Moss on the North Side

‘A home with moss growing is a happy home.’  —Marth’s mother.

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photo courtesy of pixabay

Moss grows on the north side of our city home and also the cabin on the hill.  Green loveliness even in winter months, if it stays mild as it has this season.  Other markers of a happy home?  A well-swept front porch. Rooms that receive natural light. The scent of cinnamon. A tea kettle in frequent use.

And the happy domicile equivalent of the body?  You’d be surprised.  Quiet is a good indicator.  I’m referring to the sounds of walking, climbing and descending stairs, in-and-out-of-chairs.

As an Alexander Technique teacher, I’ve been astonished at how much I rely on my ears to assess a student’s use.  Certainly the auditory sense was front-and-center as a voice teacher, but I had no idea the ears would be so important to my AT teaching as well.

Sweep the porch of your Body/Mind.  Receive light and love with the open window of your heart. Surround yourself with a pleasing scent. Sip tea. No need to seek quiet as a goal. That would be what FM called ‘end-gaining.’ AT teacher, Pedro de Alcantara, has this to say about end-gaining: ‘to go directly for an end (a goal) causes a misuse of the self which makes the end (goal) unattainable.’ (quote from Indirect Procedures: A Musician’s Guide to the Alexander Technique)

Peace and quiet with soft moss underfoot is my wish for you this fine day, both in your body-home, which the Elizabethans called the ‘bone house,’  and in your shelter-home.

 

 

 

 

Waiting

sun-157126_640Advent.  The waiting time.  Days shorten, and long evenings are lit by neighborhood displays, crackling fires, and candles. I write this on a dark afternoon promising early nightfall.  Gray clouds are scudding overhead, brown leaves swirling in the wind.

We wait.  We’ve been waiting for centuries.  Waiting for hope, for deliverance, for better days, for wars to cease, for new life to be born, for the light to return.

Consider what waiting might mean for you this season.  The lines will be long, the traffic heavy, the duties many. We can resort to impatience, succumb to an agitated mind, or we can simply abide, tarry, linger.

May you linger, perhaps aimlessly delay with a click on this Advent hymn:  O Come, O Come Emmanuel.  Pausing, even ever-so-briefly, could be the very best gift of the season.