I admit to never having intentionally tried to practice meditation by following ‘a practical guide to…’ Though after reading this portion of ‘On Enlightenment’ , it is exactly what I have been doing everyday . “When you walk as meditation…” The revelation , gently lying within the boundaries of the water droplet in a leaf, yes, the leaf. I have taken many photos of those tiny pools of water over this past season, bending down, careful not to disturb , or as AI just tried to change it to, distort. I will not continue on with what I saw in the droplet, you have already described it beautifully. I hiked the same steep country road every day, not focusing on anything particular until that moment when I am drawn in. And it need not be defined . A curl of a fern , a new leaf bud just forming on a branch, a heart shaped stone, the Hermit Thrush calling from the towering Birch. The secret ingredients, to unfocus, one foot in front of the other, totally immersed without thought, in full observation , of everything. Conversation optional but preferably absent, ruminations left at the doorstep . It is the art of an unconscious learning by repetition . And don’t forget to breathe. Heading over to hike to ‘finis terre’ , believe it or not, I’ve never accompanied you on your journey.
I think that is the practical guide, Lor. I envy your natural connection to the natural world. I have it, but not as you describe here. I was reading recently about the numbers of taste buds that we have on our tongue can be visually counted. If you want to be a sommelier, you'd better have a high count or there's no fixing it. I think a connection to the natural world is a bit like that, too. I love walking (as Finisterre will bear out), but I'm not always that clear why I love walking. Finisterre may be more about me than you ever wanted to know. You'll need a long walk in the woods afterwards and a small handful of leaves with water droplets on them to clear your head. Not to say that I can't wait to read your notes (if you leave them, just sayin')
those) people who enjoy walking with my husband , and dog. Truthfully the goal of my walking is one of my ways to stay strong , to be able to do the sports I love, cycling, hiking and my favorite, backcountry skiing. The surprising benefit is the meditative component, which I never considered until you mentioned it. Oh, and exhausting our one 1/2 year old pup into submission. RE: Finisterre ,are you telling me I am hereby being forewarned of bad hygiene habits on the trail ? 🚫🧼🚫🚿
I've seen pictures of that adorable puppy. That would make anybody like hiking.
I am happy to report I was very hygienic on my walk, and, even better, I've never been someone who has a quick-to-stink body chemistry. Snoring, moderate. Attitude, questionable. Patience, thin. Determination, above average. 1000 miles it all took me.
Your moment with the leaf and water drop--it seems to me that in that moment you were language-free. i'm as bad with meditating as you in your part one of this series (excuse that word "bad," i'm thinking you know what i mean, i'm not judging). but i've had the leaf and water drop moment many times in my life, and each time it was because i had left language behind and entered into a (zen-like) focus of art-making, that kind of intense, wordless focus where time disappears. That is always my ultimate goal, to sink into that headspace and it never comes from breathing and noticing thoughts and not judging them and going back to the breath, etc. It only comes from making something with my hands. I walk and try to stay in notice-mode; I tell myself to observe and be present. But no, there is too much thought involved. I take a ball of clay and play with it and the world disappears. Also, lying down to take a nap--there are those moments before you conk out of child-like daydreaming. This is also what I aim for. I hope i'm somewhere near the discussion here, i may have gone down the wrong road. Anyway, you are so funny and smart and I love your writing.
i wonder if 'the way' into it is completely individual. for you it's the tactile creation of art. for somebody else it is breathing. another, it's a mantra... My mind races so furiously and relentlessly, i wonder if 'control your mind' exercises are a dead end for me as they seem to be for you, too. for all that, i don't really chase experiences like this anymore. My deepest connection is writing. There's nothing mystical about it (i don't disappear into the page), but i'll take a good day writing over just about anything other than my family and loved ones.
you are, btw, yes, haha, 'near the discussion.' And, i have a special bonus for you and only you. you know the exact location of my leaf. Fort Ward parking lot in front of the boat launch. you were probably less than a mile away. 💦🍁
I can see it! (I was actually on the island last week. As i drove down Miller, I could almost imagine that nothing had changed.) I, too, love a good day writing, or even a good fifteen minutes. Getting a sentence right--best feeling in the world.
This was awesome. Reading this, I came to contemplate that perhaps the entire reason I write, or make music, or express myself at all is an attempt to somehow convey what is fundamentally inexpressible. The paradox tears me up.
🙏 Thanks, Eric. (Do you mean "tears" as rhyming with bears or fears? Both make sense in their way.)
You are a fellow traveler for sure. I have a brief note tomorrow on why I posted this series. Something very strange happened a week ago. it's just a quick thing but it is a little jaw-dropping, too.
While walking my dog first thing in the morning, I photographed water droplets on a leaf. I often look at this beautiful shot and the story it tells. You make me wish I had touched the lef and made the droplet roll, instead of just taking a picture. The experience was at hand but my hand stayed on the phone, as hands so often do. I enjoyed this.
Thanks, Rona. It was a brief, crazy little moment that has haunted me in a small way. I love it that you were photographing them this morning. We see water drops all of the time. We see leaves all of the time, but the combination is a powerful mix. I wrap this tomorrow with a brief note, but it explains why I posted all of this, too.
Fwiw: my hands are glued to my phone. I give up. I'm turning into a cyborg.
Amen! I think, like you, I'm mostly a fleeting robe thief, all thanks to death, dying and birds. Though I did once take an extraordinarily large dose of hallucinogens and, a couple of hours in, had the thought "Gosh, I've got a lot to do on Monday" followed by "Wait, what's a Monday? I should really know what a Monday is, oh God..." and then everything fell away and I was nothing and everything and it was terrifying and beautiful and horrific and, simultaneously, absolutely nothing, but nothing over dark water. A play within a play, indeed...
I knew a little terror and beauty there myself, but never at the same time. I spent some long hours in dark water, treading water for hours in a vast empty ocean, infinitesimally small, alone, bobbing, water in my mouth, begging myself out loud not to panic. Fun! Another time, things were so wonderful I hatched plans for spiking the NY State water reservoirs. Ah, youth! College! Sigh... Now, I've given up on raindrops, fungi, and going to sleep after 10pm. It's all Mondays now.
This is a beautiful series, Adam, if a bit dismaying. I’ve had the tacit hope that if I simply discipline myself to sit down and do the 30 minutes for some number of days or weeks or months (or years!) then the whole enlightenment thing will just happen naturally.
Are you going to let us know how the ten weeks went?
Thanks. I appreciate that. I do actually write about how it went in its way. It is what Finisterre is about. Publishing that memoir about walking a thousand miles from our home in France to the Atlantic on the coast of spain is about this very thing. If you're curious it is what is in the Substack "section" header in the menu. You can pick up chapters here and there. I don't think reading it has to be completely linear. Thanks again for the note/likes on enlightenment and (Knuckleball Artist.) I think it is better than the audience it's getting, but I'm pressing on.
I admit to never having intentionally tried to practice meditation by following ‘a practical guide to…’ Though after reading this portion of ‘On Enlightenment’ , it is exactly what I have been doing everyday . “When you walk as meditation…” The revelation , gently lying within the boundaries of the water droplet in a leaf, yes, the leaf. I have taken many photos of those tiny pools of water over this past season, bending down, careful not to disturb , or as AI just tried to change it to, distort. I will not continue on with what I saw in the droplet, you have already described it beautifully. I hiked the same steep country road every day, not focusing on anything particular until that moment when I am drawn in. And it need not be defined . A curl of a fern , a new leaf bud just forming on a branch, a heart shaped stone, the Hermit Thrush calling from the towering Birch. The secret ingredients, to unfocus, one foot in front of the other, totally immersed without thought, in full observation , of everything. Conversation optional but preferably absent, ruminations left at the doorstep . It is the art of an unconscious learning by repetition . And don’t forget to breathe. Heading over to hike to ‘finis terre’ , believe it or not, I’ve never accompanied you on your journey.
I think that is the practical guide, Lor. I envy your natural connection to the natural world. I have it, but not as you describe here. I was reading recently about the numbers of taste buds that we have on our tongue can be visually counted. If you want to be a sommelier, you'd better have a high count or there's no fixing it. I think a connection to the natural world is a bit like that, too. I love walking (as Finisterre will bear out), but I'm not always that clear why I love walking. Finisterre may be more about me than you ever wanted to know. You'll need a long walk in the woods afterwards and a small handful of leaves with water droplets on them to clear your head. Not to say that I can't wait to read your notes (if you leave them, just sayin')
I am one of those
( accentuate the word,
those) people who enjoy walking with my husband , and dog. Truthfully the goal of my walking is one of my ways to stay strong , to be able to do the sports I love, cycling, hiking and my favorite, backcountry skiing. The surprising benefit is the meditative component, which I never considered until you mentioned it. Oh, and exhausting our one 1/2 year old pup into submission. RE: Finisterre ,are you telling me I am hereby being forewarned of bad hygiene habits on the trail ? 🚫🧼🚫🚿
If so, you’ll be hearing about it in my comments.
I've seen pictures of that adorable puppy. That would make anybody like hiking.
I am happy to report I was very hygienic on my walk, and, even better, I've never been someone who has a quick-to-stink body chemistry. Snoring, moderate. Attitude, questionable. Patience, thin. Determination, above average. 1000 miles it all took me.
The walk was the best thing I've ever done.
Ok, see ya on the trail, but if your feet stink, you’ll be hearing about it.🥾🥾
There you go again, writing all my words before I get here! Lor, you will love Finisterre... x
She does have a way of putting it/living it. Such a delight to get both of your comments when i post something.
Whats that saying, oh yeah, ‘when you snooze you lose’
What Lor said... especially "Conversation optional but preferably absent, ruminations left at the doorstep"
Your moment with the leaf and water drop--it seems to me that in that moment you were language-free. i'm as bad with meditating as you in your part one of this series (excuse that word "bad," i'm thinking you know what i mean, i'm not judging). but i've had the leaf and water drop moment many times in my life, and each time it was because i had left language behind and entered into a (zen-like) focus of art-making, that kind of intense, wordless focus where time disappears. That is always my ultimate goal, to sink into that headspace and it never comes from breathing and noticing thoughts and not judging them and going back to the breath, etc. It only comes from making something with my hands. I walk and try to stay in notice-mode; I tell myself to observe and be present. But no, there is too much thought involved. I take a ball of clay and play with it and the world disappears. Also, lying down to take a nap--there are those moments before you conk out of child-like daydreaming. This is also what I aim for. I hope i'm somewhere near the discussion here, i may have gone down the wrong road. Anyway, you are so funny and smart and I love your writing.
i wonder if 'the way' into it is completely individual. for you it's the tactile creation of art. for somebody else it is breathing. another, it's a mantra... My mind races so furiously and relentlessly, i wonder if 'control your mind' exercises are a dead end for me as they seem to be for you, too. for all that, i don't really chase experiences like this anymore. My deepest connection is writing. There's nothing mystical about it (i don't disappear into the page), but i'll take a good day writing over just about anything other than my family and loved ones.
you are, btw, yes, haha, 'near the discussion.' And, i have a special bonus for you and only you. you know the exact location of my leaf. Fort Ward parking lot in front of the boat launch. you were probably less than a mile away. 💦🍁
thanks for the kind words on the writing.
I can see it! (I was actually on the island last week. As i drove down Miller, I could almost imagine that nothing had changed.) I, too, love a good day writing, or even a good fifteen minutes. Getting a sentence right--best feeling in the world.
This was awesome. Reading this, I came to contemplate that perhaps the entire reason I write, or make music, or express myself at all is an attempt to somehow convey what is fundamentally inexpressible. The paradox tears me up.
🙏 Thanks, Eric. (Do you mean "tears" as rhyming with bears or fears? Both make sense in their way.)
You are a fellow traveler for sure. I have a brief note tomorrow on why I posted this series. Something very strange happened a week ago. it's just a quick thing but it is a little jaw-dropping, too.
While walking my dog first thing in the morning, I photographed water droplets on a leaf. I often look at this beautiful shot and the story it tells. You make me wish I had touched the lef and made the droplet roll, instead of just taking a picture. The experience was at hand but my hand stayed on the phone, as hands so often do. I enjoyed this.
Thanks, Rona. It was a brief, crazy little moment that has haunted me in a small way. I love it that you were photographing them this morning. We see water drops all of the time. We see leaves all of the time, but the combination is a powerful mix. I wrap this tomorrow with a brief note, but it explains why I posted all of this, too.
Fwiw: my hands are glued to my phone. I give up. I'm turning into a cyborg.
Amen! I think, like you, I'm mostly a fleeting robe thief, all thanks to death, dying and birds. Though I did once take an extraordinarily large dose of hallucinogens and, a couple of hours in, had the thought "Gosh, I've got a lot to do on Monday" followed by "Wait, what's a Monday? I should really know what a Monday is, oh God..." and then everything fell away and I was nothing and everything and it was terrifying and beautiful and horrific and, simultaneously, absolutely nothing, but nothing over dark water. A play within a play, indeed...
I knew a little terror and beauty there myself, but never at the same time. I spent some long hours in dark water, treading water for hours in a vast empty ocean, infinitesimally small, alone, bobbing, water in my mouth, begging myself out loud not to panic. Fun! Another time, things were so wonderful I hatched plans for spiking the NY State water reservoirs. Ah, youth! College! Sigh... Now, I've given up on raindrops, fungi, and going to sleep after 10pm. It's all Mondays now.
Oh, boo hoo, me.
I can get in it when playing music. "A meditative experience". Gonna go do the dishes and look for it there, too.
How did the dishes go? Have you made it back?
Make sure someone is watching the children in case you disappear into the soap bubbles.
Anyway, I'm in there. I'll keep an eye out for you. I've learned how to navigate about pretty well now. Btw, change your dishwater more frequently.
Actually found it for a minute today in a walk…
This is a beautiful series, Adam, if a bit dismaying. I’ve had the tacit hope that if I simply discipline myself to sit down and do the 30 minutes for some number of days or weeks or months (or years!) then the whole enlightenment thing will just happen naturally.
Are you going to let us know how the ten weeks went?
Thanks. I appreciate that. I do actually write about how it went in its way. It is what Finisterre is about. Publishing that memoir about walking a thousand miles from our home in France to the Atlantic on the coast of spain is about this very thing. If you're curious it is what is in the Substack "section" header in the menu. You can pick up chapters here and there. I don't think reading it has to be completely linear. Thanks again for the note/likes on enlightenment and (Knuckleball Artist.) I think it is better than the audience it's getting, but I'm pressing on.