Loose Leaf Notes

Practice: The customary, habitual, or expected procedure or way of doing of something. To perform (an activity) or exercise (a skill) repeatedly or regularly in order to improve or maintain one’s proficiency.  – Oxford dictionary

The word “practice” gets me running in the opposite direction. I don’t want to sign up. But I do have an everyday practice. I practice being with what is. I like to see what I find myself doing.

My practice is like quantum physics. Mostly empty space? Wave or particle?  Most days are like Quantum foam, the basic stuff of the universe that has the potential of becoming either wave or particle depending on the observer/creator.

Cash in your gold / Don’t just spin it /Don’t reinvent the wheel…

My practice is tuning into the inner life, listening for poetry, distilling life down and getting more comfortable with not superimposing myself onto it too much. In fact, this kind of living practice is a lot like writing a poem.

Wait for thoughts / Don’t put them there… Wait for poems that fit like skin / dream them from a distance / then write them close in…

Being so pared down isn’t always comfortable. It can trigger early childhood wounds that want tending. But, for me, the discomfort always passes and insight is something I’m always grateful for.

Sun and moon. Breakfast and dinner. The arts. I keep in mind not to over-intellectualize. I keep it simple but don’t oversimplify. Curiosity is important. Beauty is salve.

Take the unplanned route / Adjust your mirror / Follow the meter…  

In my experience, practices and platitudes that have once served have tended to fall away over time. The idea of them now exhausts me. I like to play hooky and see what happens.

These days, it works best for me to see what a new day or a new year brings rather than try to dictate it. Rising to what the moment calls for, that is the practice I’m interested in.

__________Colleen Redman – New Year’s Day 2024