QUAIL MUTTERINGS #41. Letting Go and Reassessing (August 22, 2016)

Posted on August 23, 2016 by Chi

I suppose there is always some fear associated with a free fall although mine wasn’t, or isn’t, really unplanned. I knew it would be difficult. I would miss the kids as well as creating in that particular art form. After thirty-seven years of teaching dance I had decided to take down my shingle and close up shop. I still loved what I did, but there were other things that beckoned me that there simply wasn’t time for. And there never would be if I continued to hang onto something that I had been doing for so long. Granted, it was huge part of who I was, but in order to grow I needed to get out of my comfort zone and allow myself more time to be available for other things. Things like writing, being an involved grandparent, and sharing our canyon with visitors who needed an escape into nature (our new ecotourism business).
By the end of April The Dance Centre had performed its last story ballet and I had sorted, sold, donated or stored all of the costumes, equipment and accessories which had called the place home since the 1980’s. After taking the last load out and cleaning the studio I fought back tears as I locked the door behind me for the final time. Since then I’ve had to bury my feelings and only allow them to surface in manageable doses, every now and then. In the meantime plenty has happened.
On May 9th my daughter, Kali, gave birth to little Kya and I was thrilled to be there in my motherly/grandmotherly/doula capacity. It was a true honor and privilege to be there to welcome our third grandchild into the family. Kali and Edwin worked well as a team to lovingly bring their new daughter into the world. And the same midwife who had delivered all three of my kids was there to bring it around full circle. A second time. She had also been there to assist Jessie through her labor. Now, both of my daughters had home births, just as they had gone through as babies on the other end of the spectrum. My mom had been in the role which I now am in and I can only hope that my presence is appreciated as much to them as she was to me.
From late May into June Kent and I spent close to a month away. We were on the East Coast with relatives for the first week and the rest was spent in France and Italy where we branched out to experience other cultures. Towards the end of July I went with my sister and a couple of female friends to stay at our cousin’s house in Costa Rica. We managed to squeeze a week in the tropical paradise just before their house closed escrow and would be gone from us forever. Sometimes you just gotta jump on those things!
These adventures have undoubtedly helped distract me from the many mixed feelings surrounding the finished chapter of my previous dancing life. There are certain things which I am definitely happy not to have to spend my valuable time doing. The bookkeeping, for instance, and all the paper/computer work. Cleaning the studio and budgeting for advertizing. Phone calls arranging extra rehearsal times. And, my driving time. Then – occupied by figuring out what I was going to teach in the classes that day, and now – listening to books on tape, music, or better yet: quiet, uninterrupted free thoughts. I don’t have to make myself think up an order of dance moves and then try to retain it all until it could be passed on to the dancers’ bodies. Yes, I really do like having my brain space freed up for extraneous thoughts that come and go.
It’s all about balance. I need time to putter. I think it might be one of my favorite things to do. Perhaps because it’s so rare to snatch a bit of time from our busy schedules and allow ourselves the pleasure of simply drifting from one task to the next. And to use the opportunity to be mindful of our actions during the process. Kent and I like to go to Deer Park every so often to get our dose of Buddhism and practice mindfulness in a supportive community. It’s hard to be mindful when we’re running around in so many directions at once. Yesterday we acknowledged the fourteen mindfulness trainings after doing walking meditation and then listening to one of the nuns give a Dharma talk. We used headsets and listened to a translator since this week’s Dharma Talk was in Vietnamese. The trainings focus on good, honest, compassionate existence with all of creation. Just imagine if every human on the planet communicated with words of loving kindness and inclusiveness rather than dualistic, separatist talk. What a place that could be. As close a thing to utopia as I can see.
So while I continue to struggle with keeping a balance in my life between work, obligations, maintaining community and family, and taking time to just smile and breathe, I realize that it will always be so. I will constantly need to let go and reassess to maintain an equilibrium in life. At least I know that it’s something worth doing. And redoing.

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #33. Go As A River (February 22, 2015)

Posted on February 22, 2015 by Chi

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #33. Go As A River (February 22, 2015)

Why must we spend the majority of our precious, limited time doing things that really don’t matter in the big scheme of life? Things like repeated phone conversations to various companies or agencies that don’t seem to be familiar with the information that we had just called about the day before. Sometimes a business might have been bought out by a larger one or a merge has occurred or the entity grows to take on more than it is effectively capable of handling. For whatever reason, more and more of my time appears to be eaten up by these fruitless, frustrating endeavors. For me, these repeated conversations to the same person, or someone new, are extremely irritating and should, by all rights, be completely unnecessary.
For instance, one of the local propane companies can’t seem to get their paperwork and billing straight no matter how many times they reluctantly try. No one person is held accountable anymore. The big picture is somehow out of their reach and inaccessible.
“It’s not my fault…”
“Well, what can you do about it?” I ask.
Nothing really, is the underlying response. The maddening, circular conversation continues.
“Go as a river,” says Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh.
I’m trying, but it’s downright hard.
Two weeks ago Kent and I went to Deer Park for a “tune-up” as we like to call it. This beautiful, peaceful Buddhist monastery lies in the hills above Escondido. After gathering into a circle and singing some songs together we embarked on the walking meditation. Consciously lifting one foot and placing it in front of the other we become aware of the earth below the soles of our feet and how our movements affect everything around us. It’s wonderful to experience the silence that a group of a few hundred fellow brothers and sisters are capable of when everyone is practicing mindfulness. I love coming here and not having to talk much or listen to unsolicited, endless banter. We’re all working on being more conscious, compassionate individuals.
As we begin our ascent up the mountain trail the familiar fragrance of lilac filled my olfactory senses. I closed my mouth and inhaled deeply. Coming around a bend I saw the source: a Lakeside Lilac loaded with vibrant, dark blue blossoms. I nodded my grateful, appreciation to my fellow earth dweller. Gazing across the valley I began wondering about where the dirt road in the distance went. Was it heading to a new development? Was it a fire road? And then I noticed that I had slipped back into that ‘thinking habit.’ I returned to my breathing again. In, out, deep, slow, calm, ease, smile, release, present moment, wonderful moment. I redirected my attention to each step and paid attention to my feet landing on the outside of my instep.
Somehow I’d merged to the inside of the group and found myself bothered that others had closed in around me. I side passed my way toward the outside edge of the moving river – back to my natural comfort zone. Again, I realized my slippage into ‘thinking’, but continued anyway.
This walking meditation seemed a parallel to life. We go along happy and secure and then along comes an illness or event that damages the peace we’d been experiencing. And then, perhaps, we’re content again until we get yet another incorrect bill from the propane company. I mostly wish this wouldn’t happen, but I also wish that I didn’t let it get to me so much and permeate any other peace that I may have been enjoying. But it does. My attempt at this point is to watch my irritation and notice what it does within my body and little by little let it go – until the time comes when I, once again, must do my best to rectify the details with the propane company and sincerely hope that THIS TIME the matter at hand will be settled once and for all. At least for these current invoices.
Kent and I ate the delicious vegan lunch prepared at the monastery, in relative silence, up in the garden by the lily pond. A small sign with Peace is Every Step, written in beautiful calligraphy, peeks out from behind some foliage and I hear a distant bell ring. I stop, close my eyes, and take a deep, appreciative breath.
At a little before 2:00 PM we wandered back down to the meditation hall to take part in the “Deep Relaxation.” The monk speaks softly, off and on, calmly guiding our attention to various organs in our body, to send each one our loving kindness and appreciation for the job they do. Lying on our backs we heard a Native American flute, a didgeridoo, a soft beating drum. Without turning my head and opening my eyes I would have never guessed that all this music came from his expertise playing a long segment of PVC pipe! I closed my eyes and returned to my breathing. In, out, deep, slow, calm, ease, smile, release, present moment, wonderful moment…

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Chi directs the Ramona Dance Centre. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.