Human to Human

Today I woke at 7:20 a.m. The sun had already risen and was beginning to bend through my bedroom window. The birds were well into their chirping morning conversations. I was relieved that it was not the middle of the night.

You see, having returned from New Zealand last week, my body is still trying to adjust to the time zone here. It is 18 hours different. It’s easier on my brain to think 6 hours different and disregard the day ahead part. Or to not think of the time shift at all.

During the day, I’ve been fine. Nap ready at some point in the afternoon. But that is typically true for me. Ten minutes does wonders for me.

The nights have been more challenging. On Saturday it was falling asleep at 11:45 pm, but waking up at 12:15 (sounds like a good Kiwi nap, right) and being up for three hours. The night before it was not being able to get to sleep until well past 2:00 am.

The joy this morning, the relief, was that I’d slept through the night. A full eight hours. An occurrence that signals that I’m now back. That I might find my way back to reliable sleep and rest, accompanied by more fully energized days.

There is plenty of simple joy in the experience of being in New Zealand. There is also simple joy of a night’s rest. And there are times when it’s just a simple joy that is needed. Good to remind myself of that through the most basic of experiences, a good night’s rest.

The stones come from a beach in Napier, New Zealand. The candle, as you can see, is a simple tea candle. It burns for about five hours. The piece of wood is drift wood, from an 2010 trip to Kaikoura on NZ’s South Island west coast.

This morning, they are placed on my kitchen counter. The backdrop is regular life. Car keys. Dish towels hanging form the oven handle. A package of buns for sandwiches later today. Regular life meets symbolic artifacts.

There are times when I, and I believe most of us, need fewer words and more ritual energy. I’m in one of those times. Yes, the stones are Zen like. I have a set. My son has a similar set to mark our New Zealand trip together. We collected them from the beach. The candle is stilling to me. A simple fire to gather around, and act that feels very instinctive. It is a call to stillness. To the integration of memory, current experience, and perhaps some future intent.

For the moment, however, this combination is enough to remind me of, and enjoy, a stillness as I weave my way through many emails, projects, and commitments that could occupy many uninterrupted days. That’s what happens after long trips. Stones and candles often help me to do just this.

 

 

I suppose this is a good followup to yesterday’s picture of balanced stones. This is a larger stone I balanced this week, maybe 12 inches tall on an outcropping of rocks at Scorching Bay, looking into the Wellington Harbour.

It’s great to balance these rocks. Perhaps because to balance the outer requires a balance on the inner. I enjoy this as a kind of practice. Artful, and centering.

And, then again, balance can be a bit over-rated also. Perhaps over-used. Over-valued. Balance often shows up as an invocation to restore right relations between work and life. Good. Without being too cute about it, it is the out of balance that is often the edges that are most fruitful for many of us. Not necessarily in the moment. But with the help of some friends, or even, dare I say, alone, that our personages evolve. We grow. We learn not to fear. We learn to adapt a perspective of continually sensing and reorienting.

Regardless, it is good to keep it open, eh. Not to fixed in any one place. I find this to be true.

 

It was Chris Corrigan that first got me into balancing stones. Probably seven years ago. Finding ways for the seemingly tiniest point of a stone to balance in the most unsuspecting of places. What was most fun about it was the gleam in Chris’ eye. He was having fun. He was creating art. He was offering art.

I’ve been doing a lot of balancing stones since then. The neighbor kids sometimes ask if I’ll do more in the front parking lot. My kids expect me to do it whether on a beach or on a hike. Like, Chris, I too, love the art.

This particular pictures is from a beach in Napier, on New Zealand’s east coast. It was a sunny day, earlier this week. My son and I had 45 minutes on this beach, waiting for an appointment. It’s a bit hard to tell the scale of this. Most of the stones were 5-8 inches tall. I mixed in a few shells and driftwood. That’s the Pacific in the background. Glorious and beautiful white crested turquoise waves.

I suppose if I wanted to extract principle, one that would be important to me is using what is in front of me. This was not a difficult collection of stones to find. They were everywhere. The log was placed there and, who knows, might be removed by the coming tide. That points to a second principle. Be willing to let it go. I must admit that I hoped it would remain for a long time, but I don’t really know that. Maybe it brought a momentary appreciation from a passer by — “well, look at that!”

The gleam, whether from the observer or the creator, makes the moment.