Illustration by Magda Cabrero
Monday, September 21, we will meet in person.
Go to calendar for our schedule
Address for OHMC meditation space:
3812 Northampton St. NW, Washington DC 20015
Please arrive a few minutes early so we can invite the bell on time. You may also arrive 15 minutes early to practice working meditation by helping us set up cushions.
Dear friends,
This week, we will meet Monday evening, September 21, from 7-8:30PM ET in person at our meditation space (3812 Northampton Street NW); Wednesday morning, September 23, from 7-8AM ET online; and Friday, September 25, 12-1PM ET online/in person (Hybrid).
On Monday, our evening meditation will be facilitated by Magda.
As we explore the Fourth Mindfulness Training, “Loving Speech & Deep Listening,” Magda would like to explore how we listen to the elements of the Earth.
One of my favorite practices is listening to the waters that surround me. As a child, I grew accustomed to the sound of the waves—the magnificent Caribbean Sea. I also cherish listening to rivers and marveling at the life they sustain. Their irregular, gurgling sounds calm me down.
Coming from an island, the breeze—mainly iodized by the ocean—is something I deeply enjoy. My bedroom in Puerto Rico is surrounded by corners and windows, and the breeze from the front balcony, always left open at my request, comes right through. I find this ventilation of iodized air deeply healing and soothing, like a lullaby. I find it difficult to live in enclosed spaces where I don’t feel the movement of air. Ideally, we could rely mostly on fans and small, local air conditioners only during periods of extreme heat.
Since my mother’s place and mine are condos, I resort to indoor water fountains and wind chimes, which I hang around the house in unlikely places, mostly near windows. As I listen to these sounds, I often focus on my breathing. When I am in nature, I often breathe with every step during walking meditation, synchronizing my breath with the somewhat irregular sounds around me.
Another sound I adore is the sound of birds beginning to fly at sunrise—especially the hundreds of parakeets in Puerto Rico that gather in magnolia trees or royal poincianas. I witness them every morning as I meditate from my mother’s balcony.
I also adore the sound birds make as they gather in the trees at sunset. I realize how difficult it would be for birds if there were no trees. Then I sit next to trees or walk near them and practice listening to their chemical, expressive quiet communication. I understand that my ears are not capable of hearing this communication, but I feel it all the same, in deep gratitude.
Another kind of quiet communication that deeply attracts me is the communication of pebbles and rocks I encounter through walking meditation. I feel this is more like a mineral kind of communication, but it is communication all the same. I often feel as if certain rocks—especially those uniquely shaped by Mother Earth—were calling my name, or the names of people I love. Here I collect not only for myself, but to share with others during rituals at my healing house, as gifts of love.
This joy comes through simple things that we cannot necessarily see or hear: the quiet presence of a tree, the loving expressions of rocks. I love it when some people simply utter what is essential. I love Indigenous people’s silence in nature, because they understand that there are many ways to communicate, and that human communication is not the most important.
I feel that this facilitation is an extension of my last facilitation, in which I brought a small water fountain to explore selective gardening through cultivating joy. Often, joy comes from the simplest things: the sounds made by ocean waves and rivers; the sounds of wind chimes caressed by the wind; the sounds of birds, who know how to listen to the rhythms of the day’s sunlight; and the chemical and mineral quiet communications of precious beings in our magical world.
Please feel free to bring something you love to listen to, if you are able. I will bring a few wind chimes, my tiny water fountain again, and some of my rocks that give me so much joy.
These simple gifts help me deepen my path of becoming a selective gardener who cultivates joy by listening to simple things.
I am in deep gratitude for nature’s simple gifts, which so enrich my life through pure simplicity.