by susantara | Oct 27, 2018 | Creativity, Teach Our Children Well |
Well, whaddaya know? I’m teaching again. Thought I’d never do it. Even vowed I’d never do it again. But over the summer, one of my oldest and dearest friends planted a seed in my mind. He insisted, “Susan, you might not think so, but you are a TEACHER.” It’s not what I wanted to hear. I argued that I’m excited about the more holistic direction I’m taking with clutter coaching, Reiki, feng shui, and mindfulness mentoring. I’m done with teaching. Then he suggested that I at least consider working with young children as a menu item. I listened to what he had to say. After we hung up, there was a funny feeling inside me that made me think he might be right, even though I convinced myself otherwise for quite some time.
A few weeks later, that seed was watered by an intriguing job post another friend sent along that made me light up when I read it. I went straight to the computer and composed a cover letter that essentially wrote itself, and sent it off the next day.
To make a long story short, I got the job and am running a preschool program at our local library! I’m glad my two friends acted on their intuition because it seems to be a perfect fit. It’s a part-time position that allows me to do what I loved most about teaching: Helping children to love learning and books and to feel good about themselves. Incorporating lots of literature-based art and nature projects that build kindergarten readiness skills across the curriculum.
The elements I disliked about public school education don’t apply to this job. I’m not the only adult in the room and have LOTS of assistance because the parents/grandparents/caregivers stay for the program! And there’s no formal assessment. As a kindergarten teacher, it broke my heart to see my students’ self-esteem suffer because they weren’t ready for the “new” kindergarten expectations. I jumped on the library position because it would allow me to: 1) prepare children for kindergarten in developmentally appropriate ways, and 2) model skills and activities to the adults in their lives, who can do so much at home to support their child’s learning.
I love that I can be a positive influence in the lives of young children and families again, in a much more supported way than when I was a public school kindergarten teacher. It’s wonderful to stick a toe back into the world of early childhood education, in a way that allows me to focus on my other interests, as well.
The moral? If your intuition nudges you to deliver a message to someone, DO IT! Don’t think it’s silly and shrug it off. The Universe might need you to help plant a seed that will make a positive difference in their life. It might be exactly what they need to hear to help a new path unfold.
In celebration of my return to working with “the littles” and my favorite season, here’s an activity inspired by the children’s picture book, Leaf Man, in which all the illustrations are made from autumn leaves. It’s also inspired by my favorite early childhood educator/blogger, Sally Haughey of Fairy Dust Teaching. A picture on one of Sally’s blog posts caught my eye, and I developed it into a literature-based art and science activity I did with my preschoolers this week. It would work with older children, too. (I even had fun with it on my own, as you might be able to tell from these pictures!)
How to Make Leaf-Man Inspired Nature Portraits
Materials:
- A few wooden frames (without glass; I used 8×10, 11×14, and 5×7)
- Pieces of cardboard, fabric, or paper in natural skin tones
- Assortments of natural objects, such as:
- A variety of autumn leaves
- Pinecones of different shapes
- Acorn tops and acorns (it’s nice to include some very tiny acorns still stuck inside their top, too)
- Short pieces of sticks (only an inch or two long)
- Feathers
- Shells
- Small stones
- Pieces of hazelnut shells
- Maple seed wings (“helicopters”)
- Indian corn kernels
- Naturally dyed wool
Procedure:
Arrange each category of natural objects into its own container, and place them so they are within reach of the children as they work.
Each child gets a frame with some kind of backing paper or fabric canvas underneath it. Simply allow them to create pictures of people, animals, trees, etc. using the natural materials in different arrangements.
This is an opportunity to use directional words (i.e. above, below, next to) and talk about body parts, colors, size, numbers of parts, etc. It’s also an invitation to observe and identify natural objects and to discuss the changes trees go through.
Allow them freedom of creativity!
They might even want to take a little break and observe how maple wings, feathers, and different kinds of leaves twirl, tumble, and otherwise make their way to the ground.
Here are some Nature Portraits my three- and four-year-old students made:
© 2018 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher 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 | May 18, 2018 | Mindfulness |
It’s true: Everything is impermanent. Even seasons of inertia. Thank goodness.
A couple days ago, I finally had my first inspired idea after returning from the seven-day silent mindfulness meditation retreat. It happened without trying, and it felt like it came from a deep place. So now, instead of just framing photography for my upcoming exhibit, I’m painting the frames, too, for a color-coordinated, shabby chic look. It makes a big difference and feels so much more “me.” I’m psyched.
This morning, more inspiration came. I think it’s back. It seemed to come in response to getting carried away by a wave of emotion last night. One step back, two steps forward.
I’ve been doing well embodying mindfulness since the retreat. However, now my son is home from college and has transportation issues. We live in the country, and he can’t get a summer job without reliable transportation. All he has is a bike, which he’s determined to ride. However, the roads around here aren’t safe for bikers, especially when it gets dark, and to make a long story short, I ended up getting hooked by sadness last night. I felt bad about not being able to offer him more than I can, and then sadness morphed into regret for all the mistakes I’ve made in my life that resulted in him not having a car to drive this summer.
Every so often, I acknowledged this is regret and noticed where I felt it in my body. And then I got hooked again. Regret is my seductive teacher. It keeps returning until I’ve learned what it has to teach me and don’t need it anymore.
But everything is impermanent. Even challenging emotions. This morning, I woke up feeling better. During my walk, I recognized: Regret is disempowering. Come back to the present.
Then I noticed the trees and the new leaves they’re putting out, still a tender, bright shade of chartreuse. I suspect trees don’t regret last year’s foliage or any previous year’s. That’s in the past. Now they are starting fresh with a new generation of leaves. New determination to grow. All that matters now is the leaves that are emerging this year that can capture sunlight and help the tree to grow.
Then it occurred to me that I might want to go home and get my camera because the trees were showing me something about my own nature. On the way back to my car, I noticed an oak tree that hadn’t let go of all of last year‘s leaves. They are brown, papery, and shriveled and such a contrast to the tender, bright, new leaves. I considered the tree holding on to what no longer serves it a rather unappealing quality – and a contemplative image I wanted to capture. So home I went, to get my camera.
When I returned with my camera and started photographing oak and maple trees, I felt completely back in my element. Waiting for the wind to quiet down is a great opportunity to embody presence, and this is what photography has been for me all along: an invitation to presence. Presence when the conditions are right and presence while waiting for the sun to go behind or emerge from a cloud or for the wind to calm down. Photography as a portal to presence. It’s a significant part of my spiritual practice.
I don’t need my camera to embody presence. But I do tend to pause and linger a little longer while waiting for conditions to be more favorable for capturing the image my heart desires that somehow speaks to me. And that right there is the way I want to live my life. It’s the answer to the koan I brought back from retreat about goals and contentment.
When conditions aren’t exactly the way I want them to be, I can focus on being present to and allowing what is. Then, when conditions are right, I can put all that much more presence into the photography. And if the conditions don’t present themselves, then I haven’t wasted my time because I’ve embodied presence and stillness and can walk along like that until the next inspiration arrives! In the meantime, I’m not tempted to put my energy into anything that distracts me from what feels right because I already feel so content and peaceful.
Without even trying, I returned home with this blog post. I didn’t have a goal to write today, but it arose from the stillness.
There’s a season for putting out bright, shiny new leaves – new possibilities for growth. There’s a season for full, deep green leaves collecting maximum sunlight for the growth part of the cycle. There’s a season for letting go of leaves because it’s not time for that anymore, and they’re not needed. And there’s a season for rest and reflection. Each of these seasons is impermanent and important, and wherever we are in the cycle, may we let it be as it is. May we trust in the seasons of our lives and not try to fill them with compulsive activity. In presence and stillness, growth comes without us needing to try so hard.
I bow to the Buddha on my meditation altar. I bow to the leaves in the trees through which Source energy reveals itself. I bow to all my teachers, including unpleasant emotions that carry me away and eventually dissolve back into stillness. I bow to it all.
© 2018 Susan Meyer. All rights reserved. To use any or all of this article, include this exactly: Susan Meyer (SusanTaraMeyer.com) is a photographer, writer, clutter coach, feng shui consultant, and mindfulness teacher 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 | Nov 7, 2015 | Self-Care Practices |
Today I want to share with you a powerful “letting go” practice that came to me a couple days ago. It articulates the inner significance of what is going on in nature at this time of year and was inspired by a “Days of November” meditation shared by psychic medium extraordinaire, Adam Bernstein. When I read through the meditation earlier this week, it resonated deeply. It begins with visualizing yourself sitting next to a river as leaves fall from the trees and into the water. As you watch the leaves spiral downward and float away on the river, think of what you want to fall away in your own life. Adam’s visualization continues, focusing on how more sunlight can shine through now that the trees are bare. What we couldn’t see before (when the leaves obstructed our view) is now revealed, and light is able to reach places that had been in darkness under the leafy trees. It is an exquisite meditation that continues on from there.
After reading through the meditation, my first inclination was to record it word for word so I could do it without having to recall the details or open my eyes to read it. And I’m going to do that. But first, I was inspired to create my own ritual based on part of the meditation. The inspiration came while kayaking on the river during our unseasonably warm weather this week. When I noticed flotillas of fallen leaves drifting by, I knew exactly what to do.
I found a small basket and filled it with a piece of silk and some fallen leaves I had picked up from the ground during recent walks. These were leaves that stopped me in my tracks because their colors were so vibrant! I meant to press and preserve them but never got around to it because it slipped my mind, and they became curled and dry and past the pressing stage. I also have a collection of pressed leaves from last year that I’ve been holding on to even though their colors have faded. I added a few of them to the basket, as well. The idea of using leaves that I found wonderful at first but then faded appealed to me. But really, any leaves would do.
The next morning, the air was warm, and the sky was filled with puffy clouds. The reflection on the river looked like a river of clouds, and the conditions felt perfect for doing my “river of leaves” meditation. I brought my basket of carefully selected leaves to the dock, along with my yoga mat and meditation cushion, and set an intention to release one leaf at a time into the river while contemplating what it represents in my life. What am I ready to let go of and leave behind? Then I’d watch the leaf float away, carried along by the river’s flow.
As I released the leaves into the river, a parade of solitary leaves and leaf flotillas drifted by. It made me feel that I was in good company and that the time was right to let go of what no longer serves a constructive purpose. Instead of focusing on letting go of particular people, things, or circumstances, I turned my attention toward the unhealthy attachments, attitudes, illusions, programming, patterns, etc. that get in the way of my inner peace and freedom – because that’s what attracts unhealthy energy into my life in the first place.
For instance, the first leaf I let go of represented fear. I watched the “fear” leaf float away gently, with an attitude of honoring it – for it was with me for a long time and initially must have served some kind of well intentioned (albeit misguided) purpose. And surely there is room for healthy fear in my life, such as fear as an intuitive signal that something is wrong. But allowing fear to remain in the driver’s seat is what I wanted to let go of. It was satisfying to watch it float away from me, and as I did, I imagined how my life would feel different without it. I really experienced the new vibration and felt much lighter and more empowered – for I was acknowledging and accepting my own responsibility in authoring my life.
I also let go of a consciousness of lack, certain illusions that have clouded my thinking, making my happiness dependent on any person or condition, placing more importance on the approval and advice of others than on my own intuition and wisdom, and shame about all of the above. Release it all with love, and feel what it’s like to be unencumbered by them. Appreciate how light it feels to be free of them!
As I watched each leaf float away, I reflected on how my compassion has grown as a result of my choices and experiences. I noticed that gratitude was becoming part of this process.
My spiritual director recently recommended a breathing practice that helps to fill the empty hole inside me with what I desire and feel is lacking in my life so I won’t try to get it from others. This felt like an important exercise to complement the letting go exercise. It seemed that letting go, being grateful, and filling the holes were all important parts of the overall process, encompassing past, present, and future.
I didn’t release the next leaf until it really felt complete with the previous one. Some I watched float away until they were out of sight. As they floated away, I felt them lose their hold on me and experienced a greater sense of inner freedom and joy. With distance and time, the river of life really does pull things away from us, and helps us get over our attachments and move on.
In preparation for the activity, I put leaves in my basket until I felt I had the right number. Also, it occurred to me that you could write a word or phrase on each leaf to express what you’re letting go of. Or you could just write it on your heart, as I did.
While releasing the leaves into the river, I thought of my friend, Jayne, who traveled throughout Asia after undergoing treatment for breast cancer. She was in Thailand during the Loi Krathong festival during which people practice letting go by releasing floating lanterns into the sky and launching beautiful handmade flower boats into a body of water. As she and her husband let one go together, they focused on releasing “bad health juju as well as any ill feelings towards anyone” and inviting well wishes for the future. She explained, “It was cathartic and a beautiful moment we shared putting the past behind and creating space for something new!”
That is a perfect way to describe how it felt to release leaves into the river a couple mornings ago. I love to be in sync with and inspired by the cycles the natural world!
© 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 | Oct 24, 2015 | Spiritual Journey |
As I write, there is still a lot of color left on the trees, although we are past peak. There are also plenty of leaves piling up on the ground so that when I walk on my favorite trails, my footsteps are noisy and crunchy.
Outside my window, the silver maple tree that looms over the house is sending many yellow leaves twirling and spinning elegantly to the ground. There’s barely even a breeze, so it must be the day the tree decided it’s time to let go.
It’s as if groups of leaves made a pact to fall at the same time: Ready, set, go! They make me smile because they look so playful. It’s their Big Fall, and they are twirling all the way down. Well, some are. Others just plunge down. But the twirlers and the spinners make me smile. If I were a leaf, I would want to do as much twirling as possible during my brief descent to the ground. I’d want my journey to be as artful, authentic, and inspiring as possible, like the plastic bag scene from American Beauty. Do it with gusto. Dance with the wind!
Yesterday, I had my morning all planned out. Then the sun emerged, and I had a feeling that the trees near the main village intersection would be particularly enchanting with the mid-morning sunlight shining through. If I were to adhere to my schedule and visit the trees later, the angle of sunlight would be different. Or clouds might roll in. If the leaves weren’t still brilliantly aflame by the time I arrived, I could try again tomorrow.
However, this time of year beckons us to take action now! Don’t put it off. Between today and tomorrow – or even now and an hour from now – a gust of wind could come along and bring all the leaves to the ground. You can’t assume the leaves will still be on the trees tomorrow or in an hour.
The dramatic, autumn foliage inspires me to take immediate action. Don’t just make lists and think about what to do. It’s time to actually engage that energy. What do you feel drawn to do right now? What impulse is arising from deep inside of you? Don’t ignore it! Write that letter. Send that email. Make that phone call. Go out for that drive. Follow up on that lead. Make a meal for that family, friend, or relative. Say those words you know you’d regret not saying if one of you were to die today. Do it! You never know when it will be your last chance or when following your intuition will open a door or build a bridge that would not have manifested if you had ignored it.
But that’s not all. Colorful, deciduous trees at this time of year also offer another lesson.
Many times this month, I’ve contemplated what the brilliant red, orange, and yellow foliage means to a tree. Leaves turn such vibrant colors as the tree begins its process of shutting down and releasing them, for they are no longer useful. Summer’s green leaves gathered sunlight like many thousands of cells in solar panels and were the means by which the tree received its energy for this year’s growth. But there’s a rhythm to trees and to the year. Now is the time when trees need to let go of all the leaves that provided them with energy and nourishment. For trees, now is not time to accumulate energy and grow. It’s time be wise about conserving energy and let go.
Here’s a small personal example: I’m taking an online “money manifesting” course because I realize that, as I embark on a new venture, I need to work on my attitude toward money and raise my “money vibration” before I can go any further. Part of the process is visualizing a new money persona and how it would feel to inhabit that persona. During meditation one morning, I noticed all the clutter was cleared out of the house of my “Thriving Creative” persona. Her living space was spacious and uncluttered, and it felt good to be there. I knew instantly that I needed to let go of a lot of stuff, beginning with several crates of teaching books that were taking up space in the living room. Instead of just knowing I need to get rid of stuff (and I’ve known for a long time), this time I had the energy and motivation to actually do it. I researched best methods of selling books and then followed through – and sold virtually all the books within 24 hours! At the same time, I cleared some space and made some money! So I’m working on letting go of both personal possessions and outdated beliefs and attitudes about money and am discovering that letting go of old stuff opens me up to a new flow of energy. Right now it might look barren and unimpressive, but I’m making preparations for future action and growth! Getting rid of books is only the beginning.
Soon, the deciduous trees in the Northeast will let go of all their leaves. We may feel downhearted when the brilliantly colored landscape fades to brown and gray, and the bare trees herald another long winter. But the greater cycle is about needing to shed what’s no longer useful to prepare for future growth. Trees will grow new leaves in the spring following a period of rest and reflection. We need to keep the greater cycle in mind and realize that we can’t lose anything that is integral to our wholeness. Anything that can be lost isn’t essential at this time or is part of a larger cycle that we might not even be aware of. There’s a universal rhythm we are part of, and what you think will kill you (i.e. letting go of what used to nourish you) is just part of the broader cycle of letting go, resting, being reborn or rejuvenated, and growing. So relax. It’s all good.
We have everything we need for this human journey inside of us, including the capacity to manufacture the strength and qualities we need when we need them. Just as a tree doesn’t die when it sheds its leaves, we are more resilient than we may believe ourselves to be. Every now and then, it’s beneficial to take inventory of our lives and let go of what no longer serves our highest purpose or surrender to the losses that life imposes on us. What looks like a mighty wind stealing the leaves from a tree is part of a greater process in which loss serves a purpose. Fall is a perfect time to follow nature’s lead and ask: What am I being called to let go of in my life? What can I let go of that is no longer necessary or useful? What losses am I being called to surrender to?
A couple weeks ago, I rode a storm all the way home from the grocery store. As I pulled in the driveway, a powerful gust of wind brought down a flurry of leaves from trees lining the back yard. Sometimes it’s a gentle process –a few leaves coming down over the course of weeks, twirling their way down. Other times, a strong gust comes along (in the form of either great motivation or external circumstances acting upon us) and removes everything we need to let go of. This great gust might throw us off balance and not be as pleasant as the gentle wind. It might even feel overwhelming! But either way, there are times when life calls or forces us to let go. That’s one of autumn’s greatest gifts. We can come to know both the gentle and gale force winds as grace operating in our lives and serving a greater cycle – which we may or may not yet be able to identify or understand.
© 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 | Nov 2, 2013 | Engaging the Magic, Mindfulness |
“Give us our daily miracle. And forgive us if we are not always capable of recognizing it.” -Paulo Coelho, Manuscript Found in Accra
Do you realize how close you are to a miracle?
I truly believe that every day offers us a miracle, a magic moment that changes everything, awakens us, and offers new possibilities.
Paulo Coelho writes a lot about such moments, and in Manuscript Found in Accra, he defines a miracle as “…something that suddenly fills our hearts with Love.”
I search for miracles every day. They are easy to miss. But missing them doesn’t mean they never happened.
Perhaps the miracle was to be found in the impulse ignored to turn in a certain direction or to strike up a conversation with a certain person. Perhaps we were too tired, in too much of a hurry, or preoccupied with our own thoughts and dramas.
Do you remember the 3D stereogram images that were popular about 20 years ago? You stare at the two-dimensional, patterned image with the right focus and all of a sudden enter into a three-dimensional image that, until then, was impossible to perceive. That’s how it can be with magic moments. With a little practice, you might just find your heart steeped in gratitude most of the time. With gratitude, beauty (love) is more inclined to reveal itself, and you can find it just about anywhere.
On a rainy day, the miracle might be found in the rippled puddle that you normally would pass by without taking notice. That’s where I found it today, during the short walk to my car at the end of the work day.
Sometimes you will discover it if you turn around and look behind you, crouch down close to the ground, slow down, step off the trail, take in the details of a single thing, or listen wholeheartedly to the person next to you.
If you tune in to the miracle channel, you will find them everywhere and be transformed. At least that’s been my experience.
Yesterday morning was dark and dreary. By the time I arrived at work, there wasn’t so much as a hint of the sun, which has been rising a little later every morning. Witnessing the sunrise makes a substantial difference in the quality of my day. Filling with light first thing in the morning is a powerful way to start a day (although when the sun doesn’t shine, we can go within and make our own light). By the time I got home from work, however, the sun was shining, and I took a walk with my husband. As we walked, I stopped to photograph landscapes and trees I’d photographed numerous times before. I stopped yet again, knowing they are always a little different.
After snapping a few shots, I commented to my husband that I still hadn’t encountered the magic moment of the day. But I knew I would. And I did. I’m a sucker for sunlit leaves, and the auburn-toned oak leaves seemed to be on fire with grace around a birch tree. It was their moment to shine, and I got to witness it.
Sometimes I feel called by a tree or flower, and when I approach it, it gives me an offering. I feel its energy and my interconnection with it. I might look at it from different angles, until love bursts through.
Sometimes one leaf playing with sunlight at just the right angle can make all the difference in the world if it speaks to your soul. I waited for 15 minutes for the sun to emerge from behind the clouds in order to capture the image below, which had revealed itself briefly moments before the clouds covered the sun.
Over the weekend, I watched part of Eckhart Tolle’s June 2012 retreat at Omega Institute and was struck by something he said about when he lived in London after going through a profound shift in consciousness. After the shift, he felt so peaceful and perceived everything around him as so lovely, though he didn’t know why. A Zen monk told him that, “Zen is really about the cessation of the thinking mind,” and it occurred to Eckhart that since the shift, he hadn’t been thinking as much; there were “vast spaces of no thought, of just perception.” When Eckhart was finding the world so intensely beautiful, he was not thinking. He was liberated from the tyranny of thought.
That is something I can really relate to these days. When I go outside, I can’t help but be amazed and astonished at the beauty in the natural world. It is everywhere!
Even walking from my car to my classroom in the morning, I am dazzled by leaves and berries clinging to trees, reflections in puddles, birds in flight. Every little thing seems to be filled with incredible energy and beauty. It feels so peaceful and good. And during those moments, there is an absence of thought. Love enters in.
I live for those moments.
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© Susan Meyer and River Bliss Photography, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, including all text and photos, without express and written permission from this blog’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 (www.riverblissed.blogspot.com) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
