A Meandering Not-Yet-Irish Story, Perhaps

Beloved friends,

After a recent Meditation Gathering I had a lovely conversation with my dear friend Ash, who's been attending this donation-based weekly event for a couple of years now. The variety of her attendance makes my heart sing. In the beginning, she would often join while giving her home a little nest-making tidy-up, earbuds in and meandering while I spoke. Then there was a phase in which she wanted stillness-but-also-motion, and she would knit through our sessions. A lot of that knitting was a very long scarf for me as a welcome-back-to-land gift, which I cherish. Later still, she began to enjoy curling up in a ball for steady stillness sometimes – but not always. In perhaps my favorite session she joined us while on an inter-city bus to surprise her parents. I adore that she shows up however she can. I consider this a very healthy relationship with the integrative space that is meditation and a beautiful example of the kind of living flexibility I seek to teach: Tuesday mornings we tune in, however that can look.

In my courses I-and-we have developed an idea I've mentioned here before: that what feels like half-assing showing up is usually actually badassing, showing up through some sort of challenge. Folks often have the idea that coming to spiritual practice in particular requires us to be "good" – or worse: "good enough". In my teaching I repeat often: Every moment is good enough, and so are you. Just show up!

On a Saturday morning session in our most recent course, someone shared that she'd been feeling low that day, struggling both emotionally and physically, and really didn't think she could swing joining us. She remembered the line from How to Keep House While Drowning that "anything worth doing is worth doing half-assed", though, so she persevered with a change of tack: instead of getting dressed and sitting brightly at her desk with a camera on, she turned off her camera, had a hit of weed, and lugged her laptop out to curl up topless in a sunbeam on her back porch. She referred to this as "quarter-assing-it". Of course we celebrated her for making the session work for her the way it best could. Quarter-assing-it became a delightful theme, and I aim to carry it onward in community lore. Antiperfectionism is so healing, and especially vital in creating a consistent spiritual practice: if you just do the best you can, whatever that is, you can keep showing up for yourself. And when you keep showing up for yourself, change comes.

Let's return now to where I began, with Ash, who to be clear is not the quarter-asser. I met Ashley Gremel when we were both living on boats. Ash, her husband Scott, and their cat Cypress sailed their boat from San Francisco to Richmond, Virginia, an incredible two year journey. We crossed paths in Mexico, sharing a single lovely dinner. The next day I walked Scott and Ash around the farmer's market to show them my favorite vendors for stocking up. Azimuth sailed on. Also, Ash joined my next course, and we've stayed connected in a lovely friendship. You can follow her on Instagram or Substack, where I enjoy hearing her think about living. She's a gem!

I'm mentioning Ash today – slowly, wanderingly, because I am in an airport hotel on my last night in Ireland, still jetlagged 10 days in, and my heart and mind are overflowing with glorious experience to integrate; perhaps you'll do me the kindness of imagining this as a wandering not-yet Irish story; I'll have some things to say about Ireland itself next week as I digest – because of a conversation we had recently, as I mentioned here in opening. Ash reached out after meditation to say that she'd had a lovely session that day and that it had unfolded in a surprising way. As the session began, she had just finished some sweaty dashing about and was wishing for a shower in the sticky Virginia heat. But she felt like she ought to sit; it was meditation. In fact, she said, her inner voice told her to "Be serious!" But just then I began to say the things I often do about how making your body truly comfortable during meditation shows us on a deep level that we are safe here in practice, that our needs will be honored here. She took that as a sweet affirmation to hop into a cool shower. When she got out of the shower, she noticed taht the sink could use a scrub, and did that, too, before settling down wrapped in her towel for cozy stillness. She said that she wasn't sure about sharing this with the group because she wasn't sure how folks might feel about hearing of "chores" during meditation. I replied that

Currently, I don’t think of anything as a chore, really. I have learned over the years that I truly enjoy cleaning/caring for my home if I have the right tools and time... If I’ve had a real busy spell, then I want afterward to do what I think of as nesting and which I think might be what other folks call chores. Which is a long way of saying: cleaning the sink has no negative connotation for me. It sounds restful, order-making, and pleasant. And all of your experience is welcome at meditation!

I truly admire the way Ash shows up for practice: intimately, spontaneously, as suits her life in the actual living moment. She's shown up most weeks for a couple years because she gives herself this grace in doing so. Just like our other friend discovered when quarter-assing-it: if you let it be what it needs to be, it's such a loving refuge. When I asked Ash if she'd like to be named in this story, she said yes, and mentioned that she saw this as part of the metaphoric process I often speak of about the start of practice: how we take our time settling in, like a dog circles three-ish times before settling down. Ash gives herself time to settle in meditation. "Some weeks need more of that than others and it's all valid!" she wisely notes. When I asked our brilliant, beloved quarter-assing friend if she wanted to be named, and if so, should I leave out the cannabis and sun-drenched bosom?, she replied: "Don't name me and leave all those details in! I think it's an important example of the quarter-assing."

Thanks to you both for your grace and presence!

Resources

Love-drenched Autumn Immersion with Dahlia
Registration is now open for my-and-our next course, Love In Action. We'll be exploring what it looks like to put lovingkindness into action: how shifting from a conditional to an unconditional model of love empowers us to approach life with friendly curiosity, identify core needs for ourselves and others, and express needs and boundaries. Seven weeks of resourcing and growth which conclude before Thanksgiving to allow you to ease into the winter holidays with new skills and resources. There are options for levels of participation nowadays as my-and-our form has evolved rapidly this year to best serve you now.

All Our Efforts Are Dear
Just after my conversation with Ash about chores and meditation, I read a resonant article about the simple labors of our everyday living in the New York Times (gift link) by Lydia Sohn. Inspired by Cynthia Bourgeault's, The Wisdom Way of Knowing, which explores the time and work in Christian widom traditions, this piece speaks of the labors of everyday living – that which we are encouraged now to devalue and outsource – saying "Through my body’s daily offering, I bear witness to the belief that my private sphere is just as worthy of my attention as my public sphere and that my inner life is just as worthy of my care and labor as my outer one." Yes. This. We can scrub the sink at meditation. Curling up in a sunbeam is worthy of our efforts. Chopping vegetables and scrubbing the floors can be prayer.

Creating Makes us Well
"A new study... found that engaging in creative activities can significantly boost well-being by providing meaningful spaces for expression and achievement." I love this language from the actual study, that engaging in creative arts and crafts "significantly predicted increased life satisfaction, a sense that life is worthwhile and happiness". It is so natural for us to create, and good for us, too!

Basking in Creation
Speaking of creation, longtime community member Maggie Preston is an artist and teacher who has a show coming up. Since lots of folks who read this are in the San Francisco Bay Area, perhaps you'd like to consider seeing her work at Anglim/Trimble, where In the Manner of Paul Kos has just opened; the show runs through October 26. "In this exhibition curated by Kal Spelletich, 19 friends, colleagues and fans honor and reflect on the manner of Paul Kos."

Sacred Song
Last year I posted on social media seeking musical suggestions for someone in one of my courses who was looking for music to listen to with her children. Meg tagged Noe Venable into the conversation – Noe is beloved San Francisco Bay Area musician and songleader, and she recommended Beloved Chorus. Gorgeous women's acapella that makes your hair stand on end and your heart settle, both; the kind of music the meme above refers to. I mentioned their song "Pachamama" here a few weeks ago. Since then I've been smitten with the whole album, Hymns of Spirit (Spotify and Bandcamp). I'm just far enough into my learning-to-drive adventure that I can fly down the green country roads of my home with the top down, singing, and this is the first and only album I've had on in my sweet little convertible. Delicious stuff.

Living is a Story and Stories Teach Us Living
Another thing I recommended recently is Robin Sloan's all-ages science fiction epic Moonbound. Thanks to Leah for reaching out to me after taking me up on that suggestion and for permission to share her thoughts; I love to weave your voices here! Leah says,"I just finished Moonbound. WOW. I may have to just start back at the beginning again. Damn I love a deeply weird book like that. So gorgeous and strange."

Giving
My-and-therefore-our seasonal tithe of 5% of my income has been given this season in an uncommon way: to the Harris Walz campaign. If you're reading this, I don't think I need to explain why.

May all beings everywhere know peace and wholeness, freedom and belonging.
May it be so.
May it be so.
May it be so.