senses. artist date.

{see}

{smell}

{taste}

{hear}

{touch}

{and know}

senses. sangha.

{feel}
As soon as I step into the room, I sigh. Calm. Safe. Sangha. The scratchy, thick wool blanket. A tacky, sticky yoga mat. The warm embrace of others as we greet one another. Some pause as they hug. Sigh. Honor one another. Grateful to see one another. I sit on my blanket, fold my legs in front of me, and settle in for an afternoon of learning, sharing, listening. As we start our time with chanting, I feel the sound of all our voices vibrate inside me. As we begin to discuss, just discuss, inversions, my energy, the group's energy, increases. As the afternoon ends, again we embrace one another. Validation and support in the form of a hug. The knowledge that we will do this again the next day. Two days of community, learning, sharing.

{hear}
Happy voices of the group greeting one another. For many it has been a month since we have seen one another. To being the afternoon, we chant to Ganesh and honor our teachers and teachers' teachers. People begin to check-in. I hear their truth. They share with such honesty and integrity in their voices. Tears. Laughter. Tears again. Validation. Affirmation. The calm, wise voice of our teacher. Her infectious laughter. She shares her knowledge without attachment, inviting questions, conversation. We study inversions. Changing your perspective by literally turning yourself upside down. An excited voice says something like, "did anyone else just love headstands as a kid? I would watch tv standing on my head." Laughter. No one quite agreed but we could all relate to the child-like joy. Throughout the afternoon, moments of quiet counterpose the energy, laughter, voices.

{smell}
Fresh air drifts in through the open windows. It is warm enough (read: no rain, wind, or gray sky) to have the windows open. Yes. Yes. Yes. Someone brought foil-wrapped hearts. As I bring one to my lips, the intoxicating smell of my vice, chocolate. Can I let one be enough? No. Throughout the afternoon I eat three. Later, the spicy, warm, stomach-grumbling inducing smells wafting from the kitchen of a Thai restaurant.

{taste}
The salad, my new favorite meal, that I brought for lunch. I taste dried cranberries, blue cheese, apple, lettuce, walnuts. I am eating a salad and loving it, I think to myself with a little happiness and pride. Later, the hot, rich, bitter flavor of a vanilla latte. Even later, peanut sauce, curry, rice, noodles, vegetables shared with four friends. The spices cha-cha on my tongue in the midst of conversation and laughter. The welcome clear, cleansing taste of water when the curry is a bit more than my tastebuds can handle.

{see}
On days like this, I usually focus on faces. Smile, sadness, serious eyes, frown of confusion, nodding affirmation, a wink as a joke is shared, quizzically raised eyebrows, laughter and wrinkles around the eyes. And when we study asana, I then focus on bodies. On this day, bodies in shoulder stand, head stand, supported head stand. Although I am not yet brave enough to experience these poses, I enjoy the change in perspective these poses invite in others. A new look at the world. Upside down.

{and know}
You can find a community of people, a sangha, and know that you are not alone in your journey. Take a breath and open your heart to the possibility.

senses. a memory.

{see}
My apartment in Indiana, late March 2001. Books are stacked on shelves, on each other, on the floor. Storypeople adorn the walls. I sit on my purple chenille couch, the calypso flower print comforter from my bed across my lap. Next to me, curled up with his head on my lap, is my new companion, Traveler. I traveled to Tennessee to pick him up; his previous experiences are unknown to me, but he seems to realize he has found his forever home. He has lived with me for nine days. His fur is golden red; he wears a red collar and a green bandana. The only light is from the television. We are tucked into the couch, cuddled up, sharing the comforter watching Natalie Portman have a baby, fall in love, run away from love, run back to it in Where the Heart Is. Traveler's eyes are usually closed. He must have learned these lessons already.

{taste}
Rich, cold chocolate ice cream. What more could a girl want. My memory chooses to believe it was Haagen Daz right from the carton.

{smell}
A candle burns and the slight scent of sandlewood fills the air. I bend down to kiss Traveler's nose and smell his doggy breath that still has the faint odor of his dinner.

{hear}
A driver revs a car engine and peels out at the stop sign. The refrigerator hums. The heater kicks on. Traveler sighs, yawns, sighs again. Drama abounds through the language, words, feelings that sound through the television speakers. Toward the end of the movie, I hear my own breath as tears fall and I cry.

{feel}
Trav's soft fur as I stroke his head with my fingertips. The cold ice cream as I indulge. The soft cotton of my orange and red striped pajama pants. As I watch the last few moments of the movie, my heart seems to pause for a moment. Will I ever find this love? Even crappy, over-dramatized movie kind of love. Will anyone ever look at me and want to stop the world just to be with me? Will I always be alone? I begin to cry. Traveler moves his head to my hand and I feel the warmth of his breath. My tears stop. I feel my heart begin to beat again. I have enough. I am enough. I hear my own voice say out loud, "If it is just you and me Traveler, it will be okay."

{and know}
It is only when you let go of controlling the dream that you can be quiet enough to see it when it crosses your path. (Three weeks later my husband and I went on our first date.)

This post is dedicated to my first golden child Traveler. A year ago today, Jon and I had to let Trav go. I miss him but know I am blessed that he gave me such gifts.

senses. airport.

{smell} The air is stale but seems fresh after getting off the airplane. As I walk a little farther, I begin to smell the carts of fried food. Cinnabons, pretzels, french fries. I am glad I have time to eat.

{hear}
Beep, beep, beep as the cart whizzes by on my left. People talk. Quiet, loud, annoyed, excited, silly, happy, angry tones all around me. Monotone recorded voices remind us not to leave our baggage unattended. Friendly, tired voices call people to their gates. "Just one tonight?" Yes, yes, traveling alone. Eating at a sit down restaurant all alone can be a pleasure, yes, a pleasure, even in an airport. "May I take your order." Hamburger and a Sam Adams please. "May I see your ID?" With pleasure. People talk on cell phones as they sit alone at their tables. I hear a man in annoyed tones who appears to be talking to himself. Then I see the earpiece. Do we know how odd we look talking to no one?

{taste}
I bring the pint of beer to my lips; the rich flavor hits my tongue, then slides down my throat. I smile. Though I don't often drink beer, sometimes a cold beer makes my heart a little happy. And then a hamburger with cheddar cheese. In the last year, hamburgers have become my airport comfort food when I have enough time to sit and eat at a "nicer" airport restaurant. Not sure why. But I am just going with it. As I walk to my terminal, I pull a piece of wintergreen gum from my purse and pop it into my mouth. Fresh breath. Just like that.

{see}
People rush by me on all sides. Pulling their luggage behind them, some almost push each other out of the way. The fear of missing a plane on their faces. Long hallway through the G terminal. Moving walkways as far as you can see. People dressed in jeans, skirts, high heels, flip flops, suits, shorts. Many seem unaware that they are in Minnesota in January. Dreams of someplace warm, anyplace sunny, abound. I am jealous. When I sit down to eat, I pick-up the napkin to unwrap the silverware. For a moment I am confused. Plasticware. Then I remember. Terrorists. Right. No knives. People will steal the knives and try to hurt other passengers. Will they really? Sadness just for a moment. I watch the other diners, other people who are lucky, like me, and have arrived on time with enough of a layover to eat a meal sitting at a clean table in a quieter nook of the airport. A young man with a much older woman. Grandmother and grandson? She laughs as he animatedly tells his story. A woman sits alone and talks on her cell phone, pauses to order, then returns to her conversation. A group of six people get ready to leave. Time to get to their gate. They seem excited. The waitresses hurry with orders, food, drinks because they know their customers are passengers who have a firm agenda. My gaze moves over the words on the last page of a book I started earlier that day.

"It was only a smile, nothing more. It didn't make everything all right. It didn't make anything all right. Only a smile. A tiny thing. A leaf in the woods, shaking in the wake of a startled bird's flight.
But I'll take it. With open arms. Because when spring comes, it melts the snow one flake at a time, and maybe I just witnessed the first flake melting."

{feel}
Tears sting my eyes as I read. My heart catches as I find myself hoping with the narrator. I do not want the book to end, so I savor the last few words. As I finish my beer, I note that feeling of drinking a beer on a mostly empty stomach. So no, I won't have another, thank you. I pick up my heavy backpack and swing it behind be, putting one arm through, then the other. I drape my coat over my arm and pick up my other bag. The nervousness of the time kicks in as I walk down the long hall to my gate. Then I see that they aren't boarding yet. A sigh of relief. Find the bathroom. Then back to the gate. Sit down. The calm of having enough time. I reach into my bag and pull out the next book, smiling to myself as I run my hand across the smooth cover.

{and know}
The companion of a good book is a wonderful sort of friend to have as you travel across the country.

(Quote from the last page of The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini.)

senses. a movie.

{smell}
The popcorn is the first thing your nose finds. But I am in Seattle, so coffee is the next. There is the popcorn, candy, pop concessions guy and the coffee barista concessions guy. Later, after the popcorn has been devoured, I smell my wool sweater as I bring the corner of my sleeve to my eyes to wipe a tear.

{taste}
Popcorn, of course. And cherry coke. The bubbles, the fizz, the syrup, the way it slides down my throat. My special treat when I go to the movies. Love it.

{hear}
Stirring music that danced with the scenery, the feelings, the acting on the screen. A few moments invited audible laughter, but throughout the story, the people around me were quiet. Words filled with emotion, simple and complex feelings, love, pain, sadness, fear, hope, anger, happiness. A day later, I still feel haunted by these words and the feelings they invited with their resonance.

{touch}
In between my husband and my friend, I am the keeper of the popcorn. I hold the bag in my hand and feel the course fluffs of popcorn in my hand as I bring the pieces to my mouth. I move the bag from one side to the other so they both can reach it. Halfway through the movie I grab my husband's hand, and I do not let go. The sadness invites the need for reassurance. With each breath it is as though the feelings I see on the screen are also felt by me. As though the words of the actors reach out from the screen like a hand, and the palm of that hand gently touches my chest. An understanding. The literal feeling of human emotion as an action inside. Tears, laughter, smiles, a creased forehead. As I get up from my seat and put my coat on it feels a bit like a cloak of protection.

{see}
An incredible old theatre that is now a movie house. The large red curtain opens as the previews begin. The movie we have come to see starts and within the first few minutes my eyes are reveling in the vivid, gorgeous scenery. Right there with them as they ride up those hills. The wonder of new love, joy of hope, fear of pain on the faces on the screen. A glimpse into 60's Wyoming, true love, lies, marriage, a cowboy's life, family. Another time. Would the fear be as wide and deep today? I don't know; my own fear is that it is. A beautiful, inspiring, sad movie that illustrates its truth without fear. We sat in our seats as the credits rolled. Partly because the three of us did not want to move; partly because my friend was crying. And as we saw the last two words on the screen, "The End," the big red curtains closed. It was such a simple moment. The End. The curtains close. The story ends. But we will not forget.

{and know}
Beauty can be found in the spectrum of human emotions...beauty. Do not be afraid to feel.