Ready? Okay!

Today's the big day that we pick up our three pounds of bees and Queen from Alan, our beekeeping teacher. We'll spend the day making frames for our hive, participating in demos, and watching a video about how to catch a swarm. It'll be our first day of wearing our bee-veils for a purpose [a purpose other than prancing around the house in them in our underwear, naturally]. I am so excited about this!!

In preparation for today's events, I've been re-reading the materials we were given in our first class, along with the packing slips from the beekeeping supplies we purchased. Thought I'd share a few tidbits:

- from the veil (did I mention mine is a white plastic pith helmet with black veil, charmant!): The veil is protective from bee and other insect stings when properly used. It is not warranted to be sting proof or guaranteed to prevent access to the body by bees or other insects. Hmm.

- and final words from the packing slip of the bee smoker, which we will use when we open the hives (not because the smoke stuns them but because it makes them think Fire, so they gorge themselves on honey and therefore slow down): Use good judgement and common sense. Some would say good judgment means not messing with bees, but OK.

If nothing else, this is going to be really interesting! But I am expecting a fine adventure, with some delicious honey as the reward....

Ananda tandava

And here we are, in th isbeautiful place, playing just because we can, participating in this joyous ananda tandava -- this blissful dance of the universe -- just because we can.

Oh, how wonderful!

How Precious is Solitude

I am on yoga retreat in Mexico with my beloved teacher, Laura Christensen, meaning that I have the great pleasure of two classes a day with her, four hours on my mat in awe of her teaching and beauty. I am one of a group of 22 women, each almost without exception more amazing than the last - funny, intelligent, talented. I have laughed really hard at least a hundred times by now, several times to tears, and have spent luxurious periods by the infinity pool reading. The food is delicious and bountiful, the view and the villas just stunning. Most wonderful, I do feel like I have a whole new crop of friends and sisters, something which never ceases to amaze me about the yoga practice -- the unbelievable people it delivers into my arms.

And yet, with all this company, I find it hard to shake my need for solitude, my growing itch to be apart, to be alone in my thoughts, with my thoughts, to be diving through the woods with Jasper at my side. Crazy, isn't it?

I'm finding the biggest challenge of being here not the mustering-up of enough energy to get through four hours of practice a day. That's easy. It's more the challenge of being part of a group when I am so accustomed, I am reminded, to spending a lot of time alone. As I write this, in a perfectly idyllic setting, I realize that I have one eye on the screen of my laptop, another on the woman who sits at the far end of the sitting area willing her not to try to engage me. [And she does keep making sounds as she's looking through a coffee-table book, her unsubtle attempt to kindle conversation. But she's a whole 'nother story, the odd duck, the one off-note in a breezy harmonious melody.] Creating alone and quiet time requires intention and commitment that can be hard to maintain when there's a party going on.

The rest of the group is mostly down at the beach for meditation this morning, while I've stolen time to come read Mary Oliver, stare at the ocean, and meditate in my own way, by sifting through the contents of my own brain for something worthy of sharing here. It's an honor and a privilege to be here, as well as a balancing act all on its own -- how to be with others and still maintain a quiet interior, a lesson all its own.

Ting, ting, ting, goes the spoon in the coffee cup at the other end of the sitting area, but my thoughts are undisturbed. I hear it, but it doesn't upset the calm of my own form of meditation.

Vacation tomorrow: mixed feelings

Our garden has literally exploded in the last few weeks - everything looks just that particular Spring-beautiful, super-hydrated, unfurling. And the Pawlonia Empress Tree at the front of the yard is in full-bloom, utterly spectacular and at least 20 feet tall, which is amazing considering that when we planted it three years ago, it was literally a foot-long non-descript stick. The photo above is the delectably fragrant blooms on that tree, each one about 4 inches long.

The parts for the bee hive are sitting outside the garage waiting to be finished and sealed. And intriguing beekeeping supplies arrived in a big box today. Stay tuned for pictures of me in a ridiculous plastic pith helmet with veil and canvas gloves that go all the way up my arms. Joe unpacked the smoker and immediately torched some pine needles in it just to see what would happen. Guess what: it made smoke. Fancy that!

We planted sweet and shell peas last weekend, and amaranth and quinoa, all from seed. The lilac is just starting to bloom, and the asparagus is raging.

As much as I really and truly need this yoga camp week in Mexico and will delight and rejoice in every moment of it, it's also true that I am reluctant to go away for a week from this precious, brief part of the season.

But it'll still be here. And still be amazing when I get back. And then I'll be a whole week closer to getting our 3 pounds of bees and Queen and setting up our new honey-making operation. How much promise the spring holds!!

Sunday Spring ruminations

I'm supposed to be working right now. That's the whole reason I just took off my gloves and muddy boots, put away my trowel and handed the seed packets off to Joe. Would much rather be outside than in today, in this breezy spring glory, but duty calls.

But before duty, just a small Sunday rumination or two, thanks to class with Peggy today. As we were heading into savasana, she said, "No guilt. No clinging. No desire." And I realized something.

That all this anxiety that penetrates my dreams or straight-up keeps me awake at night, is nothing more than clinging. And that clinging comes from fear. This endless knitting and re-working of scenarios is such a noisy not-letting-go.

And interestingly the complete opposite of the dedication I gave my practice today: "peaceful heart. peaceful home."

To achieve that peaceful heart, peaceful home, no clinging. Duh.