Gudrun Mouw Posts

I sometimes forget that transformation is a creative process which often moves in surprising directions. How we interpret life’s circumstances can either overwhelm or enhance the flow of creativity.

To honor the truth and to transform suffering into life affirming behavior, is a natural, creative path. Nevertheless, the process of moving from suffering to transformation can seem mysterious, even impossible at times.

Today, winter light pulled me outside, reluctantly at first. Following the outline of long forest shadows to the garden fence, I found myself inside an oblong of December sunlight, more precious because its warmth is subtle. Repeated circumambulation became a walking meditation, beyond the pain of suffering faces, the pain of loss. Light became a vehicle for transformation.

That night I dreamed I was learning how to play the violin, meaning I thought, a creative need was calling out to me. I got up to meditate. Afterwards, I turned on the Tranquility Music Channel and practiced Hatha Yoga asanas, beginning with a traditional sequence but soon continuing with positions that occurred intuitively and spontaneously.

Insight at last; I thanked powers beyond my comprehension for assistance I had not even known to ask for on this anniversary of my mother’s death seventeen years ago.

 

December 7, 2017

Gudrun Mouw aka Krishnaprema Jyothi (c)

Journal Entry Personal Updates

I see you standing on sand,
during one of our desert trips,
among tiny spring blooms and shrubs,
wearing your inevitable hat,
a long, thick braid hanging down your well-matched

shirt and belted pants. I have lit candle after candle
since you passed, holding my photo of you,
sending you wishes on this unexpected journey,
which you had not anticipated when last we talked

only a few days ago. I was happy you remembered
our friendship, despite the winter threats
of which you accused yourself. May you be free.
May you have ease beyond that beyond
about which we so often wondered.

 

 

Gudrun Mouw (c)

A Poem

I was intrigued by the article, The Historic Road That Never Was in the fall News from Native California magazine. It initially piqued my interest, because of where I live. There is a monument along a mission dirt trail nearby claiming to be a portion of the old mission days, “Historic Road of the El Camino Real.”

Mission time accounts say there was no marked “Camino Real” road (Spanish for ‘royal road’) on any early, historical map that connected the currently popularized, commercialized and much visited 21 California missions. There was only a trail that connected a few points.

There were numerous cultural, deflecting, romanticizing and, thereby, capitalizing reasons for the El Camino Real myth to arise, according to several of the early writers. This article was an eye opener for me, and I was very moved by a comment made by Marcus Lopez, “Let’s celebrate Indigenous peoples by telling the truth….”

 

October 31, 1017
Gudrun Mouw (c)

Personal Updates

After Fires from Three Directions

 

Past red-orange retardant,
wind diminished, intuition says:
return to Santa Barbara County
do not be overwhelmed
by unacknowledged fear.

I enter our home filled with a surfeit
of noise and hear…a man’s voice,
the drop of lumber, whirr of automatic tools,
the closing and opening of doors,
his music.

Heat continues, and no rain comes down
in that ancient October way. Who will refuse to see
earth’s change, or the need to investigate
how we lead our lives? May we listen well
and learn from nature’s plea.

 

Gudrun Mouw (c)
October 9, 2017

A Poem

More than a few times over the years, yoga students have asked me: How do I bring compassion to myself? I’ve not heard this lately, however. Is it because the answer to the question seems too far out of reach?

Yet, bringing compassion to our own process may be more important than ever; it’s not about being overly optimistic but about realizing the effort is essential. When isn’t it relevant to protect the heart from shrinking into disappointment, frustration, anger, or worse?

There is a time to stand up, of course, to be firm against wrongdoing, and there’s also a time to be still, to seek advice from our own intuition or from respected others. When I observe how how our local deer slip from human dangers of the valley into mountain lion forest territory with a total and alert simplicity, I begin to understand the broad scope of what compassion requires of us.

Compassion comes naturally out of a commitment to something beyond our questioning concerns–by learning to listen and to be fully present. Compassion, in it’s essence, is the action of experiencing a neutral connection to all that exists within and without.

Compassion is not cynical or fearful. Compassion sometimes feels raw, because it also connects us to unknown results and consequences. The personal investigation of when to stretch, when to release, when to stop and when to embrace life beyond the constraints of ego is, surely, a worthwhile practice.

 

Gudrun Mouw (c)
Sept. 15, 2017

The Spiritual Journey

The Meditation Group

 

Eight of us sit, a small group in the heat.
We practice cooling breaths, sip ice water
before silence begins, before a rotating fan reaches
skin. That vast field of the mind stretches at warp speed
through oak after oak, and overheated birds begin
to sing, joining a chant to protect the planet
and bring the forest back to life.

 

Gudrun Mouw (c)

A Poem Journal Entry The Spiritual Journey