serves us as adults.

The children’s poems and stories by A. A. Milne remind us to slow down, savor our “honey” and our friends, and to soak up the moment. There are stories that remind us to play a little (Pooh Sticks); keep in touch (even when we are physically far apart); that sometimes we need a little help from our friends (in order to get out of tight situations); and that there is something to be said for being in the present moment. In fact, I think of the poem “Halfway Down” as a meditation on the liminal, or “threshold” moment that is this present moment.

“Halfway Down” is the thirty-fifth poem in When We Were Very Young, first published in 1924. It appears just a few pages before the aforementioned “Teddy Bear” and has been turned into a song sung be people as different as Robin the Frog (Kermit’s nephew) and Amy Lee. The children’s book reviewer Zena Sutherland called the poem a “juvenile meditation” – which was a ringing endorsement from an expert on children’s literature who would go on to teach “Children’s Literature” and “Literature for Young Adults” at the University of Chicago Graduate Library School; serve on the committees that award the Newbery and Cadecutt Awards, as well as the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction; and highlight the emotional benefits of books by Maurice Sendak, John Donovan, and Robert Cormier. She was the expert, but in my humble opinion, it is a great meditation for anyone, regardless of age.

“I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.
*
Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:”

*

– quoted (from halfway down) the poem “Halfway Down” by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

In some ways, The House at Pooh Corner was like that stair “halfway down the stairs.” It marked a transition. As A. A. Milne explained at the beginning, Christopher Robin and his friends needed no introductions – the readers already knew and loved them. What he also explained was that The House at Pooh Corner was a goodbye – he just didn’t tell his young readers why. And, in the end, maybe the why didn’t matter. Because…

“…they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.”

*

– quoted from “Chapter Ten, In Which – Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

A related playlist related is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “08212021 An Afternoon of Just Knowing”]

Feel free to check out this 2016 post to discover someone who likes to explore enchanted places.

“Christopher Robin came down from the Forest to the bridge, feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen didn’t matter a bit, as it didn’t on such a happy afternoon, and he thought if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath him, then he would suddenly know everything there was to be known, and he would be able to tell Pooh, who wasn’t quite sure of it. But when he got to the bridge and saw all the animals there, then he knew that it wasn’t that kind of afternoon, but the other kind, when you wanted to do something.

*

– quoted from “Chapter Six, In Which – Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Searching for Small and little things? (Part of the Nine Days series)

### “Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day. ~ A. A. M. ###

Out of Our Worlds, redux (the “missing” Sunday post) November 1, 2022

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Changing Perspectives, Healing Stories, Life, Loss, Music, One Hoop, Peace, Philosophy, Suffering, Tragedy, Wisdom, Yoga.
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Many blessings to those observing Allhallowtide y Día de (los) Muertos!

This is a “missing” post for Sunday, October 30th. You can request an audio recording of a related practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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.

Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.]


“Lt. Daniel Kaffee (portrayed by Tom Cruise): I want the truth!
Col. Nathan R. Jessup (portrayed by Jack Nicholson): YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”

 

– quoted from the movie A Few Good Men, written by Aaron Sorkin and directed by Rob Reiner


How dedicated are you to seeking the truth? Actually, before you answer that, let’s establish how equipped you are at knowing the truth when you encounter it. How capable are you at recognizing the truth when you see it, hear it, and/or experience it? Most people might automatically say – or at least think – that they can easily tell the difference between something that is the truth and something that is not. But, is that even true?


Consider, for a moment, that our ability to identify the truth – and, therefore, our ability to identify what is not the truth – is predicated by how we feel and how we think (which is also partially based on how we feel). Additionally, how we feel and think is partially based on where we come from (i.e., where we started in life and how we were raised); the people that surround us (and who form our echo chamber); and how each of us feels about our self; as well as how we interact with the world and we find balance in the world. I often reference this paradigm when I talk about how the chakra system found in Yoga and Āyurveda can symbolically and energetically be a system through which we gain understanding about our lives and our lived experiences. It’s a system that allows us to see how things are connected and gain some insight about why, as Patanjali stated, we can only see/understand what our mind shows us:

Yoga Sūtra 2.20: draşțā dŗśimātrah śuddho’pi pratyayānupaśyah

 

– “The Seer is the pure power of seeing, yet its understanding is through the mind/intellect.” [Translation by Pandit Rajmani Tigunait (for comparative analysis), “The sheer power of seeing is the seer. It is pure, and yet it sees only what the mind shows it.”]


One way to look at Yoga Sūtra 2.20 is that the our subconscious and unconscious mind only shows us what it thinks we are ready to consciously comprehend – or at least consider. And, while all of the aforementioned elements play a part in what we are ready to comprehend or consider, there are times when how we feel, on a very visceral level, holds the heaviest weight.
For instance, let’s say you are deathly afraid of something and you think you are coming into contact with that something. Fear is an emotional response to a perceived threat and the emotion activates the sympathetic nervous system, which in turn prepares your whole being to do the thing(s) you need to do in order to survive. In that moment, when the the fight/flight/freeze (or collapse) response kicks in, it doesn’t matter if the threat is real: it only matters that the fear is real. And remember, there is some part of us that viscerally responds to fear of loss (especially as the result of a change in circumstances) in the same way we would respond to fear of physical death. So, the fear kicks in, the sympathetic nervous system kicks in, and (for many people) that means our ability to know/comprehend the truth diminishes – especially if we are not actively dedicated to the pursuit of truth.


Classic texts from India philosophies often use the example of someone walking through the woods and seeing (what appears to be) a snake. The snake is humongous and appears to lying in the sun, directly in your path. If you have ophidiophobia and are deathly afraid of snakes, it may not matter that you also know giant snakes, like anacondas and pythons, are not indigenous to your region. You have no intention of getting a little closer – even in a mindfully safe way – to see if it really is a constricting snake. Similarly, it may not even occur to you to look through the binoculars hanging around your neck. After all, if there is one, there might be more, and you’re better off just fleeing the area.


According to sacred texts, however, the truth is that the “snake” is actually a giant hunk of rope. Of course, in this example, the way one feels and thinks, combined with one’s previous experiences and other factors (like if you are alone or with someone who also is afraid of snakes) means that you may never know the truth. Another example of this kind of phenomenon occurred on Mischief Night 1938.


“At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our mids as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regard this earth with envious eyes and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And early in the twentieth twentieth century came the great disillusionment.”

 

– quoted from “Book I: The Coming of the Martians – Chapter 1. The Eve of the War” in War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

“‘With infinite complacence, people went to and fro over the earth about their little affairs, serene in the assurance of their dominion over this small spinning fragment of solar driftwood which by chance or design man has inherited out of the dark mystery of Time and Space. Yet across an immense ethereal gulf, minds that are to our minds as ours are to the beasts in the jungle, intellects vast, cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. In the 39th year of the 20th century came the great disillusionment. It was near the end of October. Business was better. The war scare was over. More men were back at work. Sales were picking up. On this particular evening, October 30th, the Crossley service estimated that 32 million people were listening in on radios…'”

 

– quoted from Orson Welles introduction at the beginning of the radio adaptation of The War of the Worlds


On October 30, 1938, at 8 PM ET, The Mercury Theater on the Air started broadcasting its Halloween episode on Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS) Radio and its affiliates. The show was a live radio series created and hosted by Orson Welles, who had recently turned 23 years old. Starting on July 11, 1938 with Bram Stoker’s Dracula, a company of actors had presented dramatizations of great novels, plays, and short stories accompanied by Bernard Hermann’s dramatic musical scores. The works selected were, by and large, already familiar to the people who tuned in. Maybe everyone hadn’t read all of Charles Dickens’s serialized novels or seen a production of John Drinkwater’s play about Abraham Lincoln, but the 1938 audience for sure knew about about A Tale of Two Cities and Oliver Twist, just as they knew about President Lincoln and his life. Similarly, people would have been familiar with the novel selected for the 17th episode of the radio show: H. G. Wells’s 1898 novel War of the Worlds, a story about Martians invading Earth.


Sunday newspapers ran charts of what was scheduled to air on any given day and, in this case, very clearly listed the title and author. The broadcast began, as those broadcasts typically did, with an announcement that the radio play was a fictional, dramatization of the novel – again, indicating title and author. Similar announcements were made, as the typically would be, before and after the intermission and at the end of the broadcast. In fact, at the end of the broadcast, Orson Welles even reinforced the idea that the broadcast had simply and innocently been a little bit of Halloween fun.


Alas, the announcements turned out to be like binoculars around a scared person’s neck. Some people apparently missed the first announcement. Maybe they were preoccupied, rushing to finish something before they sat down to listen. Maybe they were in the habit of listening first to The Chase and Sanborn Hour with Edgar Bergen, over on NBC Radio Network, and then flipping over to CBS during a musical interlude. Maybe they just weren’t paying attention because they were in the habit of tuning out the radio stations “commercials.” Either way, some people thought Martians really were invading. Others thought, given the timing, that the Germans were invading.


“Ham Radio Operator (portrayed by Frank Readick): 2X2L calling CQ, New York. Isn’t there anyone on the air? Isn’t there anyone on the air? Isn’t there… anyone?


[SILENCE]


Radio Announcer, Dan Seymour: You are listening to a CBS presentation of Orson Welles and The Mercury Theatre on the Air, in an original dramatization of The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells. The performance will continue after a brief intermission. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.”

 

– quoted from The Mercury Theater on the Air live radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds


It wouldn’t normally matter if someone missed the first announcement, ran to the bathroom during the intermission and missed the next two announcements, and also turned off the radio as soon as the final announcement was being made. Normally, there would be all kinds of clues to let the audience know they were listening to actors – who could be described as professional liars – creating a scenario that someone made up for their entertainment. Normally, they might hear the very words they had previously read about they favorite characters and scenarios and think, “Oh, this is my favorite part!” But, the broadcast on Mischief Night 1938 was not exactly normal.


One of the things that made the Mischief Night radio production different was that the adaptation by Howard Koch moved the alien invasion from the beginning of 20th century England to mid-20th century United States. Specifically, the radio play set the action in Grovers Mill, New Jersey, an unincorporated rural area in West Windsor Township. (NOTE: The townships total population on the 1940 census was 2,160 and Grovers Mill is a tiny portion of that.) Another change was that at the beginning of the novel, H. G. Wells kind of breaks the “fourth wall” and reminds readers that they are, in fact, reading… a book. The creators of the radio play actually went out of their way to reinforce the “fourth wall.”


A day and a half before the rehearsals began, Mr. Koch and his secretary Anne Froelick called the shows producer, John Houseman, to say that the adaptation wasn’t going to work. The three got together and reworked the script. Unfortunately, when Orson Welles heard a mock recording, he thought it was boring. He wanted the dramatization to sound like the evening news being interrupted by a “breaking news” report, complete with eyewitness accounts and remote correspondents.


Associate Producer Paul Stewart joined the original trio in another late night effort to re-work the script. The group added details to make the radio play more dramatic, more intense and more realistic. When the legal department reviewed the script, 2 days before the broadcast, they said it was too realistic and wanted some details tweaked and some deleted. Music and sound effects were added – and Orson Welles requested interlude music to be played in longer stretches, as if the station was stretching out the time in as they awaited more updates. All the change in format ended up meaning that the typical midway intermission break got pushed back a little; further convincing the audience that the broadcast was real news. Additionally, only the final act of the radio play sounded and felt like a radio play.


“Question: Were you aware of the terror such a broadcast would stir up?
Welles: Definitely not. The technique I used was not original with me. It was not even new. I anticipated nothing unusual.
Question: Should you have toned down the language of the drama?
Welles: No, you don’t play murder in soft words.
Question: Why was the story changed to put in names of American cities and government officers?
Welles: H. G. Wells used real cities in Europe, and to make the play more acceptable to American listeners we used real cities in America. Of course, I’m terribly sorry now.”

 

– quoted from the 1938 Halloween press conference regarding The Mercury Theater on the Air live radio broadcast of The War of the Worlds


According to John Houseman’s autobiography Run-Through: A Memoir, Executive Producer Davidson Taylor left the studio to take a phone call at 8:32 and returned at 8:36 – this was the first indication that something had gone wrong. They station was being ordered to halt the broadcast and announce, again, that it was all fake. They were so close to a break they decided to continue. Shortly thereafter, one of the actors noticed police officers arriving. More police officers followed, as well as radio attendants and executives. More phone calls came in. Journalists from actual news stations showed up and/or called the station and their affiliates.
When the actors left the The Mercury Theater on the Air actors left the theatre, they stood at the intersection known for the performing arts, 42nd and Broadway, and saw the headline ticker on the New York Times building proclaiming, “ORSON WELLES CAUSES PANIC.” They wouldn’t know, at the time, that an unrelated blackout in Washington state contributed to some people’s confusion. Neither could the know that Jack Paar, who would go on to host The Tonight Show and was the announcer for Cleveland’s CBS affiliate WGAR, was having a hard time convincing people that the show was just a Halloween “trick.” People were already convinced that they knew the actual truth – the aliens, or the Germans, were coming. Jack Paar, and anyone else who said otherwise, were all part of an elaborate cover-up.


“‘The world is not coming to an end. Trust me. When have I ever lied to you?'”

 

– Jack Paar, announcing for WGAR, October 30, 1938


Some people who have studied the events of October 30, 1938, have said that the journalists of the time exaggerated how many people were actually fooled and actually went into a panic. Some people have said that they degree to which “panic ensued” has become an urban myth. That, rather than millions, the number of people who actually thought the Martians, or Germans, were invading New Jersey (off all places) was a few hundred thousand… or maybe just a few thousand. Some people might even say that a post like this is part of the problem.


What no one disputes, however, is that some people did panic.


And, the truth is, I don’t know how much the number of people who were a little confused and/or who completely panicked matters. I’m not even sure I care if a (presumably) drunken resident of Grovers Mill shot at the water tower – that had been there all of his life – because he thought it was an Martian spaceship or if someone had to talk him out of shooting at the water tower. (That, again, had been there all of his life.) What’s important to me, in this moment, is how the human mind works and the fact that how it worked in 1938 is the way it works today, in 2022.


According to the Yoga Philosophy, suffering is caused by avidyā (“ignorance”), which is a afflicted/dysfunctional thought pattern. Patanjali’s Yoga Sūtras outlines different examples of avidyā and also explains that ignorance is the bedrock of the other four types of afflicted/dysfunctional thinking – including fear of loss/death. So, what’s important to me is that how we feel and think affects what we say and do and if what we feel and think leads us to untruths, we will say and do things that create suffering.


It’s easy to look at someone else, someone who believes something we “absolutely know is not true,” and pass judgement. It is easy to disparage their character and describe them in negative ways. It’s takes a little more effort to question why they believe what they believe what they believe; to go a little deeper. It takes even more effort to do a little svādhyāya (self-study) and question why we believe what we believe. Do the work.


Question 1: Is it true?
Question 2: Can you absolutely know its true?”
Question 3: How do you react—what happens—when you believe that thought?
Question 4: Who would you be without the thought?
Bonus: Turn the thought around.

 

– Byron Katie’s “4 Questions” from “The Work”


Sunday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “10302021 Out of Our Worlds”] 

 

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.)

 

 

### “Seek Only The Truth” ~ Caroline Myss ###

Searching…. (the “missing” Tuesday post w/a little extra) January 19, 2022

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in 9-Day Challenge, Art, Books, Healing Stories, Life, Love, Mathematics, Meditation, Movies, Music, One Hoop, Philosophy, Poetry, Vairagya, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
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This is the “missing” post for Tuesday, January 18th. You can request an audio recording of the practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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.

Check out the “Class Schedules” calendar for upcoming classes.)

“As soon as Rabbit was out of sight, Pooh remembered that he had forgotten to ask who Small was, and whether he was the sort of friend-and-relation who settled on one’s nose, or the sort who got trodden on by mistake, and as it was Too Late Now, he thought he would begin the Hunt by looking for Piglet, and asking him what they were looking for before he looked for it.”

*

– quoted from “Chapter Three, In Which – A Search is Organdized, and Piglet Nearly Meets the Heffalump Again” in The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Similar to The House at Pooh Corner (published in 1928), this post begins with an end note; but, let’s not call it that. Let’s call it a Side Note. See, when I’ve used quotes in class in the past, I don’t always cite chapter and verse. That’s not the point of the practice. However, now that I’m blogging more, recording classes, and posting a video or two, I feel that due diligence is required. Ergo, I make an effort to search for precise sources. It takes some time and effort, but the internet makes things easier than when I was doing such research in school and it’s super nice when I actually have hard copies (and/or paperback or electronic copies) of the source material. However, things can get complicated when something takes on a life of it’s own – outside of its original incarnation. This is even more true when that something is beloved… and the Walt Disney Company is involved.

Because sometimes people are quoting Disney productions, but citing the author.

“’It means just going along, listening to all the things that you can’t hear and not bothering.’”

*

– Christopher Robin defining “Doing Nothing” to Winnie the Pooh in “Chapter Ten, In Which – Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Many books begin with a prologue or an introduction, however, as I already mentioned The House at Pooh is different from most books. It begins with a “Contradiction,” which the author explained was the opposite of an “Introduction.” Some of us might think of it as an epilogue, which it was… and also wasn’t, because it was coming at the beginning of the book rather than at the end. But, it was the end of the series – that was never intended to be a series. Of course, the author, A. A. Milne, understood the differences and the nuances of the words; that’s why he picked the one’s he picked.

Born Alan Alexander Milne on January 18, 1882, the famous children’s book author was the youngest of three boys that grew up in a household dedicated to learning. His father, John Vine Milne, ran Henley House School, a private school for boys that famously boasted teachers like H. G. Wells (who taught science there for one year). A. A. Milne reportedly taught himself to read at age two; attended Westminster School in London and Trinity College in Cambridge. It was at the latter that he edited and wrote (with his brother Kenneth) for The Granta, the student magazine now known simply as Granta. It was also at Trinity that he decided to pursue writing as a career even though he was graduating with a degree in mathematics.  He started working for the humor magazine Punch not long after he graduated.

Then World War I broke out and – even though Mr. Milne didn’t believe in war – he served as an officer for at least five years, first as a signaling operator and then (after recuperating from an illness that sent him home) as a writer of military propaganda. He finished his service as a lieutenant and started writing articles and books denouncing war. He also started writing plays and poetry, some which appeared in Punch magazine. He had married Dorothy “Daphne” de Sélincourt just before the war and, within a year of his discharge, they had their son, Christopher Robin.

Mr. Milne was in the habit of making up little verses for his son, including one called “Teddy Bear,” which appeared in Punch when Christopher Robin was three years old. About five years after their son was born, the Milnes bought and moved to their country home in East Sussex. The woods around their East Sussex home – as well as Christopher Robin, his toys, and the games they played – became the inspiration for more poems and, ultimately, the stories about Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin, and all their friends. Those stories, however, were little more than divertissements to A. A. Milne and he was a little astounded (and latter appalled) that those little entertainments were earning more accolades than for his plays, articles, and adult novels. Later, he was also concerned by how all the attention affected his still young son – who, it must be said, kind of hated the attention.

“Every child has his Pooh, but one would think it odd if every man still kept his Pooh to remind him of his childhood. But my Pooh is different, you say: he is the Pooh. No, this only makes him different to you. My toys were and are to me no more than yours were and are to you, not different to me. I do not love them more because they are known to children in Australia or Japan. Fame has nothing to do with love.”

*

– quoted from “12. The Toys” in The Enchanted Places by Christopher Milne

There are a lot of reasons why people still love the characters created by A. A. Milne, but why are Christopher Robin, Pooh, Piglet, Owl, Eyeore, Rabbit, Kanga, Roo, Tigger, the Heffalump, and (even) Small more beloved than any of his other characters? We can, of course, point to the loveliness of an ideal childhood and those lovely “decorations” by E. H. Shephard. Of course, there is also the fact that the books are all about friendship. Then, too, there is the fact that we all know people like all of the characters. In fact, if we take a moment to turn inward, we may even recognize ourselves as one of the characters. Finally, there is just so much wisdom in the books. Yes, we can say it is wisdom for children; however, the best advice we receive as children, serves us as adults.

The children’s poems and stories by A. A. Milne remind us to slow down, savor our “honey” and our friends, and to soak up the moment. There are stories that remind us to play a little (Pooh Sticks); keep in touch (even when we are physically far apart); that sometimes we need a little help from our friends (in order to get out of tight situations); and that there is something to be said for being in the present moment. In fact, I think of the poem “Halfway Down” as a meditation on the liminal, or “threshold” moment that is this present moment.

“Halfway Down” is the thirty-fifth poem in When We Were Very Young, first published in 1924. It appears just a few pages before the aforementioned “Teddy Bear” and has been turned into a song sung be people as different as Robin the Frog (Kermit’s nephew) and Amy Lee. The children’s book reviewer Zena Sutherland called the poem a “juvenile meditation” – which was a ringing endorsement from an expert on children’s literature who would go on to teach “Children’s Literature” and “Literature for Young Adults” at the University of Chicago Graduate Library School; serve on the committees that award the Newbery and Cadecutt Awards, as well as the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction; and highlight the emotional benefits of books by Maurice Sendak, John Donovan, and Robert Cormier. She was the expert, but in my humble opinion, it is a great meditation for anyone, regardless of age.

“I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.
*
Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:”

*

– quoted (from halfway down) the poem “Halfway Down” by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

In some ways, The House at Pooh Corner was like that stair “halfway down the stairs.” It marked a transition. As A. A. Milne explained at the beginning, Christopher Robin and his friends needed no introductions – the readers already knew and loved them. What he also explained was that The House at Pooh Corner was a goodbye – he just didn’t tell his young readers why. And, in the end, maybe the why didn’t matter. Because…

“…they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.”

*

– quoted from “Chapter Ten, In Which – Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “08212021 An Afternoon of Just Knowing”]

Feel free to check out this 2016 post to discover someone who likes to explore enchanted places.

“Christopher Robin came down from the Forest to the bridge, feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen didn’t matter a bit, as it didn’t on such a happy afternoon, and he thought if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath him, then he would suddenly know everything there was to be known, and he would be able to tell Pooh, who wasn’t quite sure of it. But when he got to the bridge and saw all the animals there, then he knew that it wasn’t that kind of afternoon, but the other kind, when you wanted to do something.

*

– quoted from “Chapter Six, In Which – Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In” of The House at Pooh Corner by Alan Alexander Milne, with decorations by Ernest Howard Shephard

Searching for Small and little things? (Part of the Nine Days series)

### “Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day. ~ A. A. M. ###

Giving Flowers for Now & for Later (the “missing” Tuesday post) September 23, 2021

Posted by ajoyfulpractice in Books, Buddhism, Changing Perspectives, Faith, Gratitude, Healing Stories, Hope, Life, Men, Movies, Music, Suffering, Sukkot, Tragedy, Wisdom, Writing, Yoga.
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“Chag sameach!” to those celebrating Sukkot. Happy Equinox to all!

 

[This is the “missing” post for Tuesday, September 21st. You can request an audio recording of either practice via a comment below or (for a slightly faster reply) you can email me at myra (at) ajoyfulpractice.com.

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.

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“Don’t let the sun go down without saying thank you to someone, and without admitting to yourself that absolutely no one gets this far alone.”

 

– quoted from the 2005 University of Maine Commencement Speech by Stephen King

As more and more people pass away at an early age, especially those whose deaths are tragic, we hear the old saying that we should give people their flowers when they are living. Although I can’t find the original source, Anne Frank is often quoted as writing “Dead people receive more flowers than the living ones because regret is stronger than gratitude.” How scary is that? I mean, to me, the idea that someone could come to the end of their days – or live all of their days – not knowing how much they are loved and appreciated is very scary and unsettling. The human heart can hold a lot of love and a lot of kindness, even a lot of courage, wisdom, and generosity. But, the human heart can also hold its fair share of regret, fear, judgement, hatred, selfishness, self-centeredness and inconsideration.

The aforementioned “negative” sentiments may or may not seem really scary to you, but think about how they are expressed in the world. Then think about how those expressions in the world manifest in books by Stephen King. Born September 21, 1947, Mr. King is an acknowledged expert in horror, suspense, supernatural fiction, who has also written crime, science-fiction, and fantasy novels. His (65-and-counting) novels and hundreds of short stories and novellas (like Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, from 1982), as well as non-fiction work and have sold hundreds of millions of copies, won hundreds of awards, been adapted into movies and comic books, and creeped the living daylights out of people all over the world. And, it doesn’t matter if you use his first novel, Carrie (1974) or Pet Sematary (1983) or Misery (1987) or (one of my favorites) The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon (1999), every Stephen King story starts with a “what if” and then proceeds to give us a glimpse into the best and the worst parts of the human heart. And the worst parts can be really scary.

Of course, there is more to Stephen King than scary stories. He is also a musician who has collaborated with artists like Foo Fighters and Bronson Arroyo, as well as John Mellencamp, and played guitar for the Rock Bottom Remainders. He is also a husband, father, grandfather, a Boston Red Sox fan, a philanthropic (and political) activist, and a recovering addict. In addition to inspiring two of his own children to become published authors, he has written books on writing and reportedly “donates [millions every year] to libraries, local fire departments that need updated lifesaving equipment,” schools, and arts-related organizations. He and his wife Tabitha King (neé Spruce), who is also an author and activist, support Maine charities and communities through their foundation. They also own a radio station group.

While I haven’t read everything he has ever written, I am a Stephen King fan and I appreciate his work and his life – and I appreciate how both have made me think about my work, my life, and the world-at-large.

“Either get busy living or get busy dying.”

 

– quoted from the film the novella “Rita Hawyworth and Shawshank Redemption: Hope Springs Eternal” by Stephen King

 

Like Stephen King, Herbert George Wells was born on September 21 (in 1866) and was a prolific writer of novels, short stories, and non-fiction including works of history, satire, biography, and autobiography. While his work also is full of social commentary and glimpses into the human heart, when most people think of H. G. Wells, they think of science fiction like The Time Machine (1895), The Island of Doctor Moreau (1896), War of the Worlds (1897), and When The Sleeper Wakes (1899). Also like King, Mr. Wells suffered an accident that severely injured one of his legs and left him bedridden for an extended period of time. There are several obvious differences between the two accidents, including the fact that Stephen King’s happened when he was a successful adult writing about writing; while young “Bertie” suffered his accident as an eight year old. But, the very advice Mr. King gives in On Writing – to read as much as possible – is the very experience that led Mr. Wells to write (a hundred years later).

H. G. Wells got people to think. He got people to think, “What if…?” He inspired authors and scientists like Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Carl Sagan, Ursula Le Guin, Sinclair Lewis, Jorge Luis Borges, and Margaret Atwood. He predicted a world war, the atomic bomb, and wrote about a “world brain,” which was basically an encyclopedia accessible by the entire world through another of his fantastical ideas (let’s call it an electronic web). He also wrote about aircraft, tanks, space travel, and satellite television that had not yet been invented.

He was also a husband and a father, possibly even a grandfather; however, with all due respect, he seems to have been more of a philanderer than a philanthropist. While some of his actions set women back, he predicted the sexual revolution and, perhaps, even inspired it. Again, I haven’t read all of his books – or indulged in all of the movies, radio plays, and comic book adaptations – but I appreciate the worlds that he built and how they make us think about the world we are building.

“Sometimes, you have to step outside of the person you’ve been and remember the person you were meant to be. The person you want to be. The person you are.”

 

– H. G. Wells

My third bouquet of gratitude flowers goes to Leonard Cohen, also born on September 21 (in 1934), an award winning musician and poet, whose songs are psalms, sacred songs, for the human heart. A Companion of the Order of Canada (CC) and a Grand Officer of the National Order of Quebec (GOQ), he started out as an author or poetry and prose, who even had some of his drawings published with his written words. His professional music career didn’t start until he was in his early thirties; however, despite what some might consider a late start, he proceeded to create fifteen studio albums in nearly fifty years and wrote songs that would become chartbusters for himself as well as for singers like Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright (who is the father of Mr. Cohen’s granddaughter), and Jennifer Warnes. He also inspired bands likes Nirvana and U2, collaborated with Phillip Glass, and co-wrote (and/or had music featured) in several films, including the rock musical Night Magic (which he co-wrote with composer Lewis Furey).

Mr. Cohen was a father, who collaborated with his son on an album and his daughter on a musical video and on one of his world tours. While he studied (and practiced) Zen Buddhism as an adult – and was even ordained as a Rinzai Zen Buddhist monk – Leonard Cohen was born into an Orthodox Jewish family with a rich religious heritage and observed the Sabbath “even while on tour and [performing] for Israeli troops during the 1973 Arab-Israeli war.” He never seemed to shy away from political and social commentary, in his music or in his life. In fact, some of his efforts to support peace efforts and reconciliation in the Middle East were met with discussions of boycotts and, ultimately, withdrawal of some supporting organizations. Despite those discussions of boycotts, however, his 2009 performance in Tel Aviv, Israel (which occurred towards the end of the High Holidays that year) sold out within 24 hours.

Leonard Cohen had style and grace that was evident in his dress and his demeanor, as well as in the way he performed. For instance, there is a powerful moment in the recording of a live performance of “Anthem” (a moment possibly captured by his daughter Lorca) when Mr. Cohen introduces his band to the audience. This is something that is pretty typical for most Class A musicians when they are on tour, but the way it happens at this performance in London epitomizes what it means to give someone their flowers while they are still living. Watching the footage is also like watching a mutual appreciation society in action. The gratitude is a living breathing thing being exchanged between all the people on the stage.

“Act the way you’d like to be and soon you’ll be the way you act.”

 

– Leonard Cohen

 

Living and breathing gratitude is a key element in my practice this time of year, because giving thanks is a critical aspect of happiness. In fact, “expressing gratitude” is recommended by experts like Dr. Tal Ben-Shahar, an expert in Positive Psychology and the author of Happier: Learn the Secrets to Daily Joy and Lasting Fulfillment and A Clash of Values: The Struggle for Universal Freedom, who use to teach a class at Harvard University called “Happiness 101” (also known as Psychology 1504). In his class and through his research, he offered the following 6 very practical tips for cultivating happiness:

“1. Give yourself permission to be human.

  1. Happiness lies at the intersection between pleasure and meaning.
  2. Keep in mind that happiness is mostly dependent on our state of mind, not on our status or the state of our bank account.
  3. Simplify!”
  4. Remember the mind body connection.
  5. Express gratitude, whenever possible.”

I share these tips this time of year, because Monday at sunset marked the beginning Sukkot, which many people consider the “Season of Happiness,” because they view the instructions in the Bible as a mandate to be happy. Since the instruction is to be joyful, or rejoice, about things that have yet to happen – blessings yet to come – one has to wonder: How can we be “independently happy” and celebrate something that hasn’t happened yet?

That’s a good question, and the tips above are some of the really good answers. Especially, if you allow your gratitude to ride the waves of your consciousness, almost like a traveler in a time machine.

“‘There is no difference between Time and any of the three dimensions of Space except that our consciousness moves along it.’”

 

– quoted from The Time Machine by H. G. Wells

 

Portions of the following were previously posted on October 4, 2020 (see “Sukkot” link above).

In the Torah (and the Christian Old Testament), there are a list of commandments and, mixed into that list, are certain dates the faithful are commanded to observe. We think of them, in the modern context, as “holidays” and they are filled with ritual and tradition. Sometimes the mandate is general and left to interpretation (like when it says in Deuteronomy, “‘… and they shall not appear before the Lord empty: Every man shall give as he is able, according to the blessing of the Lord thy God which he hath given thee.’” Other times, however, it is very specific about who, what, when, and even where. Sukkot, the “Festival (or Feast) of the Tabernacles (or Booths)” is one of the times where the details are specific – even when they appear vague.

For seven days, 8 in the diaspora, people within the Jewish community and people who observe the commanded holidays, eat, sleep, socialize, and sometimes work in a temporary shelter. The shelter, a sukkah, consists of three walls of any material and a roof made of natural fiber. (Natural being something grown from the earth.) I mentioned last year that it is a holiday that seems tailor-made for the times we find ourselves in – when it is still recommended that people gather outdoors in small groups, maintain a little social distance, and wash their hands. I reiterate this, not to make light of the tradition or the circumstances we find ourselves in; but to reinforce the wisdom of the rituals and the traditions – as well as the fact that things can be sacred even when they are not perfect.

“Be joyful at your festival – you and your son, and your daughter, and your manservant, and your maid-servant, and the Levite, and the stranger, and the orphan, and the widow who live within your city.

 

For seven days you must celebrate the Festival to YHVH*, your God, in the place which YHVH* shall choose, because the Lord, your God, will bless you in all your produce, and in all the work of your hands, and you will only be happy.”

 

(*NOTE: YHVH is commonly translated as “the Lord” in English.)

 

– quoted from Devarim  – Deuteronomy (16:14 – 15)

 

One of the significant things about Sukkot is that it is a time for people to come together regardless of their circumstances, gender, religion, or political affiliation. It is a time for all to remember challenges of the past; while also celebrating better days ahead. Another especially noteworthy thing about Sukkot is the symbolism behind the rituals. For instance, one of the points of being outside in the most basic of shelters, exposed to the elements, is to remind people of the time when their ancestors were living in simple, temporary shelters when they were exiled in the desert for 40 years. It is also a good time to remember how much we have – as well as the fact that we could be happy with less. Sukkot is a reminder that life can be full, even when it is simple and bare-boned. It is a time of appreciation and it is also about accepting the present moment.

That last part – accepting the present moment – is easy to overlook. However, the commandment specifically states that the celebration occurs in a place chosen by God. In other words, we might not be where we want to be or where we thought we would be. (Hello, 2020 & 2021!) This is something I point out every year, but it was especially pointed out to me in 2016, when the creamery, where I held my 2015 Sukkot retreat was no longer available… and again, in 2017, when it was no longer as easy to schedule time in the church where I held the second retreat… and again, in 2019, when the church camp I had planned to use experienced a fire and had to cancel the bulk of their season. And now, here it is 2020 (& 2021) … once again, things are not as we planned – despite the fact that CP graciously offered to help me plan a 2020 retreat. On the face, it might seem that we are “destined” not to observe this time – and yet, we do, every year… just not necessarily in the place that we thought.

“Western society commonly perceives happiness as the outcome of what you achieve and acquire….

 

Happiness is not a happening. Happiness is a state of mind. You can have everything in the world and still be miserable. Or you can have relatively little and feel unbounded joy.

 

The Talmud says:

 

‘Who is rich? The one who appreciates what he has.’ (Pirkei Avot 4:1)”

 

– quoted from “Way #27: Happiness” in 48 Ways to Wisdom by Rabbi Noah Weinberg

 

Tuesday’s playlist is available on YouTube and Spotify. [Look for “Sukkot 2.5 for 09212021]

NOTE: YouTube has music from the original movie version of The Time Machine.

 

### Thank you for all that you do! Thank you for just being you!! ###