by susantara | Aug 13, 2015 | Spiritual Journey, Teach Our Children Well |
There is a distinct rhythm to a teacher’s life. When the glorious insect symphony reaches a crescendo with the chirping of crickets as the most prominent voice, and the corn is tall, and evenings become cooler, it’s time to turn attention to beginning a new school year. But not this year, since I resigned from my job. And that disruption of my normal rhythm has been throwing me off! It feels unnatural.
Driven to connect with a more universal and abiding rhythm, I heard the ocean call my name. There is nothing that restores rhythm and perspective like standing at the edge of the vast ocean watching the waves roll in. I longed to breathe the salty air, synchronize my breath with the rhythm of the waves, and inhale the sheer power and majesty of the ocean. I yearned for the ocean to raise my vibration and thus tune my instrument so I may move forward in greater harmony with Life.
And so my daughter, son, and I headed to the beaches of Rhode Island for our first-ever, mini beach vacation with just the three of us. We planned to go to Ithaca, New York – our old stomping ground and waterfall paradise – but agreed unanimously at the last minute to go to Rhode Island instead.
As I watched my 20-year-old daughter stand at the edge of the ocean as the tide came in and the waves grew in size and intensity, I captured an image that is worth a thousand words. It is the story of a mother standing behind her daughter and hoping she is prepared for the journey ahead and its unforeseen waves.
I’ve been meditating on waves – all the waves life thrusts our way. The inevitable, intense, and spectacular waves. A day at the beach would not be nearly so alluring without them.
I feel like I have been a student of waves lately. I have been trying to learn how to keep my balance, especially when the ocean pulls so much away, with such force.
But it also brings us gifts from its invisible depths. We delight in finding exiquisite shells, smooth stones, Mother Nature’s artwork, and other surprises in the sand. The ocean moves in a rhythm of turbulence and grace.
My prayer for my children is that they will develop the capacity to maintain their balance when the waves hit.
Meditation is one way to facilitate balance. As a kindergarten teacher, I taught a calming breath practice by placing a rubber duck on each child’s abdomen as they lay on their backs on the carpet. I instructed the children to do deep, belly breathing by making the ducks rise and fall, gently and slowly as if they were riding waves at the beach. A duck-free version of this basic practice helps me to calm down, find my center, and push the reset button when the stress response gets activated. But even better to practice in calm waters so it becomes a more automatic response when the waves roll in.
I believe that teaching children how to regain calm and balance and build resilience and courage are among the most important gifts we can offer them.
I wish for my children to have a happy life, but even more than that, I wish for them to have the fortitude to withstand and thrive in this imperfect, challenging life on planet Earth. To breathe through the waves and by doing so, access their calm center and discern with a clear and spacious mind how to respond most effectively to whatever situations and circumstances life sends their way. To trust the rhythm of life – the messiness and awkwardness of it – and not feel they are failing when they lose either their footing or something or someone important to them. To know it’s all an integral part of the process.
I wish for my children to dance with the waves and live a fulfilling life, according to their own definition of the term.
Once I heard someone explain that when you meditate and notice your mind has wandered (as minds do), each time you bring it back is like doing one rep. You are strengthening the mental muscles (or neural pathways) that help you return your attention to what you’re trying to focus on. Similarly, each time you lose your footing when a wave comes along and you catch yourself or get up again, you are building strength and resilience. Such are the gifts the waves bring us.
I would not wish for my children first and foremost a life of smooth sailing because it is unrealistic, and I believe they are made for something greater than that. What joy to discover our latent power when we are put to the test and learn that we are far more magnificent than we ever imagined ourselves to be. May they experience the joy and surprise that comes from recognizing their true strength and power. And may this joyful recognition enhance their capacity to imagine and create their future – for manifestation is born of imagination, and the great challenge is to use our imagination wisely. It is a latent superpower, and fear is a gross misuse of it.
We can do so much better than that!
We can cultivate a habit of returning to our private garden of imagination to envision new possibilities and plant new seeds. We can return our attention to that rich and vibrant place when we wander into self-doubt – whether it is generated by external forces or from within. We can resist labeling our experiences as “good” or “bad” and instead adopt an attitude of “It is what it is“ – not as forlorn resignation and apathy but as unflappable resilience and determination. And let us not forget the marvelous buoyancy of gratitude.
That is what I wish to inspire in my children and cultivate in myself.
© 2015 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this blog post, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness mentor whose work is infused with a deep interest in the nature of mind and appreciation of the natural world. She lives on the Hudson River in Upstate New York.
by susantara | Sep 24, 2014 | Teach Our Children Well |
It was an awesome day in kindergarten. I couldn’t hold out any longer. Today was the day to introduce the youngest generation to stone balance art. I didn’t plan to do it. But all of a sudden, the moment felt right, and I seized it. I use humor a lot in my teaching and have a running joke with my students that when they don’t follow our rules and make it difficult for me to do my job, I sometimes start dreaming about becoming a princess or a rock star. This morning, I decided to explain what I mean by “rock star.”
During our Morning Meeting, I turned on the SMART Board, opened my Flickr album of Stone Balance Art, and showed them some of my balances. They started oohing and ahhing and wondered how I was able to balance the rocks so precariously. They were amazed to learn that stones they assumed must have fallen immediately remained balanced for a couple days. Then we sat in a circle on the carpet, and I took out my basket of beach rocks.
I explained that the rock basket is our newest indoor play center and that they can either arrange, stack, or (if they want a real challenge) balance rocks. Then I demonstrated each, beginning with arranging rocks in a spiral pattern – for arranging is about lining up stones to make shapes, patterns, or pictures. I also showed them how to stack the rocks by laying them flat, one on top of the other like a tower. Finally, I modeled how to concentrate on balancing stones on their ends and then ever so carefully placing more stones on top.
A couple basic ground rules to begin with were:
- No throwing rocks.
- Be careful not to knock down anyone’s rocks.
I also explained that rocks will fall, and that’s okay. Just start over again, and it will be even better the second time. When the rocks fall, it means you were trying something difficult and learning what does and doesn’t work. No big deal. I explained that eventually all of the balances I photographed fell down but that pictures make them last forever – and that if they create a balance they are proud of, I will photograph it and put it on our class website.
What I didn’t tell them is that every time you try to balance rocks and they topple before you’re done, you have a golden opportunity to transform failure into resilience. Every time you choose to keep trying, you strengthen your resilience response, and that is one of the most crucial life skills you could develop in any classroom. Failure is permanent only when you stop trying as a result. Learning to fail without giving up is essential practice for life.
When it was playtime at the end of the day, a number of students went straight for the rocks. They got right to work and within minutes approached me with great excitement and asked me to come see what they had made.
I was every bit as excited as they were. After taking a few pictures, I invited them over to my computer to look at what other stone balance artists have created. We explored the portfolio on Michael Grab’s Gravity Glue website, and they were blown away. They seemed so interested and excited, asked questions, and commented on what they liked most about the pictures. There are so many talented members of the international stone balancing community, and I intend to expose my students to a variety of artists and styles, to inspire their creativity.
They returned to their work and called me over a few more times to see and photograph their stone art.
Genuinely thrilled, I complimented their work. They seemed so proud. They were beaming. They worked cooperatively, and everyone was careful not to knock over anyone’s stones.
At dismissal time, as I walked the children to their buses, one boy who had called me over several times to see his stone art looked up at me and announced, “I’m going to miss you.” I told him that I will miss him, too, but we will see each other in the morning. But I understood what he really was trying to say: Thank you for noticing and valuing me. He felt good about himself. Every year during our Open House night, I tell parents that although my job is to teach the Common Core curriculum, my overarching objective is to help their children feel good about themselves and love coming to school. For that little boy, balancing stones served that purpose today.
For some it is art. For others, music or sports. The list goes on. As an early childhood educator, it’s the best feeling in the world to see a child light up with pride and passion. Ideally, my role is to provide the materials and a dose of inspiration and then stand back and and allow their natural curiosity and creativity to lead the way and amaze me. The best days in my classroom are the days when I’m able to create the space and time to be truly amazed.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Aug 31, 2014 | Creativity |
Several people have expressed interest in rock balancing, so I decided to do a separate post on balancing rocks in Narragansett.
My husband and I have very different styles. He is a performer (a professional musician) and doesn’t mind balancing rocks where there are lots of people around to interact with. He tends to create a lot of balances in a short amount of time…and keeps going! And he doesn’t mind working in the intense heat of the midday, summer sun.
I, on the other hand, prefer to retreat to a more private, picturesque spot and make it a meditation, thinking photographically. My balances are smaller and simpler than his, but I find beauty within the simplicity.
It’s all good.
At Scarborough Beach on our first day of vacation, I wandered off to adjacent Black Point to explore the tidal pools and found the perfect, quiet spot to balance rocks.
By the time I returned to the beach, Jack had created more balances than I could count and was attracting a lot of attention. Most everyone who walked by stopped to take pictures. As we began to pack up at the end of the day, a boy who appeared to be about 12 years old came along with his mother, siblings (I’m guessing), and a long stick. I watched him wind up, wondering if he’d dare to follow through, and then – smack! – he knocked down one of Jack’s balances. When his mother realized the artist was close by and had witnessed the act of destruction, she apologized and promised her son would put the rocks back like they were. We had to laugh because that wasn’t possible; it takes skill and practice! We’d always wondered who was responsible for knocking down rock balances, and now we had the answer: Boys with sticks!
The next morning, I got up at dawn to experience and photograph the sunrise over the ocean. Then I headed back to Black Point and found three of my five balances still standing on the rim of a tidal pool.
I walked back to the beach to see which of Jack’s balances lasted through the night.
On my way back to the car, I stopped to fully savor the waves crashing against the rocks and created a few more simple balances. The sound of crickets accompanied the sound of the waves in a soothing, coastal symphony. The rhythmic sounds and aromatic ocean air, along with the feel of the wind against my skin and the rocks in my hands – all within such a magnificent landscape – was a wonderful sensory experience. To awaken so many senses simultaneously is to feel truly alive!
Later in the day, we headed to Point Judith to balance more rocks. Here are a couple of mine:
And here are some of Jack’s. (He created many more balances that were difficult to photograph due to their angle relative to the ocean and sun.)
Looking toward the lighthouse, we noticed some rock balances and before leaving took a walk to check them out. We were astonished to find easily upwards of 500 rock stacks, balances, and arrangements! I couldn’t capture an image that illustrates the sheer number of balances or the vastness of the area. It was nearly overwhelming to be in the midst of it!
The next morning, I woke up bright and early and went to the same spot as the previous morning to view the sunrise. Then I walked along the rock jetty opposite the lighthouse and was drawn to a quiet spot to balance rocks as waves crashed against the jetty and onto the beach. I can say without hyperbole that I’ve never felt more in my element than when balancing rocks at sunrise at the ocean in complete solitude (although kayaking and playing piano under the right circumstances come close). I love how simple balances look with waves crashing around them. Something about that really speaks to me of achieving balance within the “full catastrophe” of life, to borrow a phrase from Jon Kabat-Zinn. I played around with the same base rock and different combinations and angles on top.
Meanwhile, Jack prepared to head to a beach very close to the house where he had balanced lots of rocks the previous day. He found them still standing and noticed kids approaching them to knock them down. However, older people intervened to protect the rocks and thanked him for beautifying their beach with art.
The temporary and vulnerable nature of balanced rocks is part of its appeal, in my opinion, for it mirrors the transitory nature of life. It’s much like a sand mandala that Tibetan Buddhist monks create with great patience, devotion, and attention to detail, only to have it ritualistically destroyed and the sand returned to nature.
Some friends and followers have inquired about how to get started balancing rocks. Balanced stone artist, Peter Juhl, has put together some useful resources, including his book, Center of Gravity: A Guide to the Practice of Rock Balancing, and his Temporary Sculpture website. They are excellent, inspiring starting points.
After publishing this post, I’m heading to my classroom to get set up and am bringing a basket of ocean rocks with me. This year, I intend to introduce my kindergartners to rock balancing, stacking, and arranging!
The photographs in this blog (except for those attributed to other owners) and in my Flickr photostream are available for purchase as prints or cards through my Etsy shop by selecting a “custom print” in whatever size you prefer and indicating either the name of the print or the blog post and order in which it appears.
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
by susantara | Jul 29, 2014 | Spiritual Journey |
I just returned from a truly nourishing and inspiring Mindfulness in Education conference at Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York, thanks to a full scholarship funded by the 1440 Foundation. I will write about the conference itself in one or more separate posts. But for now, I want to share the beauty of the campus – for it, too, was inspiring.
Omega Institute for Holistic Studies is a non-profit educational retreat center located on 200 hilly acres in the Hudson Valley. Inspired by Sufi teacher, Pir Vilayat Inayat Khan, it was founded in 1977 and is devoted to “awakening the best in the human spirit” through workshops, conferences, retreats, and online learning. A stream runs through the center of campus, and there are around 100 buildings, including a main hall, dining hall, cafe, bookstore, sanctuary, wellness center, yoga and movement spaces, cabin-like accommodations, and the Ram Dass Library (shaped like a lotus blossom). The use of cell phones is strongly discouraged in public areas, and I only noticed one person talking on a phone during my three days there.
The Sanctuary was my favorite area – my anchor – to which I returned repeatedly. Here is the entrance.
There is a tiny waterfall about halfway up the the winding stairs that lead to the Sanctuary. The waterfall is surrounded by space that invites creativity. Here are two arrangements that greeted me.
They set my own creative gears in motion.
There also was a basket of colorful, glittery word rocks – an invitation to play!
And play, I did! Although the mosquitoes made it very challenging to balance rocks, I did the best I could.
Here is one very simple balance that remained intact a full day later, despite a morning of torrential downpours. It’s the one that didn’t topple even though the acorn fell from its little perch (perhaps to be closer to the oak leaf?), and the “evolve” rock shifted off center.
Spirit-infused art is all over the place, including some tucked away surprises and others that are impossible to miss. Outside the Sanctuary is a large bell with a mandala composed of moss and other natural objects at the bottom of the stand.
It reminded me of the natural materials (“provocations”) teachers in Reggio Emilia schools put out for their students’ inquiry and exploration.
There are many calming Buddha statues around campus, including this lovely stone planter at the entrance to the garden (with a twin on the other side of the path).
One that’s easier to miss is located amidst pine trees in a small meditation garden at the center of the dorm area where I stayed. I love the interplay of spirit, art, and nature.
Here’s another one that’s tucked away near the heart of campus.
Arrangements such as these remind me to take a deep breath and return to my center. They invite peace and calm.
I was delighted to discover the classical style labyrinth located directly at the center of campus.
Perhaps my favorite image of all was what I found at the center of the labyrinth. It is customary to walk a labyrinth with some sort of purpose in mind. A person often will carry a small object to leave at the center, symbolic of letting go or some kind of intention. I found this collection of offerings fascinating.
Here’s a closer view (that doesn’t show the red lighter resting behind the coffee cup):
Looking at the offerings brought home the realization that nobody is ever alone in his or her suffering. We’re all in this game of life together.
Inspired by the spirit- and nature-infused art at Omega, I returned home enthusiastic about creating calming, centering spaces around our house. By the end of summer, I intend to transform our cluttered little home into a sanctuary. It is my August project. The truth is: We already have all the elements for creating such spaces. It’s a matter of utilizing them – and remembering to notice them in the first place! There’s nothing further to obtain. We just need to notice and enter into the space.
My husband and I have noted that our yard seems to read our minds and give us what we desire. This morning, I went outside to look at the morning glories that are popping up around the yard and found this:
It looked to me like a perfect frame for a mandala – so I ran with that idea!
Pausing for an art break, I realized that most of the items on my to-do list ultimately weren’t that important in the first place. I was putting too much pressure on myself to get things done! That’s part of the beauty of the creative process for me. It pushes a reset button and helps me to simplify my life.
I love being in places that inspire creativity!
© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this website’s author/owner is strictly prohibited.
Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography (susantarameyer.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
