(copyright 2010, Rus VanWestervelt, taken in Finksburg, MD, 2009)

Good evening. It is 7:41 p.m.

This photo that I took last summer of a young grasshopper in apparent meditation brings me some much-needed wisdom this weekend. Opportunities this weekend to practice Zazen, which means sitting meditation, have been few and far between. I don’t blame anyone or anything, nor do I harbor any frustration about the busy weekend. Some days are just more hectic than others.

It is during these hectic times that I remember I can be like the grasshopper, enjoying brief respites on blades of grass, always at the ready to leap to another blade, either for safety or to assist. Between those brief respites, though, I do my best to practice walking zazen, which is maintaining your focus as you move along through your day. This perspective allows me to pause, consider the needs and perspectives of others, and then approach situations with kindness and understanding.

I think the diet is helping me greatly as well. I know it’s only been 12 days, but I do not miss the constant feeling of being full, of the peaks and falls of my blood sugar from chocolate and carbohydrate indulgences. It takes so much energy to digest the wrong foods, and when you throw in the negative feelings of self-esteem as a result of overeating, you create a constant whirling of distractions that make any kind of focus, sitting down or otherwise, nearly impossible.

Perhaps tomorrow I will delve a bit into those meditations, my ever-growing spirituality and devotion to God, and the slow and gradual release of thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail. I know — number three on that list is pretty random. But it all ties together in the best of all ways. I promise. :)

Oh — I wanted to also put in a shameless plug for my new line of notecards. The picture above of the grasshopper is one of 24 photos I’ve made into notecards. Please check out my other website, ravenwater.com,  to see the three sets we’ve put together: Nature, Wildlife, and Ocean. You can also mix and match or submit custom orders. We’re even putting together custom framing orders for those who are interested in larger prints. I appreciate you stopping by and, if you like what you see, sharing the site with some friends who might like them as well.

Love to you all,

Rus

Good evening…It is 9:09 p.m.

Much to share about this day. But first, I must take a moment and remember Emily.

Emily Davis was a student at my school, who was diagnosed with Ewings Sarcoma in February 2002. In the two years that she battled her cancer, she remained selfless and optimistic, immersed in her artwork and in working with others. She died six years ago today. She was 15.

I had the distinct honor to teach Emily’s brother and sister, and it is through them and their parents that I have been touched by Emily’s kindness, love, and sensitivity toward others. Emi will continue to inspire me to do my very best as an educator and as a human being, always remembering how precious life is, and how we must always treasure the moments we have with each other.

I lost my own mother to cancer almost exactly two years to the day when she was diagnosed, and many of you well know that my sister continues her brave battle. The courage and bravery that I have seen from Emily, my mother, and Cindy, as well as from a recent grad and good friend, Amanda, remind me every day that the celebration of our lives is in our hands every moment of every waking hour. We must believe in this moment, in all its beauty, and live it like no other.

Emily, we will never forget you. May we all remember your charitable love and kindness, and may we always share that willingly so that others may be touched by your good will as well.

I also wanted to take a moment to remember a friend and colleague of mine who passed away two weeks ago while shoveling snow.

Dave Barnett (photo by Brian Rizzi), a selfless man who loved his photography and jazz with a passion, left us suddenly and too soon. I include below the tribute that I wrote in his memory. It will be published Monday in the school’s memorial edition of the paper, remembering him and celebrating his life.

A Man Supreme

Part I: Acknowledgment

When the phone rang and brought me news of your death, I could not brace myself enough for the shock I felt, the disbelief that you, Dave, my friend, had died. We came to Centennial together in 2003, ready to take on the challenges we were offered, ready to provide assistance and solution wherever possible. Over the years, our professional discussions turned to other things that mattered just as deeply to us: politics, current events, and, of course, music and photography.

So many discussions, left in the air unfinished. I keep waiting for the exhale, the next thought, the next conversation. But all I am left with is silence.

Part II: Resolution

Our last conversations were, of course, about music and photography. Somehow, our meetings about technology always went in that direction. And sometimes, we skipped over the whole mess regarding the troublesome computers altogether and went straight to the latest photo shoot or the jazz CD we happened to pick up in some obscure, used music store.

Just before winter break, when the first big snow storm gave us an extra few days before the holidays, Dave stopped by my room to talk about his music, and how he was having trouble selecting his favorite jazz CDs among the thousands he owned (Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, along with Miles Davis’ A Kind of Blue, ranks high with me). As he was going through the selection process, each CD he picked up was filled with memories, he said; each provided a short story to his life. The process seemed as celebrating as it did melancholic to him, and I wondered why he was doing this.

He did the same thing with his photography. After a lengthy discussion one morning about his own photo work, he came back to my room with a collection of his note cards he had printed years ago (some of those images are printed on page 1). He asked which was my favorite, and when I selected one, he offered it to me as a gift.

Part III: Pursuance

Perhaps it was always our intention to meet about the latest glitches to crash my computers or cripple my printer, but both of us welcomed the excuse to talk about music and photography along the way. Maybe that’s the ultimate lesson I take from my friendship with him: in the end, it’s about the relationships we make with others that truly matter. I remember that last time we spoke on Friday, just before the two snows fell upon us. We listened to new and old jazz, searching for artists whose names had escaped our memories, but the melodies played on. We shook hands, wished each other gentle days ahead, and parted.

Part IV: Psalm

It’s the least I can do to keep a new melody playing and remember your name, to celebrate a life well lived. We’ll miss you, Dave Barnett. Please know that we are grateful for your kindness, your friendship, and your gentle nature. In every way, you were, and will always be, A Man Supreme.

Goodbye, Dave. Centennial will never be the same without you.

I was blessed this morning to spend it in Mt. Airy with about 15 writers, all there to study the art and craft of memoir writing. It is always inspiring to work with other writers, discuss the craft of writing creative nonfiction, and focus on publishing your work with a larger audience. I draw great strength from that.

May this weekend be a blessed one for each of you. Hug your loved ones, and remember to take a little time for yourself. The world’s dizzying whirl makes it hard for us to remember to do that, from time to time. . . .

Namaste. It is 5:16 a.m.

High winds and blowing snow (we got a couple of inches last night) are delaying schools around the area; my school system, Howard, remains open. I don’t expect us to have a delayed opening. The storm intensifies as you head north, and Howard County is west and a little south of Baltimore.

I wanted to talk a little more about what happened Wednesday at Starbucks and the dangers of zero tolerance when it comes to enforcing the rules. Also, at the end of this post, I am including the letter that I wrote and sent to the local papers, chamber of commerce, and community organizations. I’m not sure what responses, if any, I might get. At least I shared my views on the problems with Towson, hopefully opening up some kind of discussion about the lack of community spirit in our town.

The dangers of zero tolerance. Cases all around the country are reaching the media spotlight. Just a few weeks ago, a 12-year-old student in New York wrote on her desk, with a green marker, “I love my friends Abby and Faith. Lex was here 2/1/10.” She violated the school system’s graffiti and school-defacing policy and was handcuffed in front of her peers and taken to the police station.

Cases like this are becoming more common, as if the rules and regulations designed out of fear have given us permission to act autonomously, without reason, and without due consideration of the circumstances surrounding the event.

Certainly, Starbucks and other small businesses with exclusive parking lots want to protect themselves against people who use their few parking spaces to go elsewhere. They are kind enough to offer convenient and free parking to its customers. The question is, what constitutes a customer? I spent 90 minutes in our Starbucks, eating and drinking with a friend, before walking across the street to the University to meet my students for about the same amount of time. When I came back, both my Jeep and my friend’s car were being towed. We had violated the Private Property statement, warning people who park in the Starbucks lot must patronize the small coffee shop or have your vehicle towed.

That’s exactly what we did, though. Starbucks was our destination, our anchor, our home for this meeting. I planned on making yet another purchase before leaving for home as well (of course, after giving them $100 in cash for a kill fee to drop my Jeep, I wasn’t in the spirit to spend any more money).

This is the problem with Zero Tolerance. It does not take into consideration any aspects of the bigger picture. To places like Starbucks, the message it sends is clear: We do not care about our contributions to the greater Towson area, nor do we care about what happens to you should you decide to leave our coffee shop. The concept of a neighborly place to stop while doing other things about town is destroyed when aggressive efforts are taken to watch who arrives and when, track where they go after leaving the store, and then punish them should they decide to do anything but leave the store altogether.

Nice message, Starbucks. Nice.

When I met with the Starbucks manager after my Jeep was lowered back to the ground, I suggested that, if this is a problem where people are just parking and running elsewhere, or if you notice that a car is parked in the lot for an extended period (I hardly think 90 minutes is extended; I spend three times that amount in most coffee shops when I’m writing) and you cannot find the owner, offer a warning the first time. Let them know that you appreciate their business, but you like the spaces to be “refreshed” if you plan on leaving the cafe for an extended experience in Towson before returning.

The manager said she would pass that along to her supervisor. We’ll see.

Here’s my letter that I sent last night to the local media and community associations. As I mentioned above, if all it does is create a discussion about this topic that may lead to some rethinking and relaxing about zero tolerance when it comes to parking in Towson, great. I don’t want to sit here and just complain. I’d like to see some of the leaders in our area address this concern, as I am sure I am not alone in being victimized by this effort to keep Towson a friendly-free place to spend a few hours. (Mr. Joyner is the editor of the Towson Times.)

Mr. Joyner:

A recent trip to Starbucks on York Road, just across the street from Towson University, turned out to be a costly cup of coffee. After spending about 90 minutes in the cafe with a friend, we walked across Bosley Ave. to meet a few of my students on campus. When we returned about 90 minutes later, both of our cars were being towed away. We each paid about $100 to kill the tow and were grateful that we arrived before they left the parking lot. The message we received, however, was far more significant than to buy our coffee elsewhere.

Unfortunately, Starbucks’ exclusivity in parking rights is not uncommon in Towson. Private Property signs are posted in many parking lots along York and Dulaney Valley roads, stating very clearly that parking is limited to its members, and that those using the parking lots for any other purpose than patronizing that specific business will result in your vehicle being towed. Even in the heart of Towson, if you try to park under the garage between Macy’s and Barnes and Noble to shop at the bookstore, Trader Joe’s, or Pier One Imports, your vehicle will be towed, even if you have some mall shopping to do as well.

The message we get is clear: Towson businesses are concerned only with their own specific customers, and only when they are shopping in their respective stores. Any attempts made by the Towson Business Association to make Towson a more neighborly community will be nothing more than good intentions at best. We park our cars in Towson to stay in our community, spending our money in different establishments that we’d like to keep in town long after this recession subsides. It is unfortunate that we’re being forced to go elsewhere to spend our money and hold on to that community feeling that continues to erode, right in our back yard.

Rus VanWestervelt,
Campus Hills

Good morning. It is 6:01 a.m.
Little time to write this morning (here, at least), as I have been pondering my latest move after having my car nearly towed in Towson last night.
Blessings come in many different ways, and I am grateful for the way things turned out. Still, I’m understanding now, firsthand, why Towson is having so much trouble in building that “community spirit” that has always been lacking.
More on this later.
Have a wonderful morning, everyone. God bless.

It is 6:32 a.m.
HA! Talk about temptation! I think the Red Robin Gods are concerned….As I was writing my post this morning, my “Red Robin Birthday Burger” coupon arrived via email! No More!

Good morning…it is 5:37 a.m.

A good morning indeed. I enter this day with rest, a quiet mind, a happy heart, ready to serve.

A few people have been asking me about my diet, and I thought I’d take a moment to share with you how my eating styles have changed in these first 8 days. But first, I want to offer a quick comment on yesterday’s posts.

I know that the discussion of fear and love is a heavy one, and it really puts some tough questions on the table for me to consider. One of the great things about this journey is that it asks nothing of anyone but me, and the words of Ruiz on fear and love really affirm this. All I can be concerned with is my contributions to any relationship and not anybody else’s — either toward me or toward others. This journey is helping me realize that any correlations with the way I interact with people and an unhealthy lifestyle are solely my responsibility. Any changes begin and end with me and with no one else. That’s an amazing and liberating thing to embrace.

And this is where strength found within, from a higher power, is so celebratory. It has always been within me. It has been right here waiting, all this time, for me to still the waters long enough to realize it. Some may wonder why my journey is not filled with suffering or with trouble, as I have given up several parts of my life that have been at the cornerstone of who I “am.” But there is no suffering in being set free. I think that suffering comes from resistance, from a desire to try to cling to something that you once had that you long for once again. You suffer through a period until what you desire is returned to you. That’s the glorious beauty in all of this. I have not lost; I have found. I have discovered something great that requires no computer, no convenience store, no immediate fix. All I need is already in me, around me. Accessible 24/7.

Today, I celebrate that stillness, that clarity, that realization.

On with the dietary changes!

First, let me tell you what I am no longer eating that was a huge part of my diet.

Fast food in the car. In traveling to and from school every day, the commute can get pretty long, especially on the way home. Before I reach “the point of no return” (routes 29, 70, and then the beltway), I pass by four temptations for quick food. In that two-mile stretch, my inner critic does its best to convince me that I am starving, and that I may get stuck on the beltway, and it may be two hours before I get home, and the pains of starvation will be great while I am stuck in traffic. No More.

Late-night dinners from Red Robin or Five Guys. I get home, and I spend a lot of time with my family, running errands, working on various needs for school, Ravenwater, or Lines of Love. With the family all scattered, my wife and I wouldn’t settle down for dinner until 9:30 or later. There’s something soothing about eating comfort food watching LOST (every night, of course–we own all five seasons) after a long day. No More.

Lunches at school. No offense, really. Mom was big in the world of school food service. Eating a bunch of fries and pizza at 12:30 is not the best way to get through the day. No More.

Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Any time. Anywhere. Bags of Reese’s peanut butter cups, Dove chocolates, Hershey nuggets. It did not matter what kind. The perfect food to eat on the run. No More.

I’ve replaced all of these things with whole grains, plenty of fruits and vegetables throughout the day, soy “yogurt,” Lara bars, raw almonds, Total cereal with soy milk, Maki, and marinated tofu with stir-fried or steamed vegetables. Coffee, tea, water. Gone are the fast-food runs, the late-night burger binges, and the IV-drip of all things chocolate.

I don’t have to tell you how good my body is feeling. Yesterday, I felt a little light-headed from this change after a particularly long stretch of classes. I have to keep reminding myself that this change is huge, and I have to keep grazing on the foods that bring me real energy and strength throughout the day.

Time to head to school. My love to all on this blessed day!

Welcome back. It’s 6:43 p.m. Felt a little light-headed today from the lack of food. It felt good to be so hungry.

I wanted to post that excerpt from Mastery of Love that I find so compelling. Every time I read it, I think about a different relationship or experience in my life that is based on fear. I believe that once I am aware of it, though, I suddenly have the opportunity to change that fear to love.

Awareness is an amazing and powerful thing to help you live a life of love.

Here’s the excerpt (pp. 63-66). I would love to know your thoughts about what Toltec wisdom says about love and fear.

Love is unconditional. Fear is full of conditions. In the track of fear, I love you if you let me control you, if you are good to me, if you fit into the image I make for you. I create an image of the way you should be, and because you are not and never will be the image, I judge you because of that, and find you guilty. Many times I even feel ashamed of you because you are not what I want you to be. If you don’t fit that image I create, you embarrass me, you annoy me, I have no patience at all with you. I am just pretending kindness. In the track of love, there is no if; there are no conditions. I love you for no reason, with no justification. I love you the way you are, and you are free to be the way you are. . . .We don’t have the right to change anyone else, and no one has the right to change us. If we are going to change, it is because we want to change, because we don’t want to suffer any longer.

Most people live their entire lives in the track of fear. They are in a relationship because they feel they have to be. They are in a relationship where they have all those expectations about their partner and about themselves. All that drama and suffering is because we are using the channels of communication that existed before we were born. People judge and are victimized, they gossip about each other, they gossip with their friends, they gossip in a bar. They make their family members hate each other. They accumulate emotional poison, and they send it to their children. “Look at your father, what he did to me. Don’t be like your father. All men are like this; all women are like that.” This is what we do with the people we love so much — with our own children, with our own friends, with our partners.

In the track of fear we have so many conditions, expectations, and obligations that we create a lot of rules just to protect ourselves against emotional pain, when the truth is that there shouldn’t be any rules. These rules affect the quality of the channels of communication between us, because when we are afraid, we lie. If you have the expectation that I have to be a certain way, then I feel the obligation to be that way. The truth is I am not what you want me to be. When I am honest and I am what I am, you are already hurt, you are mad. Then I lie to you, because I am afraid of your judgment. I am afraid you are going to blame me, find me guilty, and punish me. And every time you remember, you punish me again and again and again for the same mistake.

I know it’s not the most upbeat excerpt; however, it really brings to light how unhealthy relationships can be when they are built on a foundation of fear and control. I should have no desire at all to change you, to make you into somebody different. Yet, it’s all I have ever known, all I have ever been taught. It’s all around us, every day. We can’t open a paper, walk down a street, enter a business without witnessing this control. And yet, we continue along, blindly, and participate.

Phew. That’s enough for one day. Yeah? Much to ponder. . . .

Namaste. It is 5:34 a.m.

As I mentioned yesterday, we returned to school for a full day for the first time in weeks. I think the realization that it was our first full day in a while provided more fear and more emotional exhaustion than anything else. If anything, the morning seemed a bit rushed, as this morning does. I’m trying to fit a two-hour routine into 30 minutes of time. Something has to give.

And so suddenly, I resist. I become resentful. It’s not hard to harbor that feeling and let it poision the rest of the day and all I do.

This makes the inner critic very happy. You become disappointed in yourself for not doing what you were able to do last week. You become bitter, and now everything you do is not how you wanted it to be. Your inner critic tells you, “See? You can’t do this. Stop trying to be somebody you are not.”

It’s not hard to allow those feelings to creep in. They are automatic, protecting you from experiencing unconditional love, both for yourself and for the world around you.

I’m reading The Mastery of Love by Don Miguel Ruiz. It is one of the sequel books to his overwhelmingly successful title, The Four Agreements. In short, the author shares with us the wisdom of the Toltecs, ancient wisdom held secret for many years. In the introduction, Ruiz writes:

Toltec knowledge arises from the same essential unity of truth as all the sacred esoteric traditions found around the world. Though it is not a religion, it honors all the spiritual masters who have taught on the earth. While it does embrace spirit, it is most accurately described as a way of life, distinguished by the ready accessibility of happiness and love.

Later today, I will share with you an excerpt about love and fear, for I believe that it is in understanding these two that I can better enter a day without my inner critic controlling what I do, how I think, and how I feel. Fear is the foundation of so much pain, so much self-hurt. We need to abandon fear and embrace love. We need to recognize how fear continues to hold us back from living simply and full of love.

I pray you have a blessed morning filled with love.

Good morning. It is 5:46 a.m.

I open today with a poem, or really a greeting of the day, that brings me strength:

Waking up this morning I smile,
Twenty-four brand new hours are before me.
I vow to live fully in each moment
And to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.
~Thich Nhat Hanh

I open with this today because I must remember that each moment, no matter how busy it may be filled with duties and responsibilities, is filled with opportunities to be more understanding, more charitable, more patient, more loving.

I resume my “normal” schedule today with teaching, a full day of classes for the first time in two weeks. What does that mean? Derailment for me? A return to old habits to “get through” the challenges I face?

For the first time in many years, I do not dread the return of a normal schedule; I welcome it. Give me the day in all its glory and let me live it more genuinely as I was meant to do. Allow me to accept the challenges with a renewed patience and understanding, and allow me to use those challenges as opportunities to provide strength to others as they may need it, now or in the future.

Last night, I started a new project as part of my 40-day journey. I purchased a small piece of basswood and some carving knives, and I have begun the process of carving small Ankh crosses. It is a wonderful activity for meditation and focus, where I am learning the gentle practice of discovering beauty that lies hidden and within. After I finished my first carving session (I will provide pictures in a future post), I don’t believe I have ever felt so calm. Despite the world moving around me at the same speed, filled with the same individuals and the same challenges, my approach and my responses were not filled with emotion, were not reactionary, were not defensive. Instead, there was a rhythm to the evening, a flow that allowed me to be more of an observer than a participant.

I am grateful for the stillness.

Enjoy your day, all 24 hours of it, with eyes of compassion.

(copyright rus vanwestervelt, taken at loch raven reservoir, 02.21.10)

Namaste. It is 10:46 a.m.

Day 5…I’ve been out already this morning, taking some photos around Loch Raven Reservoir (see above). Such a peaceful way to begin my day. While I was standing along Loch Raven Drive taking photos, my feet slipping on the icy road, I was struck with the beauty of each element comprising the natural scene I was suddenly a part of. A flock of Canadian geese stirred just below this island, yet each of them contributed a unique brushstroke of beauty. Suddenly the brittle branches on the island’s trees stood out, each reaching, stretching to the rising sun. The water, surrounding the island like a moat within the boundaries of ever-thickening ice, rippled gently toward the frozen ground. And the variations of blue finding their way subtly across the sky, offering hints and hues of hope for all of us, all of this. Each element contributed its part to this natural beauty, like an impressionist’s painting filled with thousands of tiny brushes of color, each an integral part to the bigger picture.

It was then that I was struck with another idea that nearly stole my breath entirely. I, like the stirring geese and the brittle branches and the ripples of water and the hues of blue, I was another brushstroke of beauty contributing to this landscape.

We don’t see ourselves in this light often, do we? We are made to believe that we are the problem, the intruder, or the conquerer. We are told very early on that we leave a footprint, we damage the earth, we endanger wildlife, we cause global ruin. We very rarely hear that we are a part of nature itself, and we have every right to live among the geese and the fish and the elk, to be a part of the beautiful landscapes that we try so desperately to preserve. We are no different than the branches that sway and reach and soon blossom in beauty. Yet, we have been told otherwise all our lives.

My life, as is yours, is a part of something natural and wonderful. Yet, we get so caught up in the emotional whirls of social networking and the opinions of others that we lose sight of our simple, natural existence. No goose or tree or cold, rippling waters ever told us we were insignificant, unworthy, or  stupid.

Our inner critics have been looping a soundtrack of negativity for most of our lives (created solely by other individuals that we’ve allowed ourselves to believe) to keep us from this simple fact: we matter in the natural world. We matter to ourselves, and we have the inherent right to stand along the shores of any land and realize the beauty we contribute to the bigger picture.

I invite you today to turn off the inner critic. Recognize the beauty within that transcends the critical voices of past and present, and see yourself in a brand new light.

With love and blessings, rus